http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/executive-lifestyle/take-my-money-i-dont-want-it/story-e6frg9zo-1225798220677
Take my money - I don't want it
Toby Ord, who will give away a third of his income this year.
Source: The Australian
SITTING in his ancient flat in Oxford, England, the windows rattling in
the wind, Toby Ord appears to have all his marbles and to have suffered
no serious head injury. He hasnt joined the Scientologists; nor has he
been invaded by aliens from outer space.
In
fact, he has every reason to look forward to a long and happy life,
which makes it all the more remarkable that he has just pledged to give
away more than a third of his salary this year to charity. He intends
to survive — probably thrive — on a very modest sum.
What’s
more, he’s going to give away at least 10 per cent of his salary every
year until he retires. He’s 30. “It’s not self-flagellation and I’m not
trying to convert everybody to it,” he says disarmingly. “I just
thought, if my money could help others much more than it helps me, then
why not?”
It’s a good question and one that, as a
philosopher studying ethics, he has been chasing around for a long
time. After years of thinking about how he might best do good in the
world and many hours of research on practicalities, yesterday Ord
launched a society called
Giving What We Can.
The
essence of it is simple. Everyone who signs up has to make a basic
pledge to give away 10 per cent of their income — until they retire —
to whichever organisations they believe can use the funds most
effectively to fight poverty in the developing world. They can make a
further pledge to give away even more.
Ord, for
example, is promising to give away every year anything he earns over
£20,000 ($36,000), a threshold that will be raised each year by the
rate of inflation. On his present salary as a research associate at the
Future of Humanity Institute at Oxford University, that means he will
give away more than £10,000 this year.
“It’s
almost scary, a bit like stepping over a precipice, but it’s
thrilling,” he says. “I think I can live quite happily on what’s left.
I enjoy things that are quite cheap: books, beautiful music, spending
time with my wife.”
Maybe, though he does look as though his brain is burning up all his calories and a solid meal wouldn’t go amiss.
As
he describes how he’s going to impoverish himself, his wife,
Bernadette, sits nearby, smiling. The prospect of forgoing a pair of
Jimmy Choos or even just a frock from Monsoon does not seem to have
crossed her mind.
Ah, but Bernadette, 28, is a
junior doctor training in general medicine at the John Radcliffe
hospital. She’s going to be rich and able to keep them both. Doesn’t
that make it easy for Ord to indulge in his pledge? “You’re absolutely
right,” he says, beaming happily. “We’re very lucky. She has signed up
as well, which means she’ll be able to give away even more money than
me!”
No matter from what angle you come at his
proposal, Ord, who admits to having done “a silly number of degrees”,
has an answer. Isn’t it easy for him, living the academic life in
Oxford, to get by on little? “Absolutely. We’re very lucky here. It
would be much tougher for someone in a Glasgow slum. But I’m not
telling everyone to do it.”
Not that he is living
in luxury: his flat is rented, the hall is draughty and the kitchen
doesn’t have an oven. How do they get by? “We don’t bake.”
Okay,
then, isn’t the incentive of financial reward an important driver of
economic growth, which provides the means to do good? “Of course, but
people will still have an incentive. They’re giving 10 per cent — they
still keep 90 per cent.”
Isn’t aid in Africa
sometimes counterproductive? “Yes, it can be,” he admits. “That’s why
we want the money to go to the most efficient methods of helping
people.”
Ord has studied in depth the economics
and effectiveness of different forms of aid. Some are just as expensive
as the NHS in giving a person an extra year of good-quality life — at a
cost of about £30,000. But other treatments — for instance, those for
“neglected tropical diseases” such as worm infestations — save a year
of healthy life for just £2.
The son of two
architects, ethics man Ord was brought up in Australia and studied
computer science and maths at university in Melbourne. At Oxford he
moved on to philosophy, studying for a BPhil at Balliol College and a
DPhil at Christ Church.
The advantage of life as
a student is that you get used to living on very little, he says. “It’s
a long time since I shivered through winter in my college rooms, and my
circumstances have changed for the better.”
Surely
there’s a trajectory through life, I say, and people may not be keen to
give up 10% of their income as they grow older, with more
responsibilities. Again, he has an answer. First, he has no intention
of penalising innocent bystanders. If he and his wife had children or
had to care for an elderly relative, his pledge would be adjusted to
reflect such needs. Second, and rather more important, the whole point
of his scheme is to catch people early, before avarice takes hold.
“It’s
a lot easier to be idealistic when you’re young. If we can encourage
people to make pledges when they are young, it may help them to keep
giving as they get older. That’s the idea.”
He
points out that someone with an income of £24,000 a year is in the
richest 1per cent of the world’s population. Surely that is in absolute
terms, I object, and does not take account of differing costs in
different countries.
“No, that’s on
purchasing-power parity.” That’s why he wants the money to go to
developing countries — where it can do so much more than in the UK.
Ord
has partly been influenced by Australian moral philosopher Peter
Singer, known for his radical ideas about cruelty to animals. (“Don’t
worry,” interjects Bernadette. “Toby’s not signed up to the bestiality
stuff.”) Singer is of the view that we are obliged to help those less
fortunate than ourselves. Ord says: “I think there are some powerful
arguments in that direction. But I don’t judge people who don’t want to
do this.”
There’s no penalty for dropping out and
no shame in giving less than 10 per cent, he says. Although the scheme
is, in effect, a tithe on earnings, he has no religious leanings; nor
does he make any moral judgments on those who don’t participate. All he
wants to do is encourage. Already Singer and the political philosopher
Thomas Pogge have joined his society, as have a number of student
friends. “I didn’t ask them,” says Ord. “They just joined.”
Some
of his fellow Australians, who have been paying close attention to the
story, are less kind. “Clearly the man has lost his marbles. He’s an
idiot, in the precise sense of the word,” ran one website comment.
Surely
he’s tempted by something extravagant. A teensy-weensy Porsche? A few
bottles of Taittinger? Not really. Even with their modest budgets, the
Ords can afford holidays to the Lake District and Barcelona. In fact,
the only luxury he really seems to hanker after at the moment is an
iPhone.
“Given all the work I’ve had to put into
the website, and the response,” he says, “I think an iPhone might be
justified for efficiency.”
Comments
It's an inspiration to even hear of such people.
If only we could all live this way. It's just as inspiring that he's decided he doesn't need tons of material things to be happy, what an important lesson.
After Hurricane Katrina I wanted to give my guitar to an organization raising money for musicians in New Orleans. My boyfriend said, "you'd probably be better off just going down there and handing it over to a musician". I think he was right - giving the money directly is often better than trusting these huge organizations.
Lucy