I was having a tough day. Lots of work requiring real emotional energy. I was feeling drained.
On my way home a guy is jamming on the jazz piano. Just jamming.
I keep on walking.
Then I stop.
I turn around.
I drop $5 in the bucket.
We exchange a few words. We both smile. Both our days get better.
There’s joy in giving. Real, actual joy.
Nothing intangible about it.
One of the things that I’ve discovered about being a (mostly) vegetarian / (sorta) vegan* is that if I don’t plan accordingly I will nearly always be starving whenever I fly anywhere. The vegetarian options on a plane are inevitably either very sad salads or cheese plates, hence the hunger.
Last week when getting off a plane in San Francisco I had an extra 10 minutes before being picked up at the airport, and I found a small place to get Chinese food, mostly stir-fry. You’ve been to this place and its many cousins: pick the entrée (chicken, beef, etc.) to go with your noodles or rice for $10. As usual there was no non-meat option, which to me means no lunch option, so I asked the woman behind the counter what I could do and she told me that they’d be happy to whip up a vegetable stir fry (for $16, but that’s another story).
This got me thinking about doing what I want versus following rules that I set for myself.
The omnivore I used to be would have happily and without a second thought ordered the chicken or beef entrée. The vegetarian I aspire to be saw nothing to eat and asked a different question that led to a different outcome – one that I was just as happy with (and my omnivorous self would have liked just fine as well, but would never have dreamed of asking). With the pre-existing rule in place I behaved differently and got a better outcome for me.
Reflecting on my ongoing exploration of the practice of generosity, it’s impossible to ignore that virtually every major religion has specific norms and expectations around generosity, giving, caring for others. When I think about what my generosity exploration is a reaction against, part of the answer is the modern, progressive, liberal, often not-so-religious worldview that is all too familiar to me as an American northeasterner who went to a liberal arts college. In this worldview I’m supposed to be aware of and care about the world, supposed to believe in the role of government and believe in social safety nets, but in terms of how I individually am supposed to act, what’s considered right and wrong, sacred and profane, how I fit into a broader group (my community, my religion, my extended family) and how and when I subjugate what feels right to me to rules or expectations or group norms or tradition – it’s a conversation we rarely have and often don’t even know how to start.
What have we lost in this world free of constraints? What do we give up when we shed rules, expectations, obligations, a sense of duty or service or respect for traditions?
The balancing act is that I am a huge believer in bucking tradition, in unshackling ourselves from a set of norms that keep us from contributing to our full potential, to recognizing all that we have to offer and all that the world needs from us. At the same time I know from my own experience that creating a set of expectations – of rules – whether around food or a practice of generosity or, yes, religion causes me to take actions I wouldn’t otherwise take, actions that expose me to different experiences and different people and different behaviors….not each one exactly what I hope it will be, but more often than not I’m discovering wisdom and connection and a sense of place and belonging along the way.
How much do I really know what is best for me and how I carry myself in the world? And how much are we all giving up when we give up our obligations?
* “(sorta) vegan” is what I’m able to pull off without embracing meat/cheese substitutes and/or avoiding nearly all foods and restaurants. It essentially equates to low dairy.
Another surprising revelation from Sandel’s book was hearing how some prominent economists think about generosity and civic action.
In Chapter 3 of What Money Can’t Buy, Sandel talks about Richart Titmuss’ The Gift Relationship, published in 1970, in which Titmuss compared the US and British blood collection system. The British system is entirely voluntary and the U.S. system is part voluntary and part paid. According to Sandel, “Titmuss presented a wealth of data showing that, in economic and practical terms alone, the British blood collection system works better than the American one. Despite the supposed efficiency of markets, he argued, the American system leads to chronic shortages, wasted blood, higher costs, and a greater risk of contaminated blood.”
Titmuss goes further, arguing not just against the inefficiency of the U.S. system but its morality. Paying for blood, he argues, is unfair and corrupting. It preys upon those not in a position to strike a fair bargain (the poor) when deciding whether to give something as vital and inviolable as their own blood.
Famed economist Kennith Arrow’s retort was striking – all the more so because Arrow was known for his work on market imperfections. He was no free market purist. Nevertheless, Arrow stated that Titmuss’ argument was flawed on two fronts. First, Arrow didn’t believe that creation of a market would have negative spillover effects on the voluntary market (my take here is that, for blood, it probably depends on how the two systems are set up, and the impacts could be studied empirically). More surprising was Arrow’s argument about the risks of a voluntary market, and his claim that if something could be solved by a market mechanism it should, so that ethical behavior could be economized.
In Arrow’s words, “I do not want to rely too heavily on substituting ethics for self-interest. I think it best on the whole that the requirement of ethical behavior be confined to those circumstances where the price system breaks down….We do not wish to use up recklessly the scarce resources of altruistic motivation.”
