This is an article from the October 4th issue of The Economist:
For most of his life Chuck Feeney has guarded his privacy obsessively. When he became a philanthropist, his gifts came on condition that his name never appeared on any press release or plaque; all donations would cease if confidentiality was breached. But when he decided to co-operate with Conor O'Clery on this book, many of the people in his life, released from their Trappist vows, let themselves go. The result is gripping.
An Irish-American, born in New Jersey in 1931, Mr Feeney made a fortune by co-founding Duty Free Shoppers (DFS) which first sold tax-exempt goods to American soldiers abroad and then tapped into the rise of mass tourism. When DFS was sold in 1997, it had delivered nearly $8 billion to its four main shareholders, of which Mr Feeney was the joint biggest, with 38.75% .
Tax avoidance is the flip side to Mr Feeney's philanthropic coin. He is addicted to it. “Chuck hates taxes. He believes people can do more with money than governments can,” says a friend. In 1964 a young New York lawyer, Harvey Dale, told Mr Feeney that changes in the tax laws threatened his business, which was running risks that could put the founders in jail. On his advice, Mr Feeney and his co-founder, Robert Miller, transferred ownership to their foreign-born wives, from France and Ecuador, respectively.
In 1974, through a deal with the American government, the firm turned the Pacific island of Saipan into a tax haven. Then, in 1978, Mr Feeney grouped his various investments, including his shares of DFS, in a holding company, General Atlantic Group Limited, in tax-free Bermuda. To escape the American taxman, everything was still registered in his wife's name.
Mr Feeney carefully shunned all outward evidence of wealth. But as soon as DFS became reliably profitable, he started the practice of giving 5% of his pre-tax profits to good causes. In 1982 he created a foundation, the Atlantic Philanthropies, based in Bermuda. Two years later he signed over his fortune to the foundation, except for sums set aside for his wife and children. His net worth fell below $5m. When he broke the news to his children, he gave them each a copy of Andrew Carnegie's essay on wealth, written in 1889.
Mr Feeney has given his alma mater, Cornell University, more than $600m, dwarfing all other donations from a single alumnus to an American university. He has contributed hundreds of millions of dollars towards higher education in Ireland, South Africa and Australia. He has helped with health care in Vietnam. In 2004 he went to Cuba, where he met Fidel Castro, who seemed only too happy to accept his capitalist-tax-avoided dollars. But it was his support for the Irish peace process that caused the most controversy, including accusations (without foundation, it turned out) that he had financed the IRA.
Mr Feeney is committed to giving away all the money in his foundation by a fixed date—thought to be in about ten years—but his investment prowess makes this difficult. Currently, Atlantic Philanthropies is worth $4 billion (up from $3.5 billion in 2001) even though, over its lifetime, it has given away about $4 billion in increasing amounts. The trouble for Mr Feeney is that the foundation's assets are growing as fast as he tries to get rid of them.
The Billionaire Who Wasn't: How Chuck Feeney Secretly Made and Gave Away a Fortune. By Conor O'Clery; Public Affairs; 338 pages; $26.95; Perseus Books; £15.99
