A 300% surge in stock donations sounds like one of those clean, feel-good stories you’re supposed to clap for. Rich tech people give away shares, charities get funded, everyone wins. But I don’t think it’s that simple. When giving lines up perfectly with tax timing, it can be generous and still be self-serving in a way that changes what “charity” even means.
Based on what’s been shared publicly, a donor-advised fund called Keshet says stock donations from high-tech executives in Israel jumped sharply in 2025, helping push total giving to a record NIS 420 million. The detail that matters isn’t just the size of the number. It’s the behavior shift: instead of waiting for a company sale or a public offering, donors are transferring equity straight into a charitable fund to get immediate tax benefits.
That’s the part that should make people pause.
On paper, donating shares is smart. If you already plan to give, why not give the asset that’s grown the most? Why not move it earlier, lock in a tax benefit, and let the charity (or fund) deal with the rest? If you’re a founder or executive sitting on stock that might take years to become cash, this lets you “do good” now instead of someday. And I’m not going to pretend that money reaching charities sooner can’t matter. Some groups live month to month.
But donor-advised funds aren’t the same thing as giving directly to a cause. They’re more like a parking lot. The donor gets the social credit and the tax benefit now, while the actual money can be distributed later. Sometimes much later. That gap creates a weird moral math: the public sees generosity; the impact may be delayed; the donor still comes out ahead financially.
And the incentives here are loud.
If you work in tech, your wealth often shows up as stock first and cash later. Waiting for a “liquidity event” is like waiting for the weather to cooperate. If markets turn, if a deal falls through, if the company never exits, the paper wealth can vanish. Moving shares into a charitable fund before that happens can feel like locking in a win while you can. It’s not crazy. It’s also not purely altruism. It’s risk management with a halo.
Imagine you’re a founder whose shares have soared on paper. You donate a chunk to a fund, get an immediate tax break, and tell yourself you’ll support education or health or whatever matters to you. A year later, the company stumbles and the shares drop hard. You might still feel good because you “gave at the top.” The charity might feel less good if the shares were sold later or under pressure. Who carries that risk? Depending on how it’s handled, not always the donor.
Or flip it. Imagine you’re running a small nonprofit. You hear there’s record giving and a surge in stock donations. You think: finally, the big checks are coming. But the money is sitting inside a fund, and the decisions about when and where it moves are controlled by people with their own preferences, networks, and moods. Your budget can’t run on vibes.
There’s also a bigger question hiding in that 300% number: are we watching a genuine culture shift toward giving, or are we watching people get better at using the tools available to them?
I can believe it’s both. People in tech do seem more comfortable treating their wealth as something to deploy, not just hoard. And donating shares instead of cash is a real shift from older habits. That part is promising. It suggests giving is becoming something planned and structured, not just a one-time gesture when there’s a big exit.
But I’m wary of what this trend could do to the whole system of public support.
When wealthy donors route more of their giving through vehicles that optimize taxes, the state collects less. That’s not a moral crime by itself, but it does change who decides what gets funded. Taxes are messy and imperfect, but they’re at least supposed to be a shared decision. Private giving is not shared. It’s personal. It can tilt toward the causes wealthy people like, in the places they live, with the kind of outcomes they find attractive.
And yes, I know the pushback: “Would you rather they not donate at all?” Fair. If the choice is “donate with tax benefits” or “don’t donate,” I’ll take the donation. But that framing is too easy. The real comparison is between different kinds of giving and different levels of accountability. Direct gifts to a charity today are not the same as moving shares into a fund that might distribute later. And when the giving is tied closely to tax advantages, we should at least admit we’re subsidizing private decision-making with public money.
One more thing: this could create a quiet pressure inside tech itself. If stock donations become the norm, they become part of reputation. The people who can give look good. The people who can’t look selfish, even if they’re just earlier in their careers. That kind of social expectation can be healthy, but it can also turn charity into a status signal, where the goal is to be seen giving, not to solve anything.
I’m not calling this surge “bad.” I’m saying it’s complicated in a way we should be honest about. Record giving can still come with record control concentrated in a small set of hands, and it can still leave the most urgent needs underfunded if they aren’t fashionable or personally meaningful to donors.
So what standard should we use to judge this trend: the amount moved into charitable funds, or the amount that actually reaches real organizations quickly enough to change outcomes?