(Bloomberg Businessweek) -- Will 2018 be the year you turn doing good into a pursuit? Follow the lead of those who already have—from José Andrés’s inspirational feeding of the masses; Christy Turlington Burns’s dedication to expectant mothers; or Jason Flom’s evangelist zeal for the wrongfully accused.
The bottom line: There’s no one right way to give. Here are a few ideas to get going.
No. 1 — Just start.
In a year defined by floods and fires, chef José Andrés has become the face of feeding the devastated and displaced. He has mobilized 16,000 volunteers and a network of 140 chefs to serve more than 3 million meals in storm-ravaged Puerto Rico and Houston. In early December, he was coordinating relief efforts in Los Angeles from across the country in Miami.
His motto is simple: action before planning. “When you have people who are hungry, you don’t have time to sit down at a table and make plans,” he says. “If you’re lucky, it happens at the same time. But probably the planning is after. Big agencies don’t activate quickly enough.”
Read more about his story here.
Nos. 2 to 18
Stuck starting? This philanthropic decision tree will help. Download a PDF if you’re having trouble reading it below.
No. 19 — Be your own evangelist.
Jason Flom, chief executive officer of Lava Records and founding board member of the Innocence Project, takes criminal justice reform to the airwaves with Wrongful Conviction.
“I love a microphone, and I love to talk,” Jason Flom says, laughing. The 56-year-old head of Lava Records—who helped launch the careers of Katy Perry, Kid Rock, Lorde, and many others—has a voice that will be familiar to anyone who listens to Wrongful Conviction, the podcast Flom created and hosts.
But for a man who loves the spotlight, he makes sure the guests shine on his show, which began in July 2016 and has been streamed more than 2.6 million times. Unlike Serial, which dangles the question of guilt to listeners, Flom’s subjects are presumed innocent ahead of time—though they’ve spent years in prison.
The podcast, now up to almost 50 episodes, is an offshoot of Flom’s two-decade-long support for the Innocence Project, an organization founded by lawyer Barry Scheck that uses DNA science to overturn wrongful convictions. “It has the goal of exonerating people who were factually innocent,” Flom says, “and changing policies so these things don’t happen with such alarming frequency.” Although he’d spent considerable energies at the Innocence Project as both a fundraiser and board member for decades, in 2016 he wanted to find a way to leverage his digital savvy to spread the message. The best option, he reasoned, would be a podcast.
It’s a medium tailor-made for in-depth interviews. The wrongfully convicted can quite literally plead their cases to potential supporters. Flom’s show usually consists of a 45-minute conversation between him and a guest, who’s often accompanied by his or her lawyer. “Many of the exonerees have said it was cathartic for them to tell their stories to a real audience,” Flom says. His first episode was with Raymond Santana, who spent 12 years in prison as a result of the botched Central Park jogger assault case. Since then he’s interviewed high-profile subjects such as Amanda Knox, famously convicted of murder in Italy and later released, and Michael Morton, the Texas supermarket manager convicted of killing his wife and exonerated more than 24 years later—after a prosecutor was shown to have withheld crucial evidence. (The prosecutor ended up in prison himself.)
Flom’s most popular episode, at more than 150,000 downloads, was a visit inside Sing Sing Correctional Facility to interview Jon-Adrian Velazquez, who was sentenced to 25 years to life for killing a retired cop. There was no physical or DNA evidence, merely the testimony of two eyewitnesses, one of whom has recanted. “He’s been locked up for probably 20 years,” Flom says. “There’s an added element when you’re dealing with a case that’s not resolved yet, because it allows people the chance to form their own opinions, feel a different sort of outrage, because the guy’s still in.” (After the show aired, Velazquez got a court date to address his case.)
Flom gives all the money he makes from Wrongful Conviction to the Innocence Project and encourages listeners to donate at the end of every episode. And he gave an additional $1 million—one dollar for each of the first million downloads.
