Consider the word “solidarity.” Beyond protests and social movements, it gets little of the attention bestowed on similar concepts such as freedom or justice. That’s unfortunate because the notion of solidarity offers a framework for rethinking democracy, activism, and philanthropy.
The idea of solidarity stretches back to Ancient Rome and the concept of solidarity debts — if one person couldn’t pay, others would have an obligation to cover for that person. The term didn’t morph into a political idea until the 1800s when a group of French thinkers argued that solidarity was critical to creating pluralistic democracies. The word’s striking etymology shows why solidarity is about more than a fuzzy feeling of togetherness. Solidarity has a material and economic basis, signifying that we are fundamentally interconnected — whether we choose to acknowledge it or not.
In our book, “Solidarity: The Past, Present and Future of a World-Changing Idea,” author and activist Astra Taylor and I argue that the concept of solidarity should be revived as a precondition for democracy. Like justice, liberty, and equality, solidarity is fundamental to creating a society where every individual can live a dignified life in the context of a thriving whole.
Solidarity isn’t unity or sameness. Just as a body has a heart, arms, toes, and a spleen, each of which is wildly different from the next, so society is made up of radically diverse components that form a community. And while we are all different, our fates are linked. As Eugene Debs put it: “While there is a lower class, I am in it, while there is a criminal element, I am of it, and while there is a soul in prison, I am not free.”
Beyond guiding us toward a more cohesive society, the notion of solidarity offers a new way of thinking about philanthropy.
Philanthropy is often motivated by semblances of solidarity — concepts such as charity, benevolence, and altruism. These ideas differ from solidarity in that they focus on the intention of the giver, who is over and above the recipient. Philanthropy-in-solidarity imagines donors as interconnected with their grantee partners. For example, in a world where the climate is changing fast, I as a donor benefit from organizations that are fighting for a livable planet. And while racism remains endemic, and where bigotry undermines social cohesion and erodes public goods, I as a white person benefit from anti-racist activism because it helps create a more equitable world.
Recognizing one’s own self-interest in this sense is not selfish — it’s leveling and equalizing because it places the donor and grantee on an even field as partners in a shared struggle.
My commitment to solidarity grew out of more than a decade of work in the philanthropic field and a lifetime as a close observer of it. Born and raised in a wealthy family, I discovered my role during Occupy Wall Street and the movement’s articulation that a society is fundamentally unjust if 1 percent of the population has a vast majority of the wealth while 99 percent struggle. Along with several other young philanthropists and foundation program officers, I became interested in forging cross-class solidarity in partnership with movements that are fighting to change the social, political, and economic structures that perpetuate inequality in America.
Philanthropy-
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n-Solidarity Framework
Funders interested in applying a philanthropy-in-solidarity approach to their own grant making need to start by assessing who is profiting from current societal systems and then develop strategies, in partnership with organizations on the ground, to outmaneuver and transform these structures so that they are fairer and more democratic.
Helping to rebuild the labor movement, for example, would be a good focus for grant makers adopting a philanthropy-in-solidarity mind-set. Labor unions are a counterbalance to the power that corporations wield over society and politics. Historically, America’s middle class was strongest when buoyed by unions standing up for workers’ rights. An organized working class ensures that economic benefits are well distributed, and when workers have political power and make demands for, say, child care or health care, all of society benefits.
Recognizing this, right-wing groups used tactics such as “right-to-work” laws to dismantle much of the country’s labor infrastructure. Today, however, labor unions are regaining power as workers across the country are once again fighting to unionize their workplaces. The Teamsters and United Autoworkers have won critical victories and are expanding their reach. Auto factories across the South, for example, are voting to unionize. But to succeed, they need to be joined in solidarity with a large cross-section of supporters. Philanthropy can and should play a role in this effort, which has the potential to transform the South and the nation.
Beyond Trust-Based Philanthropy
Because philanthropy-in-solidarity focuses on building institutions and coalitions that can alter the distribution of power and wealth, it amends, or complements, the practice of “trust-based philanthropy.” The latter has been an important step forward, as it similarly seeks to address the traditional power dynamic in which funders might meddle in grantee work or abuse their power to redirect a nonprofit’s strategy or goals.
But trust-based philanthropy runs the risk of falling into what Georgetown University philosopher Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò, calls “deference politics.” In Táíwò’s view, deference politics results from the admirable intention of recognizing the value of lived experience and the expertise of those closest to the problems. But it can lead to an emphasis on symbolic gestures such as who is in the room and whose voices are being heard rather than on challenging the corporate and political forces that sustain oppression and marginalization. Indeed, it can reinforce what Maurice Mitchell, national director of the Working Families Party, calls “neoliberal identity” — the idea “that identity is evidence of some intrinsic ideological or strategic legitimacy.”
Philanthropy-in-solidarity, by contrast, is committed to addressing the root causes of oppression and exploitation and prioritizing the participation of those who will be most affected. This starts with an analysis of power and the ways in which racism, sexism, and gender norms are used as weapons to divide and conquer progressive opposition and concentrate wealth and influence among the few. But the focus of the work is on developing strategies that lead to large-scale structural transformation.
In determining what needs support, philanthropy-in-solidarity draws on the historic lessons of mass movements that used people power to win major structural victories, such as the abolition of slavery, women’s suffrage, and the widespread adoption of an eight-hour workday and the weekend.
Two organizations I co-founded, Solidaire Network and Way to Rise, an intermediary funder focused on building a multiracial democracy in the South and Southwest, incorporate the concept of solidarity into all giving. We support nonprofits like the Debt Collective, which is developing the power of debtors to fight for relief from student and medical debt and to make education and health care widely affordable. We also fund independent media such as More Perfect Union, which tells positive stories about the working class and pushes back against corporate control of the information ecosystem.
Groups like ours aren’t afraid to cross the 501(c)(3) line and directly support political campaigns led by, for instance, the Working Families Party, which is electing community leaders into higher office who are then taking bold stands on issues such as housing and climate policy.
Philanthropy-in-solidarity would aim to undermine extreme wealth inequality and create a world in which rich overlords no longer determine what communities can fight for. Ultimately, this should make large philanthropic institutions obsolete. In the meantime, more funders should join us, in solidarity, as we continue the fight for equity and justice.
