David M. Rubenstein, '73: On Buying the Magna Carta, University Culture, and Interviewing Oprah
Interview with David Rubenstein
Philanthropy: You joke that private equity is the highest calling. Is it?
Rubenstein: I only say it for laughter. The highest work of mankind is using your time, energy, ideas, and money to help other people improve their lives.
Philanthropy: When did you get serious about philanthropy?
Rubenstein: I came from very modest circumstances. Most of my life as a young person was spent trying to figure out how to make a way in the world, pay for my kids’ educations, things like that. But then as Carlyle became more successful, and people began to publish statements about my net worth, I realized that I had a lot more money than I could spend wisely on my family.
When I turned 54, I read that, on average, a person that age had already lived two thirds of his expected actuarial life. I realized if I waited until I was 64 or 74 to start giving, I might not see what happened with my gifts. So I decided to spend the latter third of my life giving away my money. But donating intelligently is not as easy as it might seem.
I like to remind people that philanthropy is not synonymous with handing out money. It’s a derivative of an ancient Greek word that means loving humanity. And you can show love to humanity in lots of ways, including giving money. I’ve gotten very involved in nonprofit boards, and in capital campaigns for charities. I probably am on more boards than a sensible person should be, but I enjoy it as a way of helping these organizations with more than just checks.
Philanthropy: How did you arrive at your philanthropic priorities? I’m particularly curious about your emphasis on “patriotic philanthropy” and historical preservation.
Rubenstein: I got scholarships, so I helped the university that gave me scholarships. I live in Washington, D.C., so I helped D.C. in various ways. Most of my money goes to education and medical research, but since so few people are doing what I have coined “patriotic philanthropy,” that piece of my giving gets more attention than maybe it deserves. A lot of people give hundreds of millions of dollars to medical research. But a relatively modest grant to fix the Lincoln Memorial is something novel, so it gets lots of attention.
Like most things in life, this started by serendipity. I happened to go to an auction of the Magna Carta in New York. I bought it, and put it on permanent loan to the National Archives. Then I got to thinking that other historic documents should be put on display so all Americans could see them. So I started buying rare copies of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the Thirteenth Amendment, things like that. And I began putting them in places where people could see them, on the theory that if people saw the originals, they might be inspired to go back and learn more about American history, and become more informed citizens, and there might be a modest contribution to improving our democracy.
When the Washington Monument had its earthquake damage, I offered to put up money to repair it. I began to realize that there were a lot of other monuments and memorials that weren’t getting the funding that they needed: Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home; Montpelier, James Madison’s home; the Iwo Jima Memorial; Mount Vernon. I put up money to help repair these things to make them better, to have people go there and enjoy the experience more, and hopefully be inspired to learn more about American history.
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