microphilanthropy

PARTYING FOR CHARITY

Allison Schrager — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 01:05:37 +0000

"Yes, children are starving and puppies are dying, and you should probably support these causes", writes Allison Schrager. "But better to support a great museum than my local pub" ...

Special to MORE INTELLIGENT LIFE

In my pursuit of community through philanthropy I learned there is another way to spend your time and money: going to parties. I don't mean fancy benefits and galas; those are not the domain of microphilanthropists, who can't spend thousands of dollars on an evening of charitable giving. But I discovered that it could be fun to become a member of a non-profit group and regularly attend its modest events.

On the surface, it seems to be an ineffective way to give to charity. How can attending parties possibly make the world a better place? In the current economic climate, it seems frivolous, even dated, a relic of a gilded age that ended only a few short months ago. In these spare times, giving money directly to the charities you believe in, instead of forcing them to throw costly social events, feels more appropriate.

Nonetheless, a few months ago I became a "Young Fellow" at the Frick museum ($500 per year; "all but $340 is tax deductible"). I'll admit I felt slightly ambivalent about it. As much as I enjoy going to museums and sincerely believe they help to make the world a better place, giving to them is not quite on a par with giving to a cancer hospital. Cultural institutions are a luxury in our society. Surely there are more pressing concerns.

My agenda was to join an organisation that promotes community. In my research, I found that cultural institutions have a monopoly on providing frequent, affordable events that also, frankly, seem fun. My hard-earned, limited income could instead go toward feeding starving children in Africa, which is surely a worthier cause than maintaining the art collection of an old mansion on Fifth Avenue. But starving children do not provide fun parties. Point: museum.

Another concern I had was that the Frick has a reputation for catering to socialites. It has become known as a place to find your future rich ex-husband. Did joining such an organisation make me a social climber? A gold digger? Did its popularity among the posh set undermine my purpose for joining?

The truth is, the Frick is my favourite museum in New York, and meeting others who share my enthusiasm for it appealed to me. Sure, I worried that being in a room of angular socialites angling for a well-connected spouse would make me feel uncomfortable, even repulsed by the very community I was hoping to pursue. Still, I love the Frick collection. If their events left me wanting, at least I could spend the next year regularly admiring its Vermeers.

My first event was a summertime garden reception. Feeling a little nervous, I gulped down a mint julep and introduced myself to some of the other young fellows. Some explained that they had joined to meet new people and heard about the good parties. Others said they genuinely loved the museum and wanted to meet like-minded people.

One man I spoke with had been a member for more than ten years. "When I first joined," he said, "there were only about 40 young fellows. We all loved the museum, went to all the events and grew quite close. Over the years people moved and it caught on with the social set. Now events fill up quickly and are crowded and photographed by people like that", he said, motioning to a legendary society photographer. We catch his eye and he comes over clutching his camera, looks us up and down, and keeps walking. "The events are still fun, though, and now there are more of them and the museum has much better funding, but sometimes I miss the way it used to be," he said, wistfully.

Later I spoke with Heidi Rosenau, the Frick's communication officer, who has been with the Frick for ten years. She conceded that the Young Fellows Ball--launched in 2000, and now a big social event in New York--has been instrumental in drawing in new members. The Frick recently passed the 4,000-member mark (this includes all types of members, not just Young Fellows), which is impressive for a relatively small museum.

An increase in membership and greater visibility benefit a museum, but at what cost? According the to the Frick's 2007 Annual Report, the Frick took in nearly $1.9m in membership dues (again, this includes all types of members), an increase of nearly 16% from 2006, and nearly double than the amount from 1999. Income from dues increased almost every year since 1998, the exception being 2001, when they fell slightly and then stagnated until 2004. But with the economy going south, most museums expect donations and memberships to dry up.

Membership dues easily pay for the member events, and seem to help cover expenses that benefit the wider public. In 2007, the museum spent about $1.7m on special exhibits, concerts, lectures and special programmes (including exhibitions and programmes available to regular visitors). "It's not all about cost-benefit", explained Mary Emerson, associate director for development at the Frick. "It's about encouraging deeper relationships that, in turn, encourage philanthropy, and membership is just one of the vehicles we employ towards that positive goal."

I've certainly come to enjoy the lectures and receptions in the last few months, and I have been impressed by the diverse array of the people I've met (albeit few wealthy bachelors, mind you). That the museum offered a full programme of demographic-friendly events made becoming a member seem worthwhile, and encouraged me to donate more than I would ordinarily (in part because the expense is both charitable and social, making it an efficient use of resources). When I am boozing up at the Frick, I can also feel like I am doing some good. Better to support a great museum than my local pub. I think I'll renew my membership next year.

