Giving, and Taking Away: A controversy at Princeton offers broad lessons

National Review, Sept 29, 2003 by John J. Miller

In 1961, Charles and Marie Robertson gave one of the largest gifts ever made to higher education. Today, their heirs are trying to take it back, in an unprecedented lawsuit that carries major implications for conservative philanthropy.

The Robertsons' donation, coming from the fortune of the A&P grocery- store chain, was worth $35 million to Princeton University. It created the Robertson Foundation, which was known as the "X Foundation" for more than a decade because the Robertsons wished to remain anonymous. Over the course of 40 years and under the dual management of the family and the university, the foundation has dispersed more than $200 million to Princeton. The endowment itself is now worth about $600 million, supposedly for the purpose of helping graduate students "prepare themselves for careers in government service, with particular emphasis on the education of such persons for careers in those areas of the Federal Government that are concerned with international relations and affairs."

In 2002, Princeton used the foundation's vast wealth to produce exactly three students who fit this description.

"Princeton has lost the right to have these funds," says Bill Robertson, the son of the original patrons. "The university isn't abiding by the mission of the foundation." Last year, he and four relatives filed a lawsuit that has become a critical battleground in the national fight over donor intent.

Over the years, violations of donor intent have caused conservatives great harm. The Left has captured billions of dollars in financial resources by seizing control of philanthropic foundations and ignoring the wishes of the people who endowed them. The Ford Foundation is perhaps the best-known example of this -- Henry Ford II famously resigned from its board in 1977, complaining that the foundation started by his grandfather had turned against the capitalist system that made its very creation possible. Other egregious offenders include the MacArthur Foundation and the Pew Charitable Trusts.

Conservatives don't always lose these struggles. In 1995, Yale University returned a $20 million gift from Lee Bass following a four- year scrap: Bass tried to fund a program in Western civilization, the school delayed implementing his conditions, and Bass finally succeeded in getting his money back. Yet the Robertson case, which has received less attention, is almost certainly more important. Although the money Bass wanted to give is nothing to sniff at, it doesn't match the amount of cash the Robertson endowment throws off each year in interest alone. What's more, the Bass dispute quickly became politicized in ways that complicated the broader goals of conservatives. Perhaps they stopped a bunch of left-wing professors from running away with a particular piggy bank -- but Yale came off looking pretty good among different audiences for protecting academic freedom from a right-wing insurgency.

The Princeton case, in contrast, can't be politicized, because the Robertsons' money never was earmarked for conservative purposes. "My parents made this gift because they believed training students for careers in security matters and international affairs was necessary to protect democracy," says Bill Robertson. The foundation's charter is clear on this point: "Its objective is to strengthen the Government of the United States and increase the ability and determination to defend and extend freedom throughout the world." That was a useful project during the Cold War and it remains one today, especially given the War on Terror. The foundation promises to keep its charge by helping students earn graduate degrees at Princeton's Woodrow Wilson School (WWS).

To Princeton, however, the Robertson Foundation's expression of donor intent has become a nuisance. Indeed, the university's briefs in the litigation scoff at the plaintiffs' claims: "Alleged expressions of donative intent are legally insignificant." What's more, the foundation is said to have an "evolving mission" and the specific objectives outlined in the foundation's incorporating articles are merely " aspirational goals."

Princeton's lawyers resort to such dismissive language in part because they can't defend the university on the merits. In 2002, according to Princeton's own data, the program funded by the Robertson Foundation produced 63 graduates. Of these, only 9 took positions with the federal government. What's more, only 3 of these 9 students had an international focus to their studies. Most of the rest taking jobs went to work for NGOs, foreign governments, and the private sector. "That's not what my parents envisioned," notes Bill Robertson.

The numbers from earlier years aren't much different, and Robertsons have grumbled about them before. In 1970, Charles Robertson wrote that Princeton was producing "a disappointing number of MPA degree holders in public service particularly in the international agencies." He called it "a small output from large resources."

Marie Robertson died in 1972 and Charles in 1981, but their children and other relatives have remained involved in the activities of the foundation -- its governing structure, in fact, reserves spots on the board of trustees for members of the family. They don't control the foundation, but they have a strong say in what it does -- and everybody, including board members appointed by the Princeton administration, is supposed to abide by the foundation's charter and guard its independence.