Philanthropy for the rich often means large cheques and black-tie balls, but one wealthy Irish couple is pioneering a new model of giving, writes Kate Holmquist
'Euphoria" is what Philip Berber says he felt in 2000 when he sold his company, CyBerCorp, for $450 million. But his wife, Donna, "was in a different space". "She was asking what's best for the children and the family, and she was not caught up in the euphoria," says Philip, who describes himself as an Irish-Jewish entrepreneur. Donna says: "My feeling was that this is not what I asked for or dreamed of. Who needs this? Give me back my lovely life!"
When the windfall came, she had a husband she plainly adores and three sons - Ryan, who is now 21, Shane, who is 17, and Jake, who is 10. The family were "sitting very comfortably" in their home in Austin, Texas, even if they weren't in the megabucks arena. They had a second home with 20 acres on a lake, with plenty of space for their dogs and horses.
As a hands-on, full-time mother, Donna, who was born in London, led a life that revolved around the school run, her children, other mothers and teaching yoga twice a week.
She had no interest in spending money to attract attention and rarely attended glitzy events. The year before, she'd started a philanthropic venture, A Glimmer of Hope, in an effort to realise a dream she'd had since 1986, when Bob Geldof's Live Aid focused the world's attention on starvation in Ethiopia. She had a vision and felt a calling to do something meaningful to help the poor of Ethiopia, as well as improving the lives of disadvantaged children in Austin and in London.
Donna feared that the incredible wealth that had arrived in their lives after 20 years of roller-coaster hard work by Philip was going to wreck their happiness. For her, remaining grounded was essential to a full and satisfying life. "I had to go into the children's school and say to the headmistress: 'My children are kidnappable commodities now.' " Invitations flowed in, with Donna accepting about 1 per cent of them.
They remained in the family home - though it has been remodelled. "Let's keep to our roots," she insisted. The result was, in Philip's words, that "everything changed and yet nothing changed".
Vast wealth often brings marriage breakdown and spoiled trust-fund brats as the newly rich travel the world looking for kicks, leaving their children in the care of paid help. Donna has never had live-in help and says she never will. Philip was 42 when he sold CyBerCorp; for the first time in his life he started taking the children to school. More time with his family was one of the greatest benefits for him.
The couple's marriage has had its ups and downs, but they both say that they have "a deep foundation of love". Having met in a disco in London more than 25 years ago, the couple seem to be best friends as well as partners, and their mutual respect is apparent. "There's a deep secret I'm never going to tell," she says about how the couple have remained together.
"The trick was for us to adapt. I felt a big light trained on to our family that hadn't been there before. I was grateful that A Glimmer of Hope was already in place. When I stopped to process everything and looked back over Philip's 20-year career and all of the challenges we had faced, I realised that this [A Glimmer of Hope] was what it's all been about. My main question was: Will we be worthy of that trust?"
Philip readily says that it is Donna's "heart and vision" that have guided A Glimmer of Hope. "I didn't have a joyous childhood," she says. "Quite an unhappy one really. My father died in a plane crash when I was eight." This left Donna's _mother as the family's sole support. "It was very strenuous; very, very hard financially and emotionally."
Growing up with difficulties made Donna want to become a social worker. "Having seen and experienced so much turmoil, I had empathy for the pain of others," she says.
Philip's expertise in building new businesses has made A Glimmer of Hope a revolutionary kind of non-governmental organisation that cuts out the middle man so that every penny goes directly to the people in the villages. In the same way that CyBerCorp bypassed brokers to enable people to invest in the stock market online, A Glimmer of Hope doesn't waste money on administrators on the ground who drive 4x4s and send their kids to private schools.
Instead, it engages directly with villagers. It gives the bricks, and the locals build the schools. It gives the machinery, and the locals dig the wells. Since 2001 A Glimmer of Hope has spent more than $16 million (€12 million) in Ethiopia, bringing clean water to nearly a million people and building 190 schools, 99 health clinics and 24 veterinary clinics.
Last February Donna decided that to be most effective she needed to stay with poor Ethiopians. "It was the next step of my own personal evolution, looking up and out rather than observing," she says. She spent a week in a mud hut, surviving on bottled water and one and a half Trail Mix bars per day, staying clean with baby wipes. "I discovered that with those three things you can survive anywhere." Living on a mountain top with no electricity, she was affected by the blackness of the night and the brightness of the stars.
"It's incredible the way people in rural Ethiopia have to live, yet their spirit is unfathomable in terms of the greatness and vastness of humanity," she says. "These are people who work tirelessly, even when they're sick from drinking contaminated water. You ask me to define happiness? These people who have nothing have a joy in their hearts. It's almost like their souls are still intact. They show the beauty and essence of being human in the most simplistic way."
