Soviets Now Do Well Learning to Do Good

Perhaps the strangest manifestation of glasnost and perestroika is the emergence of Soviet philanthropy.

The very concept once seemed like an oxymoron. An official communist dictionary, as late as 1950, defined philanthropy as “one of the devices used by the bourgeoisie to deceive the working people . . . through a hypocritical and demeaning ‘helping out the poor’ in order to distract them from the class struggle.”

No longer. A recent tour of four Soviet cities uncovered a thriving charitable sector, in some ways as dynamic as our own. No longer dismissed as a bourgeois corruption, philanthropy is not only tolerated but encouraged. The emergence of viable Soviet philanthropy may in fact be the most interesting and far-reaching of the momentous changes now occurring.

Even with heightened expectations of the Soviet Union, our visiting delegation was unprepared for the wild blooming of nonprofit (their term is “informal”) activity. There are organizations for the environment, health care, the aged and disabled, scientific research, Afghan war veterans, theater, historic preservation, the professions and more--30,000 by one estimate. Soviet citizens now give as well as receive.

These are not new versions of “front” groups that used to operate for state-controlled purposes--the “sham philanthropies” as critics have described them. The new groups seem to be serious and effective endeavors providing real services and instigating real social change.

Examples: a “greens” movement in Lithuania stopped construction of a Chernobyl-type nuclear reactor; church-based charities provide companions for hospital patients; a soup kitchen in Leningrad; a Moscow foundation sponsors rehabilitation for Afghan veterans (in cooperation with U.S. Vietnam veterans); a national cultural organization intends to publish--independent of state control--a new 50-volume encyclopedia; a rapidly growing branch of Alcoholics Anonymous, and a new bar association to strengthen the professional independence of lawyers.

A meeting in Kiev featured a kaleidoscope of voluntary efforts--ecological bicycling, social photography, international cooperation among mental health professionals, underwater archeology, contemporary theater, science fiction. The variety of these efforts is testimony to the effervescence of nonprofit pursuits. Many of the groups reflect the personal visions of participants--some romantic, some idealistic, some pragmatic. A note I wrote to myself at the time: “We could use some of this excitement in our own nonprofit community.”

Where does the support come from? In a society with few rich people--we were introduced to “the first Soviet millionaire” at one meeting--the sources of funding outside government would seem nonexistent. Yet the major new foundations find support from individuals, foreign contributors, labor and factory organizations and, especially, cooperatives. These cooperatively-owned businesses now flourish throughout the country; they are mandated by law to donate a portion of profits to “charitable purposes.”

Informal organizations are becoming increasingly aggressive in seeking access to the estimated 450 billion rubles (about $700 billion using the official exchange rate) held in savings by Soviet citizens. The latest technique--Americans may wince--is direct mail.

One of the most inventive organizations is the Foundation for Social Inventions, led by Gennady P. Alferenko, a charismatic young geophysicist turned ballet producer turned foundation director. The group began as an experiment in the party’s youth newspaper; Alferenko and colleagues thought it would be novel to solicit ideas for social change from the public.

When people responded with an avalanche of suggestions--30,000 and counting--the group decided to organize, distill the best ideas and solicit rubles to realize the “inventions” in practice. In less than two years individuals have contributed more than 5 million rubles to their chosen innovations. They include the “Samantha Project,” a youth-exchange program named after Samantha Smith, a 1983 visiting American; a prison reform project and an urban gardens initiative.

The existence of such outfits would have been unimaginable a few years ago; the charitable sector reflects the dynamics of change in the political and economic spheres. At the same time, voluntarism becomes a major engine for further social transformation.

Hungary, where developments tend to foreshadow those in other socialist countries, now hosts more than 400 foundations. The emergence of Hungarian pluralistic forces must be attributed, in part, to the explosive growth of the voluntary sector. The same forces are at work in the Soviet Union--”tributaries,” as Alferenko calls them, “to the river called democratization.”

Socialist philanthropy embodies an important strength that expands, at least in emphasis, the function of philanthropy in the West. The U.S. charitable sector serves primarily as an expression of social conscience, justice and community-building. In socialist states it seems to serve above all as an outlet for self-expression, freedom and entrepreneurship. As such, foundations play a crucial role, bringing independent sources of thought and action into a one-sector system.

Yet with all its heady success, the nonprofit movement is still a fragile undertaking in a structured socialist system--and several dangers lurk ahead. One is that the exuberance of rapid growth will lead voluntarism into directions that dissipate energy into odd sidetracks (one high-level group of economists recently conducted long meetings with est-founder Werner Erhard). In the free-wheeling world of nonprofits almost anything goes at first, soon followed by hard questions of accountability.

A deeper danger is that mingling nonprofit agendas with political agendas--so carefully separated in the United States--will one day jeopardize the voluntary organizations. This is particularly true for nationalities movements combining cultural, economic and political aims within one informal framework. Although political and nonprofit movements draw from a common sense of pluralism and free action, retaining a distinction is important to preserve the special character of each.

Finally, there is the danger that the state could at any time reverse course. “Informal” implies a lack of full official recognition; everything from bank accounts to travel privileges to eligibility for contributions is vulnerable to further determination.

Fortunately, work has begun on developing a legal structure to regulate the philanthropic sector, aided not-so-incidentally by U.S. experts in nonprofit law.

In the end, however, seasoned Soviet leaders in the burgeoning charitable sector may not need much cautionary advice, being well-bred on lifelong struggles with an intransigent social system. A famous Lithuanian Jewish writer summed up his approach to current changes with a proverb: “When you enter the house of joy, don’t slam the door too loudly.”