To paraphrase Bill Clinton, “this is important, so I’m gonna repeat it.”
“We do not wish to use up…the scarce resources of altruistic motivation.”
Amazing that Arrow could actually write this, and that anyone could take it seriously as a model of human behavior. Generosity is generative, altruism is an orientation towards the world and a pattern of behavior that creates more kind action, both by the actor and by others. Sure, it’s not limitless – everything must remain in balance – but one of my biggest revelations is that that shifting my own attitude about generosity didn’t exhaust some small, limited supply, it cracked open a door to a whole different way of being (and no, sadly, I don’t live it every day, it’s a lifetime project). Generosity isn’t scarce and finite. Indeed, in its earliest forms, newfound generosity is delicate and prone to being easily cowed. Generosity can only grow if properly nurtured and cultivated, but if it is nurtured, it blossoms, it doesn’t run out.
Taking a big step back, and thinking about the commodified world we live in, I think that Titmuss has it right. The risk we run, in Sandel’s words, is that “the declining spirit of giving made for an impoverished moral and social life” and that, as Titmuss continues, “It is likely that a decline in the spirit of altruism in one sphere of human activities will be accompanied by similar changes in attitudes, motives and relationships in other spheres” and that ultimately we might undermine altruism and a sense of community.
As Titmuss concludes:
The ways in which society organizes and structures its social institutions – and particularly its health and welfare systems – can encourage or discourage the altruistic in man; such systems can foster integration or alienation; they can allow the ‘theme of the gift’ – of generosity towards strangers – to spread among and between social groups and generations.
What does a society look like that encourages the altruist in all of us, that fosters integration? Certainly it is one with strong communities and groups, a sense of connection and of shared responsibility.
Harder still, how does one measure and track the supply of altruism, of generosity, in a society, and is there a risk that as market efficiencies populate every corner of our economic and social interactions, that the notion that one would do anything for anyone “for free” would become such an alien concept that it would erode the very fabric of society and the underpinning of strong communities?
(BONUS: the nice folks at Macmillan Audio reached out after yesterday’s post to let me know that there’s an audio version of What Money Can’t Buy. Here’s a clip.)
Is that most of the time the generosity comes right back at you, except when it doesn’t.
You can lean into that rejection too.
That tiny sense that someone just took advantage of you? It’s a reminder that this isn’t a zero sum game. It’s also a chance to remember that there are times when you, too, were less generous than you could have been.
Whatever you do, don’t let these rebukes stray you from your path.
(and speaking of paths, here’s Nipun Mehta’s beautiful UPenn Commencement speech on generosity – the transcript of which has been read more than 100,000 times)
In addition to all of the beautiful, touching stories I’ve heard about Generosity Day, I’ve also heard some very honest, usually light-hearted stories about people who tried to be generous on Generosity Day and failed. People reached out to help and their hand was slapped away, often by an unknown stranger.
What we know about feedback (e.g. product reviews) is that the people who speak up are at the extremes, so I know that the stories I hear about Generosity Day are the best ones and the worst ones, the most moving ones and the failures.
The failures are quite interesting, and they are teaching us something. There’s a certain class of spontaneous generous action that is all about taking social risk. This is why taking these actions makes us feel uncomfortable. We are breaking social norms and our own patterns of behavior. We are practicing deciding to take a social risk and keeping our promise to ourselves. And we have the chance to reflect on the validity of that pattern and, maybe, to decide to break it.
Guess what? The new behaviors usually work out, and even when they don’t it isn’t all that bad.
So we add another layer in our understanding of why a deliberate practice of generosity might be transformative: because it is a safe opportunity to take social risk and to explore the difference between our terror before the risk and the actual experience of taking that risk.
Behavior changes don’t come from what we read or from what people tell us. Behavior change comes from behaving differently, having something positive happen, and wanting more.
For those of you who had some generosity failures in the midst of your generosity day, I hope you keep at it and I hope the failures showed you that failure isn’t all that bad. Better yet, I hope there were also some great successes that keep you coming back for more.
(HT to Keith Ferrazzi for helping me see the relationship between generous acts and social risk).
In the generosity economy, we are all taking steps to help one another. We are open to possibilities, we work to create success for others, and we hope and expect that others will also open up to and support our own success.
“Trading favors” is entirely different. It is: “Here’s what I’m doing for you now, and what are you going to do for me now or soon in return?”
In one case, you genuinely care about others’ success. In the other case, what you get now and later is really all that matters; you’re just using creative tactics to get there.
In one case, there is an element of faith and trust, and a sense of abundance. In the other case, you believe and act like what you have to offer is scarce, and that the only time to get what is coming to you is right now.
The difference is clear, and everyone can smell it a mile away.
The guys over at 3ThoughtsOn.com asked me to write one of their inaugural posts on generosity. They describe the site as “An Outlet For Renegade Thinkers focused on introducing innovative and adventurous individuals taking intentional steps toward positive change.”
