Inherent giving, the five Ts and building things with people you love

I’ve always been a huge nature and animal lover. I remember one day in primary school seeing that you could become a junior member of the RSPCA for $5 a year. It was my first ‘aha’ moment, realising I could join with my own pocket money. I felt a huge sense of responsibility and pride, especially when I received the newsletter updates that shared what had been achieved by this community of young givers.

I had a similar moment soon after I left university and had my first entry level job. I was shopping in the mall with friends and joined the ‘sponsor a child’ program for a monthly donation. Again, it felt like a simple but profound moment for me, of realising “I can do this” and the huge joy in the letter writing and hearing their progress. In both situations, even though I parted with a relatively modest amount of money in an age-appropriate way, the satisfaction of making an impact was huge. 

Giving simply feels good! I believe that as humans we all have an innate calling to participate in community, so giving is inherently part of us and we are stronger together. If you look at the science, it releases feel-good chemicals in your brain, like oxytocin, which creates a sense of connection with others. Giving, in all its different currencies, connects us - whether it's in the home, the family, the church, workplace, or the wider community. Even the word philanthropy comes from the traditional Greek ‘phil’ which means love and ‘anthropo’ means humankind. 

By the time I was working as a professional in philanthropy and founded Atelier, the next gen philanthropy group at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, I was conscious that if I was asking other people to invest in the gallery then I should co-invest alongside them, so I made the commitment to donate the same amount as my peers - $1000 a year - out of my salary.

Later on, when I gained control of a small trust, I gained a much more significant capacity to give larger philanthropic gifts, but my giving was still driven from that same place of connection. And it became a social responsibility. I strongly believe that once your needs are met and you are living at a level of abundance or excess, there is a responsibility to redistribute and reinvest that back into the community.

As a mother, it's also about actively investing in the future. I want to see our children grow up in a thriving and equitable world. This recognition that we live in an interconnected world was also demonstrated by my parents. Their practice of philanthropy has had a strong influence on me.

There are so many ways you can give. I talk a lot about giving currencies as the five Ts: time, talent, treasure, ties and testimonies. I think people are typically familiar with time (volunteering), talent (skills, pro bono work), and treasure (donating), but not so much with ties and testimonies.

Ties is about bringing more people into the fold, so you keep growing the network. And testimony is the advocacy piece. It’s about championing and talking about the work you're supporting, which Australians are not necessarily very good at. I tend to ‘give’ with a whole ecosystems approach, bringing all of the above to the table.

One thing I’ve also noticed during my time with Atelier and Groundswell is more women giving. I've often wondered if that's because I am a woman and so my networks are female centric, or is it that women typically tend to engage and give more? I do love working with women though, and working with friends. If you build things with people you love, the authenticity shines through, and people will gravitate towards it and want to be part of it.

The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. It doesn't just deepen impact, it brings greater satisfaction and joy to share the giving journey with other like-minded people. Particularly in co-founding Groundswell as a giving circle funding climate advocacy. It has turned despair into action and eased the sense of overwhelm when it’s such a big existential challenge.

We launched Groundswell during the 2020 bushfires when there was a huge community outpouring of goodwill and donations. Against the scale of the climate crisis, you can feel like a drop in the ocean. But over the last five years, through the power of collective giving and pooling  community donations, Groundswell has raised and distributed over $6m into climate action, and that $6m has had tangible impact - from landmark policy shifts and corporate accountability, to stronger communities and growing public support for climate action around election times. 

Smaller gifts are really meaningful and are celebrated. So often, what makes the headlines in philanthropy is a million-dollar gift by a billionaire, but we need to spotlight the real heroes of our communities. I’m thinking here about the single parents raising kids on one income, who give to Groundswell, thinking about their children’s best possible future.  

We’ve also learned that real impact starts with recognising the power dynamics in philanthropy and deliberately shifting them. Lived experience must sit at the centre of decision-making, not at the edges. At Groundswell, we ensure First Nations voices aren’t just present but central to our grants process, recognising their leadership and knowledge as essential to meaningful climate action.

We don’t just need greater ambition in philanthropy. We need more people of private wealth stepping up and putting their money to work. Only 55% of Australians earning over $1 million make a tax deductible donation each year, which is significantly lower than the 90% of high earners in the US who make such donations. It's funny that when we talk about the ‘tall poppy syndrome’ it comes from a place of egalitarianism in Australia. Yet if we truly want more equality, we need to step up and take ownership of our giving so we can achieve that goal. Raising our philanthropic ambition is not just necessary, it should be celebrated as a cultural value that allows everyone to have a fair go.

Particularly in the climate space, as we near critical tipping points, we need a far greater sense of urgency and ambition. The idea of setting aside capital and making minimum annual distributions might make sense in other contexts - but as your money grows, so does the climate problem. It’s counterintuitive. Climate impacts will touch every philanthropic cause, from health to housing to the arts. The science is clear on climate impacts. Delay makes everything harder and more expensive. In climate philanthropy, timing is impact, because what we fund now determines what’s still possible later.