Redistribute—and talk about it

I was recently in touch with a person who had unexpectedly come into wealth. After years of puzzlement about her family’s attitude toward money, it was revealed to her that the tiny “sparks” she had seen in one way or another over the years were thrown off from what she came to discover was a huge and growing bonfire. The fire metaphor is intentional—on the one hand, the money that she discovered was a way the older generation of her family had been able to stay, and keep her, warm and secure, protected from the elements—well-housed, clothed, fed, educated. But to her mind, it was a potentially out of control, destructive force, something that could burn down her own current family’s simple and balanced existence, rob her children of motivation, and obviate her need for purposeful activity. In short, it would turn their lives upside down. And probably worst was the sense from everyone around them that, in fact, they were the luckiest of all people and everyone would want to be in their position. Not untrue.

So these feelings seem to have led this person to want to divest themselves, as quickly as possible, from all of this taint. “A beast” she called the money. How to throw it off? Whether you can relate or not, as a person of principles and conscience, it seemed that the best outcome would be just to decide on someone in need of this money and give it all away, anonymously if at all possible, and quickly.

But here’s the thing—even without the sophisticated tax strategies that fuel an entire industry known as “wealth management,” it is hard to give everything away all at once. And most families like this person’s have an elder generation that have in some way or other worked to make sure the money lasts and is distributed over time. For this person, that meant that even if today’s allocation were “redistributed” (as she has come to call the giving she does), it won’t run out, and there will be another distribution coming along soon.

All of this pushes me toward a slightly different path. Rather than just “throwing off the beast,” I can’t stop thinking of the way to use this windfall to dig deep into philanthropic advocacy. That’s a totally wonky and Davos-esque phrase, but I mean it more simply, and with more human-scale intent than technocratic commandment. I mean that you could put your energy into getting in front of anyone you can who is in a similar position and help to bring them by way of joy to where you are (A huge shout-out to Resource Generation, Solidaire and others preaching this gospel!). This doesn’t mean that there isn’t a place for shaming—I love the story of Marlene Engelhorn and her efforts to have her inheritance taxed. And I agree with her that it’s just wrong for wealthy people to decide where the money goes. But this is not an either/or. While every person, including every wealthy person, should advocate for change to tax codes globally, each individual wealthy person would also do a great service to show the joy they experience in redistribution, as the greatest encouragement to get others to join them. Not just to give the money—to the greatest extent they are truly able—but to talk about it, share with others how it has made a difference and the amazing feeling you can experience by living with sufficiency rather than excess. Money IS like fire—essential, a gift, a way to create warmth and nourishment, something we all need—but also dangerous in the same way, something that we are better off sharing with care than using to burn down the world. Even without the resources of my own, I hope that I can influence others toward this path, and that together we can show, joyfully, that the benefits we all reap together are how we bring more warmth and less destruction.