* * * * *
Before December 2009 I’d barely given more than a passing thought to generosity. This despite the fact that my work at Acumen Fund is all about fighting global poverty and that, as a nonprofit, we’re supported by donations. That fact that I spent a lot of time asking others to be more generous and to connect to a higher sense of purpose wasn’t causing me to reflect on how generous I was (or wasn’t). If anything, I felt I’d “given at the office” by virtue of what I’ve chosen to do with my life. It took an experience of not giving to someone who asked for help to send me back to the generosity drawing board, and I’ve been thinking about generosity every since. Starting that day, I conducted a month-long generosity experiment to see what it felt like to say “yes” for 30 days to every request for help; and later, together with a few friends, I helped create Generosity Day on February 14th, 2011 as a reboot of Valentine’s Day. Here’s what I’ve begun to understand:
Generosity is first and foremost about human connection
When someone asks you for help, the first decision you make is whether to stand tall in the face of that request and that person. When we don’t stand tall it’s often because our heads, our infinite ability to analyze and rationalize, our fear that we someday might be in a position of real need all scream at us to run and hide. What could be more terrifying, more honest, or more simple than seeing that someone standing right in front of is in need and that we are in a position to help? What could be more powerful than choosing to act? Generosity starts with this basic acknowledgment of our shared humanity. It honors the fabric that binds us to each other. It recognizes that that the person asking me for help is just as human as I am.
Generosity is generative
Generosity begets generosity, which means that our power to act and to create a shift in the world is unbounded. We know that when someone discovers a few extra quarters in a vending machine they are much more likely to be generous to the next person – to pick up papers that someone has dropped or to help them solve a problem. There literally is a multiplier effect of generous action: one generous act begets another. Our opportunity, then, is to create a shift not in one or two actions but instead in the place that generosity holds in our self-image and, ultimately, in how we walk through the world. This is why we started Generosity Day in 2011 and why we’re doing it again on February 14th, 2012 – to create huge ripples throughout the world, to show people what’s possible.
Generosity alone is not enough
Generosity is nothing more and nothing less than the foundation upon which we build. We won’t solve the big problems of the world just by opening our hearts. That is a dangerous dream, because the stakes are much too high. Yet without generosity too many doors are closed, too much judgment creeps in. Without generosity empathy is not given a space in which to grow and we experience the terrible misfortune of undervaluing the gifts we have been given. In so doing we run the risk of forgetting that each of us has something important to offer in creating solutions big and small.
To me, generosity is an active orientation towards the world and all its messiness. It is a refusal to walk by, to shut down, to pretend that if we just keep our heads down everything will turn out OK. It won’t, at least not without all of us.
Leon Neyfakh at the Boston Globe just published a nice article about why people give to charity. The bottom line seems to be: the more people think and the more information they’re given, the less people give.
So, for example, from Neyfakh’s article :
Daniel Oppenheimer, a psychologist at Princeton and coeditor of the book “The Science of Giving,” found that simply giving people information about a charity’s overhead costs makes them less likely to donate to it. This held true, remarkably, even if the information was positive and indicated and the charity was extremely efficient.
AND
The best approach for a charity raising money to feed hungry children in Mali, the team [Deborah Small at Wharton and George Loewenstein of Carnegie Mellon University] found, was to simply show potential donors a photograph of a starving child and tell them her name and age. Donors who were shown more contextual information about famine in Africa — the ones who were essentially given more to think about — were less likely to give.
The first question we can ask ourselves about these findings is: what exactly is someone doing when they decide to give? It is a rational, maximizing decision or is it first and foremost (as I would argue it is) an act of passion and a statement of purpose? Based on what we think is going on, we can decide whether or not to be surprised that our rational mind tends to curb generous actions.
Borrowing from another corner of human behavior, I’d observe that we don’t spend the most when we’re told all the specs of what’s under the hood (RAM, processor speed, CD/DVD features, etc.); we spend the most when we’re sold a dream and a story about who we are and who we can be (the iMac). Having all the specs gets us comparison shopping online and buying at CompUSA, trying to save another $20 with a mail-in rebate on a $999 purchase. The story and the dream gets us to buy an iPad when no one could ever convince anyone that what’s missing in our life is a “tablet PC.”
And so, once we’ve realized that our surprise is misplaced, what are we to do with the (still residually troubling) finding?
We want a philanthropic “marketplace” in which the best ideas win out, in which the organizations that are most effective and that are making the most change in the world attract the most donor dollars. Yet, armed with information from psychologists and behavioral economists, we fear that the same forces that are creating a needed pull to nonprofit accountability could inadvertently be undermining the generous action that is the lifeblood of all philanthropy.
(Side note: for another day, there’s a whole conversation here about whether accountability inadvertently undermining generosity is another way to describe what’s going on in the evolution of the impact investing space).
