The problem with charity - Sumiko Tan
To give is divine but what if the intention behind the giving is
less than charitable?
I'VE always been wary of the word 'charity'.
For one, I pray I never have to be in a position where I have to
beg for anyone's charity.
This, I suppose, is a result of growing up in a society that
eschews handouts and emphasises self-made success.
Another reason is that the word 'charity' smacks of condescension -
to me, at least.
It conjures up the image of a rich personage standing in his gilded
balcony bestowing his largesse on a quivering, grateful mass of the
unwashed below.
I am, of course, being uncharitable (and dramatic), putting it like
this.
Don't get me wrong. I've no doubt that the milk of human kindness
runs deep in the human species, and it is what has nourished us and
kept us going as a race.
What I mean is that the word 'charity', for all its noble origins
and intentions, has taken on a I'm-better-than-thou
association.
Words like 'compassion', 'mercy' and 'kindness' depict better the
values that 'charity' stands for.
But I'm quibbling over semantics.
This column is about how recent events have proven that the world
is not short on charity/compassion/mercy/kindness, call it what you
will.
Witness the outpouring of help, both monetary and in kind, for
victims of the tsunami.
Still, I wonder, what is charity, really?
To give is, of course, divine. But what if the intention behind the
giving is a bit more fuzzy? Does the act of charity still stand up
to scrutiny, then?
For example, a person who goes out of his way to help a stranger is
undoubtedly charitable and should be praised.
But what if this same person turns a blind eye to the needs of his
immediate family and neighbours? (And I do know people like that.)
Would he still be considered charitable?
If you are willing to take a week's leave from work to fly off to
Banda Aceh to help the victims of the tsunami, that is truly
laudable and I applaud you.
But how many would take leave to offer their services to, say, the
Ren Ci Hospital in Jalan Tan Tock Seng? Or the leprosy home in
Lorong Buangkok? Or is that sort of altruistic work less
rewarding?
I don't mean to question or devalue the goodness of
well-intentioned volunteers. I'm sure the majority offered their
services with a pure and compassionate heart. And charity is
charity, whether you do it at home or in Trincomalee.
Besides, I who have been sitting on my butt these few weeks and who
have done nothing significant to help, should be the last person to
criticise anyone.
But the cynic in me does wonder: Could there be slivers of
selfishness buried in this great outpouring of help?
How much of it has to do with the 'glamour' of the tsunami tragedy
and wanting to be in the thick of 'action'? With wanting to acquire
the bragging rights and war wounds of having been involved in
modern history's worst natural disaster?
Some of you would tell me to get real: Nobody's perfect. What's
wrong with little specks of personal selfishness if actions result
in overall good, if help is indeed rendered and lives
improved?
I don't know.
Then there is the question of quantifying charity.
Is a person who donates $50 less charitable than one who gives
$500? Or should one's charity quotient be pegged to a percentage of
his income?
Is Bill Gates, who donated US$3 million to tsunami relief, less
charitable than Michael Schumacher, who gave US$10 million?
Correspondingly, is Schumacher a 'better' person? And Gates more
'stingy'? Then again, if you announce your charitable deed -
presumably to show how generous you are - is that embracing the
true spirit of altruism?
If you donate clothes and shoes you no longer have use for, is that
charity? Or is the true test giving away something you
treasure?
Then there is 'conditional' charity.
Spend $10 and $1 will go to charity, say some shops. Charity? Or
cashing in on the situation?
THE problem with charity is fatigue.
As the German playwright Bertolt Brecht once wrote: 'A man who sees
another man on the street corner with only a stump for an arm will
be so shocked the first time, he'll give him sixpence.
'But the second time it'll only be a threepenny bit. And if he sees
him a third time, he'll cold-bloodedly have him handed over to the
police.'
The demands of charity today are non-stop and overwhelming.
You get pleas in the mail. Letters are addressed personally to you
in pretty cursive font, imploring you to write a cheque to improve
the life of a disfigured child whose story is related in the most
heart-rending way possible.
You get appeals in the newspaper asking you to sponsor the meals of
disadvantaged students.
You get donation tins thrust in your face as you walk down Orchard
Road. You get people asking you to buy tissue paper. You get
fund-raising shows on TV urging you to phone in a donation.
To be a 'successful' charity today, it's all about branding and
marketing.
It's all about creating a three-hour show or a three-page pamphlet
cleverly packaged to tug, not only at the heartstrings, but also
purse strings.
Society is becoming so desensitised to suffering that charities
have to trot out more and more dramatic images of suffering - real
and manufactured.
TV charity shows are an example, juxtaposing sad images of sick
people with beautiful actresses sweating with fear as they attempt
dangerous stunts.
It also explains why the tsunami got such an overwhelming response.
The images of extreme suffering, packaged and shown non-stop on
global TV, moved people to action.
The true test of how compassionate one really is will be six months
down the road, when Banda Aceh no longer merits a headline.
Will there still be hundreds of volunteers queueing up to help
rebuild the lives there?
Call me cynical, but I fear not.
And that, I think, will be another tragedy.
