The Lost Economics of Generosity

I don't want to be a bitter person. I like sharing my wealth, my food, my toys, my home. I do genuinely enjoy giving. When I bake a batch of cookies, I am sincerely disappointed when I don't have half a dozen friends over to share them with. At Yuletide, I'm more heartbroken when I can't give, than when I'm given nothing.

But damn it all, if bitterness isn't sometimes an appealing prospect.

If there is one thing I've learned in psychology, it's that there's no such thing as altruism. Anyone who erroneously believes in true altruism is a fool (read: Democrats). We do favors and are generous because we necessarily expect something in return. Instead of money, favors are the more malleable currency of "altruism." It is an informal trade system, and I'm starting to think the world has forgotten how it works.

Maybe it's because I grew up in the country. There, the neighbor you can count on for a couple of eggs or a cup of sugar may call on you next week to pull their truck out of the muddy road after a bad storm. Rural areas often have a culture of favor trading, because there are few other places you can turn to when in need, due to your consequent isolation. Perhaps it is because of the apparent wealth and resources of urban life that we seem to be forgetting the art of favor trading.

For instance, if a friend of my partner is having computer problems, they will sooner pay (and be horribly overcharged by) a professional than call on him to cash in a favor he owes them. The currency of the city is money, and favors are rarely cashed in. Moreover, for those of us who engage in favor trading regularly, it is sometimes difficult to cash in those chips, like presenting Deutschmarks in Spain.

Example: I call in a lot of favors from friends. A lot more than I honestly like. In the last four years, I have paid back only two favors — once transporting a mattress, and once pushing a broken-down car home. I was ecstatic to make good on these informal I.O.U.s (though I still owe both these good folks many more favors). I often think back to these moments, greatly satisfied with the knowledge that, for once, I was able to be there for them.

On the flip side: I'm not going to lie, I'm fucking starving right now. I ate nothing but buttered toast and chewable vitamins yesterday, and our attempt to get a pizza today fizzled. What I wouldn't give for a proper meal. Several months ago, however, my roommate was in a similar situation while between jobs. Having just gotten my financial aid in, and for once being comfortable enough to be a little generous, I offered to help her out with groceries so she could get through the next week or two. I didn't let her get to the point of starvation. Frankly, I will not have that happening under my roof if I can help it. Needless to say, the favor has not been adequately returned, and I am not convinced it's for lack of ability, with as much food and money as she wastes under our noses.

It is extremely frustrating when favors aren't cashed in, or if favors cannot be cashed in. When good people ask for favors, they want to pay that favor back. If not, they are merely mooches. When good people give favors, it is expected that they can get a favor (or at least sympathy) when they are in need. If their cries for help fall on deaf ears, they naturally feel fucked.

Enter: bitterness.

I have met too many people who are callous toward even the idea of "handouts" (read: Republicans). These are the people who fail to recognize this apparent altruism as just another form of trade or barter. In short, you do get something back for all your giving. I do not believe this hostility is at all healthy for our society, since favors are the original, natural currency of humanity.

Source: Charity Navigator

This hostility is bred by people who invest their "handouts"/"altruism" poorly, then never manage to get over it. It's the equivalent of a stock broker making one bad investment, then turning on his profession forever. People should invest their generosity in people they know would return the favor (regardless of how quickly they actually can). When able, people should invest their charity in organizations and programs they know (as personally as possible) produce results. There is nothing greedy about expecting returns on investments; the greed is in hoarding.

Popular, mythological perception of how karma works

But there is also an element of tragedy in seeing someone who is unwilling to — nay, terrified of — being generous. It hurts when good karma doesn't come back around to you, when all that "paying forward" results in net loss, and when that stack of uncashed I.O.U.s can't even buy you a loaf of bread in hard times. Once-generous people carry the bite marks of perceived mooches as personal battle scars, sometimes for as long as they live. Their range of willingness continues to wither over the years until they're not willing to reach out much farther than their closest friends and relatives.

