Want to fuel third world corruption? Try charity!

I’ve always been a bit sceptical about charity. There’s wanting to do good, and there’s a blind faith that as soon as some loose change leaves your pocket destined for a collection tin then you’ve ticked some sort of ethical box and should feel ultra fuzzy and happy in the knowledge you’ve ‘made a difference’. I hate the awkward ‘smile and dodge’ attitude one often has to adopt when faced with pink-cheeked, clipboard wielding (and let’s not forget, paid by the hour) Save the Children workers whist Christmas shopping. I also hate the rather unsatisfactory feeling of having to give as a result of emotional blackmail. Charity has become glamorised- a way of naive celebrities wanting to help the world, whilst at the same time conveniently scoring a few publicity points.

Is this desperately cynical of me? Perhaps. Maybe it’s an excuse for someone who finds some charities a little sickly, or who resents regularly giving away what meagre amount is left of my student loan. But I’m not against charity as a whole, only the attitude that many have towards it; namely that it is untouchable by criticism. And here’s why.

Charity, notably to developing countries, can be irrelevant or even harmful. There’s barely time here to even scratch the surface of the ‘bad aid’ debate. Essentially, money can get corrupted, act as an incentive for leaders to seize power or suppress reform, and cause an unbalanced appreciation of the currency, damaging the economy.

Humanitarian aid has the unenviable task of treading the line between helping those in desperate short-term need, without perpetuating systems of long-term misery. And too often charity to the third world is gone about in the wrong way: take the example of Jason Sadler, who was so heavily criticised of his idealistically conceived, yet economically flawed, campaign to send old shirts to Africa that he had to abandon it.
Charities as organisations are often inefficient, incurring high administration costs, and flood certain areas of supply. We shouldn’t automatically assume they benefit those who they claim to support, despite these ‘good intentions’ (an issue we’ll come back to).

Americans, according to the Charitable Aid Foundation are the most generous people in the world (for giving money, time, and helping strangers). Yet they have far more social problems than, say, Norway, rated a stingy 40th place. Donating is deeply regressive, as Peter Bauer put it ‘an excellent method for transferring money from poor people in rich countries to rich people in poor countries’.

We already have a system that enables those with more money to donate more to worthy causes- the tax system. Charity undermines government provision, replacing it with undemocratic, unaccountable organisations. For example, if charities pump resources into one area, the government may decide to cut its funding to save money. It ends up with the same resources, the only difference being a loss of accountability and regulation.

Thinking that giving only money is sufficient is representative of the immediate gratification we have come to expect from society. Responsibility is shifted elsewhere: I’ve given to charity, I’ve done my bit. Sometimes money is not enough, it can impart apathy, and lead you to believe that all of the world’s problems can be solved by a mere £2 a month.

And when it comes to charitable giving we’re obsessed with intentions. “You don’t get a get-home-free card just for having good intentions.” argues William Easterly, an economist who criticises bad aid. “If a surgeon is about to operate on me, I’m not interested in whether he has good intentions. I’m interested in whether he knows what he’s doing”.

A couple of blissful summers ago, you might have paid an inordinate amount of money to fly out to Kenya and build a fence. Maybe its been subsequently been ripped down, but hey, at least you meant well.

It’s brutal, but there’s a reason why people take the piss out of the ‘gap yahs’. They epitomise the ways in which well-meaning students like us try to help (with the added bonus of enhancing your CV and getting a bit pissed along the way). You may have helped- a bit- but the money you paid could probably have been spent better. A forgiveness of inefficiencies on the basis of sentimentality and sensitivity means that money isn’t being used as effectively as it could be. This could cost lives.

It’s not that charities don’t deserve our money. Many, including ones in the developing world, do incredible, life saving work. Perhaps we need to be more discerning about which charities are most worthy, and the ways in which we choose to help. It’s not like there aren’t enough out there, and competition in the charitable sector could help to drive up standards.

The word charity has become sacrosanct; to criticise it is taboo. But things can only be reformed if they are criticised. Without criticism, aid organisations will not do the good work in the way we want them to do it. It’s dangerous to see anything through rose tinted glasses, and charity really is no exception.