“Among the Very Rich you will never find a really generous man, even by accident. They may give their money away, but they will never give themselves away; they are egoistic, secretive, dry as old bones. To be smart enough to get all that money you must be dull enough to want it.”
This provocative statement comes from G.K. Chesterton, a writer known for his sharp wit and paradoxical insights. At first glance, the quote seems like a bitter generalization. We can easily name wealthy philanthropists who donate billions to charitable causes. However, Chesterton invites us to look deeper than the bank transaction. He draws a bold line between financial giving and true, personal generosity. His words challenge our modern definitions of charity. Furthermore, they force us to question the very nature of a life dedicated to accumulating immense wealth.
Giving Money vs. Giving Oneself
Chesterton’s core argument distinguishes two forms of giving. The first is giving away money. This act, while often beneficial, can be impersonal and detached. A wealthy individual can sign a check or authorize a wire transfer without any personal sacrifice of time or emotion. It is a transaction that reduces their bank balance but may not touch their soul. This form of giving keeps the world at a safe, manageable distance. It solves a problem on a ledger sheet.
In contrast, giving of oneself is an entirely different matter. This involves offering time, empathy, and genuine personal connection. It means mentoring a struggling student, listening to a friend in need, or volunteering in your community. This type of generosity costs something more valuable than money: a piece of your life. Chesterton suggests the very rich are incapable of this deeper offering. He argues their wealth creates a buffer, isolating them from the raw, messy, and deeply human experiences where true generosity is forged. They may fund a hospital wing, but they will not sit with the lonely patient inside.
The Psychology of Extreme Wealth
Chesterton describes the very rich as “egoistic, secretive, dry as old bones.” This is not merely an insult; it is a psychological profile. He posits that the process of acquiring vast fortunes fundamentally changes a person. The relentless focus required to build an empire often necessitates a degree of self-centeredness. Consequently, every decision must be weighed for its financial return, which can crowd out other human values like compassion and vulnerability.
Modern research seems to support some of Chesterton’s century-old observations. Source Several studies suggest a link between wealth and a decrease in empathy and compassion. For instance, researchers have found that individuals of a higher social class are more likely to exhibit behaviors that prioritize self-interest. . This happens because wealth can create a sense of independence from others. When you can solve most problems with money, you may rely less on your community and, as a result, feel less connected to it.
Furthermore, the secrecy Chesterton mentions is a natural byproduct of great wealth. The rich often live behind gates, both literal and metaphorical. They employ advisors and lawyers to shield their assets and their privacy. This isolation can lead to a life that is carefully managed but emotionally barren, or “dry as old bones.” They are protected from many of life’s hardships but also walled off from many of its simple joys and authentic connections.
The Paradox: Smart Enough to Get It, Dull Enough to Want It
Chesterton’s final line is perhaps his most cutting. “To be smart enough to get all that money you must be dull enough to want it.” This is a classic Chestertonian paradox. He acknowledges the intelligence, ambition, and skill required to accumulate a fortune. Indeed, it takes immense cleverness and strategic thinking. However, he simultaneously questions the quality of that ambition.
He suggests that a life singularly devoted to the pursuit of money is, in itself, a “dull” or spiritually narrow goal. A person who is truly alive to the richness of the world—to art, philosophy, faith, family, and community—might not have the single-minded obsession needed to become fantastically wealthy. Their interests are too broad, their passions too diverse. In this view, the desire for extreme wealth is a symptom of a limited imagination. The person who wants nothing but money is smart in a practical sense but dull in a spiritual and intellectual one. They mastered the game but, in doing so, may have missed the point of living.
Is Chesterton Still Right Today?
Does this century-old critique hold up in the age of billionaire philanthropists and the Giving Pledge? On the surface, it seems to falter. We see figures like Bill Gates and MacKenzie Scott dedicating their fortunes to solving global problems. Their contributions are undeniably significant and have saved countless lives. They are certainly giving their money away on an unprecedented scale.
However, Chesterton’s point was never about the amount of money given. It was about the spirit of the giver. We can still ask if these actions represent a true giving of the self. Is philanthropy, for some, another form of control or legacy-building—an extension of the ego rather than a dissolution of it? The answer is complex and varies by individual. Some wealthy donors are deeply and personally involved in their causes. Others may use philanthropy as a tool for public relations or tax advantages.
Ultimately, Chesterton’s quote serves as a timeless warning. It reminds us that generosity is not measured in dollars but in spirit. It challenges the wealthy to give more than their money and it challenges the rest of us to value what we can give of ourselves. True generosity is a matter of the heart, not the wallet. It is available to everyone, regardless of their net worth.