Cynthia Peters
The
Newtown Florist Club in Gainesville, Georgia was a group of African American
churchwomen that brought flowers to the sick. After a while, they noticed that a
lot of the sick had gotten that way because of environmental problems. The
Newtown churchwomen made a connection between the disease in their community and
the fact that they lived on top of the old city dump, as well as played host to
numerous emission-producing industries. In addition to delivering flowers, the
churchwomen began offering “toxic tours” of their neighborhood to visitors.
They sued local polluters, convinced others to reduce emissions or relocate,
and, while they were at it, sued the local school district for violating civil
rights laws.
They
went from providing a service to trying to understand why people needed the
service in the first place. They received support for their efforts from a
social change foundation called Fund for Southern Communities.
The
Newtown Florist Club is a quirk in one way: they got money. There are thousands
of church-, community-, and school-based efforts that might make the connection
between their charitable work and the root causes of the problems they are
trying to address. But they are not likely to get funding. Of the $19.46 billion
given away by private foundations in 1998, only 2.4 percent of that total was
dispersed by foundations committed to social change (according to an article by
Noy Thrupkaew in “Sojourner,” May 2000).
This
has got to change, say Chuck Collins, Pam Rogers, and Joan P. Garner, the
authors of “Robin Hood Was Right: A Guide to Giving Your Money for Social
Change,” a new book produced in conjunction with the Haymarket People ’s
Fund. “On the surface, social change movements appear to be spontaneous bursts
of energy, a sweep of people, outraged, rising to demand a change. But in truth
they flow from careful organizing, massive public education, sustained
agitation, and at times inspired collaboration across the divides of race,
gender, and class. These movements are driven by human energy, intelligence,
courage – and money.” (p. 39)
If
you are cynical about social change, pessimistic that your support will have a
meaningful impact, or immobilized by guilt or ignorance regarding management of
your money, the “Robin Hood” authors are sympathetic, but they want you to
get over it. Whether you are wealthy or just comfortable, you should use your
resources to support social change. Your money and time should go towards
organizations that are addressing the root causes of inequality and oppression,
rather than dispensing Band-Aids to the disenfranchised. And they wrote this
book to show you how. It is well written, concise, full of social change stories
straight from the grassroots, illuminating quotes from progressive donors, and
plenty of concrete advice about everything from the nuts and bolts of hiring a
financial consultant to the emotional issues connecting self-worth and net
worth.
Even
if you barely have a net worth (in the financial sense), this book has a message
for you. Writing in that hard-to-achieve tone that mixes passion and
matter-of-fact common sense, the authors argue that you should give. Give money.
Give time. Give a lot if you have it. Or give a little if you can. Giving is a
sensible choice, they argue, even though injustice can sometimes seem
insurmountable, because organizing works. And well funded organizing works
better.
But
don’t give of your time and money indiscriminately. Specifically:
—
Aim at root causes, not symptoms. — Build collective responses, not individual
solutions, to problems. — Change attitudes, behavior, laws, policies, and
institutions the better to reflect values of inclusion, fairness, and diversity.
— Insist on accountability and responsiveness in such institutions as
government, large corporations, and universities. — Expand democracy by
involving those closest to social problems in determining their solution. (p.
36-37)
It’s
a big agenda, the authors acknowledge, and one that will be hard to hold onto if
you don’t develop ways to sustain yourself and remain hopeful along the way.
This is where vision comes in. “Analysis helps us understand what’s wrong,
how it got that way, and, most important, how change can occur. Imagination
enables us to envision new possibilities.” (p. 61) What a rare pleasure it is
to come across this reminder in a progressive book on any topic! Surely,
indignation, anger and sadness motivate us to fight injustice, but vision
reminds us of what we want to affirm, fight for, and achieve. Vision nurtures
hope, and hope sustains lifelong activists.
One
of the strengths of this book is that it “connects the dots”: it
persuasively makes the case that radical social change giving is the right thing
to do and then it tells you how to do it. Chapters on socially responsible
investing, giving to foundations, and direct giving include practical
information all couched in the authors’ political commitment to diversity,
democracy, and radical social change. Thus, if you decide to donate your money
to a foundation, and let the foundation give it away, the authors want to make
sure you give to a progressive foundation – one dedicated to “Change, Not
Charity,” one that takes leadership from grassroots community by staffing its
board with local activists, and one that makes decisions based on thorough
information (not insider connections). This is an important point. Not only do
we want to support organizations that build democracy; we want to give money
away democratically. Progressive, community-led foundations are one way to share
the power and decision-making capability that comes with wealth.
While
we applaud the growth of democratically-run social change foundations, let’s
keep asking questions about how money gets spent on the left. Although 2.4% is a
small fraction of the whole, in 1998, it amounted to $46.7 million – all
funneled through social change foundations. Whom and what did that money go to?
Did it help build an infrastructure – such as alternative media – to support
a movement? Was it used efficiently by democratic organizations that do NOT
recreate class, race and gender imbalances?
From
personal experience and anecdotal evidence, it seems to me we have lots of small
groups putting disproportionate amounts of energy into fundraising – only
successfully enough to scrape by and continue the cycle of small budget
constraints and crisis management. What do Robin Hood’s recipients think of
his distribution methods? Perhaps it’s unrealistic to expect to hear honestly
from those who depend on Robin Hood’s good will, but in an ongoing effort to
democratize the process, we should create ways for movement people think more
strategically (and then be heard!) about how money circulates amongst us,
whether we support each other or compete for it, and how we might create a
structure that allows us to spend less time fundraising and more time
organizing.