re - spon - si - bil - i - ty (n.) a particular burden of obligation upon a person who is responsible.
What exactly is it that makes me bristle when I think of the definition of responsibility? I’m a relatively decent human being. I work for a living, pay my bills, often stay within posted speed limits, wash dishes when the sink screams at me, try hard to tread lightly on the planet, and aim to treat all life with respect. Generally speaking, I’m responsible. I don’t need to be told what to do. My irritation reminds me of a song by folksinger Dave Roth: "Don’t Should on Me and I Won’t Should on You."
I have been thinking, lately, about the responsibility of the wealthy to society and the environment. The common understanding is that the wealthy have a responsibility to help. But should the wealthy take the lead, by reason of their greater means? My litmus test for such value judgments is to slide virtually into the loafers of those whose viewpoint I’m trying to figure out.
The Test
Although I’m unable to have the contents of my change purse even remotely resemble that of the one percent of Americans whose adjusted gross income is more than $225,000 a year or who have a net worth of more than $3 million, I still can visualize myself as a rich gal. I have little doubt that I would donate chunks to environmental and social efforts. It’s something I do now with a modest income, and I think how very cool it would be to be in a position to really contribute some bucks.
But what if I were a rich person without that predisposition to give? How would I feel about a society that insisted, however politely, that it was my moral obligation — my unquestionable duty — to give away lots of money? Might I feel a bit as if my community were chasing me with a stick made of shoulds? I gather that I would be more easily persuaded by a carrot of encouragement, or of self-esteem, or of hope for the planet.
To take the pulse of others much more qualified to speak on matters of ethics, psychology, and philosophy than myself, I approached a consultant and representatives from two nonprofit organizations. I posed the very same two questions that I posed to myself when I began to think about this delicate topic: Do the wealthy have a responsibility to meeting societal and environmental needs? What role should they play?
Opinions from the Trenches
Andrew Mott, executive director for the Center for Community Change, in Washington, D.C., feels that the wealthy need to extend a hand in matters of communal change. "The income gap is growing rapidly," he points out, "and young people in poor families are being held back by inferior schools, the virtual elimination of job training programs, and the absence of career opportunities for people who lack a good education, computer, and job skills," says Mott.
"Wealthy people have both a moral duty and a direct self-interest in helping create a society that provides young people with good jobs and bright futures rather than with conditions which push them into lives of crime and violence."
Mott thinks that the wealthy can and should support society in a number of ways. They can provide significant contributions to low-income community organizations and other groups that challenge inadequate policies and conditions. And they can personally address issues of income, jobs, affordable housing, improved schools, and similar areas that especially affect the poor.
"Wealthy people should ensure that their own wealth is invested in companies and organizations that are doing what they can to improve opportunities for low-income people and minorities," says Mott. This, Mott believes, will help establish a society that is stable, just, and productive, and from which all people can benefit.
Dr. Dan Boland brings to the opinion table a background collage of experience as an author, psychologist, adult educator, and theologian. He’s an organizational consultant based in Laguna Beach, California, where he works with executives and law firms to assist them in constructing ethical organizational cultures. Boland strongly believes that the wealthy have a moral responsibility to the less fortunate, despite how unpopular it may be seem. "By‘less fortunate,’ I don’t mean those folks who make less than several million yearly. I mean those who are incapable of supporting themselves through no fault of their own," he explains.
"I don’t wish to espouse a radical socialist perspective nor do I wish to bolster a welfare state," says Boland. "But there are segments of the American population, such as the so-called Native Americans, whose social, educational, and vocational status is a direct historical result of antithetical political decisions which have resulted in economic enslavement. The not infrequent rush of some Native American tribes to gambling is almost a harsh parable of economic revenge in reverse: the essential toll by which the excessively wealthy can restore social and moral balance is education in its countless forms."
Boland says his beliefs about the role of the wealthy are based on his assessment that no human act is neutral. "As Dr. Jonas Salk wrote years ago, we all share the same air and breathe the same air. I would add that we all share the same human soul and spirit. We share the same moral space, so what I do — especially if I’m wealthy and therefore possess economic power — definitely affects the quality of your life."
Neil Carlson is director of Communications for the National Committee for Responsible Philanthropy based in Washington, D.C. He also believes the wealthy have a responsibility to society and the environment, "but not as noblesse oblige, which is how the question of philanthropy is often framed," he says. "As Martin Luther King Jr., once remarked,‘Philanthropy is no doubt commendable, but it must not cause the philanthropist to overlook the circumstances of economic injustice that make philanthropy necessary.’ The best philanthropy invests in change, not charity, by supporting groups and institutions working for social and economic justice."
Carlson, however, believes that all of us can be responsible — that all people have a part to play in regard to contributing to the less fortunate and as stewards of the environment. And he mentions the surprising fact that low-income individuals generally donate a larger percentage of their income yearly than the wealthy. "Groups like the Funding Exchange help donors locate and fund local grassroots social change organizations," says Carlson. "They’re the publishers of Robin Hood Was Right: A Guide to Giving Your Money for Social Change [by Chuck Collins, Pam Rogers, and Joan Garner], the best introduction to social change giving around."
Carlson has some specific suggestions. "The National Network of Grantmakers is a great resource for funding social change," he says. "For people with limited resources, workplace fundraising through alternative funds — environmental, community, or Black United Funds — are a great way to leverage resources."
