This sentence sums up what I've always believed: philanthropy is not just a response to specific needs, but a generative force, a cultural gesture, an act of faith, a form of social planning. When I speak of philanthropy, I'm not simply referring to the donation of resources, but to the ability to imagine what doesn't yet exist and to act to make it happen. This initial definition requires a more detailed definition of the implications and different perspectives on the topic.
A cultural gesture
Philanthropy is, first of all, applied culture. Every philanthropic gesture It's also a symbolic gesture. Supporting an artist, an exhibition, or a festival isn't just about funding an activity: it's about contributing to the construction of meaning, collective memory, and the ability to think together. In this sense, the philanthropist is also a social architect.
As I wrote in Foundation & Sponsoring, "Culture is not a luxury, it is a necessity. It is what makes us human, connects us to others, and allows us to imagine better worlds." Cultural philanthropy is therefore an investment in collective intelligence, in a society's ability to interpret itself and reinvent itself. The collective dimension, however, necessarily entails the creation of a system of relationships based on trust.
An act of trust
I deeply believe in Trust-Based Philanthropy, an approach that places mutual trust between donors and beneficiaries at its core to foster innovation and social change, overcoming traditional power dynamics between donors and beneficiaries. Within this approach, trust is the most valuable asset in the donor-beneficiary relationship, the most important capital of any foundation. Indeed, without trust, no philanthropic relationship can last or produce real change.
Trust, beyond being a positive psychological mechanism that helps us feel our expectations are met, is also social capital that allows us to build meaningful and lasting relationships. Furthermore, it represents the basis for innovation, for opening new spaces, and for giving a voice to those who have none. In a relationship based on trust, giving is a way to create meaningful connections and enrich identity and a sense of belonging. It is a gesture that builds bonds and generates trust, and it is precisely in this relational dynamic that philanthropy finds its transformative power.
Educating for philanthropy
Starting from these considerations, one of the central objectives of my work is to help train a new generation of philanthropy advisors and conscious philanthropists who know how to organize their work and projects methodically. Through courses, the publication of books and articles that tell stories of generosity, as well as through consulting, I encourage people to think of philanthropy as a reflective practice, capable of questioning impact, ethics, and sustainability. My ultimate goal is to transmit the culture of giving as an act of intergenerational love. This means educating people about responsibility, care, and the building of lasting bonds, which are only possible if generous and solid relationships are built in the future Time. While there's no exact formula for making a relationship rewarding and lasting, understanding the other person's expectations and considering their needs is certainly the foundation for building a solid, generous relationship.
I am convinced, therefore, that philanthropy must be taught as a language, as a form of active citizenship, as a way of being in the world, and in this context, the dimension of time must not be underestimated. We live in an age dominated by urgency. But philanthropy requires time. Time to listen, to understand, to build. The patient philanthropist knows that profound change is not measured in quarters, but in generations. For this reason, I am convinced that foundations are laboratories of the future, spaces where vision meets patience, which is a strategic virtue, and where generosity is transformed into action guided by a consolidated methodology.
A form of social planning
The way we talk about philanthropy influences the way we practice it. Words like "benefactor," "donor," and "sponsor" convey different visions and refer to different contexts. I prefer to talk about "cultural partners" and "social allies," because I believe philanthropy isn't a unilateral gesture, but a relationship, and every relationship requires a shared language.
Giving isn't just money, it's time, vision, and listening. Therefore, "giving in the context of a generous relationship means fostering awareness of the value generated, participation, and happiness. It's much more than the good exchanged: it's a process that transforms both parties involved.
Philanthropy and peace
This transformative exchange is also a crucial factor in the political crises we are experiencing. Can philanthropy contribute to resolving the conflicts and crises that characterize our contemporary society? Peace is not merely the absence of war, but the presence of relationships, care, and listening. In a recent speech, I discussed philanthropy as civil diplomacy. In fragile contexts, philanthropic gestures can build bridges, generate trust, and support processes of reconciliation. Philanthropy, in this sense, is also political—in the highest sense of the term—because it builds cohesion and mutual understanding.
Ecology and technology
Art isn't decoration, it's transformation. Supporting art means supporting the ability to imagine, to question, to provoke. Cultural philanthropy is one that doesn't fear dissent, that accepts risk, that invests in the invisible.
Likewise, the climate crisis imposes a new responsibility on us. Philanthropy can support the ecological transition, but it must do so with a systemic vision. Planting trees isn't enough: we need to rethink development models, relationships with the local area, and forms of consumption. Ecological philanthropy is one that views the planet as a common good.
And then there's technology: artificial intelligence, blockchain, and digital platforms are changing the way we donate, monitor, and collaborate. But technology isn't neutral. It must be questioned, guided, and humanized. Philanthropy can and must be an ethical laboratory for technological innovation.
A generative force
Furthermore, in a globalized world, philanthropy must rediscover the value of locality. Communities have specific needs, histories, and resources. Listening to them, engaging them, and supporting them is essential. Local philanthropy walks alongside, not imposing, but accompanying.
Il gift is a form of social care, a gesture that heals and rebuilds bonds, that restores dignity and hope. It is in proximity that generosity finds its authenticity.
Philanthropy is memory
Philanthropy is also an act of remembrance. Supporting archives, museums, and testimonies is not just about preservation: it's about resisting oblivion, it's about giving voice to what we have been to illuminate what we can become. It's an act of caring for our roots, an embrace of the past that guides us into the future. Memory is never neutral: it's a political act, and philanthropy can be its most silent and powerful guardian.
But philanthropy is also a love of what is possible. "Generosity is never neutral: it is a choice, a stance, a declaration of trust in others and in the world," I recalled in an interview. Giving is believing that the uncertain can flourish, that the future is not a fate to be endured but a horizon to be built. Giving, in all its forms, is a bold gesture: it generates what does not yet exist, makes the invisible visible, and reminds us that every act of trust is already a form of revolution.
Because philanthropy isn't charity, it's co-responsibility. It's the art of building the future together.
