In the wake of welfare state's decline, there are also increasing signs that western Europe and Japan are encouraging a larger and more active private philanthropic practice to make up for some of the reductions in public spending for social goods. These nations now borrow eagerly from the American experience. The Japanese are busily establishing foundations and organizing corporate philanthropy; British and French universities are turning to business corporations and even to alumni for financial support.

Although attracted by the possibility of offsetting public expenditures by private giving, these countries have not yet discovered that it is in the voluntary and nonprofit third sector that the moral agenda of government is given form. Emerson's four elements of insight, affection, will, and leadership, empowered by organization, assert the claims, even though Emerson himself opposed them:

If an angry bigot assumes the bountiful cause of Abolition, and comes to me with his last news from Barbadoes, why should I not say to him, "Go love thy infant; love thy wood­chopper: be good-natured and modest; have that grace; and never varnish your hard, uncharitable ambition with this incredible tenderness for black folk a thousand miles off.[1]

It is out of the competing rhetoric that the moral vision of some people becomes the moral standard of the nation as a whole. Nor does the process end there: it is the function of philanthropy as moral discourse to point out the gaps between the ideal and the actual—whether it be in terms of civil rights, the claims of the poor and defenseless, or the protection of the natural environment.

The high aspiration of philanthropy is inseparable from low technique. Egoism is on the same scale as altruism, and cannot be wholly removed from it. The sublime in the philanthropic tradition is often deflated by the mundane. Giving money is inseparably linked to raising money. Raising money often requires appeals to emotion rather than clean, objective, logical demonstration. As scholars and artists find to their dismay, merit is not always self-evident to prospective patrons. There is a widespread inability to remain inspired to do good while using guile and pressure to make doing good possible.

The evidence for my thesis is to be found in particular cases, and they lie conveniently at hand. It is helpful to imagine what it would mean to have to deal with these cases without a third sector, leaving them exclusively to the agencies of government and marketplace. What would America be, in theory, without its philanthropic tradition?

I . International human rights. A popular singer named Paul Simon performed at a benefit concert in Zimbabwe recently with a group of South African musicians. Simon has also recorded a new album, "Graceland," described by him in U.S. News and World Report as rooted in "black music on the other side of the Atlantic." Simon says that "I knew 'Graceland' had political implications and just hoped that the music would be interpreted as a positive statement insofar as the black peoples of South Africa were concerned."[2]

Beyond the commercial recording and concert, the so-called benefit—at which those in attendance share in entertainment contributed by performers—or other social gatherings where the excess of income over expense is donated to charity, is designed to raise funds for the cause and at the same time to call broader public attention.

These two concerts were part of an international philan­thropic endeavor, a kind of secular missionary activity. Popular culture exploits its appeal to recruit new followers to the cause of human rights. There is also an appeal to an ill-defined sense of solidarity, a joining of hands across borders and across racial and ethnic lines to give participants a sense of strength and momentum. Beneficent interventions of this kind—to help the poor of the world, to bring down the racist government of South Africa—are often applauded by those who find other forms of cultural imperialism unacceptable.

The antiapartheid movement in the United States has been sustained almost entirely by philanthropic effort. It is unusual in not being primarily dependent on ethnicities, as is the effort to relieve the oppression of Jews in the Soviet Union or to support rebellion in Northern Ireland, to cite two more typical examples. The American opposition to apartheid gathers its support in this country from those who are most strongly committed to the advancement of civil rights.

Certain styles of moral discourse seem to be effective and appealing to some groups. Common patterns of behavior and perceived analogies appear over time among diverse and previously unrelated causes. These sometimes lead to the formation of coalitions along ideological lines. The emergence of social movements out of this process is only dimly understood and is too little studied by philanthropic practitioners.

Those engaged in philanthropic practice give little evidence of being concerned about philanthropic theory. The function of philanthropy as moral discourse remains hidden. For example, one moral issue that is seldom publicly faced by supporters of rebellion in Northern Ireland or resistance to apartheid in South Africa is that of offering money and moral support without sharing directly in the mortal risks entailed.

A major failure of much Philanthropic activity intended as moral action is that it thus often appears to be empty symbolism, obscuring rather than sharpening the moral issues. The search for rhetorical impact requires suppression of detail and complexity. In the heat of the struggle there is little time or sympathy for structured moral discourse, especially among those whose philanthropic role may mask political ambitions or the search for financial gain.

Moral discourse in philanthropy should be—but seldom is—candid about its own persuasive devices. The ethics of rhetoric is given less attention than are the moral objectives to be won by rhetorical means. Ends are thus commonly and uncritically used to justify means. Action overwhelms re­flection. (And Emerson asks, "If malice and vanity wear the coat of philanthropy, shall that pass?")

Because philanthropic intervention in behalf of others has its greatest consequences for those helped rather than for those helping, the ethic of responsibility is also weak. Those whose philanthropy is based on moral absolutes find themselves mired in inconsistency in a world where good and evil are so haphazardly distributed and so difficult to disentangle.

• A small child from the Philippines is brought to Wash­ington for surgery to correct severe congenital deformities of the hands and feet. The surgery is performed by professional medical staff members who have volunteered their services, and performed in a religiously affiliated hospital that donated its facilities. This act of mercy is the work of the Washington chapter of an organization called Operation Smile, "founded in 1982 to improve medical treatment of children of other countries.[3]

Religion accounts for almost half of the private giving in America, and churches and other religiously inspired organizations enlist the efforts of tens of millions of volunteers. Religious organization is behind large numbers of daycare centers and homes for the elderly and infirm, and religious denominations founded many, if not most, hospitals and colleges. Religious values based directly on biblical injunctions continue to color philanthropic activity.

It is a common American practice, originating in Christian universalism and made possible by the nation's relative affluence, to make its medical resources available to citizens of other countries, as in the case of Operation Smile. This practice calls us to rise above the commonplace that "charity begins at home," at least while absorbing substantial costs in the treatment of a child from a foreign country, despite the fact that very large numbers of American children lack medical care for which their need is presumably as great as that of the child from the Philippines.

Operation Smile and other organizations argue for a universal beneficence, sustained most generously by Americans until such time as other, less advantaged nations acquire medical resources of equal quality. Yet, "Thy love afar is spite at home," Emerson argued. Many would still agree.