The Berbers' sons spend several weeks in Ethiopia every year, as well as becoming involved in the urban projects that Glimmer runs in Austin. Already, the eldest, Ryan, has interned at A Glimmer of Hope and is considering philanthropy as his career, which pleases his father, who says he hopes that Glimmer's work continues for seven generations.
"Huge responsibility comes with huge wealth," says Donna. "Our children have seen and touched and observed rural poverty in its most raw form, and they have also seen the light and love that shines from the Ethiopian people. That's what our children have been exposed to as a result of the wealth that came our way."
Donna has recently fulfilled another dream: a couple of weeks ago she and Philip adopted a seven-year-old girl, Valevska, from Guatemala, after maintaining a relationship with her for two years and having their home assessed by social workers. Donna's first gift to Valevska was a glittery pink T-shirt that says: "My Dad Rocks."
Donna and Philip do not portray themselves as saints. They give according to their means, which are admittedly vast. "The person who delivers meals on wheels and sits and talks with a lonely elderly person, they are giving just as much as we do . . . And we receive far more joy than we give."
See www.aglimmerofhope.org for further information
A ROUGH GUIDE TO RICHISTAN
Imagine a country populated with people worth at least €50 million each. People so uncomfortable with their wealth that they're comfortable only with other rich people, which makes them willing to pay dues of $250,000 a year for the privilege of belonging to exclusive resorts.
Imagine, just for a moment, having a life so filled with every dream you ever had as a middle-class child that you need a "family office" staffed by specialist advisers and managers to maintain your private golf courses, jets, yachts, waterfalls, jewellery, antiques and art collections. You might even have a "concierge doctor", who treats only a few wealthy families, so that if you or anyone you love falls ill you are guaranteed the best treatment available. And even with all this you're unhappy.
You're so unhappy that you join a support group such as Tiger 21 - minimum wealth for membership, $10 million - so that once a month you can moan to other Richistanis about how miserable you are being rich.
Surely any normal person thinks that it's better to be rich and miserable than poor and miserable. Actually, any normal person finds it hard to imagine being rich and miserable full stop. We all know, theoretically at least, that money can't buy us happiness. But the notion that money buys the opposite: sadness, alienation and general dissatisfaction?
In his book Richistan: A Journey through the 21st Century Wealth Boom and the Lives of the New Rich, Robert Frank, a Wall Street Journal writer, tells it like it is, from the point of view of people richer than your wildest dreams. The new rich are so rich that they've effectively had to create their own country, Richistan, in order to stay sane. They can't bear having tee-off times, never mind a specific golf course to attend on a particular day.
These "instapreneurs" are bankrolled by "liquidity events" - moments in their financial striving when selling their companies and their stocks made them instant millionaires or even billionaires. What do they do next? Enjoy their money? They seem incapable of it. They only want to be with each other, especially when they have children who could be kidnapped at any moment, yet when they are with each other in their private demesnes they can't stop competing.
These are people who start out in the middle classes with a drive to become mega-rich, and when they achieve it they remain driven. That's the lesson of Frank's book. Richistanis seem to lose the ability to appreciate a single Whitmanesque blade of grass, even when they own the entire golf course.
The workaholic, 24/7 obsession that leads to making vast sums of money doesn't leave them. Without a goal they feel defunct. They have to keep going, making more money - partly due to the fear that they'll lose it all if they stop paying attention.
One multimillionaire confessed to the Tiger 21 support group that with $500,000 net in living expenses a year, after paying for houses, staff, children, wives, ex-wives, yachts and so on, he couldn't manage. He needed more money.
Frank sees a glimmer of hope. He thinks that as society concentrates money in the hands of fewer and fewer Richistanis, these people will have the will to solve the problems of the masses. In his view, Richistani is quickly becoming our informal government, choosing when and where to solve problems. Call it the Bono factor if you want: power and money used altruistically to make life better for all of us, realising Andrew Carnegie's dream of a "reconciliation between rich and poor, a reign of harmony . . . an ideal state in which the surplus wealth of a few can be made a much more potent force for the elevation of the race".
Vomit now, if you want to. Become a socialist. Campaign for higher taxes on the rich, though, in our wealth-rewarding economy, socialism isn't on the menu. We're left with the reality that doing good makes rich people happy. It seems they can't be happy any other way. Money hasn't done it for them - a fact that should make those of us who don't have it a little bit more content.
Richistani: A Journey Through the 21st-Century Wealth Boom and the Lives of the New Rich is published by Piatkus, £12.99 in UK