Beyond Impact: Philanthropy for International Education within a Justice Paradigm

Rachel Dowling
Stanford University / Ethics in Society Honors Thesis / 2010


The Role of Education in Development: What We Can Expect it to Do

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“Education for All” Blueprint Economic Functionalist Rationale for the Expansion of Education Human Rights Rationale for the Expansion of Education Equity Rationale Equity vs Quality?



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The Impact Model of Philanthropy: 51 Appropriate for International Education? 52 57 58 61 64 66 68 70 70 71 74 77 79

Education as a Human Right? Domestic Educational Inequality Unquestionably Compelling What is Justice? Who Resides Within your Sphere of Justice? What is Humanitarianism? Can it defend International Philanthropy for Education? Give Domestically or Internationally? Impact and Standards

The Impact Model Impact rhetoric Efficiency and Effectiveness Is Impact Ethical? Is Measurement Possible? Measurement Maintains Systems of Power Should Social Goods be for Sale? Does Impact Philanthropy Answer a Humanitarian Call, or an Appeal to Justice?


Justice and Humanitarianism: a Comparison of Frameworks



Moving Beyond Impact: Using ServiceLearning to Inspire Partnership

Humanitarianism as a Basis for International Educational Aid

Justice-Driven Partnership Philanthropy 19 What is Service-Learning? What Can Service Learning Teach the Philanthropic Sector? Conclusion References

Justice as a basis for International Educational Aid 24 Global Justice -Political (Statist) Conception -Cosmopolitan Conception -A Novel Middle Ground position: Community Based Global Justice 26 28 29

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Beyond Impact: Philanthropy for International Education within a Justice Paradigm

Rachel Dowling Stanford University May 10, 2010

Advisor: Rob Reich, Political Science and Education Readers: Bruce Sievers, Philanthropy and Civil Society Tania Mitchell, Comparative Studies in Race and Ethnicity Abstract: This thesis investigates international philanthropy for education (IPE). It studies the actual utility of education for socioeconomic development, and determines that equity concerns are instrumental to granting equal outcomes of opportunity in both developed and developing nations. Understanding equity as an issue of justice, not humanitarianism, a theory of justice must be worked out to account for the expensive proposition of implementing elite-quality education. For international educational aid to get off the ground, a global justice account must connect philanthropists and individuals in foreign nations. Finding issue with aspects of both statist and cosmopolitan views, I suggest a novel Community Based approach to global justice, which takes as its basis extant community networks and the primacy of human dignity. Turning then to the practice of philanthropy today, I question the compatibility of the Impact Model with the goals of justice. Finally, I suggest an alternative to impact philanthropy that is built on a mutual-learning paradigm similar to that seen in service-learning critical pedagogy. I believe this approach better supports the empirical evidence for how education improves socioeconomic equity. I hope philanthropists interested in education for development, philosophers, education researchers, and anyone interested in global justice more broadly will find this a useful synthesis of these intersecting disciplines.

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Philanthropy and education are two of the most important catalysts for social change in the world. They have the potential to transform individuals, penetrate the most established structural inequities, and inspire dramatic rethinking of the social order. Promising progress and peace, both education and philanthropy offer significant reason to hope for justice in this unjust world. As Frederick Harbison and Charles Meyers famously said in 1965, “education is both the seed and the flower of economic development.” And while education certainly does have transformative potential, its causal relationship with economic development, human rights protection, political democratization, and population health improvement are not clearly understood. Despite this, there is widespread confidence in education as a kind of social panacea (Chabbott and Ramirez, 2000; Ramirez and Boli, 1987). And philanthropy, which can act to remedy social ills left unaccounted for by the government or the market, is seen as a potential omnipotent benefactor for both domestic and international individuals. This thesis aims to study international education for development, probe its relationship to socioeconomic development, and ask what can be done to improve educational aid. By some estimates, 113 million children are out of school, nearly a billion adults are illiterate, and wealth is strongly correlated with educational mastery. Given that there are innumerable factors of welfare are associated with education, there is a clear ethical imperative to think about our commitment to equitable access to high quality schooling (World Bank, 2008; UNICEF; Hannum and Buchmann, 2003). Developing nations often cannot afford high quality mass schooling, source books, or maintain technology. So even though every nation in the world has a ministry of education, and almost all have compulsory schooling written into constitutional documents, widespread decoupling

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between formal policy and practice exists when it comes to educational access for all. For instance, in Sub-Saharan Africa, the World Bank estimates there will be a $32.2 billion gap in funding needed for primary and post-primary education per year by 2020. This is even assuming moderate GDP growth and a 20 percent investment of overall government expenditure on education. Despite alleged foreign donor commitments to the Millennium Development Goals, new priorities like environmental change, food security, and pandemics have served to make governmental foreign aid less reliable for education (Ledoux et al, 2010). In the face of these significant funding gaps, philanthropy can play an important role. It can act to fill in what is missing from governmental and market contributions. Yet philanthropists confront the simultaneous facts of worldwide educational disparity, and domestic education inequity. Cost, quality, and enrollment values vary as much between and within countries and districts as students themselves do (Baker and LeTendre, 2005; Ramirez, ). Yet socioeconomic inequality cannot be remedied by expanding education across the board. The problem is that to a large extent, the value of an education within a community depends on the relative quality of that education in relation the education peers in that community have. Depending on the local context, a secondary level of schooling might be enough to compete in the job market, but in another context only a college degree or higher will allow someone to live well. When it comes to socioeconomic opportunity, a person’s education relative preparation determines their success. Likewise on a national scale, a nation is only as successful at progressing economically as it is competitive in the global marketplace. Thus on both the individual and national levels, the worth of education depends on how it compares to other students’ education. Acknowledging the comparative aspect of education is a precondition for understanding economic development and growth. Considering the issues of parity, equity, and relative attainment are absolutely crucial to effectively carrying out education for socioeconomic development.

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Education as a Human Right?
The benefits of primary school education have been reiterated in hundreds of publications to the point where it has entered public discourse as a matter of fact. Expanding mass schooling is seen as a cure-all for all manner of political, economic, health, and population problems. But the functionalist arguments that allege a connection between the schooled and productive individuals and collective national progress are highly contested in the education literature (Hannum and Buchmann, 2003; Pritchett, 1996; Levine and Renelt, 1992, Krueger and Lindahl, 2000). A plethora of studies have shown conflicting results with regard to the degree of influence additional years of school has on individual’s earning potential. In general, citizens of developed countries see a greater increase in income for staying in school longer, but this is not necessarily true in developing countries where skilled jobs are scarcer. Students in the developing world frequently cannot find jobs in the economy to match their expanded education. Making a claim about the collective economic progress that an expansion in mass education purportedly enables is even more tenuous. It seems that there is stronger evidence for the claims that better educated citizenry have healthier and longer lives and have healthier children in both developed and developing nations (Hadden and London, 1996). For instance, a 10% increase in enrollment rates in primary school leads to a 0.9 year average increase in life expectancy, for secondary school it is another full year, and for tertiary school it is 0.7 years. (Hannum and Buchmann, 2003). The mechanisms and specific health benefits differ among developed and developing nations; in the later women are better equipped to process health information and protect themselves and their children if they are educated. In developed countries, education benefits the population through psycho-social factors (Williams, 1990). There is equally strong evidence that educated populations grow less rapidly than
Souce: World Bank, 2006

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uneducated ones, which is a boon to sustainable development that is concerned about shrinking natural resources. Uneducated individuals have a shorter lifespan, lower quality of health care, more disease than those who are educated. But the discussion of education as a static human right can obstruct a consideration of the terms of inclusion in education. There is no disputing the right for all children to have a high quality of education, but it’s important to see the limitations of discussing education merely in terms of human rights. Human rights entail a set of standards which all people are due in virtue of their humanity, not their national association. So a human right to education would entail a pre-defined package of goods with dimensions that are static across nations. It would suggest that there is a minimal standard which is uniformly useful for all children to achieve regardless of how and where they live. Yet the specific level and quality of education that is necessary for the attainment of “full human dignity” is a hotly contested issue among experts, practitioners and other stakeholders. Discussing education as a human right often becomes entangled in arguments about the elements of a minimal standard. Yet there is a moral problem with centering the discussion of education for development around minimal standards. It implies that only a minimal quality of education is owed to children, and that further levels of education are unnecessary. It suggests that allowing some children access to higher levels or higher quality education might deny others their access, which would be a violation of the principle of the human right. There is also a fundamental practical problem with discussing education only in terms of human rights. This problem is under-discussed and misunderstood by many policy makers. When disparities in educational access and quality exist in a community, setting a minimal educational standard does nothing to eradicate inequality. Empirical research shows time and again that merely expanding mass education without an accompanied effort to address inequality does little to raise

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poor families and individuals out of poverty, and does nothing to equalize opportunities for children of stratified backgrounds. If all children reach a certain minimal standard, elite families raise the bar for their own children. If all countries reach a minimal standard of education for their citizens, elite countries will raise the bar to keep a competitive edge. Therefore development programs that do not deliver “elite quality” education to students in need should not expect to reduce income disparity or socioeconomic poverty, either for individuals or nations. Education for development needs to set goals that are fundamentally relative, and which aim for comparable access to education that elites have. In effect, education for development needs to keep an eye on the highest performers, not just the lowest. It would be much easier to take on a strategy of implementing a minimal standard, but the central economic reasons for prescribing universal education -- namely that education is correlated with macroeconomic growth, alleviation of poverty and increase in income equity -- are contested by decades of cross-national research. The expansion of mass education has been shown to entrench instead of erase income inequity. Blossfield and Shavit find that “educational expansion actually facilitates to a large extent the persistence of inequalities in educational opportunity” (1993, pp 258). Their research examined 13 countries in Europe and Asia, America, and concluded that despite universal educational expansion, educational inequity remained stable. Essentially, elites routinely raise the bar for their own educational demands once lower classes attain a certain level, which leaves poorer classes with the same economic outlooks they had before because they are still losing the race for credentials. So despite the last several decades’ growth in educational access (the worldwide net enrollment ratio as grown from 40% in 1960 to 89% in 2006), equality of opportunity has not improved (World Bank, 2008). The disadvantaged are making strides toward becoming better educated, but so are the elite (Blossfield and Shavit, 1993). It is easy to ignore national inequity by merely looking at the growing educational attainment of the lower strata. Without examining the simultaneously growing educational attainment of the

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higher strata, it might seem as if Modernist’s hopes of achieving equity through education could be realized. But it seems instead that the empirical evidence supports a Reproduction perspective; the status quo of social inequity will persist. “Whereas the proportions of all social classes attending school have increased, the relative advantage associated with privileged origins persists in all but two of the thirteen societies” (Blossfield and Shavit, 1993, pp 257). In our increasingly globalized world, the lack of parity between developed and developing nations’ education systems is of growing moral concern. The concern is increasingly centered around dramatically unequal access to quality education. Yet the standards for achieving competitive status in the workforce vary tremendously between nations. In the United States for
Souce: World Bank, 2006

example, it is difficult to break the cycle of poverty without being college educated, but in a developing nation, finishing primary school alone might do a lot to remedy poverty. So recognition of differing contexts is crucial to understanding education’s role in development.

Domestic Educational Inequity -- Unquestionably Compelling
Yes, the absolute need of the world’s neediest people exceeds that which American school children experience. But within our own nation’s borders, we also see dramatic inequality in education. This inequality is tied to racial, ethnic and linguistic minority groups. Socioeconomically disadvantaged groups are systematically excluded from high quality education in the United States by virtue of neighborhood and real estate differences. The nonprofit sector has responded to this inequality in the last two decades by increasing giving and programatic support to domestic school initiatives, after-school programs and 0-5 early education initiatives. Donors, who believe that the state or federal educational systems are failing,

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have started to support education where the government used to have sole involvement. Philanthropists are not unaware of the links between social mobility and education (Boris, 2006). With the private sector taking over the onus for education that was previously solely in the jurisdiction of governments, the questions about who to fund and in what ways become more and more pressing. How much obligation do (or should) philanthropists have to educate children in their own communities? How about in developing world? How do these duties compare?

What is Justice? Who Resides Within your Sphere of Justice?
Justice is a dense concept that relates people and institutions to each other in a way that is fair, ethical, lawful, and equitable. John Rawls explains justice as a rich social contract whereby all people within the a given sphere of justice treat each other fairly (Rawls, 1971). The notion is that a society is just if it is set up in a way such that anyone would choose to live in it even without foreknowledge of their relative standing in that society. It is necessary to define a sphere of justice, and delineate who is within it and who is outside of it from the outset. A sphere of justice compares and justifies the relative standing of all people within it, and is defined by the links (political or associational) that connect people within it. People in the same sphere of justice have a relationship to the institution which encompasses them all. Through this relationship to the institution, they also have a relationship to each other. This relationship is marked by an obligation of care -- an expectation that the (Rawls, 1971). While the goal of this paper is not to support domestic philanthropy over international philanthropy (or vice versa), I do hope to show that in order to defend a high quality type of educational aid in the international arena, philanthropists need to adopt a justice framework for their philanthropy. To do this, they need to define the scope of their sphere of justice. If this sphere is to extend across national boundaries, they need to demonstrate a compelling network of associational ties that take the place of political ties.

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Unlike in domestic circumstances, where the ruling nation-state government can enforce taxation and redistribute resources between communities for greater equity, this is impossible in the international arena. Without a nation-state government in place to guide standards of equity and opportunity between nations, it is difficult to give a political defense of justice-backed philanthropy. For better or worse, there is no supranational institutional structure, and there will not be one in the foreseeable future. Yet forces of economic and political globalization have transformed our world into one sociopolitical ecosphere of interrelated parts. The rise of transportation and exploration since the mid 18th century, and the rise of information technology in the 21st century have flattened our world (Friedman, 2005). It is easier now than ever before to connect with individuals in other countries and develop relationships with them. There is increasingly an international community (largely facilitated by online technologies, and international educational exchanges) that enables us to feel sympathetic toward and connected to people who might have significantly different access to resources. Yet if we are to conceive of all of our global connections as existing in a just sphere, we need a way to work out a theory of justice that does not rely on formal political affiliations. There is a need for a statement of international justice when it comes to philanthropy, since without it we have no way of motivating a duty of care between individuals in the developed world and the developing world. Without the protective and coercive support of a nation-state as the locus of justice, philanthropists are not compelled by any institution to give assistance to struggling nations or foreign individuals, and philanthropy is generally understood to be voluntary. Yet philanthropists proclaim themselves “seekers of justice” in a global system (Havens et al, 2006). Frequently philanthropists loosely define (social) justice as “helping people help themselves” which they say is akin to teaching a man to fish to feed himself. Alternately it is described as “tackling problems at their source” (researching why men do not know how to fish), or altering the cycles and structures of poverty so that the next generation will have a better chance of success than their parents did

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(establishing fishing schools). The political philosopher's understanding of justice is closer to: “mitigating systems of inequity that inhibit a just distribution of resources based on equal opportunity for all people within a given socially or politically networked sphere.” The misunderstanding between these two groups of theorists and the definition of justice has led to a complete division between the fields. Philanthropists and philosophers each see the other as irrelevant to their work, but I beg to differ. They have a lot to learn from each other, and this is part of my motivation for trying to reconcile a way for philanthropists to engage in thoughtful global justice action that actually deals with issues of obligation, not just sustainability.

