Philanthropic Pluralism and Its Enemies
In my last post, I flagged the paradox in believing that philanthropy administered by elites can help sustain a liberal democracy, especially one in the throes of a populist era. I share this belief, but I also acknowledge the pressing need to justify it. I thus welcomed a recent statement in the Chronicle of Philanthropy by six philanthropic leaders: “We Disagree on Many Things, But We Speak with One Voice in Support of Philanthropic Pluralism.”
Their op-ed surveys the roles that institutions like the ones they lead are uniquely positioned to play in our democracy—and how they should go about it. The authors include the leaders of the Duke, Ford, and Templeton foundations, Stand Together (a philanthropy associated with Charles Koch), the Council on Foundations, and the Philanthropy Roundtable.[1] The orientations and patterns of giving across their institutions and networks span the ideological spectrum, from the progressive and liberal left to the libertarian and conservative right and various permutations in between.
In this post, I’ll share why I found the statement so timely and compelling. I’ll also consider some criticism that followed in its wake, broadsides from the left and right that mirrored each other in uncanny ways. You might think that, given the broad coalition behind philanthropic pluralism and the venerable perspective it invokes, the concept would not lead to bipartisan outrage. Alas, given the times we live in, you would be wrong. But before we engage with the critiques, let’s make sure we appreciate the vision and nuances of the proposal itself.
In Defense of Philanthropic Pluralism
The op-ed calling for philanthropic pluralism helpfully situates the idea in the “tapestry of U.S. democracy, which, alongside government and business, encompasses a large and diverse civil society made up of varying forms of association and collaboration.” Philanthropy’s primary contribution is ensuring that civil society, one of three critical elements woven into the tapestry, is resilient and diverse. Philanthropy does so by taking risks and experimenting in ways that government and business cannot or will not. It lifts up issues being ignored or left behind that we need to reckon with and underwrites different and often competing ideas and solutions for them.
These roles require a pluralistic approach to charitable funding, one that supports a multiplicity of viewpoints and approaches. However, as the philanthropic pluralists lament, in our polarized environment, “foundations and philanthropists are often expected to pledge allegiance to one or another narrow set of prescribed views.” These expectations, by pushing funders to pick a side and join Team Red or Team Blue, impose a heavy-handed duopoly on the marketplace of ideas.
Philanthropy needs to get better at “engaging in disagreements on approaches or even outcomes” rather than aligning with disputatious political actors who reject the need for debate. Philanthropy must model and support constructive engagement not for its own sake, nor because all ideas have equal merit. Indeed, the authors forthrightly state that “not all social and political agendas are morally equivalent.” Precisely because some agendas are better than others, society needs an interplay and contest between and among a multitude of them to discern which are wheat and which are chaff.
No matter how promising, all ideas and programs have room for improvement. Even mistaken or limited ones that don’t win out can still contribute to the development of those that do. The authors readily acknowledge that the marketplace of ideas they support will not always work perfectly. But over time, the dispersed, multifaceted, and evolving debates underwritten by philanthropic pluralism lead to better winnowing.
Hence the pluralists’ commitment to a “healthy independent philanthropic sector” that “encourages consensus on common values, such as respect and open inquiry, as well as disagreement on contested issues of societal significance.” It is not easy to hold the creative tension between these good things. The authors provide guidance to help us.
First, it requires us to grant the legitimacy of philanthropic opposition to funders we disagree with–even, especially, when we disagree sharply. We can and should contest the substance of the views they are underwriting. But, provided they carry out their philanthropy consistent with the law, we cannot and should not deny their right to support agendas that strike us as wrongheaded or even malign. The place to counter them is in the marketplace of ideas, not in erecting barriers to its entry.
Second, we should presume and “behave as if the foundations and individual donors who take stances with which we disagree are also committed to the betterment of society” (my emphasis). We must do so not because they always are, but because this presumption, and the behavior it leads us to adopt, enable the most productive and illuminating debates to occur. It means focusing our criticism on the ideas and agendas rather than the people and institutions with whom we disagree. It means remaining open to critiques and opportunities to sharpen one’s own point of view in light of them.
