2. they are stunningly irrelevant unless they provide real-time
guid-
ance to decision making in the tough world of philanthropic
choices.
The need for such guidance dawned on the trustees of the Treer
Family Foundation (not its real name) not long ago as they sat
Note: The case in this chapter was written by Diane Neimann
for the Council on Foun-
dations Family Foundations Meeting, New York, February 9,
2004, and distributed by
the Institute for Global Ethics.
76 IMPROVING AND STRENGTHENING GRANT MAKING
around their boardroom table. Judging by their faces, one of
their
longest-standing grantees, the Community Health Clinic, was in
serious trouble. The trustees of the foundation, the leading phil-
anthropic resource in the small city it served, were listening
intently to a report about the clinic from their senior program
officer, Charlene.
The clinic, a well-known local institution, was the sole source
of
health care services for the area’s migrant population. As an
organi-
zation serving impoverished outsiders, it regularly struggled to
break
even. Over the years, it had depended heavily on Treer, and the
foundation had been happy to continue supporting its good
work.
3. At Charlene’s request, however, clinic staff had provided
detailed
(although as yet unaudited) financials for the current year.
Look-
ing at them, Charlene spotted some puzzling figures that, as she
worked with an accountant from the Treer family office, grew
into
a major financial discrepancy. Alarmed, the two of them
followed
the trail, only to have it lead to what looked like some serious
self-
dealing at the clinic. The issue centered on two members of the
clinic’s board of directors, who seemed to have deliberately
steered
lucrative contracts toward firms in which they had significant
per-
sonal and financial interests.
Hearing Charlene’s report, the trustees were divided about what
to do. To disclose the self-dealing publicly could have the effect
of
closing down the already shaky clinic, which had no natural
con-
stituency in the community to speak up in its defense. The
result-
ing impact on the health and well-being of migrant families and
children could be severe. One trustee, Tom Treer, argued
strongly
against public disclosure. He pointed out that Charlene’s
informa-
tion had not come from an audit but from the foundation staff.
He
also noted the inherent unfairness of penalizing an entire
organi-
zation, and the community it served, rather than targeting the
two
4. errant board members for punishment.
But his sister Sally, the board chair, argued that the foundation
had a responsibility to other donors who followed its lead. With
its
commanding size and distinguished history, Treer was seen,
rightly
or wrongly, as providing assurance about the quality and
responsi-
bility of the organizations it funded. It was assumed that a grant
77FOUNDATION CODES OF ETHICS
from Treer constituted a kind of imprimatur, approving the
grantee
and promising some oversight of its operations. While Sally did
not
relish that role for the foundation, she accepted it as a fact. She
therefore argued that to preserve the foundation’s integrity, as
well
as to protect other donors from supporting organizations with
seri-
ous ethical challenges, the wrongdoers at the clinic should
publicly
be held accountable, and the major grant should be withheld.
The issues facing the trustees of Treer revolved around the need
to choose between two courses of action that were both morally
right: between Tom’s sense of compassion and Sally’s sense of
jus-
tice, his focus on immediate needs and her concern for long-
term
implications. Such a standoff between competing principles
char-
5. acterizes much of what happens in the foundation community,
where finite resources constantly compel difficult up-or-down
choices among excellent proposals, programs, or personnel.
These
are the toughest ethical decisions that individuals or
organizations
can face, where the choice lies not between right and wrong but
between right and right.
How is this relevant to a code of ethics? The guidance behind
both kinds of choice comes from something akin to a code of
ethics—a statement of shared values that can usefully be
applied
to decision making. For an individual, the guidance may derive
from core principles of character; for an organization, it may
arise from long-standing standards and practices. Behind each
lies
a core of widely shared moral values.
Recent events in the field of philanthropy reveal the need for
such values, particularly in issues dealing with right and wrong.
News accounts about self-dealing at some of the nation’s little-
known foundations paint brazen portraits of private fiefdoms
run
by family members who view the foundation’s wealth as still
their
own—despite the fact that the family took significant tax deduc-
tions during the transfer. Meanwhile, stories about excessive
perks
and lavish spending at some larger foundations are stirring
demands for greater self-regulation and stronger government
over-
sight of philanthropy. That is not surprising. In today’s general
cli-
mate of distrust of organizational integrity—evidenced in
corporations, government agencies, sports organizations,
6. schools,
78 IMPROVING AND STRENGTHENING GRANT MAKING
churches, and the nonprofit world—foundations too are being
held
up for closer inspection. There are ever louder calls from
philan-
thropy executives and outside observers for foundations to pay
seri-
ous attention to these right-versus-wrong issues—and, in
response,
a new $2.9 million initiative, announced early in 2004, from the
Council on Foundations to help foundation professionals adopt
ethical standards. Increasingly, foundation watchers are
recogniz-
ing that foundations need to ensure, more self-consciously than
ever before, that their ethical barometers are not falling into
neg-
ative territory.