What is Humanitarianism? Can it defend International Philanthropy for Education (IPE)?
In contrast to justice, humanitarianism refers to the moral obligation a person has to protect the basic rights of other human beings based on their shared humanity. These basic, inalienable rights, called “negative rights,” include the right to life, liberty and freedom, the right to freedom of religion, the right to a nationality, etc (The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 1948). The list of basic rights, however, does not extend to socioeconomic equality, or even equality of opportunity (Nagel, 2005). Equal wealth is not a human right. The UN list does include a right to equal pay for equal work, and the right to own property, but these do not amount to a right to socioeconomic equality with everyone in a sphere of justice. Humanitarianism cannot easily be used to justify international educational aid because education is meant to address socioeconomic equity, which is not a human right. Since education falls into this tricky category of a good that is intended to improve socioeconomic equity, its defense is difficult to make. We need a justice account to defend elitequality education (in order to effect socioeconomic opportunities for students), but we cannot rely on traditional political justice since there is no supra-national state.

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Using a human rights approach ignores the contextual element, instead saying that education is universally applicable. Chapter 2 of my thesis will develop the differences between humanitarianism and justice in more depth, but I believe that I have shown that international philanthropy for educational (IPE) is a nontrivial matter. I hope to show that IPE needs to be justified within a justice framework because of the inherently comparative nature of education. Ignoring this critical aspect would render educational aid ineffective for socioeconomic development. Remembering it has tremendous potential for positive improvement of equality. Defending educational philanthropy within a justice framework also has the benefit of simultaneously allowing philanthropic support for emergencies, genocides, and natural disasters need to have philanthropic support, but their need does not present a excuse to stop funding longer-term development initiatives in education. Understanding humanitarian aid and educational philanthropy as fundamentally different types of needs, we see that philanthropy for education runs parallel to, not in opposition to, philanthropy for humanitarian disasters.

Give Domestically or Internationally?
If there are parallel needs in the domestic sphere and the international one, how does the donor decide between the two? Absolute need for education in developing countries is incredibly high. Yet local need is quite real; developed nations experience tremendous educational disparity within their borders. And the need of a fellow citizen carries a political obligation of care. Donating money and energy to educational initiatives internationally therefore requires a delicate political positioning of the giver in relation to distant individuals and foreign institutions. We need to take a careful look at the feasibility of defending international educational philanthropy, considering the specific justice concerns that exist outside of the national arena.

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Every time philanthropists give money internationally, they must have a stronger justice-based justification than when they give domestically. Domestic obligations of care for fellow citizens do not disappear just because a philanthropist becomes interested in Africa. Political ties through citizenship motivate unquestionable obligations of care; giving money to alleviate poverty close to home is “automatically” required by justice. So to give any money at all to international recipients, donors must present a case of obligation of care for non-nationals that supersedes their obligation to help their co-citizens. This leads us to the question: How much obligation does each one of us have to create a just nation? a just world? If they are in conflict, which takes precedence? One of my aims for this paper is to press philanthropists to answer why is it more compelling to give money to international rather than domestic educational initiatives. It seems that a justificatory story is needed in order to get international philanthropy off the ground. This question would be neutralized if a sovereign supra-nation existed which granted citizenship to all people. This imaginary supra-nation would grant the same rights and demand the same obligations of all people. Imagining injustices still existed in the supra-nation, philanthropists could pursue socioeconomic justice by developing education systems regardless of physical locality and nation-state membership. We will not likely see a sovereign supra-nation in our lifetimes however. The collection of dense networked INGO’s, trade groups, and interests across national lines is not a substitute for sovereignty. Despite thick connections and multi-layered dependencies, separate nations cannot obligate members of other nations to comply with their laws or participate in their military. Responsibilities to people in other countries is fundamentally different and lesser than the responsibility citizens of the same country have for each other. The power of the nationstate as a locus of cultural identity and national unity is unparalleled (Anderson, 1991). In the absence of an authoritative global state, associational ties between persons in different nations would

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have to serve an extraordinarily strong role if they were to motivate obligations of care between wealthy Western individuals and people in developing countries. In the absence of a global obligation-demanding institution, we lack a way of defining political or institutional obligation of association between individuals in different nations. If we want to use a theory of justice to defend the right to education, our theoretical task is to find strong associational ties between individuals of different nationalities that would create a shared identity I posit that there may be a way to do this. Developing personal connection through shared learning and intercultural experience may be strong enough to generate these ties. My suggestion is to use a definition of global justice that resides in a moderate middle ground between the two positions of Cosmopolitanism and Statist Global Justice. I will show in Chapter 3 of my thesis that Cosmopolitanism, which holds that the demands of justice derive from our duty of fairness to all other humans, is too restrictive in its demands. It would make any donation to American education immoral if all students across the globe were not at least at the level of America’s worst-off school. Not only is this is unpalatable for many American philanthropists, it goes against what we might call a natural response to care for those closest and dearest to oneself. Associational ties are organically developed between members of the same community, and it makes sense to allow these stronger associational ties to shape the duty of care between individuals. I will need to defend this against the “Russian doll” phenomenon that critics might suggest appears whereby individuals define their level of commitment to a community by direct correlation to their proximity to it. I think this is feasible considering how technology has enabled individuals to form social bonds with people far away from them, instead of forming ties in direct proportion to geographic proximity. Also in Chapter 2, I look at statist political global justice. It its traditional conception, strict political global justice would require that all members of a sphere of justice to have a political bond to a common institution, which since the mid 19th century has been to a sovereign nation-state. Thus, we would need to build a giant nation-state that admitted as citizens both the donor and

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recipient communities. Alternatively, we could build adequately strong associational ties to generate the duty of care without a political framework. This would obligate wealthy nations (and individuals) to give money for educational initiatives (diverting money away from clear humanitarian disasters), and give large enough donations to educational initiatives to build high quality education. Education quality makes a huge difference in attainment. If it is not done right, it will likely not lead to economic development and the ability of students to defend their other rights. Merely reaching the “minimum standard” of education does little for the state of justice in the world.

Impact and Standards
Looking at a cost analysis of education, many philanthropists have come to the conclusion that their money makes more of an “impact” overseas. Using some measure of aggregate utility, they determine that they can “buy” more social good by giving it to relatively more disadvantaged people. But giving to international education has traditionally been incredibly inefficient (sending books overseas is costly in comparison to giving books to children in your local needy school). Amazingly, philanthropists keep pouring aid into international educational development, even though more pressing humanitarian emergencies exist, and they do not have an obligation to care for children who are not fellow citizens. There is something compelling about the idea of offering a child a chance to learn. They give to an issue that they feel is most compelling, and then seek to find the grantees who claim to be most effective at addressing that social need. The triumph of “efficacy” has resulted in the widespread adoption of the impact model of philanthropy. This model (or variants on it) emphasizes large social change with minimal investment. The word “impact” implies a violent collision (between social classes, cultural values, and personalities) wherein philanthropists force community recipients into a desired end-state position that conforms to the ideals of the donor. Decision-making is generally always withheld from the grantee and reserved for the philanthropist. This type of philanthropy strips community partners of

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some degree of their human dignity because it describes them as objectified elements of need. The associated metrics and methods of assessment and efficacy can generate a culture of mistrust. They set up a situation of asymmetry whereby donors reduce individuals (grantees) to social problems that need to be “fixed.” Recipients need to prove their own malleability, which can be costly and demeaning. Couched in compassionate rhetoric, impact philanthropy promotes a ruthless competition among nonprofits and pits them in many ways against foundations and donors because the reporting and grant-making process is so arduous. The fervor for finding the perfect grantee or “social investment portfolio” makes it easy to lose sight of the issue of justifying exorbitant wealth (and exorbitant disparity) to accumulate in the first place. Yet impact philanthropy is not all bad. It has helped to reinvigorate the nonprofit world with a sense of accountability and a focus on outcomes. I address more of the complexities of impact philanthropy (and its discontents) in Chapter 4.

What is an Alternative to the Impact Model? A Cross-pollination of Literatures (Philosophy, Philanthropy and Service-Learning)
I suggest that developing associational ties between individuals in different nations might now be possible thanks to advances in global technology, lower costs of collaboration, newly open networks, and the sense of connectivity that we see transcending national boundaries in social communities. The challenge for is now to expand these strong associational ties between individuals to community levels so that an obligation of care between an individual philanthropist and a community in need could be generated. I look to the literature of pedagogical studies in education for a model to adapt to the case of philanthropy. The strategy of Service Learning seeks to build relationships between students and “community members” across divisions of power where there have historically been no previous

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positive relationships. These relationships look much like the ideal associational ties that we are seeking between philanthropists and recipients. Service Learning (SL) experts establish partnerships between students and community partners, and ask participants to reflect on the roles that their own identity and social status play in the state of justice in the world. By thinking about their own identity and the identities of those they are partnering with, critical service learners begin to examine the sociopolitical reasons that inequality exists. Thus, SL seeks to disrupt oppressive social power structures. It gives students the critical lens to ask why their service is needed in the first place, and the practical skills to do something about it. Community partners are equally involved. They play a crucial role in questioning the reasons for their poverty and creatively imagining solutions to the systemic factors that placed them there. SL aims to equip community partners with the skills and curiosity to change the trajectory of their own lives. Simultaneously, it aims to show students that their identity politic is not separate from the identities of the individuals they encounter “on site.” Once they have this understanding of the interconnectedness of diverse groups of individuals, they begin to see their own role in maintaining systems of oppression, and are awakened to the responsibility they each have to right that injustice. The methodology of service learning is revolutionary; it seeks to democratize the learning process so that teachers are learners and students are teachers. SL focuses on human capital development from all angles, recognizing and celebrating the wealth of knowledge and experience that resides within all SL participants before they began the service experience. In my thesis, I will use literature written from the point of view of the community parter to show how community voices are crucial to re-humanizing individual recipients and developing strong associational ties. Service learning researchers have developed ways to achieve and measure increases in justice (potential) instilled in participants that have less to do with concrete ‘improvements’ (like 10,000 new books donated) and more with the qualitative assessment of civic engagement, sense of engagement in politics, understanding of justice issues, historical and contextual knowledge, and other scholastic

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achievement that focuses on students’ and community partners’ personal and collective growth. I hope to show that these metrics support the development of the right kind of international educational development project, and do so not for the sake of “looking good on paper” or to report back to finicky donors. I believe that philanthropists could learn a huge amount from service learning researchers. If philanthropists continue to objectify their recipients by treating them as results to be achieved in an impact model, it is hard to see how strong associational ties might be made. I hypothesize that it will be impossible to defend philanthropy for international education within an impact model, and that we need to look beyond it in the coming years.

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Humanitarianism and Justice: A Comparison of Frameworks
In the first chapter, I showed it is important to decide if philanthropy for education is being done in the name of humanitarianism or justice. Making this choice determines how much aid is given internationally, how much domestically, and how donors see their donation as affecting systemic social change. The justificatory framework selected by a philanthropist also has practical import for the way in which he or she monitors success and evaluates progress. Earlier I suggested that adopting a humanitarian justification for educational philanthropy might undermine domestic philanthropy because the absolute need of people in developing nations overshadows domestic absolute need. I will elaborate on this point in this chapter and also show that using humanitarianism as a justification for IPE also calls for the implementation of a low quality of education which many development professionals might find objectionable. The humanitarian must define a minimal standard of education sufficient to uphold human dignity. By implementing this principle, the humanitarian is put in the position of championing a philanthropic model that spreads resources very thinly over as many people as possible. In Chapter 3, I will give some empirical evidence that an approach which uses minimal standards to implement educational aid is simply ineffective in accomplishing the goals that philanthropists have for improving the quality of life in the countries in which they work. Raising the earning potential of individuals or increasing national economic development of a country is only possible when equity is considered. I present an argument for the rejection of humanitarianism as an appropriate framework for IPE on practical grounds. In the second part of this chapter, I explore a justice framework for IPE. I delineate the basic premises of a justice framework and imagine what this would look like on an international

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level. The question of justifying a world in which there are vast differences in wealth is a matter, which I do not have the space to explore. Additionally I show that the theoretic philosophical divide between humanitarians and justice-seekers manifests itself in the methods and styles of interaction between donors and their local partners. Relationships with grantees will be defined largely by the justificatory framework.

