Challenges face anyone setting out to write a comprehensive account of philanthropy. First, philanthropy is a so-called ‘contested concept’: its meaning isn’t stable across time, location or individual. Second, it’s not a traditional area of inquiry: there’s no standard reference or foundational literature. Third and relatedly, those who study or write about it typically do so as experts of not philanthropy itself, but rather using an entry point based on an era, methodological approach, jurisdiction, cultural context or policy issue. Establishing common ground needs to be part of the process.

Challenges underlie some of the book’s limitations: its undeveloped normative guideposts; its selective focus; and its need for a coordinative framework.

Given these challenges, Paul Vallely is to be commended for his book Philanthropy: From Aristotle to Zuckerberg, published in 2020 – its goal of comprehensiveness reflected by its clever title and 756-page length. The first eleven chapters proceed chronologically from antiquity to the 21^st century. The next seven address contemporary topics such as philanthropy’s role in international development, its celebrity endorsement, its political deployment and its effects on democracy. The final chapter is prescriptive, presenting a need and way to redeem philanthropy in its current state.

In some ways, the challenges noted above – the diverse meanings, open-ended field and specialist approaches – are allies of the book. They allow Vallely to cast a wide net, touching on a wide assortment of topics ranging from faith perspectives to political finance, utopian experiments to marketing techniques. This range ensures that every reader will be challenged by, intrigued with or informed about something in the book: responses evident in the laudatory dust-jacket comments from experts, all of whom the author cites and commends.

But in other ways, the same challenges underlie some of the book’s limitations: its undeveloped normative guideposts; its selective focus; and its need for a coordinative framework.

Normative guideposts

At the outset, Vallely refers to several definitions of philanthropy (e.g., ‘private initiatives for the public good’) but settles on none, explaining that all “are impoverished and in need of enrichment.” Yet starting with a definition, particularly of a contested concept, is important not simply to clarify the boundaries of one’s inquiry, but to determine and develop the normative criteria one will use to evaluate the phenomenon at hand (e.g., what constitutes ‘the public good’?) and to demonstrate the sources and remedies of its alleged ‘impoverishment’ – Vallely’s chosen assignment.

Standard ethical theory would group such criteria according to the consequences of philanthropy (consequentialism), the duties or obligations of practicing it (deontology), or the personal qualities and intentions of the philanthropist (virtue ethics). Sure enough, aspects of these considerations surface throughout the book. But only near the end does Vallely explicitly, albeit briefly, refer to consequentialism, and then implicitly refer to contending deontological factors.

Vallely wonders if philanthropy can “recover its lost soul,” and thereby return to the qualities it possessed in pre-Reformation Christendom, where rich and poor were “encompassed in a community of love.” Photo of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital in pre-Reformation England courtesy of the Wellcome Library (London) and Creative Commons.

Rather than frame and apply such well-known criteria, Vallely introduces various dualisms (e.g., ‘altruism’ vs ‘egoism’; ‘love of humanity’ vs ‘love of honor’; ‘empathy’ vs ‘effectiveness’; focus on ‘people’ vs focus on ‘product’; ‘heart’ vs ‘head’). Of these, he attributes the second half to philanthropy in its current state, and calls for more of the first half – to the end that philanthropy can “recover its lost soul,” become not simply strategic in pursuing results but reciprocal in strengthening the social relationships between givers and receivers, and thereby return to the qualities it possessed in pre-Reformation Christendom where rich and poor were “encompassed in a community of love.”

There are problems with building an argument by categorically attributing descriptors that are evocative but nevertheless imprecise and indemonstrable. Vallely alludes to some of these (e.g., philanthropy is complex, and the dualisms can operate simultaneously and variously), but doesn’t acknowledge how such problems undermine his case.

Vallely focuses his criticism of philanthropy in its current state to what he sees as its naïve reliance both on data to measure outcomes, and on self-centred, top-down decision-making that ignores the grassroots knowledge of both grantees and the communities they serve. Others have leveled similar charges, some of whom Vallely cites. However, he overlooks that such criticisms now come from the ‘strategic’ camp he targets, and that the discussion there has moved to the benefits of sharing and shifting power between donors and donees (e.g., ; ; ). Such collaboration is seen as intrinsically important, say in countering the effects of colonization or racialization. But it’s also seen as instrumentally important, say in managing complex projects that require ongoing consultation and course correction, or in increasing the likelihood that terminal projects could generate enduring change by enabling grantees and their communities to apply their own assets of skill, knowledge and networks.

