In the twenty-first century the idea of âphilanthropyâ and the word âphilanthropistâ typically bring to mind images of rich white men, who either inherited their fortune or made it in a business such as finance or information technology. They are unlikely to be associated with a diminutive female country music icon from a âdirt poorâ background. Yet Dolly Partonâs philanthropy made headlines across the world in late 2020 when her $1 million donation helped fund the development of the Moderna vaccine, one of the early viable solutions to the global Covid-19 pandemic that turned the world upside down in 2020. How did the talent behind songs such as âJoleneâ and â9 to 5â come to play a role in funding a pivotal epidemiological breakthrough? As this book explains, most philanthropy starts with a personal connection, an autobiographical stroke of fate â for better or worse â that, given the right combination of generosity, sympathetic stewardship by the recipient organization and cultural approval by wider society, results in private actions that promote the public good. The serendipitous incident in this case was a minor car crash in Nashville in 2013 which led Parton to check into the Vanderbilt University Medical Center where she met physician Dr Naji Abumrad. Despite knowing nothing about each otherâs careers, the two clicked and enjoyed talking about current affairs and science. When Dr Abumrad, who works at the universityâs Institute for Infection, Immunology and Inflammation later told Parton that his lab was making âexciting advancesâ in the early stages of the search for a cure for Covid-19, the million dollar gift was made to honour her friend and, in Partonâs words, âto helpâ and âdo goodâ. This research eventually received nearly $1 billion in federal funding and was the second potential vaccine to demonstrate high levels of efficacy. Reflecting on the impact of Partonâs donation, Dr Abumrad said: âHer work made it possible to expedite the science behind the testing. Without a doubt in my mind, her funding made the research toward the vaccine go ten times faster than it would be without itâ (quoted in Bella 2020).
Parton described feeling âvery honoured and proudâ to have given money to research into one of the most promising Covid-19 vaccines, noting the collaborative nature of the success: âIâm sure many millions of dollars from many people went into that [research fund] but I felt so proud to have been part of that little seed money that will hopefully grow into something great and help to heal this worldâ (quoted in Snapes 2020). Parton is correct that big gifts from noted individuals like herself are typically joined by many smaller amounts from a mass of anonymous individuals, with the combined value of the latter far outweighing the total value of major donations. The word âphilanthropyâ may bring to mind famous names and faces such as Andrew Carnegie or Bill Gates but it is not, and never has been, the preserve of the rich.
âPhilanthropyâ is a tricky word to pronounce and even trickier to define, but broadly means the practice of private, voluntary efforts to help unknown others and to benefit wider society. Its provenance is simple enough â âphiloâ meaning âlove ofâ and âanthroposâ meaning âhumankindâ â but there is nothing straightforward about how it is understood, practised, interpreted and discussed. Philanthropy has been in existence for at least 2,500 years and continues to be a common feature in many societies today. It is a dynamic concept and practice that varies over time and place in terms of who gives, the amounts given, the methods of giving and the chosen causes. Despite being a complex, contested, diversified and ideologically loaded concept, it often only hits the public radar in an anaemic form that is stripped of complexity and nuance, and packaged in a way that reflects dominant preconceptions about wealth, celebrity and big money.
The story of Dolly Parton and the Covid-19 vaccine has everything that mass and social media could hope for: a quirky, topical story involving a famous person and a large sum of money. In many ways it was a typical radar-hitting example of philanthropy making it into the headlines. But the story behind how the gift came about, Partonâs obvious delight at its impact and her acknowledgement of the role of other donors and the recipient scientists who did âsomething greatâ with the money, means it also offers a broader insight into the role and nature of philanthropy in contemporary society: the importance of social networks connecting those who have money with those who can put that money to good use, a desire to express gratitude for help received, an exciting opportunity and an aspiration to make something good happen.
Partonâs donation grew from her friendship with Dr Abumrad, boosted the recipient scientists, leveraged broader support and potentially helped end a lethal pandemic. This is philanthropy in action: whatâs not to like about it? Plenty, as this book explains and discusses in detail.
Before explaining and illustrating the problematizing of philanthropy and its consequences for encouraging generosity, this chapter is focused on explaining what philanthropy is, why the philanthropically funded sector exists and how it differs from the purpose and functioning of the other two main sectors in society: government and business. Philanthropy is shown to be a complex and contested phenomenon that needs to be understood in context, often causes confusion, yet is crucial for both individual and societal welfare. We begin with three examples that help illustrate the varied historical and contemporary roles of philanthropy.
