Racism in Contemporary Philanthropy: Learning from W. E. B. Du Bois
I am currently working on a book that discusses the ways philanthropy perpetuates injustice, and I went back to look at this older piece I wrote in 2013. Still more relevant than ever.
I originally submitted the following piece in completion of a course on W. E. B. Du Bois taught by Dr. Cornel West that I took while attending Union Theological Seminary in the City of New York. When I graduated in 2013, I slightly rewrote the piece and pitched it to the Stanford Social Innovation Review (SSIR) and Inside Philanthropy. No takers—I present that un-updated piece here because though eight years have passed and the world looks different, the problems that institutional racism continues to create in our lives persist more violently than ever. Click the links to learn what the numbers are today for giving to people of color-led/serving organizations, and for leaders of color in philanthropy. Hint: not improved from the original references in this piece.
The philanthropic sector (including NGOs, foundations, philanthropists, and social justice organizations) in the United States provides 5.5% of the nation’s GDP (NCCS)—approximately $751 billion worth of output (Sherlock)—and employs approximately 10% of the United States’ workforce (NCCS)*. “A common perception of philanthropy is that one of its central purposes is to alleviate the suffering of society’s least fortunate and therefore promote greater equality, taking some of the burden off government” (Strom). Qualitatively and quantitatively, however, philanthropy in the United States suffers from the perpetuation of institutional racism which limits the good that it can do for “society’s least fortunate.” One of the obstacles to incorporating anti-racism into philanthropic efforts is a lack of understanding of the subtle ways that racism manifests in the industry and in those of us who work in it. Thus, looking at racism as both endemic to philanthropic institutions, and as a mode of thinking that individuals have (consciously and unconsciously) internalized, can offer an opportunity to change it. W. E. B. Du Bois’ critical works provide some historical context of the nature of institutionalized racism, particularly within institutions attempting to “do good,” and his keen insights are a lens through which institutional racism in philanthropy can be identified and rooted out.
Du Bois writes in The Souls of Black Folk that the “War Amendments [are what] made the Negro problems of to-day” (372). While the Reconstruction, particularly the work of the Freedmen’s Bureau, was a “curious mess” of violence, “despotisms…slavery, peonage…organized charity, [and] unorganized almsgiving” (Du Bois 379) it is no less true that the Bureau was “one of the great landmarks of political and social progress” (Du Bois 378). What made this true was the fact that “government and benevolent societies furnished the means of cultivation” (Du Bois 375) together, and even though the system was riddled with corruption, without it, “there would have been far more [corruption] than there was” (Du Bois 387). The Bureau was good, but it should have been better. Two of the Bureau’s most damaging shortcomings were a failure to establish “good-will between ex-masters and freedmen” and a failure to “guard its work…from paternalistic methods which discourage self-reliance” (Du Bois 387). Lack of positive race relationships and an absence of constituent self-agency remain a challenge in the philanthropic sector.
In the first part of the 20th Century, white people had “a conscious or unconscious determination to increase…income by taking full advantage of the belief” that “colored folk” are inferior to white” (Du Bois 649). Philanthropy is not usually considered an income-earning endeavor, but it is, and the institutional notion of race inferiority manifests in many ways reminiscent of the perspective of anti-Reconstructionist John W. Burgess. He believed “it is the white man’s mission, his duty and right, to hold the reins of…power in his own hands for the civilization of the world and the welfare of mankind” (Du Bois 1035). When the reins of power are philanthropic, the decision as to what problems to solve—and how—rest primarily in the hands of the philanthropist, while constituents—those we serve—are often “barred” from, and victim to, the conversation (Du Bois 1038). We know that a group’s self-agency is critical to effective philanthropy (Gish); yet the institutionalized paternalism toward non-dominant groups by the charitable volunteer nevertheless persists.
In a 2007 white paper published by the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy, it was reported that the net worth of billionaires increased $290 billion in a single year (Dorfman). At the same time, “foundation grantmaking for ethnic minorities [was] low and…not growing at the same rate as overall giving,” and “relatively few minority-led nonprofits [were] able to access foundation grant dollars” (Dorfman). When it comes to philanthropy, while I won’t deny there is conscious prejudice and racism in giving (the quantitative), there is a larger swath of unconscious racism, harder to name and root out than what is overt (the qualitative). The modern-day philanthropic industry is largely at the mercy of the “revered and sought after” philanthropist (Pieris 17), who has become an “exhibitionist model of social messianism whereby [h]e become[s a] hero…of altruism (Pieris 23)” instead of working in solidarity to liberate people. Teju Cole describes this kind of philanthropic activity as the “white savior industrial complex” in which well-meaninged white liberals overwhelmed with “social guilt” who “feel the unfairness and crime of color and race prejudice” (Du Bois 655) see a need that must be met, and meet it. However, there is rarely a thought given to reasoning out “the need for the need” (Cole). In this way, billionaires—and any well-meaninged white liberal—can be involved in the helping professions and do good thereby assuaging guilt about institutional racism, without actually relinquishing the power of privilege.