The advocates of philanthropic pluralism make a point of saying that granting this modicum of respect to our opponents “does not imply acceptance of a view or even commitment to a common resolution. It does recognize our common dignity.” In our sprawling and disputatious democracy, we are never going to see eye to eye on many or perhaps even most issues. But if we are going to live peaceably together, we owe at least this acknowledgement to our fellow free and equal citizens.
The Progressive Response
I turn now to consider two prominent critiques of philanthropic pluralism that have surfaced since the original statement appeared last month. The first comes from an op-ed that Vu Le published in in the Chronicle a week later entitled, “No, Not All Philanthropic Views are Good, and Many Don’t Deserve Our Respect.”
Vu Le blogs with great insight at Nonprofit AF about the trials faced by nonprofit leaders and organizations like the community-based social justice nonprofit he formerly ran in Seattle. He is wickedly funny and doesn’t hesitate to lampoon the pretensions, byzantine practices, and stingy grants that mark too much of the philanthropic sector.
However, in his rebuttal, Le could not be more serious. He clearly regards the philanthropic pluralists’ statement as a grave transgression. There are two core thrusts to his critique. First, he rejects the potential benevolence and corrigibility of the tri-sectoral tapestry of U.S. democracy that serves as the starting point for the pluralists’ statement. Le finds their assumptions about the constructive roles that philanthropy and capitalism can play alongside government in our democracy risible. He smacks them down in a rolling salvo:
“Philanthropy’s roots are stained with inequity and injustice. Much of the wealth in this country was built on a legacy of slavery, stolen Indigenous land, worker exploitation, environmental degradation, and tax avoidance. It is a history of white people and white-led corporations creating the very injustices that they are then lauded for trying to solve by giving fractions of their hoarded wealth.
And yes, it is a history of using private capital to replace other approaches to investing in and supporting a prosperous and just society. It is a history of wealthy people refusing to pay their fair share of taxes and instead squirreling that money away into family foundations – and now donor advised funds – to spend on their pet projects at their whims and leisure….
The lack of acknowledgement of the problematic history of philanthropy is amplified by the lack of acknowledgement of the racial dynamics at play. Philanthropy has always been the realm of wealthy white people. Most donors are white. Most foundation trustees are white. Most foundation CEOs and staff are white. How can philanthropy contribute to democracy when it is itself so undemocratic?
With this progressive populist worldview as your starting point, you are not going to find arguments for philanthropic pluralism persuasive. I quote Le at length here to give readers a feel for an increasingly common perspective among left-of-center foundation staff, their grantees, and those consulting, evaluating, “decolonizing” and / or commenting on their work. Le puts things in a nutshell with his parting shot: “We do not need philanthropy to be ‘alive, vital, and relevant.’ We want the world to be just, and philanthropy to be unnecessary.”
If there is no way to bridge the gulf between Le and the pluralists on the proper roles of philanthropy and free enterprise in our democratic tapestry, there may be on the second thrust of his critique. Le contends their key message is “that all philanthropy is equally valid and good,” a claim he derides as “the philanthropic equivalent of ‘all lives matter.’” He goes on to argue that the philanthropic pluralists are telling him and fellow progressive activists “not to question philanthropy, no matter whom it hurts or what horrible efforts it supports.”
In making these claims, Le ascribes views to the statement’s authors they do not hold. To be sure, they believe that all philanthropists have right to underwrite viewpoints they prefer. Such is life in a free society. But that is only the starting point. The pluralists have a measure of confidence that good, true, and just agendas will be more apt to win out over their opposite numbers, provided all are subject to unfettered criticism. Precisely because, to quote the pluralists again, “not all social and political agendas are morally equivalent,” it is essential to support and have free-wheeling debates about them.
The statement’s authors acknowledge that funders should expect and listen to constructive criticism of what they say and do. It is an essential part of the pluralism for which they are calling. Other participants and observers of the debate can judge for themselves and / or seek to persuade others on the merits of what is being proposed. Vu Le may not respect pluralism in theory, but he is taking full advantage of it in practice—and good on him for it.
