Aisling Curtis | Senior Staff Writer
Once we would have called it armchair advocacy, but though it may still be from armchairs this new activism occurs in an online realm. It consists of the indignant and passionate militancy of a Facebook population who are both more exposed to and more numbed by the horrors that infiltrate our world than any generation that has come before. Our daily digital forays bare remote crimes to distracted eyes; disease, death, drone strikes flicker past on our Twitter feed, gone and instantly forgotten.
Our efforts may not involve a vast amount of personal sacrifice, but still they exist
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Student apathy has been overused and overtalked: we’re all sick of hearing about how lazy we are. In response, we often resentfully point to the many occasions when we have helped the less fortunate: some of us went to Ghana or Kenya as part of school trips to help the people there; others will join the SUAS programme, and spend a summer in India housing those who need it most. Many of us actively participated in that infamous KONY campaign. Most recently, #makeupfreeselfie has raised significant funds for cancer research organisations worldwide.
There is an element of the aggrieved upon facing such accusations: see, we say we do help. Our efforts may not involve a vast amount of personal sacrifice, but still they exist. And, truth be told, they do raise some of that intangible component that charities so rabidly seek: awareness. Statistics suggest that over half of American young adults heard about the KONY campaign in the days following its viral release. And if word of mouth is anything to go by, Irish teenagers are largely aware of the #makeupfreeselfie trend that has sprung out of nowhere, buoyed by the twin oars of personal vanity and public concern. With several million in donations towards Cancer Research, it can’t be denied that its effect has been substantial and far-reaching; without such displays from bare-faced women and cosmetic-painted men, cancer-fighting charities would be a few million short, and nobody could possibly argue that that would be a good thing.
It’s unlikely the charities will see the donations continue in the weeks to come, once a new righteous cause rears its head
But does this nebulous “awareness” absolve us of the niggling catches inherent in these campaigns? There is a dark side to contemporary Western charity, one that is rarely discussed, because to disagree with the virtuousness of these crusades is to disagree with the concept of charity itself. To be the person who stands up and says, “really, how much do these help?”, is to be the Scrooge in the corner, hoarding her pennies and sneering at others’ good deeds. Nevertheless, I must ask: how much do these help? While #makeupfreeselfie has raised several million – and there’s no denying the impact that this money will have – still this upsurge in donations is simply a swell in an ebbing tide; it’s unlikely the charities will see the donations continue in the weeks to come, once a new righteous cause rears its head. And yet, you may argue, it is still beneficial: it encourages donation from those who might not otherwise call these charities to mind. These campaigns get people talking; they bring forgotten causes to the fore. But does this talk and these actions and this thinking solely help those we claim to support – or does it help ourselves?
Modern charity is less about donating and more about doing: taking pictures of yourself without makeup, sharing a graphic photo via Facebook pleading for likes, jailbreaking out of the country in support of Amnesty and SVP, travelling with SUAS to construct houses for those in need. But do we help, or do we hinder? I wonder whether the influx of wealthy Irish teenagers into rundown Indian villages does much other than give such teenagers a chance to see “the other side of the tracks”: inexperienced, unused to the culture, they try to help, building houses without any professional knowledge of construction beyond the basics of how to lay a brick. A friend who lived in India told me that often Indian builders would come at night to fix the work done by visiting students during the day. Though their intentions are undoubtedly pure, filled with the desire to truly evoke change, it must be asked whether the several thousand euro they raise – much of which goes towards their own flights and accommodation and insurance costs – might be put to better use by professionals within the countries themselves? Professionals who would benefit from the wages and the work, communities who would thrive due to the knock-on effect of employment and improved facilities and all the things that SUAS could bring them, without the tag-along of young activists, eager to see the dirty underbelly of the world.
We are reluctant to donate for the sake of donation itself, perhaps because it affords us nothing in return
The concept of giving has become an act of giving to ourselves. We afford ourselves the opportunity to visit disadvantaged areas, to jailbreak away to Sydney and Munich and Dubai under the righteous guise of charitable action, to post carefully-blurred photos of ourselves in all our raw makeup-free glory, for the sake of cancer research and a donation that you don’t require a picture to provide. Though it’s true that these campaigns strike a match to our attention, they catch fire in a fleeting, enthusiastic blaze that swiftly dies down, their brevity leaving little lasting effect. It seems far more that their impact is upon us: the experiences that we walk away with stick, more long-lasting than what we leave these charities with. It may be a consequence of our individualistic society, and the notion that nothing should be for free; but we are reluctant to donate for the sake of donation itself, perhaps because it affords us nothing in return.
The old adage “there’s no such thing as a free lunch” seems to be more true than ever before. Of course, if this is the new conception of charity, then naturally it’s better than no charity at all. But I have to ask: why do we need to see a return on our charitable down-payment? Why can’t we give purely for the sake of it, for the altruistic knowledge that someone has benefited from the money that we can spare?