In the framework of philanthropy, to check, and root out privilege means working “not only for, but also with community members” (Gish). When people in positions of privilege (the white savior) in philanthropic entities actually listen to, and believe, what their staff and constituents are telling them, only then does it become possible to begin the work of anti-racism. It is important to note here that “white savior” philanthropy is not always a conscious act to perpetuate institutional racism, but rather the “result of inherited customs and of those irrational and partly subconscious actions…which control so large a proportion of…deeds” (Du Bois 696). Understanding racism in philanthropy as primarily a learned “unconscious” action should in no way be taken as apology or excuse. Rather, identifying unconscious racism when it erupts is a call to would-be “nonracists” to grow more aware of their own racism. While it is undeniable that conscious racist activities do, lamentably, exist, the proliferation of unconscious racism seems particular to the philanthropic movement. While the United States is no doubt in a very different place today than it was during the time W. E. B. Du Bois was writing the lion’s share of his works, contrary to the popular belief that the election of the first Black President of the United States denotes a racial sea-change, we do not live in a post-racism era (Madison), no matter how many white people wish we did. Unfortunately what we do live in is a society in which much of the socially damning and damaging aspects of racism have “gone underground”; “in the fight against race prejudice, we [are] not facing simply the rational, conscious determination of white folk to oppress [people of color]; we [are] facing age-long complexes sunk now largely to unconscious habit and irrational urge” (Du Bois 770-771).
Eduardo Bonilla-Silva gives shape to contemporary unconscious racism in his book Racism Without Racists. Most whites today “don’t see color, just people” and believe that all Americans would get along fine if “minorities (especially blacks)…would just stop thinking about the past, work hard, and complain less” (Bonilla-Silva 1). These “sincere fictions” of white liberals notwithstanding, statistics show deep inequality between whites and minorities in education, business, economy, housing, and law (Bonilla-Silva 1-2); and philanthropy. As mentioned earlier, “the steady withdrawal of aid from institutions” (Du Bois 399) that Du Bois identified almost a century ago continues today. “While grantmaking dollars on the whole increased nearly 70 percent from 1998 to 2005, grants designated specifically for African American populations declined dramatically from…3.8 percent…in 1998 to…1.9 percent in 2005” (Dorfman).
Tokenism and Intercontextuality
White liberal refusal (or denial of the need) to look inward and understand how our indoctrinated white supremacist beliefs inform our prejudicial actions even when we are “helping others” is simply due to fear. Fear that we will be called racist. Fear that we must relinquish some privileges. Fear that true diversity (inclusivity) means putting “the bottom rail on top” (Du Bois 386), and that we (white people) will be punished for the sins of the father. The unfortunate acknowledgment inherent in such reactionary fear is that we admit—consciously or unconsciously—that we are institutionally “the top rail” (note Bonilla-Silva’s social and economic statistics above), and we don’t want to give it up! Because the only way we can perceive no longer being the top, is to be the bottom. To become truly effective, philanthropic institutions and the individuals who comprise them must stop accepting the premise that anyone has to be “on top.” Until then there will be no real equity, only tokenism in different clothing.
“Many people believe that the racial/ethnic makeup of a nonprofit organization’s leadership and staff has considerable impact on the effectiveness of its programs and on its ability to effectively serve minority communities” (Dorfman). Yet few NGOs actually work toward inclusivity, and instead achieve an aesthetic version of diversity: tokenism can literally look like diversity and so can counter, on a surface level, any argument claiming an organization is suffering from institutional racism. As a development professional in the field for nearly two decades, I have heard organizational leaders countless times say, “we need more people of color on our board”; I have filled out board and staff demographics sheets for countless foundation grant requests. Both are fine intentions, but in looking only at aesthetics as opposed to identifying the inter-contextual makeup of the board and staff, and the service delivery process (is the organization in partnership with the community it serves?), organizations remain in a state of tokenism.
Visible racial diversity alone cannot bring equity to a philanthropic organization, particularly if the racially diverse participants, regardless of their position in the hierarchy, are all of the same economic class and social background (e.g. rural vs. urban, straight vs. queer, advanced degree vs. high school or trade educated, all able-bodied, etc.). One big step toward actualizing staff and board diversity is to partner with the most important group of individuals in the philanthropic equation: the constituents. “In every state, the best arbiters of their own welfare are the persons directly affected” (Du Bois 482). The building of real relationships between nonprofit workers and those seeking services—rather than those who “serve” acting as soldiers fighting a philanthropic war on “problems”—will help challenge an individual’s unconscious racism. Creating an environment in which philanthropist and constituent—and everyone in between—actively listen to each other creates empathy, empowers people, and facilitates the identification and satisfaction of real—not perceived or imagined—constituent needs. It is a start.