Admittedly, the sharing of power is difficult, but it’s happening (). The conversion of philanthropy that Vallely calls for – one that fosters stronger trusting relationships between givers and receivers – is operative in part because of the strategic pursuit of ‘effectiveness’ and ‘product’ that ironically he perceives as a stumbling block.

Vallely offers something for everyone, starting with Aristotle 2400 years ago. Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons.

Selective focus

Vallely initially intended to write about philanthropy in England, but then realized such “a narrow national focus made no sense.” He widened that focus to add, in effect, one other country: the United States (chapters 7 to 18 deal almost exclusively with those two jurisdictions). His study isn’t so much about philanthropy as it’s about philanthropists – specifically, the very rich or well-positioned ones. Moreover, in considering the links between philanthropy and religious practice, he only refers to the Abrahamic faiths (i.e., Judaism, Christianity and Islam) and humanism, ignoring altogether any Eastern traditions (e.g., Buddhism, Hinduism or Sikhism). Thus contrary to the book’s title, length and dust-jacket endorsements – it’s neither comprehensive nor definitive. But to be fair, and as noted above, writing such a book would be a tall order.

Coordinative framework

Vallely’s book features remarkable personalities: early activists and social entrepreneurs; reformers and robber barons; entertainers and political players; eccentrics and IT billionaires; and plenty more. Photo of Mark Zuckerberg courtesy WikiMedia.

As noted, Vallely offers something for everyone. To a large extent, he ensures this by featuring remarkable personalities, from Aristotle to Zuckerberg, with many in between: early activists and social entrepreneurs; reformers and robber barons; entertainers and political players; eccentrics and IT billionaires; and plenty more. Alongside such personalities, he raises or touches on many of the questions and concerns that have become prominent over the past decade. Is philanthropy plutocratic? Which purposes or activities should remain within the purview of governments? Should philanthropists be accountable?

Vallely’s narrative is engaging and multifaceted. It’s an entertaining read. But amid so many trees, one loses sight of the forest – or even the confidence that a forest exists. At the outset, he claims that philanthropy is impoverished and in need of recovering its lost soul. And he returns to this in the final chapter. But how or whether the intervening material supports that claim is left largely to the reader’s imagination. Is it because philanthropy is ultimately a personal and very human phenomenon, subject to the foibles of those with the inclination and means to perform it – such that the enrichment and redemption of philanthropy ultimately requires the redemption of the philanthropists themselves? In other words, is it a matter of virtue ethics as devised by Aristotle? If so, then perhaps the book should be re-framed and re-named: Philanthropic Advice: From Aristotle to Zuckerberg.

This review is an abbreviated version of a forthcoming review in Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly. Calum Carmichael is an Associate Professor in ĐÓ°ÉÔ­´´â€™s MPNL program and an editor of PANL Perspectives.

Look around: a global pandemic; precarious economies; growing disparity between haves and have-nots; systemic racism; violence against Black and Indigenous people; the opioid crisis; the homeless crisis; the devastating effects of climate change; the fragility of democratic institutions.

By any measure, our house is on fire. Amid the flames, what’s a philanthropic foundation to do?

“Consequentialism” ties the moral worth of decisions or actions to their outcomes; better philanthropy comes from better results. OTF’s granting strategy about results is a good example of a consequentialist ethical framework.

For decades, the debated how best to build healthier and vibrant communities. An agency of the Ontario government, OTF receives about $100 million each year for grants that go to organizations in four areas: sports and recreation, arts and culture, the environment, and human and social services.

The question is, should the OTF issue grants broadly (to a wide range of organizations with diverse community benefits) or deeply (to fewer organizations with a more focused impact)? Responding to applicants, stakeholders, and most notably the , OTF decided on the latter, the more focused route.

In 2015, OTF launched its new granting strategy, which narrowed its focus and clarified its desired outcomes. This change was collaborative, involving a cross-province consultation with stakeholders. And it included input from a team of staff experts who worked with the to identify the indicators that became the OTF’s north star—the domains that would define the “healthy and vibrant communities” part of its mission. From there, OTF developed a set of measurable grant outcomes that would create long-term results and a theory of change that linked each grant to shared outcomes that led to a collective result: healthier and vibrant communities.

What can other foundations take from this experience?

Two things. First, pursue strategic clarity and grant-making for results. Second: avoid hubris.

