Red-Blue Charity Divide

This column was written by CBSNews.com intern Arnie Seipel.

Arthur C. Brooks, who has written extensively on charity and civics, takes an interesting look at who is busy in the giving season — and who isn't — in his new book, "Who Really Cares."

Brooks looks at the familiar demographics of philanthropy, but also at how what we believe affects what we give. This book will and should lead to some hurt feelings.

Brooks' main point is that liberals simply do not give to charity as much, or as often, as conservatives. A key culprit, he argues, is the liberal belief that government, not private citizens, should be responsible for the redistribution of wealth. Therefore, wealthy liberals don't take it upon themselves to donate time and money to charity as frequently or as vigorously as conservatives.

Brooks points out that the difference between those who give and those who don't is not just a matter of a few dollars. People who give to charity donate proportionately significant sums of money. In fact, the number of donors who give less than $50 is similar to how many give over $5,000.

Religious patterns are also brought into the equation, and may have the strongest influence on giving. According to the book, religious Americans — those who attend services almost weekly — gave to charity 25 percent more frequently and volunteered 23 percent more often than secularists in 2000.

Brooks also notes that charity is strong in all religions, with about 90 percent of religious Americans, of all faiths, giving. However, it is not just religious causes that benefit from this trend. Religious Americans are more likely to give to nonreligious causes than secularists are.

Meanwhile, according to Brooks, impoverished families give away a larger percentage of their income than wealthy families do, and both groups give more than the middle class. This all fits into Brooks' ideological-religious giving model. He writes that, in addition to giving more, poor Americans were also twice as likely as middle class families to belong to devout religious groups such as the Seventh-Day Adventists, Pentecostals and Jehovah's Witnesses.

Brooks maintains that a charity divide even exists among those impoverished Americans. A 1999 study showed that each dollar of welfare — certainly not popular among conservatives — erased 57 cents that a family might have given to charity if they were making the same income by working. A 2001 investigation Brooks cited showed that families not on welfare were three times as likely as those receiving welfare to donate charitably.

"Although an increase in earned income drove giving and volunteering up, an increase in welfare drove giving and volunteering down," the investigation said.

Brooks shows how the virtue of charity should be cultivated by wealth. He presents the story of John D. Rockefeller, who believed his great wealth was heaven-sent so he "could be a steward of God's blessings on earth." He invested in libraries to educate, and thus elevate the poor. This helped to redistribute great sums of money, therefore helping the less fortunate. Such social causes are what Brooks points to as the kind of charity that "makes you healthy, happy and rich" since the economy as a whole benefits.

This type of charity is not dependent on income, however, since Brooks displayed that poor Americans give the largest portion of their income, and charity is not limited to cash donations. Families that cannot afford to give money, give time to charitable organizations — or even each other.

Brooks establishes a separate category of immeasurable "informal charity," which includes babysitting and cooking meals for neighbors — feasible and popular methods of social charity among the less fortunate.

Still, just because someone has money, does not mean he or she is charitable. For Brooks, the "impoverished rich" are "cultured, highly educated people, they have a tidy combined income of more than $150,000 per year. But life is expensive: They have a large mortgage, car loans, and kids in college." This class of people cannot forgo their $4.25 lattes in the name of helping a fellow man. And nothing about them appears uncharitable. For the impoverished rich, inner-beliefs, not any demographic measurements, determine whether they give.

Of these inner beliefs, faith closely aligns with ideology. But it is not a perfect match. The gaps in this alignment are telling. Brooks affirms that "secular conservatives are the least charitable group," while, "religious liberals … greatly exceed population averages," in terms of giving.

Brooks' focus on religion is out of sync with his ideological premise. Drawing a cross-section of the population, between religious conservatives, religious liberals, secular conservatives and secular liberals, Brooks makes it clear that while liberal and conservative beliefs may cause someone to be charitable or uncharitable, faith is the best determinant of who gives and who does not.

Still, what do the working poor, inordinately wealthy and religious Americans that Brooks identifies as the most generous have in common? They are conservative.

He maintains that what drives the charity divide is the liberal belief that government, not fellow citizens, should care for the less fortunate. This is summed up in one statistic — conservative households give 30 percent more money to charity than liberal households, but liberal families make, on average, 6 percent more than conservatives. Conservative giving was shown to be more generous in every income bracket.

This is not intended to be partisan invective. Brooks wants everyone to realize that they can give more, and they should give more. This is especially true during the giving season.
By Arnie Seipel