PHILANTHROPY
IN ACTION
CONTINUED - PAGE 2 OR 2
The
Homeless
The homeless and
derelict populations of large cities such as New York have increased
substantially in recent years. Part of the cause appears to be reduced
public funds for welfare; of perhaps even greater significance has been
the decision to "mainstream" large numbers of the mentally ill
and others thought to be at risk in modern urban environments.
A well-publicized
controversy arose in New York City in 1983 over the rights of religious
organizations serving the homeless under city contracts. The Salvation
Army and the Roman Catholic Church objected to requirements that, as
contractors to the city, they sign statements affirming nondiscrimination
in employment for homosexuals. The case appears to be a classic example of
the conflict of two social goods.
• Do charitable
organizations have special rights under the law that exempt them from
legislation deemed to be in conflict with their ability to carry out their
charitable objectives?
• Does charitable
assistance to the poor lead to pauperization?
• Does
charitable assistance to the poor relieve families of their obligations to
family members who may be retarded or otherwise found
"unacceptable" or too burdensome in the home?
• Have private
agencies, especially those representing specific and strong religious
convictions, be permitted to intervene in the lives of the homeless with
financial support from public as well as private sources? Does the
combination of efforts of New York City and the Salvation Army in behalf
of the homeless violate the separation of church and state?
• Does public
charity acting around rules of civil service develop workers in sufficient
number and professional commitment to deal with the growing population of
homeless, the mentally incompetent elderly, and those terminally ill? In
the past, many if not most workers in these fields of service have been
drawn to them by religious calling. Can a secular society inspire service
of similar levels of self-sacrifice?
Social Philosophy and Policy
This last example
deals with the thorny questions that grow out of reflection on the
relationship of money and ideas, of means and influence.
The present
conference is an example of private voluntary funds being used to
encourage the discussion and publication of the thoughts of philosophers
and others about "Private Philanthropy and the Social Good." As
this essay has attempted to demonstrate, the role of private
philanthropy is far broader than fund raising and grantmaking, although it
appears that most academics limit their reflection on the tradition to
this single dimension. Some of the examples cited here—controlling
nuclear weapons, the Central American conflict, the efforts to defeat
apartheid in South Africa—call to mind the extensive interaction among
campus-based academics, intellectuals in publishing and media, and the alliances
of secular intellectual with religious spiritual forces.
In some cases, the
philanthropic objectives to be served come in conflict with the sources of
support. The risks fall on all participants
in a philanthropic venture, not simply on those whose money is involved.
More than money is in the game for the participants—status, prestige,
reputation, and credibility are also at risk. This is often especially
true in situations that are thought to be controversial: Risk is shared by
corporations who may alienate shareholders and prospective investors; by
churches divided into contending factions within local congregations; by
colleges and universities drawn into sometimes disruptive debates about
external issues, debates that may antagonize otherwise sympathetic donors,
parents, or prospective faculty members.
The larger public
agenda advanced by a non-profit organization may jeopardize the original
and life-giving mission of the organization itself. Funds to supplant the
funds lost to higher causes seem to be in short supply. The consequences
of action may be ennobling and organizationally fatal at the same time.
The self-interest of
donors is often lamented; less often heard is concern about the
self-interest of recipients. Philosophers who deal with social and
political philosophy deal routinely with explosive material, not only in
the classroom, but in their published work. Because some ideas of intellectual
interest to philosophers are offensive in the larger society, it is often
difficult for philosophers to find patrons or sponsors. (On occasion that
is all too frequent, the threat to open philosophical discourse about
issues or positions that are unpopular comes from within the academy
rather than from outside. The most effective pressure on an academic may
be that posed by hierarchical superiors in whom are vested powers over
tenure decisions and promotion.)
Philosophers who
affirm the standard of reason are also vulnerable to charges of bias,
partisanship, and ideology when dealing with social issues. They may
sometimes be rewarded for that same partisanship, of course, by pleasing
those in the friendly camp, whether the camp is filled with internal or
external allies. But discourse suffers when partisanship triumphs, when
interest—political, economic, or social—seems to outweigh rational
argument.
It is difficult for
the non‑philosophers to know how to cope with situations in which
the experts—the philosophers—accuse one another of ideological
distortion. In complex political situations, the facts are difficult to
obtain as well as to interpret; the "data" are harder to control
than in the scientific laboratory. It is much more difficult to reach
agreement on public policy issues such as world hunger, political
stability and peace in Central America, efforts to improve the prospects
for world peace in the face of mass annihilation, and so on. Such issues
raise difficult and often imprecise questions of the sort put forward
here. Yet such issues cry out for the wisdom as well as the skills of
those who devote their careers to thinking carefully about the social
world and its values.
