A reminder to readers: WisePhilanthropy welcomes guest posts - with the following conditions:
1. Your guest post should be about the "giving" side of philanthropy or about philanthropy trends in general. This site is not about the fundraising side of the sector.
2. It may not be an advertisement in the guise of an "op-ed" piece. [If someone does want to advertise on this site, please contact me.]
3. It need not be original and may be cross posted on your own blog site as long as the other site identifies that it is cross posted on WisePhilanthropy.
4. No anonymous postings.
5. As the owner of the site, I retain the rights to determine what is posted.
These aren't particularly onerous limitations so please feel free to let me know if you would like to be a guest.
15 January 2012
23 December 2011
I almost was a hypocrite yesterday: the modest nobility of taxes
The real point of this posting is the last paragraph, but first:
Let me start out by saying that Mirele and I pay our taxes. And as folks with lots of legitimate deductions, we have had occasion to prove that to the IRS – and they too agree that we pay our taxes. We are far from being 1%ers, but even we benefit from the very large loopholes afforded to the self-employed, mortgage payers, and charity donors. My guess is that an aggressive CPA could show us even more, but we use those that the tax prep software identifies, and that is probably enough.
In fact it is an honor to pay taxes. Not fun, but it is how we fulfill our noble obligation to support a society with lots of needy, lots of needs, and lots of insufficiently met obligations. I confess that there is always a sense of accomplishment or relief when we don’t have to write a check for underpayment every April, but my belief is that most of us pay too little toward our own well-being. Given the choice of privatizing social security or more taxes, I would pay more taxes; given the choice of additional deterioration in our educational system or more taxes, I would pay more taxes; given the choice between a bankrupt FEMA [as we sadly saw] or more taxes, I would pay more taxes; given the choice between more homeless and hungry or more taxes, I would pay more taxes.
Now obviously no one wants waste but no one should want the inequities that our recent tax policies have wrought. We should want and pay for regulation which keeps unrestrained greed and willful manipulation of the financial markets in check. [Is there any evidence whatever that the banks will self regulate to protect our interests?] We should want and pay for polices which protect our physical world. [Do you really believe that the oil companies will self regulate to protect us from the continuing deterioration of the environment?]
Most of you who read this are well aware that our life and livelihood is connected to the public benefit and philanthropy sector. Our livelihood does not come from government contracts. But while I believe in the tremendous value of the philanthropy sphere in fostering the public weal and cultivating the character of a society, I never lose sight of the limits of that world as well. Philanthropy cannot replace government support in the big-ticket items or in making basic human needs accessible and equitable. Philanthropy is the realm of the voluntary; taxes should be the realm of the obligatory.
Which brings me to the two reasons why I write this today. Sometime later today, the president will probably sign a bill extending the reduction in payroll taxes and for unemployment benefits. It will have been the right thing to do, but in many ways for the wrong reasons. Letting that lapse would have led to a regressive tax – one which would have fallen more heavily on those with the least disposable income than those with more money. But the problem with the political discussion is that it underscored the prevalent anti-tax sentiment in this country. To compete to show who can reduce taxes the most is the most perverse public policy discourse one can imagine. Even if one disregards the unbalanced nature of the tax cuts which have led to the unconscionable divide between the super wealthy and the rest, itself not easy to do, it still deflects the real discussion we should be having about what our society should look like and who should pay for it.
And now to the real point of this piece: yesterday, I purchased a holiday gift at one of the many holiday markets which spring up around New York. It was not an expensive purchase, but not the cheapest either. When it came time to pay, the merchant gave me the option of paying for the item in cash or by credit card. Cash was cheaper because the purchase wouldn’t be recorded and thus taxable. This offer is quite the norm in places like this. It happens so often that it is easy to not even think about it. Why not save a few dollars? And over the years, I have indeed been among those who saved those dollars. For a moment I again was going to do the same. But suddenly I recalled everything that I advocated above. I realized that that simple saving of a very few dollars would make me a hypocrite. I changed my mind and paid by credit card. Those few dollars won’t do much for our state’s overburdened budget shortfall, but they do count. And if all of us paid what we should and what we owe, it would make a difference.
Just imagine how much less pressure there would have been on our city, state, and federal budgets if all of us, all of us, didn’t view taxes as something to be avoided whenever possible but that single most important thing that enables good citizenship.
Let me start out by saying that Mirele and I pay our taxes. And as folks with lots of legitimate deductions, we have had occasion to prove that to the IRS – and they too agree that we pay our taxes. We are far from being 1%ers, but even we benefit from the very large loopholes afforded to the self-employed, mortgage payers, and charity donors. My guess is that an aggressive CPA could show us even more, but we use those that the tax prep software identifies, and that is probably enough.
In fact it is an honor to pay taxes. Not fun, but it is how we fulfill our noble obligation to support a society with lots of needy, lots of needs, and lots of insufficiently met obligations. I confess that there is always a sense of accomplishment or relief when we don’t have to write a check for underpayment every April, but my belief is that most of us pay too little toward our own well-being. Given the choice of privatizing social security or more taxes, I would pay more taxes; given the choice of additional deterioration in our educational system or more taxes, I would pay more taxes; given the choice between a bankrupt FEMA [as we sadly saw] or more taxes, I would pay more taxes; given the choice between more homeless and hungry or more taxes, I would pay more taxes.
Now obviously no one wants waste but no one should want the inequities that our recent tax policies have wrought. We should want and pay for regulation which keeps unrestrained greed and willful manipulation of the financial markets in check. [Is there any evidence whatever that the banks will self regulate to protect our interests?] We should want and pay for polices which protect our physical world. [Do you really believe that the oil companies will self regulate to protect us from the continuing deterioration of the environment?]
Most of you who read this are well aware that our life and livelihood is connected to the public benefit and philanthropy sector. Our livelihood does not come from government contracts. But while I believe in the tremendous value of the philanthropy sphere in fostering the public weal and cultivating the character of a society, I never lose sight of the limits of that world as well. Philanthropy cannot replace government support in the big-ticket items or in making basic human needs accessible and equitable. Philanthropy is the realm of the voluntary; taxes should be the realm of the obligatory.
