Generosity is a peculiar phenomenon. Researchers in recent years have observed, analyzed, and classified seemingly “generous” behavior—they have run experiments, drawn conclusions, and gained insight—but there’s a limit: no human can see inside another’s heart. For philosophers like Wake Forest University’s Dr. Christian Miller, however, accounting for the heart is critical.

As a researcher who has studied virtue for 15 years, Miller draws careful distinctions between a “generous act,” “acting from generosity,” and “being a generous person.” A one-off donation of $100 might constitute a “generous act,” but if the donor’s primary aim is to earn praise, or alleviate guilt, or feel good about themself, they’re not “acting from generosity.” 

To be truly generous, their primary motive should be altruistic, Miller says. Not only that, they should go above and beyond what duty requires, and be willing to sacrifice something they value.

The bar for being a generous person is higher still. It requires a person to act from generosity consistently and continually, across a wide variety of circumstances and relationships;

The role of duty

“I would say there’s a hierarchy of duties,” says Miller. “I have more stringent duties towards those near and dear—friends and family. I have less stringent duties towards strangers. I have even less stringent duties towards enemies, so the bar for generosity is modulated by, or fluctuates with, those relationships.”

He notes that an ethical egoist might argue their only moral obligations relate to maximizing their own self-interest, while a utilitarian might argue against showing any partiality to anyone, whatever the role or relationship in play—but Miller considers both extremes problematic.

In his view, our sense of duty and our conscience matter. Feeling obliged to perform a generous act, and wanting to avoid the guilt of failing to do so, will often motivate us to some degree, and rightly so; but when we act from generosity, our main motive is altruistic desire for the other person’s good.

Generosity towards family members

With families, acting from generosity might be complicated by a kind of “standing duty” to perform generous acts. A parent, in packing their child’s lunch and dropping them at school, could be meeting an expectation that’s both self-imposed and expected by society. They might still be acting out of altruistic care and concern—particularly if the child is old enough to make their own lunch and walk to school themselves but has had a hard week that stirs the parent’s desire to make their day easier. Generosity would seem more likely, however, and more clear-cut, if it involved making lunch for, or offering a lift to, a lonely neighbor—particularly if the neighbor wouldn’t ask for or expect help but clearly needs it.

Generosity towards friends

Turning to friends, Miller draws on an example from the philosopher Michael Stocker. A person is visiting a friend who’s in the hospital after an accident, and the friend asks why they came.

Egoistic answers like, “I was bored,” “I was feeling guilty,” and “I’ll get rewards in heaven,” or dutiful answers like “I felt like I had an obligation to do it,” or “God required me to do it,” would only appall and upset the friend, Miller says. “Your friend, I think, would quite understandably have the reaction, ‘You’re not here to see me… and you’re not properly valuing me as your friend.’” 

“Utilitarianism is going to have the same problem: I say I’m here just to maximize overall utility in the world—that’s just cold and calculating.”

But if the reason is, “I care about you and I’m concerned about how you’re doing and I want to spend time with you”—

Generosity towards strangers

In the case of strangers, helpful actions might “count” more easily—particularly in contexts where indifference towards strangers is the norm. “In a sense, it’s easier to demonstrate generosity outwardly; but nothing changes, as far as I’m concerned, on the inward side,” Miller says.

Noting that social psychologist Daniel Batson has convincingly established a link between empathy and altruism, he suggests understanding where a person is coming from, and why they might be acting the way they are, could stir altruistic desire, even towards a person you’ve never met.

Generosity towards enemies

There’s a difference between an “enemy” who wants to cause us harm and someone we simply don’t like, Miller says. But in his view, there are certain moral obligations—such as respecting a person’s right to life—that we owe to everyone.

While it’s easy to go “above and beyond” when generosity isn’t expected, it will be harder to have altruistic motives. “There’s a whole Christian context here, ‘love your enemy’… but it’s just instinctually very hard,” Miller says. 

Again, the ability to imagine what it’s like to be in the other person’s shoes might foster feelings that motivate an attempt to help that’s primarily altruistic.

A high bar

Miller accepts that requiring a person’s primary motivation to be altruistic concern for another’s good “sets the bar pretty high.”

While it hasn’t been empirically established, he speculates that altruistic motivation could also arise independently of empathy, via loving concern for a person.

Others, such as lawyer-turned-pastor Des Smith, have suggested gratitude can, and should, foster a generous spirit. In his book The Cheerful Giver, Smith suggests belief in a loving God who’s shown astonishing kindness to helpless humans, not because they deserve it, but out of grace, might inspire the kind of gratitude and love that sees an ordinary person become a generous one. If a person starts seeing all they have, from their worldly possessions to their ability to draw breath, as a gift, they might start to feel more humble, less entitled, and more benevolent.

Miller worries that while a kind of “pay it forward” generosity that flows from gratitude and appreciation is possible in theory, in practice, it could fast be overcome by a legalistic sense of duty or obligation. At the same time, one of the reasons he devotes considerable time to mentoring students is his gratitude towards a mentor who once went “above and beyond” the call of duty for him.

A peculiar phenomenon

Generosity is a peculiar phenomenon. The more we think about it, the more perplexing, even elusive, “true” generosity becomes.

Some of the most seemingly generous acts the world has ever seen could have been among the most self-serving, while some of the least impressive might have been the most selfless. A “hero” who “sacrificed” years of their life to cure a disease, might have been more motivated by curiosity than a desire to help those who are suffering. A starving refugee who, hearing a child sob, feels such compassion that they sneak their only ration into the child’s hand, might receive no recognition, no reward. 

Most of us want to be seen as generous, not stingy, but how many of us truly want to be generous people? When we consider our own acts of generosity, we might see those that yielded us the most praise and appreciation weren’t necessarily the most heartfelt, or the most costly. We might also see times we could have been generous, but couldn’t bear to be—we had too much to lose, and too little to gain; too much pride, too little humility; too much ambition, too little compassion.

Generosity that transcends selfishness—that flows from care, concern, compassion, love—is surely rare. It’s a noble aspiration and, when we witness it, an inspiration. But even if our motives are mixed, even if our generous acts are more driven by habit or duty than love, the world still needs more of them. The bar for true generosity is high. We might fail to meet it. But we can try. 

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Emma Wilkins is a Tasmanian journalist whose freelance work has been published by news outlets, print magazines, and literary journals in Australia and beyond. She has a particular interest in relationships, literature, culture, ethics, and belief.