the universal brotherhood of the cynical

For Christmas last year, my wife and I told our families that rather than giving us gifts, we’d like it if they donated to charity in our names. We just felt like we didn’t really NEED anything, especially compared to most other people on the planet. I have to be honest, I did feel some twinges of loss on Christmas day in not getting gifts for me, but these were minor and passed quickly. Plus, I didn’t have the clutter of a bunch of stuff I didn’t want as well as knowing that, hopefully, some people were helped.

I was surprised at how positively my family reacted to the idea, but there was also a bit of a funny dynamic that I was reminded of yesterday when a letter from one of the donations arrived in the mail. My parents donated to Sleeping Children Around the World for us, a charity that provides bedding to children in developing countries. Apparently, such bedding can be difficult to get and what a difference good sleep can make to a person’s life. But one thing my parents enthusiastically noted was that you get a picture of the person who your donation goes to – every communication they had with us on the topic involved reiterating this point. When I grew up, they also tended to donate to CARE, I think it was, and so we would have a child receiving our money with whom we would occasionally exchange correspondence. My parents are in to the photo thing.

I tend to be reactionary (my wife once nailed me perfectly during a fight by saying that I wanted to see my self as iconoclastic – great use of argument and language [I had to look up what iconoclast meant], it was very disarming), and really found myself turned off by the idea that the recipient would be more or less forced into an act of deference, really that they would be forced to do anything, in order to receive the donation. See, I know the arguments about the nature of altruism, but I really didn’t want to donate in order to be thanked, I wanted to do it because I thought it was what I should do. And I certainly didn’t want to donate to set up a social comparison, e.g., “Look how that poor blighter is better off because of my compassion.” It’s just too imperialist/colonialist, and it makes me uncomfortable.

Now, I can understand why some people do want photographic proof. I think some people are suspicious that their money goes to overhead rather than for helping (personally, I figure overhead is part of helping, so it doesn’t bother me if my money goes for that). Others want to make some kind of human connection, although as noted, I’m suspicious of the potential for self-serving motives.

So anyway, the letter arrived today with the picture of the kid who got the bed kit. I really want to scan it and show it here, but that would totally go against the ethic I’ve been talking about. Suffice it to say, I couldn’t have asked for a better picture under the circumstances. The setup is such that there are 3 bedkits laid out with the words “Kolkata, Doltala, India – 2005,” which I presume is the location where the bedding ended up. Behind the three bedkits are three kids, each with a sign in front of them saying who the donor is. So it’s a kind of factory setup, I suspect, where each kid takes their sign and puts it in front of the pre-arranged kits (not the actual one they will receive, but a display model laid out like a Price is Right showcase). The kids, for some reason, are looking well off-camera. And here’s the part I love – the child with our sign in front of him has this furrowed brow and generally knowing, cynical look that screams, “If you’re done trying to humiliate me, can I go home now?” Sure, I’m probably projecting, but in the end this picture makes me feel better than I could have possibly imagined.

I don’t want to be overly cynical about this. One benefit of the picture is you get to see exactly what the kids receive, and it’s a broader package than I had thought. It’s not just bedding, but other stuff including shoes, a backpack, and a metal cup that looks suspiciously like a martini shaker. I hope my scowling friend finds it all useful, and understands at some level that I am sorry the picture had to happen. Good night, sweet prince.