and social entrepreneurship.

I happen to have triplets.

They're little. They're five years old.

Sometimes I tell people I have triplets.

They say, "Really? How many?"

Here's a picture of the kids.

That's Sage and Annalisa and Rider.

Now, I also happen to be gay.

Being gay and fathering triplets is by far

the most socially innovative, socially entrepreneurial thing

I have ever done.

(Laughter) (Applause)

The real social innovation I want to talk about

involves charity.

I want to talk about how the things we've been taught to think

about giving and about charity

and about the nonprofit sector

are actually undermining the causes we love

and our profound yearning to change the world.

But before I do that, I want to ask if we even believe

that the nonprofit sector has any serious role to play

in changing the world.

A lot of people say now that business will lift up the developing economies,

and social business will take care of the rest.

And I do believe that business will move

the great mass of humanity forward.

But it always leaves behind that 10 percent or more

that is most disadvantaged or unlucky.

And social business needs markets,

and there are some issues for which you just can't develop

the kind of money measures that you need for a market.

I sit on the board of a center for the developmentally disabled,

and these people want laughter

and compassion and they want love.

How do you monetize that?

And that's where the nonprofit sector

and philanthropy come in.

Philanthropy is the market for love.

It is the market for all those people

for whom there is no other market coming.

And so if we really want, like Buckminster Fuller said,

a world that works for everyone,

with no one and nothing left out,

then the nonprofit sector has to be

a serious part of the conversation.

But it doesn't seem to be working.

Why have our breast cancer charities

not come close to finding a cure for breast cancer,

or our homeless charities not come close

to ending homelessness in any major city?

Why has poverty remained stuck at 12 percent

of the U.S. population for 40 years?

And the answer is, these social problems

are massive in scale,

our organizations are tiny up against them,

and we have a belief system that keeps them tiny.

We have two rulebooks.

We have one for the nonprofit sector

and one for the rest of the economic world.

It's an apartheid, and it discriminates

against the [nonprofit] sector in five different areas,

the first being compensation.

So in the for-profit sector, the more value you produce,

the more money you can make.

But we don't like nonprofits to use money

to incentivize people to produce more in social service.

We have a visceral reaction to the idea that anyone

would make very much money helping other people.

Interesting that we don't have a visceral reaction

to the notion that people would make a lot of money not helping other people.

You know, you want to make 50 million dollars

selling violent video games to kids, go for it.

We'll put you on the cover of Wired magazine.

But you want to make half a million dollars

trying to cure kids of malaria,

and you're considered a parasite yourself. (Applause)

And we think of this as our system of ethics,

but what we don't realize is that this system

has a powerful side effect, which is,

it gives a really stark, mutually exclusive choice

between doing very well for yourself and your family

or doing good for the world

to the brightest minds coming out of our best universities,

and sends tens of thousands of people

who could make a huge difference in the nonprofit sector

marching every year directly into the for-profit sector

because they're not willing to make that kind of lifelong economic sacrifice.

Businessweek did a survey, looked at the compensation packages

for MBAs 10 years of business school,

and the median compensation for a Stanford MBA,

with bonus, at the age of 38, was 400,000 dollars.

Meanwhile, for the same year, the average salary

for the CEO of a $5 million-plus medical charity in the U.S.

was 232,000 dollars, and for a hunger charity, 84,000 dollars.

Now, there's no way you're going to get a lot of people

with $400,000 talent to make a $316,000 sacrifice

every year to become the CEO of a hunger charity.

Some people say, "Well, that's just because those MBA types are greedy."

Not necessarily. They might be smart.

It's cheaper for that person to donate

100,000 dollars every year to the hunger charity,

save 50,000 dollars on their taxes,

so still be roughly 270,000 dollars a year ahead of the game,

now be called a philanthropist because they donated

100,000 dollars to charity,

probably sit on the board of the hunger charity,

indeed, probably supervise the poor SOB

who decided to become the CEO of the hunger charity,

and have a lifetime of this kind of power and influence

and popular praise still ahead of them.

The second area of discrimination is advertising and marketing.

So we tell the for-profit sector, "Spend, spend, spend on advertising

until the last dollar no longer produces a penny of value."

But we don't like to see our donations spent on advertising in charity.

Our attitude is, "Well, look, if you can get the advertising donated,

you know, at four o'clock in the morning, I'm okay with that.

But I don't want my donations spent on advertising.

I want it go to the needy."

As if the money invested in advertising

could not bring in dramatically greater sums of money

to serve the needy.

In the 1990s, my company created

the long distance AIDSRide bicycle journeys

and the 60-mile-long breast cancer three-day walks,

and over the course of nine years,

we had 182,000 ordinary heroes participate,

and they raised a total of 581 million dollars.