Humanitarianism as a basis for International Educational Aid
Humanitarian morality says there are non-contingent, universal rights which all people are due. Action taken to defend those rights is done out of an associative relational network in which all people are equally connected and separated. The mere fact of being a human being gives you a set of certain unalienable rights as well as the duty to defend (or not obstruct) those same rights in all other people. Humanitarian philanthropy eliminate violations to these universal
world (filled w/ other sov. states)

rights. It seeks to minimize the most extreme forms of suffering brought about by natural disaster, political upheaval, or revolutionary chaos and rescue lives from

Soverign State A

Soverign State B

immediate danger. The salient theory behind the action is that extreme suffering ought to be alleviated regardless of the nationality, race, or ethnicity of the sufferer. Humanitarianism “holds in virtue of the absolute rather than the relative level of need” (Nagel, 2005, p 119). This

means that humanitarian moral conduct requires addressing the most egregious violations to human rights first, and only moving on to less immediate concerns after the most traumatic abuses have been stopped. The humanitarian must not make others’ ends his own,

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but he must live in such a way as to allow others to pursue their ends freely, healthily, and with dignity. Humanitarian philanthropy does not morally implicate givers in systemic injustices. It does not say that exorbitant wealth is linked to excruciating poverty. Global inequality is a fact of life, and remedying it is not crucial to remedying human rights abuses. Long-standing and wide-spread systems of injustice are easy to ignore from a humanitarian point of view because the humanitarian is not concerned with networks of obligation. All people have the same right to a defense of their human rights as all others. Networks -- and nations -- have nothing to do with it. Thus, the emphasis in humanitarian philanthropy is on most effectively addressing the most egregious violations of human rights for the most people. It is important to note that humanitarianism is not an egalitarian standard. Humanitarians use an objective list of human rights to determine and locate abuses to human dignity. The contents of these lists of rights vary according to the particular values that the humanitarian individual or agency holds. So humanitarians act in ways that they deem will remedy breaches to this list. Rights like the freedom of religion, the freedom of speech, the right to adequate nutrition, and decent shelter are frequently included in humanitarian lists of rights. The United Nations’ 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights in many ways set the standard by which all other lists are measured. It describes rights that cover the full trajectory of a human life. It does not, however list socioeconomic equality as a human right. Socioeconomic rights are fully associative -- they arise only because we are linked to a common network over seen by a common authority (Nagel, 2005). The Universal Declaration of Human Rights acknowledges that an unequal distribution of resources is inevitable in a free society, however it stipulates that “everyone has duties to the community in which alone the free and full development of his personality is possible” (UN, 1948, article 29). So, in a sense, it says that all people a have a right to a supportive community (and an

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obligation to uphold that community for others). The right to an education (Article 26) covers the right to a free primary education, as well as access to secondary, tertiary and technical education. The rights in the Universal Declaration are not listed in order of importance, but there is a natural prioritization among them. Rights which defend an individual’s life are the most basic, followed by the rights that defend their way of life. All human rights are important, but some are absolutely vital to living to see the sun rise. Making do without education, while it is unfairly detrimental to a person’s life prospects, does not prevent that person from living. If philanthropists only use humanitarian concerns to order their philanthropic giving, they will find themselves perpetually being pulled away from educational aid. Humanitarianism prioritizes the most egregious offenses. If children are experiencing a poor education while other children are experiencing starvation or genocide, there is no question which the humanitarian must support. Compared to education, nearly every other humanitarian crisis takes precedence. And the laundry list of human rights offenses and humanitarian crises is so long that we could put all philanthropic dollars toward it and still not remedy them all. Treating people who have just survived a devastating earthquake, for instance, would take precedence over building a school in a stable but desperately impoverished community. Long-term education initiatives would almost always be “put on the back burner” in deference to addressing health, nutrition, and violence. The scope of global needs is overwhelming to the humanitarian. Therefore, it is challenging (perhaps impossible) to motivate humanitarian funds toward education.

Socioeconomic Injustice -- still compelling despite its status as a non-human right
However, the fact that there are human rights violations in addition to injustices in socioeconomic opportunity is not an argument to turn a blind eye to these injustices. Seventy-seven million children, more than half of them girls, and almost all in developing nations, do not have access to school of any kind (UNESCO). This fact is not changed by the atrocities that take place in

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genocides or natural disasters. The moral responsibility we have to address each of these issues is not determined by the speed or drama with which they occur. A failing education system does not require as immediate a response as an earthquake, but it does not deserve to be ignored. Let us imagine then, what a humanitarian approach to education would look like. The moral mandate would be to bring children to a “human rights” standard of education. But what is a human rights standard? Is this primary school? Secondary, tertiary, technical? Does it include a right to learn in your mother tongue? Does it include a right to be a classroom with a teacher:student ratio lower than 1:100? What about textbooks and computers -- does every child have a right to own their own? A human rights concept of education specifies universal standards. Humanitarians have a mandate to bring all children to that standard level regardless of country context, opportunity for future employment, or perceived utility of that education in that community. The idea is to level opportunity for life prospects through a universal basic education. The problem with this approach is that transnational empirical research has repeatedly shown that leveling organized education (institutional input) does not level outcome (opportunities) for students (Chabbott and Ramirez, 2002; Hannum and Buchmann, 2003). External additional support that elites in a system can provide for their children means that even with a level scholastic playing field, under-served communities will continue to be under-served in comparison to the top echelons (Coleman, 1988). Elites will raise the bar for their children’s education; they will enroll them in better than standard schools, give them extra tutoring, and support them in innumerable ways to make them more competitive. Minimal standards, even seemingly high ones, are not effective at leveling opportunity across socioeconomic lines (Baker and LeTendre, 2005, Ramirez, 1997). Socioeconomic injustices can only be addressed in education by funding elite-quality education and wrap around services for the least well off. Uniform standards just serve to set a

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Humanitarian Relationships -- Beneficial in themselves?
While perhaps allowing for idiosyncratic or unnecessary philanthropic investments, the freedom of choice is a unique strength of philanthropy and civil society. It promotes diversity of ideas and value pluralism in a way that pure statist societies could not. If we lived in a place where the state undertook all charitable work, then we would see a markedly reduced opportunity for experimentation, expression of values, and opportunity for novel discovery. Philanthropists, with their relatively low level of accountability and high level of power, are in a position to see their ideas made real through investments in nonprofit activity. Yes, there is risk that a self-directed civil society will make mistakes and act unwisely, but this is the price we must pay for the freedom of institutions and individuals to engage in projects and dialogues that they find meaningful. The interaction between conflicting points of view in civil society is our modern day agora where substantial discussions about the role of society and individuals can be voiced (Tocqueville, 1835; Seivers, 2010). Michael Waltzer pursues the line of thought that the giver-recipient relationship has inherent worth. He says that charity ought to be preserved for its own sake. Allowing voluntary gifts to flow from one willing individual to another is a good that cannot be replicated in any other way (Waltzer, 1982). In his view, the act of giving actually generates positive externalities that transcend the money given or services provided. Giving teaches compassion, empathy and kindness, which he argues are inherently virtuous things. We would all want to live in a society where neighbors give to each other in need and look out for each others interests. Giving to one another, and gaining a pluralistic understanding of the world through civil society has significant deontological value for Waltzer (Waltzer, 1982). There is a conceptual problem with defining a duty to undertake a certain amount of humanitarian aid. Because humanitarianism dubs any quantity of aid (any improvement in human rights abuses) good, there is no minimum threshold of engagement. Hence, humanitarianism caters to the giver’s desires and inclinations. With no required minimum, and no minimal standard of

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quality demanded, the philanthropy is entirely giver-directed. No power is given to the community partners to decide the direction of aid. Also selecting the recipient is up entirely to the giver; the surfeit of humanitarian crises allows the philanthropist to select from a full menu of unresolved social problems. There is also an implicit assumption that donors have a right to “advise” their funds, and give to the causes they personally care about, regardless of the objective needs in the world. The humanitarian model is very forgiving to philanthropists. It says that any giving they do is good. Reducing suffering and contributing to philanthropic projects, to any degree is always better than refraining from doing so. There is no minimum quantity which is meaningful to give, so this model does not condemn philanthropists who give less than would be necessary to solve a social problem, even if they could give more. The act of giving is itself a good, so leaving the social problem unresolved is actually preferable to resolving the problem because it perpetuates the opportunity to have a giving relationship. We can see that in the case of international philanthropy for education, using humanitarian justificatory framework will leave children either uneducated (since funds will not be supporting IPE at all) or poorly educated (since funds can only accommodate a minimal standard). As we will see from Chapter 3, minimal standards, even if they are reasonably high, do not change socioeconomic equity.

Justice as a basis for International Educational Aid
I turn now to the concept of Justice. It is a topic that can (and has) has filled libraries with rich literature, discussing communities as disparate as the ancient Greeks, and the modern internet generation. So my attempt to give a brief description of justice here is really that -- a brief list of salient differences between justice and humanitarianism. My purpose here is to illuminate the practical differences adopting a justice framework would have for philanthropy in education.

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Justice asks what we owe others in our political community, and what the community owes to us. It describes a moral obligation to give each member a role in the collective network, and posits that there are ethical considerations concerning the relative positions of individuals within the justice sphere. In A Theory of Justice, John Rawls says that all citizens of a nation (a domestic sphere of justice) deserve to be given equal moral consideration (Rawls, 1971). He argues that we ought to limit arbitrary sources of inequality so that all people can have an equal opportunity to flourish. In the case of education, an example of an arbitrary source of inequality would be being born in a poor neighborhood with a low quality public school.

Justice places a responsibility on individuals and nations to care for the people who are bound to them with institutional or
Sovereign Authority

associational ties. In domestic justice all citizens of a nation have a connection and obligation to a sovereign authority. This network of individuals who are all related to is a single authority, are - through that authority-- related to each other. So, by being a member of a country and having a relationship to an authority, each member is also related to all other citizens.

In a sphere of justice, the activity and wealth of one person is never completely separated from the activity and poverty of someone else (Pogge, 2003). Nations are “cooperative ventures for mutual exchange” (Rawls, 1971, p 4). Since all citizens are all related in bonds of mutual accountability to the sovereign, they are all related in bonds of mutual accountability.

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Justice is different from humanitarianism in that it can makes demands for equal citizenship, equality of opportunity, nondiscrimination, and relative parity between individual’s wealth status. It can do this in two ways: through direct taxation and redistribution, or through indirect cultural mechanisms. Nations can generate norms of mutual care transmitted through nationalism, cultural tradition and history (Anderson, 1991; Ramirez, 1997). Globalization theories held by Thomas Friedman, Pogge and others do contend that extreme wealth is linked to extreme poverty elsewhere in the world. All of the world’s people are linked in one way or another. “Nationalist explanations must be complemented by substantial inquiries into the comparative effects of global institutional factors upon the incidence of severe poverty worldwide” (Pogge, 2003). Commerce and trade, war and coercion, dialogue and global norm diffusion have linked the world in a network that necessitates we consider global justice to be a reality.

Global Justice
What would it mean to talk about a global justice? Since there is no sovereign authority that encompasses the whole world, we cannot rely on membership in an institution to motivate concern (either obligatory or cultural) between individuals. For the idea of global justice to get off the

ground, there must be some other way to generate associational bonds between individuals, or a supra-national sovereign state must be generated. This later idea is called a political conception of global justice.

Political (Statist) Conception
The political (or statist) view of global justice asserts that global justice is based on associative and institutional ties to a government (or several nested governments in a federal system)

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(Nagel 2005). The idea of a political global justice is currently only hypothetical since we do not have a supra-national state. Some theorists suggest that the dense network of international organizations, treaties, and associations amounts to a sovereign power. It is difficult to determine with certainty whether or not these connections and obligations constitute a new site of justice. Given the increasingly connected nature of the 21st century, some theorists claim that political justice can and does exist outside of the nation. P. van Parijs identifies four distinctive qualities of sovereign sites of justice: 1) they are systems of economic co-operation with more internal trade than external with nonmembers; 2) they are groups who engage in a social contract whereby some rights are collective protection and other mutual benefit; 3) they are social communities with a shared identity; 4) they are democratic political communities (Miller, 2009). exchanged for

Political philosopher David Miller concludes that “there is no similar convergence of features at the transnational level, even through taking each [above] feature separately, it is of course possible to find examples of that feature occurring at that higher [international] level” (Miller, 2009) Sociologists Benedict Anderson and Francisco Ramirez agree: the nation-state is still the dominant political force and locus of justice (Ramirez, 2006; Anderson, 1991). No international sovereign political institution exists, and until it does, we need to find another way to build institutional ties that would link individuals together in a field of justice. The fact that there is not a supra-national state is actually a strong reason to defend the existence of philanthropy. Perhaps the vast wealth accumulation of wealth in the hands of the few is symptomatic of a massively unjust world, but without a global state, there is no way to effectively tax and redistribute this wealth more equitably. Thus philanthropy is necessary to act as a redistributive

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mechanism internationally when governmental development aid is not substantial enough to eliminate vast need.

Cosmopolitan Conception
This version of global justice does not rely on a common sovereign state. It says that all humans inhabit a natural sphere of justice that encompasses the entire world. Similar to humanitarianism, it believes that the bonds between humans exist in virtue of our shared humanity. The difference is that it takes a comparative approach, saying that all people have an equal right to socioeconomic opportunity, not just a right to human rights. A cosmopolitan global justice account for education philanthropy would force us to set universal, equal standards for children across all countries. No distinction can be made based on difference of location, culture, race, or citizenship. Human dignity -- the idea that all people’s lives are inherently valuable, and all people have a right to live in a world where they have a fair opportunity to choose their own life path -- forms the basis for cosmopolitanism. Ronald Dworkin’s ethical-individualist view of Egalitarian Liberalism is also centered on the importance of human dignity. The two elements of human dignity as Dworkin sees it are 1) Human dignity is intrinsically valuable, which means that objectively speaking, it is of equal importance that each person’s life “go well.” 2) Human dignity entails personal responsibility to choose what one will do with one’s life. Conduct which infringes on others’ rights to make choices about their own lives is not ethically tenable (Dworkin, 2007). Cosmopolitans see human dignity as the central raison-d’être for global justice. While this idea might at first be attractive, consider an unattractive consequence. In a cosmopolitan global justice framework, it would be morally wrong for a wealthy American to donate any money to a struggling American school, since the American school is relatively well-off in comparison to a struggling school in Afghanistan. Giving philanthropic support to an American school would be ethically wrong to a cosmopolitan. Doing so would be perpetuating global injustice

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insofar as it helps those who are already relatively privileged. Addressing domestic injustice (by donating to Teach for America, or any of the hundreds of nonprofits that address inequity of education in America) is unethical. The global educational divide would be perpetuated if philanthropists did not address the absolutely least well-off. Only after all children in the world have achieved some modicum of equity can a wealthy philanthropist ethically give to his alma mater, or to a charter school in East Palo Alto. The cosmopolitan global justice view is very hard on philanthropists who wish to remedy inequities close to home. The view suggests that the associational ties people have to their home communities are morally irrelevant, as are the political ties citizens have to their fellow citizens.

Middle Ground: Community Based Global Justice
Cosmopolitan and Statist Political views of global justice are both unpalatable in some ways: Cosmopolitanism because it does not admit the strength of proximal relational ties or the moral significant of political frameworks, and Statism because it denies any moral obligation to help noncitizens. Would it be possible to conceive of a global justice account that avoids these pitfalls? This view of global justice cannot rely on political ties, yet it must appreciate the special consideration due to fellow members of a community. I propose a combined network of political and associational ties be the basis for a global sphere of justice that reflects the communities of which one are a part. This sphere of justice would include both individuals who are tied through institutional mechanisms (fellow citizens) as well as individuals who are connected to them via associational ties (community members, friends, and their networks). This combination of networks recognizes the obligation of care that certainly exist between citizens of the same state as well as the ties that certainly exist between individuals who know and love each other.

