The End of Philanthropic History and that Pluralism Op-Ed

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In case you somehow missed it, the Chronicle of Philanthropy published a controversial op-ed on philanthropic pluralism last month, and in the weeks since, it has continued to stir up lively debate, to put it lightly. The piece has also generated quite a few hot takes in response, including a lot of sharp criticism that is well worth your time. But reading and rereading the original post, there’s something in particular about it that’s been bothering me that seems worth articulating.

It’s striking how strong of an “end of history” vibe it gives off. By that I’m referring to the much-derided concept, advanced most famously by political scientist Francis Fukuyama in his 1992 book “The End of History and the Last Man,” that liberal, capitalist democracy in the American mode is the final form of social organization — that eventually, inexorably, all societies and governments will trend in that direction. 

Suffice it to say, the past 30-odd years haven’t quite borne that out. From 9/11 to the 2008 financial crisis, from far-right nationalism at home to heightened authoritarianism abroad, events have proven the formulation shaky at best, preposterous at worst. 

But that didn’t stop the op-ed’s authors from advancing the case for a philanthropic status quo that mirrors the end-of-history thesis in a lot of ways. And that’s not a great look in an era of rapid change for the sector, with plenty of big-time challenges and disruptions surely still to come. 

In the article, six prominent sector leaders from across the ideological spectrum laid out a case for “philanthropic pluralism,” bemoaning the notion that in today’s polarized political climate, “foundations and philanthropists are often expected to pledge allegiance to one or another narrow set of prescribed views.” (By whom, they fail to mention.)

As an antidote, they offer a series of often questionable principles meant to maintain “respectful” discourse in the sector, along with quite a few statements that are pretty wild when you put much thought into them, such as, “Philanthropy as a whole makes its greatest contribution to democracy when all foundations and donors engage in the unfettered pursuit of their own mission, interests and prerogatives.” (Emphasis mine.)

While some of the op-ed’s points aren’t without merit, overall, it comes across as a more polite way of saying, “We’ll do what we want, so stop complaining.” And the backlash, predictably, has been swift. Nonprofit commentator Vu Le penned a pointed rebuke, calling the op-ed a philanthropic version of “all lives matter.” Center for Effective Philanthropy President Phil Buchanan asked why “the authors believe that endowed, private foundations — arguably the institutions with the most freedoms and least strictures in American society — are somehow threatened or that their leaders can’t speak their minds.” And many more philanthrosphere folks weighed in on Twitter and elsewhere with a mix of puzzlement and exasperation. 

Buchanan and others have mused on the op-ed’s origin story and why these particular authors chose to sign on. (The presence of Ford’s Darren Walker on the list has been particularly frustrating to some.) But what’s also striking, regardless of how this thing came to be, is the fundamental shakiness of its intellectual case. And that brings us back to the end of history.

One major problem with the end of history argument is that it underestimates the tensions and contradictions inherent in U.S.-style liberal democracy, which it holds up as society’s best-we-can-hope-for final form. The pluralism op-ed makes a similar misstep in its assessment of the philanthropic status quo. It’s striking that the ideological signifiers it deploys pretty much align one-for-one with those most associated with the end-of-history formulation. 

American exceptionalism is treated as a given throughout the piece, and democracy, capitalism and pluralism are treated as entirely congruous and noncontradictory. On top of that, we’re given multiple uncritical references to a “marketplace of ideas” (which NCRP’s Ryan Schlegel picturesquely derided as a “dreamscape”). And the laissez-faire spirit really comes through as the op-ed defends philanthropy’s “unfettered” pursuit of its interests and condemns “efforts by anyone to circumscribe or proscribe the programmatic prerogatives of donors or their foundations.”

Philanthropy’s current status quo is great, the op-ed seems to maintain, and all forms of disagreement are perfectly fine and welcome — so long as we all agree on that central premise. 

But all is not well in the philanthrosphere. Others have pointed out numerous problems and contradictions the op-ed disregards, such as the fact that some donors really do come to the game with bad intentions — like blatant promotion of their own economic self-interest or grantmaking that backs white supremacist views and hate groups. Criticizing them shouldn’t be off the table for the sake of pluralism and sector bonhomie. As Crystal Hayling put it in her broadside against the “civility” argument last year (which has drawn heightened interest in light of the pluralism piece), “Taking a stand for what is right by definition excludes being on the same team as those who champion wrongdoing.”

The op-ed also mirrors the end-of-history fallacy by glossing over the problem of resource inequality. Painting liberal capitalist democracy as some form of end state fails to account for the structural weaknesses of a system that concentrates money and power, leading to crises like the 2008 crash and chronic problems like wage stagnation and housing and healthcare insecurity. In the same way, calling for a “dynamic and open marketplace” of philanthropic ideas doesn’t address the fact that in such a marketplace, those with the most buying power — the biggest donors and foundations — get to set the terms of debates, nonprofit programming and movements, and deprioritize ideas they don’t care for by refusing them funding. When you take that into account, the authors’ preferred definition of democracy isn’t all that democratic.

This self-serving boundary-setting is exactly the sort of thing people outside the Global North have long despised about the policies of the U.S. and other “polite” western liberal democracies, and it’s exactly the sort of thing many folks inside the U.S. are fed up with when they rail against the political class and other “elites” — including, to a growing degree, philanthropic funders.

The post-Cold War American triumphalists got their rude awakening many times in the decades since the end-of-history idea was fashionable. If the philanthropic establishment wants to avoid the same, it’ll have to be a lot more honest about the extent of its own privilege and lack of constraint, and acknowledge the absurdity of equating rich funders’ “unfettered” pursuit of their interests with “democracy.” One thing is certain: History marches on, and so, too, must philanthropy.