Greetings, gentle reader!
Spring is springing all around us here in Maryland, and the lilacs and azaleas and rhododendron are a feast of color out my office window. It never ceases to amaze me how the earth comes to life again each year, no matter how long or hard the winter; it never gives up its optimism.
However, waxing philosophical about the changing of the seasons is not my primary purpose for entering your inbox today; I write instead with the aim of discussing the much-lauded (and recently, much-rebuked) Giving Pledge.
A great deal has been made recently of the Giving Pledge turning 25 years old—and even more has been made of the fact that some of the signers have either changed their minds (according to Peter Thiel) or simply not yet lived up to the promise to give half of their wealth to charity.
Here’s my take, that you have all been (probably, secretly) clamoring for: Don’t commit to doing things publicly that ought to be done privately.
It’s rather a modern moment of letting Ye Olde Right Hande know too much about what Ye Olde Left Hande is doing (cf. my colleague's piece in Philanthropy Daily). I can see why the idea is exciting, of course—why it seems like it would be a GOOD thing to make a public commitment, build momentum, and get other wealthy people excited about giving. But as thousands of years of human history have shown us, people are, ultimately, only people—wonderful, generous, flawed, complex, fickle. In a real “dog bites man” revelation, we learn that wealthy people are . . . wonderful, generous, flawed, complex, and fickle.
David Bahnsen’s take also resonated with me (it’s ten minutes, give it a listen). The businesses that some of the signers have built and led (or lead) should not be discounted. These businesses are a major contribution to society. The narrative should definitely not be “terrible evil billionaires do nothing for fellow man”; the conversation can really only start once we’ve agreed on “already having done much to boost the American economy and provide livelihoods for thousands of people, signers of the Giving Pledge. . . .”
On a different note, and in light of my personal state of flawed-fickleness with regard to writing this newsletter in a timely fashion, I’ve decided to invite a few reliable and steadfast colleagues to join with me in this endeavor: the illustrious Liz Palla, executive partner and donor advisor at AmPhil, and Maria D’Anselmi, the unsung hero of AmPhil’s Donor Advisory. Henceforth, they will also be sliding into your inbox under the auspices of Giving Thought, bringing you juicy tidbits from the realm of giving.
Welcome, Liz and Maria!
Finally, to compensate for the brevity of today’s missive, here’s a quote from Seneca (you may recall I was gifted a copy of De Beneficiis the Christmas before last; I have not been idle since):
The things we hold in our hands and see with our eyes, the things our desire fastens on, are frail; Both fortune and human wrongs can take them away. But a gift or good deed endures, even after the object, the vehicle through which it was given, has perished. It's a virtuous act. No power can render it meaningless.
Comforting, isn’t it? So much of the conversation in philanthropy today is about how to have the greatest possible impact on a specific problem in the world, and we often lose sight of the benefit of simply cultivating virtue in ourselves through our giving. No power can render a virtuous act meaningless.
Take comfort in this, my friends, the next time someone tries to brow-beat you about the causes you give to, or you realize too late that you could have donated the appreciated stock instead (and thus given more to charity and less to Uncle Sam).
There is virtue simply in the giving.
'Til next time,
Celia
—
Cecilia Diem
Director
AmPhil
