Should we care where charity comes from?

In a 2008 New York Times Magazine article titled “The Moral Instinct,” Steven Pinker asks who is the more moral character: Bill Gates or Mother Teresa? By conventional, Judeo-Christian, rich-people-can’t-get-into-heaven morality, it appears to be black and white: One is the world’s richest man and the other is a poverty-vowing nun on the fast track to sainthood. But Gates’ munificent donations to malaria prevention have saved countless lives around the world, even though he has still kept billions for himself. Mother Teresa’s missions were well publicized and superficially pious, but they subjected many patients to substandard medical care and debatably backward methods of diagnosis.

With an eye toward the ongoing efforts to raise aid money for Japan, we must be sure to ask ourselves an important question: To what extent is the righteousness of charity judged by intent, and to what extent is it judged by outcome? If I donate $100 to an earthquake relief effort and ask nothing in return, but Milburn Pennybags offers to donate $1 million for every person who comes into his store, which is more morally acceptable? My donation is more in line with traditional altruism, to be sure, and Pennybags’ is likely to be seen as exploitative of a tragedy for publicity gains. But if the ultimate concern is indeed for the victims, it would seem that my gift of a few dollars would fall short of a larger donation’s philanthropic potential.

This hypothetical manifests itself in real terms on a daily basis in the form of cause-related marketing. Most recently, Microsoft found itself under intense criticism after its Bing service (via Twitter) offered to donate a dollar to the Japanese relief effort for every retweet of their offer, up to $100 thousand. The seemingly benign offer caused somewhat of an uproar, with many people claiming that Microsoft was trying to seek marketing gain in the wake of disaster.

Last week, The Wall Street Journal ran an article with the headline “Cause-tied marketing requires care,” which examines the various ways corporations were approaching relief efforts and the potentially dangerous questioning of intentions that is likely to occur with any cause-related marketing. Critics asserted that if companies were really trying to help the cause, they should have simply donated the money without making gifts conditional on the success of marketing ploys. Others contend that the use of social media helps to spread awareness as well as donations.

The important thing to realize is that all donations are made with personal gain in mind—and that’s not a bad thing. In fact, acknowledging the self-interested aspect of charity is far from a cynical critique. Instead, people should accept this reality as the grease that allows all private charity to function. Whether it is Walmart’s gain from a generous donation, which is likely to come in the form of improved public relations, or an individual’s gain from helping the relief effort, which comes from his ability to feel good about himself, it is a mutually beneficial exchange. Every consensual transaction is mutually beneficial—or else people wouldn’t consent to it.

People must accept that placing moral judgments on a company’s philanthropic efforts is more of an insult to the intelligence of the consumer than it is to the company. When you cry, “They should have just donated the money,” what you are really saying is not that they shouldn’t seek personal gain from charity, but that they should be better at and less obvious in seeking personal gain from charity. In essence, you would prefer that they more convincingly trick you into appearing more selfless. This does not only attach a strange form of dishonesty to philanthropy—it may well be a disincentive for companies to act charitably. Consider this: If I am wary, as Microsoft now doubtless is, that the way in which I choose to give away my fortune is going to be criticized, I might just keep it for myself.

Derek Speranza is a Trinity junior. His column runs every other Tuesday.