Flom says he was encouraged to be altruistic by his father, Joseph, a mergers-and-acquisitions lawyer nicknamed Mr. Takeover. “I had a sense of giving back [instilled] at an early age,” he says. “I like to say I was in criminal justice before it was cool.” —Mark Ellwood
No. 20 — Don’t let inexperience stop you.
Since 2000 the Austin-based Andy Roddick Foundation has raised $20 million for after-school and summer programs for children in literacy, science, technology, the arts, and sports.
As told to Mark Ellwood:Before I was a tennis player of any note, Andre Agassi used me as a hitting partner. After a charity event in Houston, we were on the plane home, and he says, “All right, kid, ask me any question you want.” We ran the gamut through his history, his highlights, even his unfortunate wardrobe choices. Then I asked what his biggest regret was. He said, “I didn’t start my foundation early enough.” [The Andre Agassi Foundation for Education, established in 1994, operates a charter school campus in Las Vegas.] This is right after I’d watched him take two hours of phone calls and emails about it. It really struck home.
The next year, I won a couple of tournaments, had a good run at the U.S. Open, and then took on a more formal process of setting up a proper foundation. That was at 18. At that age you think, I can do anything. I didn’t understand the full responsibility of it, but that made it an easy thing to greenlight, too. Early on, you’re able to learn and maybe make some mistakes along the way. Of course, I wasn’t an 18-year-old with nothing to offer. I was lucky: People were pointing at me to be the next American tennis guy. I think Venus and Serena Williams came to our first foundation event.
Once, we raised close to 2 million bucks for an event with Elton John and distributed it to our partners, and I thought, This is so great. But a friend of mine who’d served in Afghanistan and went to Harvard Business School had a lot of questions that I didn’t know the answers to. He asked, “What’s the focus of it? What does it look like in 15 years?” I’m going, “Wait a minute, I want a big pat on the back for what we did last week.” I was pissed off at him for the next two or three days. But the more distance we had, I realized he was right—I really needed to start thinking about the long term. I’m thankful for those tough conversations, so I was able to figure stuff out while there was still a little bit of runway left with my career.
“The problem in our country today is that so many people are not getting a good education. We can change the tax laws and take the wealth away of all the people on the Forbes 400—it’s not going to change income inequality. Income inequality is only going to change by educating people who are not getting educated now. One of the best things we can do is support scholarships.”— David Rubenstein, co-founder and co-CEO of the Carlyle Group LP
No. 21 — Remember: This is for you, too.
Carmen Matias is a volunteer greeter at the High Line park in New York City, which caters to almost 8 million visitors every year and runs more than 450 public programs.
As told to Chris Rovzar:I didn’t come to volunteering at the High Line actually until maybe five years ago, a little before I retired. I believe that old saying, to whom a lot has been given, a lot is expected. Although I grew up in the projects in Queens, a lot of people have helped me, and I wanted to pay it forward, if you will.
I’m a greeter, which is being in a kiosk and giving people information. I get asked, Where should I eat? What’s the history of the High Line? It’s helped me improve my Italian, certainly my Spanish, and of course my English.
If I could give new volunteers some advice, I’d say, Look for something that you’re passionate about. Once you do it, then look at ways to suggest improvements. Be part of it. Don’t just go in and stand by the door and point to the bathroom. It’ll make it more fulfilling for you. The High Line gives me more than I give the High Line.
Volunteering is a lifestyle. It’s not for everyone. My husband says to me, You stopped a nice job, and now you’re giving it away for free. And I say, I don’t look at it that way, I’ve learned so much professionally, and those skills are transferrable to volunteering. I’m just not getting paid for it in money. I’m getting paid for it in other ways.
No. 22 — Build a community.
Co-founded in 2003 by Louise Langheier, Peer Health Exchange Inc. (PHE) has sent more than 13,000 trained college students nationwide to teach 150,000 ninth-graders about safe sex, mental health, and substance abuse.
Over the past 14 years, Louise Langheier, 36, has learned what works when it comes to recruiting thousands of student volunteers and keeping them involved: More than half of PHE educators return year after year. Langheier believes that three lessons can be learned by volunteers of all ages.