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National identity and institutional membership in a nation-state certainly necessitate an obligation of care to fellow citizens. So too does community membership and neighborhood. In our new age of information technology and with our ever-widening capacity for transportation, we are increasingly able to form bonds of friendship across national boundaries. Forming deep friendships which come with feelings of obligation is increasingly possible even across national boundaries. Since is it feasible to have many personal experiences with people in other countries, it is now necessary to define a sphere of justice which accounts for the associations that are formed transnationally. Ranging from the deep and long-lasting experiences of Peace Corps members, to the shorter, more transient ones of donors experience, experiences that individuals have across international boundaries are generating deep feelings of obligation (Aaker and Chang, 2010). I contend that once an individual is linked in an obligation of care to another, she is also linked in (in a less strong way) to that individual’s extended network. So for instance, if my roommate at Stanford is from Botswana, I am now networked to her in a meaningful way. Our close friendship, despite our cultural and citizenship differences, generates an obligation of care in me for her. And because of my connection to her, I am now (more loosely) connected to her family in Botswana. Somewhat more remotely, I am connected to her village there as well. I know what difficulties she had to go through in primary and secondary school to make it to Stanford. I know about her family, and know how important they are to her. I know that she did not have a local primary school in her town, and that she had to walk 3 miles every day to get to the closest one. Since I know about her situation (and care deeply about her), I am morally implicated not only in her life, but in the lives of her immediate family and compatriots. They are meaningful to her, so to respect her human dignity, I need to take her ends as my own to some degree (Kant, 1781). Of course it was an arbitrary turn of fate that brought us together to be roommates, and a somewhat voluntary decision on my part to befriend her, but the fact that I know about her context, and care about her deeply now means that I have a moral obligation to help her now. In fact, the

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arbitrariness of our meeting makes my obligation to care for her community that much stronger. It could easily have been her sister or her cousin who was fortunate enough to come to Stanford. As Rawls says, membership in political communities is arbitrary, but the duty to eliminate morally arbitrary sources of inequality is not arbitrary (Rawls, 1971). We build friendships and form communities in sometimes unintentional ways. But the duty that we have to care for one another, after we have formed those communities, is not optional. While it is impractical to suggest that individuals have an obligation to make these connections, it is not impractical to suggest that once they are formed, the individuals involved uphold their duty. This comes as welcome news to philanthropists interested in international education. By choosing to start relationships with people in the developing world, they could generate an associative bond which would give them a duty to care, and would allow them access to a justice framework. In this justice framework, they would be able to justify delivering high quality education above and beyond that which the humanitarian framework permits. Permitting international education recipients into a philanthropist’s sphere of justice would justify giving educational aid which is effective at reducing inequity of opportunity (elite quality education), not aid which just reproduces inequality by maintaining disparity (minimal standard education). The philanthropist would not be reneging on her obligation to humanitarian causes by giving what seems like a lot of money to an education initiative since this aid is not considered in a humanitarian framework. Neither would the philanthropist be reneging on her obligation to domestic education justice since domestic children and the girl in Botswana are all part of the same sphere of justice.

This composite, Community Based conception of global justice also resolves the tension brought up by the moral unit of analysis problem. The increasing stature of non-state entities complicates the way we understand the moral obligation individuals have to care for a community or a foreign nation. Philanthropists of high net worth have available to them the means to affect

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nation-level change. In the past, nations have been the predominant institution acting on other nations, but today vast wealth differentials and the availability of philanthropic channels to deliver aid make it possible for mixed-size institutions to interact. John Rawls explained a multi-part theory of justice that varied its obligations of care depending on the size of the institution in question (Rawls, 1971). For instance, there are different conventions of acceptable intervention when a household chooses to prohibit its children from attending a religious service, than when a nation prohibits its members from practicing their religious beliefs freely. In both cases, the freedom of religion is being infringed, but in the former case, standards of family privacy and parental rights trump the children’s basic rights to freedom of religion. The difference lies in the unit of moral analysis. Obligations of care are determinable when both institutions involved are of comparable size -- as is the case when individuals act on individuals or nations on nations. But when the actors’ institutional sizes are not the same, as in the case of large-scale philanthropy, the obligations of care would either need to be commensurate with the giver’s institutional size or the recipient’s. It is not clear which one should be used. This presents a challenge to traditional global justice considerations that advocate a pluralist approach to obligations of care, and suggests that finding a single conception of justice -- applicable to all institution sizes -- is necessary to avoid arbitrary decisions about which unit of moral analysis to use.

Taking the Community Based approach to global justice, we identify a way to synthesize mixed moral units of anylsis. Once a philanthropist has an obligation to care for an individual transnationally, she has an obligation to respect his human dignity. Respecting the recipient’s dignity means attending to his cultural tradition, his history of struggle, and his contextual placement. It means appreciating that an individual’s status as a person in need is linked to structural inequalities. Poverty is institutional (Mitchell, 2008). Therefore to help one person achieve their full potential a

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philanthropist needs to become involved in the whole community. This is not additional baggage for the philanthropist. This is an opportunity to radically change the life of an individual that she cares about -- who is member of her sphere of justice -- in a way that was not permitted through statist or cosmopolitan conceptions of global justice or humanitarianism. Community Based global justice allows a philanthropist to access an obligation of care to a community through a deep connection to an individual in that community. Developing this obligation of care is important because it will justify deep philanthropic giving in education that is effective at addressing socioeconomic inequality. Without a justification for high quality education, the philanthropist has no incentive to give support for anything over a minimal standard, which we will see in chapter 3 are ineffective at erasing barriers to equity (Blossfield and Shavit, 1993).

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The Role of Education in Development: What We Can Expect it to Do
In the first chapter, I introduced the role of equity in mass education and the need to monitor both high-performing and low-performing students within an education system in order to improve equity. I showed that tracking the changes in educational attainment of only underserved communities is not sufficient for reducing inequality, and is in fact likely to perpetuate inequality by granting non-institutional measures of educational advantage greater significance. Equal distribution of a state’s resources for education to all children is relatively easy to demand (and it has the advantage of seeming to promote fairness), but doing this does not stop higher net worth families from giving after-school support, extra tutoring, and a host of other human capital improving tools to their children which the poor cannot afford. So implementing policies of equal resource allocation, non-intuitively, ensures inequities of educational outcome. This is where philanthropists can act. They can allocate funding for wrap-around services for the least well off that will compensate for the external advantages elites bring to their own education. This discussion of educational equity assumes that education is a valuable good. We have been laboring up until this point under the impression that there is a reason why education is linked to the moral question of opportunity and well-being. But is this assumption valid? What is the basis for this assumption, and what is education actually good for? Educational opportunity comes at great cost, yet its purported benefits often go unidentified, unexamined, and unquestioned. In this chapter, I return to the question of the value of education by reviewing some of the outcomes most commonly attributed to educational expansion: social equality, wage-earning potential, national

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economic development, community health, population size control, and political democratization. The empirical evidence found by researchers in international and comparative education may be surprising to philanthropists and policy makers who hope to carry out development work through education. But having realistic expectations for the use of education and the particular advantages that different types and levels of education provide will be crucial to persons in positions to make allocation decisions. To briefly summarize the findings before I go into more depth: there is relatively strong evidence to support the claim that increased access to education slows population growth in countries experiencing untenable expansions in population size, improves health for men, women and children, and positively influences wages (although the effects of different types of schooling vary tremendously). There is, however, substantial evidence that shows that the effect of increasing the number of individuals in school does not necessarily increase the number with productive jobs after they leave school or the number who are able to escape poverty. The correlation between educational access improvement in socioeconomic standing (at an individual level) is difficult to determine and context dependent. The correlation between educational expansion and national economic growth is very tenuous. And finally, decades of cross-national research shows that merely expanding educational access (without a differential attention to the least well off) does little to change social and economic inequality. These empirical findings are salient to philanthropists who are seeking to address systemic injustice through education. Understanding what we can expect education to accomplish, and how to improve its ability to equalize socioeconomic opportunity is crucial to developing notions about what types of projects to fund.

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“Education for All” Blueprint
In their article called “Worldwide Expansion of Higher Education in the Twentieth Century,” Schofer and Meyer chart the incredible global expansion of higher education between 1900 and 2000. They present an explanatory argument for this expansion that says that nations most closely affiliated with the world polity are the ones which experience the fastest educational expansion (Schofer and Meyer, 2005). In particular, “increasing democratization and human rights, scientization, and the advent of development planning” is associated with institutional linkages to the international community and subscription to international norms (Schofer and Meyer, 2005, p 917). Participating in international conferences, and belonging to international governmental organizations, are all mechanisms through which nations transmit and receive broader cultural norms. Imitation, coercion, and pressure to conform to norms are how information about national expectations gets conveyed. Since World War II, that information has been: in order to be perceived as a legitimate state, at a minimum they must have a free and compulsory system of primary education for all children. (Ramirez, 1997; Anderson 1991). Expectations above a minimum level of primary education also exist, but they are not mandatory in the same way. But if a country were to announce they do not have free compulsory primary education, they would risk not being considered a sovereign state; they would be considered unable to care for their citizens (Chabbott and Ramirez, 2000). There is, of course a loose coupling (or sometimes a complete decoupling) between stated aims of a national education system and the reality that it is able to implement (Boli and Thomas, 1997). Many, many countries just do not have sufficient funds or a strong enough infrastructure to implement full universal access, even if their intentions were to fulfill it. Beyond this, expectations for opportunities to attend secondary and tertiary school have come to be included in global norms. As these norms are transmitted between countries, carried by consultants, and reiterated in publications, they have solidified into an Education for All blueprint. This blueprint is seen as central to human development, universally applicable, and highly exportable (Anderson, 1991;

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Blossfield and Shavit, 245). Several decades ago, there were worldwide calls for the adoption of the blueprint in countries that lagged behind in developmentally. They complied, agreeing that increasing educational access would be away to tap into unused human capital (Shofer and Meyer, 2005). Now there are worldwide calls for countries to adequately implement their own education goals. To a large extent these calls and international attention spotlights have made good headway in increasing student enrollment, improving opportunities for girls, and making education more free for students (Hannum and Buchmann, 2003). The formally disadvantaged are making strides toward becoming better educated. But as the clamor for universal educational opportunities becomes louder, the story about relative access between elites and the lower strata is getting drowned out (Blossfield and Shavit, 258). A serious problem with globally mandated Education for All policies is that it does nothing to address social inequity within a nation. Education for All encourages and enables elites within a country seek higher standards of education. This elite education happens “under the radar” of developmental analysts, who find it easy to ignore the parallel growth in educational attainment of the people they are not helping. But to ignore the increasing attainment of the elites (in secondary school, university, and beyond) is to ignore issues of inequity which are highly damaging to national unity, economic success and human rights. I turn now to the three main rationales given for the expansion of the Education for All agenda: the Economic Functionalist Rationale, the Human Rights Rationale, and the Equity Rationale. I attempt to determine the validity of each of these very different theoretical underpinnings for a universal education policy, and show how they can be understood in light of a global justice framework.

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Economic Functionalist Rationale for the Expansion of Education
One of the most deeply rooted ideas about the value of education lies in the assumed relationship it has to occupational and economic empowerment. The expansion of mass education in the last 150 years has been accompanied by the belief that education will increase an individual's human capital, earning potential, health, and capacity for political involvement. The assumption is that individuals who have a higher level of education will be able to get better paid work and achieve a higher standard of living for themselves and their offspring. Higher credentialing would afford workers greater access to higher paid work, which would increase a nation’s aggregate capacity to produce and generate income, which in turn would lead to an expansion of economic dominance and international power. Francisco Ramirez describes five legitimizing myths that, taken together, provide an explanation for the how the economic functionalist rationale gained such a strong foothold in America, Western Europe and the wider world community. These myths originated in the metropole, but have diffused to many of the world’s countries through the diffusion of world cultural norms, imitation and coercive strategies. They are:

1) the individual is the central decision-making actor, 2) the nation is just the aggregate of individuals in the nation, 3) progress is possible! Both citizens and nations have the capacity to improve themselves, make themselves richer, and develop capacities, 4) all people are sociable and educable, 5) the sovereign state is the rightful defender of nationality. (Ramirez and Boli, 1987).

