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Billionaire American businessman Jeff Bezos wears goggles owned by Amelia Earhart, which he carried into space, at a post-launch press conference after he flew on Blue Origin’s inaugural flight to the edge of space, in the town of Van Horn, Texas, on July 20. Photo: Reuters
Opinion
Inside Out
by David Dodwell
Inside Out
by David Dodwell

‘Space philanthropy’ of Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk is less impressive than down-to-earth visions

  • The Gates’ foundation has made huge headway on Earth in the battle against malaria and polio
  • But what cost-benefit analysis persuades Jeff Bezos that US$1 billion a year on his space programme is a good way to spend his Amazon gains?
With over 2,700 billionaires worldwide, controlling at least US$13.1 trillion in wealth, and an estimated 260,000 philanthropic foundations sitting on around US$1.5 trillion in charitable funds, we arguably find ourselves in an age of unprecedented inequality, and unprecedented philanthropy.

Philanthropic giving has a massive impact on governments and global policymaking. Whether for better or worse depends on your political view: if it flows to a cause you passionately support, then it is no doubt a gift to be welcomed. If it goes to a cause you despise, then it is an unacceptable assertion of influence at the whim of the elite.

Some forms of philanthropy are almost indisputably good. When the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation committed to malaria research, it doubled global funding at a stroke.

Its decision to do the same with polio, funding the vaccination of 2.5 billion children worldwide, has virtually eradicated the disease. Its support for Covid-19 vaccinations in developing countries will almost certainly have a massive impact on the global pandemic.

But as we watched Amazon’s Jeff Bezos and Virgin’s Richard Branson celebrate their brief sorties to the edge of space this month, with Bezos spending about US$1 billion a year on his Blue Origin space launch programme, it is difficult not to be distracted by the excesses of the super-rich.

02:14

‘Best day ever’: Amazon founder Jeff Bezos launches to space

‘Best day ever’: Amazon founder Jeff Bezos launches to space
One example of generosity that gives philanthropy a good name is the Bill Gates-Warren Buffett “Giving Pledge”, which calls on the super-rich to donate at least half their wealth to philanthropic causes. So far, at least 200 billionaires have signed up to the pledge.
The second form of “philanthropy” simply underscores the deep inequalities we feel when nearly 10 per cent of the world’s population earns less than US$1.90 a day, and many of Amazon’s 800,000 employees in the US earn US$15 an hour. Popping champagne after returning to Earth from his 11-minute joyride, Bezos gave US$100 million cheques to two people, asking them to donate to charities of their choice.

Whatever your view, it is difficult not to see the logic of Rob Reich, a professor at Stanford University, who says: “Foundations are an unaccountable, non-transparent, perpetual and lavishly tax-advantaged exercise of power.” Even when they are doing good, they are doing so by deeply undemocratic means, he argues.

I have a particular prejudice against what might be called “space philanthropy”, deepened by the fondness so many billionaires have for it.

It is not just Branson, Bezos and Tesla’s Elon Musk who have put space research and adventure – and, for Musk, the preposterous vision of colonising Mars – at the heart of their philanthropic engagement.

Space philanthropists also include Microsoft’s Paul Allen, Google’s Sergei Brin and Larry Page, and Russian-Israeli entrepreneur Yuri Milner, who has gifted US$100 million to research into laser-powered mini-sails intended to whizz through deep space at 20 per cent of the speed of light.

01:55

British billionaire Richard Branson returns to Earth after historic Virgin Galactic space flight

British billionaire Richard Branson returns to Earth after historic Virgin Galactic space flight
Compared to the “down to earth” visions of most philanthropists, who devote most of their money to health care, education, the environment and climate change – and the occasional symphony orchestra or football, baseball or basketball club – these space philanthropists seem anxious to outbid each other with their unhinged ambitions, which, if measured in terms of potential benefit to humankind, can barely be thought of as philanthropy at all.

When Gates can make huge headway here on Earth in the battle against malaria and polio, what possible cost-benefit analysis persuades Bezos that US$1 billion a year on his space programme is a good way to spend his Amazon gains?

Clearly, with an estimated wealth of over US$200 billion, the odd billion here or there can obviously escape rigorous cost-benefit analysis.

Musk says one-way flights to Mars will initially cost US$500,000, eventually falling to US$100,000. He can no doubt see people selling their homes to be pioneer colonisers of the red planet.

“Given that Mars would have a labour shortage for a very long time, jobs would not be in short supply,” he once noted, later warning, “It is going to be hard, there’s a good chance of death.” I wonder if these might have been the words of the Pilgrim Fathers as they departed from Plymouth in 1620 to colonise North America.

02:57

SpaceX capsule with 4 astronauts reaches International Space Station

SpaceX capsule with 4 astronauts reaches International Space Station

Putting aside my prejudice against space philanthropy, and the positive example that people like Gates and Warren Buffett are trying to set, there remain real questions about the net value of philanthropy as global inequality widens.

First, a large share of charitable giving has nothing to do with helping the poor or sick. According to research by Paul Vallely, published in Philanthropy – from Aristotle to Zuckerberg, a large share of giving goes to the arts, sports, culture and religious causes.

He says three quarters of millionaire donations – £4.79 billion (US$7.6 billion) – in the UK in 2019 went to higher education, with half going to Oxford and Cambridge, observing that “a lot of elite philanthropy is about elite causes”.

Vallely argues that much of philanthropic giving is about translating business wealth into political power, and is often motivated by widespread tax breaks for charitable donations.

As with Benjamin Page at Northwestern University in the US, he notes that philanthropists are statistically conservative and lean to the political right, and that higher taxation on the wealthy might be a better way to fight poverty and bring urgently needed social change.

It seems Bill Gates agrees: “I’ve paid more taxes than any individual ever, and gladly so. I should pay more.” But among the world’s 2,700 billionaires, I suspect he is in a minority. I don’t think Musk or Bezos are yet thinking about taxes in space.

David Dodwell researches and writes about global, regional and Hong Kong challenges from a Hong Kong point of view

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