Pursue clarity and results

To ensure the effectiveness of your dollars, I strongly advise developing a strategy that identifies your intended impact, understands the reasons you support the initiatives you do, learns from successes and failures, and that course corrects as needed.

• Identify the “big goal” or north star. What is the change you wish to see?
• Articulate a clear theory of change. How will you set about to achieve the big goal? For example, “if we want to achieve x, we need to move on a, b, and c, which are three results we can achieve if we fund d, e, and f.”
• Learn what others are doing to create these results; identify where your philanthropy fits with the work of others, both funding partners and people on the ground.
• Identify where you’ll focus your efforts—the populations, geographies and outcomes involved—and be okay with not doing everything.
• Be clear on how to measure success, or at least what sign-posts will indicate you’re moving in the right direction.

Avoid hubris: Learn and collaborate

• Embrace an experimental approach, and continuous, intentional learning.
• Accept unpredictability but maintain a line of sight to the big goal
• Rely on the expertise of sector partners doing the work and affected by the area of focus (see #philanthropysowhite).
• Develop the impact measurement and/or evaluation strategy early and in partnership with those people affected by your area of focus.
• Create feedback loops to check for heuristics and biases.
• Think beyond the grant. As of the Centre for Effective Philanthropy has said, “If money could solve a problem, it already would have.”

Articulating your giving strategy and developing a theory of change may seem trivial compared to the urgency of a house on fire. Inevitably, though, any philanthropic intervention involves hard choices. Identifying long-term results, based on evidence and partnerships, makes those funding choices deliberate, explicit and more effective.

supports non-profit and charitable-sector organizations to develop strategic clarity and effective learning, and to better measure and tell the story of their impact. His experience includes 17 years at the Ontario Trillium Foundation, where he played a key role in designing, implementing and measuring the impact of their 2015 investment strategy. Wilson is on .

Years ago, a board member committed an ethical breach at an organization where I worked. It was a tough situation, as I was just starting out and didn’t have a lot of experience. Eventually, I took action – and all hell broke lose. In short, I got fired, the only time in my 30-year career that’s happened.

The search for “easy” answers to ethical problems is challenging and complex. Ethical codes and standards of practice are hallmarks of any profession, but they can also be as clear as mud. What’s legal isn’t always ethical. What’s moral isn’t necessarily legal. And what’s right isn’t necessarily discernible. This is true in the philanthropic fundraising profession as well.

The , arguably the world’s largest and most influential umbrella organization, offers a few answers. The AFP was established in 1960, and one of its founding objectives was to foster ethical fundraising as a means of building the public trust on which philanthropy rests. The was developed in 1965 and remains a core element of the profession. In 2006, the Code served as catalyst for the , now recognized in 24 countries.

Although the Code covers a range of situations, by far the most frequent relate to seven areas: tainted money; compensation; privacy; appearance of impropriety; stewardship; honesty; and transparency or conflicts of interest. The Code’s guidelines and enforcement procedures are aspirational in their goal of fostering public trust in these and other areas, but is there a straight line between adherence to the Code and greater giving, let alone better giving?

One can infer such a relationship in Canada from the growth of AFP membership, the parallel growth of giving, and the confidence that Canadians have in the charitable sector. Consider the following:

• There are more than 27,000 AFP members in 54 countries, every one of whom annually pledges adherence to the Code.
• Since 1995, AFP Canada has grown from 217 to 3,300 members, and donors have become more strategic and informed about their giving — and as any fundraiser will tell you, donors ask tough questions.
• Canadians are generous, as noted in a report by Imagine Canada: between 1985 and 2018, total donations claimed by tax filers increased by more than 150% in real terms, to $9.9 billion, and Canada ranks third in the world in individual giving and second in the size of its charitable and nonprofit sector.
• AFP’s bi-annual survey of donors, , reports that 78% of Canadians say they’re very or somewhat confident in the sector. And the sector garners more confidence than either the private sector (at 67%) or the public sector (at 60%).

These statistics are compelling, but they don’t tell the whole story. After more than 30 years of experience, I know there’s a strong link between ethical practice, public trust and philanthropic giving: ethics and ethical codes have strengthened these links, and will continue to do so. In the end, ethics is mainly about the trust that the public places in us and on the charitable work we do.

is known internationally for her passionate belief in philanthropy and the value of the nonprofit sector in Canadian society. She co-founded , a fundraising and nonprofit leadership development firm. Also, McManus was the first person outside of the US to be Chair of the International Board of the , in 2011-12. McManus is on , as well as and .