In brief, my two main reasons for taking Giving What We Can’s 10% pledge are:

1) the realization that I am one of the most privileged people ever to be born, and

2) that I can use that privilege to make a positive difference in the lives of the most underprivileged people in the world.

Although I have long held these beliefs, it was through researching and writing my book Effective Altruism: An Introduction^[1] that I moved from belief to action. In this article, I share my “giving story” and how teaching, research, and writing eventually led me to take the 10% Pledge.

Gandhi: An early inspiration to give

My desire to give was sparked nearly 20 years ago during my first year of college when I read Mahatma Gandhi’s autobiography. This led me to research Gandhi’s broader philosophy of nonviolence. Gandhi believed that nonviolence was an active virtue, requiring care for all individuals and, as a result, living a life of service. Raised in a privileged family in India, Gandhi was sent to London to train as a lawyer. Later, after witnessing extreme poverty and social injustices, he renounced his wealth and redirected his resources to aid his community and fight for social change. Gandhi believed that this was a moral responsibility, given the world we live in.

Gandhi advocated for two striking principles: non-stealing and non-possession. Non-stealing asserts that we should not take more than we need, as surplus resources belong to those who lack them; it is “theft if one receives anything which one does not really need.” Non-possession builds on this, holding that as long as others are deprived of the basic necessities of life, it is wrong to keep unnecessary possessions; one should “not possess anything which one does not really need.”^[2] Gandhi’s commitment to these principles led him to live in voluntary poverty, dying with only a handful of possessions.

While I agreed with Gandhi in theory, I found it difficult, to say the least, to live up to his high standards. As a college student with a negative net income, I saved spare change to donate to local charities but felt dissatisfied with my impact.

Discovering effective altruism

After graduating, I began teaching philosophy as an adjunct professor at multiple colleges. These part-time positions paid low wages (by U.S. standards). I had been teaching about utilitarianism and Peter Singer’s arguments for giving, when I discovered Singer’s 2013 TED Talk, The Why and How of Effective Altruism. Singer’s arguments about our moral obligation to give were broadly aligned with Gandhi’s views, albeit from a different moral framework — Singer argues that since we can prevent terrible things from happening by giving away our money, we ought to do so. This TED talk introduced me to the wider movement of Effective Altruism — a project dedicated to using evidence and reason to identify the most effective ways to help others.

So alongside teaching Singer’s arguments, I began introducing students to effective altruism. Students often highlighted these lectures as transformative, prompting them to reconsider their potential impact on the world. Occasionally, I would be asked if I donated to charity. I’d answer honestly: I wanted to give more but, at the time, I was earning poverty-level wages and supporting a family. Nonetheless, I hoped to give more in the future.

In Fall 2019, I secured a full-time teaching position with better pay and was thrilled at the prospect of finally building some financial stability. That sense of security, however, was short-lived. Just a few months later, the COVID-19 pandemic brought widespread uncertainty and massive disruptions across industries, including higher education. Although I was fortunate to keep my position, it was unclear at the time whether I would still have a job in the following academic year.

A stepping stone to giving

It was during this turbulent time that I read Singer’s book, The Life You Can Save and William MacAskill’s Doing Good Better. These books helped me realize that, despite my financial struggles by U.S. standards, my position was far better than that of most people globally.

Hundreds of millions of people are in extreme poverty, living on less than $800 per year (adjusted for purchasing power parity). Through no fault of their own, millions of families lack access to the basic necessities that I routinely take for granted.

At the end of Singer’s book, I was surprised by his updated, more modest giving recommendations. In many of his earlier writings, Singer argued that we should give away all extra income that would otherwise be spent on luxuries (a position similar to Gandhi’s). However, he later recognized that setting such a high bar might deter people from engaging with the idea of high-impact giving altogether.