Which brings me to the two reasons why I write this today. Sometime later today, the president will probably sign a bill extending the reduction in payroll taxes and for unemployment benefits. It will have been the right thing to do, but in many ways for the wrong reasons. Letting that lapse would have led to a regressive tax – one which would have fallen more heavily on those with the least disposable income than those with more money. But the problem with the political discussion is that it underscored the prevalent anti-tax sentiment in this country. To compete to show who can reduce taxes the most is the most perverse public policy discourse one can imagine. Even if one disregards the unbalanced nature of the tax cuts which have led to the unconscionable divide between the super wealthy and the rest, itself not easy to do, it still deflects the real discussion we should be having about what our society should look like and who should pay for it.
And now to the real point of this piece: yesterday, I purchased a holiday gift at one of the many holiday markets which spring up around New York. It was not an expensive purchase, but not the cheapest either. When it came time to pay, the merchant gave me the option of paying for the item in cash or by credit card. Cash was cheaper because the purchase wouldn’t be recorded and thus taxable. This offer is quite the norm in places like this. It happens so often that it is easy to not even think about it. Why not save a few dollars? And over the years, I have indeed been among those who saved those dollars. For a moment I again was going to do the same. But suddenly I recalled everything that I advocated above. I realized that that simple saving of a very few dollars would make me a hypocrite. I changed my mind and paid by credit card. Those few dollars won’t do much for our state’s overburdened budget shortfall, but they do count. And if all of us paid what we should and what we owe, it would make a difference.
Just imagine how much less pressure there would have been on our city, state, and federal budgets if all of us, all of us, didn’t view taxes as something to be avoided whenever possible but that single most important thing that enables good citizenship.
20 December 2011
Us, Them, – Or all of us?
[This posting is quite different tn topic and tone from most. It was written in response to a request from the publisher of eJewishPhilanthropy to contribute to an online conversation about "what is Jewish Philanthropy". The subject is quite specific but is applicable to anyone who may be balancing competing claims of ethnic or religious identity and universal needs.]
..................
I recently had an extended “twitter” exchange on the topic of where Jews should give their charitable dollars. Of course, 140 characters, no matter how abbreviated the words or clever the post is no replacement for a real in-depth discussion, but it did uncover a disagreement about “first claims” on our philanthropic dollars. And implicitly it addressed the question “what is Jewish philanthropy?”
My partner in the conversation was someone I have known for a long time – someone whom I respect deeply, whom I like personally, and whose continuing commitment to his work and the Jewish community knows no bounds. In the days when I worked in the Jewish community, he was a cherished and responsible colleague albeit in a different organization. So this exchange was characterized by mutual respect and courtesy – attributes one sadly doesn’t always see these days.
What was at stake: my counterpart, [henceforth “L”], argued that support for universal or secular causes is at the expense of support for Jewish ones. Universalism, in his view, is implicitly the enemy of the particular, or more specifically, if one supports secular causes, one would probably forsake Jewish ones. Looking at trends in charitable giving, he notes, accurately, that many Jews have been giving greater percentages of their philanthropic dollars to non-specifically Jewish causes than would have been the case a generation or two ago. As L sees it, such priorities reflect a reduction, or worse, a rejection of responsibility to sustain Jewish institutions, leaving them vulnerable. And ultimately, then, leaving the Jewish community vulnerable.
L’s arguments are not new and not without some logic. However, my view is that they are ideologically and pragmatically incorrect:
Ideological - A
As some readers know, I have in the past been a professor of theology and more recently served leadership roles in the international interreligious realm. I have come to understand that one criterion for authenticity in a religion, any religion, is the dialectic tension between the universal and the particular. Any tradition which is only focused on itself is nothing more than a cult; any which focuses exclusively on the universal is really a philosophy. Different traditions within every religion have differing emphases, but the affirmation of both is integral and essential. In the Jewish Tradition, halachah demands, requires, that one supports needs beyond the Jewish community, although to be sure there is a hierarchy of how one decides how much. Thus, if one is committed to supporting one’s own religious tradition it is incumbent, mandatory, to support at least some causes which benefit the world beyond those boundaries.
Ideological - B
Many who previously might have felt inclined to support the interests of “their own” did so on the basis that, “if we don’t, no one will”. That argument still applies, but in a very much more limited way than in the past. In times of social security, hospitals which serve everyone, universities which offer majors in Jewish studies, or provide facilities for traditionally observant students, or of cultural institutions whose boards are no longer “restricted” or careers open to all, there are fewer needs which are only served by Jewish institutions. To be sure, in the United States, synagogues, youth groups, day schools, etc. are exclusively supported by funds raised by the Jewish community. But any argument that only Jews support Jews is no longer true. These are the benefits of an open society, and thus there is value in supporting secular universities, and cultural institutions, and to advocate for more responsive public policies for health care and hunger and poverty, Philanthropic support of secular organizations is not only not a rejection of Jewish interests but are an affirmation of the healthy benefits of an open society.
Pragmatic – A
There are some causes, such as the environment, which, if not addressed universally make no sense. The destruction of the Ozone layer, the decimation of the forests, the impending world food shortages do not honor belief systems or national borders. In these matters, the only way to address them is to recognize that universal interest, in the long run, is self-interest. For very practical reasons, it may make sense to encourage Jewish support through Jewish organizational efforts, but not because there are particularist interests which supersede universal ones. Moreover, these efforts are meaningless if they are not aligned with other similarly committed advocates outside our own community.
Pragmatic – B
L did not say, but others have, that too much “Jewish money is going to non-Jewish causes.” However, money made by Jews is not Jewish money; the community and its institutions have no inherent claim on those earnings simply because the earner happens to be Jewish. And in fact, many diaspora Jews feel fully secure in their Jewishness without the need to affiliate with Jewish institutions. Many observe holidays, Shabbat, and kashrut, without either the need or the sense of obligation to support institutions. Much has been written about this trend. Individuals may provide substantial financial support, albeit not necessarily “philanthropic” support, to live a Jewish life without supporting Jewish institutions. En passant, a higher percentage of philanthropic dollars may go to secular causes even if one’s personal Jewish commitment is not necessarily reduced.
