Generosity experiment revisited

A few weeks ago I started a generosity experiment.  The idea, sparked by a homeless man to whom I did not give, was to spend a period of time saying ‘yes’ to all requests to give – whether a person on the street, a donation request from a nonprofit, whatever.

Some people, like Jeff, really hated the idea at first (“AHH! NOO! STOP!” was his initial reaction); others shared my sense that the practice of being generous itself was inherently valuable.

A month later, I’m glad for the experiment.  I gave more than I normally do and I gave more often.  And it felt good and right, especially during the holidays, a time when presents of all sorts were flying in all directions.

And while I won’t continue giving to virtually everyone who asks, I will give more and more often.  The practice of being generous instead of critical (discerning?) is, I have found, important for at least two reasons:  first, we are how we act, so if I can habitually act more generous, I will be and become a more generous person.  Second, the experiment served as a deeper exploration of how much giving is an act of self-expression, rather than (or in addition to) a “purchase” of a social outcome.

The people who didn’t like my experiment all said something like, “If I pass a person on the street asking for money, I don’t give because I know it makes more sense to give to a homeless shelter.”  Put another way, one could better purchase social change for a homeless person by giving to a shelter or a food bank.   Objectively, that’s probably true (though one doesn’t know for sure).  However, it also misses something: first, because whether or not you give a dollar or two to a person on the street really doesn’t affect the larger donation you’ll hopefully make to the homeless shelter or the food bank; second, because the act of saying ‘no’ over and over again is reinforcing something in you and in me.

I’m not saying give every time, I’m asking us to be honest about why we do and don’t give, and to recognize the effect it has on us.

Let’s take an extreme example: suppose that over the course of the year I’m asked to give 200 times – maybe 100 times directly and 100 times by various nonprofits in various ways.  And let’s say I have a limited amount of money to give, which I do.  Isn’t the practice of saying ‘no’ 195 times and ‘yes’ 5 times reinforcing a mindset and habit that I’m the kind of person who says no when people ask for help?  And couldn’t there be a way to say “yes” 15 or 50 or 100 times that would reinforce something else entirely?

I don’t want to take this too far – to the conclusion that all philanthropists should spread their funding widely so that they can practice saying ‘yes.’  That’s not right either.

But I do want to push myself and others to ask whether it is healthy to think of every giving decision from the head rather than from the heart.  Can’t the argument that “this isn’t the best use of my money” be paralyzing or, worse, an excuse never to part with any money, because nothing is ever good enough?

Maybe a request for a gift isn’t always chance to analyze what is or isn’t the “best” use of my money.  Instead, maybe a request for a gift is an opportunity to practice being the person that I want to be – someone whose first response is to be open and generous.

And maybe, with practice, I will be transformed in a way that is powerful for me and for the world.


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I owe you

A good friend was recently working on a freelance job on a very short deadline. She did a bang-up job, made her client look great, and sent in her bill for the hours she worked. The client responded: “I don’t think you billed us enough for this job.”

Nice.

Most business relationships have an adversarial undertone: we’re going to be collaborators and co-creators, but let’s duke it out over the contract first, and then let’s make sure it’s under budget because that will make me look good. I win when the project makes me look like a star, and you’ll get what we agreed upon in the first place. That was our deal.

It’s so easy to go back to the contract, to explain to yourself that your hands are tied and that you’re being fair. But there are times when you know you owe someone, when you know you got a great deal.

Go ahead, step up and say, “We made a mistake. You didn’t charge me enough for what you delivered. I owe you.”

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Generosity experiment

On the subway today, a man was asking for donations so he could buy food, sandwiches, deodorant, even hand sanitizer to give for free to homeless people.  He had lived on the street two decades ago, he said, and now does this part time to give back, in addition to a part time job he holds.

I have absolutely no idea if this is true, but I was skeptical. I, along with everyone else in my car, got off the train without giving him any money.  Right after I got off the train I knew I had done the wrong thing.  It just didn’t feel right.