These beliefs are so institutionalized in Western Europe, America and development agencies that they have become part of the fabric of our subconscious. We do not stop to think about why

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education is valuable; we assume that it is (at least in part) because of the economic opportunity it affords individuals and communities. Interestingly, these myths arose as an internal legitimizing mechanism for action being taken to satisfy external pressure, alluded to here, to increase education. The myths have a “primary importance for our understanding of the process by which mass schooling became a necessary part of the response to external challenges to state power” (Ramirez and Boli, 1987, p 10). The external pressure, alluded to here, is the global norm that a legitimate nation-state has an expansive education system and educates all of its citizens (Ramirez, 1997). Nations that are trying to establish themselves on the world stage must prove to other countries that they are modern, organized, capable, and interested in certain democratic principles. Thus they start education systems. All non-superpower countries (countries with unquestioned hegemony), feel pressure to abide by global norms that demand education. In the mid twentieth century, the United States did not worry about its education standing in an international sense, but in the last few decades, it has increasingly become obsessed with its relative ranking. Science, math, reading, and graduation rates are of particular concern, as the United States’ children have not been “measuring up” to children in Japan, Singapore, Germany, Canada, and many other countries (Drori et al., 2003). This fact has been used as evidence that the US has lost its hegemony on the world stage. President Obama and his predecessors have made education a priority at least in part because of the fear that slipping scholastic achievement presages economic stagnation and scientific regression. Arne Duncan and the Obama Department of Education support the belief that improving American schools is a powerful mechanism for improving the nation’s economic outlook. Taking a “pragmatist” approach, Duncan and his advisors advocate for investments in early education, primary and secondary school, and college access. The Administration’s Guiding Principles are centrally guided by economic concerns. They state:

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Providing a high-quality education for all children is critical to America’s economic future. Our nation’s economic competitiveness and the path to the American Dream depend on providing every child with an education that will enable them to succeed in a global economy that is predicated on knowledge and innovation. President Obama is committed to providing every child access to a complete and competitive education, from cradle through career (

How Sound is the Economic Functionalist Rationale? Not Very.
A significant body of longitudinal, cross-national research suggests that the relationship between increasing mass schooling and economic development is problematic (Hannum and Buchmann, 2003; Pritchett, 1996; Krueger and Lindahl, 2000). Some studies show a beneficial relationship between increasing enrollment rates in school and national economic development (for instance Barro, 1991), but it is unclear which variable is the causal one. Is the country developing because more children are in school, or are more children in school because the country is developing for other independent reasons? It is almost impossible to isolate education development as a factor in the complex web of social forces, so determining the real role of education on development and development on education is incredibly difficult. Yet some clever, new studies have been able to tease out the causal factor. They conclude that there is little connection between mere increases in school enrollment and national economic development. (Hannum and Buchmann, 2003; Chabbot and Ramirez, 2000). Pritchett, in particular shows that “the rate of growth of educational capital is not significantly related to growth in GDP per worker” (Pritchett, 1996). This is a crucial finding to highlight for philanthropy professionals; changing a country’s economic trajectory is not as simple as increasing mass education expenditure or increasing school enrollment rates. Merely being in school is not enough to give a child the same benefits that wealthier students have when they are in school. More extensive supportive networks and “wrap around services” are

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needed so that children may access the same benefits wealthier children have when they are in an “equal” school environment. Francisco Ramirez reviews evidence that more years in school increases individual students’ personal earning potential (Ramirez, 1997). Yet this evidence does not hold universally across all countries; in fact developing countries do not experience as strong a correlation between length of enrollment and earnings. This may be because developing countries do not have an adequate job market where graduates can use their education (Collins, 1979). In general, students in developing countries find more personal economic benefit from primary school expansion than from increased secondary and tertiary school expansion. The reverse is true in developed countries. Particular benefit comes from increased expenditure on science and technical education (Chabbott and Ramirez, 2000). The failure of the economic functionalist explanation for education for all asks us to find another justification for the global norm of education for all. Can the defense of human rights justify the expansion of universal education? Does universal education actually defend human rights effectively, and if so, is this the rationale that philanthropists should use to defend their international aid?

Human Rights Rationale for the Expansion of Education
The Human Rights rationale says that education, like housing, bodily integrity, and nutrition, is a basic right of all people. Proponents of this theory say that education is fundamental to what it means to be a human. A human rights defense of education demands educational standards for individuals regardless of their citizenship or the ability of their government to adequately provide for them. The idea of personhood trumps citizenship in some ways, and makes membership in specific nation-states less relevant to the rights individuals (ought to) have. Personhood is “a conception of

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human persons in abstract, universal terms, supported by legal, scientific and popular conventions” which form the normative foundation for human rights (Soysal, 1997). When education is conceived of as a human right, theorists must define a objective minimum standard of education that all people are due. The 26th Article of the United Nation’s Declaration on Human Rights describes the right to education as they understand it: • (1) Everyone has the right to education. Education shall be free, at least in the elementary and fundamental stages. Elementary education shall be compulsory. Technical and professional education shall be made generally available and higher education shall be equally accessible to all on the basis of merit. • (2) Education shall be directed to the full development of the human personality and to the strengthening of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms. It shall promote understanding, tolerance and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups, and shall further the activities of the United Nations for the maintenance of peace. • (3) Parents have a prior right to choose the kind of education that shall be given to their children (UN, 1948).

In the global discourse on education, the human rights rationale has gained considerable prominence, with support from the International Development Agency, most Western nations, and the general international aid community (Ramirez, 2006). Individual welfare rights are now the defining characteristic of human rights discourse (Chabbott and Ramirez, 2000). Agreement in international conferences, scholarship, and global norms has formed around the the idea of the individual as the unit of moral analysis whose particular nation-state membership is not relevant to her right to an education. This is thanks in part to information technology and the “flattening” of the world through globalization. We are now able to see the rates of “education poverty” (the number of people who have had fewer than four years of schooling) around the world much more

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easily. When disparities between rich developed countries and poor developing countries have become much more obvious, the reflex to adopt international standards based on the primacy of the individual are quite strong. Yet there is significant debate about how to define the minimal standard of education that would satisfy a human rights rationale. Minimal standards for education are not constant across nation boundaries. Depending on the development agent’s perspective, different levels of education seem necessary. In 2000, The Millennium Summit gathered together 147 world leaders to establish 18 quantifiable development targets, now known as the Millennium Development Goals, or MDG. Among them, achieving absolutely universal global primary education by 2015 for both boys and girls, and “eliminating gender disparity in primary and secondary education, preferably by 2005, and in all levels of education no later than 2015” (UNESCO, 2000). But what was not addressed in the MDG was the level of primary education to be taken as “standard” nor the ways in which differences in quality across national boundaries would (or ought) to be addressed. A larger looming question is whether giving all children a primary level education will be useful to them in improving their quality of life, improving their outlook, and aiding them in contributing to their local and global communities. Beyond that, there is the worry that providing access will not effect national or community development. As I have shown in the previous section on the failure of the economic functionalist rationale, empirical evidence does not support the conclusion that educational expansion will necessarily lead to improvements in quality of life either individually or nationally. Because issues of equity between top performing students and low performing students were not addressed in any of the MDG education goals we can infer that the MDG were aimed more at population and health metrics, but not economic development ones. The economic development benefits of education are only accrued by leveling inequality, not by expanding mass education (Hannum and Buchmann, 2003). The MDG, and any goals that are based on a minimal standard approach, are limited in changing individual and national measures of economic growth and equity.

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Even though the human rights rationale might seem intuitive and attractive, it is problematic for international philanthropists. Sovereign governmental policy makers and domestic philanthropists can (more) easily engineer a human-rights approach to education because they are in a position to address the needs of all their citizens; yet philanthropists who are working with only a targeted number of people in need and with significantly smaller funds cannot justify taking a humanitarian approach to education. As I have shown in chapter two, taking a humanitarian approach to philanthropy essentially precludes philanthropists from acting in the education sector at all. So many more urgent humanitarian crises (like responses to tsunamis, starvation, and civil war) crowd out the calls for education. Thus, a human rights rationale is insufficient for motivating a justice framework for international educational philanthropy. It should be noted that humanitarian-backed educational philanthropy, should it exist, cannot justify giving any aid above the established minimal standard. At least until all children reach the agreed-upon minimal standard, no child anywhere in the world ought to receive additional support. A consequence of this would be that philanthropists could not legitimately support educational deficiencies in their own nation if there were greater deficiencies in other nations. For example, philanthropists in America could not rationalize giving money to under-served communities in California while more dire absolute need existed in Malawi. This is clearly an undesirable consequence. Proximal relationships link individuals to the people and communities closest to them. The nature of these connections gives donors intimate knowledge of the suffering of their neighbors, and they have a compelling to try to alleviate some of this need. Giving to fellow citizens is also politically obligatory in the sense that membership in a centralized institution demands a certain degree of care for needy fellow citizens (. Thus keeping the defense of education merely in

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the realm of minimal or adequate standards, obscures the inherent source of value for education, namely a comparable opportunity to succeed among a group of peers.

Equity Rationale
Perhaps we can to construct a rationale for expanding universal education by arguing that it will increase equity. This would be the reason that the justice-framework would demand, and which would allow a thorough justification for international educational philanthropy. Will ensuring that all children are in school, give them a level playing-field from which they will be able to compete for scare resources and earn a living wage? Research shows that the impact of resource equity within a national education system has the same magnitude of positive effect on national performance in international math and science assessments (like the TIMSS) that the impact of average national wealth has (Baker, LeTendre and Goesling, 2002). In other words, the degree to which education funds are evenly distributed is comparable to the effect the GDP of the country has on education outcomes. This and other evidence suggests that watching the top performers in education and increasing equity have strong positive effects on the whole system. But how should this be carried out? Creating high quality schools and improving the experience of the underserved so that it is on par with the experience of the wealthiest students, not by merely expanding low-performing schools at the bottom, could achieve this goal. In their article “Persisting Barriers,”Blossfield and Shivit show that “educational expansion actually facilitates to a large extent the persistence of inequalities in educational opportunity” (Blossfield and Shavit, 1993, pp 258). Their research examined 13 (primarily developed) countries in Europe and Asia and America, and concluded that despite universal educational expansion, educational inequity remained stable in the last century. Without raising the

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quality of education of the disadvantaged students in a system to a comparable level with the elites, inequity of life prospects will persist. Hannum and Buchmann do a thorough review of comparative education literature and show that “education does not in fact narrow social inequities by promoting a meritocratic basis for status attainment” (Hannum and Buchmann, 2003). Merely expanding educational access without leveling quality does not promote equity.

Objections to the Equity Rationale
Would it be enough to institute a higher minimally adequate standard of education? If we could determine what children need in order to pull themselves out of poverty, then maybe creating a truly equitable system is not necessary. There are some education professionals who advocate for this type of development strategy -- saying that raising the bar sufficiently high will allow all children to succeed. And it is true, in some contexts where the gap between the highest performing and the lowest is extremely large, it seems that instituting a minimum would be a reasonable and appropriate way to get the ball moving on equity. For instance, in Malawi, where extreme poverty and extreme differences in wealth exist, starting a Free Education for All program in 1994 after the first democratically elections seemed wise. But school materials, teachers, and school building space were all desperately inadequate to handle 1.4 million new schoolchildren, and a national fiasco soon ensued. Emergency temporary teachers were recruited, yet the primary school teacher to pupil ratios rose to as high as 100:1. In schools with enormous differences in demand and capacity, the quality of instruction plummeted, and students from wealthier families fled the public school system for private schools (UN, 2010). So despite the effort to give all students a free elementary education, increasing mass education without adequate preparation and proportionately higher spending on the least-well off further entrenched inequality in Malawi rather than erased it. The choice to start Free Education for All in Malawi arose out of popular demand and a cobbled-together patchwork of supposedly one-size-fits-all development education blueprints that the global world polity codified as

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“best practices.” This is just one example of how an equity-motivated plan for education expansion failed because there was insufficient attention paid to the elites. Perhaps if philanthropists had been involved and had been able to contribute funds earmarked to help provide school materials and hire teachers in the poorest neighborhoods, where situations were most dire, a smoother and more equitable transition to a universal elementary education could have been facilitated. Some say that it is too difficult to create a system of education that truly enables the most disadvantaged children to have an elite-quality education. They argue there is a natural differentiating process whereby some children do not become college educated. They say that because society needs workforce differentiation, we cannot all be university professors! But to a large extent the resistance that is put up to equity based prorated education can be attributed to the self-preservation instincts of the wealthy. Privileged families do not have an incentive to to see their children’s credentials “diminished” by wider availability. They support a political agenda that is not aimed at increasing equity for the reason that it does not seem to benefit them. While this is a fact of politics, it is not ethically tenable from a perspective that seeks to value all human lives equally, nor is it tenable from a broad picture which shows that the whole system will be improved if equity is increased. Certainly, allocating equal lump sums to all schools is the easier solution; it is bureaucratically simple, politically clean, and intuitive. But doing so ignores the inevitable parental contributions that elites will make to their children’s education. Social and economic capital transfers -- having more books in the home, hiring tutors, taking trips to science museums, enrolling their children in private schools, etc. -- need to be counter-balanced by proportionately more spending on the less-advantaged through either governmental or philanthropic channels. In countries where internal governments cannot afford this type of spending, philanthropists have a justice-based obligation to deliver high quality education to the least advantaged.

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Equity vs Quality?
In the last 20 years, there has been a shift in the literature away from supporting efforts that promote “educational equity,” to “educational quality.” (Baker and LeTendre, 2005, p.71) Yet despite this somewhat counter-intuitive change in rhetoric, this change does not signal a dismissal of the importance of equity. In fact, it underscores the importance of equity by reorganizing the dialectic from inclusivity to terms of inclusivity. That is to say, the emphasis on quality that we see today describes an emphasis on delivering quality education to people who currently experience the lowest quality of education. In a sense this marks success (many tens of millions more children have access to primary education in 2010 than they did in 1960). Development agencies, governments and philanthropists are self-congratulatory about their success in bringing children into schools who had been entirely excluded before. These professionals are seeking to change the discussion to focus on improving education for the most vulnerable children. This is absolutely essential if education is intended to effect socioeconomic outcome. I mention this shift in dialectic to warn against complacency. We have not yet reached equity, despite the new rhetoric suggesting that equal access is being replaced by newer concerns. Some seventy-seven million children are still out of school around the world today. Clearly we still have a long way to go to get to full inclusivity, but there is substantial hope that the vast majority of the world’s children will have access to some kind of primary education within the next two decades (UNESCO). Although it should be noted that this hope has been held since the 1960s when the obsession with target setting began in ernest and we have have yet to make good on most of those targets (Jansen, 2005). Setting targets for achieving universal primary education have failed every time they have been set. First in Addis Ababa in 1961, then in Jomtien, Thailand in 1990, and most recently in Dakar in 2000. Despite ever-longer time horizons, countries and agencies have not been able to reach their goal (Jansen, 2005). What is the use of setting targets if we are not able to meet them?

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Politically, it is untenable to suggest that universal primary education is not possible, even though the World Bank estimates that we are $5.2 billion short of being able to achieve that goal (UNESCO, 2003). It is no longer legitimate to contend that some children do not deserve an education or to admit that there is no money to provide for it. All countries of the world tout Education for All as both a human right and a way to tap into human capital for national progress (Ramirez, 2006). Philanthropists may have an important role to play in closing this gap between policy and practice where funding is the limiting factor. Yet even in this political atmosphere where it is necessary to aim for universal primary education, it is still that case that the more credentialed citizens will always outcompete the less credentialed. So if reducing poverty, increasing earning potential, and increasing equity are of concern, education policies must be equity focused. No standard of minimal education is high enough to grant equal opportunity.

Education is a uniquely important aspect of development. It acts in a special way to allow educated persons to engage in a fulfilling occupation, to protect their basic rights (to nutrition, healthcare, freedom of religion, and many more), to improve their children's health and their own, and to communicate meaningfully with others. But education’s power for economic development (both for individuals and a nation) rests largely on its ability to deliver comparable educational outcomes to all the children in the sphere of justice. The benefits of education are accrued from the relative standing it affords children. Therefore, maintaining comparable educational quality between elites and disadvantaged people is crucial. For philanthropists interested in international educational inequity, only a justice-based form of aid is possible.

