Letting go of my gift

A few weeks ago I emailed a Pakistani colleague to ask for her advice about which organization – among those recommended by Acumen Fund – to give to for flood relief.

While looking at the recommended organizations, I found myself thinking about all the things one thinks about in these situations: how much of the money will go directly to help people? How credible and well-managed is the organization?  What kind of difference will this make in people’s lives?

All normal questions, though in some way they felt absurd upon further reflection.  I gave what I could give because of the tragedy that these floods represent, because of the tens of millions of people whose lives have been uprooted and whose homes and livelihoods have been destroyed.  I gave as an act of solidarity, as a too-small act of expression of my shared humanity with those who are suffering.

But the actual gift – its monetary value – in the context of everything, is tiny, is miniscule, is quite literally a drop in the bucket.  It’s like casting a vote in an election – something totally irrational in terms of my ability to affect an outcome, but something that is fundamental as an expression of my rights as a citizen, an act in support of democracy, and a statement of my values.

In this way, the act of giving is an act of self-expression, a statement of my values and obligations as a citizen of the world, and, perhaps most importantly, an act of generosity.  And generosity is act that expects nothing in return.

This made me wonder again what was going on when I was pondering the potential efficacy of my gift.  Was I, in some way, unable fully to let go of the notion that “this is my money that I worked hard to earn, and I’m only parting with it in exchange for something tangible that I’m getting” (in this case for someone else).

This may be where I – where we – get tripped up.  The thing that we’re used to doing, that we’ve been trained to do, is to buy stuff. We part with money and in exchange we get……  whatever it is that we get.

Maybe philanthropy is something completely different, maybe it’s a sheep in wolf’s clothing: an act of self-expression disguised as a transaction.  In which case we’ve got the order all wrong – we cannot first go through all the learned calculations of what-am-I-getting-for-my-money but instead have to start with ourselves, who we are, and who we want to be.

I worry that in our pursuit of better, smarter philanthropy, we run the risk of trading in soft-heartedness for hard-headedness, and in so doing everyone ends up coming up short – because this is a false choice, one we don’t have to make.  Of course we want money to go the furthest, we want to support the best organizations, we want to make change.  But the “we” in the equation matters a lot.  We, people who give (and people who ask others to give), are affected by our own actions.  We are also striving to be the best version of ourselves.  And we, in the act of giving (the way we approach it, the reasons for our actions, the way we let these actions change us) have a chance to take another step towards becoming the person we hope to be.

A dollar fell out of my pocket today

A dollar fell out of my pocket today

while I was riding the subway.

A passenger tapped me and pointed to the folded bill

on the ground.

Meanwhile a homeless man was asking the car for money.

I looked at the dollar and realized it wasn’t my dollar.

So I handed it to the homeless man.

And I was left wondering.

Is it ever my dollar?

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Abundance

Here’s something I hear all too often: “Oh, we can’t ask her to donate (buy) to this new project (product), she already gives (buys) so much.”

Which way does the value flow again?

Remember, remember, remember, people don’t give (buy) and get nothing in return. They didn’t give because they were temporarily hoodwinked, cajoled, tricked, or otherwise pushed unaware over some invisible line. They gave to accomplish something, to express something, to be more of the person they want to be.  And that’s true whether they give $50 or $50 million.

OK, so that’s easy to say and it sounds so sensible.

But if it’s sensible then the right thing to say when you’re creating something new, something exciting, something powerful, is, “Wow we’d better make sure we take this idea to the people who are our biggest supporters.  They’d be so bummed if they missed out on this opportunity.”

There’s a world of difference between “Please would you give to this?” and “This idea is so exciting, you don’t want to miss out on it.”  A bigger difference still when “you don’t want to miss out” is so real, is something you feel in your bones, because then it’s true and you and the person you’re talking to feel and know that truth.

And yes, this is just as true when you’re selling a project, selling a gig, selling a software solution as it is in philanthropy.

The conversation you want to have, the conversation you can have right now, starts with, “Imagine this amazing, exciting thing.  Wouldn’t it be cool if we could make this happen together?”

Not a zero sum game.  Abundance.

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The gift you give

There are two reasons I’ve been thinking and writing about generosity: first, I know I’ll be happier the more generous I am, so I’m practicing.  Second, by experiencing the rewards of my own generosity, I will be able to translate something I KNOW into something I FEEL.

Let me explain.

Most people don’t feel comfortable asking other people for donations to causes they believe in.  I’ve been told often, even by people who give a lot, that there’s deep discomfort in “hitting up my friends,” and I’ve witnessed fabulous nonprofit professionals who commit their lives to a cause, yet who somehow cannot bring themselves to stand in front of someone and ask them to fund the cause in which they so deeply believe.  And even fundraisers box themselves in to comfort levels of what kind and size of donations they’ve decided they can ask for.