The roles and impacts of philanthropy across time
Bert, the chimney sweep friend of Mary Poppins, was brought to life on the big screen by Dick Van Dyke who portrayed him as having a chirpy âchim chim cher-eeâ life, in the words of the Oscar-winning song. Yet âgrim child miseryâ would have been a more accurate lyric, as the sweeping of chimneys was filthy, painful, life-limiting and life-threatening work undertaken by children as young as four. For four centuries this form of child labour was not just tolerated but positively encouraged by government, which shifted the burden of care for orphans and children living in workhouses by apprenticing them to adult sweeps. Tiny, half naked children were forced to climb into narrow, hot flues where they often got stuck in the cramped spaces, were suffocated by falling soot and died in situ. The survivors experienced stunted growth, deformed spines and limbs, burns, loss of sight, respiratory disease and chimney sweepsâ carcinoma, the first identified occupational cancer which was caused by soot irritating the childâs skin. This abuse was finally ended in 1875 when the Chimney Sweepers Act was passed after decades of effort by the philanthropically funded Society for Superseding the Necessity of Climbing Boys, founded in 1803 with funding from an anonymous donor who paid for campaigning, private inspectors to observe sweeps in action, and also a ÂŁ200 prize for the inventor of the best sweeping machine to demonstrate that the practice was unnecessary as well as inhumane (Gray 1908: 11â12; Davies 2015: 93â4).
Nearly 150 years later, in 2018, the grand opening of a new car park providing over 1,000 free parking spaces for staff, patients and visitors took place at the Aberdeen Royal Infirmary. The full cost of ÂŁ10.7 million was covered by local businessman Sir Ian Wood. This gift was prompted by his wife, Lady Helen (after whom the car park is named), whose friends and relatives had told her of their anxiety and distress at being unable to find parking when attending appointments or visiting loved ones. Success in easing stress was confirmed by a woman visiting a relative who explained, âWords canât do justice to what it means to have one less thing to worry about when making hospital visits. A car park may not be the most auspicious of buildings but in terms of fulfilling a daily, hourly need, it is second to noneâ (Wood Foundation 2019).
The first statue in the UK to memorialize a named black woman, Mary Seacole, was erected in London in 2016 on the banks of the Thames directly opposite the House of Commons. The cost of commissioning and installing the work honouring the Jamaican-born Crimean War nurse who cared for British soldiers, was covered by a campaign that raised ÂŁ500,000, including contributions from rich individuals and corporations. Eminent health practitioner and campaigner Professor Dame Elizabeth Anionwu reflected on
The ending of child chimney sweeps, a new car park for a Scottish hospital and a historic statue that has renewed resonance in the time of the Black Lives Matter movement are three very different examples, illustrating the diversity of motivations, acts and outcomes that are collectively classified as âphilanthropyâ. Philanthropy is ubiquitous and universal but it is not uniform (Payton & Moody 2008). It is not easy to pin down because it is a dynamic, contextual concept that changes across time and place, and because different people can have quite different views on what philanthropy can and should do.
For example, from our twenty-first-century perspective, the philanthropic achievement of helping to end child labour in the chimney sweep trade appears inadequate because the material and emotional needs of the orphans and workhouse children, such as safe housing, an education and supportive family life, were still unlikely to be met. In Scotland today, alongside those who are pleased about the new, free hospital car park there will be others who do not agree that rich oil tycoons should have anything to do with funding and building facilities connected to the National Health Service. And the appearance of one statue in London of a named black woman will be welcomed by some and interpreted by others as an inadequate response that risks giving the appearance of change while leaving institutionalized racism intact.
These three examples highlight that philanthropy is a product of its time, is shaped by existing arrangements within wider society and is appraised through the eye of the beholder. In short, there is no straightforward, objective answer to the question âwhat is philanthropy?â, rather there are multiple, changing, competing subjective opinions on its role and purpose.