Important as that work is, right-versus-wrong issues are not the
ones that most frequently face foundation executives and
trustees.
The persistently tough questions usually fall into the right-
versus-
right category, as they did at Treer. To be sure, a right-versus-
wrong
problem involving serious conflicts of interest had generated
the
trustees’ dilemma. But the trustees themselves had done nothing
amiss and were not subject to temptation. Their task was not to
cor-
rect their own wrongdoing but to find the proper response to the
7. wrongdoing of others. Their need was to sort out an issue where
each side laid legitimate claim to the moral high ground, but
where both claims could not be honored at the same time.
In these two sorts of situations—right-wrong and right-right—
codes of ethics can play crucial roles. A right-versus-wrong
temp-
tation, by definition, involves a tension between one course of
action in keeping with a set of values and another wholly at
odds
with those values. In that case, an application of the principles,
val-
ues, and moral standards articulated in a code of ethics can help
alert the unwary to moral hazards, steer action away from the
lure
of wrongdoing, and build recognition of the need for right-
doing.
Right-versus-right dilemmas, by contrast, involve a tension
between two powerful values that may both be on the code of
ethics. Tom Treer’s view focused on dignity and respect for
those
who (as the “Values” statement from the W. K. Kellogg Founda-
tion puts it) “are most vulnerable in society.” His sister’s
position
centered on the integrity of the foundation and the grant-making
process, squaring with what the David and Lucile Packard Foun-
79FOUNDATION CODES OF ETHICS
dation’s “Values Statement” describes under the heading of
“Integrity” as the need to “encourage the highest possible
standards
of conduct and ethics.” Both sides are right. But how the
8. trustees
negotiate their way to a choice between the two poles of this
dilemma—or, better still, find a trilemma option or middle
ground
partaking of the best of both sides—may well depend on the
guid-
ance they can derive from the long-standing ethical traditions
and
practices of the foundation.
Such traditions were an essential ingredient when, several years
ago, the staff of the Charles Stewart Mott Foundation in Flint,
Michigan, began creating its code of ethics. As they did so, they
found themselves in uncharted waters. “Ours was one of the
early
ethics statements,” recalls Phillip H. Peters, vice president of
the
administrative group and secretary-treasurer of the foundation.
With few other foundation codes to use as models, they turned
to the foundation’s internal documents. Ethics has been “part of
our doctrine here for years,” says Peters, part of the three-
person
drafting team that also included the foundation’s counsel and a
pro-
gram officer with strong writing skills. “So it was not that
difficult
to come up with a statement. Our biggest problem was to keep it
concise and simple.”
The resulting document fits on a single page. Telegraphing the
foundation’s ethical traditions, it leads with a quotation from its
founder, C. S. Mott, noting that “every person, always, is in a
kind
of informal partnership with his community.” It continues with
a
9. summary, short enough to be memorized and focused on three
key
moral values: “Respect for the communities we work with and
serve; Integrity in our actions; [and] Responsibility for our
deci-
sions and their consequences.” It then fleshes out that summary
with eight commitments:
• We are committed to act honestly, truthfully, and with
integrity in all
our transactions and dealings.
• We are committed to avoid conflicts of interest and the
appropriate
handling of actual or apparent conflicts of interest in our
relationships.
• We are committed to treat our grantees fairly and to treat
every indi-
vidual with dignity and respect.
80 IMPROVING AND STRENGTHENING GRANT MAKING
• We are committed to treat our employees with respect,
fairness, and
good faith and to provide conditions of employment that
safeguard
their rights and welfare.
• We are committed to be a good corporate citizen and to
comply with
both the spirit and the letter of the law.
• We are committed to act responsibly toward the communities
10. in which
we work and for the benefit of the communities we serve.
• We are committed to be responsible, transparent, and
accountable for
all of our actions.
• We are committed to improve the accountability, transparency,
ethi-
cal conduct, and effectiveness of the nonprofit field.
Discussions of early drafts with trustees and staff focused on
tightening the language, removing redundancies, and making
sure
nothing had been overlooked.
Has it made a difference? “I think it’s done more externally
than
internally,” says Peters. Internally, he said, the ideas were
already
“ingrained in our philosophy.” They have also found expression
in
a more detailed document titled “Grantee Ethics,” a kind of
code
of conduct for staff-grantee relations. Externally, however, the
doc-
ument has been held up as an example by the Council on
Founda-
tions and the Council on Michigan Foundations. Now, says
Peters,
“people look to us for leadership in this area.”
That ability to communicate internally and externally is one of
the principal attributes of a good code. Typically, codes operate
in
three ways. First, they reflect the moral history of the
11. organization.