New Koch vs. Old Koch
I now turn to an equally sharp critique of philanthropic pluralism from the right: Adam Kissel’s “New Koch,” published last week in The American Mind.[2] It is not a direct response to the op-ed by the six leaders with which we started. It is rather a polemic against what Kissel contends is the leftward drift of one of them, Stand Together, the umbrella organization through which Charles Koch and his affiliates carry out much of their philanthropy. (Brian Hooks, Stand Together’s Chairman and CEO, signed the Chronicle op-ed on behalf of his organization). I review Kissel’s criticism here because essentially what he is bemoaning is Stand Together engaging in philanthropic pluralism.
Kissel acknowledges his case against Stand Together is complicated and personal. Kissel worked in Koch-affiliated organizations for five years before departing to serve in the Department of Education during the Trump Administration. He tells us he is also speaking for other former and current employees and grantees who feel unable to go public under their own names. To paraphrase P.G. Wodehouse, if Kissel and the group he represents are not actually disgruntled, they appear to be far from gruntled. But he is at pains to say he writes out of deep respect for Charles Koch.
Kissel opens the story of “New Koch” with a familiar vignette (in conservative circles anyway): the Ford Foundation’s ostensible turn away from belief in the capitalist system that generated its original endowment.[3] He argues the same thing is now happening with Charles Koch’s various enterprises in civil society:
“‘Old Koch’ was about economic freedom and the core values that sustain a free society, but ‘New Koch’ downplays or hides those values in order to appeal to the contemporary left. Old Koch focused on getting government out of the way so that civil society could flourish. New Koch has largely skipped that step and moved on to ‘social entrepreneurship.’”
Kissel sees the 2019 launch of Stand Together–a name that to his mind “evokes leftist ‘solidarity’ over individualism”—as a key milestone in the leftward shift he alleges. “Mr Koch had called ‘capitalism’ an incorrect term for his interests at least as early as 2016, but Stand Together and [the Charles Koch Foundation] have gone farther.”
As I read deeper into the post, I became less persuaded by its sweeping indictment. Some counts that didn’t scan for me could be dismissed via a five-minute Google session. Other counts rest on tendentious readings of websites and programs of Stand Together and organizations in its extended network. For example, objective readers can see the network’s shift from a “Market-based” to a “Principle-based” management framework is neither fundamental nor ominous but rather a minor update in phrasing. I also don’t buy that the Institute for Humane Studies and the Mercatus Center no longer work to advance our understanding of classical liberalism and how markets solve problems. If so, then several friends and colleagues of mine based at these institutions and dedicated to these missions haven’t gotten the memo.
All that said, I agree with Kissel on his basic point. Charles Koch, Brian Hooks, and Stand Together are actively seeking out and working with new partners across the ideological spectrum to advance their agenda. Kissel notes that Koch is fond of quoting Frederick Douglass in justifying his engagement with strange new bedfellows in civil society: “I would unite with anybody to do right and with nobody to do wrong.” For principled philanthropists in recent years, especially those on the right, that has been an inherently disruptive pledge. Put another way, Stand Together is practicing philanthropic pluralism.
In doing so, Stand Together talks about its agenda in new ways that don’t comport with the traditional language preferred by the “liberty movement’s” old guard, and for good reason. In a post last week underscoring his organization’s commitment to “freedom, free markets, the rule of law, spontaneous order, limited government, individual liberty,” Brian Hooks explains the shift. He does so with an illuminating observation from Friedrich Hayek:
“If old truths are to retain their hold on men’s minds, they must be restated in the language and concepts of successive generations. What at one time are their most effective expressions gradually become so worn with use that they cease to carry a definite meaning. The underlying ideas may be as valid as ever, but the words, even when they refer to problems that are still with us, no longer convey the same conviction.”
While Stand Together has shifted its patterns of engagement and the arguments it deploys in them, these changes have not turned it into a patsy for the left as Kissel suggests. I have worked closely with leaders at Stand Together and in its network for several years now. They remain staunch yet diplomatic advocates for classical liberalism and the values underpinning it. As such, they have substantially extended their circle of influence in civil society. They give and take in effective ways, leaving clear and helpful imprints on efforts they have joined, even as they learn and adapt in light of their participation. That is good for the liberty agenda.