Yes, children are starving and puppies are dying, and you should probably support these causes. But if you are looking to expand your social circle, joining a local museum is a nice way to get out and have fun while supporting a worthy cause. I mean, it's hard to do better than mint juleps and Vermeer.

Picture credit: Young Fellows Ball, Mary Hilliard

(Allison Schrager is an economist based in New York. Her last microphilanthropy column was "Does one Abused Woman = 100 Abused Puppies?"; her last article for More Intelligent Life was "How to Cheat at Everything".)

AN ECONOMIST'S PURSUIT OF "COMMUNITY"

Allison Schrager — Fri, 23 May 2008 13:01:00 +0000

ALLISON SCHRAGER | THE MICROPHILANTHROPIST | May 24th 2008

mahalie/flickr

Smarting from a reader's complaint that she lacked a sense of community, Allison Schrager goes hunting for useful ways to donate her time. Maybe there's something to this whole volunteer-work thing after all?

Special to MORE INTELLIGENT LIFE

I always considered myself a non-joiner; proudly unaffiliated, blazing my own path, the renegade yuppie of the Upper West Side. So when a reader, in response to an earlier piece I wrote on volunteer-work, suggested I lacked a sense of community, I wondered if he had a point. Maybe I do need to "get my hands dirty", and appreciate what it means to engage with my neighbours. Perhaps the "costs" I had calculated before, which valued my time (which is scarce) over my money (which is slightly less scarce), didn't fully factor in the benefits of community involvement.

So can I, the loner, rational economist, find this mythic sense of community? And, how will I know it when I do? Will I have more friends, more dates? Or will I suddenly feel a serene sense of connection to people around me? I have decided to dedicate this column to explore how I, a microphilanthropist, can apply my desire to do good to becoming an integral member of my community.

Social psychologists have spent years defining we mean when we say a "sense of community". Seymour Sarason's 1974 book, "The Psychological Sense of Community: Prospects for a Community Psychology," characterises a psychological sense of community as "the perception of similarity to others, an acknowledged interdependence with others, a willingness to maintain this interdependence by giving to or doing for others what one expects from them, and the feeling that one is part of a larger dependable and stable structure."

Achieving a sense of community, according to Sarason's definition, involves more than joining just any organisation. The perception of similarity to others is crucial. I must choose a community with which I have a sincere connection or feeling of commonality. Keeping up my end of the interdependence will require a genuine commitment.

First I must consider with whom I am looking to establish this connection. Do I want to expand my social network and make new friends? Or do I want to get to know my neighbours by discovering common values and a shared sense of purpose? Ideally, I want some combination of both. I love my chosen home city--New York--and would like to make it a better place. I find the prospect of spending time with other locals, with whom I have little in common but a shared love of the city and a desire to serve it, compelling. I anticipate finding this kind of community would deepen my connection to the city. Also, the possibility of expanding my social network sounds appealing because, frankly, my social life could always stand for more excitement.

Besides feeling better about where I live and making more friends, community engagement might make me a better economist. I hear sociology is the new economics. Instead of being concerned with providing individuals with economic freedom and low taxes to achieve their dreams, politicians want happy, supportive communities amongst their constituents. To an economist this sounds like a bunch of hooey--I feel instinctively hostile to anything that questions my libertarian sensibility, particularly if it involves us all joining hands in the service of feeling better about ourselves. But, perhaps these ideals are not mutually exclusive. Economies and communities do coexist; indeed, they thrive together. Cooperation and trust leads to better economic decision-making, innovation and ultimately higher rates of growth.

The quickest and most effective way to achieve a greater sense of community entails volunteering my time and affiliating with local organisations. While I am excited about donating my resources--both time and money--to worthy causes, I am immediately filled with anxiety at the idea. Remember, I am no joiner. Are the people who get involved in the community the phoney, enthusiastic types I hated in school? Will I have to play trust games?

I spoke with many friends and acquaintances about community engagement. I was surprised to learn how many people I know have been, all this time, quietly donating their time and money. I queried about their motivations and the outcome of their engagement. Despite a diverse array of projects, everyone I spoke with had common reasons for their involvement.

