I begin with a note about moral goodness as a quality, disposition, or trait of a person or human being. This has at least two different senses, one wider and one narrower. Aristotle remarked that the Greek term we translate as justice sometimes meant simply virtue or goodness as applied to a person and sometimes meant only a certain virtue or kind of goodness. The same thing is true of our word “goodness.” Sometimes being a good person means having all the virtues, or at least all the moral ones; then goodness equals the whole of virtue. But sometimes, being a good person has a narrower meaning, namely, being kind, generous, and so forth. Thus, my OED sometimes equates goodness with moral excellence as a whole and sometimes with a particular moral excellence, viz., kindness, beneficence, or benevolence; and the Bible, when it speaks of God as being good sometimes means that God has all the virtues and sometimes only that he is kind, mereiful, or benevolent. When Jesus says, “Why callest thou me good: None is good, save one, that is God,” he seems to be speaking of goodness in the inclusive sense, but when the writer of Exodus has God himself say that he is “merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth,” God is using “goodness” in the narrower sense in which it means benevolence, for he goes on to make it clear that he is also just and severe. Similarly, “good will” may mean either “morally good will” in general, as it does in Kant, or it may mean only “benevolent will,” as it usually does; in “men of good will” it is perhaps ambiguous.

Morality requires us to act for the good of others. This is not the only moral requirement there is, and it is, of course, controversial where the good of others lies. But whatever their good is, there can be no serious doubt that acting so as to bring it about is one crucial obligation morality places on us. Yet the nature of this obligation is unclear, because there are difficult questions about its aim and about the motivational sources required for realizing it. Who are the others for whose good we are obligated to act? Are they only people in our immediate context, or members of our society, or all human beings? And, as a matter of moral psychology, what leads us to honor this obligation? Is it a sense of justice, decency, prudence, benevolence, or some combination of these and perhaps other virtues? The answers we give will shape our understanding of the nature of the obligation. For the character traits which we think should move us will influence the choice of people we aim to benefit and the inclusiveness we attribute to the obligation will affect the motives we wish to cultivate in ourselves and others.

Etymology might encourage us to begin a discussion of Aristotle on philanthropy with a discussion of philanthropia; and it is instructive to see why this is not quite the right place to look. The Greek term initially refers to a generalized attitude of kindness and consideration for a human being. The gods accuse Prometheus of being a ‘human-lover’, intending the term in an unfavorable sense, when he confers on human beings the benefits that should have been confined to the gods. Aristotle uses the abstract noun only once, to refer to sympathetic fellow-feeling (Rhet. 1390a18–23); and he mentions our feeling of kinship with other human beings to explain our approval of the philanthropos person (Eth. Nic. 1155a16–21). Philanthropia is the attitude of a kind and considerate person, even if she lacks material resources, and it can be displayed without the transfer of material resources.

How can anyone be opposed to private philanthropy? Such philanthropy consists in persons freely giving of their wealth or other goods to benefit individuals and groups they consider worthy of support. As private persons, they act apart from – although not, of course, in contravention of – the political apparatus of the state. In acting in this beneficent way, the philanthropists are indeed, as their name etymologically implies, lovers of humanity; and their efforts are also justified as exercises of their right to freedom, including the free use of the resources they own, which they have presumably acquired by their own free efforts or by the efforts of other persons who have freely transferred these resources to them. Thus, private philanthropy combines two of the highest values of individual and social morality: personal freedom and interpersonal beneficence.

I. Moral Problems of Private Philanthropy

Many questions about moral, and especially human, rights arise from private philanthropy as thus briefly characterized. These questions may be divided into three sets, which focus respectively on the agents of philanthropy (i.e., the philanthropists themselves), on the recipients of philanthropy, and on the objects for which philanthropic awards are given. First, regarding the agents: Do they have a right to all the wealth they possess? Have they accumulated this wealth in a way that has respected the moral rights of other persons? If the answer is negative, even in part, then in what morally valid sense is all the wealth in question theirs to give away, even if they use it for philanthropic purposes: Do they have a right to give it away as they choose?