There is a fundamental contradiction at the heart of Kissel’s critique that he alludes to but never resolves. This is not another case of foundation leaders and staff ignoring or perverting their late donor’s intent and dismissing the capitalism that produced the endowment in the first place. This donor is giving while living. And Charles Koch is by all accounts actively helping guide, orchestrate, and justify the evolution in strategy and language that Kissel finds objectionable. Kissel contends that Koch’s principles, philanthropy, and voice have been hijacked right out from under him. Either Mr. Koch doesn’t recognize what is going on and has been hoodwinked, or he does but is helpless to stop it.
Neither explanation is very respectful to Charles Koch. But there is an alternative explanation that is respectful and offers a better account of these developments. Koch remains true to his guiding principles; he continues to grow wiser as he grows older; and he continues to explore better ways to apply his principles and realize his objectives. Stand Together’s philanthropic pluralism is exhibit #1 in this pattern.
Dark Mirrors — and a Better Outlook
Surveying the critiques of philanthropic pluralism from Vu Le and Adam Kissel, and the broader viewpoints they represent, I am struck by how similar they are, ideological differences aside. Both adopt a bleak, Manichean view of the world. In it, their respective sides are always at risk of succumbing to either a naive wish or alluring temptation to collaborate with the denizens of the dark side. Hence they must gird themselves with righteousness to ward off their enemies. It is especially important to remain vigilant for, and quickly call out, wavering allies who appear ready to soften entrenched battle lines.
Toward these ends, determined advocates use a rhetorical technique we might call bat-signaling. It involves foregrounding charged tropes (e.g., “they’re saying ‘all lives matter!’’’ or “It’s the Ford Foundation all over again!”) and repeatedly name-checking known triggers (e.g., “white supremacy” or “critical race theory”). The goal is not to notice and attend to the nuances and facts of the particular case at hand, but to signal and rally one’s allies: The bad guys are at it again–come help me fight them!
Ultimately, such arguments demean and contradict the values they espouse. Many progressive activists have become so mired in pessimism they are hard-pressed to admit we have made any progress over the course of the nation’s history. And thus they are left to wonder why they struggle to build broad majorities for their agenda.
Meanwhile, many conservatives now contemplate, if not call outright for, government to countermand the philanthropic freedom they have traditionally defended—not only that exercised by the Ford Foundation, but also, apparently, by Charles Koch himself! Conservatives are likewise hampered by pessimism, assuming the principles of freedom and entrepreneurship will inevitably lose or be twisted when they are introduced in new ways or to new audiences.
For my part, I’ll stick with the optimistic outlook, spirit of partnership, and belief in the redeemability of democracy in America embodied in the call for philanthropic pluralism. I admire what the signatories have done and how they have done it. In a sector increasingly unsure of itself and besieged by the populists on the right and left alike, they have put their many substantive disagreements aside to clarify and affirm their collective reason for being.
As experienced leaders, they no doubt expected they would encounter at least some colleagues, trustees, grantees, members, or commentators taking umbrage over what they said and / or with whom they said it. It took both vision and fortitude for them to craft and sign the statement together. People who care about the health of civil society and democracy in America–and philanthropy’s role in supporting both–are in their debt.
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[1] In the spirit of disclosure, I have collaborated at various points on projects with leaders and / or staff at all six of these institutions, including three of the signatories: Heather Templeton Dill of the Templeton Foundation, Sam Gill of the Duke Foundation (in his prior role at the Knight Foundation), and Elise Westhoff of the Philanthropy Roundtable. I am also grateful to have Elise serving as a member of Lyceum Labs’ Advisory Board.
[2] An additional disclosure: Adam Kissel helped start and very ably led an initiative on civic education at the Philanthropy Roundtable for which the Hewlett Foundation provided a catalytic grant during my tenure directing the U.S. Democracy Program. I personally oversaw the grant and got to know and worked with Adam in this capacity.
[3] Under the current governance and leadership of the Ford Foundation, it is a stretch to say that the institution has turned its back on its capitalist legacy. Its board includes the current Chairman and CEO of Cisco, the former Chairman and CEO of Xerox, and Henry Ford III, a Director at Ford Motor Company. For his part, Darren Walker worked his way up from being a busboy to an investment banker on Wall Street before he entered philanthropy and has professed that “my belief in our capitalist democracy is unwavering.” He also serves as a corporate director at Block, PepsiCo, and Ralph Lauren.