They raised more money more quickly for these causes

than any events in history,

all based on the idea that people are weary

of being asked to do the least they can possibly do.

People are yearning to measure

the full distance of their potential

on behalf of the causes that they care about deeply.

But they have to be asked.

We got that many people to participate

by buying full-page ads in The New York Times,

in The Boston Globe, in primetime radio and TV advertising.

Do you know how many people we would have gotten

if we put up flyers in the laundromat?

Charitable giving has remained stuck, in the U.S.,

at two percent of GDP ever since we started measuring it in the 1970s.

That's an important fact, because it tells us

that in 40 years, the nonprofit sector

has not been able to wrestle any market share

away from the for-profit sector.

And if you think about it, how could one sector

possibly take market share away from another sector

if it isn't really allowed to market?

And if we tell the consumer brands,

"You may advertise all the benefits of your product,"

but we tell charities, "You cannot advertise all the good that you do,"

where do we think the consumer dollars are going to flow?

The third area of discrimination is the taking of risk

in pursuit of new ideas for generating revenue.

So Disney can make a new $200 million movie that flops,

and nobody calls the attorney general.

But you do a little $1 million community fundraiser

for the poor, and it doesn't produce a 75 percent profit

to the cause in the first 12 months,

and your character is called into question.

So nonprofits are really reluctant to attempt any brave,

daring, giant-scale new fundraising endeavors

for fear that if the thing fails, their reputations

will be dragged through the mud.

Well, you and I know when you prohibit failure,

you kill innovation.

If you kill innovation in fundraising, you can't raise more revenue.

If you can't raise more revenue, you can't grow.

And if you can't grow, you can't possibly solve large social problems.

The fourth area is time.

So Amazon went for six years without returning any profit to investors,

and people had patience.

They knew that there was a long-term objective down the line

of building market dominance.

But if a nonprofit organization ever had a dream

of building magnificent scale that required that for six years,

no money was going to go to the needy,

it was all going to be invested in building this scale,

we would expect a crucifixion.

And the last area is profit itself.

So the for-profit sector can pay people profits

in order to attract their capital for their new ideas,

but you can't pay profits in a nonprofit sector,

so the for-profit sector has a lock on the multi-trillion-dollar capital markets,

and the nonprofit sector is starved for growth

and risk and idea capital.

Well, you put those five things together -- you can't use money

to lure talent away from the for-profit sector,

you can't advertise on anywhere near the scale

the for-profit sector does for new customers,

you can't take the kinds of risks in pursuit of those customers

that the for-profit sector takes,

you don't have the same amount of time to find them

as the for-profit sector,

and you don't have a stock market with which to fund any of this,

even if you could do it in the first place,

and you've just put the nonprofit sector

at an extreme disadvantage to the for-profit sector

on every level.

If we have any doubts about the effects of this separate rule book,

this statistic is sobering:

From 1970 to 2009,

the number of nonprofits that really grew,

that crossed the $50 million annual revenue barrier,

is 144.

In the same time, the number of for-profits that crossed it

is 46,136.

So we're dealing with social problems that are massive in scale,

and our organizations can't generate any scale.

All of the scale goes to Coca-Cola and Burger King.

So why do we think this way?

Well, like most fanatical dogma in America,

these ideas come from old Puritan beliefs.

The Puritans came here for religious reasons, or so they said,

but they also came here because they wanted to make a lot of money.

They were pious people but they were also

really aggressive capitalists,

and they were accused of extreme forms of profit-making tendencies

compared to the other colonists.

But at the same time, the Puritans were Calvinists,

so they were taught literally to hate themselves.

They were taught that self-interest was a raging sea

that was a sure path to eternal damnation.

Well, this created a real problem for these people, right?

Here they've come all the way across the Atlantic to make all this money.

Making all this money will get you sent directly to Hell.

What were they to do about this?

Well, charity became their answer.

It became this economic sanctuary

where they could do penance for their profit-making tendencies

at five cents on the dollar.

So of course, how could you make money in charity

if charity was your penance for making money?

Financial incentive was exiled from the realm of helping others

so that it could thrive in the area of making money for yourself,

and in 400 years, nothing has intervened

to say, "That's counterproductive and that's unfair."

Now this ideology gets policed by this one very dangerous question,

which is, "What percentage of my donation goes to the cause versus overhead?"

There are a lot of problems with this question.

I'm going to just focus on two.

First, it makes us think that overhead is a negative,

that it is somehow not part of the cause.

But it absolutely is, especially if it's being used for growth.

Now, this idea that overhead is somehow