The Blue Sweater: Bridging the Gap Between Rich and Poor in an Interconnected World (23 page)

Our most frequent topic of conversation had to do with community, what it meant, how to foster and build it. John believed humans thrive in relationship to each other and that communities in which each individual feels a sense of belonging and of accountability are key to our individual and societal success.

When I was considering what to do after business school, my choices were to accept a fellowship at the Rockefeller Foundation to explore enterprise-development strategies for low-income communities in the United States or to move to Czechoslovakia to work on a fund that would build small enterprises in that newly freed country just one year after the fall of the Berlin Wall. With my tendency toward wanderlust, I leaned toward working in a new land during a historic moment.

John felt I should instead accept the fellowship with the Rockefeller Foundation. "It will give you an important vantage point on what philanthropy is, both domestically and internationally," he said. "And you already have worked in a developing country building enterprises. Life at your age should be about putting new and different tools in your toolbox. You already understand that communities today transcend geography and that you belong to multiple ones-Stanford, women, the community that cares for Africa. But to be truly effective, especially internationally, you must root yourself more strongly in your home's own soil. It is time for you to know this country, as well. Only by knowing ourselves can we truly understand others-and knowing from where you come is an important part of knowing who you are."

"Surely there are enough people interested in this country," I told him. "My contribution will come from focusing globally."

He shook his head. "You should focus on being more interested than interesting"-something I'd heard him say countless times. "What happens overseas is profoundly influenced by what happens here, especially now. And the reverse is true, as well."

Following John's advice, I accepted the Warren Weaver Fellowship at the Rockefeller Foundation and spent a life-changing year looking at microenterprise and small and medium enterprise efforts in the United States, and comparing them to what was happening in Bangladesh and India in the realm of microfinance. It was a year of sitting on factory floors in the Midwest, visiting Indian reservations in South Dakota, and talking to ex-prisoners working on an organic farm outside San Francisco. The same themes continued to emerge: Business was a powerful way to bring discipline and rigor to solutions that could lead to a greater feeling of independence and choice among people too often treated as invisible. And John was right: It didn't matter if the people lived in Bangladesh or Bangor, Maine. Everyone wanted the same things. And low-income people the world over were challenged by many similar constraints.

At the Rockefeller Foundation, I met another mentor, its charismatic president, Peter Goldmark. He provoked me to ask the big questions about what could be, pushing me to look decades ahead instead of at what was immediately in front of us-specifically, to envision how philanthropy should evolve. Already in the early 1990s, Peter felt we faced a number of ultimatums-big, looming crises that we could avert only through tremendous innovation and collective action. He urged greater focus on the environment, specifically energy. He feared the proliferation of nuclear weapons. He provided support to building deeper understanding of the Muslim world. He was a true visionary who believed deeply in our ability to solve even the toughest problems and felt that greater innovation in private philanthropy could help lead the way to public solutions.

When my Warren Weaver Fellowship with the foundation ended, Peter urged me to accept a job I'd been offered to help a new, anonymous trust give away $100 million in grants in New York City over a 2-year period. It seemed like a dream job to me. People worked their entire lives to give away so much money, and here I had the chance to be part of something that could be profoundly influential.

But I learned quickly that giving away money effectively can be much more difficult than making it, especially when decisions are made by a committee and not an individual. Moreover, philanthropy can appeal to people who want to be loved more than they want to make a difference. While the former is not all that difficult, the latter can take a lifetime to achieve.

I also discovered within 3 months that the most powerful person on the board was much more interested in the being-loved part of philanthropy. It wasn't that the money wasn't put to good use-it was given to a number of solid institutions in the city. But to me it felt like the organization was losing an opportunity for real leadership in New York. Through John Gardner and Peter Goldmark, I'd seen how philanthropy could effect systemic change, and I wanted to be a part of that change. Both men had also taught me to dare to dream big-and the experience with the anonymous trust taught me that large sums of money don't always translate into big dreams or big results.

I told Peter that I was leaving the philanthropic sector to start a for-profit business that employed low-income people. Philanthropy, I told him, was too frustrating a sector for me because there was so little accountability.

Peter wouldn't hear of it. "If you think philanthropy needs to be more accountable, then start something to teach philanthropists who want to ensure their funding has impact. Don't give up on this sector without trying to strengthen it, for goodness' sake."

It was impossible to say no to Peter.

I spent weeks in the Rockefeller Foundation archives, seeking to understand what had been done in the past and what might be possible in the future. John D. Rockefeller had established the Rockefeller Foundation with hundreds of millions of dollars he earned after founding Standard Oil. A devout Baptist, Rockefeller tithed from a young age. Over time, his wealth, combined with his sense of duty, led him to make enormous philanthropic contributions. He helped establish the University of Chicago, provided funding for Spelman College (the first college for black women), and helped establish medical research centers across China.

Even before he had a foundation, Rockefeller's work helped eradicate hookworm infection in humans, which flourishes in unsanitary conditions. In the early 20th century, children across the South were infected regularly with this disease. Rather than think he had the answers himself, Rockefeller brought together the smartest people he could find in the field and learned that hookworm was an easily preventable disease: If people would stop going barefoot to their privies, they could dramatically reduce the risk of infection. Instead of limiting their efforts to ensuring the widespread availability of treatment, the Rockefeller team concluded that what was needed was massive public awareness that could be provided along with a boost to the country's public health services.

