A line of flood victims wait for food in Haiti, September 2008.
A substantial share portfolio is not an asset you might typically link with a charitable foreign aid organisation — but quite a number of these not-for-profit groups do in fact invest in the stock market. And the money they sink into stocks is money collected from public donations.
The rationale is simple enough. Any returns on investments help to fund
extra charitable works. But what happens when things turn sour?
Oxfam
Australia, for instance, lost $1 million is shares it sold on the
market last year, and the value of its remaining portfolio dropped by
$2.5 million. That’s a lot of charity dollars down the gurgler. The
pinch of the global financial crisis was to blame, Oxfam states in its
recent annual report.
Yet despite the losses, ‘‘our investment portfolio out performed the
financial market benchmarks against which it is measured.’’ Well, at
least that’s encouraging.
Foreign aid organisations and activist
groups are important actors in global politics, often influencing
government policy or in some cases assuming roles expected to be
normally provided by the state. Health care and sanitation are only the
most obvious examples. And while many aid groups benefit from grants
out of the public purse, private donations make up the bulk of their
funds, as shown on this table from the Australian Council for International Development.
Does
the average public donor pore over the copious pages of reports
produced by these charity organisations and understand where their
money goes? Fair to say, probably not. People give money to charity
with the expectation that it will help those in need, and don’t give
much thought as to how that actually occurs. The aid groups are not up
to anything dodgy by investing in shares. Indeed, Oxfam was awarded the
2008 Price Waterhouse Coopers gong for transparency in its financial reporting and operations.
But
the practice of charities playing the stock market poses interesting
questions about societal expectations. Rather than being the
shoe-string, volunteer-based communes that might be generally assumed,
big aid organisations have evolved, becoming far more commercial in
their operations. Just as in the business world, buzz words such as
‘‘efficiency’’ and ‘‘effectiveness’’ are rampant in the aid sector.
Outsourcing is another vogue, and that raises an entirely uncomfortable
term for charities — profit.
I reported
today on the deal between a private fundraising company, Cornucopia
Consulting, and many of Australia’s largest aid organisations.
Cornucopia puts paid face-to-face marketers on the streets, dressed
in the garb of the aid organisation, to solicit ongoing donations from
the public. Amnesty International, Oxfam, Medecins Sans Frontieres
Australia are all on the client list.
These marketers — sometimes
derided as ‘‘charity muggers’’ — don’t rattle tins for spare change.
They are chasing credit card or bank account numbers to set up monthly
direct debits between the donor and the aid group.
But here’s the
rub. Cornucopia takes a cut, up to 95 per cent of the first year
donation provided the donor stays on for longer than 100 days.
The
aid groups say that leaves the fee at around 24 per cent of an average
four year relationship. Every extra year that the donor stays on, the
fee drops as a proportion of the total.
OK, got that? The complex
arrangement is disclosed in fine print on the sign-up form, but I doubt
many people would look for it or expect this kind of commercial deal
would lie at the heart of a donation. And if the charity marketer
brought the costs directly to the attention of the potential donor —
admitting that most of the first year of their donation will line the
pockets of a private company — obtaining sign-ups would be even harder.
When
I rang around to the various aid organisations that engage Cornucopia
or other similar agencies, they were open to talking about the deal. So
was Cornucopia. Nothing is free in this world, and as several of the
aid group representatives put it to me, it costs a dollar (or less) to
raise a dollar. The bigger the aid organisation, the more expensive its
operations.
Nothing is buried here in these charity-commercial arrangements. But they hardly sit in plain sight either.









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