Most of the time I don’t give to people on the street. It seems to make sense, rationally, not to give most of of the time — and instead to give to great organizations that are doing things for the homeless. Perhaps, but it’s easy to take this too far. 

Giving is an act of self-expression, and generosity is a practice. Each time I decide not to give, I’m reinforcing a way of acting – one that’s critical and analytical and judgmental.

You may not be like this at all.  You may consistently act from the heart first and not the head.  Good for you.  More often than not, I don’t, though it’s something I’m working to change.

So I’ve been thinking that I need to try a generosity experiment: for a period of time, when I’m asked to give, to say yes.  To everything.  To emails and people on the street and friends raising money.  Everyone.  I think it will be good practice.

What do people think?  Does this make sense? [sic]

P.S. More on this topic from the Freakonomics blog, where Barbara Ehrenreich is very clear that you always give to someone on the street who directly asks you. 

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The junk drawer experiment

My house has a junk drawer, somewhere for keys and phone chargers and pens and post-its…and whatever other random things seem like they should be around but don’t have an obvious home.

For the last two years, it’s been almost impossible to close the drawer.

For a while I’d grudgingly clean it every few months, painstakingly sorting through what should stay and what I wanted to throw out.  Invariably, two weeks later it would be overflowing again.

Three months ago I tried something different with the drawer.  I took a plastic bag and dropped everything I didn’t absolutely need from the drawer into the bag.  But I didn’t throw the bag out – I just put it aside.  This way I was comfortable putting a lot more stuff in the bag, instead of leaving things in the drawer that I wasn’t ready to throw out.  I was curious to see how long it took for me to look for something in that bag.

Surprise, surprise: I’m at three months and counting, and I have yet to go look for the bag.  Pretty soon, I’m going to have to admit that I’m ready to throw it and the former contents of the drawer out.

I wonder if there’s any application here to philanthropy – to help us all as givers in our own practice of aparigraha, or non-hoarding? (which is something I talked more about here).  Could you create a vehicle for people (everyday people, not just ultra-high net worth individuals who for lots of reasons create private foundations) to set aside money to see how it feels to live without the money for a while?  Some sort of escrow account that’s practice for giving more, where people could put the money aside with a plan to give but the option to get it back?

How would you structure it?  What would the mechanics be?  Who would you want to have involved – financial institutions, 401(k) providers, non-profits, online giving marketplaces? What would you name it?  How would you spread the word?

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Without even asking

One of my first blog posts (and one that still gets a lot of traffic) was about Maimonides’ eight levels of charity, or tzedakah. What interests me about this text is the recognition that people give for different reasons, some more base, and some more laudable.

One of the more honorable form of charity, according to Maimonides, is giving without ever being asked to give.  Lately, during my day job, I’ve been getting more calls from people who want to make significant gifts to Acumen Fund.  Until you’ve had a conversation with someone who decided, independently and without anyone asking, to make a major philanthropic donation, it’s hard to appreciate fully what an amazing gift this is.  And while I fully believe in the importance and the power of asking as a way of mobilizing people to action, the selflessness that’s required proactively to reach out to a nonprofit with an unsolicited decision to make a significant gift…well that’s just the kind of decision that makes me want to wake up the next morning and work harder and do more.

So whether it’s to support Acumen Fund or any organization that is doing good work, my thanks goes out today to those of you who give and who ask for nothing in return.  You know who you are, and your humility and generosity give me great hope.

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Delight in the unexpected

I just received a totally unexpected, perfect gift out of the blue from a friend for absolutely no reason.  It’s probably the most surprising gift I ever received.  It showed the person was paying attention and thinking of me; it was just what I wanted; and there was no good reason to give it to me, so the surprise factor was off the charts.

Lately my wife has been less and less interested in the big meal and big gift on the big day (anniversary, Valentine’s day, birthdays) in favor of the perfect meal at a surprising time on an otherwise inconsequential evening; the “I just saw this today and I thought you would love it” gift.

Delight is about the gap between what you expect and what you receive, so you have to pick the right thing at exactly the right moment — which is exactly when someone least expects it.