The team launched a media campaign through radio stations and town hall meetings. Rockefeller used his clout to convince southern governors to install a public health official in departments in 1I states. In less than 5 years, the disease had been eradicated in the South and a system to deliver public health had been established, one that provided a model not only for the United States, but also for the rest of the world.

Peter urged me to look at the proliferation of wealthy individualsand this was prior to the dot-com boom. Already it was estimated that tens of trillions of dollars would be transferred from one generation to the next as the parents of the baby boomers died. Financiers were also beginning to earn sums that had been unheard of just a decade before.

"How can you help those who are interested in doing something important with their wealth?" he asked me. "What kind of program can you create that will help provide not only the skills, but also a spectrum of experiences that will enable individuals to understand issues and see themselves as part of the solution?"

After months of traveling around the country, discussing with philanthropists their own hopes and desires for learning, I started the Philanthropy Workshop at the Rockefeller Foundation. We would train a corps of philanthropists and provide them with the skills, knowledge, and networks needed to tackle tough problems. We knew our effort would be global; we would dive into many different issues and explore what had worked historically as well as what might be needed in the future.

Of course, I couldn't start anything until I spoke with John Gardner. I traveled back to Palo Alto to seek his advice. At a local coffee shop, I happily watched his deliberate movements, how much attention he paid even to making a sort of ritual out of a daily visit to a coffee shop. When John was with you, he was fully present. Though he didn't dress like a monk and could not have been more active in the world, he moved from a place of spiritual stillness that I craved in my own life. After listening to my dreams and plans for the workshop, he nodded with approval and said he thought it could make an important impact. Then he took a breath before imparting his thoughts.

"The one thing for you to teach," he said, "is that the most important skill needed is listening. If philanthropists don't first listen, they will never be able to address issues fully because they will not understand them. Second, philanthropists should focus on supporting others to do what they already do well rather than running programs themselves. There is such a disease among the newly wealthy especially, who think they are the only ones with good solutions. They should think about investing in great people in the social sector just like they invest in great people in the financial sector. That would help things a lot," he smiled, adding, "but the ego is a powerful burden."

I nodded in agreement, trying just to listen.

"Finally," he continued, "philanthropists should find innovations that release the energies of people. Individuals don't want to be taken care of-they need to be given a chance to fulfill their own potential. Too many projects create dependence that helps no one in the long run."

When I told him he was preaching to the choir, he laughed. "Then think about the choir. Think about community. People need to feel responsible to one another. Otherwise, we will breed successful individuals who don't feel connected enough to the greater society."

He paused and looked at me. "Think about how the middle and working classes fit into society. The intellectual elites who run society-the analysts and number crunchers and people who thrive on symbols and technologies-often have very little empathy for people with less. And when they do think empathically, they focus on the poorest of the poor and not the lower middle portion of society, though it is so critical to societal change."

In today's world, the elites are growing even more comfortable with one another across national lines, yet at the same time, less comfortable with low-income people who share their nationality. How we create those bonds of community that are truly global as well as national is one of this generation's great challenges.

I heeded john's advice and spoke to thinkers and doers across the country to put together a 4-week course given over a 10-month period. Each workshop would take 8 to 10 philanthropists who demonstrated a commitment to learning and to giving strategically. In the first year, they came from across the country, from Boston and Virginia, California and New York, ranging in age from 28 to 50, all with intrepid souls, to try a new course that included days spent in housing court in an effort to understand the perspectives of poor tenants and landlords alike, long discussions into the night, weeks away from home, and international trips. Today, more than 150 people from countries across the world have attended.

At the Philanthropy Workshop, we studied Rockefeller, of course, and Andrew Carnegie, another American industrialist who believed that men of great wealth had a duty to contribute to social, cultural, and economic life and improve the world. He wrote that "the man who dies, leaving behind him millions of available wealth, which was free for him to administer during life, will pass away `unwept, unhonored, and unsung."'

We read and discussed Aristotle and Socrates, Martin Luther King Jr., and Gandhi. We explored how best to make grants and investments, how to say no with grace, how to conduct a site visit, and how to understand nonprofit budgets. The idea was to ground individuals in substantive knowledge about issues and also to provide a framework for strategic thinking and moral understanding of how best to effect social change.

International trips were an essential part of the program. In India, we visited some of the most innovative programs in the country focused on education, on HIV infection prevention, on protecting the environment more effectively. The days were hot, long, and transformative. Two hours outside Calcutta on a 120°F day, our bus stopped in the middle of nowhere. We were on our way to visit an extraordinary community organizer to understand youth movements and the role of philanthropy in supporting them. The air was so hot you could see it. A few hundred meters in the distance, we saw a long ribbon of saffron along the pale horizon. Our guide pointed to the streak of color and started walking.

As we approached, we could hear ululating and singing. Gradually, we saw women dressed in oranges and reds and yellows standing in two lines, waiting to welcome us. As we walked through, the women danced and sang even louder, throwing marigolds over us. My white cotton blouse was streaked with the bright orange that seemed to melt into my skin and hair. The heat and passion and color and noise made me feel almost like I was hallucinating.

Inside the village, we sat together with the women and were handed cool coconut water-which had never tasted better. The women stood in the sun and made presentations about their work fighting for rights and for freedom. When they finished, they performed a beautiful Hindi song for us. The leader then turned to us and asked if we would do them the honor of singing something, too. All of the Americans looked at one another, none of us being used to spontaneously singing songs in front of strangers.

"Is there a song we all even know?" someone joked. Finally, we chose "We Shall Overcome." It felt appropriate, and at least we all knew the words.