In order to succeed as philanthropists, we need to better understand and accept the views of those who are in positions of less relative power. Now, that’s not impossible, but it takes deliberate, and sometimes uncomfortable, action.
Last week I wrote about how, over the last two decades, researchers in biology, neuroscience, and psychology have shown consistently that subjects with power lose a great degree of empathy as their power increases.
To put it starkly: research has shown that power literally causes brain damage.
This means that the same qualities that made us want to be philanthropic in the first place start eroding as we are propelled into a position of communal power.
We become less and less connected with the realities of the people we are trying to serve, and we become less and less permeable to their feedback (in the rare cases when they dare to give real and honest feedback). Little by little, we start believing we are infallible and we react badly to criticism and challenges.
It’s not surprising, then, that we tend to replace empathetic, field-based philanthropy with an aseptic version of strategic funding, conducted from the safety of our board rooms rather than from the trenches, where we could be interacting with real people that benefit or suffer from our funding choices.
In order to succeed as philanthropists, we need to better understand and accept the views of those who are in positions of less relative power.
Now, that’s not impossible, but it takes deliberate, and sometimes uncomfortable, action.