We all might want to rethink when is the right time to try to delight our customers, friends, loved ones.

Happy weekend.

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Ask and ask again

Ira Glass, host of the NPR show This American Life, has a new twist on getting people to give to NPR.  As part of NPR’s funding drive, Ira is calling people on the phone and having them “turn in” family members who don’t give to NPR, despite being devoted listeners.  I heard Ira call up a woman who said her parents “subjected” her to NPR for years when she was growing up (now she’s a fan).  On the radio, the daughter gets the mother to the phone and says, “Mom, I’ve got Ira Glass on the phone and he wants to know why, after so many years, you haven’t given to NPR?”   It’s the light, respectful version of the phone tap.

(For a laugh, here’s the audio of Ira’s calls to Megan, Paul, and Kathleen from January 21, 2009.)

I used to spend 8 hours a week driving to and from work – a horrible waste of time, but I did get to listen a lot of NPR.  The pledge drive always was painful, but I admit that it sometimes took being asked more than once for me to remember to give.  And I fell for all the tricks – 2x and 3x matches; give a certain amount and get a copy of The Silver Spoon cookbook, you name it. I guess I and the rest of the listeners got what we deserved – it took that much ear-pounding to get us to give.

What I like most about the pledge drives is that the hosts of shows I listened to every day would get on the radio and say, “If you liked this show, if you listened to it all year long and if it made a difference in your life, you should support us financially.”  No qualms, no apologies.

I do think there are better ways to raise money, but it is helpful to be reminded that we often have to ask more than once to get someone to make a financial commitment (especially the first time).

A parting thought: I wonder if the NPR hosts themselves dread this or are proud to ask for money?

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Create your own reality

A few weeks ago my wife and I took a cab at night in New York city.  As we were leaving we noticed a black bag on the floor in the back seat.  It contained a Lonely Planet Guide to the USA, two pairs of ticket stubs (a Knicks game at Madison Square Garden and the Museum of Natural History), a digital camera, a business card of a trainer at New York Sports Club, and a copy of an Australian passport with some phone numbers in Kenya handwritten on the back.

We had a mystery on our hands.

We made a few phone calls to places that were underlined in the Lonely Planet guide.  The Harlem Flophouse was absolutely no help – the person who answered the phone didn’t speak English very well and had never heard of the guest.  We left a message at NY SportsClub.  Then we looked at the photos on the digital camera, hoping that somehow this person had photographed the outside of their hotel in NYC (sure!).  No luck on that count, but clearly our forgetful traveler had been all over the world on a long trip, including a stint in what looked like sub-Saharan Africa. What a shame to lose the record of that experience.

Next step: the Internet.  Facebook, Australian Whitepages, etc.  Luckily the traveler’s name was uncommon.  We sent a few emails, even tried calling an opthamologist’s office in Australia on Skype – but it was closed for a holiday and you couldn’t even leave a message.

A week passed, and then another.  Nothing. The trail had run cold.

Then, an email last night.  Our world-traveling Australian was back home.  He was thrilled, and so were we.  Better yet, his good friends are leaving tonight back to Australia.  We met this morning, and I gave them the bag.  They were thankful, and I was glowing.  Who could believe this story would have such a happy ending?

Why did this make me so happy?

For just a few minutes this morning, I got to live in a world that was just how I’d want it to be.  In that world, when you lose something, you get it back.  Complete strangers treat each other kindly and with respect.  Generosity is the norm.

And then I got to thinking about philanthropy and the warm feeling I had.  And it helped remind me that philanthropy is an act of giving, and not an asset allocation.

This may seem obvious, but all the talk about creating more efficient philanthropic marketplaces and increasing donor demands for objective data seems to miss this point:  that part of the reason people give is so that the world, for them, can be how they want it to be – at least for a little while.

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Why I’m making a donation to Dave Farmar

I’ve never met Dave Farmar, and he’s never met me.  He’s a yoga teacher in Denver who has a free podcast which, if you’ve got a strong yoga practice, I recommend highly.