In the end, Jewish philanthropy in this era is to be defined by the intention of the funder more than by the nature of the recipient. After all, philanthropy is not the determination of values, but a reflection of them. Only by cultivating Jewish identity will support for Jewish life flourish – often hand in hand with support for universal ones as well. But it is likely, in this century of radical realignment, that even when that support flourishes, it often bypasses the institutions which defined 20th Century Jewish life. And for many, that is the most unsettling challenge of all.
..................
I recently had an extended “twitter” exchange on the topic of where Jews should give their charitable dollars. Of course, 140 characters, no matter how abbreviated the words or clever the post is no replacement for a real in-depth discussion, but it did uncover a disagreement about “first claims” on our philanthropic dollars. And implicitly it addressed the question “what is Jewish philanthropy?”
My partner in the conversation was someone I have known for a long time – someone whom I respect deeply, whom I like personally, and whose continuing commitment to his work and the Jewish community knows no bounds. In the days when I worked in the Jewish community, he was a cherished and responsible colleague albeit in a different organization. So this exchange was characterized by mutual respect and courtesy – attributes one sadly doesn’t always see these days.
What was at stake: my counterpart, [henceforth “L”], argued that support for universal or secular causes is at the expense of support for Jewish ones. Universalism, in his view, is implicitly the enemy of the particular, or more specifically, if one supports secular causes, one would probably forsake Jewish ones. Looking at trends in charitable giving, he notes, accurately, that many Jews have been giving greater percentages of their philanthropic dollars to non-specifically Jewish causes than would have been the case a generation or two ago. As L sees it, such priorities reflect a reduction, or worse, a rejection of responsibility to sustain Jewish institutions, leaving them vulnerable. And ultimately, then, leaving the Jewish community vulnerable.
L’s arguments are not new and not without some logic. However, my view is that they are ideologically and pragmatically incorrect:
Ideological - A
As some readers know, I have in the past been a professor of theology and more recently served leadership roles in the international interreligious realm. I have come to understand that one criterion for authenticity in a religion, any religion, is the dialectic tension between the universal and the particular. Any tradition which is only focused on itself is nothing more than a cult; any which focuses exclusively on the universal is really a philosophy. Different traditions within every religion have differing emphases, but the affirmation of both is integral and essential. In the Jewish Tradition, halachah demands, requires, that one supports needs beyond the Jewish community, although to be sure there is a hierarchy of how one decides how much. Thus, if one is committed to supporting one’s own religious tradition it is incumbent, mandatory, to support at least some causes which benefit the world beyond those boundaries.
Ideological - B
Many who previously might have felt inclined to support the interests of “their own” did so on the basis that, “if we don’t, no one will”. That argument still applies, but in a very much more limited way than in the past. In times of social security, hospitals which serve everyone, universities which offer majors in Jewish studies, or provide facilities for traditionally observant students, or of cultural institutions whose boards are no longer “restricted” or careers open to all, there are fewer needs which are only served by Jewish institutions. To be sure, in the United States, synagogues, youth groups, day schools, etc. are exclusively supported by funds raised by the Jewish community. But any argument that only Jews support Jews is no longer true. These are the benefits of an open society, and thus there is value in supporting secular universities, and cultural institutions, and to advocate for more responsive public policies for health care and hunger and poverty, Philanthropic support of secular organizations is not only not a rejection of Jewish interests but are an affirmation of the healthy benefits of an open society.
Pragmatic – A
There are some causes, such as the environment, which, if not addressed universally make no sense. The destruction of the Ozone layer, the decimation of the forests, the impending world food shortages do not honor belief systems or national borders. In these matters, the only way to address them is to recognize that universal interest, in the long run, is self-interest. For very practical reasons, it may make sense to encourage Jewish support through Jewish organizational efforts, but not because there are particularist interests which supersede universal ones. Moreover, these efforts are meaningless if they are not aligned with other similarly committed advocates outside our own community.
Pragmatic – B
L did not say, but others have, that too much “Jewish money is going to non-Jewish causes.” However, money made by Jews is not Jewish money; the community and its institutions have no inherent claim on those earnings simply because the earner happens to be Jewish. And in fact, many diaspora Jews feel fully secure in their Jewishness without the need to affiliate with Jewish institutions. Many observe holidays, Shabbat, and kashrut, without either the need or the sense of obligation to support institutions. Much has been written about this trend. Individuals may provide substantial financial support, albeit not necessarily “philanthropic” support, to live a Jewish life without supporting Jewish institutions. En passant, a higher percentage of philanthropic dollars may go to secular causes even if one’s personal Jewish commitment is not necessarily reduced.
In the end, Jewish philanthropy in this era is to be defined by the intention of the funder more than by the nature of the recipient. After all, philanthropy is not the determination of values, but a reflection of them. Only by cultivating Jewish identity will support for Jewish life flourish – often hand in hand with support for universal ones as well. But it is likely, in this century of radical realignment, that even when that support flourishes, it often bypasses the institutions which defined 20th Century Jewish life. And for many, that is the most unsettling challenge of all.
14 December 2011
Becoming a bold and impactful giver – some additional seasonal thoughts
Last evening I had the pleasure of attending the holiday reception of supporters and friends of Bolder Giving, a wonderful initiative encouraging those who may not be 1%ers to think creatively, and to give boldly, to make a difference. The effort has caught the imagination of many, highlighted the exemplary work of a few, and has stimulated healthy discussions quite broadly.
At the event, my colleague Jason Franklin, currently Executive Director of Bolder Giving, challenged us all to articulate what we have each done to model this approach. In the small group with whom I was sitting, some fine and touching examples were shared, and from the buzz elsewhere in the room, I am confident that our group was not the exception.