ONE. “Right now young people care very deeply about equity,” she says. Equity in the world of political action means righting systematic wrongs in society. Politically motivated college students want to find charity work that doesn’t just fix an immediate problem but moves toward righting injustice long term. “They are really discerning about whether a volunteer opportunity is going to fight racism and oppression of marginalized groups,” Langheier says.
TWO. “Our volunteers make it personal. College students are going through their own mental and sexual health challenges and substance challenges,” she says. “This woman in the Bay Area last year had two kids and was finishing her degree as a thirtysomething at SF State, working a job, and doing PHE. When I asked her, ‘Why the hell are you doing this?’ she said, ‘Because I had a kid as a young person. This stuff is really important for young people who share my background. I’m going to work tirelessly to make sure they have choices.’ ”
THREE. “People crave community, and when a volunteer opportunity brings them together with their peers and has some social component, it’s an opportunity to hang out,” explains Langheier. “At Columbia University, for example, we have 350 applicants for 140 spots. It happens because this is the thing to do at Columbia. It is not only personal, and a movement for equity, but it is also the community to be a part of.”
These connections can last for years, creating a long-term bond with the charity as well. “Our college students have ended up marrying each other or being best friends,” Langheier says. “Actually having something that you are a part of, that you’re a community working for, is really special.” —Chris Rovzar
“When we were young, Robert Mapplethorpe and I were sitting alone, and I was quite depressed because of the Vietnam War. I decided I wasn't going to do anything anymore. I just decided that it was all useless in the face of all the atrocities and all the wrong and our young friends dying. And Robert said to me, ‘What’s your favorite painting?’ And I said ‘Guernica.’ And he said, ‘What if Picasso, after Guernica had been bombed, had just curled up in a ball and never produced that painting?’ It was such a small lesson but it woke me up immediately and I never let myself get curled up in that ball again. It’s a lesson I still draw from, especially now.”—Patti Smith, musician, author, artist
No. 23 — Make giving easy.
Alexandre Mars’s Epic Foundation builds charitable giving into everyday payment and saving structures.
Walk into the offices of French-born entrepreneur Alexandre Mars in the Flatiron neighborhood of Manhattan, and it won’t be long before he hands you a pair of virtual-reality glasses. “Try them on,” he says. “Then look around.”
Do so, and you’ll see a young child on a road in a Mumbai slum. Turn your head to peer around the corner, and you’ll discover a group of women gathered in a small classroom to learn about nutrition. High-tech tools like these are part of the future of philanthropy, says Mars, the 42-year-old investor dubbed “the French Bill Gates” by newspapers in Paris.
More than just showing off catchy flourishes such as the Samsung Gear VR glasses, Mars’s Epic Foundation—which also has offices in Bangkok, Brussels, London, Mumbai, Paris, and San Francisco—is facilitating more subtle, systemic shifts to make it easier for people to give. Rethinking traditional payroll donations, for example: Using a network of technology companies that provide implementation, Mars’s foundation helps businesses empower employees to choose how much to give, whether a percentage of their salary—as in a 401(k) plan—or a flat amount. It can even be as small as “whatever is after the dot” on your paycheck.
The foundation also manages what it calls a “portfolio” of vetted charities. Think of it as a philanthropic mutual fund: Instead of deciding on one charity, you can distribute among a range of social organizations, whether children’s legal help in New York, vocational training services in Vietnam, or educational opportunities for refugees in Germany. Epic’s approach has shown signs of success. In July, Christian Dior Couture signed on for its more than 1,000 employees. Other participants include London-based 17Capital LLP, a $2.35 billion private equity firm.
“A lot of this workplace giving has fallen by the wayside,” says Ray Madoff, a professor at Boston College Law School who specializes in philanthropy. And though payroll donations are a time-honored tradition through the work of groups such as the United Way, Epic is reviving the strategy with technology. “It’s great to disrupt industries,” Mars says. “Why not disrupt one of the oldest industries of all time, the industry of giving?” —Margaret Collins
No. 24 — Join a cause that connects directly to you.