Dave puts these podcasts out into the world, and I’m practical enough to understand that he does this both to be generous and as a way of raising his own visibility.  At the same time, Dave isn’t asking for anything in return for the 20-30 of his yoga classes of his that I’ve done in the last year, and that’s exactly why I feel like I should give a donation to him or to a charity he supports (and blogging about it is a great way to ensure that I follow through).

I spend a lot of time on this blog encouraging more generosity, and it occurs to me that part of this process has to be me cultivating my own generosity in tangible ways – big and small.

The trick here is the dreaded Free Rider problem.  It’s downright irrational to pay for things where you can get the benefit without paying the cost (the classic example is national defense or a clean environment; but you can free ride by not voting in a national election too).

How do we act when no one is looking AND where it makes sense – economically, rationally – to do nothing?

The same question came up today when I went with my family to the Museum of Natural History.  The teller told us that the price was $47, and he kept on saying, “But that’s just a suggested admission.  How much do you want to pay?”  In a situation like that, with the teller essentially saying, “Hey, most everyone pays a lot less than this,” it’s hard not to feel silly saying, “No, I’d rather pay the $47.”  And, in all candor, if it hadn’t been for my wife’s encouragement, I’m not sure I would have paid the full “suggested admission” of $47.  It felt like a lot of money, and the teller – who was trying to be nice – was encouraging me to take a pass and spend the money on something else.

(footnote: the museum was fabulous.  Definitely worth the $47.)

My point is not that I’m some paragon of generosity — it’s something I struggle with as much as anyone.  My point is that we’re all have to practice being more generous, especially in situations where it doesn’t make rational sense to do so.  Donate or not, I’ll continue to have access to Dave Farmer’s great yoga classes for free; the Museum of Natural History will get most of its funding from corporations and other major donors and doesn’t need my $47; and Barak Obama would have become President even if I hadn’t voted for him.

But if we don’t put our money where our mouth is — if we don’t step up and support things that are good and beautiful and hopeful in the world — we have no right to complain when we treated ungenerously in return.

And, increasingly, I believe that giving, generosity, kindness, forgiveness and hope are, first and foremost, acts of self-expression.  And, as we’ll see on January 20th, millions of small acts of self-expression can make historical change in the world.

Enjoy the innaguration.

Mind the Gap (Something for something)

A reader emailed me with information on this entry from the BusinessToolsBlog, Donate to Charity with Your Mouse, Not your Wallet.  You click on links and the charities get money.  The reader asked me if I agreed that this was a promising way for people to get involved in and support organizations they might not know about – specifically because  people could support charities without much effort, and over time this would introduce them to the idea of being more philanthropic.

I’m torn about this. On one hand, there’s an economic value in just about everything you do online, so if someone wants to take that value and transfer it to charitable organizations I think that’s a very good thing.  And there is the distant possibility that by coming across one of these sites, someone might learn about a new organization and get involved in a more significant way.

But I’m unconvinced that this will open many people up to giving and to supporting organizations with their time and energy.  To the contrary, I worry that this reinforces the notion that you can get something for nothing, that change can come without effort and sacrifice.

This is the same hesitation I feel about the Gap’s Inspi(RED) t-shirts and other products that make donations to worthy causes – happy that the money is going to the cause; hopeful that the act of buying the shirts (or the water or the cereal) is educating people about and motivating them to act to support the cause; but worried that we might delude ourselves into thinking that this is enough – worried that buying the “responsible” shirt acts as a salve on our sense of responsibility to others, and worried that when doing something “good” becomes a fashion statement, we can loose sight of the impact in favor of the fashion.

And, by the way, here’s what the NY Times reported last February about the RED campaign:

In its March 2007 issue, Advertising Age magazine reported that Red companies had collectively spent as much as $100 million in advertising and raised only $18 million. Officials of the campaign said then that the companies had spent $50 million on advertising and that the amount raised was $25 million. Advertising Age stood by its article.

You see how tricky this gets once you get into the details.

It strikes me that buying is one thing, giving is another.  As long as they are complementary we’re in good shape.

But I worry they might be substitutes.