For many white liberals today, racism has become decidedly “un-hip.” Sadly this has not meant fewer instances of racism, but rather new “disastrous effects” of unconscious racism, like the newfound concept of “accidental racism,” “micro-aggressions” and the renewed vigor of ironic/satirical race-based comedy—funny because one’s “heart” is in the right place. What these mean in the context of a philanthropic organization is the idea that hiring departments can “keep racists out” simply by hiring white liberals, and not hiring white supremacists. This reinforces the idea that “racism lives in the heart of particularly evil individuals, as opposed to the heart of a democratic society,” and co-signs the white liberal “who might, from time to time, find their tongue sprinting ahead of their discretion” (Coates). An ideology such as this would be an obstacle to any organization wishing to learn from Du Bois’ criticism and accomplish more effective philanthropy, if only for the fact that a person “who knows not what she does” can be forgiven, but cannot necessarily be trusted to effect real change. Since trust is the basis of any sound relationship, a lack of trust brought about by unawareness of one’s own racism would prohibit building an inclusive, cooperative organization.
There can be no institutional change without individual change, and vice versa. In that regard, what the philanthropic industry has to learn from Du Bois is that workers in the industry must be vigilant about rooting out our conscious and unconscious racism, however ugly it is. White liberals must move away from guilt and denial of the contemporary manifestations of our shared history of white supremacy and name the racism (Smith). While admitting our blind spots may make us feel “un-hip,” (i.e. perceived as racist), denying them actually perpetuates more racism. What is called for is a deep, historical understanding of racism in America, and how it has morphed and changed over 400 years. No one born, or who now lives, in the United States is immune to, or “non” racist. We cannot be. Genocide of indigenous people, chattel slavery, and white supremacy is the infrastructure of our institutions and our psyches. Du Bois saw it then, and we can see it now, in the killing of Trayvon Martin, in the entrepreneurial philanthropic movement called KONY2012, and in Makode Aj Linde’s “misunderstood” African female circumcision “artwork” (Huffington Post). Furthermore, no one who has in some way been “oppressed” be it by sexism, homophobia, ablism or anything else, nor who is working for social justice, “gets a pass” on investigating the depth of our own racism—in fact, all of those conditions are a call to look deeper. And until we look, we will always be dangerous, to ourselves, to others, and to the philanthropic movement. As Eduardo Galeano astutely writes, echoing Du Bois’ notions of charity, “I don't believe in charity. I believe in solidarity. Charity is so vertical. It goes from the top to the bottom. Solidarity is horizontal. It respects the other person. I have a lot to learn from other people” (Brown). If philanthropists cannot or will not look at ourselves, and learn from those we serve, then philanthropy will never be anything more than its mere contribution to the GDP.
—MF
*These are pre-2013 numbers that have not been updated. Although more funds are being shifted toward “philanthropy,” that money is not exactly flowing toward people who need it. Read this short piece from the National Center for Responsive Philanthropy on philanthropy and inequality: “There is increased emphasis on financial intermediaries. For nearly five decades, charitable giving as a share of GDP has remained around 2 percent.[xv] Charitable giving has not increased from this vantage; it has instead shifted. In 1978, foundations received 4 percent of charitable dollars; by 2010, foundations were receiving 11 percent of charitable dollars.[xvi] In effect, the rise of philanthropy means that less is going “directly” to charity as a share of GDP, and more is moving to a larger and larger set of competing financial intermediaries. Additionally, more and more nonprofit organizations are offering to serve as these intermediaries. Many charities, including community foundations, churches, universities and hospitals, can sponsor donor-advised funds.[xvii]”
Works Cited
Bonilla-Silva, Eduardo. Racism Without Racists: Color-Blind Racism & Racial Inequality in Contemporary America. United Kingdom: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc.: 2010. Print.
Brown, Nathan. Seven Reasons Life Is Better with God. Wheaton Il: Autumn House Publishing, 2007. Print.
Coates, Ta-Nehisi. “The Good, Racist People.” March 6, 2013. The New York Times. Web. Accessed 6 May 2013.
Cole, Teju. “The White Savior Industrial Complex”. The Atlantic. March 21, 2012. Web. Accessed 6 May 2013.
Dorfman, Aaron. “Creating a Philanthropic Sector That Is More Responsive to the Needs of Diverse Communities.” National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy. September 25, 2007. Web. Accessed 4 May 2013.
Du Bois, W. E. B. Writings. New York: The Library of America, 1986. Print.
Gish, Clay. “Have you Asked Them What They Need?” Stanford Social Innovation Review. June 3, 2013. Web. Accessed 11 June 2013.
The Huffington Post. “Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth Cake Controversy: Swedish Minister Of Culture Slammed For 'Racist' Cake.” April 18, 2012. Web. Accessed 6 May 2013.
Madison, Armani. “Madison ’16: The Myth of a Post-Racial Society.” April 4, 2013. The Brown Daily Herald. Web. Accessed 6 May 2013.
National Center for Charitable Statistics (NCCS). March 18, 2011. Web. Accessed 4 May 2013.
Pieris, S.J., Aloysius. An Asian Theology of Liberation. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1988. Print.
Sherlock, Molly and Jane G. Gravelle, “An Overview of the Nonprofit and Charitable Sector.” Congressional Research Service. November 2009. Web. Accessed 5 May 2013.
Smith, Mychal Denzel. “White People Have to Give Up Racism.” The Nation. February 14, 2013. Web. Accessed 11 June 2013.
Strom, Stephanie. “Big Gifts, Tax Breaks and a Debate on Charity.” September 6, 2007. The New York Times. Web. 4 May 2013.