In the process, I was reminded of two very important, and too often overlooked, ways in which everyone can be a bold philanthropist. And while these thoughts are not new – to me or to many other philanthropy commentators - they can never be repeated often enough, especially at this time of year:
1. Giving less does not mean giving small. When my book was published a few years ago, one of the chapters which received a lot of positive comment among readers and reviewers was called: “How to be a philanthropist on $5/week.” Many felt that this liberated those with, shall me say, shallower pockets from feeling inadequate with all the visibility given to headline level givers and gifts. They realized that, with strategy, their targeted giving may make all the difference in a classroom or very early stage start-up or teen program or many other worthy and interesting causes.
Since I first published that article, several years before the book was published, it was not yet easy to make small but targeted gifts on-line, to do research and to fund micro-projects in schools in the USA or in villages in Africa. Today, anyone with a commitment can make the same kinds of meaningful decisions as the most prominent philanthropist and foundation – albeit at a different scale. No one need be reluctant to be a funder because of fear that his or her dollars won’t make a difference. They can and do.
2. Volunteering time and leadership. There is no organization in the public benefit sector which cannot benefit from the three “w’s” - work, wisdom, and wealth. Very few have all three, some have two, but most of us have the ability to offer at least one of these to organizations, large or small, Volunteering for projects, volunteering professional skills, volunteering for leadership, volunteering to offer a helping hand – all add up to increasing the capacity of so many groups to fulfill their mission in ways that they cannot afford to “purchase.” Now, to be sure, volunteering of time is not a substitute for properly compensated staff, nor should it be viewed as a justification to reduce staff and other resources. But since time is a precious and discretionary resources, our contribution of time is at least as much a reflection of our values, commitments, and character as our contribution of money.
Sadly, we continue to live through a time of great travail for those in need, and of fear for many more at risk of falling into that category. Funding for most human service and cultural interest organizations have been radically curtailed and continues to be far below the level necessary to maintain the quality and quantity necessary to support their noble and worthy efforts. At this time of year, in particular, please remember that it is our individual giving and voluntarism, bold, focused, and thoughtful, which can make a difference – can indeed be THE difference.
At the event, my colleague Jason Franklin, currently Executive Director of Bolder Giving, challenged us all to articulate what we have each done to model this approach. In the small group with whom I was sitting, some fine and touching examples were shared, and from the buzz elsewhere in the room, I am confident that our group was not the exception.
In the process, I was reminded of two very important, and too often overlooked, ways in which everyone can be a bold philanthropist. And while these thoughts are not new – to me or to many other philanthropy commentators - they can never be repeated often enough, especially at this time of year:
1. Giving less does not mean giving small. When my book was published a few years ago, one of the chapters which received a lot of positive comment among readers and reviewers was called: “How to be a philanthropist on $5/week.” Many felt that this liberated those with, shall me say, shallower pockets from feeling inadequate with all the visibility given to headline level givers and gifts. They realized that, with strategy, their targeted giving may make all the difference in a classroom or very early stage start-up or teen program or many other worthy and interesting causes.
Since I first published that article, several years before the book was published, it was not yet easy to make small but targeted gifts on-line, to do research and to fund micro-projects in schools in the USA or in villages in Africa. Today, anyone with a commitment can make the same kinds of meaningful decisions as the most prominent philanthropist and foundation – albeit at a different scale. No one need be reluctant to be a funder because of fear that his or her dollars won’t make a difference. They can and do.
2. Volunteering time and leadership. There is no organization in the public benefit sector which cannot benefit from the three “w’s” - work, wisdom, and wealth. Very few have all three, some have two, but most of us have the ability to offer at least one of these to organizations, large or small, Volunteering for projects, volunteering professional skills, volunteering for leadership, volunteering to offer a helping hand – all add up to increasing the capacity of so many groups to fulfill their mission in ways that they cannot afford to “purchase.” Now, to be sure, volunteering of time is not a substitute for properly compensated staff, nor should it be viewed as a justification to reduce staff and other resources. But since time is a precious and discretionary resources, our contribution of time is at least as much a reflection of our values, commitments, and character as our contribution of money.
Sadly, we continue to live through a time of great travail for those in need, and of fear for many more at risk of falling into that category. Funding for most human service and cultural interest organizations have been radically curtailed and continues to be far below the level necessary to maintain the quality and quantity necessary to support their noble and worthy efforts. At this time of year, in particular, please remember that it is our individual giving and voluntarism, bold, focused, and thoughtful, which can make a difference – can indeed be THE difference.
30 November 2011
Words and Style Matter - Some thoughts for the season
At a recent philanthropy conference, I had a chat with two folks charged with actualizing new family foundations which had very similar charges. In both cases, the founder had a left a message that conservation causes should be supported, but environmental ones should not.
What made life difficult for these two heirs was not merely the standard challenge of deciding which of the many legitimate entities should be funded by their family foundations, but how to honor the clear intent of the funder who gave inherently conflicting messages.
They understood the implicit politics. The founders were Conservative in their political leanings and for them “environmentalism” represented Liberal thinking. But try as they might, it was hard to develop a grantmaking strategy which embraced conservation without accepting elements of environmentalism. After all, underneath all of the sloganeering was a shared belief in the fragility of the physical world as we know it and the need for a gentle stewardship of that world. Priorities for how to redress our shameful destruction of the world, the ozone layer, and the hope for healthy futures can be argued, but only those willfully or politically blind to the evidence will argue that we need not act quickly and forcefully.
Should they be handcuffed by the founders’ words or implement the true underlying imperative? Words matter, these funders realized, but not as much as the issue.
Another recent anecdote: a “1%”er whose liberal political leanings are quite well known called to congratulate us on our articulated support for “Occupy Wall Street.” She called a few minutes later to say that her assistant was very turned off by these very same folks. She complained about their unkemptness, sloppiness, and general demeanor. While my first instinct was to dismiss this trivial complaint, I realized that it cannot be ignored even if trivial. The comments brought to mind two other incidents: one going back over 44 years, the other only about 14. We will return to OWS below.
It was 1967. The counter cultural changes were still new; the anti-war movement was just gathering momentum. I was riding on a crowded public bus on Broadway in Manhattan and standing next to an occupied two-seater. An older gentleman was sitting next to a younger man, the latter with not-yet-customarily-seen long hair. The two were not talking and there was no indication that they had ever met. When the older man got to his stop, he stood up and without provocation punched the younger man in the face and then got off the bus. Evidently the young man’s “style” so offended him that he could not abide even sitting next to such a revolutionary. [Several people held the older person for the police but the younger man decided not to pursue the matter.] Style mattered. Deeply. And for these two, not very trivially.
