By pulling back from funding social causes, the couple are helping to deflect the suspicious eye Americans have historically cast on the philanthropy of the super-wealthy.
The Chan-Zuckerberg Initiative, the $6.3 billion vehicle for the philanthropy of Mark Zuckerberg’s Facebook-based fortune, is said—by both the New York Times and the Washington Post—to be moving away from Progressive causes, demonstrating how “a billionaire’s change of heart can destabilize vulnerable families or local government finances.” But the decision by the head of Meta and his wife, a pediatrician, to “stop funding social causes”—including, per the Times, de-emphasizing “diversity, equity and inclusion” in the CZI’s own staffing policy—can be seen, when viewed in historical context, in a far different light: the couple are helping maintain the popular legitimacy of foundation-style philanthropy in a democratic society. Their emphasis on support for scientific research should be welcomed by those who understand that the philanthropy of the super-wealthy has, for more than a century, faced popular suspicion in America—concern that should not be dismissed.
By declaring their philanthropy to be “science-based,” Chan and Zuckerberg have undoubtedly shifted their giving significantly. When they established their initiative in 2015, they asserted that “Our hopes for [their newborn daughter’s generation] focus on two ideas: advancing human potential and promoting equality,” Mr. Zuckerberg and Dr. Chan wrote in an open letter about the effort to their newborn daughter, Max, at the time. They added, “We must participate in policy and advocacy to shape debates.” The Times summarized their support for low-income housing and schools for the disadvantaged as “a sprawling left-of-center philanthropic endeavor.” That included what was widely seen as a direct involvement in political action, when, during the 2020 election season, Zuckerberg (though not through the CZI) provided $400 billion directly to state governments to facilitate voting during the COVID pandemic—criticized as “Zuckerbucks” to boost voter turnout that helped Democrats. A careful UCLA study contradicted that view—but it took hold to the point that 28 states passed legislation banning private election system support.
One can, of course, take the cynical view that the CZI’s move away from “advocacy” is expedient—especially for a corporate executive in an industry that faces government regulation. But, even if that is, indeed, the Initiative’s motivation, those who applaud the tradition of American philanthropy—dating to Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller—should recognize it as prudent. The fear that those with great fortunes are somehow advancing their own interests—not those of a democratic society—through their philanthropy has a long history, as do legislative efforts to restrict it. From their outset, the earliest major foundations recognized the need for careful consideration of how they played their role.
When John D. Rockefeller sought a federal charter for his new foundation in 1915, he quickly encountered congressional pushback. The Committee on Industrial Relations, which had a broad mandate to consider the condition of labor in the U.S., considered Rockefeller’s motives suspect; in the aftermath of bloody strike-breaking in his Colorado mines, he was viewed as “laundering” his reputation with the charitable works of the foundation—and failed in his effort to gain a congressional stamp of approval. The way this played out for Rockefeller was a foreshadowing of the current state of affairs for foundations.
Led by a staunch Progressive, Missouri Congressman Frank Walsh, the Federal Committee on Industrial Relations issued an August, 1915, report asserting that the fortunes of a group of “industrial dictators” had been used to “control the education and social service of the nation” through foundations, which it described as “enormous privately managed funds for indefinite purposes” and “exempt from taxation.” Their powers, it feared, “are practically unlimited.” It is only a short step from such views to those expressed by Vice President JD Vance in his 2021 Ohio Senate campaign, when he criticized major foundations as “fundamentally cancers on American society [that] pretend to be charities, so they benefits from preferential tax treatment.”
Notably, Rockefeller himself, in an effort to hold off criticism, proposed a series of ideas to align the foundation with Democratic principles—including a time limit, a board that would include public officials, and limiting grants to scientific and medical research and other uncontroversial purposes—the latter an eerie foreshadowing of exactly what Chan and Zuckerberg have decided to do. It was that approach—which included such initiatives as Rockefeller University in New York (historically focused on medical research) and Andrew Carnegie’s famous support for local libraries—that ushered in a long period of uncontroversial acceptance for major foundations. That began to change in the 1960s for the same kind of reasons that Chan/Zuckerberg have become a lightning rod for controversy. Most notably, the Ford Foundation, through its “gray areas” program, piloted the idea of Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty. By 1969, legislation—following stormy public hearings, first led by Populist Wright Patman in the House, and later by Finance Committee Chair Russell Long in the Senate, both Democrats—led to the requirement that foundations disburse at least five percent of their assets annually and pay an excise tax on portfolio earnings. The idea of increasing the latter has been in play this year in the “big beautiful” Republican tax bill. The last period of similar controversy culminated in the decision of Henry Ford II to leave his eponymous foundation’s board, citing staff that “often failed to appreciate the capitalist system that provided the money the foundation gave away.”
So it is that one can understand the Chan/Zuckerberg decision to move away from policy advocacy, in favor of scientific research, in two broad ways. On a practical level—especially in the context of CZI’s support for private schools for the disadvantaged that have shown mediocre results—it reflects a data-driven effort to support work more likely to bear fruit. But in a historical context, it reflects a previous generation of foundation leaders’ wisdom—to focus on grants most likely to win public acceptance rather than generate controversy—and avoid being viewed as a threat to democracy. Those who care about protecting the legitimacy of major philanthropy should welcome CZI’s new direction.