Since 2012, model Christy Turlington Burns’s nonprofit, Every Mother Counts, has donated more than $4.6 million to improving birth outcomes. With grants that connect pregnant women and mothers to health care, train workers, and provide medical supplies, it’s affected 600,000 lives globally.
As told to Sara Clemence:When I think of traditional philanthropy, I think of wealthy people writing checks. And sometimes that’s the best thing to do. When I started becoming successful in my career, people asked me to get involved with different causes. I’d come on as a committee member, I’d support friends. And that was great for a little while—I learned about what types of philanthropy felt meaningful and right to me. Ultimately it taught me that I am the kind of person who wants to go deep on issues. I want to have connection.
When I gave birth to my first child, I had a life-threatening hemorrhage. I learned that postpartum bleeding is one of the leading causes of maternity deaths and felt like I had to do something. I ended up working on a master’s degree in public health and spent two years making a documentary, No Woman, No Cry, about the struggles women around the world face having safe births. Once the film was finished, I thought, This is a real contribution to this issue, anyone can use it.
Every Mother Counts started as just an awareness campaign. I felt like, All the world needs is another entity and another brand. But that forced us to look deeper, to figure out our points of difference. We got very clear about our goals: making pregnancy and childbirth safe for mothers everywhere, providing transportation to women, and equipping clinics with electricity and supplies.
Getting to where I am now was a process and journey. Spend time supporting other organizations to get up to speed and learn where you can really add value. Because once you jump in, there’s no jumping out.
“Bet on the person. In an early-stage organization it makes a lot of sense. In philanthropy it’s the person much more than the idea.”—Bill Ackman, CEO of Pershing Square Capital Management LP
No. 25 — Ask your friends for help. Or money. It’s not impossible.
Maneesh Goyal is a volunteer and fundraiser for Planned Parenthood, a global provider of reproductive health care.
As told to Chris Rovzar:I really began asking people for money in the 2012 election cycle. Like so many others, I had a visceral reaction to President Obama. In 2008 I wanted to get engaged like so many other young people, and in 2012 I really said I want to go all in.
Being somebody who has an outgoing personality I was very sheepish to fundraise initially. It felt like an awkward conversation. People tend not to talk about personal money. I basically taught myself how to do it, and even now I really hold by three rules:
- People are intrinsically good. You have to keep that in the back of your head. Your ask is coming from a good place, and regardless of the response to the ask.
- You have to give people an out, but not in the first request. If they express interest and they want to be involved, but hesitate, I tend to give people an out and say I respect that this maybe isn’t the right time. The out makes it feel like they’re in a safer space.
- Keep in mind that a nonresponse is a response. I have been asked for money, and I might not respond, and people will continually follow up. You know what? Everyone got your email. Don’t keep hounding them.
I got comfortable asking for money over time, once I recognized that it’s a purchase decision that is not unlike every other purchase decision. You want a reward, and you don’t want buyer’s remorse—be it a leather jacket or a car or a charity event. I started to recognize that I’m only going to sell (which is fundraise, in this case) for very worthy organizations or candidates. That means I’m going to give donors something—an extraordinary event, for example, where I’m going to make sure they have a great time. Or if it’s not an event, I’m going to give them a story that they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten. I’m going to give them a glimmer of hope in what feels like an otherwise hopeless time.
Yes, I’m asking you to spend some money, but you’re going to get something in return. You’re just buying something, but in this case it’s in support of some tremendous work.
No. 26 — Expand your tax advantages.
Mohamed Hamir is on the Los Angeles board of the Pratham Education Foundation, which in 2016 reached 350,000 schoolchildren in India by bridging gaps in the education system. It also helped train and place 18,000 young people in entry-level jobs.