A more benign example. A relatively young person who viewed himself as a visionary and innovator came to see me in my foundation office which was in one of the most famous luxury buildings in midtown Manhattan. He bemoaned the fact that try as he might, he couldn’t persuade any of the big foundations and mega wealthy to support his new idea. This fellow had an impressive early career, but he had just moved from London and had no USA track record. Why should they fund his idea or him? Moreover, he looked sloppy – and right or wrong, especially so in the context of the offices where we met. Among my several suggestions was that before his next meeting with a potential donor, he should get a haircut. [This was not my only suggestion but it is the only one he remembers.] He did. Later on, he told me that his first reaction was annoyance. Then it changed to appreciative: after all, he told me, if I said it, others probably thought it. And shortly thereafter he began to get some funding support. Trivial, yes. But did style matter? I suspect so. [For the record, this fellow’s project is now internationally known.]
To return to OWS: I fear that this administrator misses the forest for the trees, but for her there is no forest, only trees which block her vision. Clearly she is not alone. After all, why evacuate the occupation if not for stylistic reasons? The overwhelming number of occupiers were law abiding, peaceful, sincere, and not disruptive. Undoubtedly some of the thousands of occupiers around the USA were committed to being disruptive, but I suspect that the records shows that there was far more police overreaction than occupier misbehavior. And indeed some of the OWS folks were/are unkempt. Cities don’t like unkempt. It isn’t a fitting public style. Better to clear the parks than let their image be besmirched.
But let’s not lose sight of what really matters, and what OWS really stands for, and why they have successfully defined the agenda even if they are being ousted from their parks: millions of homeless, jobless, hungry people – those who really need our attention – get less daily attention than a few thousand who effectively called our communal attention to those who made them homeless, jobless, and hungry. It is no secret that millions are victims of public policy and private corporate behavior which exacerbates inequities. It is no secret that the middle and lower income strata have seen an erosion of their standing over the last decade, even as the top 1% or .1% have become enriched. Everyone may not agree on all policy and behavior changes but everyone should know that tax inequities which favor only the rich, and corporate exemptions which allow billions of profits without any taxable income are simply wrong. We know that it is morally reprehensible to blame an unemployed or hungry or homeless person for his or her plight. We know that the erosion in public confidence in our government is directly related to those within government or those who lobby it who obstruct government’s ability to do its job. And we know, from history, that a society which feels hopeless takes to the streets and not just to the parks.
Yes, words and style matter. Always have, always will. But not as much as should our commitment to right inequities, save the earth, and give hope to a bereft citizenry.
This is a time for gift giving in the Western world. Can there be any greater gifts than those?
What made life difficult for these two heirs was not merely the standard challenge of deciding which of the many legitimate entities should be funded by their family foundations, but how to honor the clear intent of the funder who gave inherently conflicting messages.
They understood the implicit politics. The founders were Conservative in their political leanings and for them “environmentalism” represented Liberal thinking. But try as they might, it was hard to develop a grantmaking strategy which embraced conservation without accepting elements of environmentalism. After all, underneath all of the sloganeering was a shared belief in the fragility of the physical world as we know it and the need for a gentle stewardship of that world. Priorities for how to redress our shameful destruction of the world, the ozone layer, and the hope for healthy futures can be argued, but only those willfully or politically blind to the evidence will argue that we need not act quickly and forcefully.
Should they be handcuffed by the founders’ words or implement the true underlying imperative? Words matter, these funders realized, but not as much as the issue.
Another recent anecdote: a “1%”er whose liberal political leanings are quite well known called to congratulate us on our articulated support for “Occupy Wall Street.” She called a few minutes later to say that her assistant was very turned off by these very same folks. She complained about their unkemptness, sloppiness, and general demeanor. While my first instinct was to dismiss this trivial complaint, I realized that it cannot be ignored even if trivial. The comments brought to mind two other incidents: one going back over 44 years, the other only about 14. We will return to OWS below.
It was 1967. The counter cultural changes were still new; the anti-war movement was just gathering momentum. I was riding on a crowded public bus on Broadway in Manhattan and standing next to an occupied two-seater. An older gentleman was sitting next to a younger man, the latter with not-yet-customarily-seen long hair. The two were not talking and there was no indication that they had ever met. When the older man got to his stop, he stood up and without provocation punched the younger man in the face and then got off the bus. Evidently the young man’s “style” so offended him that he could not abide even sitting next to such a revolutionary. [Several people held the older person for the police but the younger man decided not to pursue the matter.] Style mattered. Deeply. And for these two, not very trivially.
A more benign example. A relatively young person who viewed himself as a visionary and innovator came to see me in my foundation office which was in one of the most famous luxury buildings in midtown Manhattan. He bemoaned the fact that try as he might, he couldn’t persuade any of the big foundations and mega wealthy to support his new idea. This fellow had an impressive early career, but he had just moved from London and had no USA track record. Why should they fund his idea or him? Moreover, he looked sloppy – and right or wrong, especially so in the context of the offices where we met. Among my several suggestions was that before his next meeting with a potential donor, he should get a haircut. [This was not my only suggestion but it is the only one he remembers.] He did. Later on, he told me that his first reaction was annoyance. Then it changed to appreciative: after all, he told me, if I said it, others probably thought it. And shortly thereafter he began to get some funding support. Trivial, yes. But did style matter? I suspect so. [For the record, this fellow’s project is now internationally known.]
To return to OWS: I fear that this administrator misses the forest for the trees, but for her there is no forest, only trees which block her vision. Clearly she is not alone. After all, why evacuate the occupation if not for stylistic reasons? The overwhelming number of occupiers were law abiding, peaceful, sincere, and not disruptive. Undoubtedly some of the thousands of occupiers around the USA were committed to being disruptive, but I suspect that the records shows that there was far more police overreaction than occupier misbehavior. And indeed some of the OWS folks were/are unkempt. Cities don’t like unkempt. It isn’t a fitting public style. Better to clear the parks than let their image be besmirched.
