Sitting in his ancient Oxford flat, the windows rattling in the wind, Toby Ord appears to have all his marbles and to have suffered no serious head injury. He hasn't joined the Scientologists; nor has he been invaded by aliens from outer space.
In fact, he has every reason to look forward to a long and happy life, which makes it all the more remarkable that he has just pledged to give away more than a third of his salary this year to charity. He intends to survive - probably thrive - on a very modest sum.
What's more, he's going to give away at least 10% of his salary every year until he retires. He's 30.
"It's not self-flagellation and I'm not trying to convert everybody to it," he says, disarmingly. "I just thought, if my money could help others much more than it helps me, then why not?"
It's a good question and one that, as a philosopher studying ethics, he has been chasing around for a long time. After years of thinking about how he might best do good in the world and many hours of research on practicalities, Ord has launched a society called Giving What We Can.
The essence of it is simple. Everyone who signs up has to make a basic pledge to give away 10% of their income - until they retire - to whichever organisations they believe can use the funds most effectively to fight poverty in the developing world. They can make a further pledge to give away even more.
Ord, for example, is promising to give away every year anything he earns over £20000 (a threshold that will be raised each year by the rate of inflation). On his present salary as a research associate at the Future of Humanity Institute at Oxford University, that means he will give away more than £10000 this year.
"It's almost scary, a bit like stepping over a precipice, but it's thrilling," he says. "I think I can live quite happily on what's left. I enjoy things that are quite cheap: books, beautiful music, spending time with my wife."
Maybe, though he does look as though his brain is burning up all his calories and a solid meal wouldn't go amiss.
As he describes how he's going to impoverish himself, his wife, Bernadette, sits nearby, smiling. The prospect of forgoing a pair of Jimmy Choos or even just a frock from Monsoon does not seem to have crossed her mind.
Ah, but Bernadette, 28, is a junior doctor training in general medicine at the John Radcliffe hospital. She's going to be rich and able to keep them both. Doesn't that make it easy for Ord to indulge in his pledge?
"You're absolutely right," he says, beaming happily. "We're very lucky. She has signed up as well, which means she'll be able to give away even more money than me!"
No matter from what angle you come at his proposal, Ord, who admits to having done "a silly number of degrees", has an answer. Isn't it easy for him, living the academic life in Oxford, to get by on little?
"Absolutely. We're very lucky here. It would be much tougher for someone in a Glasgow slum. But I'm not telling everyone to do it."
Not that he is living in luxury: his flat is rented, the hall is draughty and the kitchen doesn't have an oven. How do they get by? "We don't bake."
Okay, then, isn't the incentive of financial reward an important driver of economic growth, which provides the means to do good? "Of course, but people will still have an incentive. They're giving 10% - they still keep 90%."
Isn't aid in Africa sometimes counterproductive? "Yes, it can be," he admits. "That's why we want the money to go to the most efficient methods of helping people."
Ord has studied in depth the economics and effectiveness of different forms of aid. Some are just as expensive as the NHS in giving a person an extra year of good-quality life - at a cost of about £30000. But other treatments - for instance, those for "neglected tropical diseases" such as worm infestations - save a year of healthy life for just £2.
The son of two architects, ethics man Ord was brought up in Australia and studied computer science and maths at university in Melbourne. At Oxford he moved on to philosophy, studying for a BPhil at Balliol College and a DPhil at Christ Church.
The advantage of life as a student is that you get used to living on very little, he says. "It's a long time since I shivered through winter in my college rooms, and my circumstances have changed for the better."
Surely there's a trajectory through life, I say, and people may not be keen to give up 10% of their income as they grow older, with more responsibilities.
Again, he has an answer. First, he has no intention of penalising innocent bystanders. If he and his wife had children or had to care for an elderly relative, his pledge would be adjusted to reflect such needs.
Second, and rather more important, the whole point of his scheme is to catch people early, before avarice takes hold.
"It's a lot easier to be idealistic when you're young. If we can encourage people to make pledges when they are young, it may help them to keep giving as they get older. That's the idea."
He points out that someone with an income of £24000 a year is in the richest 1% of the world's population. Surely that is in absolute terms, I object, and does not take account of differing costs in different countries.
"No, that's on purchasing-power parity." That's why he wants the money to go to developing countries - where it can do so much more than in the UK. Ord has partly been influenced by the moral philosopher Peter Singer, known for his radical ideas about cruelty to animals. ("Don't worry," interjects Bernadette. "Toby's not signed up to the bestiality stuff.") Singer is of the view that we are obliged to help those less fortunate than ourselves. Ord says: "I think there are some powerful arguments in that direction. But I don't judge people who don't want to do this." There's no penalty for dropping out and no shame in giving less than 10%, he says. Although the scheme is, in effect, a tithe on earnings, he has no religious leanings; nor does he make any moral judgments on those who don't participate. All he wants to do is encourage. Already Singer and the political philosopher Thomas Pogge have joined his society, as have a number of student friends. "I didn't ask them," says Ord. "They just joined."
Some of his fellow Australians, who have been paying close attention to the story, are less kind. "Clearly, the man has lost his marbles. He's an idiot, in the precise sense of the word," ran one website comment.
Surely he's tempted by something extravagant. A teensy-weensy Porsche? A few bottles of Taittinger? Not really. Even with their modest budgets, the Ords can afford holidays to the Lake District and Barcelona. In fact, the only luxury he really seems to hanker after at the moment is an iPhone.
"Given all the work I've had to put into the website, and the response," he says, "I think an iPhone might be justified for efficiency."
Loading...
Be the first to comment