It starts with the music at the supermarket. No more Ed Sheeran songs about being taken like a shot of Irish whiskey then spat out on the pub floor. No more Maroon 5 tracks about falling in love with the receptionist at the CoolSculpting spa. You don’t hear Imagine Dragons songs that sound like waiting for a hockey game to start. Suddenly, it’s Michael Bublé crooning to his “spicy little gingerbread cookie and a song called “You Can Take Your Wet Sweater Off And Dry It By The Yule Log (I Promise I’ll Keep My Eyes Shut)” that made a guy named Sol Horowitz so much money, his grandkids all went to Brandeis debt-free.
It all happens so quickly after that. Every media outlet publishes a gift guide, which includes a Wi-Fi-enabled waffle iron, socks from a new company which thinks there should be another sock company, and a Range Rover. Starbucks apologizes for its holiday cup, which when held upside down, appears to resemble the flag of Daesh. Multiple tourists die in a stampede at the Manhattan Superdry store. And then, finally, it’s Christmas.
With the passing of Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, Cyber Monday, and White Girl Wednesday, we are now solidly in Christmas season. But nestled between the doorbuster sales is humble Giving Tuesday. And as every Christmas movie where Craig T. Nelson breaks a wild horse will tell you, the holidays are not about buying stuff. Amid all the materialism, it’s easy to forget the true meaning of Christmas: 𝚐̶𝚎̶𝚝̶𝚝̶𝚒̶𝚗̶𝚐̶ ̶𝚍̶𝚛̶𝚞̶𝚗̶𝚔̶ giving.
One group being extra generous this year is trust fund children. An article in the Timesthis week reported on the growing faction of rich young adults who are redistributing their inherited wealth. Whether it was the phrase “socialist-minded millennial heirs” or the fact that this was being covered in the Style section, the whole thing stunk of a vanity project. My suspicion was that, for young millennials and Gen Z especially, flaunting unearned cash is considered tacky and uncool. The most socialist generation in history, the one which supposedly favors experiences to consumer goods, might be unimpressed by someone splashing on sports cars and designer clothes. So, there may be no cooler way to show you have money than to conspicuously give it away. See, look at this cool guy:
I began looking into Resource Generation, a non-profit affiliated with all of the article’s sources. Resource Generation “organizes young people with wealth and class privilege to become transformative leaders working towards the equitable distribution of wealth, land and power.” They identify people under 35 in the top 10%, then help them give their money away.
Resource Generation offers a “class privilege quiz” to determine your eligibility. It’s surprisingly long, and ranges from fairly standard questions about income to things like “You have a horse. A real one,” and “You chose to work a low-paying job (What up Hannah Horvath from Girls!)” Some of them are downright strange, like “You own clothing from Arc’teryx,” and “You’re preparing for the apocalypse.” It’s so sardonic that it comes off as gleeful. You can imagine someone grinning to themself in fake embarrassment and real self-satisfaction as they check off the list.
It seems that Resource Generation fixes a big problem for rich people: they desperately want to talk about how much money they have, but everyone would think they’re an asshole. Pictures on the website show RG members holding protest signs that say “My wealth won’t trickle down without a living wage” (🤢) and “Rich kids against poverty wages,” (🤮) while soyfacing like an Improv 101 team. Philanthropy is a time-honored way of acceptably announcing that you’re loaded. The great rabbi Maimonides understood this in the 12th century. He put donations where the donor’s identity is known on the fourth rung of his eight levels of charity. It’s better than giving begrudgingly, but still not great. This makes Maimonides one of the first people in history to acknowledge that this clout shit funny.
But the longer I think about Resource Generation, the less I find to criticize. Isn’t it better for rich kids to give their money away than to hoard it? It’s certainly annoying for them to be so loud about their inheritance, but at least they are trying to do some good with it. Many of the people in the Times article say they have advisors from marginalized groups who work on the frontlines to help them distribute their money most effectively. I’m sure that makes for some extremely awkward hangouts, but it’s ultimately a good idea. Is the whole thing corny? Yes. Cringe? Absolutely. But it’s not bad.
Perhaps the most interesting detail is who actually qualifies as the wealthiest 10% of young people. According to the RG website, anyone under 35 making more than $105,000 qualifies; people under 30 need $100,000 to be in the top 10%. Compare that to 1998, when the average net worth for a household under 35 was $103,400. Millennials have accumulated wealth at a drastically slower rate than previous generations. They own just 5% of total US wealth. In 1990, the same age cohort had close to 15% of the pie. Resource Generation is made up of trust fund kids because generational wealth is the only way someone their age could have enough to redistribute. The grave concern is not the uncouthness of the 10%, but the disastrous effects of inequality on the 90%. Redistributing inherited wealth, however loudly you do it, is an actual solution to that problem.
Maimonides listed eight forms of tzedakah for a reason. There are a lot of different ways to be generous; some better than others, but none of them bad. You can make fun of Resource Generation or criticize their approach, but they are walking the walk, which is more than most can say. They are literally putting their money where their mouth is. Even if you’re just a rich kid trying to piss off your dad, giving his money away is a better way to do that than getting a tramp stamp or going to Bard. (I imagine many have done all three.)
A recurring theme of Chazzy’s World has been to dig up shittiness and evil. It’s fun, important to do, and interesting, I hope. But there’s enough shittiness and evil in the world that I don’t need to scour for it where it is not. Perfect is the enemy of good. And right now, we don’t have any good to spare.
If you are looking to do some good this holiday season, here are two charities that mean a lot to me:
The Petey Greene Program: Petey Greene matches college student tutors with incarcerated people to help them achieve high school diplomas while serving their sentences. I volunteered with the program for several years at two correctional facilities in the Philadelphia area. During the pandemic, they are continuing to tutor remotely where possible.
The Bowery Residents’ Committee: BRC provides housing, food, healthcare, and pretty much everything else for thousands of homeless New Yorkers. Due to the coronavirus, they are unable to operate their shelters and food services communally, and are instead providing services to people housed in hotels. This makes BRC’s job much more complex and difficult and they could use some support.
Thank you from the Petey Greene Program! Your words have inspired a donation to the program. We thank you so much for your dedication as a volunteer and for sharing PGP with your audience. We are grateful!