To address this, Singer now advocates for a more realistic and attainable starting point. He proposes a giving scale that starts at donating 1% of income to high-impact charities, with higher percentages for higher income brackets (capping at 50% of income above $53 million). This modest giving scale was “designed to have a barely noticeable impact on your standard of living — and a life-saving impact on those in extreme poverty.”

Singer’s giving scale helped me realize that I could give more systematically without imposing any meaningful hardship on myself or my family. My concerns about job security were overshadowed by the life-threatening uncertainties faced daily by those in extreme poverty. I began donating between 1-2% of my income each month to the Against Malaria Foundation (consistently ranked as one of the highest-impact charities by GiveWell). I viewed this as a starting point and planned to increase this percentage over time. I also took The Life You Can Save pledge, which is based on Singer’s giving scale. (For anyone interested in a similar commitment, Giving What We Can’s Trial Pledge is another great option — one I wish I had also taken at the time, in hindsight.)

A turning point: writing about effective altruism

My teaching eventually led to a book contract to write an introduction to effective altruism. As a faculty member with high course loads, this project required essentially working two full-time jobs — I would have to work nights, weekends, and holidays. Despite the challenges, I was eager to take on the project, as I had seen — through the interest of my students — how the principles of effective altruism could make a difference in people’s lives.

Throughout most of 2023 and early 2024, I researched and wrote Effective Altruism: An Introduction. A large portion of the book involved transforming my lectures on effective altruism into book chapters while updating the arguments and data to the most recent available research.

As I carefully evaluated and reconstructed the arguments for giving during this time, I reflected on my own ability to give more to high-impact charities. Writing Chapter 2, "Global Poverty: You CAN Make a Difference," helped crystallize the reality that my modest income by USA standards represents immense wealth from the perspective of most of the world. Writing Chapter 6 on longtermism not only deepened my appreciation of our long-term potential but also helped me reflect on my place in long-term human history. Not only am I one of the most fortunate people alive today, I am, by far, one of the most fortunate people to ever live. Of the over 100 billion humans born during our 200-300 thousand-year history, almost all lived in utter hardship compared to my own, with nearly half dying before reaching adulthood.

This helped contextualize my own financial situation. Any struggles I had or worried about simply paled in comparison to the resource struggles that almost all humans had faced up to this point. While writing the book, I also read through some of the current research on how much good our donations can do when directed to high-impact charities. “A donation to The Fred Hollows Foundation of as little as $50 can cure a person of blindness. Protecting an individual from iodine deficiency, which can lead to terrible health effects such as brain damage, costs as little as $0.10 per year through the Iodine Global Network. Expanding deworming programs costs around $0.50 per treatment and expanding access to safe drinking water costs around $1.50 per person per year through the charity Evidence Action.” (Chapter 2). After a decade of teaching, the book's research reaffirmed a truth I already understood: ten percent of my modest income can do immense good in the world, when directed toward high-impact charities. What was I waiting for?

Taking the 10% Pledge

In late 2023, amidst writing my book, I increased my donations to 10% of my income. In early 2024, I finally committed; I took Giving What We Can’s 10% Pledge, joining a community of thousands of others who pledged before me. Most of my donations now go to expert-managed charitable funds, including Giving What We Can’s Global Health and Wellbeing Fund, the Effective Animal Advocacy Fund, the Risks and Resilience Fund, and the Giving Green Grantmaking Fund.

Ironically, just months after taking the Pledge, my university announced plans to downsize, with my position among those at risk.

In light of this, do I regret taking the 10% Pledge? Not in the slightest. Even if I lose my job, I remain far more privileged than most people who have ever lived. I am grateful to contribute to improving lives and hope my modest contributions help build a better future. And even though it took me years to do it, I still view the 10% Pledge as a starting point. I hope to continue increasing my giving in the future, and I hope to inspire others to think deeply about the many ways they can make a positive difference in the world. But most importantly, I hope my story helps inspire others to not just think….but also act, especially if they already resonate with the ideas and principles behind effective giving.