Ancient Greek Philanthropy Beats Effective Altruism

The gods help those who help themselves.

When you think about charity giving, don’t just think of others, think of yourself.

With the collapse of FTX, many people have been discussing “effective altruism,” the philanthropic philosophy espoused by ex-billionaire FTX founder Sam Bankman-Fried.  Effective altruism, according to one of its main advocates, is all about "using evidence and reason to figure out how to benefit others as much as possible, and taking action on that basis." 

EA’s proponents would typically favor big-idea causes like global health, global warming, ending social inequality, etc.  Taking into account your own personal interests or preferences about what is beautiful or pleasing goes against the principle of “altruism.” Altruism is supposed to be about the other’s benefit, entirely.

It’s not about you, pal. Now take out your checkbook.

But there is an older, more classical way of gift giving that accords better with human nature, and may in fact produce better results.  It doesn’t require us to aim at some ideal of selflessness, or to mathematically calculate how much net “utility” our charity is going to bequeath to the entire planet.

In fact, you can consciously, and conscientiously, structure your gift giving so that you can enjoy some of the fruits, too, without diminishing the gift’s value for others.

Xenophon, a philosopher warrior of ancient Athens, understood this. Charitable giving is an age-old challenge, and he knew getting good at it involves skill and wisdom.  Consider how Xenophon mastered the art.

One day, Xenophon was entrusted with a huge sum of money.  He was one of the commanders of an army of some ten thousand Greek mercenaries, who had lost their leader in Babylonia,  and had to fight their way back to Greece over thousands of miles.

The army captured loads of treasure and prisoners along the way, and once they reached a safe place, they decided to liquidate their booty in the local markets.  First, the soldiers divided most of the cash amongst themselves. Then, they voted to leave 1/10th of the entire stash to the gods who had helped them - Apollo and Artemis.  They were grateful for many prayers answered.

You might say the army wanted to make a charitable donation, in the form of a tithe.  “Tithe” comes from the word for “tenth”: dedicating 1/10th of a financial windfall to a divinity is a very ancient idea.

The Greeks didn’t have charities or churches for their tithes.  However, they did have a lively culture of benevolent giving, and they knew that the gods were delighted when they saw people dedicating wealth to worthy causes.

When the army liquidated their assets, they were traveling through trackless wildernesses with suspicious local dynasts and bizarre savages.  The people were generally poorer and certainly less civilized than most of their compatriots in mainland Greece.  Effective altruism might suggest they magnanimously donate to these local needy people, in the form of a water well or a flock of heifers. 

The soldiers declined to do this. Instead, as mentioned above, they voted to give the tithe to the gods.  They entrusted the tithe money with Xenophon and the other Army commanders, and let them decide how best to honor Artemis and Apollo with the funds.

Here is what Xenophon ended up doing. Years later, after a harrowing journey home and many further adventures, Xenophon finally settled down on a nice plot of farmland near Olympia, in Greece.

He set about implementing his local giving plan.  With his share of the tithe for Artemis, he bought another plot of rural land near his house, and built a little temple and an altar on it.  

Then he dedicated the land, and everything on it, to the goddess Artemis.  He inaugurated a local religious festival in her honor, and every year, on a designated day, “the goddess” would invite everyone in the town to come and celebrate.  There would be hunting competitions on the grounds, for boar, gazelle, stags;  sacrifices (free meat); and complementary shares of fruit and produce for all festival attendees.

Xenophon, in other words, bought a tract of land near his house, and turned it into a sort of public park, which underwrote an annual public party.  “Dedicated to a god” is about as close as you can get to our sense of “public” in Greek antiquity.  It’s similar to how Gothic cathedrals were seen by medieval townsfolk as grand public monuments for all to enjoy.

“The goddess” provided supplies, from “her” land, for the yearly festivals in her honor - in other words, Xenophon’s investment-gift kept on giving to the locals.  They were grateful to Artemis for her bounty.

But it was no secret, locally, that Xenophon had bought the land.  And he got to enjoy some of the gratitude as well.  The goddess’ honor was in no way diminished by her sharing it with Xenophon.

Note that this is not the same thing as establishing a personal fund out of which you can host parties for people in your own name.  If Xenophon had been hosting the party himself, then it would have inevitably been a way to exert power and influence over his guests.  He would have put them in a relationship of direct reciprocity - no such thing as a free lunch, as they say.  He would have a favor he could call in.

If the goddess becomes the giver, however, the reciprocation is different.  As a guest to her festival, you incur a sense of debt to the collective, to the communal interest which the goddess represents - as well as to the moral order she upholds.  The gift thus has a way of multiplying its benefits organically, over and above whatever the land produces annually, through human social patterns.

Religion aside, though, it was a clever move on Xenophon’s part in another way.  I once heard Tim Ferriss get asked “what’s your real estate investment strategy?” He responded with something like: “own property where smart people want to live and visit.”  

This is very much what Xenophon did, with his tithe money.  On top of the local benefits, Xenophon got to invite his friends to come and visit and enjoy the public park. The new Artemis shrine, as well as his house, were just an easy walk away from Olympia, where the internationally famous Olympic Games were held.  They would come and visit for the festival, hunt with the locals, and bring Xenophon news of the goings-on in the wider world.

In sum, Xenophon’s gift brought him better relationships with friends and locals.  He helped himself while helping others, and the goddess helped him in return.

Classical philanthropy like Xenophon’s is not the only way, but it is a good way. Here are some key takeaways if you want to emulate this classical example of philanthropy.  Most effective altruists that I have met completely whiff on these:

• Create more beauty. Beauty improves the lives of anyone exposed to it.

• Embrace the Sacred.  Sacredness makes people feel a deeper sense of connection and meaning.

• Cultivate nature.  Tame wild nature, partially, to make its awe more accessible.

• Make it something you can show your friends.  Give them another reason to visit.

Your gift can be as extravagant as building a monument or a public park, or as simple as planting a tree.

Xenophon tells about his tithe to Artemis in Book 5 of his classic work, The Expedition of Cyrus (“Anabasis”).  Listen to the highlights of this book on the Cost of Glory podcast here.