The drive to make philanthropy more evidence-based had a more controversial side too. A whole movement of “scientific philanthropy” sprang up (most famously in the form of the Charity Organisation Society in London), which railed against the ‘evil of indiscriminate charity’ and sought to impose a more rigorous approach to decisions about where and how to give. This did bring some benefit in terms of driving greater efficiency in the charitable sector, but it also drew strong criticism because the views of many advocates of scientific philanthropy were based on a moralistic view of poverty and a distinction between the ‘deserving’ and the ‘undeserving’ poor. [10]
This moralistic view of poverty is an important theme throughout the history of urban philanthropy, particularly in the 19th century. Although there were a growing number of people seeking to address the problems of the poor in Victorian cities, and keen to employ more rigorous methods in order to do so, they often brought with them many preconceptions about what the underlying causes actually were. Hence the proliferation of temperance charities, charities looking to rescue “fallen women”, religious missions and so on; all of which honed in on some perceived moral failing of the poor themselves as the key issue and sought to “rescue them from themselves”.
Those who held such views often went about their philanthropy with a religious or quasi-religious zeal, and employed methods that from a modern perspective seem incredibly obtrusive. For instance, there was a particular fashion for middle-class philanthropists (often women) to make house visits to the homes of the poor in order to see for themselves the problems and to offer well-meaning advice and support. In this context, the power imbalance that is inherent in philanthropy- between those who have wealth and those they are trying to help – was particularly pronounced. It is little wonder, therefore, that some came to be highly critical of philanthropy and to see it as a patronising and dehumanising way of addressing poverty.[11]
INEQUALITY AND FEAR OF UNREST
We should not be naïve, and assume that all philanthropic concern about poverty is always motivated purely by altruism. Often in the past there was a significant element of “enlightened self-interest”, as the donors realised that failure to address social problems associated with poverty would harm the wider fabric of society and perhaps lead to unrest and even revolt. The historian David Owen argues that this was a key motivating factor in the enthusiasm that was shown for philanthropy during the Tudor era:
“[The Tudors] steady concern with the eroding poverty of their age proceeded not from any sentimental concern for the poor but rather from an astute understanding that unrelieved, uncontrolled want constituted a grave threat to the stability of the realm. It is not too much to say that the Tudors viewed charity as a necessary aspect of public policy rather than as a requirement of Christian morality”[12]
Fear of unrest as a motivation for philanthropy has been a constant theme throughout the ages. At times of particular poverty or hardship it has particularly come to the fore. During the late 18th century for instance, there was widespread concern that the radicalism that had led to the French Revolution would cross the channel and cause similar unrest in England. Figures like the philanthropist Jonas Hanway argued that “the role of charity was central [because] only charity could mediate between rich and poor and act as a counterbalance to ‘all the evil passions of envy, covetousness, revenge, so frequent, so pernicious”.[13]
Later, during the Victorian era, the plight of Irish labourers (so-called “navvies”) became something of a philanthropic cause celebre, and it has been suggested that this was not entirely altruistic. The historian Geoffrey Finlayson argues that while philanthropic concern about this issue was “partly influenced by a genuine religious or humanitarian solicitude that men should have to live in such circumstances’, it was also driven by ‘the widespread fear that bands of navvies– whose style of life was, to say the least, robust – might constitute a threat to public order and to property as they move around the countryside’.[14]
At the start of the 20th Century, Winston Churchill argued that inequality, urban poverty and the unrest it foments was still a source of great concern:
“The greatest danger to the British Empire and to the British people is not to be found among the enormous fleets and armies of the European Continent, nor in the solemn problems of Hindustan . . . nor any danger in the wide circuit of colonial and foreign affairs. No, it is here in our midst, close at home, close at hand in the vast growing cities of England and Scotland, and in the dwindling and cramped villages of our denuded countryside. It is there you will find the seeds of Imperial ruin and national decay – the unnatural gap between rich and poor . . . the awful jumbles of an obsolete Poor Law, the constant insecurity in the means of subsistence and employment which breaks the heart of many a sober, hard‐working man, the absence of any established minimum standard of life and comfort among the workers, and, at the other end, the swift increase of vulgar, joy‐ less luxury – here are the enemies of Britain. Beware lest they shatter the foundations of her power.”[15]
The striking thing about this quote is that (apart from a bit of old-fashioned terminology) it could quite easily have been made today. Inequality and its consequences are once again at the top of the political agenda. Much of the analysis of the political events of recent times, such as Brexit, the election of Donald Trump or the wave of right-wing populism sweeping Europe and the US, has focused on the emergence of a disenfranchised and disaffected working underclass ─ often living in former industrial towns, cities and regions ─ and the extent to which their sense of being left behind by globalisation and liberalisation is a factor. In the UK and the US this dissent has, so far, been channelled through the ballot box. However, in other countries existing democratic systems have not proved sufficient, and the disgruntlement has spilled over into civil unrest and even violence.
The question of what role philanthropy can play in this context is a tricky one. Philanthropy's relationship with inequality is an inherently difficult one:[16] the very notion of philanthropy seems to require that there be haves and have-nots, and thus inequality is arguably a precondition of philanthropy. Can it, therefore, be effectively used as a tool to address inequality?
