(This piece I wrote and published 1998 is reprinted by request for someone who emailed me looking for it.)
You see the ads, a bedraggled but darling little Latino girl, sitting in a slum, staring steadfastly at the cameraman while a voice describes her impoverished life and then gives you an amazing statistic: that whatever you spend on, for instance, a cup of coffee every day will feed and clothe this kid, even send her to school. A few pennies a day will save this kid’s life.
The fundraising organizations that funnel your money to Consuela and her cousins will claim that 80 percent of their revenue goes to child care services and only 20 percent to advertising. Buried in that 80 percent, though, is a vast assortment of expenses that are peripherally related to routing the money to Consuela. It's a long, long funnel and down that funnel are many outstretched hands, not belonging to needy children with big eyes and empty bowls.
When I worked at one of these foundations, my own salary was included in that 80 percent. How did I help Consuela? I sent you your receipt when you sent in your money. If you complained that you hadn't gotten a receipt, or you wanted another photo of Consuela, or you wanted a letter from Consuela, your complaint went to my desk and I checked into the problem and wrote you back. And it wasn't just me being supported by your generosity. There was the mail sorters who brought me your complaints, and the mailroom that mailed out my responses, and the supervisors over me, and the supervisors over them, and the field representative in Consuela's region, and the supervisor of the project, and the workers under the supervisor. They all get part of your money and this is considered helping Consuela.
Then there's the payroll department that cut my check, and took out my medical benefits and taxes, and cut the checks for all the people along the funnel. That's part of helping Consuela, too. Then there’s the travel budget. To send a committee from the fundraising organization around the world to visit the projects means airline tickets, hotel rooms, room service, bellhops and taxi drivers. All this is helping Consuela. Then there's the obvious things, the office buildings, office supplies, office furniture, the utility bills for the offices. All this comes out of your help for Consuela.
Where did you think it came from?
There's this myth about the cost of living in other countries. Why, you can feed a family in India for a month for what you pay for a cup of coffee each day!
Maybe so. If you have 300 children under a project umbrella and at least $2 a month finally filters down to them, that's $600, and perhaps that does pay the lunch tab for everyone, or buys enough pencils and notebooks for the crowd. Have you significantly made this child's life better?
It's too much of a variable. In Consuela's case, she is probably one of six to 15 children, living in a predominantly Catholic country that discourages birth control. She'll marry young, and even if -- with your encouragement, lunch and pencil money -- she finishes school and learns a trade, she's going to have her own family of six to 15 children and won't be able to work for very long.
Charities are big businesses that benefit many people, primarily the people who work at the charity or the people who do advertising or fundraising for it. Show me an all-volunteer organization with all donated materials and supplies and perhaps they're really making an impact on those they're helping.
People give because it makes them feel good, or they want that tax deductible receipt because if it comes down to giving it to the government or just about anyone else, they'll go with just about anyone else.
How do I know this? Say there was an organization that helped needy children, but the contributors received no photographs, no letters, no reports, no receipts, no television programs with a weeping Sally Struthers stumbling in the muck, because all the energy and money that goes into providing those things would go instead to helping the child. How many people would sign up?
If there were no advertisements of dirty-faced urchins that cost $20,000 a week to run, but instead just a collection box in the church or local community center, how many people would faithfully put in their check every month?
There are some success stories. There are some people who go to extraordinary measures to actually help. They will give more than the monthly allotment and take the time to personally monitor how the extra money's being spent. They will travel to the child, and with all the tact and determination they can muster, work their way through and around the protective bureaucracy to do something truly useful on a grand scale for the child and his or her family. They use the charity as a springboard, but quickly figure out they have to personally take control of the situation if they expect their financial contribution to not be dissipated in a vast downward funnel.
Charities fill a need, all right. They are filling your need to feel like a humanitarian. They are filling your need to feel like a good guy at a discount bargain price. I've seen ads that let you buy into a child for as little as $10, so there's a sliding scale of feel-goodism priced for your budget. You, too, can be the next Mother Theresa in the comfort of your own home. I don't think many people really care where the money goes, as long as they are getting what they need -- their warm fuzzies, their receipt, their urchin's photograph or Christmas card. And the charities know this.
(Copyright 1998)
