I’ve done my banking at a credit union since the late 1980s. I used to belong to Modo, a cooperative carsharing enterprise. I’ve found some of the best prices on organic produce at a cooperative grocery store. Many friends live in cooperative housing, an option I might pursue as I get older.

I believe in the power of cooperative ventures. So, when I saw the title of Alec Bruce’s (class of 2022) book, The Cooperators: The People Behind the Rebirth of a Nova Scotia Movement 1949–2024, it tweaked my interest.
Corporate histories are generally commissioned by the companies whose histories they recount and are meant to be read by people who have an interest in that company. Like any other corporate history, Bruce’s book was commissioned (by the Cooperative Council of Nova Scotia). But a book about a cooperative movement is inherently different because cooperatives are inherently different.
The history of any cooperative venture is more than the story of an individual’s rise from rags to riches because it’s the history of a philosophy made manifest. Cooperatives came into being out of a belief that when people who are underserved by conventional institutions come together with purpose, their joint venture can not only serve them but others like them—people who are not wealthy and generally have no desire to be, people who just want fair shake in a world that often ignores them.
When I look briefly at other cooperative histories, I see similar things: many of them started in the early 1900s, were driven by the efforts of a passionate few, may have gone through a period of decline, but have come back to life in the last few decades and are defying the belief that business can only be successful if it lacks heart and human interest.
As Father Moses Michael Coady, the father of Nova Scotia’s cooperative movement, said,
“It has been said that credit supports the borrower the way a rope supports the hanged. Many an unfortunate debtor has found this to be true. One of the chief arguments that proponents of private business advance against the co-operative system is that they give credit while the co-operative does not. They feel that after they have ‘carried’ so many people for such a long time, it is ungrateful of the people to seek to establish their own business.”
Poppycock, he said. It’s not ungrateful to want to house, feed, and clothe your family on your own terms. As beauty is in the eye of the beholder, credit is in the eye of the lender. If the lender is of sound moral character, invested both in his own and his community’s welfare, there’s nothing wrong with it. A credit union, he said, is perfectly designed to help people get out of the messes private businesses had put them in.
This has been my experience of all types of cooperatives: credit unions (the one I use in Vancouver and the one my brother uses in Toronto), cooperative associations that deliver weekly bins of organic produce at reasonable prices, cooperative housing for people who need housing security but can’t buy a house.
The place for cooperatives in our society these days, where costs seem to be perpetually spiralling out of control, is almost limitless. I’ve patronized many cooperatively run worker -owned businesses, which give workers a real sense of investment in where they make their living. I’ve read about the power of cooperative structures lifting people in the majority world (a term I prefer to more value-laden terms like “third world” and “developing world) out of what seemed like hopeless poverty.
To me, this has always seemed like a brilliant idea, and Alec Bruce has done an admirable job of sharing the history of Nova Scotia’s cooperative movement in a way that can benefit anyone with an interest in exploring the coop philosophy—and maybe starting a coop of their own.























