Exhausting Philanthropists Through ‘Donor Fatigue’

No society can achieve greatness without the goodness of philanthropists. But no society can stay great if it exhausts its most important philanthropists, draining them emotionally and depleting them economically, until there is nothing left for them to give and no reason for them to give anyone anything. Welcome, in other words, to donor fatigue: a very real phenomenon—as troublesome to the health of democracy as it is a threat to philanthropy in general—where we make those who are rich in goods feel ragged in spirit; where too many ask too often for too much; where the few, who give so much to so many, can no longer afford to give even a little; where altruism atrophies into apathy; where democracy dies not in secret, but in public, because of the public’s barrage of requests to philanthropists.

This is no letter of complaint. Nor is it an expression of regret, not when I have had the chance—and continue to seize every chance I have to give as much as I can—to better the lives of children, students, burn survivors, and stewards of the environment. What I mean to say, instead, is that technology makes it too easy to contact philanthropists; and social media makes it even easier to ostracize philanthropists—to transform them into social lepers—if they do not answer every plea with a pledge; if they do not reply to every email more expeditiously than is humanly possible; if they do not convert themselves into cash machines, lest the machines of technology—including Facebook and Twitter—turn against them with erroneous posts and egregious tweets that attack their character.

My plea, then, is for more individuals and institutions to exercise restraint. Let them police themselves, so they may be more selective about when—and for what reasons—they issue an appeal to donors. Let everyone know that there are only so many hours in a day for a philanthropist to balance public wants with private needs; that those who give, and I wish I could give more, also have responsibilities as husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, and sisters and brothers. Each of us has, or should have, a life with a room for oneself.

One need not be a philanthropist to experience donor fatigue. Ask a middle class couple what it is like to have a telemarketer interrupt their dinner, to have a stranger knock on their door, to have someone text them—to endure this simultaneous onslaught—without losing their cool or sacrificing their composure. Ask a business owner how many solicitations he receives, until he must hang a sign that forbids such behavior in his building or store.

Recognize, too, the difference between tiredness and fatigue. The former requires a good night’s sleep, while the latter all but demands many days and nights—whole months—of hibernation. Fatigue can be chronic, which is not conducive to helping society. Be mindful, therefore, of what a philanthropist can do.

We are no less immune to stress and anxiety than anyone else. We are no less prone to empathize with the ordeals of some and sympathize with the struggles of most. We want to help—and we do help—but there is a limit to how much we can help.

Help us work together, so we can maximize the power of philanthropy by making it more manageable for philanthropists to be philanthropic. Help us do our best, because society deserves nothing less than the excellence we possess and the possessions it is our right to donate for the betterment of our fellow Americans.

Elizabeth Rice Grossman

2 March 2018

Kailua, HI