So here’s the thought experiment: yesterday I wrote about the $20 I gave to a guy who asked for money on the subway.  And what I experienced was that I came out ahead.  Personally, I got more out of giving than the $20 I gave away.

Of course this makes sense.  Whenever anyone gives a donation, they are coming out ahead.  They are deciding freely to give the money away, which means that they are getting something of more personal value than the money they are giving away.  And the kicker is that it doesn’t matter if the person is giving a gift of $20 or $2,000 or $20,000,000.

What that value is will vary for every person – it could be the economic value their gift is creating through lost suffering and economic hardship; the moral value of righting an injustice; the social value of putting one’s name on a plaque or a list or on the side of a building; the psychic value of helping someone (the donor) become the person she wants to be.

Intellectually, I get it and you get it.  But until we all feel it in our gut, we hold ourselves back.  Until we feel it our gut, we believe on some quiet level that the playing field is unbalanced, that the person doing the giving is in one way or another on higher ground than the person doing the asking.

By making a practice of your own generosity, you have a chance to remind yourself: they are the ones getting the deal; you are the one giving the gift.

You are the one who has something special, something precious, that you are offering up to them at a bargain price.

Truly.

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Giving is as fun as sex

Apparently it’s true. From Nick Kristoff’s recent op-Ed:

Brain scans by neuroscientists confirm that altruism carries its own rewards. A team including Dr. Jorge Moll of the National Institutes of Health found that when a research subject was encouraged to think of giving money to a charity, parts of the brain lit up that are normally associated with selfish pleasures like eating or sex.

A young colleague of mine set out over the weekend to raise money to support Haiti.  She and a small group of friends walked the length of Manhattan (15 miles) with the goal of raising $500.  So far they’ve raised $7,500 and counting.

Why has she raised more than 15 times her goal?  It’s because her “ask” (“sponsor my walk in support of Haiti”) was really two gifts to her friends and network, since they:

  1. Are looking for a way meaningfully to support those affected in Haiti
  2. Appreciate and want to support her personally, for the work that she does and the person that she is.

One of the most powerful things you can do is to reframe what it means to ask someone to give, to remember that as much as they are supporting you, that you are giving them a gift.  You are providing them with a solution.  Better yet, you may be helping them become the person they want to be.

And, hey, it may just be as fun as sex.

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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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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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Kiva Customers Don’t Receive the Loans you Give

If I wanted to get your attention, that’s the headline I’d write.  Strictly speaking, it’s true.  And when you only have a minute to grab someone’s attention, isn’t it your job to grab their attention?

That in essence is what’s at the core of the conversation that’s swelled up over the last two weeks about Kiva.  David Roodman’s “Kiva Is Not Quite What It Seems” post kicked things off; Tim Ogden took things further in his post on the Philanthropy Action blog, and Sean Stannard-Stockton provided the definitive summary of the conversation, with his take on it, on the Tactical Philanthropy blog in a post titled “Is Kiva Misleading the Publc?

Here’s the low-down: you can log on to Kiva, find a microfinance client in the developing world who needs a loan, and fund that person.  The catch is that that person has already received their loan.   In fact all the clients on the Kiva website have already received their loans.  The microfinance organizations that gets money from Kiva does receive those funds, but the funds don’t go to that individual client.   The GiveWell blog provides the picture that’s worth a thousand words by showing what the Kiva donor is told (graphically) and what the microfinance organization is told.

The thing is, what Kiva’s doing is nothing new.  Heifer International raises tens of millions of dollars a year by sending out millions of catalogs that are every bit as sophisticated as the LL Bean or J Crew catalogs, only instead of buying rugby shirts you buy a chicken or a cow for a family in the developing world.  But you’re not really buying that chicken or that cow.  On the bottom of every page for every cow or chicken or trio of rabbits you “give” to someone, there’s a small-print disclaimer:

Gifts made through this catalog represent a gift to the entire mission. To help the most number of families move toward self-reliance, Heifer does not use its limited resources to track gift animals from donation to distribution. We use your gifts where they can do the most good by pooling them with the gifts of others to help transform entire communities. And, because you are helping Heifer fight hunger and poverty, your gift is tax deductible.

So the gift of a cow isn’t buying a cow, just like the Kiva loan isn’t going to that actual Kiva borrower.

Before we get on our philanthropic high horse, let’s be clear about what is and isn’t true here.  To keep it as simple as possible, imagine you run a nonprofit that provides food aid to people struck by natural disaster.  The simplest story goes:

  1. People are suffering as a result of this natural disaster
  2. One can buy food for one person who is hungry for one week for $10
  3. We’re in the business of buying this food
  4. So give us $10 and we’ll buy the food.

And when you’re writing a catchy headline to get a high open rate for your emails, you’ll lead with “A $10 gift will buy someone food for a week.”  This is, strictly speaking, true.

