Transcending philanthropy

"Wow.  I can't believe you of all people fell for something like this."

I made a personal gift last week.  A small one, and one that went to some individuals - not tax-deductible, no nonprofit involved.  And I let my friends know about it, because that's how these things work...a plea for help goes out and is distributed globally with a few keystrokes thanks to modern technology.  If many people all give a little, enough money is raised to meet whatever need has been expressed.  That's the idea of crowdsourcing, and sometimes it's done through intermediaries, but increasingly, it's easier to just pool money through a service like Paypal or Kickstarter or YouCaring and see that cash go directly to the human beings who need it.

I was a little bit shocked that a friend reacted so negatively to my participating in this grey area of philanthropy.  Or maybe she was referring to my decision to publicly share that participation and pass along the plea.

Philanthropy is a business, and most of what I talk about is we humans, who need to balance our emotions and practical thinking, can do that in our work as well.  There's a lot of hard work that goes into fundraising, and a lot of hard work on the other end on the part of the philanthropist - doing due diligence, thinking about expected outcomes from their gift (which could be any number of things - not thinking too narrowly is one of my favorite soapbox ranting topics), evaluating the actual outcome.

It's interesting - things have changed, but this very American way of doing things owes a lot to Jewish theologic roots.  The concept of tzedakah, often loosely translated as charity (the literal translation is something we'll get to in a moment), is something written about by the sages and practiced as a key obligation for a couple dozen centuries.

The text that spawns this religious practice is a biblical passage that lays out the obligation to leave adequate gleanings when harvesting crops, allowing the poor to take what they need from your "leftovers."  Many volumes have been written, throughout the ages, by greater minds and greater scholars than I, on how to translate that very specific commandment into ever evolving modern times (it didn't take long, historically, for a good portion of the population to leave farming...but there were still plenty of poor folks, starving.)  I look forward to dedicating more posts to some of those writings (from various perspectives in all three of the Abrahamic traditions), but for now, I'm going to wing it in my own words.

Tzedakah literally means "justice," from the root tzedek, which means "righteousness" - there is a sense of moral obligation that has permeated American giving culture.  Sometimes it's forced, like community service requirements for high schools, and sometimes it's subconsciously judgmental - think of celebrity billionaires...does their visible record of generosity (or lack thereof) affect the way you view them?  We equate charitable giving with being a righteous person.

But in my opinion, American culture is as steeped in the narrative of capitalism as it is in Judeo-Christian morality.  That combination is what leads to the current state of philanthropy here in the US.  We measure the annual volume of the philanthropic sector ($316.23 billion in 2012), we talk about accountability and social return on investment and due diligence.  

For much of the world, though, and huge pockets of the American population, charitable giving looks very different.  People give what they can, directly or through a trusted intermediary, often a church, to those who are less fortunate than them.  There's less scrutiny of the recipient when we give this way, less demand that every dollar be accounted for and "earned."  Emotionally, this is exactly what is called for in using the word "justice" - when you have met your basic needs, you must help others meet theirs.   

We're getting a very visceral reward for these kind of gifts.  You see it in the outpouring of gifts to natural disasters (and man-made disasters), and to some extent you see it in the success of the school groups who set up "shake a can" tables outside of supermarkets (although that's got a healthy dose of community pressure/guilt too, it's trading on this underlying desire - to be a good person by fulfilling our obligation to give away a portion of our good fortune.)

Bottom-line is: I didn't fall for anything.

There's an important role to be played by this kind of micro-giving, and I am academically curious as to whether it will wind up being a disruptor to the status quo of American philanthropy.  That may be why some folks are worried (or manifestly disdainful).  These are smaller gifts, they're made on the fly, they're made in response to strong emotion, and the "return" that the donor sees is an immediate personal feeling that they've done their part (rarely is anyone conscious of what goes into that - the legacy of "justice" committed, the way that ties into a just world belief system, etc.).  Often, these kinds of gifts operate outside of the IRS reward system, too, being too small to warrant formal receipting or never passing through a tax-exempt organization at all.

Here's "my" story: a friend has a nephew who is facing a very grim cancer prognosis, and may be near the end of treatment.  He'd like to see the ocean, and his parents would love to take the whole family to the beach so that there will be some happy memories for everyone...but finding the spare cash to take a family of five on even a modest vacation is nearly impossible after a long medical fight.

I gave.  I gave because I'm grateful that I could.  And while I hope a beach trip happens, I'm not expecting anything in return for my gift.  It was a direct, small gift to individuals in need, and I trust them to figure out how to use it best.

I've been thinking since then that in the philanthropic profession, we could stand to appreciate this kind of emotional giving a little better, and perhaps even honor it in a way that highlights the role such charity/justice (forgive me - let's just use the hebrew word tzedakah) has played historically and currently.  That's a practical thing for professionals to consider; as Jung said, "Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate"  - and this biblically derived image of the charitable ideal is often unconsciously at the heart of what many donors are trying to accomplish, even in formal settings and with gifts of tremendous magnitude.  But it's also a wakeup call to folks like me who spend a lot of time trying to rationalize and maximize efficiency in our donations.

It's a good thing to occasionally stop thinking and just give a few bucks to someone in need.

Some rules apply.  Due diligence is the biggest one: If you're giving a large enough gift that it's a significant sacrifice on your part, or if you'd be truly hurt (and not just annoyed on principle) if your money was used for something other than what you think it's going towards, don't give blindly.  Do whatever you need to do to feel confident that you know what you're giving money to do.  The key here is to feel confident that you're not going to regret the gift, whatever happens, so the metrics are entirely yours - no best practices or standards need be factored in.

The sniff test is the other metric I'd use.  There are SO many giving platforms out there now, just be a little careful about what you're using.  If you get the heebie-jeebies when you're looking at an online donation page, don't make the gift until you're sure it's legitimate - and I'm not talking about the donor here, I'm talking about the company that runs the website that's taking your credit card information!

Most of us can afford to be a little less cerebral about some of our donations.  Consider making more small gifts outside of the formal philanthropy machine.  It doesn't need to replace your normal routines of giving, but there's no shame in it.  None.