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As discussed in Chapter 2, this justice sphere must include both wealthy Western donors and the developing nation’s institutions. It follows that the education Western donors supply must be on par with their own version of “elite education.” This means that building low quality schoolbuildings, cutting corners in teacher salary, and shortchanging wrap around services are not consistent with the demands of justice. Elite-quality educational resources are necessary to reduce socioeconomic inequity. Even if this means reducing the number of students who can be helped, philanthropists have a duty to treat their recipients with dignity, and to help them have equal access to the highest quality education available. Philanthropists are in a bind about acting in a justice framework. The Cowell Foundation in San Francisco carries out what it calls “place-based, complementary” grant-making. It works within a justice framework by focusing on fulfilling a community’s whole needs in order to effectively improve educational outcomes (S.H. Cowell, 2010). This type of aid is much more expensive since it covers many more social services than mere school materials and teacher support, which means that they are able to help fewer communities and reach fewer people. But they work very effectively to resolve some of the discrepancies that go beyond school based inequality that affect education outcomes. The Cowell Foundation might fund maternal health programs, low-income housing projects, water safety initiatives, de-worming drugs for children, vitamin supplements, and anti-diarrhetic medications. All of these things do not seem to be directly related to educational development, but they do in fact have a hugely positive effect on educational opportunity. Communities with adequate basic needs are able to support their children in a way that will allow them to compete with elites who already have these advantages. This is just one example of justice-based educational philanthropy among many approaches. Taking a holistic approach to the needs of a community, and acknowledging systemic reasons for educational gaps between social classes is a trademark of justice-based educational philanthropy whether international or domestic.

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The Impact Model of Philanthropy: Appropriate for International Education?
The philanthropic sector is a lively one, replete with compelling stories and contradictory theories of change. In this chapter, I sketch the major dimensions of what I will call the impact model in modern philanthropy. The impact model is a spectrum of philanthropic approaches in which the philanthropist makes analytical decisions about allocation based on perceived measurements of success, funding efficiency, and intensity of change. I represent some of the central practical and linguistic trademarks of the philanthropic endeavor and show that, far from being unimportant, the rhetoric used to discuss philanthropic work is critically influential to the practical decisions foundations make. The particular words and tone used to describe interactions between philanthropists and grantees actually color the aid that is given and affect in a real way the work that is being done in the field. I highlight some positive assets the Impact Model has brought to philanthropic practice, and ask what challenges it presents to accomplishing philanthropic missions. Then I turn to the Partnership Model (alternatively called the Relationship Model, the ServiceLearning Model, the Social Relations Model), and delineate how it resolves some of the difficulties that the Impact Model presents by focusing on mutual giving and learning paradigms. Finally, I bring the discussion back to the case of philanthropy for international education, and ask which model (or combination of models) best supports the necessary conditions of justice-based aid.

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The Impact Model
The impact model describes a philanthropic practice whose central motivation is to make “as big a difference” with as few resources as possible. It came into popularity in the 1990s as successful business-people began to be involved in the donation of their own newly acquired wealth, and still grips the philanthropic world today. Dot-com millionaires who had business expertise felt a natural predilection to apply business tactics to philanthropy when they became involved in their own wealth disbursements. The impact model grew out of a historical public goods model, in which philanthropists tried to fulfill a public need, or satisfy a public good which government and market actors were incapable or unwilling to address (Sievers, 2010; Kymlicka, 2001). The public goods model of philanthropy does not stipulate a particular concern for minimizing input resources, but rather focuses on eliminating the need for future funding support by eliminating the social ill. In contrast, the impact model focuses intensely on minimizing the donor’s input (Duncan, 2004). Emphasizing efficiency of organizational action, impact philanthropists try to stretch every penny to the farthest extent to wring out its potential to make positive change in the world. Using cost-cutting measures and demanding a high return (of social goods), the philanthropist acts like an investment banker or businesswoman. The only difference is that she is not expecting money in return for her investment, but rather progress on a social mission. The highly stylized scientized rhetoric of the impact model parallels the rhetoric of for-profit business and market strategy. It came into vogue for its optimistic sense of possibility and its sense of rigorous productivity. Business-savvy philanthropists favored the nonprofits that promised to give the most bang for their buck. So, in deference to these business-minded donors, nonprofit grant seekers began to modify their grant writing rhetoric. Grantees were successful when they adhered to the code of impact vocabulary; it made them appear accomplishment-focused, efficient, and accountable. Impact terminology began to be used as a way to compete for scarce funding, and as a

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way to prove organizational legitimacy to donors. Being versed in the language of maximization, cost-effectiveness and margins of returns made grantees more successful in earning grant money. The impact model has now risen to near unassailable dominance in the discourse on philanthropy (Duncan, 2004). We now live in a world where “philanthrocapitalism” is a commonly understood (and mostly venerated) portmanteau. “Applying the skills of moneymaking to the philanthropic enterprise” is seen as the gold standard of philanthropic practice (Bishop and Green, 2008). It is no longer acceptable for nonprofits to use narrative accounts, photographic evidence or persuasive non-quantitative results as their only form of reporting. They are expected to prove both their efficiency and effectiveness or risk losing their funding to other prospective grantees with a more demonstrable “social return on investment.” Modern philanthropy has to a large extent become a search for the best way to maximize social returns with minimal investment. For the most part, philanthropists have excellent intentions when they use impact language. They want their dollars to be “highly effective,” and they want to be able to “do the most good” for any given amount of money that they are willing to donate. They want to reduce waste and target money where it is most needed (Brest, 2010).

The Psycholinguistic Effects of “impact vocabulary” on donors, grantees, and their relationship
• What impact has this new vocabulary had on the philanthropic sector? Whatever your response to that question, you probably found it an intelligible one. This is proof that the word “impact,” and metaphorically charged language more generally, has become assimilated into common parlance. Yet we are unconscious of the subtle ways it may be guiding our thinking. I argue here that the use of market-based rhetoric has reshaped the donor and grantee roles, and the way that they interact.

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Psycholinguists have found that metaphor is an incredibly strong tool for influencing listeners. When a word is used in a metaphoric way, its metaphoric meaning is easily understood and requires no additional transmission of data to explain its meaning. “Studies of metaphor comprehension have found no differences in the time taken to understand metaphorically- and literally-intended expressions” (Glucksberg, 2003). Thus when “high impact,” “force for change,” “leveraging input,” “getting the most bang for your buck,” etc. are used to refer to what philanthropists are doing to their grantees (or problems) we not only hear the intended meaning, but also the also the connotations the original words have. For this vocabulary, the overriding metaphoric implication is that a forceful collision is taking place. You might imagine a strong baseball player at bat. When the ball is pitched to him he whacks it with tremendous impact. If he has the right positioning, skill, and strength, he can get a home-run and improve his batting average. What is this metaphorical picture saying about the social problem (represented by the ball) and the philanthropist (represented by the player)? The Player (the philanthropist) *has unquestionable position of power *is not impacted himself *gains personal advantage from a successful impact (gets a home-run) *determines the method and style of the impact The Baseball (the social problem) *is powerless *is the object of the impact *becomes lost and unimportant as soon as it has been used to get a home-run *has no choice about how it is treated or impacted

Now if we examine the content of the “social problem” we see that it is often instantiated in people. Suppose it were the lack of quality education in Africa. Then the problem is, in a sense, the uneducated people in Africa. Or if it were poverty in Harlem, then the problem would be the poor people in Harlem. Or if it were HIV rates in Thailand, then it would be the sick people in Thailand. Changing social problems means changing people.

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Thus the metaphor is premised on the objectification of individuals. It says that the recipient ought to be manipulated by (wealthier) people who can help him escape his social situation. Impact metaphors deny that the grantee has any value -- only problems. It suggests that the philanthropist knows the best way to change the grantee and does not need information or reflection from the community partners. It does not foster collaborative association and information exchange because it is so simplistic in its notion about the roles that philanthropists and grantees ought to play. Power and information are exclusively held by the donor’ problems and need are the sole purview of the grantee. Impact philanthropy valorizes the descriptive power of a forceful collision, saying that the bigger the change that can be brought about on the “impactee” the more successful the philanthropy. This kind of implied imagery defines the giver-recipient relationship as diametrically opposed. It anticipates conflict and suggests that the grantee would be resistant to change. Because donors and recipients often come from different backgrounds, their collision would entail a clash of cultures. The effect has been colonizing. That is to say, impact language supports the notion that the donor’s ideals are inherently worthy of implementation, and so encourages the prioritization of their cultural approach. It has encouraged bold (sometimes risky) behavior to forcefully change social problems. To some extent, it has emboldened philanthropists to “dream big” and to tackle large problems creatively. But it has also encouraged the acceptance of extant power structures by supposing that there is a natural actor and a natural object-like recipient. I worry that it has also had a dampening effect on discussions around the subtle philanthropic relationship and its potential for bringing about systemic reducations of injustice. If achieving impact is sufficient to fix a social ill, what need is there for critical discussion about the notion of power-stratified relationships and systemic imbalance of power?

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The Supski Foundation in San Francisco, which is actively committed to the practice of knowledge sharing and disbursement of responsibility, has found that foundations which exhibit impact tendencies have these problems: • Obsession with strategy, • Predisposition to hoard, • Lack of curiosity, • Simplistic view of issues (lack of a systems orientation), • Fear of what might be learned, • Misunderstanding of unique potential of foundations/philanthropy” (Culwell, 2008).

Conceptualizing of themselves as banks that dole out money to nonprofits, impact philanthropists shut themselves into a narrowly defined role. They foster the same market tactics (intense competition, diversification, individualization) that caused the original dramatic wealth differential. They are using the method that generated the social ill -- a market approach -- to address the problem. Because impact philanthropists do not see the importance of learning outcomes and do not engage in dialogue with their grantees, donors lose their opportunity to learn significantly about the nature of the social problem (Enright, 2010). Engaging stakeholders can be a powerful way to learn about the field and to understand the most meaningful work being done. Listening to what grantees say is effective on the ground is a tremendous way for philanthropists to improve their giving strategy (Sievers, 2010). Obsessing about impact reduces the opportunity to develop a trusting relationship with a grantee. As an aside, it should be noted that to some degree, the word “impact” is used as a linguistic crutch. It’s easier to say that a program “impacted lives” than that it increased college acceptance rates among underprivileged youth in the Boston area, or reduced the number of people living on a

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dollar a day in a particular district in Malawi. So perhaps we can chalk some of the word’s rise to dominance to lazy reporting, or oversimplification. If the report to the funders must be brief, the word “impact” seems to carry linguistic punch where “increase,” “improve,” and “remedy” do not. It is ironic, but impact terminology might actually work to conceal meaning rather than illuminate it.

Efficiency and Effectiveness
Outcome is important. But the assumption that increasing efficiency increases effectiveness is not necessarily valid. Achieving certain philanthropic missions requires significantly more program expenditure than others. So it doesn’t make sense to compare a 0-5 early education program with a college-preparatory program; they have different mechanisms and require different assessments. But when nonprofits are asked to “sell themselves” or market their “social product” then we have arrived at a commodification of social goods and lives that is ethically quite questionable. Online sites that compare nonprofit grant seekers on the basis of impact (by which they generally mean efficiency) primarily use “overhead costs” as a measure of impact. This is an even more crude estimation than the “cost per impact” measure that UPenn and others use. It conflates organizational efficiency with effectiveness of the program for solving a social problem. Charity Navigator, GuideStar, GiveWell, and others publish efficiency ratings for nonprofits which users and individual donors can use to make funding decisions. The public perception that this accountabilityclass creates can be incredibly influential to the nonprofit’s success of finding funding. Giving gold stars (soft accreditation) to nonprofits that they deem most efficient will bolster that nonprofit’s ability to raise funds and show legitimacy. Doling out approbation to inefficient-appearing nonprofits has the potential to generate significant skepticism. A low rating on Charity Navigator or GuideStar implies to a donor that a nonprofit is inefficient, incompetent, wasteful, or even corrupt. Using 990 tax forms and other public records, these sites claim to be able to determine organizational merit by assessing the percent of funds that “go directly to the cause.” But in the

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highly competitive marketplace of nonprofits competing for donations, we see a culture emerging that places an exorbitantly high value on appearances and third party recommendations. Unfortunately however, in many cases the information that is being used to determine the nonprofit’s efficiency is woefully out of date. It is up to the nonprofits to ensure that their forms are updated, but because of lags in bureaucratic delays other factors out of the nonprofit’s control, information is frequently online that is up to 3 years old (Somerville, 2010). Nonprofits are put in the difficult position of justifying all expenditures for staff compensation and operational functioning even when those expenses are valid. This creates a culture of distrust. Donors do not believe that nonprofits know how to spend their money, which leads to a distrustful relationship, and a distrustful network. In an atmosphere where donors and grantees are supposedly working together to solve some of the world’s most challenging problems, internal skirmishes and power struggles are not helpful. The class divide between philanthropists and grantees that distrustful efficiency ratings promote does not supportive of an atmosphere of congenial partnership.

Is Impact Ethical?
To some extent, impact model philanthropy makes ethical sense. It seems that the philanthropist wants to do as much good as possible given inherently limited resources. Perhaps she wants to be able to help as many people as she can, or perhaps she wants to maximize the achievement of a certain number of people. I think a lot of people begin giving money in this way; it makes intuitive sense to seek value. And to a large extent, the tenets of impact modeled philanthropy have pointed out unnecessary inefficiencies in the nonprofit world which hampered the sector’s work (Boris, 2006).