But let’s not lose sight of what really matters, and what OWS really stands for, and why they have successfully defined the agenda even if they are being ousted from their parks: millions of homeless, jobless, hungry people – those who really need our attention – get less daily attention than a few thousand who effectively called our communal attention to those who made them homeless, jobless, and hungry. It is no secret that millions are victims of public policy and private corporate behavior which exacerbates inequities. It is no secret that the middle and lower income strata have seen an erosion of their standing over the last decade, even as the top 1% or .1% have become enriched. Everyone may not agree on all policy and behavior changes but everyone should know that tax inequities which favor only the rich, and corporate exemptions which allow billions of profits without any taxable income are simply wrong. We know that it is morally reprehensible to blame an unemployed or hungry or homeless person for his or her plight. We know that the erosion in public confidence in our government is directly related to those within government or those who lobby it who obstruct government’s ability to do its job. And we know, from history, that a society which feels hopeless takes to the streets and not just to the parks.
Yes, words and style matter. Always have, always will. But not as much as should our commitment to right inequities, save the earth, and give hope to a bereft citizenry.
This is a time for gift giving in the Western world. Can there be any greater gifts than those?
27 November 2011
How Philanthropy Taught Me to Embrace Failure - A Precondition to Success
How philanthropy taught me to embrace failure – a precondition to success
[This posting bridges my two blog sites: it is both about effective grantmaking and about personal learning. Thus I am posting it on both.]
Typically, I find that I, as with many of my colleagues who write about philanthropy, extrapolate from personal experience to develop insights into good grantmaking strategies, ethics, and impact. This time, however, the reverse is true: after years of grantmaking, and teaching about grantmaking, I have learned very important things about myself.
The issue: the value of failure.
For at least the last decade, anyone who has heard me speak about philanthropy or who has taken a course with me knows that I view private philanthropy to be society’s risk capital. By definition, risk means some possibility of failure. Good grantmakers needs to develop a tolerance that some percentage of their grants will not accomplish everything that they wished or that their grantees strived to do. Grantmakers who support start-ups, early stage organizations, new approaches to almost anything, need to accept that, if they are doing it right, some failure is not only inevitable but indeed desirable.
Even grants to established organizations and projects run the risk of failure. After all, every grant is a bet on the future. And nothing is guaranteed in the future. The market may crash and erode financial stability. A key staff person may leave. A public benefit organization [aka non-profit] may have new and vigorous competition. A highly competent staff may misread early indications of interest as real demand. Unanticipated variables serve to yield unanticipated results. It happens all the time.
Those of us who are funders need to be careful not to penalize these kinds of failures for two reasons: The non-profit was true to its proposal; it just didn’t work. And we as funders endorsed their proposal by funding them; we agreed that it was worth the risk. [I want to make a very real distinction between this kind of failure and that of a grantee that doesn’t do what they say they will do, or doesn’t engage the funder in significant changes in an approved project. Funders have every right to be annoyed and, in some cases, hold the organization financially accountable.]
Let us also make clear that funders themselves have been known to make failure more likely. When funders look at a budget, see that a project needs a certain amount of money and support to have a good chance to succeed; we should not then try to see how little funding we can get away with. Organizations are so hungry for support that they will often swallow hard and accept less than they know they really need. Funders should not be surprised if this project doesn’t succeed. This is not the kind of failure I applaud. But back to our topic:
Why is acceptance of failure so important: when properly examined, one learns what went wrong and what might be done better. It helps distinguish between a great idea poorly implemented and an idea which simply wasn’t ready for prime time. It helps avoid simplistic replication and encourages constructive application.
A case in point [of many]: Some years ago, when I became ceo of the foundation I used to head, one of the first challenges on my plate was to review a very innovative project which we were funding in collaboration with two other foundations. The creator of the project only reported wonderful things about his cutting edge methodology, the wide and prestigious acceptance of the project and the great emerging demand for the program. Before I arrived, a colleague at one of the partner funders didn’t buy it. Since our foundation was the lead funder, we initiated an independent evaluation of the program – and lo and behold – we discovered that almost everything the founder of the program told us was more or less true except that virtually none of the methodology, acceptance and demand had anything to do with the reason the program existed – in other words, to use the vocabulary of some evaluators: the reports were full of “outputs” but failed miserably with “outcomes.” The challenge for us as funders was to determine whether this was a failure of an idea or of implementation, a case of ego driven leadership, or something else. We decided that the idea was a solid one – but the founder was too fond of his own Kool-Aid to see that he had not delivered. A change in professional leadership, some more hands on supervision/direction by me, and a more specific set of expectations led to the program achieving much of what it was intended to do.
It would have been easy to cut the program but we funders chose to learn from our early mistakes. I am quite convinced that the program which emerged after the failure was much better and stronger than it would have been had it not failed in the first place.
This is but one example of many, and it is gratifying that there are a growing number of those in our field who are finally openly discussing the value of learning from what has either failed or significantly underperformed. In fact, I now believe that we can only do excellent funding if we are willing to acknowledge and learn from our mistakes, errors, failures, and shortfalls.
And crucially, since there are no external standards, accreditations, or public independent reviewers of the quality of grantmakers and foundations, any commitment to this kind of quality improvement in our grantmaking must come from within. By no means a simple goal. After all:
Since not everyone takes our courses, contracts with us, or even reads these posts [shocking, I know!], I want to add a word of empathy for those who staff or lead foundations. I fully appreciate that failure is rarely rewarded. Families may see themselves as stewards of very precious resources and legacy and want to be as careful as possible. Corporate foundations may be unwilling to take risks with shareholders’ money and are cautious with possible public fallout. Community foundations want to be identified as supporting the interests of the community and may not want to risk angering or disappointing potential supporters. I am not naïve nor unsympathetic with those who choose to follow a safer – if less adventurous – path with their grantmaking strategy.