They will be hard-pressed to truly know the joy that often comes with giving. In fact, their response to giving is more akin to PTSD. I was once in a car with someone very close, driving to Orlando, when we reached a toll. I convinced the driver to pay the toll of the person behind us, something I had always wanted to do. He was also in a dour mood at the time, so I thought it might make him feel better. Instead, as he drove away, I watched a bizarre cocktail of emotional reactions. First, he sped off, nervous and fearful that the other driver would be angry at what he had done. Before I really had a chance to grasp the complete absurdity of his fear, his mood switched to anger and indignation when he received no acknowledgment or gratitude from the other driver. His response struck me as deeply tragic, and I have had difficulty seeing this man as anything more than a broken human since.

It is, I believe, the natural state for random acts of kindness to be a warm experience for both the giving and receiving parties. Any other response is indicative of sociopathy, or some other psychological abnormality. While karma is as much religious mumbo-jumbo as Jesus or Buddha, the simulation of favor trading via random acts of kindness, even if in a somewhat religious fashion, is a healthy hobby to engage in (in moderation, of course).

This is not to say I refute my previous assertion that altruism is a lie. I'm simply saying that giving should feel good. When people stray from their erroneous faith in altruism and into an emotional blockade against the giving of so-called handouts, something has clearly broken in their social tapestry.

That said, one should neither give blindly, nor hoard endlessly. Giving to mooches and ineffective charities alike is like buying blood diamonds or recalled food; it's bad social investment. I resent the kind of people who give to massive charities with the goal of gaining nothing more than posterity, making such folks no better than the hoarders. They are often worse than the hoarders, wearing their charity like jewelry, accenting their vanity. Blindly donating to whatever charity is most convenient, popular, or, often, most pushy, is wasteful spending — there ARE bad charities. On a micro scale, many individuals are guilty of the buying of these modern-day plenary indulgences by feeding the panhandlers who feed on their unfounded guilt. On a larger scale, many major organization (like college sororities and fraternities) and large businesses (such as Publix) wave their charity flags like they're some cheap gimmick.

Source: Charity Navigator

 Hoarders are guilty just the same, but those who accuse them of greed are a dime a dozen, so I'll try to be brief: No matter who you are, you have a moral obligation to give. This statement would make Ayn Rand roll in her grave, but hear me out, I assure you it has a rational, objective basis. We are social animals and, as such, it is impossible to mature to adulthood without benefitting from either charity or the personal generosity of others. If you mature and become successful, you cannot be the sole cause of your own success. If you truly believe your success is entirely yours, I can't imagine you have any friends, since you can't invite anyone into your home for the size of your head. 

I do not mean to incite the unfounded guilt that provokes so many of the blind givers to atone for their wealth and success by giving pocket change to hobos and bell-ringers. Indeed, the wealthy and successful should be so proud of their status that they wish for everyone to have what they have (but, of course, not to the point where they have too much competition... no need to give away all your secrets to success). The key to fulfilling one's moral obligation to give is to choose your cause the way you choose your car or house: carefully, and with lots of research and shopping around. As I stated before, there ARE bad charities, and such money holes should be avoided. A good way to ensure that your charity or cause is good is to choose one that has positively affected you, or directly affected someone important to you. Of course such a choice is anecdotal and emotionally driven, and may deserve a little more research, but such charity is both rewarding and helps to create more success stories like your own. For example, my charity of choice is the Family Resources Runaway Shelter, and I derive great satisfaction from being able to give back to the people who gave so much to me in my most difficult years.

Well, karma is just superstition, but at least it's one of the fun superstitions
For the most hardened or blessed, finding a cause to rally behind with passion may take some soul-searching. But note that passion is not necessarily derived from suffering, and suffering does not necessarily deprive one of passions. There are always those in our lives who have had a positive, dynamic impact on us; some just have to look deeper to find them.