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But this form of Utilitarian philanthropy is stridently consequentialist. It attempts to maximize the social good result in a process-blind way. If ten people can be fed with ten dollars, why spend fifteen dollars to buy them higher quality food? Calories are calories, they would say. It also doesn’t differentiate between helping a large number of people a small amount and helping a few people a large amount, because the product (the multiplied total change) is the same. So while the impact model can be naively understood as an attempt to help as many people as possible (or to help a certain number of people as meaningfully as possible), it can also be interpreted more cynically as an attempt to reach a certain endpoint with minimal inconvenience to the donor. The impact model of philanthropy suggests that maximizing net change and minimizing expenditure are the only things that matter. If change is what philanthropists seek, then they are incentivized to keep people in need. Donations can only have an impact on recipients if there are recipients in need. This might help explain why foundation giving is very often no more than 5% of total endowment. They need to hold onto enough money so that they can continue to exist and can continue to make an impact year after year (Vesterlund, 2006). From this perspective, we see that they are not focused on fulfilling social needs, but rather on seeing a change that they can attribute to themselves (Duncan, 2004). This type of philanthropy creates dependency. Nonprofits and grantees would be happy to continue to take money from philanthropists as long as they can, and philanthropists are not looking for ways to create self-sustaining programs. Recipients have no reason to seeing the project to completion if they can continue to get support from philanthropists in return for showing some progress toward improvement. For them, there is no benefit to finding a donor “exit strategy” (achieving sustainability). As long as both can demonstrate need and progress on achieving mission, there is no need to ever eliminate the need altogether. Almost immediately, a philanthropist acting within the impact model faces the difficulty of measuring the outcomes of his donation. Since maximization of returns is required, the donor must

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know exactly what his returns are in order to determine what a sound decision would be. It is easy enough to know how much money you have given, but the social returns yielded by a donation are not easily converted to monetary or quantitative measures. The improvement of education quality, for example, or the success of early literacy programs on college entrance rates, or the consequences of maternal health centers are not easily captured by assessment, particularly short-time horizon assessment. Success is notoriously difficult to define and claim in the social arena. Philanthropists have a tendency to demand positive results from their grantees, who in turn are pressed into generating optimistic data or else risk losing grant support. Nonprofits are incentivized to produce positive-looking results to show to their donors in the impact model, while not incentivized to creatively seek new approaches to problems or to take risks. REDF (formerly The Roberts Enterprise Development Fund) is one example of a foundation that has attempted to incorporate social returns into a quantitative measure of success. True cost accounting, social returns on investment (SROI), Ongoing Assessment of Social Impacts (OASIS) are meant to quantitatively capture the social impact of an investment in a project (Bishop and Green, 2008; REDF, 2001). The SROI estimates how much is being saved from government and private funds that would have had remedy a particular given social problem, or compensate for it later. Essentially SROI represents the costs that are diverted from other sources thanks to this particular investment. It tries to internalize various externalities (like healthcare costs, environmental costs, loss of productivity, etc), to quantitatively measure social outcome. Then by analyzing the SROI outcome and the amount of investment, REDF says their method is able to flag efficient and inefficient nonprofits . REDF confidently says: “As a result of our in-depth data collection and analysis, we are able to say with certainty that our portfolio of social purpose enterprises is having a lasting, positive impact on the lives of employees [we help]” ( REDF, 2010). Impact philanthropists are much more likely to give program-specific allocation. They are interested in measuring their returns on investment, which are much more visible if they go toward

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specific operations, not to general operating overhead of the nonprofit. Paul Brest, the Executive Director of the Hewlett Foundation, says that any foundation which does not allocate a “reasonable” amount for general operating budget on top of their program grants is free-riding off those who do (Brest, 2010). It is unacceptable and unethical to expect other donors to support the necessary overhead bills in order for your impact reports to look extraordinarily “efficient.” Without paying the employees of the nonprofit, or paying to “keep the lights on,” how can philanthropists expect the work that they want to get done to get done? On the surface, an Impact Model seems reasonable. It makes sense to try to eek out the most “value” for purchased goods. Yet this approach ignores the distinctions that exist between different social goods --some of which are better adapted to being maximized. The impact model assumes 1) that measurement is possible, and 2) that social returns ought to be purchased. I address these two assumptions now.

Is Measurement Possible?
The Center for High Impact Philanthropy at the University of Pennsylvania has devised a “back of the envelope” equation for determining the efficacy (cost per impact) that an education program provides: This equation represents a typical, albeit simplistic, approach to converting social returns into quantitative measures of impact. There are dozens of different reporting tools that various foundations have developed (Foundation Center, 2010). The Acumen Fund, Ashoka, The James Irvine Foundation, Venture Philanthropy Partners, the Robin Hood Foundation, the Annie E. Casey Foundation, the Coalition for Evidence-Based Policy, and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation are just a few organizations that host different assessment tools designed to measure efficiency and drive decision-making. In fact, the field is flooded with notions, many of them conflicting, about how to derive an “objective” measure of philanthropic impact.

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One of the most significant problems with assessing social good, however, is the degree to which it is subjective. Just in the above example, how can you determine if a student has been “changed” by a program (in the way that you want her to be changed)? Scholar Bruce Sievers calls impact philanthropy “layers of subjective judgements masquerading as rigorous analysis.” At some point in the calculation / assessment, there is always a subjective decision about how successful a program has been in changing lives. Claiming that impact assessment is an absolute science is counter-factual. The massive quantities of information make measurement of social impact an enormous empirical problem. The best forms of measurement take into account dozens or hundreds of factors. Yet philanthropic donations, especially ones that affect the lives of people (as opposed to environmental goods or other objective measures) have innumerable social effects that cannot be represented in even the most accurate models. This is a large part of the reason that philanthropists engage in philanthropy; they are interested in catalyzing a beneficial cycle of positive actions that lead to sustained positive effects. In their own estimation, successful philanthropy sets in motion positive changes that lead to more positive changes. In other words, successful philanthropy has a ripple effect which makes true measurement of all effects impossible. Unsuccessful philanthropy also has outcomes that are impossible to measure. Unintended consequences abound in any social interaction and that holds true for philanthropic activity. So even if it were possible to measure all the intended improvements to human life, and environmental wellbeing, there would still be many, many consequences that were not anticipated and hence unmeasured. By not knowing about those consequences, and not being able to account for them in the measurement of success, it makes it difficult to know the net benefit (or harm) of a donation. Beyond this, there is also a concern about the temporal limitations of measurement. Between the start time (the moment of investment) and the end time (the moment measurement is completed) a certain amount of social good has been made. This amount of good can be measured

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if specific indicators are put in place. But because measurement necessitates a shorter time horizon than the philanthropic donations have, measurement will only be able to measure the effects that have already been generated. For investments in education, this is an especially salient concern since the time horizon of positive effect is particularly long. It might be 20 years before an investment in early education “pays off ” by allowing students to achieve college placement or placement in the workforce or a healthy family. But impact model philanthropists demand data well before this type of measurement can be carried out. Here is an oft-cited example: the philanthropist who sponsored Barack Obama’s father’s education in the United States could never have known that this would enable him to father Barack Obama, who would subsequently rise to the presidency. Even with an ideal measurement, the philanthropist would only have been able to guess that his scholarship student’s life would be enriched through his education. He could not have captured all of the effects of his donation, which wouldn’t be obvious for another generation. Thus, even ideal measurement is only an approximation of quantitative and qualitative results given the constraints of time. There is also an epistemological worry about measurement. How can we know the full concept of success of an education program if we are only studying certain narrow definitions of success? How indicative of complete programmatic success is the success of measurement of one axis? Scores on the TIMMS test, while a powerful measure of children’s math, science and literacy, do not necessarily measure the holistic success of an education program. TIMMS scores cannot be extrapolated to measure the improvement of community health, population size, or earning potential. These things may be the ultimate goal of a philanthropist, but because they are difficult and time-intensive to measure, the philanthropist will settle for international school test scores as a short-cut measurement of the real outcome he is interested in. It is a mistake to assume that scholastic retention, mass education expansion, and higher international test scores indicate health

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and socioeconomic population improvements. Knowing what data sets represent, and what they do not represent is absolutely critical if measurement is to be useful at all.

Measurement Maintains Systems of Power
There is a tremendous asymmetry of in the monitoring and evaluation of success. In traditional philanthropic relationships, the duty to report is placed fully on the grantees. There is no corollary accountability for the philanthropists. They are in the unassailable position of power to affect social structures as they see fit -- which exacerbates the existing position of power they already had in virtue of their elite and wealthy status in society. As Shari Berenbach, President and CEO of the Calvert Social Investment Foundation says “My individual investors want to know that value is being added but they are not interested in reading substantial reports about how that is happening. They want the social value proposition reduced to simple output indicators” (Stepanek, 2010). The value proposition must be proven by the grantees to the donors -- quickly and quantitatively. Traditionally, the demands made by donor foundations for measurement and reporting costs between 15 and 20% of every grant made in employee time (Somerville, 2010). Yet investor-donors are impatient with the costs involved with this type of heavy assessment. “In the long run, it's a good thing to have impact measurement but organizations need to keep the cost of these measurements in proportion,” Berenbach concludes (Stepanek, 2010). Investors want hard proof that their money is being used efficiently, but they don’t want to pay for the cost of getting that proof. There is always going to be a trade-off between degree of certainty of effectiveness and cost of proving that certainty. As long as nonprofits are not given enough resources to prove their effectiveness, they are being incentivized to take short cuts in assessment, and to generate reports that are very “glossy.” Nonprofits have tremendous pressure from foundations to find success or risk losing their funding. Therefore nonprofits try to report their progress as positively as possible

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regardless of their actual success. Accountability for the accuracy for reporting has been traditionally very low, so this has been possible in the past (Bishop and Green, 2008). The temptation to “fudge” books, to list certain expenses as programmatically related instead of operational, and to finesse 990s is enormous in an impact model of philanthropy. Foundations and donors what they want to see: 1) a very high percent of donated funds go directly to programs, and 2) these programs are tremendously successful. In order to prove these things, nonprofits must bear the burden of measurement, assessment, and report-production, which can account for 14-20% of each grant (Somerville, 2010). Despite these problems, attention to success and failure is important. The impact model has done significant good in the nonprofit sector by turning attention to outcomes. Expecting nonprofits to achieve what they say they will, and centering the narrative of social change around results, has helped to refocus philanthropy toward effective groups. But the sense that there is one best nonprofit or one best way of achieving success is a limitation of the impact model. There are many, many excellent programs and nonprofits in the world which are not adept at demonstrating “impacts” that are not easily converted into SROI terms or that have a very long time horizon of effect. This is not a reason not to fund them, but it might be a reason to look more closely at their methodology, their theory of change, their experience in the field, and their rapport with their beneficiaries. It might be a reason to act as a better conduit of information between several grantees, and to increase grantee awareness of other effective practices in their field. We have seen that there is a theoretic failure involved with the descriptive process of impact philanthropy. No measurement or combination of measurements will ever be able to capture the full effect of a philanthropic donation. (The large number of factors and long time horizon prevent measurement from providing this desired omniscient viewpoint). Thinking that impact model assessments are objective renderings of success is a limitation. It seems that “efficiency” may not be the mot juste in philanthropy.

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Should Human Capital Social Goods be for Sale?
Beyond the feasibility of measurement, we may wonder if there is an ethical problem with the idea of purchasing human capital social goods at all. Can we buy an education in the same way that we can buy a carton of milk? Many nonprofits offer a “menu” of social goods from which a donor can choose. For instance, Heifer International lets donors choose to buy a flock of chickens for $20, or a goat for $120, or a water buffalo for $250 to give to a family in a developing nation. Heifer International wants to make donation more transparent and explain how “far” a donated dollar can go. Concretizing donations is an effective tool for helping donors connect with their grantees, and for starting to generate a network of concern (if not an obligation of care) internationally (Aaker and Chang, 2010). Donors are more likely to give, and to feel confident that their donation is going to a good cause, if they can imagine what their money is doing. How does this equation change when we consider a social good as related more intimately to the lives of persons? In the case of education, when we address social ills, we are addressing and changing children’s and adults’ lives. Intuitively, this seems to be morally distinguishable from a flock of chickens. Yet the impact model asks us to think of human capital improvement as a commodity. To conceptualize of human-based social goods as exchangeable, purchasable goods runs the risk of violating human dignity. Co-modifying education comes dangerously close to co-modifying the lives that are changed by that education. Let me illustrate this with a soup kitchen example. The value-hunting philanthropist would not care if the food being served was exceptionally healthy, locally grown / organic, or culturally appropriate (for instance, not serving meat on Fridays in a predominantly Catholic neighborhood). This philanthropist would want to give the minimal standard meal to the most people. The food would not be as tasty as the food the philanthropist herself would eat, but she would be satisfied knowing that her dollars were feeding as many people as possible. This is strikingly elitist, but

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perhaps this is acceptable in the case of food where absolute need trumps concerns about equity. A case could be made here that the philanthropist should fund the cheapest ingredients to serve the highest number of people based on humanitarian concerns. But as we have already seen, education does not work this way. Education is not like soup. There simply is no minimally effective education that can be doled out in bulk. Education is only effective at increasing equity of opportunity when it is of comparable quality to the best education in that system (Baker and LeTendre, 2005). So to seek the best “value” in education-related projects is a slippery slope that must be moderated by an appreciation for the demands of equity with a system. The idea that human capital social goods are for sale suggests that buying even a small amount of them is sufficient for acting morally. If they were really for sale, then any donation (any incremental improvement in life quality that they could buy) would be morally praiseworthy. While I do not have the space to investigate the full case of philanthropic sufficiency, it should be clear that giving a minimal amount does not satisfy the demands of justice between two people in the same sphere. People might easily make the mistake that a nominal donation is equally morally praiseworthy as giving enough to satisfy the demands of justice. For instance, if a billionaire gave ten dollars to a philanthropic cause, he would be acting well. Yet can we say that a billionaire who only gives 0.00000001% of his wealth away is morally upholding his duty to justice? Is giving any amount fulfilling the obligation to give? Humanists like Peter Singer would say no; a wealthy person has an obligation to give a substantial percentage of his wealth to alleviate human suffering, and if he does not, he has not acted well. Giving as much or as little as you want, wherever and whenever does not amount to ethical action (Singer, 2002). While Singer’s approach is that humanitarian needs trump all others, which is not the view of this thesis, he would agree that giving minimally is not sufficient for moral action.

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Purchasing human social goods is problematic if treating recipients with respect and dignity are also goals for philanthropy. Buying a change in someone’s life suggests to the grantee that to some extent his or her life is “for sale,” which is unquestionably detrimental to the grantee’s sense of human worth.

