The Passing of Chuck Feeney Raises the Question: Why Haven’t There Been More Chuck Feeneys?

When Chuck Feeney, who passed away earlier this week at 92, set out on his quest to give away nearly all of his wealth back in 1984, “giving while living” was hardly the staple of philanthropic discourse that it later became. Feeney transferred his 38.75% stake in Duty Free Shoppers to what would become Atlantic Philanthropies at a time when the predominant assumption among the super-rich was that, if philanthropy was even part of their plan, much of it would be carried out by successors, whether family, foundation boards and staff, or some combination. And few were in much of a rush to get the money out the door.

Those norms went mostly unquestioned over the subsequent decades, during which Feeney channeled upward of $8 billion from his foundation to a variety of causes — first in secret as an anonymous benefactor, and later with more publicity after the full scope of his charitable activities was revealed in 1997. Following that revelation, the so-called “James Bond of philanthropy” solidified his reputation as an outlier, becoming the “billionaire who wasn’t” — a figure of frugality who threw off the trappings of wealth to fly coach, rent apartments and go carless.

But what truly set Feeney apart from his peers was the fact that he actually succeeded in emptying the safe. When he signed the Giving Pledge in 2011, he’d already given away most of his fortune. Atlantic Philanthropies made its final grant in 2016, and the organization officially shut down in 2020. Atlantic says it’s “the largest foundation in history to intentionally deploy its entire endowment.” Feeney ended his life far closer, in monetary terms, to the humble circumstances of his Great Depression upbringing than to the jet-setting lifestyle he once dabbled in.

Feeney remained an outlier until his death, the one philanthropic billionaire who wasn’t, amid a growing throng of billionaires who still very much are. No less an authority than Warren Buffett said as much in a brief message posted on the Giving Pledge homepage after Feeney passed: “Chuck Feeney was truly one of a kind among billion-dollar philanthropists. No one in that category — certainly including me — except Chuck has given away sums which required that they change their own personal living standard.”

It’s worth asking why that is, exactly. How is it that out of all the super-wealthy folks who’ve signed the Giving Pledge, and among the many new billionaires minted in the U.S. every year, Feeney remains the only prominent example of someone who gave it all away?

There’s some truth to all of the reasons that people frequently cite. Take, for instance, structural factors favoring ever-rising wealth inequality, or the much-remarked-upon difficulty of giving away money well — or, as one noted critic of billionaires puts it, the simple fact that “plutes gonna plute.” But still, you’d expect at least a handful of figures on the Giving Pledge list, or the Forbes list, to have followed Feeney’s example, right?

Consider the seismic changes that have taken place in the world of big-donor philanthropy since Feeney embarked on his quest. The expectations are different: It’s far more the norm today to talk about giving while living, particularly in the decade-plus we’ve had the Giving Pledge, and there’s more overall criticism of the super-rich. Meanwhile, more foundations are sunsetting, and more megadonors are eschewing the traditional endowed foundation for hybrid models encompassing LLCs, DAFs and other modes that can let them get money out the door faster, at least in theory. Mega gifts are also in vogue (remember when a $100 million commitment was a really big deal?) and so are less restricted support and less stringent grant reporting requirements.

But in spite of all that, Chuck Feeney’s singular status remains. Among all the uber-wealthy who’ve signed the Giving Pledge, his achievement, if you want to call it that, is still unrivaled.

Come to think of it, maybe the Giving Pledge itself is part of the problem. While Feeney heaped praise on the brainchild of Buffett and the Gateses back in 2011, some argue the pledge has failed to live up to its initial promise. Few signatories actually manage to give away the majority of their wealth, and even highly philanthropic pledgers — like Julian Robertson — pass away with their billions very much intact. The pledge’s founders, meanwhile, despite the immensity of the wealth they’ve given away, have still failed to arrest the growth trajectory of their own fortunes. Bill Gates called Chuck Feeney “a remarkable role model,” which is hard to square with the $110 billion fortune Gates is currently perched atop. And there’s reason to doubt the feasibility of Gates’ and Buffett’s stated plans to empty the safe, even posthumously.

While the Giving Pledge has likely given overall billionaire largesse a modest bump, it’s easy to argue that signing on is now viewed as more of an achievement of its own than a starting point — less a way to forge more Chuck Feeneys and more a kind of bragging right for founders flush from their IPOs and with little conception of what it’ll actually take to make good.

Thankfully, the past several years have seen a billionaire philanthropist come to prominence who may very well “empty the safe” as Feeney did, and do it while she’s alive. MacKenzie Scott, 53, still has plenty of time to make good on her own pledge. And while her fortune still stands at around $35 billion, she’s making good progress, with over $14 billion out the door so far. And that’s to actual nonprofits on the ground, as with Feeney — not commitments to foundation endowments and DAFs that’ll stick around.

Nevertheless, Scott is herself an outlier and may remain one. Other megadonors have now had several years to consider emulating her much-lauded approach, and for the most part, they haven’t. The reasons why are a tale for another time, but my own suspicion is that for many titans of industry who go on to become philanthropists, the project of giving is clearly not about actually ridding themselves of wealth they don’t need, but a way to extend their personal impact on the world, a kind of second phase to their cherished business careers.

Feeney, however, did not share that philosophy. He was, in many ways, still a plutocratic figure — a driven businessman who enlarged his fortune via tried-and-true methods like stashing funds offshore to avoid taxes and public scrutiny. But in the end, it really was all in service of giving it away. If Feeney, a rags-to-riches mogul of the old school, could find a path toward doing that, is it so absurd to imagine at least a few of our current crop of megadonors matching his feat?

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