Tough Questions Part 2: Giving - Is Something Better Than Nothing?
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| image credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/christmas-christmas-gift-3024428/ |
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Is Something Better Than Nothing?
By Kait TenHarmsel
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| Photo Courtesy of COME UNITY |
"There is much more to doing good work than "making a difference." There is the principle of first do no harm. There is the idea that those who are being helped ought to be consulted over the matters that concern them.” -Teju Cole, "The White-Savior Industrial Complex"
“Isn’t something better than nothing?” I’ve wrestled with this question for many years. The shoebox filled with small Christmas toys, the used coat drive, the family whose name and wish lists we pick off a tree, the young American helping to fund the construction of a church floor in an East African slum--it helps at least a little, right? Something is better than nothing. That is the argument.
I’ve sat in the tension of that question many times and have wished I could say, “Yes. Something is better than nothing.” Why? Because “something” is easier. Something requires a fleeting moment of investment and thought, and sometimes that’s all we have left to give. What's more, I know the question is always asked by well-intentioned, generous people. But the truth is, “something” misplaced or inappropriate can actually do more harm than good. Harm and good can coexist. But often, the piece of good that accompanies the harm gets elevated, while the harm is dismissed under “good intentions.” No one wants to admit that good intentions didn’t live up to their full potential. But if we want to see real change in the world, we have to dismantle the narrative we’ve come to know about giving.
The Power of Privilege
When I was sixteen, I decided to forgo Christmas gifts and instead asked my parents to give me the money they would have spent so I could fill shoe boxes with small toys, candy, and hygiene items. These boxes were going to be sent around the world to spread the love of God to those who did not have access to the resources I had access to. I put an enormous amount of thought and care into what I purchased, imagining each child opening my gifts. I carefully packed and wrapped the boxes and confidently dropped them off at my local collection center. I felt great. I felt this was the gospel at work and I got to be a part of His great mission. Was my choice well-intentioned? Absolutely. Did I set out to make an impact and spread the gospel? One hundred percent. Was that the best use of my time and money? Unfortunately, no.
I don’t believe the shoebox organization is innately bad, but I do think that it misses the mark by a long shot. These boxes are shipped and distributed to people around the world, many of whom struggle to feed their kids each day, who can’t afford to send them to school, and who lack access to the most basic human needs, rights, and dignities. A shoe box filled with small toys may bring a child a moment of excitement, but I think there are two things the shoe box fails to acknowledge. First, it fails to acknowledge the real needs of a person. It says all you need is Jesus, and this moment of joy your child has felt in opening this box is the type of joy we are inviting you into. But that child's mother or father is carrying burdens so heavy, we can’t even begin to comprehend. They don’t need Christmas gifts for their child; they need opportunities to provide for their family themselves.
Second, buying gifts on behalf of parents who can't afford to do it themselves undermines their dignity. Think about a time when you worked so hard for something. You put every ounce of yourself into achieving it. Now imagine after years of investment, someone walked through the door and solved your problem for twenty minutes and then left. This is the power of privilege. Privilege allows us to walk in and out when we want. The mothers and fathers who are working every day to provide for their families, who work hard saving coins throughout the year to hopefully be able to provide something special for a holiday, have now been completely undermined by the person of privilege swooping in with a box full of toys. We steal what parents have worked hard to build, and we share an unrealistic picture of the gospel.
The Hero of Their Story
At twenty-one, I accepted a summer internship in Kampala, Uganda. One Sunday, I visited a church in a nearby slum. The building was a humble structure with half a floor finished in concrete, the other half dirt. For three hours, I worshiped with the local community and at one point, the construction of the floor came up. The community had spent over a year fundraising for the first half of their concrete floor. They needed $350 to finish it. I watched as members of the church came together, giving what they had, to finish their floor. This was a community that, by my standards, had very little, but was joining together to create something to improve their community, and to give back in true sacrifice. Immediately following the service, I found a way to provide the $350.00 for them that they needed to finish the floor. I excitedly shared this news with my team; we gave the money to the pastor, and I even got the opportunity to go and help them mix and shovel the concrete. I felt great. The congregation was happy, and I believed we had done some good for this little church in a Kampala slum.
What I know now, which I didn’t at the time, is that poverty runs far deeper than physical need. And the little bit of good I did that day also may have done a lot of harm. For one year this community had come together to give what they had, and they were proud of what they had accomplished with the leadership of their pastor. But in one quick move, I became the hero of their story. In doing so, I minimized the community's year of sacrificial giving and undermined the pastor's leadership. It’s also very possible that I put the pastor in a tougher position when I left, as more people came to the church with their needs, expecting the pastor to bring the American guests back to meet them. My presence in East Africa alone can be disruptive because of my skin color and the continent of Africa's history of colonialism, but my actions further fed into the story so many African nations have learned: that you must please the westerner to receive funding.
Root Causes
Sometimes the weight of stories like this can move us to a place of paralysis wondering what is right and wrong. But these stories are not meant to discourage us. As a recovering perfectionist who also deeply desires justice in the world, I daily have to learn the story of grace in the spaces where I work and serve. Poverty and injustice are incredibly complex, and they touch every part of every society. From time to time, our good intentions will inevitably fall on failed solutions. But I believe we, as a culture and in our communities, can do better. We know enough now to move past handouts and giving that treats symptoms of poverty instead of root causes. We know enough now to actually work toward transformative, life-giving, sustainable change.
This holiday season I challenge us to move past our good intentions, to move past the notion that “something is better than nothing,” and to invest our resources in organizations that are doing the hard work of understanding the root causes of the injustice we see every day. You may have to give up the fun of going shopping or the tangible vision of your money at work, but you’ll be a part of something much bigger than yourself. I believe that is the call on our life as a global community, as Christians, and as people who care.
COME UNITY is 501c3 non-profit that "partners with East African communities to develop sustainable solutions to poverty. Together, we meet basic needs, provide education, and create opportunities that allow our partners to build self-sufficient lives." To find out more about COME UNITY, visit www.comeunitynow.org. You can also email Kait at ktenharmsel@comeunitynow.org.