I love Paul Brest. I have for years. Since the days when I was a consultant and he was my challenging client, to when he offered me a senior fellowship at the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation, to current times when he is a colleague, mentor, and friend.

I love that he is among the smartest people I have ever known and that he uses all of his intelligence for good. I love that Paul cares deeply about addressing big problems and social injustice with the most effective tools available. I love Paul’s steadfast commitment to results and his insistence on rigorous thinking and evidence informed strategies when it comes to promoting solutions for problems like climate change, global poverty, reproductive health, and educational failures.

All of Paul’s intelligence and commitments are on vivid display in his recent article. In his inimitable style, Paul enumerates rather exhaustively all of the complaints against strategic philanthropy—from the right and the left—and systematically debunks each. He impressively dismantles arguments such as strategic philanthropy doesn’t take risks, is too focused on quantifiable metrics, does not focus on the root causes of societal problems, and so on. After dispensing with these discontents, Paul basically summarizes his point in a sentence, “The case for strategic philanthropy ultimately is based on the belief that the intentional, systematic, and rational pursuit of an outcome increases the chances of achieving it.”

I pretty much agree with all of Paul’s article and argument. I especially appreciate how his thinking and work continues to evolve in response to lessons learned in implementing strategic philanthropy. This is illustrated by his referencing what he learned when president of the Hewlett Foundation about the importance of both quantitative and qualitative measures—as appropriate to the issues—and about the value of engaging in a kind of dialogue between analysis and intuition. I love that Paul is an ongoing learner and that he is non-ideological except for his commitment to outcomes.

The problem is that Paul’s argument is clinical in nature. There is barely a shred of emotion in the whole 22 pages. It is a fully rational treatise arguing for rationality. But, because it includes no acknowledgement of why we give—the feelings, the passions, the indignations, the painful hurts, and the deep loves—Paul may be right, but he is not persuasive. At least not persuasive to anyone who is not already inclined to agree with him. He leaves out all the feeling. It is like a cracker without the cheese.

Sure, he makes mention in the beginning of the article of the values and passions that may lead a philanthropist or a foundation to choose a variety of different causes. Those are personal and moral choices for Paul though, not for questions of strategy.

But, philanthropy, let’s remember, from the Greek, is “love of humanity.” Love is central to philanthropy, by definition. It should be central. That doesn’t mean we should be intellectually lazy in our philanthropy. To the contrary, we should be sharp and smart and full of passion. Strategy and passion are not in opposition to one another. They challenge, reinforce, and strengthen one another. The best argument for strategic philanthropy is perhaps an emotional one—that if we are smarter about how we give, we can help create a world where our children will not be hungry, their reading and math scores will improve and so too their life chances; where the homeless will be stably housed, living with dignity and able to meet their basic human needs; where hate crimes are eliminated and we no longer hear of black men’s lives taken for no reason, or young gay teens committing suicide because of relentless bullying; where art and music is plentiful and enriching; and where, around the globe, rivers and streams are clean and our planet is an altogether healthier place.

We pursue these goals for love of humanity. Evidence suggests that stories and relationships are more effective than data in influencing giving. So, perhaps advocates for strategic philanthropy would be more effective at bringing others into the fold if they told great stories, appealing to the human heart and spirit as part and parcel of rigorously pursuing a better world.

Strategic philanthropy, as articulated by Paul Brest, is about the most responsible use of philanthropic dollars. Even though he would never say it this way, it is also perhaps the most loving use of philanthropic dollars, because it treats so seriously the task of philanthropy—“the love of humanity.”

I just wish Paul would sometimes put that love a little more front and center in his work and not be so purely rational. Embrace the Greek roots! Speak to why we care.  Philanthropy is serious business, best executed with both a head and a heart. Come on Paul, show us the love.

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