The most effective codes do not spring into being ab ovo.
Instead,
they recognize and formalize the elements of ethical concern
and
the patterns of values-based decision making that have grown
up
over time in the organization. For that reason, organizations
emerging from serious ethical disarray often find that merely
adopting a code of ethics is of little help. For that reason, too,
orga-
nizations with strong ethical traditions find that building a code
of
ethics is simply one step toward a successful ethics program.
Second, codes define an organization’s shared moral values in
succinct, nonspecialist language. Those values typically bear
close
resemblance to the five shared values—respect, responsibility,
hon-
esty, fairness, and compassion—that the Institute for Global
Ethics
81FOUNDATION CODES OF ETHICS
finds are common to cultures everywhere around the world.
These
values tend to be more aspirational than descriptive, telling us
more
about the direction the foundation wishes to go than the place it
already occupies. When the Charles Stewart Mott Foundation,
for
instance, lists “respect” as a key element of its code, it lays no
claim
12. to perfection. It holds out no guarantee that its staff will never
be
accused of disrespectful behavior. But it does undertake to put
respect in a priority position and strive toward ever-higher
expres-
sions of that powerful value.
Finally, codes communicate those values both internally and
externally. They speak to both the users within the foundation,
who
turn to them for guidance, inspiration, or justification, and to
onlookers from outside, who seek assurance that the foundation
not
only cares about ethics but is willing to commit to a public
stand
for right. Communicating that commitment may be as simple as
a
posting on a Web page or as robust as a laminated wallet card
accompanying a new-employee orientation session and an
ongoing
training program. Either way, the language of the code is of
crucial
importance. Codes that bristle with extensive and proscriptive
reg-
ulations find little readership beyond those called on to enforce
them. By contrast, codes that speak in ordinary language,
organized
in logical patterns and with a memorable message, can have
wide-
reaching impact. Communication is crucial: a code uncommuni-
cated is tantamount to no code at all.
If the Treer trustees had had a code of ethics in place, would
they
have deliberated any differently about their dilemma? Maybe
not.
13. If the trustees had a long tradition of probing ethical discourse
at
their meetings—or if, by contrast, they had no understanding of
the ethical dimensions of their behavior and no interest in
devel-
oping it, a code alone might have made little difference. But
few
boards live at these extremes. Most operate in a middle range
where they have some experience with ethical issues and realize
the
importance of ethical decision making but need tools and frame-
works for moving forward.
A code of ethics provides rudimentary tools and frameworks. At
the very least, it should help Tom recognize that Sally’s
position is,
like his, highly ethical and help her do the same for him. After
all,
82 IMPROVING AND STRENGTHENING GRANT MAKING
each can trace the other’s views directly back to statements in a
code that was agreed on by the board in quieter and more reflec-
tive moments and that commits the trustees to seeking guidance
in
a fully rounded set of ethical values.
The following points are useful in building a code of ethics:
• The best code is a brief code. It should be crisp, concise,
portable, even memorizable.
• A code of ethics is a statement of shared moral values. It
should articulate general principles, without trying to cover
14. every
exigency that might arise.
• Ethics has been described as “obedience to the unenforce-
able.” Law, by contrast, is eminently enforceable. A code of
ethics
provides broad guidelines, not narrow regulations. It should not
read like a set of ordinances or require legal expertise to
interpret.
• A code of ethics should be positive, not negative. It should
address commitment to honesty, for example, rather than
intoler-
ance for dishonesty. Resist off-putting proscriptions and school-
marm hectoring.
• Codes are not mottos meant to market ideas in catchy sound
bites. They are not mission statements that define future objec-
tives. They are not vision statements articulating lofty ideals
worth
striving for but rarely reached. No code should carry more than
it
can bear.
• For the broadest buy-in, the code of ethics should focus on
universal values such as honesty, responsibility, respect,
fairness,
and compassion. It should not be a statement of organizational
strategy. Save such words as learning, results, personnel,
flexibility, and
focus for other foundation-generated documents accompanying
the
code and addressing commitment to standards of best practice.
Again, let the code be just the code.
• A code of conduct is a useful adjunct to a code of ethics.
15. Codes
of conduct can be quite specific, discussing self-dealing,
nepotism,
trustee compensation, conflict of interest, transparency, donor
intent, and other foundation-specific issues. Consider having
both.
• Building a code is more important than having a code. A code
of ethics requires revisiting, so that new staff and trustees feel
as
83FOUNDATION CODES OF ETHICS
passionate about it as those who put it together. Having a
simple
training program, and designating someone to pay special atten-
tion to ethical issues, can help ensure its ongoing effectiveness.
• An effective code should be user-friendly internally and
appealing externally. The test of a good code is not that it sits
on a
Web site or hangs on the wall but that it changes behavior
inside
the foundation and among grantees, nonprofits, and the field of
philanthropy.