So how do we fight this? How do we keep generosity alive?
I can’t help but come full circle back to my original generosity experiment, to see what happens when I graft these new findings onto my original, not fully articulated instinct that I needed to make a shift: steeped in the culture of “new,” “better,” “higher impact” philanthropy – through my work at Acumen Fund and as part of the social enterprise space – I felt the foundation of my own giving was buckling under the weight of all the left-brain analytics. Nothing was ever good enough, impactful enough, scalable enough, anything enough. I needed to (and continue to need to) reinforce that foundation with a practice of generosity that was as powerful, as forceful, as robust as the added weight of my demands for nonprofit excellence.
I’d this a step further and argue that those who are beating the drum for increased nonprofit and philanthropic accountability owe it to themselves and to the world to ensure that we are cultivating and advocating for a deep and abiding spirit of generosity in everything we do. As a start, I invite you all to be active participants, on February 14th, 2012, in Generosity Day.
Where we all hope to arrive is a practice of giving that starts and ends with generosity – with each and every step infused with all of the right, tough questions. The challenge from the research is that, in practice, this is incredibly difficult to do.
But rather than advocate either for turning off the brain or for throwing the generosity baby out with the bathwater, I’d suggest that we have some old traditions that hold the answers we seek. Tithing is, at its core, a pre-commitment to give and a recognition that there’s strength in a common bond and a clear expectations about the individual actions that create a strong whole.
We too can pre-commit, we can decide in advance – whether because of our faith, because of a sense of shared ownership, or because we understand that if we are in a place to give then we have been blessed – that we are going to give a certain amount every year. We can lay that foundation of generosity and make it strong by sharing the commitment with others who engage in the same practice as we do. And then we can get as wonky, as robust, as analytical as we like about where we are going to give the money, with, I hope, the space to retain every last bit of joy and abundance that giving entails, no matter how smart it is.
My dream for advocating for more generosity in the world isn’t because, alone, generosity is all that we need. But it is and always must be the foundation for everything that we do, the intention that underlies each and every action.
Some beautiful reflections on generosity from Nipun and the guys over at ServiceSpace (the creators of SmileCards). Nipun’s post over at DailyGood is definitely worth a read too.
John Tierney wrote a smart piece in the Sunday New York Times about the salubrious effects of gratitude. He write, “Cultivating an ‘attitude of gratitude’ has been linked to better health, sounder sleep, less anxiety and depression, higher long-term satisfaction with life and kinder behavior toward others, including romantic partners.”
The far-reaching effects of gratitude make it sound like a wonder-pill that could be sold on QVC: “THIS simple book will describe the AMAZINGLY EASY STEPS that will help you sleep better, feel less anxious, will lower your blood pressure AND help your marriage!!” I’m sure the first 1,000 of those would sell out in minutes.
On a more serious note, what I found intriguing was the omnidirectional impacts of gratitude: something as simple as keeping a gratitude journal (listing five things you’re grateful for, one sentence each) made people more optimistic and happier, and they “reported fewer physical problems and spent more time working out” (wow); students who had been given help fixing a broken computer were more likely to volunteer to help a complete stranger with a task; writing an essay about gratitude made students less likely to retaliate when they received criticism.
This harkens back to the circular – as opposed to reciprocal – culture of gift-giving. As Lewis Hyde explains in The Gift, there is strong cultural norm in many traditional societies in favor of gifts flowing in a circle. In the Kula ceremonial exchange of the Massim people of Papua New Guinea, for example, “male” red shell necklaces worn by women move clockwise around the islands of New Guinea, and “female” armshells worn by men move counterclockwise around the island (sometimes traveling hundreds of miles before complete the circle). Since you never give to a person who has given to you, and vice-versa, the notion of group membership is reinforced and the undertow of reciprocal obligation is kept at bay (e.g. “I’ll buy a table at your benefit dinner if you buy one at mine.”)
With this perspective, we can deepen our understanding of what happens when one engages in an act of generosity. In the narrowest sense, someone is helped. Broadening a little, the giver, especially if she is conscious of and reflective about her actions, will, over time, be transformed through the repeated act of giving. Most interesting – seen through the prism of the research on gratitude – engaging in a generous act creates a chain reaction of ongoing good action and good feeling: another generous act done by the person to whom you were generous; an increase in well-being; less likelihood of retaliation when that person is wronged…and on and on we go.
This is what’s really going on when we act generously. The person to whom we are being generous, whoever she is, is not some sort of passive, faceless “recipient,” and the power of that generous act does not dead-end with the her. It ripples out. It spreads into her lives and into the lives of others.
And so what we know intuitively is supported by the research: if we can get a big enough number of people to make generosity integral to how they move through the world, the shift that begins with them will multiply.
Happy Thanksgiving.
