Joline

In Defense of Spoiled Brats: How to Raise Next Gen Leaders

Children of the wealthy have been caught in the headlights recently. The Atlantic recently reported on The Secret Fears of the Super Rich, a study originating out of Boston College’s Center on Wealth and Philanthropy that points out the high level of anxiety parents have about transferring capital to their children. They don’t want to take away the incentive to work or otherwise burden their kids. The NYT’s Bucks Editor comments on a thoughtful Paul Sullivan column with the headline: Keeping Affluent Kids from Turning into Brats, and the respected consultant Lisa Grey recently asked in her blog, Does Wealth Really Spoil Heirs?

From Silver Spoon Kids to The Price of Privilege, families—and experts—are vigilant to the tendency of kids to “spoil,” like apples or strawberries that grow soft and mushy if not kept properly chilled. I am not naive about the impact of wealth on the social and psychological lives of children. I see the same things all the experts see and families worry about.

But I see them differently.

Wealth does not spoil children. It does not make them decay and grow rotten. But like a strawberry left too long unattended on the kitchen counter, children who do not receive thoughtful coaching, consistent mentoring, world class instruction, and copious support to use family wealth (and by this I refer to the human capital of the family—TRUE wealth—as much as the financial capital) are indeed vulnerable to the dangers that accompany financial amateurism.

It is self-evident that one does not send a child onto a tennis court with a racket and no prior instruction to play world class competitors like Roger Federer or Serena Williams. And you don’t have to be a Tiger Mom to know you don’t send a kid onto a recital stage to perform without providing a great instrument, proper teaching, and ample practice.

But when it comes to the so-called “spoiled brat”—there is a sense that wealth or the oblivious child, is the problem. And instead of providing world class instruction, families react in fear, withholding or limiting the scale of their gifts, potentially robbing the next generation of the possibility of becoming the next visionary philanthropist, the next world class artist. Kids who receive training commensurate with the resources of the family have the potential to develop the skills and capacity of leadership, bold vision, and deep compassion.

I am a Maine girl, born and bred. Frugality and a strong work ethic are the human capital I inherited from my grandparents and my mother (she was an early, minor version of a Tiger Mom). I have a romantic ideal of the power of “overcoming odds,” and “pulling oneself up by one’s own bootstraps,” etc. But if you really listen to kids who grow up in the context and culture of their family’s wealth, you know they have their own hardships to deal with. Yes, I know the violins are playing and few people have much sympathy. I’m just saying: kids who have wealth need education to accompany it. They can do great things if they are not left to “spoil.”

I boringly remind colleagues and clients, endlessly, that every family has good intentions to raise financially thoughtful kids. Great families are intentional about providing continuous financial coaching, mentoring, skill building and knowledge.  Children who will inherit capital are—whether you like it or not—world class beneficiaries by default. And they require—and deserve—the same thoughtful support we would give if we identified an early facility with golf, a great voice, or an ability to play chess.

Preparation for the responsibilities of wealth is not an amateur sport—it is serious work. I know, save your outraged tweets. I  hear the rebuttal now: “I want my child to be a kid! I don’t want them to just think about money!”  Families who raise kids with great values communicate that life is not just about the money by the behavior they model. They provide good solid boundaries for their kids and at least as much instruction for financial skills as they do a tennis swing. Wealth corrupts—and children spoil—when they are left without guidance and support and tools.

Wealth Matters, Wealth Backlash, and the Next Generation

A recent Wealth Matters column by Paul Sullivan caught my attention. Sullivan reported on a discussion hosted by Wells Fargo Bank that apparently focused on “what  a family [of wealth can] do to protect its reputation, when its ability to earn a living is tied to its public image.”  Participants in the session shared tales of how quickly even small family indiscretions can go viral—and how damaging to family reputation that can be.  Sullivan is a great storyteller and the column was compelling; the conference was probably helpful to the family members who attended the conference.

But the posted comments following the column contained a separate story:

“Am I the only reader who thinks this entire series is appalling? The problems of the rich are amply and lovingly fondled by numerous media outlets, politicians and bureaucrats. The current economic climate is one in which politicians fight to defund reproductive health care, end public broadcasting, and cut taxes for the obscenely fortunate individuals targeted by this column. A little humility and perspective might be nice, instead of this pathetic fawning by the NYT editors.”

“Here’s some free advice for the wealthy demographic for whom this article is written: If you want to avoid scandal, do the right thing. Don’t brag about your shopping sprees and daddy’s private jets to people who are working their tails off to afford college. Don’t destroy your communities with your rapacious pursuit of wealth.”

“This series is an appalling waste of space in the print edition of The Times on Saturday. I used to think (or, at least, want to think) that I– college-educated but distinctly middle-class by profession– was a target audience of The Times. But this series makes it quite clear that I’ve been kidding myself, apparently.”

The rage communicated in the posts following Paul’s column elicited an immediate, primitive, fear-based response from me. “Yikes,” I thought,  “I need to keep Independent Means off the radar. Financial education for families of means will be another target for this rage.” In other words, my first impulse was to build a moat, protect my company from the consequences of the growing gap between the haves and have nots. This is the understandable response of high net worth families who sense danger: to build security, hunker down, and protect their own.

Backlash to wealth is not just unfolding in the Middle East. Innovation architect Maurizio Travaglini would call signs like the union battle in Wisconsin, the Tea Party’s challenge to the Republican Party, the comments to Sullivan’s column, and my own primal reaction, “weak signals from the future,” signs ignored at our own peril. Fortunately, on the long drive home from work that night, my moral compass resurfaced. Moats, as we saw in the Middle Ages, cannot be sustained forever. Money, as the president of Tunisia discovered, does not guarantee safety. We need new, pro-active, responses to create a vital, safe, dynamic world for the next generation.

IMI’s clients are largely thought leader families, the first to seek out new strategies to help their businesses, family members, and their communities  grow, lead, be sustained. When it comes to raising kids in an age of backlash,  these families will use wealth to build a safer world for their kids—not with missiles and security measures, but with policies and programs that help young people become builders of the future, not fugitives from the resentful. And it’s my responsibility to lead IMI is such a way that we support courageous families and create  innovative strategies for educating 21st century kids.

Which is to say, stay tuned. In spite of my first lizard brain impulse, IMI will be working on ways to help families build a safer world for kids, not hide from the one that elicits our deepest fears and worst impulses.