Does Impact Philanthropy Answer a Humanitarian Call, or an Appeal to Justice?
Many philanthropists, particularly ones who work in education, claim to seek social justice. In fact, this is a large part of the reason that education is the number one priority for high net worth individuals (Havens et. al, 2006). Education is still perceived as the method through which social change can best occur (Ramirez and Boli, 1987). So philanthropists wanting to enable a paradigmatic shift in oppressive social structures act by attempting to educate children (Krueger and Lindahl, 2000). Yet the way that it is still being done is largely in ways that allow inequalities to persist. By taking a maximization approach, and giving low quality education to as many children as possible, philanthropists are not giving those children any more hope of succeeding socioeconomically. But giving educational aid that does not address the advantages that elites have which are largely outside the school system -- like good nutrition, supportive families, books at home, social capital habitus -philanthropists are not actually increasing the likelihood that children will be able to compete with elites or escape poverty (Bourdieu, Coleman, 1988). Philanthropists who are interested in education are seeking to interrupt institutionalized social stratification and to start sustainable mechanisms for systemic social change (Havens et al, 2006). Yet, taking a look at the way that international aid is delivered, we do not see “gamechanging” philanthropy for the most part. We see impact models that valorize gross enrollment rates, increases in international test scores, and equitable distribution of government expenditure per pupil. None of these things increase socioeconomic equity (Hannum and Buchman, 2003). Ensuring

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equal distribution of inputs does not ensure equal outcome of education opportunity (Coleman, 1988). In fact, it perpetuates the maintenance of the extant social order (Pritchett, 1996). As Chapter 3 has shown, international philanthropy for education (IPE) can be a powerful tool for increasing equity if it brings the least well off up to par with the best off in that same system. Education is only able to reduce socioeconomic disadvantage insofar as it equalizes access to high quality education. To reiterate: IPE requires a justice framework to be effective. The impact model of philanthropy, for the reasons given in this chapter, does not prioritize equity or equality of opportunity. Leveling out disparities between rich and poor is not the goal of impact. Impact philanthropy measures its success in net social change -- which is measured in given minimal standards (eg: kindergarten readiness, college entrance, adult literacy). We conclude that despite rhetoric to the contrary, the prevailing impact model of educational aid uses a humanitarian -- not a justice-- framework. We further conclude that impact philanthropy will not be very effective at addressing educational development for socioeconomic growth. The incompatibility of humanitarian concerns and IPE for socioeconomic progress prompts us to suggest the rejection of the impact model for IPE.

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Moving Beyond Impact: Using Service Learning to Inspire Partnership
The work of replacing the impact model has already started. There is a groundswell of movement around the ideas that have been voiced in the previous sections. There is a growing understanding that grantees have a vital role to play in the administration, assessment, and decisionmaking (Enright, 2010). I will attempt to show in this last chapter the benefit of using methods found in partnership models that emphasize reciprocity and mutual learning paradigms.

Humanitarian Impact Philanthropy --> Justice-Driven Partnership Philanthropy
Ultimately, the goal of the philanthropist for international education is to conceive of a justice - based philanthropic practice so that the educational aid can be effective at changing socioeconomic opportunity. We need to do this by building very strong associational ties between individuals which may then be expanded to connect individuals and communities (or even nations) in the same sphere of justice (see chapter 2). The challenge is then to find a way to generate these strong associative connections in an authentic way. Can we re-envision philanthropy as partnership building? Service learning also attempts to build authentic connections between people and across lines of differnece. It attempts to change the social outlook of community service “do-gooders” by showing them that they not only have something to give, but have something to learn. It seeks to disrupt oppressive power structures by engaging students and community partners in reflection

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about the causes of injustice, and the systemic reasons why it persists. The model of reciprocity in learning and giving is central to service-learning.

What is Service-Learning? Why Use it?
Service learning educational research wrestles with many of the same questions of social justice, wealth differential, and community difference that international philanthropy does. Both fields investigate not only the best ways to shift resources from one group to another, but also the best ways to call into question the existing power structures that permit social injustice. Both international philanthropy and service learning empower and encourage participants to create paradigmatic shifts toward a more just conception of the world. Instrumental to both disciplines is also the belief that learning through experience, engaging in thoughtful theoretical framing, and honest reflection, will generate more authentic and selfperpetuating future actors on the world stage. Philanthropists contend that merely addressing charitable needs (say, hunger) without a thorough understanding of the underlying reasons for the philanthropic need (the environmental and educational lacks that prevent farmers from feeding themselves) will never solve the problems that plague our neediest populations. International philanthropy for education, as I have shown in Chapter 3, needs to be administered under a justice framework if any effective improvement in the quality of lives is to be expected. Likewise, service learning needs a justice framework to adequately embed practitioners in a network where actions of one person affect the lives of others. The need for both service learning and IPE to reside in a justice framework in order to be effective, and the mutual goal they have to improve the quality of life of the least well are sufficient reasons for a cross-pollination of best-practices to be considered. There is a long tradition of philosophers and educators who hold that experiencing the application of a theory in “real life” makes the learning experience infinitely deeper than it could be with learning taking place in the classroom alone. American man of letters, W.E.B. Du Bois said that

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the surest way to generate students fit for social revolution is to teach students that the “world is not perfection, but development.” That is, that the world is in a constant state of becoming; it is not static. A generation later, Existentialists came onto the philosophical scene with phenomenological ideas; some of them said that perception alone constitutes reality, and others that the experience of a welllived life in the company of men was what constituted the Good (Sartre, Beauvoir, Kierrkegaard). Sartre said “to experience as much of the world as possible would be the ultimate curriculum” (Peura, 2008). Valuing experience as a necessary component of learning, seminal philosopher of education and pragmatist, John Dewey explored what he called “experiential learning.” He founded a school of pedagogical thought that expands their notion of what a classroom can be, and where learning happens. Dewey’s legacy in education can be summarized by his contention that “all genuine education comes through experience." He said that all valuable education was fundamentally participatory, transactional, and reflective (Dewey, 1938). His subsequent writings supported this notion through empirical and theoretical studies. The four basic elements of influential experiential learning are: 1) Concrete experience, 2) Reflective Observation, 3) Abstract Conceptualization, and 4) Active Experimentation are at the core of experiential education (Kolb, 1984). In today’s research context, Dewey’s work has been reframed. We no longer call into question the utility of experiential learning, but we do examine how experiential learning can be most effective, and why it is so. Researchers are now more involved in the probing the difference between “mere” experiential learning, and a critical community learning model that makes critical reflection an essential component of the learning cycle. Critical service learning seeks to disrupt the political, economic, and social structures that enable inequity to perpetuate itself. It gives students a conceptual framework to understand why there is a need for their service (Mitchell, 2008). Additionally, it aims to authentically affirm diversity in school, work, and community spheres; it

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creates partnerships between socially disparate individuals who otherwise would never have seen each other as peers. Critical service learning is not an uncontested label, but the definition I will use refers to it as “community service action tied to learning goals and ongoing reflection about the experience” (Jacoby, 1996; Mitchell, 2008). Critical service learning engages community members, students, and researchers in a network of mutual learning and respect. More than merely teaching students about the systemic roadblocks that exist for some communities and individuals, service learning aims to create socially aware individuals who are civically awakened, and motivated to take part in social action (Berdan, 2006). In Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paolo Freire contrasts “traditional” teaching with critical, experiential learning. Traditional “banking education” is limited and limiting because it treats teachers as depositors of knowledge into empty ‘“deposit boxes”: the students. Whereas banking education anesthetizes and inhibits creative power, problem-posing education involves a constant unveiling of reality. The former attempts to maintain the submersion of consciousness; the latter strives for the emergence of consciousness and critical intervention in reality” (p. 62) There is an obvious parallel to be drawn here between this banking model of education and the banking model of philanthropy that Alexa Culwell warns against. Both conceive of the giver as the sole repository of information and wealth, and imagine the act of giving as an off-loading of knowledge and wealth into empty recipients. Critical service learning pedagogy, described by Robert Rhoad in 1997, asks participants to question what systems of oppression or societal failures generated a need for the service being performed. What is the reason that service (and philanthropy) is necessary? What sociological and historical events preceded the service learning, and how is the historical pattern of community involvement evident in the service experiences the students encounter? Critical service learning

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encourages students to take responsibility for the injustice they they have encountered and to think creatively about ways to eliminate the need for service in the future (Eyeler, 2001). As Kolb says, critical reflection not only encourages active learning, but it positions the educational pedagogy as an effective tool for combatting social injustice (Kolb, 1984). Students are no longer docile listeners, they are “critical co-investigators” who engage in educational dialogues with their teachers and seek to achieve social justice. From a standpoint, students can tackle larger questions about human need and human obligation to care. “Responding to individual human needs is important, but if the social policies that create those needs is not also understood and addressed, then the cycle of dependence remains” (O’Grady, 13). Arming students with tools for thinking about ways that they might be able to change the dynamics of the greater social context in which service happens in successful critical service learning. Tania Mitchell reports on service learning practitioners’ consensus has settled on three essential elements: “working to redistribute power amongst all participants in the service-learning relationship, developing authentic relationships in the classroom and in the community, and working from a social change perspective” (Mitchell, 2008, p. 1). Some aspects of critical pedagogy are especially exportable to the philanthropic context, namely: the mutuality of exchange, the importance of long-term investment, and the practice of the highest levels of cultural respect and sensitivity.

What Can Service Learning Teach the Philanthropic Sector?
Justice-based philanthropy and service learning are both “fundamentally an attempt to reframe relations of power” (Butin, 2005, p. x). They attempt to reverse oppressive cycles and systems of justice through personal interaction and voluntary action. Yet despite this very explicit overlap of goals, researchers in the two fields (as well as political philosophers) do not usually exchange ideas in formal ways, or read possible solutions from each other’s work. but I do not think

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that this has to be the case. Theory and practice should be well informed in order to deliver the highest quality and most lasting social change. Here I adopt five best practices in service learning to language suited for philanthropists. These are based on Wilczenski and Coomey’s research into best practices for the pedagogy of critical service learning across and through diversity (Wilczenski and Coomey, 2007). 1) Acknowledge that the philanthropic exchange is fundamentally multidirectional. 2) Philanthropy for international justice requires a dedication to achieving a paradigmatic shift in world-wide power relationships, 3) Balanced dialogue between recipients and donors is necessary, 4) Grant recipients and donors share a joint responsibility for successful achievement of mission, as mutually defined by all parties at the outset, 5) All participants must be critical and informed investors. On a practical level, this would mean that philanthropists ought to engage their community partners in dialogue, not just about how the aid project should be carried out, but also how sociological explanations for the division of power about the reasons why the power structure has developed in the way that it has. Taking the time to engage in a discussion with their community partners and grantees about why social ills exist will generate more useful learning for the philanthropists (Enright, 2010). Redistributing power could be done by changing the measurement techniques of philanthropy. For example, the Beneficiary Perception Report from The Center for Effective Philanthropy takes into account the opinions, criticisms and knowledge of grantees and other stakes holders. It uses issue mapping, stakeholder consultation, logic models, and qualitative measures. Bill Somerville, president and founder of Philanthropic Ventures, suggests putting as much administrative cost on the philanthropists as possible to facilitate the grantee's work and maximize the potential for collaborative work and trust (Somerville, 2010). He says that in his “grassroots”

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philanthropy, he does not require formal or lengthy applications, but rather does the research himself, and writes the philanthropic “contract” for the grantee to save time and effort for them. This is a radical reversal of the status quo which usually requires nonprofit grantees to spend 30 hours or more on a single grant proposal. Susan Ostrander describes a social relations model of philanthropy which “sees a value in donors’ and recipient groups’ working together in as nonhierarchical and mutually collaborative relationship as is possible to determine the use of philanthropic gifts” (Ostrander, 2007). She shows that it is possible to re-humanize grantees through a process of philanthropy that does not valorize impact. It is possible to generate obligations of care across national boundaries, and revise Benedict Anderson’s thesis that nationality is definitively constitutive of obligation. Philanthropy has the power to help us re-imagine communities and though them, spheres of justice (see chapter 2’s discussion of Community Based global justice).

If philanthropists are indeed interested in improving equity through education, they need to address the relative standing of children within any given justice sphere. Merely expanding educational access -- which is the style of aid most humanitarian educational initiatives take -- does very little to change systemic inequality within or between countries. However, increasing equality between elites and the disadvantaged by supporting high quality education and wrap around services can address systemic socioeconomic inequality. The impact model of philanthropy is incompatible with this style of the justice-based philanthropy. Drawing a metaphorical connection between the now-antiquated “banking model” of pedagogy, I suggest that the philanthropic impact model is similarly antiquated. Adopting a more grantee-centered model of philanthropy will mirror the successes that adopting student-centered models for pedagogy. Instead of conceptualizing of the global educational inequity as a problem

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that wealthy donors have a responsibility to “pour money into,” we ought to understand global educational inequity as a problem that community partners can help to address. Service learning methods can transform philanthropic recipients into co-investigators and co-investors with their wealthy partners. Emphasizing human dignity, respect, and reciprocal exchanges, service-learningstyle philanthropy will work to dismantle static power structures not only in a consequentialist way, but also in its own process. By giving power (especially decision making power) to grantees, philanthropists signal that they trust their partners and are dedicated to seeing a reversal of the stratified power systems of the past (Somerville, 2010; Enright, 2010). As a first step, moving away from metaphorically charged language that pits philanthropic participants not as partners, but as dehumanized targets, or as malleable objects psychologically undermines philanthropy’s own goal to upset power relations. Creating and measuring philanthropic impact, despite its good intentions, implies violent cultural collision, and may lead to treatment of partners as data points instead of as partners in creating paradigmatic change. Introducing multipartner stakeholder language and a bidirectional flow of information will help to establish a true dialogical discourse. The Community Based global justice framework facilitates an understanding of community that can extend beyond national boundaries. To form this community, which has obligations of care, we look to service-learning critical pedagogy for inspiration. It models an ideal co-learner, co-giver relationship where all participants have the opportunity to develop close ties and friendship. If philanthropists adopted a corollary system of practices, they might be able to construct a meaningful sphere of justice through personal experiences with their grantees. This, in turn, would allow them to undertake deep philanthropy focused on addressing equity -- in other words, philanthropy for education. Generating this kind of sphere of justice is important since it removes education from the competition for humanitarian attention. Urgent disasters are still compelling, but so too is the shocking socioeconomic injustice that we see around the world.

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Service-learning provides a way to generate intimate connections across international boundaries. It may be just the tool philanthropists need to generate a Community Based sphere of justice internationally.

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Aaker, J., & Chang, V. (2010). and the Power of Storytelling. Stanford: Stanford ! University Graduate School Of Business.

Anderson, B. (1991). Imagined Communities. London: Verso. (Original work published 1983) Astin,A. W.,& Sax,L. J. (1998). How undergraduates are affected by service participation. ! Journal of College Student Development, 39 (3), 251-263.

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