But for those who are committed to truly “making a difference”, who recognize that risk can be healthy and rewarding, and who want to push their own grantmaking to excellence, understanding and tolerance of failure are indispensible. It is important that the early efforts to report on and learn from our failures be expanded. When others ask for more transparency in grantmaking, this should be window #1. The entire sector will be the better for it.
Readers whose interest is “philanthropy” and not about me might well stop here.
What does this say to me about me? The more I have learned about the real benefits of risk taking and learning from failure in grantmaking, the more it has helped me understand certain crucial decisions made or avoided in my own professional life.
What I learned was that, for most of my career, I was too risk averse. It wasn’t that I wasn’t ambitious but that my fear of failure overruled my drive for excellence. Certainly, much success has come my way, for which I am thankful and proud, but when I look back, I realize that there were too many occasions when I settled for the good or safe when I could have achieved excellence or made a real difference. My long personal list would be of little interest to readers and perhaps a little too self revealing, but a very few examples may be helpful to others:
• In the mid 1970’s when I was still in academia, I delivered a series of lectures on post-modernism and its impact on late 20th century identity. They were popular and well received. A publisher actually offered to publish them in a book. I froze [writers block?] – and some years later others began saying and publishing those same ideas. I frankly felt a sense of failure that others were saying what I had said earlier. Sadly it was another 30 years before I finally published my first and, to date, only book. What did I learn? That I was more afraid of possible criticisms than I was motivated to get those ideas out there. Big mistake. It might have enhanced the public discourse at an opportune time. Lost opportunities to make a difference.
• I always enjoyed public speaking, and had lots of opportunities since doing so was integral to my careers I always thought I had plenty to say, but couldn’t understand why I wasn’t getting the big invites. I felt like I was a failure in a part of my career that mattered to me a lot. It was not until Mirele helped me understand that indeed I was too inconsistent in my presentation style to be in demand. No one had ever told me that before – in fact I had file folders full of complimentary letters that led me to think I was doing just fine. It was quite late – but not too late - in my career that I participated in a mentoring program offered by the National Speakers Association and learned how to be a more disciplined and much more engaging speaker. Now much of my income comes from my public speaking; return invitations are the norm and not the exception. What did I learn? That no one except you and your spouse are really committed to getting you from “good” to “excellence.” I wish I had learned that much earlier. Big mistake. It might have enhanced my role as a thought leader. Lost opportunities to make a difference.
• Before becoming self employed a decade ago, I had been an employee [even if at a fairly high level] for 35 years. That decision was a bit of a risk I would not have taken earlier, but not relevant to these personal insights. What did surprise me was the response to things I said or wrote after I became my own boss. People, many of whom had known me for many years, told me that they never realized that I had such passion for certain political positions or such a commitment to social change and innovation. My ideas, passions, and commitments had not changed and I always thought they had been evident. Apparently I was too cautious. Of course, when one is an executive and working in organizational leadership, one needs to be self aware of what one says, and when. But in retrospect I overly self-censored and, remarkably, was unaware that I did so. I feel now that I failed those ideas and organizations which would have benefited from my more public articulation of support. What did I learn? That I probably was more afraid of incurring the anger of those who might disagree than providing leadership and insights to expand the public discourse. Big mistake. I was in a leadership role and did not exercise true exemplary leadership. Lost opportunities to make a difference.
The list could go on, but the underlying message is consistent. Risk aversion and caution have their place. But if one is committed to making a difference, of changing at least some part of the world, of having an impact to the extent of ones ability, then one must take risks, incur failure, and most important, learn from them. If philanthropy is much better for that approach, so can one’s own life and career. In both there may have been lost opportunities but in both it is never too late to learn.
[This posting bridges my two blog sites: it is both about effective grantmaking and about personal learning. Thus I am posting it on both.]
Typically, I find that I, as with many of my colleagues who write about philanthropy, extrapolate from personal experience to develop insights into good grantmaking strategies, ethics, and impact. This time, however, the reverse is true: after years of grantmaking, and teaching about grantmaking, I have learned very important things about myself.
The issue: the value of failure.
For at least the last decade, anyone who has heard me speak about philanthropy or who has taken a course with me knows that I view private philanthropy to be society’s risk capital. By definition, risk means some possibility of failure. Good grantmakers needs to develop a tolerance that some percentage of their grants will not accomplish everything that they wished or that their grantees strived to do. Grantmakers who support start-ups, early stage organizations, new approaches to almost anything, need to accept that, if they are doing it right, some failure is not only inevitable but indeed desirable.
Even grants to established organizations and projects run the risk of failure. After all, every grant is a bet on the future. And nothing is guaranteed in the future. The market may crash and erode financial stability. A key staff person may leave. A public benefit organization [aka non-profit] may have new and vigorous competition. A highly competent staff may misread early indications of interest as real demand. Unanticipated variables serve to yield unanticipated results. It happens all the time.
Those of us who are funders need to be careful not to penalize these kinds of failures for two reasons: The non-profit was true to its proposal; it just didn’t work. And we as funders endorsed their proposal by funding them; we agreed that it was worth the risk. [I want to make a very real distinction between this kind of failure and that of a grantee that doesn’t do what they say they will do, or doesn’t engage the funder in significant changes in an approved project. Funders have every right to be annoyed and, in some cases, hold the organization financially accountable.]
Let us also make clear that funders themselves have been known to make failure more likely. When funders look at a budget, see that a project needs a certain amount of money and support to have a good chance to succeed; we should not then try to see how little funding we can get away with. Organizations are so hungry for support that they will often swallow hard and accept less than they know they really need. Funders should not be surprised if this project doesn’t succeed. This is not the kind of failure I applaud. But back to our topic:
Why is acceptance of failure so important: when properly examined, one learns what went wrong and what might be done better. It helps distinguish between a great idea poorly implemented and an idea which simply wasn’t ready for prime time. It helps avoid simplistic replication and encourages constructive application.