New York is a large city with many anonymous people. You often speak to the same several people each week. All the while, you pass by complete strangers each day who have the potential to enrich your life. Some joined groups to increase their business network. Many hoped to increase the quality and quantity of their dating pool. These motivations may sound selfish, but ultimately they seem to be what community-building is about. Also, most chose organisations that fit Sarason's definition: they affiliated themselves with worthy causes to which they felt connected.

To start, a friend on the junior committee of New York Cares, an organisation of mostly young professionals who participate in local volunteer projects, invited me to a benefit. There I spoke with several people who worked in a wide range of projects. One man said his experience with with AIDS patients set him on a new career path in the health industry. Another said he helped local ten-year olds with their schoolwork every week. The projects seemed to benefit both the volunteers and their recipients, and everyone seemed sincere in their enthusiasm. I was impressed by the genuine connection these volunteers had made with the people they work with. No one seemed trite or treacly.

While the benefit was fun (and useful for New York Cares), a party is not enough to cultivate a sense of community. But I was inspired enough by the experience and my conversations with others to embark on a volunteering project of my own (which I'll share more about in my next piece).

The economist in me always saw beauty in the discerning market, which provides real rewards to only the most talented. But successful community-building thrives on inclusion rather than exclusivity. Higher participation rates make for a stronger, stabler and more dependable community, enhancing the experience for everyone involved. Economies and communities thrive together, which means even an economist can (and in this case will) achieve a sense of community.

(Allison Schrager is an economist based in New York.)

GIVING TO WAR-TORN FLEDGLING DEMOCRACIES

Allison Schrager — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 19:33:47 +0000

ALLISON SCHRAGER | THE MICROPHILANTHROPIST | February 8th 2008

babasteve/Flickr

How should we help people in troubled developing countries? And how do we do this while staying comfortably at home? So much aid is paternalistic and ineffective. Allison Schrager considers better alternatives ...

Special to MORE INTELLIGENT LIFE

Regardless of how you feel about why we are in Afghanistan, many of us would hope to improve the daily lives of those who live there. But how can we help the citizens of a country so far away? How do we even know what they might need? I could join the military or find work with an NGO there. But really, I am far too selfish to do either of these things. I have endless admiration for those who are willing to disrupt their lives and put them on the line. I, however, want to be able to offer help from the comfort of my own home.

As a microphilanthropist, I usually hesitate to support most NGOs in developing countries, particularly in places where I am largely ignorant of the history, culture and development needs. Something about it feels imperialistic, even paternalistic, as if I have the power to decide what is in the best interest of a place I have never visited. I am also wary of efforts to preserve a country's traditional economic institutions and customs--in the name of sustaining its "culture"--particularly when such institutions traditionally have not served its people and may be contrary to development.

Giving money to a war-torn, fledgling democracy brings up many conflicts for me. It may be well intentioned, but under the wrong circumstances it could make a bad situation worse. You may not be convinced by economic arguments against aid, such as those voiced by William Easterly. But it is hard to deny that aid can do harm when given too enthusiastically to countries in need. However, putting the ever-sceptical economist in me aside, the fact remains that I do want to help people in Afghanistan. How can I do this effectively, and without offending my professional sensibilities?

The best way is to find an organisation that has local knowledge of the country and a thorough understanding of its economic needs. Also, target individuals and leave the big macro-development projects to the government and large aid organisations. I find the Global Partnership for Afghanistan (GPFA) appealing. It is a New York-based charity, founded by Afghan-Americans and Americans, which offers micro-loans to Afghan land owners to plant fruit and nut orchards. It also provides agricultural training and support to the Afghan farmers, particularly women. The group's goal is to spur economic development by empowering individual farmers with a source of income and food.

I usually recoil at talk of agricultural subsidies. But in this case the farmers receive micro-loans, which require some discipline and accountability. Micro-loans, when administered properly, provide an institution that developing countries generally lack.

Decades of war have devastated the Afghan countryside and rendered much of it nearly infertile. Most arable land has been devoted to the illicit cultivation of poppies for opium-related drugs. Though economically viable, growing poppies is not conducive to Afghanistan's long-term political and economic objectives. In this case, an exogenous incentive may be what this population needs.

GPFA works closely with Afghan economists, agricultural experts and local NGOs, which gives the group sound knowledge of what Afghanis need for development. Encouraging agriculture makes sense because Afghanistan has a rich agricultural history before the wars and it provides a foundation for future economic development.

The desire to help people who are far away, and in circumstances we cannot imagine, is a particularly challenging objective for the microphilanthropist. But it is possible to provide some assistance as long as we take the time to figure out the best means to do so.

(Allison Schrager is an economist based in New York.)