I was prompted to write this blog by the ads I see asking for donations for aid to Gaza.
We keep hearing about the impending famine in Gaza, or lack of medicaI treatment, but I’m not hearing anything about famine among the Hamas soldiers. They are receiving food and medical treatment. It’s pretty clear that Hamas is getting first dibs on aid coming into Gaza. If you are contributing to Gaza aid, you should not forget that the first priority of disbursing your aid is to Hamas fighters.
But the theme of this blog is not Hamas or Gaza. It is about the fact that in order to do good, you usually pay a price. I remember back in the days of the Ethiopian famine, when Band Aid and other humanitarian groups were trying to send food to the starving. Ethiopian officials basically asked, “What’s it worth to you to help these starving people? We want our cut.” Negotiations followed and some kind of percentage was agreed upon, but in fact the officials had the power, and could have demanded 99% if they had wanted. At least 1% would get through to the starving.
When I was in Mozambique, I saw government officials actually holding people hostage. They would prevent food from entering a region, then say to the donor agencies, we’ll allow food in, at a price. If you don’t pay, we’ll let the people starve.
This scene has haunted me for years, especially since I live in Cambodia, where I have seen this scenario played out in many forms. For example, a charity NGO wants to bring in food for hungry villagers, but are forced to negotiate the cut given to officials for the right to help the villagers. What makes me angry is that everyone is happy with the situation: the NGO gets its glossy photographs for its marketing campaigns, the local officials get their cut, but most importantly, the villagers at least get something, so they won’t complain. In fact, the villagers are never told how much they’re supposed to receive.
However, this phenomenon occurs in much more subtle ways, especially when a do-gooder wants to be ‘the adult in the room’. Suppose you get a job in an aid agency, ostensibly devoted to helping people, where you have a direct influence in delivering that aid. But suppose, further, that the powers-that-be ask you to compromise, and to do something unethical, such as to remain silent in the face of child abuse or other evil doings. You find yourself negotiating with yourself, asking yourself, “How much abuse must I tolerate in order to continue helping the children?” That is a tough question, to which each individual has a different answer.
For example, consider the team of advisers that Trump assembled as President. They could see his madness, but feared he might do something really insane, like pulling the nuclear trigger. They remained with Trump, trying to modify his stances, but found that they were becoming, more and more, slaves to the Trump cult. A few of these people opted out early, or were fired for speaking out too loudly against the Trump madness. Others, like Rudi Giuliani, who no doubt saw himself at first as the ‘adult in the room’, persisted and dug themselves deeper and deeper into the Trump assault on democracy, and in the end, they lost everything.
Here’s another phenomenon I observed here in Cambodia among the NGOs. An international donor agency entrusts a local NGO with implementing a project, say, to distribute food to poor people. I have seen corrupt local NGOs find ways to steal over 80% of the money, but to send the donors heart-warming photos of distribution of food to villagers. The donor agencies are happy, and show the wonderful photos to potential individual contributors. Also, the villagers are happy. They don’t know how much was stolen, and they are receiving something rather than nothing. Everyone is happy.
The issue is further clouded by adding to the ethical mix the ambition for self-advancement. The aid worker wants to move up the administrative ladder and become vice-director, then director of some NGO. That ambition also leads to more subservient compromises, so that pleasing the powers-that-be and submitting good reports and heart-warming photos becomes more important than helping people. It’s easy to convince yourself that you are doing good. Trump’s team saw themselves in the national limelight with important titles and positions, which they were loath to give up.
In the Cambodian NGO world, I have seen many good-hearted foreigners, who, seeing the dire need of poor rural Cambodians and wishing to help, set up their NGOs, but gradually become trapped in the expansion of their empire. Raising money and expanding their system becomes more important than actually helping the children.
So what’s the answer? If you want to do good, where do you draw the line on how much bad stuff you accept in order to keep the right to help others?
I really don’t know, but in my experience, I’d draw that line closer to zero than to one, that is, I’d lean towards saying, “No, I’m not going to play that game, even at the risk of letting people starve.” It’s too easy to get into the game and to go down that slippery slope towards evil, always convincing yourself that you are helping people. It’s the ‘road to hell, paved with good intentions.’