So the question here isn’t really about truth, it’s about how big a sin of omission each nonprofit can and should commit as they play this game.  Is it the responsibility of the nonprofit sector and donors alike to break down the myth that each gift does or doesn’t buy a specific thing?  And will those who take the high road ever win out in the marketplace of ideas?  It’s an empirical fact that people give more to help one person than to help many (check out this excerpt from Made to Stick for the startling experimental data), and this is wired deep into our brains, it’s not something that was created by the nonprofit sector.

Which is why I think Nathanial Whitttemore has it right when he says that this “problem” is here to stay, namely that nonprofits will, by and large, tell almost-truths to their donors – focusing on a specific connection between their dollars and a given outcome – and that a major shift for the majority of the giving population won’t happen any time soon (if ever), even though as professionals our aspiration might be to change the narrative to investing in nonprofit organizations, as Sean suggests.  It’s a good aspiration, and we should keep at it, but it will never be the bread and butter for most nonprofits or for most donors.

It is true that philanthropists who makes major giving decisions and give considerable time and energy to these decisions have the opportunity to break this cycle; and the supporting infrastructure of philanthropic advising has an opportunity to push this conversation forward, aided by nonprofits who are willing and able to tell a different story.  But let’s not pretend that we will someday divide the world into two, with the masses being duped into emotional decisions that get them to dig into their wallets while major donors dig in deep analytically and primarily make educated, highly rational, institutional-building investments.  If it doesn’t happen in the stock market, why will it happen here?

All givers are essentially the same, essentially human, making rational and emotional decision based on the information they have and the amount of time they have to give to their giving decisions.  The emotional connection is the starting (and often ending) point for everyone, and what matters is the ability of every individual donor (whether they give $20 or $20 million) to insert themselves into the narrative of a particular nonprofit organization, the problem they’re addressing, and the role that the philanthropist and their gift have in addressing that problem.

The “your money buys this” message isn’t going anywhere soon. If anything, what Kiva and Charity:Water and DonorsChoose have shown is that there’s a way to take this approach and adapt it to 21st century tools – so that you can see an online photo of the microloan recipient or the well that was dug or the classroom that was helped — if not directly by your money, at least by that same amount of money as the amount you gave.  It’s interesting that making this association more visible and tangible is calling into question the veracity of these claims (no one’s writing about Heifer, right?), when in fact all Kiva et al are doing is strengthening a tried-and-true narrative.  The mechanics of gift -> organization -> recipient haven’t changed one bit.

If you think about it, it’s nearly impossible to change these mechanics and run an efficient, global nonprofit.  So why are we all acting so surprised?

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The only guy I met

The other day I took about eight boxes of books and clothes to the Salvation Army, part of a (meant to be) biannual, you-ever-going-to-wear-this-again? ritual that I talked about here.

I have to admit, there’s so much inertia around getting this done that when I get enough momentum to go through my closet, pack up clothes, and get out of the house, I don’t stop to ask whether the Salvation Army or Goodwill or anywhere else is the most efficient place to give things away.  I just assume that stuff that I drop off at the local Salvation Army eventually ends up in the hands of the people who need it.  Trust in a brand, through and through.

My local Salvation Army is an ominous, somewhat murky place: a giant, brick, 1930s warehouse with a single door leading to a small room with one small desk.  The only other door opens to a giant room filled with trash bags of dropped-off, donated stuff.

The giant room is enough to raise some questions: how long do these clothes sit here?  Do they end up in the right hands?

I should find out more, to be sure.  But I haven’t and I don’t, yet I still end up feeling like things are going to be OK.  Here’s why:  the guy who mans that tiny front desk where I drop off the clothes is such an obviously compassionate, serious, considered person – and this comes across so readily in even a short interaction with him – that I’m left with a sense of confidence.

Specifically, I think, “if he’s here manning this ship, then he’s made a decision based on a lot more information than I’ll be able to get easily”  Barring my own opportunity to really dig in and learn more, I’m going to trust this decision of his as proxy for my own due diligence.

To me, on this day, this guy was the whole story.  He was the only guy I met, and he is the Salvation Army to me, just like the Zappo’s Customer Loyalty Team is Zappos to their customers (and if you haven’t seen this New Yorker article on Zappos, it’s worth the read).  In fact, Zappo’s CEO Tony Hsieh doesn’t even care much about shoes, he cares about culture and about the consumer’s experience.

If this is right – if for most of the people most of the time, their experience of the organization is about the one person they meet – tell me again, what’s the desired profile of people who serve on the front lines in your organization (your delivery people, your teachers, your CSR reps, your repairmen and women, your fundraisers)? How important are these roles?  What’s their status within your organization?

Is there a single reason why you’d want these folks to be anything other than  your best, brightest, blow-me-out-of-the-water, if-you-work-here-it-must-be-great, people?

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