In a world in which discourse is increasingly polarized by
extremist views and in which argumentation is sometimes seen
as
a blood sport where victory goes to those who utterly destroy
the
opponent, a code of ethics provides a moderating influence. The
ability of trustees to find common ground even as they disagree
forcefully helps ensure that discussion does not descend into
16. rant,
that professional differences do not turn into personal
animosities,
and that a compromise on policy is not seen to be a cave-in on
val-
ues. As John F. Kennedy (1956) observed about real-world
debates,
there are “few if any issues where all the truth and all the right
and
all the angels are on one side” (p. 5). As issues heat up around
the
boardroom table, a good code of ethics helps remind us of that
fact.
Reference
Kennedy, J. F. Profiles in Courage. New York: HarperCollins,
2000. (Originally
published 1956.)
rushworth m. kidder is president of the Institute for Global
Ethics in
Camden, Maine.
Int. J. Nonprofit Volunt Sect Mark. 10: 175-181 (2005)
Published online in Wiley InterScience
(www.interscience.wiley.com). DOI: 10.1002/nvsni.ll
Doing well by doing right:
A fundraiser's guide to ethical
decision-making
19. Volunt Sect Mark, August 2005
176 M.J. Rosen
on the subject (Daigneault and Navran, 1998).
By looking beyond these common misconcep-
tions, professionals can learn the benefits of
strong ethical decision-making and how^ to
make the best choices.
Believing that "good" people do not need to
w ôrry about ethics training, many often ignore
the subject relying instead on their reflexes
when challenged. The reality is that learning
about ethics and sound decision-making helps
good people to take the kind of action they
aspire to take when faced with complex
situations. In addition, by following a code of
ethics and taking a deliberative approach to
decision-making, fundraising professionals will
be able to make the best possible choice even
w ĥen faced with no clear correct answ êr and
ŵ ill be in a better position to justify that
decision to the organization's stakeholders.
For many, making sound ethical decisions
is simply a matter of common sense. These
people believe Walt Disney's Jiminy Cricket
when he says, "Let your conscience be your
guide."
The Association of Fundraising Professionals
offers a number of relatively simple suggestions
for testing decisions:
20. "The Vision Test—Can you look yourself in
the mirror and tell yourself that the position
you have taken is okay? If not, don't do it.
"The What-Would-Your-Parents-Say T e s t -
Could you explain to your parents the rationale
for your actions? If you could look them in the
eye and not get a quizzical response, or be sent
to your room, then proceed.
"The Kid-On-Your-Shoulders Test—Would
you be comfortable if your children were
observing you? Are you living the example
you preach?
"The Publicity Test—Would you be comfor-
table if your decision appeared on the front
page of the [newspaper] tomorrow? Or was
mentioned on the nightly news?" (Rohrbach J.
2001. Ethics and philanthropy: looking at some
fundamentals and emerging issues, lecture
delivered at the AFP Franklin Forum).
However, while common sense is important
to resolving ethical dilemmas, it is a limited
tool. "Testing" decisions is also of limited value
unless a sound decision-making process has
preceded it. Frequently, an ethical dilemma
will involve conflicting values for the individual
or a conflict between the individual's personal
values and those of the organization. Also, an
ethical dilemma could involve an issue that is
beyond the individual's experience and, there-
fore, beyond "common" sense.
21. Others believe that if something is legal, it is
ethical. The reality is that society first decides
what is ethical or unethical, and then may
choose to codify that into law. Therefore, many
things remain unethical despite the fact that
they might be perfectly legal. For example,
development staff members who receive
commission-based compensation linked to
the money they raise are operating legally in
virtually all countries despite the fact that
most fundraising codes of ethics from around
the w ôrld frown on this practice. Making
matters even more complex is the fact that
political fundraising is most often regulated
differently and guided by a different set of
ethical standards around the world. For ex-
ample, commission-based compensation is a
common practice when paying political fund-
raising staff.
Perhaps, the most dangerous misconception
about ethics is the belief that it is a soft issue
that does not directly impact organizations.
The reality is that organizations that are perce-
ived of as ethical will attract more volunteers,
recruit better staff, and even raise more money
than would otherwise be the case.
Benefits
A study conducted by researchers at the Henley
Management College in the United Kingdom
found that "there would appear to be a
relationship between trust and a propensity
to donate" (Sargeant and Lee, 2002). Trust
23. When trust is compromised, fundraising
efforts can be negatively impacted even if
the mistrust is unjustified. For example, in
Scotland in May 2003, The Sunday Mail
newspaper published a report highly critical
of the professional fundraising company
Solution
s RMC and its work for a breast
cancer research charity. The controversy had
an impact throughout the charity sector in
Scotland, even impacting charities that never
worked with