Dictonary.com defines the word legacy as “… a gift of property, especially personal property, as money, by will; a bequest” and as “… anything handed down from the past, as from an ancestor or predecessor.”
The word is derived from the Middle English word legacie, meaning “office of a deputy or legate.”
Legate (in Latin, legatus) is defined as “an ambassador, envoy or emissary.” In Roman history, this was someone appointed by the emperor of Rome to govern in a Roman province. Eventually this came to mean, in the Catholic Church, someone delegated by the Pope as his representative.
So in its derivation, the term “legacy” was originally associated with an action—being sent on a mission to represent a third party to others. Yet, in its current definition and usage today, “legacy” most often refers to an object: a legal structure, such as a charitable trust or a family foundation; or a physical object—a thriving business, a sum of money, a building on a college campus and so on.
If we think of “legacy” as referring to an object, then our attention and consideration are drawn to the object. But what if we think of “legacy” in its original derivation—as referring to an envoy, or an emissary, or as someone who is sent on a mission? In that case, our attention may be drawn less to the object and more to the people whose mission it is to deliver the object.
These different interpretations of the word have powerful implications for families, and their efforts to secure something lasting in life.
Interpretations In Action
A Korean-American businessman and his wife funded a family foundation when their two sons were in their teens. The foundation, whose gifts were restricted to preserving Korean culture in America, was intended to keep the family together and to keep the parents’ legacy alive. Each of the two children was entitled to a seat on the foundation board when he turned 25. And as each son reached that age, he dutifully took his seat on the board. The foundation functioned well for a few years, but eventually the children found themselves increasingly distant from the foundation’s goals and in conflict with their parents. One son went to university in the United Kingdom and settled there, working as an investment banker with his Western wife. The second son wanted to explore his Korean roots after he completed college and moved to Korea, where he settled with his Korean wife. Both sons wanted to continue working for the foundation as directors, but they both believed that the restriction of gifts to the preservation of Korean culture in America was far too restrictive and narrow. What about Korean culture in Western countries outside the U.S., or in Korea itself? The parents were adamant that their legacy would be Korean culture in America (after all, both parents’ families had immigrated to the U.S. and done well there), and they demanded their sons’ agreement and obedience. Eventually the conflict over the family foundation tore the family apart: Both sons resigned their seats on the board and stopped attending meetings. Today, the foundation is a source of pain and regret in a family whose relationships have been devastated by this disagreement.
In another family, based in the U.S., the second-generation leader of a very successful family business created a series of trusts whose beneficiaries were his four children. The trusts were designed so that distributions from shares held in the family company could be used to purchase additional shares that could be held in individual investment accounts. “There’s no better investment,” the dad repeatedly stated to his children. “This was my father’s legacy to me. And this is my legacy to you.” The trusts performed exactly as planned and built up considerable wealth for all the children—but almost 100% of that wealth was invested in the family company. The children, now adults, and now acting as co-trustees of their own trusts, began to assume more and more responsibility for managing their personal wealth. And, being educated and informed investors, they all began to consider whether to slow down the purchase of stock in the family company, or to stop buying the stock altogether, in order to diversify their assets. But they were all reluctant to take that step because they believed that their father would be hurt by that action, and that his legacy to the family would be destroyed. Nevertheless, with the encouragement of several key advisors, a family meeting was held and the children presented to their father a proposal to diversify, along with their understanding of the hurt this could cause him. He thought for a moment and then began to laugh. “Why the laughter?” he was asked. “Because I don’t want the company’s shares to be my legacy. It’s the freedom of what you all could do with the shares that’s my legacy!” And so the decision to diversify was approved. But the story actually continues: Although the diversification was approved, none of the children took advantage of the opportunity. They are all still buying stock in the company—and nicely building their wealth.
These two vignettes, drawn from the experiences of real families (though with identifying information disguised) illustrate two very different interpretations of the meaning of a legacy, with two correspondingly different outcomes. In the first family, the focus was on a structure: The purpose of the family foundation (the structure) was held to be immutable and unresponsive to the sons’ wishes. As a result, the parents’ intended legacy (a family foundation run collaboratively by family members for generations) was virtually destroyed (though the foundation’s funds themselves remained intact). The second family focused on people: The meaning of the family’s legacy itself was redefined in the third generation as a gift of “freedom to choose” rather than as “shares in a business”; as such, the family legacy will probably be passed on intact for at least one more generation.