A case in point [of many]: Some years ago, when I became ceo of the foundation I used to head, one of the first challenges on my plate was to review a very innovative project which we were funding in collaboration with two other foundations. The creator of the project only reported wonderful things about his cutting edge methodology, the wide and prestigious acceptance of the project and the great emerging demand for the program. Before I arrived, a colleague at one of the partner funders didn’t buy it. Since our foundation was the lead funder, we initiated an independent evaluation of the program – and lo and behold – we discovered that almost everything the founder of the program told us was more or less true except that virtually none of the methodology, acceptance and demand had anything to do with the reason the program existed – in other words, to use the vocabulary of some evaluators: the reports were full of “outputs” but failed miserably with “outcomes.” The challenge for us as funders was to determine whether this was a failure of an idea or of implementation, a case of ego driven leadership, or something else. We decided that the idea was a solid one – but the founder was too fond of his own Kool-Aid to see that he had not delivered. A change in professional leadership, some more hands on supervision/direction by me, and a more specific set of expectations led to the program achieving much of what it was intended to do.
It would have been easy to cut the program but we funders chose to learn from our early mistakes. I am quite convinced that the program which emerged after the failure was much better and stronger than it would have been had it not failed in the first place.
This is but one example of many, and it is gratifying that there are a growing number of those in our field who are finally openly discussing the value of learning from what has either failed or significantly underperformed. In fact, I now believe that we can only do excellent funding if we are willing to acknowledge and learn from our mistakes, errors, failures, and shortfalls.
And crucially, since there are no external standards, accreditations, or public independent reviewers of the quality of grantmakers and foundations, any commitment to this kind of quality improvement in our grantmaking must come from within. By no means a simple goal. After all:
Since not everyone takes our courses, contracts with us, or even reads these posts [shocking, I know!], I want to add a word of empathy for those who staff or lead foundations. I fully appreciate that failure is rarely rewarded. Families may see themselves as stewards of very precious resources and legacy and want to be as careful as possible. Corporate foundations may be unwilling to take risks with shareholders’ money and are cautious with possible public fallout. Community foundations want to be identified as supporting the interests of the community and may not want to risk angering or disappointing potential supporters. I am not naïve nor unsympathetic with those who choose to follow a safer – if less adventurous – path with their grantmaking strategy.
But for those who are committed to truly “making a difference”, who recognize that risk can be healthy and rewarding, and who want to push their own grantmaking to excellence, understanding and tolerance of failure are indispensible. It is important that the early efforts to report on and learn from our failures be expanded. When others ask for more transparency in grantmaking, this should be window #1. The entire sector will be the better for it.
Readers whose interest is “philanthropy” and not about me might well stop here.
What does this say to me about me? The more I have learned about the real benefits of risk taking and learning from failure in grantmaking, the more it has helped me understand certain crucial decisions made or avoided in my own professional life.
What I learned was that, for most of my career, I was too risk averse. It wasn’t that I wasn’t ambitious but that my fear of failure overruled my drive for excellence. Certainly, much success has come my way, for which I am thankful and proud, but when I look back, I realize that there were too many occasions when I settled for the good or safe when I could have achieved excellence or made a real difference. My long personal list would be of little interest to readers and perhaps a little too self revealing, but a very few examples may be helpful to others:
• In the mid 1970’s when I was still in academia, I delivered a series of lectures on post-modernism and its impact on late 20th century identity. They were popular and well received. A publisher actually offered to publish them in a book. I froze [writers block?] – and some years later others began saying and publishing those same ideas. I frankly felt a sense of failure that others were saying what I had said earlier. Sadly it was another 30 years before I finally published my first and, to date, only book. What did I learn? That I was more afraid of possible criticisms than I was motivated to get those ideas out there. Big mistake. It might have enhanced the public discourse at an opportune time. Lost opportunities to make a difference.
• I always enjoyed public speaking, and had lots of opportunities since doing so was integral to my careers I always thought I had plenty to say, but couldn’t understand why I wasn’t getting the big invites. I felt like I was a failure in a part of my career that mattered to me a lot. It was not until Mirele helped me understand that indeed I was too inconsistent in my presentation style to be in demand. No one had ever told me that before – in fact I had file folders full of complimentary letters that led me to think I was doing just fine. It was quite late – but not too late - in my career that I participated in a mentoring program offered by the National Speakers Association and learned how to be a more disciplined and much more engaging speaker. Now much of my income comes from my public speaking; return invitations are the norm and not the exception. What did I learn? That no one except you and your spouse are really committed to getting you from “good” to “excellence.” I wish I had learned that much earlier. Big mistake. It might have enhanced my role as a thought leader. Lost opportunities to make a difference.
• Before becoming self employed a decade ago, I had been an employee [even if at a fairly high level] for 35 years. That decision was a bit of a risk I would not have taken earlier, but not relevant to these personal insights. What did surprise me was the response to things I said or wrote after I became my own boss. People, many of whom had known me for many years, told me that they never realized that I had such passion for certain political positions or such a commitment to social change and innovation. My ideas, passions, and commitments had not changed and I always thought they had been evident. Apparently I was too cautious. Of course, when one is an executive and working in organizational leadership, one needs to be self aware of what one says, and when. But in retrospect I overly self-censored and, remarkably, was unaware that I did so. I feel now that I failed those ideas and organizations which would have benefited from my more public articulation of support. What did I learn? That I probably was more afraid of incurring the anger of those who might disagree than providing leadership and insights to expand the public discourse. Big mistake. I was in a leadership role and did not exercise true exemplary leadership. Lost opportunities to make a difference.
The list could go on, but the underlying message is consistent. Risk aversion and caution have their place. But if one is committed to making a difference, of changing at least some part of the world, of having an impact to the extent of ones ability, then one must take risks, incur failure, and most important, learn from them. If philanthropy is much better for that approach, so can one’s own life and career. In both there may have been lost opportunities but in both it is never too late to learn.
15 October 2011
Parnterships, Collaborations, and Mergers - an updated presentation
Please let me know if you would like to receive this updated power point. Earlier versions, focusing just on Partnerships and Collaborations, were the most requested document/worksheet. It has been newly updated to include a new section on Mergers - particularly the pro's and con's of funders encouraging/forcing mergers among grantees.
Please contact me directly if you would like to receive a copy.
Please contact me directly if you would like to receive a copy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Subscribe To Wise Philanthropy
Posts
All Comments
