I’ve been a fundraiser since 1990 and so far, have raised over £3.2 Million for children’s charities. So, does that make me a philanthropist? Philanthropy refers to acts of generosity, which can include donating time, skills, or resources to improve the lives of others. Just like a few MPs and Royals, philanthropy has had some public relations difficulties, sitting as it does awkwardly between being noble and faintly suspicious.
In one way, philanthropy is all about giving, kindness and underlining the better qualities of our nature. On the other hand, it sometimes comes with a fanfare, plaque and noise. The phrase ‘He who makes the most noise, makes the least difference, whilst he who makes the least noise makes the most difference’ resonates with me and lands a very satisfying thump. It is a reminder that the true power of philanthropy is quiet, personal, and delightfully low on fanfare or platitudes.
Noisy philanthropy
The noisy version of philanthropy is one we all recognise. Even though I’m not a fan and I’m being critical, I do understand that for some it’s the mint sauce for their lamb!
Noisy philanthropy is all about kerfuffle and photographs in which everyone is smiling so hard it looks like cheese has seventeen Es in it. This form of giving is not mal-intended. Often, it comes from a place of goodness, it just gets a little lost, like a satnav having a meltdown. It’s driven by a genuine wish to inspire others. I’m convinced of it.
Noisy philanthropy can drift aimlessly into performance. When giving becomes a form of self-advertisement, the focus shifts and not always as subtly as the subject may have intended. The fundraiser becomes the story, whilst the charity that is doing the do, less so. Noise invades rooms, but often, the impact is surprisingly small.
Quiet philanthropy
Quiet philanthropy, by contrast, is deeply unfashionable and does not trend. I’ve been told many times I should blow my own trumpet more and make more noise.
It does not get a standing ovation. It does not even get a polite, parents-at-a-school-music-recital style clap. It happens in envelopes without names, in standing orders that quietly leave bank accounts each month, in mornings, afternoons and evenings spent listening to someone who desperately needs to be heard. This is the philanthropy that rarely makes the news, largely because it doesn’t get a fanfare of trumpeters. Yet this kind of philanthropy is often the kind that changes lives in real and measurable ways.
The irony
There is a lovely irony here. As humans, we are, by our very nature, needy creatures. We enjoy praise, applause and a sense that we have been terribly impressive. One could assume that quiet giving would therefore feel rather unsatisfying, like detailing your car to within an inch of its life and then locking it away in your garage. In fact, the opposite is often true. When we give without an audience, something curious happens in the brain. Well, it does in mine! As endorphins are released, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through the system, making us feel calm, connected and faintly heroic. Even if nobody else in the whole world knows.
Someone helpfully gave this feeling a name ‘the helper’s high,’ although that does sound a little bit dodgy. It’s the rush you feel when you help someone move a sofa or fill a skip. When you donate anonymously or pay for the shopping of the person in front of you, rummaging desperately for loose change or who simply doesn’t quite have enough.
There’s no applause, no outpouring of ‘look at me’ selfies on Socials. Yet your brain behaves as though you’ve just scored the winning goal at Wembley in extra time with only nine players on the field! It turns out that evolution has a soft spot for generosity.
In British culture, we’re much better aligned with quiet philanthropy. Although there will always be exceptions to confirm the rule, we do not, in general, enjoy declaring ourselves to be quasi-saints and worthy of consideration for beatification.
Quiet giving allows us to be kind without having to make a speech about it. You can help, really help, and genuinely feel the internal glow when you do. Then you can immediately revert to complaining about the weather and the cost of train travel, quickly restoring normal balance!
The phrase about making noise and making a difference (told to me by Sir Nicholas Winton … Google him if you don’t know who he is) also scales. Noisy philanthropy often favours grand gestures with huge comedy cheques; lavish surroundings and big names carved in stone. Quiet philanthropy tends to operate at a more human level and scale. It asks what this person needs right now, today, so they feel a little less burdened than they did yesterday. That might be money, time, patience or just proffering a listening ear. These small acts may not look impressive from a distance, but up close they are transformative. Think writing in block caps and cursive!
There is also to my mind, a moral clarity in quiet giving. When nobody is watching, the drive to do something is refreshingly simple and actions are more meaningful. You give because you can, because you know it helps and because it feels right.
The virtuous circle
The endorphin rush is not the goal; it is a pleasant by-product. The brain is always learning, and it won’t take long for it to begin to associate generosity with pleasure, which goes on to make future generosity ever more likely. It is a virtuous circle and one which happens in silence.
Large problems often require significant resources, and visibility can inspire others to act in support. The issue is not the noise itself or the maker of the noise. It’s the confusion that noise has on impact. A quiet donation that keeps a tiny charity or community project alive for another year may do better than a very loud announcement that briefly trends and then disappears into the digital fog. Like a firework. Plenty of crash, bang, wallop, but over way too soon.
In the end, isn’t philanthropy supposed to be less about being seen to be doing good, more about actually doing good? A little nudge in the ribs that making a difference does not require a megaphone. Sometimes all that’s needed is a decision, a small action, and a willingness to enjoy that very human rush of endorphins, glowing warmly, even when nobody else has a clue what you’re smiling about!
About Freddie St George
Freddie St George MBE is a Brighton-based business owner, publisher, seasoned franchisor with 25 years of proven success and a philanthropist.
He has spent 35 years with one foot in the business world and one foot firmly in the charity sector. His fundraising events have raised 3.25 million pounds for children’s charities in the UK and around the world. He was awarded an MBE for ‘Services to Charity’ by Queen Elizabeth II in her 2020 New Year’s Honours List. He lives near Brighton with his wife of 29 years and two adult daughters. Outside of business and philanthropy, he’s an absolute sucker for a classic Mini Cooper S. You can find him on LinkedIn.
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