The ongoing contested terrain of philanthropy
Whatever examples of philanthropic actions had been chosen to open this chapter, there would be legitimate views offering different perspectives and opinions on the rights and wrongs of those actions. To take three more examples:
â˘Food banks are supported by those who feel compelled to help neighbours that are struggling to feed their families, and criticized by those who believe that they normalize and exacerbate food poverty by deflecting the need for structural change in terms of austerity and welfare policies (Garthwaite 2016).
â˘Granting wishes to terminally ill children, such as visits to Disneyland or meeting their favourite celebrity, is supported by those who believe it brings joy and hope to the child and their family, and is attacked by others who believe it is wasteful because the same amount of money could pay for cheap life-saving interventions in poorer countries (Singer 2015: 6).
â˘Philanthropic funding of cultural activities such as excellence in, and access to, the arts, literature, theatre and film, strikes some people as an elitist diversion from more worthy causes while others claim that a decent human life requires access to cultural goods (Pevnick 2016).
To briefly mention three more examples of the highly contested terrain inhabited by philanthropy: both pro-choice and pro-life advocates benefit from philanthropic support for their positions, as do those in favour and against hunting live animals, and those promoting religiosity and secularism. It would be possible to fill this entire book with examples of how one personâs idea of a gift is viewed by another as poisonous. This is perhaps less surprising when we learn that the Greek and Old Germanic roots of the word âgiftâ refer to poison (Smith 2006: 15). Such differences in viewpoints are not resolvable by analysing empirical evidence or by recourse to philosophical reasoning, because these are ultimately ideological and personally held positions.
We might think we know what we â and everyone else â are talking about when we say the word âphilanthropyâ but our contemporary vocabulary struggles to accommodate the understandings and assumptions of those who practised and wrote about philanthropy in the past (Sulek 2010a, 2010b), as well as those who emphasize how it manifests differently around the world today. For example, the contemporary role of philanthropy in relation to funding health, education and welfare services clearly differs between countries that have advanced welfare states and those that do not.
We can try to guard against the straw man arguments that frequently recur in discussions of philanthropy by resisting the temptation to define philanthropy in a way that suggests it has a constant, agreed-upon character and objective, and by paying more attention to the history of philanthropy, which underlines both consistent themes in relation to the mixed motivation of donors and the dual benefits created for benefactors and beneficiaries, and how it develops over time as a result of being embedded in changing political, economic and social contexts.
A diversity of causes and contexts
What can we learn from examples of how philanthropy has been practised, understood and interpreted across time and place?
Evidence of philanthropic activity exists from the earliest known civilizations and â with local variation â is found in every known society. We can easily point to longstanding evidence of philanthropic activity, from the enormous â and enormously expensive â cathedrals built across northern Europe during the Middle Ages, to the 2,500 libraries built across the world in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century by Scottish American philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, to the recent expansion of food banks across many countries affected by austerity policies and the Covid-19 crisis. But it is much more difficult to provide a precise and widely accepted definition of either âphilanthropyâ or âphilanthropistâ.
The word âphilanthropyâ was first used in the fifth century bce, in the Greek tragedy Prometheus Bound in which Prometheus incurs the perpetual wrath of the gods by giving the gifts of fire and optimism to humans. So the first meaning of the word, and hence its Greek roots, refers to gifts from the gods to humans. Its usage spread in the Greco-Roman world of classical antiquity to apply to earth-bound rulers who treated their subjects well, and then broadened further to encompass wealthy citizens who were considered generous in their disposition as well as in relation to concrete gifts (Cunningham 2016: 43).
Almsgiving and religious donations have a long history. The Judeo-Christian traditions involve clear charitable obligations with exhortations to generosity in both the Old and New Testaments, as does the Islamic faith in which zakat (obligatory almsgiving) is one of the five pillars, and adherents are also encouraged to make voluntary and personal gifts known as sadaqah (Singer 2008). Despite the apparent continuity from pagan benevolence, to Jewish, Christian and Muslim charity, to modern philanthropy, the vocabulary and meanings to which they refer â including how much to give, who ought to be helped, by what means and with what consequence for the giver â have not remained constant over time (Andrews 1950: 31).
Changes in who is called a âphilanthropistâ
The first British person to be labelled as a philanthropist was John Howard, who gained renown in the late eighteenth century for helping debtors and prisoners, dedicating his life and ultimately sacrificing his health to help them, although not through providing any financial assistance (Rodgers 1949; Davies 2015; Cunningham 2020). Toda...