Why People Suck at Charity

The English bourgeoisie is charitable out of self-interest; it gives nothing outright, but regards its gifts as a business matter, makes a bargain with the poor, saying: “If I spend this much upon benevolent institutions, I thereby purchase the right not to be troubled any further, and you are bound thereby to stay in your dusky holes and not to irritate my tender nerves by exposing your misery. You shall despair as before, but you shall despair unseen, this I require, this I purchase with my subscription of twenty pounds for the infirmary!”

—Friedrich Engels, The Condition of the Working-Class in England (1844), p. 279

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“Ooh, Heaven is a Place on Earth”

The French King Louis XIV (1638–1715) was, by historical standards, perhaps the richest person of his era—with stunning control over the French empire.¹ What’s striking, though, is that despite Louis’ immense wealth and power, most people in wealthy nations today wouldn’t trade places with him—his standard of living was just too low.

Sure, in some ways it might be thrilling to trade places with one of history’s most powerful monarchs. But it would also mean living without basics like readily-available fresh produce, antibiotics, the internet, or flush toilets. Faced with that choice, we’d likely decline. Perhaps someday, a few centuries from now, an average person will feel the same way about Jeff Bezos.

The middle class in many wealthy nations today is markedly better off than King Louis XIV was. One of the best-kept secrets is that even the poorest parts of the world have become significantly richer—especially over the last century—faster than at any other time in history.² By historical standards, most people in affluent countries live in a golden age. And yet, few realize that they live better than almost anyone ever has, or that they could easily forgo a small luxury to save the lives of desperately poor people dying from lack of food, water, or shelter. This raises a pressing moral question: what, if anything, do we owe to the poor?

Do the Poor Deserve More?

Over the centuries, theologians and philosophers have argued that we should give more to the poor if we can. Immanuel Kant famously argued that we have an imperfect duty of beneficence—an obligation to help others in need where we can, so long as doing so doesn’t interfere with other moral duties.³ This remains one of the most common Western views about charitable giving.

More recently—and more radically—moral philosopher Peter Singer has argued that we’re morally required to give far more of our expendable income to the poor than most of us typically do. He argues this is not supererogatory (a kind of moral “extra credit”), but morally mandatory. He uses the following thought experiment:

On your way to work, you pass a small pond. … You are surprised to see a child splashing about in the pond […] it is a very young child, just a toddler, who is flailing about, unable to stay upright or walk out of the pond. […] The child is unable to keep his head above the water for more than a few seconds at a time. If you don’t wade in and pull him out, he seems likely to drown. Wading in is easy and safe, but you will ruin the new shoes you bought only a few days ago, and get your suit wet and muddy.⁴

Singer argues that we should wade in. Even if we didn’t cause the child’s situation, we can easily solve it—at little cost to ourselves—and so we ought to. A child’s life doesn’t compare morally to a pair of shoes.

Now consider people living in abject poverty—defined as living on less than $2 a day. These individuals, like the drowning child, are at risk of suffering and dying from things like hunger, dirty water, or lack of shelter. And we, like the passerby in the pond scenario, could help them—easily—by donating our expendable income. That’s the money we spend on designer coffee, new gadgets, or extra vacation perks. It means little to us, but a lot to someone in desperate need.

This argument is strengthened by a core economic insight: diminishing marginal returns.⁵ The first unit of a good is worth more than the second, and so on. If Scully has no coat, the first warm outfit she receives is immensely valuable. The next is still useful, but less so. By the time she has dozens of coats, more have little or even negative value. This same principle applies to coffee, shoes, or other luxuries. A thousandth latte means little to you. But the same amount of money could save a child’s life:

When we buy new clothes not to keep ourselves warm but to look “well-dressed” we are not providing for any important need. We would not be sacrificing anything significant if we were to continue to wear our old clothes, and give the money to famine relief. By doing so, we would be preventing another person from starving. […] [We] ought to give the money away, and it is wrong not to do so.⁶

Singer argues that not donating—when we easily could, and it would save a life—is morally no different from refusing to save the drowning child.

The Threshold is Fuzzy

Singer starts with an intuitive premise: if we can save someone without significant cost, we should. But what about repeated acts of charity? Over time, each donation becomes harder. At some point, sacrificing more feels excessive.

This leads to a moral sorites paradox—similar to the “heap of sand” problem. Take a trillion grains of sand: that’s clearly a heap. Remove one? Still a heap. But repeat that a trillion times, and the heap disappears. Likewise, we agree that skipping one coffee to save a child is morally required. But if we apply that logic over and over, eventually we’re told it’s wrong to go to a movie, have a beer, or watch a football game—because that money could save lives.