• To what extent does the world of philanthropy behave as a
marketplace, where different styles, fashions, and ideologies compete for
support? To what extent do (and should) intellectuals compromise their
intellectual objectives in order to win support?
• Is the
marketplace of grants materially different from the campus competition for
students or the publishing competition for readers? Should different
standards of behavior be expected of the participants?
•
How
should philosophers be paid? ("Generously!" cried out one
listener when I posed that question to another audience. By earning
their income from the sale of their work as teachers, writers,
consultants, and lecturers? By subsidy from government agencies? By
individual patronage? By subsidies in the form of grants from foundations
and corporations? By some or all of the above?
• How should
grantmakers choose among the possible investments in social philosophy and
policy? Should the goal be to encourage work on issues at the fringe of reflection
and speculation, or should the goal concentrate on more immediate and
practical objectives?
• What are the most
successful models of the subsidy of philosophy? Which models appear to be
most reliable over time?
• Is the
philanthropic relationship corrupting in the realm of ideas as it is
sometimes alleged to be in the realm of charity and almsgiving?
• Are philosophers
to be trusted more in dealing with sensitive issues of social policy than
are foundation executives, corporate executives, agents of government?
Conclusion
PHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY
The hope of this
paper is that it will cause trained and experienced students of philosophy
to give clarity and direction to the philosophical discussion of
philanthropy, as broadly defined here. What are the philosophical methods
appropriate to addressing these particular questions?
Treated
philosophically, the cases briefly defined here might prove to be the
basis for extracting the ill-defined principles of philanthropy. They
might help to bring to conscious reflection the inconsistencies,
paradoxes, and contradictions between philanthropic behavior in
different settings.
How do the specific
questions reveal larger social issues? For example, to what extent may
they be used to consider in concrete terms some of the underlying trade-offs
between the short-term and long-term? They force us, I believe, to
consider the political dimension of philanthropic action—the gray area
between public education and consciousness raising, on the one hand, and
lobbying, on the other. How might we begin to formulate a defensible
distinction between philanthropy intended to improve the quality of life
in the community and political action that proclaims the same high
purpose?
Moving from specific
examples of philanthropy in action (more fully and carefully delineated
than they are sketched out here, of course), we can begin to identify the
characteristics of voluntary action. It would seem from the cases
themselves, for example, that there is a greater readiness for interaction
among the not-for-profit, for-profit, and governmental sectors during
times of crisis and times that are more normal.
Such observations
might, in turn, eventually carry us to higher levels of philosophical
discourse: For example, to what extent is the philanthropic dimension
determinative of the social order? To what extent does philanthropy reveal
the nature of society?
PHILANTHROPY IN EDUCATION
The emphasis of this
essay has been on the contribution to social philosophy and policy that
might result from a better understanding of philanthropy in action. The
conference itself has called upon distinguished scholars to address the
underlying fundamental questions raised by philanthropic values and
behavior; practitioners of various sorts have approached the subject
from a different perspective. The study of philanthropy should be
considered in the framework of education as well as that of research,
policy, and practice. How should philanthropy be approached in teaching?
The illustrations of philanthropy in action that make up the second part
of this book appear as grist for most of the disciplinary mills of the
humanities and social sciences. I have proposed that we deal with their
philanthropic dimension explicitly, within the framework of existing
courses and curricula.
What are the
principles of philanthropy, and how are they taught and learned? By
systematic investigation in formal academic study, or by experience and
the guidance of mentors in the context of voluntary service? What are
the appropriate methods of philanthropy, the methods that best protect
the integrity of the philanthropic relationship? Is the model of non-profit
organization effective? Can voluntary initiative carry the burden of
important social needs, of advancing the spheres of distributive justice?
Must charity be coerced?
These questions may
be appropriate to liberal education in preparation for a life of public
service. They may be of considerable consequence in the general education
of young Americans as citizens. They are questions, however, that go well
beyond technical competence. Technical competence is also required of
young people these days, as is competence in verbal and mathematical
expression and reasoning, and the useful skills of dealing with others.
(The skills of dealing with other people are of special importance in
situations where responses are not obligatory and where self-interest is
often unclear. These are common situations when people come together for
public purposes.) Questions of value, purpose, morality, and meaning are
raised by exploration of philanthropy in action. They are also questions
of the kind that most people still think of as philosophical questions.
Does philanthropy then have a proper place in the philosophical
curriculum?
