Anyone who has thought about it for more than a nanosecond agrees that “nonprofit” is about the worst possible summary we could give of ourselves and our work.

As I wrote recently, the word “profit” comes from the Latin noun profectus for “progress” and the verb proficere for “to advance.” Thus, “nonprofit” means, etymologically, nonprogress. This is not a simple case of mistaken meaning. It is a dangerous unconscious statement of intent, or lack of it. The term has its roots in the Puritan conviction that the self was depraved and must be negated. Charity, as the Puritans constructed the concept, became the epicenter for this negation. No advance. No progress.

Even on the basis of the modern understanding of profit, the nonprofit sector suffers from the distinction of being the only sector whose name begins with a negative, as professor Allen Grossman noted. It apologizes for itself before it begins. It communicates only what it is against and is silent about what it is for.

If that weren’t bad enough, there’s this from author James Hillman: “Definitions using negation or privation are psychologically unsophisticated. The excluded notion immediately comes to mind…” No wonder the majority of the public mistakenly thinks that too little of the money they donate goes to its intended purpose.

So what should we call ourselves?

The inspiring options floating around (and often used) are:

The third sector I’m sure the poor would love to know they are so prioritized;

I’m sure the poor would love to know they are so prioritized; The independent sector Last I checked Exxon was pretty independent. And last I checked, whether it’s the IRS opining on where charity executives eat or Congress usurping board authority on compensation, the nonprofit sector was not. So if you’re into denial, this one is a good option;

Last I checked Exxon was pretty independent. And last I checked, whether it’s the IRS opining on where charity executives eat or Congress usurping board authority on compensation, the nonprofit sector was not. So if you’re into denial, this one is a good option; The voluntary sector Do people work for for-profit companies involuntarily? And doesn’t this one just reinforce the ridiculous popular notion, which we’ve all encountered, that we do this work — and should do this work — for free?;

Do people work for for-profit companies involuntarily? And doesn’t this one just reinforce the ridiculous popular notion, which we’ve all encountered, that we do this work — and should do this work — for free?; The social sector As in society? And that distinguishes us from the rest of society how?





With those choices, we’d be better off sticking with nonprofit. If we’re going to be noncommittal, we might as well be committed about it.

But let us not resign ourselves to this little universe. Let’s embrace truth — embrace our dreams, our real motivations — our souls, even. People were not so phlegmatic centuries ago. They wore their hearts on their sleeves. The word “charity” comes from the Greek “charos,” for grace. It’s tender. It’s beautiful. The word “philanthropy” comes from an equally honest elucidation — the Latin “philos” and “anthropos” for “love of humanity.” Love. Grace. Humanity. Now we’re getting somewhere.

There is an unspeakable sadness at the root of the work this sector does. Whether it is the thought of a three year-old AIDS orphan, terrified and alone in the squalor of a South African ghetto, or of young children watching their mother die a slow but certain death of breast cancer in Boston, the conditions that draw us into this work strike at the very heart of our deepest vulnerabilities. It is a visceral poignancy that calls us to do what we do. It is in our hearts, not our heads.

What brings us to this work is our humanity. And what makes the work happen is the generosity of countless people from all socioeconomic levels, who make donations out of their humanity. Moreover, it is for humanity that all of this effort is undertaken. To call it by another name is at best to miss the point, and at worst to betray it.

With impassive and defective labels like “social” and “nonprofit,” we distance ourselves from what is truly at stake. We turn life and death into dispassionate jargon. From there we invent antiseptic lexicons removed from any sense of pain or tragedy to explain our work. We strip emotion from discussion and description. Words like “third” and “independent” reek of half-heartedness, of anesthetizing generality, of resignation, death.

“Humanity,” on the other hand, pulsates with life.

Confucious said that “If names are not correct, language will not be in accordance with the truth of things.” What is our truth? Death — or life?