This is not an either/or matter; both objects and people are important. But it is crucial to note in considering a family’s legacy that the integrity of a legacy depends at least as much on people and relationships—the legates—as it does on the objects involved. Thus, it is essential not to divorce the objects of one’s legacy from the people who are intended to carry it on. The objects that are intended to constitute a family’s legacy may continue to exist, but they will be devoid of meaning if people are not behind them (as in the case of the example above).
Implications
It follows from this discussion that the most sustainable legacies will be built upon an understanding that a legacy will best survive and will most likely serve its intended purpose if it is properly represented by emissaries, those people who accept the mission to sustain and transition the legacy. But those people who are entrusted to act as emissaries must themselves be properly engaged in the vision and purpose—the dream—of the legacy.
In one family, the founder of a billion-dollar company believed that a successful future for the family business would be his legacy. The company thrived in locations where other businesses failed and provided jobs and generous benefits to employees who otherwise would have struggled. His oldest son was identified as the next CEO until he suddenly stated his intention to resign. “What happened?” I asked the founder. “It was the legacy I dreamed of, not my son’s,” he told me, “and I neglected to ask my son about his dreams.” The son clearly was not well engaged with his father’s intended legacy. So one component of successfully passing on a legacy is to ensure that the dream is shared by others. This can be promoted in various ways, including:
• Open communication about what the legacy means to the grantor. In one family, a charitable foundation was viewed by the founder as his legacy, and he made it very clear very often that the foundation needed a high public profile. His son and daughter were opposed to the public profile and resisted engaging wholeheartedly in activities related to the foundation. This led to repeated conflict in the family, until at one meeting the founder’s son-in-law asked why the public profile was so important. Surprisingly, this was the first time anyone had asked that simple question. The founder explained that a branch of his family had a poor reputation in the press, and he viewed his charitable foundation—his legacy—as an opportunity to change that. That simple explanation secured much better engagement by his children.
• Asking questions and requesting (not requiring) active involvement of those people who will carry the legacy forward. People are much more likely to engage in a mission when they believe they can choose to do so. They will resist if they feel they are obligated to participate.
• Nurturing good family relationships so that the emissaries may view their engagement in the mission of the legacy as an act of love and perhaps even of giving back to the grantor.
• Ensuring that a legacy’s emissaries perceive personal value in serving the intended mission. In the Roman Empire, a legatus received large shares of the wealth derived from a province. In the present context, material benefits may be less important than the perception of intangible benefits received, such as gratitude, appreciation, respect and authority.
One way to think of a legacy is as a gift from the present into the future. However, because it extends over time, we might rather think of it as a series of gifts, first from the grantor and then from his or her emissaries to succeeding generations. So for a legacy to continue having meaning, good engagement must occur repeatedly over time. In other words, the dream must be kept alive, if the legacy is to be more than just an object devoid of meaning. Although there are many paths to this end, I discuss two below.
First, it is essential to tell and retell the story that lies behind the legacy. In the Jewish religion, the story of Passover is an example of a legacy that has lasted thousands of years. Every year the story is retold at a family Seder, during Passover dinner. In telling the story, each family becomes an emissary of the legacy. Those telling the story are encouraged to tailor their explanations so that children with differing personal qualities (wise, rebellious, intellectually challenged, withdrawn) can understand them. Participants are encouraged to ask questions, perhaps most importantly, “What does this Passover mean to me?” These are good guidelines for any legacy to be kept alive: Tailor the story to the people who are receiving it and encourage questions, in particular questions about personal engagement and relevance. Today the story behind a legacy can be told in many ways—in print, of course, but also on a website, through video recording and so on.
Second, a legacy that has the capacity to adapt to changing circumstances will be most likely to endure over time. The analogy of a tightrope walker carrying a balance pole is appropriate here: Stability requires change. In order to remain stable, the acrobat must change his or her weight and body position using the balance pole. In a like manner, the objects of one’s legacy must adapt in order to remain relevant. For example, the Scott Family Trust in the U.K. was established in 1936 and re-formed twice, in order to adapt and to carry on the legacy of the original Scott family. Physical objects that constitute a legacy may drift into irrelevance and neglect if new relationships are not built to support and sustain the object’s relevance after a donor is gone. Continued relevance can be achieved either through physical changes in the object, or through the engagement of new people to celebrate the object.
Legacies Require People
At its heart, a legacy must be more than physical objects or legal structures. It is certainly possible to create objects or structures that will survive the ravages of time. But as I have noted, these objects become barren and devoid of meaning without people behind them to carry them forward. The dream of a legacy will become only a fantasy—not rooted in reality—if the representatives, the emissaries, the legates, are forgotten.