Put another way, can philanthropy be part of the solution to inequality, or is it always part of the problem? This has a huge bearing on the extent to which philanthropy can successfully help to staunch unrest, too. Historically, many philanthropists motivated by fear of unrest had a rather naive view that their giving would solve the problem because the poor would be so grateful for what they received that they would abandon ideas of revolution and be content with their lot.
As the historian Frank Prochaska puts it, “the ruling classes largely took it for granted that deference would flow from their philanthropy’.[17] Views of this kind would be seen as highly impolitic nowadays, however. Thus, if philanthropy is to have a role in addressing the underlying causes of unrest in our towns and cities, we need to have a far more sophisticated idea of how this would actually work.
WELFARE: STATE OR PHILANTHROPY?
One of the central elements in the story of philanthropy in the UK is the shifting nature of expectation about where the responsibility for welfare provision lies: with the state or with philanthropy? In broad brush terms, the arc goes something like this:
- Starting point: state took no responsibility for welfare (seeing it as the role of the church or the individual and their family),
- Gradually increasing state provision via the Poor Laws; which was seen as a divisive and punitive system.
- Backlash leading to the Victorian era, which can be viewed as a “grand experiment” of trying to provide a universal system of welfare through philanthropy
- Realisation that philanthropy unable to deliver such a system leads to calls for greater state involvement and eventual formation of full-blown welfare state after WWII.
- Initial assumptions that welfare state would spell the end of philanthropy proved unfounded. Some philanthropic organisations continue to deliver key welfare services; others recast their role, focusing on addressing deficiencies in state provision and using campaigning voice to drive improvements and wider social change.
- 1980s see the start of public sector outsourcing, and eventually lead to modern environment where many welfare services are commissioned by the state and delivered by charities, social enterprises and private sector organisations.
To confuse things further, during much of this time the line between philanthropy and state provision was at best blurry. This was particularly true at a local level, where the overlapping activities of multiple actors including charities, parish authorities, the NHS, local authorities and other civic institutions often made it virtually impossible to determine who was responsible for doing what. In many cases, individuals who were noted for the civic philanthropy also had many other roles that were relevant when it came to addressing the needs of the local area.
And it was often not clear (and perhaps not actually deemed important) which hat they were wearing in a given instance. We can see occasional echoes of this nowadays although it is less common. For instance, one of the defining characteristics of billionaire Michael Bloomberg's tenure as Mayor of New York was his willingness to use his own (considerable) wealth to address via philanthropy, many of the same problems that he was concerned with in his mayoral role. (For more on this see our previous discussion paper
Chain Links: The role of mayors in building a culture of philanthropy).
[18]
Given the extent to which the balance of expectation between state and philanthropic welfare provision has shifted over time, it is unsurprising that we have arrived at a point where there is often little clarity (and many competing views) about what the appropriate role of philanthropy actually is. This is often identified as a key stumbling block to developing a deeper culture of philanthropy in the UK. It is also cited by philanthropists themselves as one of the hurdles they face when they do want to give at a local level, because determining their role within the myriad of competing agencies and organisations operating within a given local area is often extremely difficult.
LONDON VS THE REST OF THE UK
Over recent decades the economy of the UK has become heavily skewed towards London. But the capital has long been a centre of wealth creation and, consequently, of philanthropy. In Tudor London, figures like Thomas Gresham and Thomas Sutton became famed for their generosity.[19] Philanthropy also became competitive, as Tudor merchants were keen to secure for themselves the most effusive eulogy when they died, and noteworthy charitable deeds were one of the most effective ways of achieving this. This had a knock-on effect on philanthropy outside London, as merchants in other regions read these eulogies and, keen to secure similar praise for themselves, followed the charitable example of these famed London philanthropists (often by literally copying their donations).[20]
But UK philanthropy has not always been about London leading and the rest following. At certain times in the past, particularly during the Industrial Revolution and the Victorian era, cities outside London became centres of huge wealth and power in their own right, and developed their own unique cultures of philanthropy and their own iconic philanthropists, as we shall see.
ICONIC INDUSTRIES, ICONIC PHILANTHROPISTS
The 19th century saw many towns and cities around the UK expand rapidly. Their growth was usually driven by a particular industry or handful of industries, and as a result many cities came to be synonymous with particular industries not just within Britain, but on the world stage. Gardiner, Martin and Tyler highlight the case of the North-West, where this phenomenon was particularly pronounced:
“Different regional and subregional groups of towns and cities become dependent on and propelled by particular types of industry. The most prominent such grouping was that of the Lancashire towns and cities. Lancashire had pioneered the factory production of textiles, helped by the combination of local coal to provide power, soft water, a damp climate, and the nearby ports of Liverpool and Manchester. By the mid-19thC the towns and cities of the region - especially Manchester, Liverpool, Bolton, Oldham, Blackburn, Preston and Burnley - accounted for two-thirds of world trade in cotton goods, the source of more than a quarter of the nation’s overseas earnings. Liverpool played a key role in this trade; indeed, in the early-19th century it claimed to be the second trading city of the Empire, after London. Meanwhile in West Yorkshire, a vibrant woollen industry was expanding, concentrated in centres such as Leeds, Wakefield, Halifax and Huddersfield.”[21]