This paper will attempt to defend the thesis that it is impossible to understand the proper role of private philanthropy in a free and democratic society without examining certain fundamental questions about the proper roles of the state and about the rights and obligations of owners of private property. It will defend that thesis by presenting arguments for four subordinate theses: (a) there are historical and philosophical reasons for being skeptical about the role of private philanthropy in a free and democratic state; (b) these reasons can be met by certain familiar responses, but these responses are not fully satisfactory; (c) certain radical libertarian views, and more moderate versions of those views, would provide a basis for an alternative understanding of the role of private philanthropy in a free and democratic state; (d) whether or not one accepts those views, one can also better understand that role if one adopts a view of the state which emphasizes its role in the promotion of the virtues.

(1) Historical and Philosophical Doubts

The skeptical challenge to the claim that there is an important role for private philanthropy in a free and democratic state can be put very simply. It is the challenge that the emergence of strong but democratic states, with the concurrent emergence of a proper understanding of the extensive nature of legitimate state functions, has undercut the need for private philanthropy and its corresponding favorable tax treatment. It is the further claim that these developments, both historical and conceptual, have left private philanthropy with no significant role.

The idea of moral pluralism generates a dilemma for the practice of philanthropy. Characteristically, the practice of philanthropy assumes unity, coherence, or convergence among the diverse virtues and moral aims that it pursues. In the philanthropic tradition, it is recognized that the goals of a particular philanthropy will vary. Yet, if these are sincere expressions of the philanthropic will, each represents some portion of the manifold activity of “doing good” according to particularized choice or style. The relevant analogy should be drawn to the slogan of “giving to the college of your choice” or to worship of the one god in your own way, where the plurality of expression is not only consistent with the residual value of education or of religion, but articulates the pragmatic way to realize the underlying values of a pluralistic society.

Historically, this reflects the place of a unifying religious vision of the nature of the good or of a secular conception of a public philosophy which recognized the common good. Even etymologically, the love of mankind suggests a single passion that is directed beneficently to the shared values of mankind.

The theory and practice of contemporary philanthropy is necessarily pluralistic, however, and it reflects the range of decisions by individuals with different interests and values in a pluralist, democratic society. The legitimized and recognized range of philanthropies in modern societies demonstrates divergent and even conflicting perceptions of the common good or the public interest.

Thus, the range of philanthropies includes support for bird watching and for business opportunities of minorities, which may require some decisions on “comparable worth” and competitive allocation of resources.

The question I want to discuss is “How can I say ‘No’ to a fund-raising appeal?” Since many people apparently find it easy to say “No,” it is not clear what the problem is. Put briefly, the problem is this: I do not want to think of myself as uncaring, unfeeling, and insensitive to the needs of others. And yet, within the last year I have not responded to appeals for funds from a wide variety of causes: medical research, famine relief, freedom of speech, environmental protection. I have turned down requests for support of scholarly magazines, research institutes, and other good causes. My only moderate-sized contribution during that time has been to the capital campaign of an organization of which I am a member. I have enough to have made (very) small contributions to all of the organizations from which I received appeals, but not enough so that my contributions to any single cause would be of major significance. How can I justify not giving?

The problem arises because these appeals (some of them, at least) apparently put moral claims upon me: they say that people are suffering and have needs, and you can help to meet them. Or they say that the intellectual and cultural life of our society will be enriched if you help.

One traditional philosophic view holds that moral claims have a special status. They override political, economic, social, and other claims. The only thing, according to this view, that can free one from a moral claim is another moral claim.

My aim is to consider how private philanthropy – and that of foundations specifically – can better serve its social purposes. What I have to say may strike professionals in the field as naive. Admittedly my perspective is limited, for I have sat only on the grantee side of the desk. But I have also often tried to put myself into the grantor's frame of mind. The impressions gained in that way have been confirmed and modified by numerous recent conversations in preparation for this paper. The heads of foundations with whom I talked, the board members, and program officers, all were warmly forthcoming, forgiving of my naivete, and very helpful. I hope that what may be construed as criticism in what I have to say will not be taken as betrayal of those good offices. I mean it as support and encouragement of the positive intent I found in every instance.

When I accepted the invitation to write a paper on moral values and philanthropy, I first reflected on my own experience. I have often been troubled by my own moral standards in dealing with foundations. In nearly every instance, the proposals that I have written have contained an element of exaggeration – a heightening of the importance of the project I was proposing and of the capacity of my institution to carry it out. My end-of-grant follow-up reports have almost always contained exaggerated claims for the project's success.

This inflation was not done consciously. It was a tendency learned early in my career from reading other proposals and participating in committees designing projects to be proposed.