What appears most clear to me in talking with the experts is that the shoulds and oughts are not so clearly marked. This doesn’t eliminate my "don’t-should-on-me" squeamishness. But it does include me in my own questions regarding responsibility and wealth. To illustrate just how thin the lines of right and wrong can actually be, let’s take a peek at the views of renowned philosopher Peter Singer, author of Animal Liberation, controversial ethicist, donator of a fifth of his salary to famine-relief organizations, and now a Princeton University professor.
Crossing the Lines
In "The Singer Solution to World Poverty" published in the September 1999 issue of The New York Times Magazine, Singer devoted much of his attention to paraphrasing and analyzing one of the hypothetical examples found in a book by New York University Philosophy Professor Peter Unger, Living High and Letting Die. The idea is to stimulate our "intuitions" regarding right or wrong, including the way in which Americans live a good life without providing significant money to folks who are sick, hungry, or on the verge of dying from treatable illnesses.
Highly condensed, the premise goes something like this. Bob is a gentleman who’s close to retirement. He owns a highly valuable auto that will afford him a very comfortable living once he sells it, but which he hasn’t insured yet. One day he parks his car close to a railway siding and decides to take a walk on the tracks.
Suddenly, he sees a runaway train with no passengers chugging down the tracks. As he looks down the track, he spots a kid who’s highly likely to be hit and killed by the runaway train. Bob can’t halt the train nor get to the kid in time to warn him. But he does have access to a switch that would change the train’s path.The new path would head straight for his car, which would be totaled. The man contemplates the options — and he chooses not to pull on the switch. The kid is killed and Bob gets years of enjoyment from the financial cushion his car has paid for.
While most of us would agree that the man’s actions were wrong, Singer points out to readers that they, too, have a chance to save kids’ lives by donating to anti-famine organizations. He writes that Unger has figured out that for about a $200 donation, a sickly kid of two would be able to be brought back to health through her sixth year, pulling her through the years most crucial to continued health. Unger has established that by calling Oxfam America (800-693-2687) or Unicef (800-367-5437), readers can pledge money to save the life of a child.
Singer then brings us back to his story: "Now you too, have the information you need to save a child’s life. How should you judge yourself if you don’t do it?"
And if you did call and make the $200 donation, can you go out with your significant other to celebrate your moral behavior with a fancy meal at a restaurant? Hang on, says Singer, the money you spend for haute cuisine could also help save the life of a child. A month of not dining out could amount to another $200, says Singer. How much of a sacrifice is that compared to saving a kid’s life?
Singer contends that in order to really make a sacrifice that’s somewhat on par with Bob had he chosen to sacrifice his car for the child, it would take closer to $200,000 for the majority of folks in middle-level income brackets. Ultimately, he says, "I can see no escape from the conclusion that each one of us with wealth surplus to his or her essential needs should be giving most of it to help people suffering from poverty so dire as to be life-threatening. That’s right: I’m saying that you shouldn’t buy that new car, take that cruise, redecorate the house, or get that pricy new suit. After all, a thousand-dollar suit could save five children’s lives."
Note that this formula puts the wealthy on a different plane. It makes them different from us only in quantity, not quality. Based on research by a not-for-profit research entity that identified that a $50,000 a year household spends approximately $30,000 on "necessities," that household’s donation to the poor should be close to $20,000 a year. Adds Singer, those with incomes of $100,000 should be able to write a check for $70,000.
"If it is the case that we ought to do things that, predictably, most of us won’t do, then let’s face that fact head-on," says Singer. "Then, if we value the life of a child more than going out to fancy restaurants, the next time we dine out we will know that we could have done something better with our money. If that makes living a morally decent life extremely arduous, well, then that is the way things are. If we don’t do it, then we should at least know that we are failing to live a morally decent life — not because it is good to wallow in guilt but because knowing where we should be going is the first step toward heading in that direction."
Overlapping Circles
I keep seeing train switches against a backdrop of a child’s face. Or the prospect of a gourmet meal against the visual of dark, bulging eyes attached to a skull framed by a covering of tightly wrapped skin passing for a human life. Yet it still seems to me that even those of us predisposed to sharing their good fortune would naturally respond better to morally rewarding stimuli.
There’s no question that all of us can do more — and the wealthy can do more than most. According to Slate magazine, the biggest sixty philanthropists donated $3.7 billion to non-profit entities in 1996. Education was by far the number one priority category; no significant monies went to environmental causes, international development and relief, religion, social services, or youth efforts. Yet the primary reason the wealthy want to donate is because they are interested in helping, according to a survey by the United States Trust Corporation in 1998. So there’s good internal kindling already being processed by those of means with big hearts.
Perhaps, when it comes to responsibility, the carrots come afterward. Perhaps we don’t really get to experience the obvious rewards until we shell out the dough. If I try real hard, I can find incentive in the reality that I can make a significant, concrete difference, if I really choose that path. So that question of responsibility is not really about what the wealthy should do, but rather about the motivation, inspiration, and incentive we can each kindle within ourselves — whether we’re wealthy or not.
Resources
Here are a few groups that are making a difference in the crusade for a more ethical philanthropic society:
National Committee for Responsible Philanthropy
Oxfam America, 800-693-2687
The Funding Exchange
Center for Community Change
National Network of Grantmakers
Changemakers
Dr. Daniel Boland, Ph.D., BolndParke@aol.com
Josephson Institute of Ethics
Center for the Study of Ethics in the Professions at the Illinois Institute of Technology
Center for Philanthropy, Indiana University
Unicef, 800-367-5437