When former Citibank NA executive Mohamed Hamir heard that Petals in the Dust: The Endangered Indian Girls would spotlight gender violence in India, including infanticide and dowry deaths, he knew he wanted to make sure the documentary got made. Funneling his support was easy once he connected with the film’s director, Nyna Pais Caputi. Hamir, who was born and raised in Tanzania but now lives in Orange County, Calif., used the single philanthropic vehicle he always uses, a donor-advised fund (DAF).
People interested in philanthropy can simplify their giving and get some tax advantages by contributing to a DAF such as those managed by Fidelity Investments or Charles Schwab Corp. The investment companies manage the growing pool of money, from which the account holder can direct grants to specific charities. The first formal DAFs appeared in the 1930s, but they’ve grown increasingly popular in the past two decades. From 2010 to 2015, the number of such funds in the U.S. rose to 270,000 from 180,000.
Most require a minimum initial investment of $5,000, and providers handle bookkeeping and reporting to the IRS. Hamir used Fidelity Charitable, an offshoot of the mutual fund company that’s a standalone nonprofit with low fees, to support the filmmakers. All the funds Hamir directs to the Pratham Education Foundation go directly to administration and training in India.
Using a DAF, a donor isn’t limited to a preselected roster of recipients: Any 501(c)(3) is eligible, though DAFs vet every grant recommendation to confirm legitimacy.
Money donated to a DAF is immediately tax deductible, up to 50 percent of a donor’s income. “It’s an excellent scheme for managing your tax liability,” Hamir says. “How can you not use such a vehicle to fund charities?” DAFs are more flexible than the foundation model, too—there is no set amount that a donor must put aside in a given year or that the fund itself must pay out.
Hamir, who’s followed Pratham as it’s helped teach hundreds of thousands of children to read and do basic arithmetic, would structure his giving no other way. “I don’t have to worry about how much money I have to raise in a given year; I can focus on how much I’m going to give. I am absolutely sold on this.” —Mark Ellwood
No. 27 — Have fun. It adds up.
Gabriela Palmieri, former chairman of contemporary art at Sotheby’s, is a private art consultant who lends her auctioneering talents to help raise money at events for Independent Curators International, Guild Hall, and the Bronx Museum of the Arts.
As told to Chris Rovzar:In these charity art auctions, the choreography of how you lay out lots or emotional appeals is very important. The really well-oiled machines plant bids by their big trustees, so you say you already have a bid of $10,000 or $20,000. Also I, as an auctioneer, have never been to an auction where I don’t say, “I will start the bidding here with myself,” whether it’s $5,000 or $500. That lends a sense of honesty.
You start with an item you know is going to have a lot of bids. A lot of these charity auctions are already up on online portals like Artsy or Paddle8, which field bids in advance. You like to have anywhere from five to seven lots in a live sale, which can take 25 to 30 minutes—that’s a long time to be sitting still. The closing lot is usually the main event, so it should be the one that will get the most bids and the most excitement.
That last lot usually gives you a running start into the emotional appeal. Often, there will be a “paddle raise” after an exciting live auction, where you just ask for donations. Once, when I did an auction for Maestro Cares, pop singer Marc Anthony’s charity for orphaned children throughout Latin America, everybody was given these wishes that were written by children who had been in these orphanages. It was unbelievable—one child wrote, “I wish I’ll ever get to go on an airplane.” It’s the hooks that make the gifts so important.
We try to keep them hydrated. I don’t mean with water. I mean with wine. Because if you lose that audience and everyone’s kind of sitting on their paddles, the energy in the room—once you lose it—it’s very difficult to bring it back.
Making sure everyone is having fun means the charity will make more money. The artist donors, the ticket buyers, the auctioneer, the director of the whole event: When done right, all those things come together and create exponentially more value for the cause.
To contact the authors of this story: Mark Ellwood in New York at me@mark-ellwood.com, Margaret Collins in New York at mcollins45@bloomberg.net, Sara Clemence in New York at sara@saraclemence.com, Chris Rovzar in New York at crovzar@bloomberg.net.
To contact the editor responsible for this story: James Gaddy at jgaddy@bloomberg.net, Justin Ocean
©2017 Bloomberg L.P.