That’s too demanding for most people. At some point, moral obligation turns into moral overreach. We started with a modest, intuitive idea, and ended up with a demand that feels impossible to satisfy.⁷

Why We Actually Donate

So if the philosophical case for giving is strong, why don’t we actually give more? The answer lies in psychology. It turns out we often donate not because our hearts are moved, but because of how it makes us look.

This is where signaling comes in. We care how others perceive us—especially when our reputation is on the line. Before we form relationships, start businesses, or build communities, we look for trustworthy signals. We’d rather go to jail or even die than be seen as a racist or a predator.⁸ Reputations matter.

Charity is a hard-to-fake signal. Like an expensive engagement ring, charitable giving broadcasts commitment and virtue. That’s why people often give to conspicuous charities—ones their peers recognize—rather than to the most effective ones. Many studies show that giving is heavily influenced by:

Visibility: People give more when observed.

Peer pressure: People give more when encouraged by peers or when high-status individuals give.

Sexual signaling: People give more when primed by sexual motivation or asked by someone attractive.⁹

In short: charity often serves reputational ends. That doesn’t mean we don’t care at all—if we didn’t, signaling wouldn’t work. But it does mean our motives are less altruistic than we’d like to believe. And because our charitable impulses aren’t primarily driven by effectiveness, we’re often bad at giving in ways that actually improve lives.¹⁰

What About Anonymous Giving?

A common objection: if charity is about looking good, why do people donate anonymously?

First, not everyone gives for reputational reasons. Some are motivated by personal moral identity,¹² or the warm glow that comes from helping. Second, anonymous giving can itself serve as a buried signal. As one study explains:

These donations are never fully anonymous. They are often revealed to the recipient, or to a small circle of fellow do-gooders. These observers are likely to infer that the generosity wasn’t motivated by fame or recognition, but by genuine virtue.¹³

So even anonymous giving can reinforce a person’s moral standing—perhaps more so than public giving. Either way, reputational dynamics still matter.

And that helps explain why most people suck at effective charity: what looks good often doesn’t do much good. As always, it’s easier to look moral than to be moral.

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Endnotes

1. Philip Mansel (2020). King of the World: The Life of Louis XIV. University of Chicago Press.

2. Angus Deaton (2013). The Great Escape: Health, Wealth, and the Origins of Inequality. Princeton University Press.

3. Simon Hope (2023). “Perfect and Imperfect Duty: Unpacking Kant’s Complex Distinction.” Kantian Review 28(1): 63–80.

4. Peter Singer (2009). The Life You Can Save: Acting Now to Stop World Poverty. Random House, p. 3.

5. Tregarthen, Timothy and Libby Rittenberg (1999). Economics (2nd Edition). Worth Publishers, p. 170.

6. Peter Singer (1972). “Famine, Affluence, and Morality.” Philosophy and Public Affairs 1(3): 229–243, p. 235.

7. Travis Timmerman (2015). “Sometimes There Is Nothing Wrong With Letting a Child Drown.” Analysis 75(2): 204–212.

8. Andrew J. Vonasch, Tania Reynolds, Bo M. Winegard, and Roy F. Baumeister (2018). “Death Before Dishonor: Incurring Costs to Protect Moral Reputation.” Social Psychology and Personality Science 9(5): 604–618, p. 604.

9. Kevin Simler and Robin Hanson (2018). The Elephant in the Brain: Hidden Motives in Everyday Life. Oxford University Press, pp. 205–244.

Haley Brokensha, Line Eriksson, and Ian Ravenscroft (2016). “Charity, Signaling, and Welfare.” Politics, Philosophy and Economics 15(1): 3–19.

10. Simler and Hanson (2018).

11. William von Hippel and Robert Trivers (2011). “The Evolution and Psychology of Self-Deception.” Behavioral and Brain Sciences 34(1): 1–16.

12. Sam Hardy and Gustavo Carlo (2011). “Moral Identity.” In S. J. Schwartz, K. Luyckx, & V. L. Vignoles (Eds.), Handbook of Identity Theory and Research, pp. 495–513. Springer Science.

13. Moshe Hoffman, Christian Hilbe, and Martin A. Nowak (2018). “The Signal-Burying Game Can Explain Why We Obscure Positive Traits and Good Deeds.” Nature Human Behavior 2: 397–404, p. 400.