The Plan

Having a plan is a good idea (except when it's not)

When I was just 15 years old my father took me on my very first trip to Zaire (now DR Congo). This trip sparked in me an obsession to understand why there was so much poverty in world, why it didn’t feel like go-gooder efforts were getting anywhere, and what the anti-poverty experts knew that I could then take back and share with folks in the church pews.  Thus, over 16 years ago (was it really that long ago?!) I enrolled in American University’s BA/MA program in International Development.

My plan seemed so simple:

• Step #1: Learn everything that is known on the causes of and solutions to poverty.
• Step #2: Use this knowledge to critique dominant do-gooder/mission models and offer an alternative path of action.
• Step #3: Introduce new model to the masses.  Do this through writing a book, becoming a traveling keynoter/consultant, be elected/appointed to a leadership position, etc.
• Step #4: Be happy in the knowledge that my work had made a difference in this world.

If only changing the world were as easy as it seemed back then. My plan was based on numerous naïve assumptions. For example, it turned out that anti-poverty experts knew a lot more about projects that have failed than they did about formulas for success (I spent five straight years analyzing countless failed development initiatives---what that did to my mental health is another conversation). It also turned out that when you try to explain to folks--especially church folk--that they are using antiquated mission models, their predictable response is not one of appreciation and requests for your advice on how to change. In fact, this is an easy way to quickly make yourself persona non grata in both ‘conservative’ and ‘progressive’ religious circles. There aren't many returned phone calls or consulting contracts for the nerd who dares to suggest that a congregation/conference/agency overhaul its beloved mission program.  

Needless to say, I’ve been somewhere between steps #2 & #3 for several years now, and I often think of the old plan as a bad joke. At times I suspect that what I thought was my call was simply me listening in on the party line. There are, for example, a handful of recently released bestselling books that say much of what I've been trying to explain (Toxic Charity, for example). Change seems inevitable even without my voice in the mix, although I don't think we've reached a tipping point yet (perhaps in secular society, but the church is more resistant).

I've yet to find a book that covers everything that should be said on the topic, but I'm pretty pumped about the progress my father is making on his book. I've put him on a 1,000/words/day minimum regime and he's been sending me his daily updates for accountability.  At this rate he'll be ready to send the manuscript for professional editing by September. The book's format is heavily influenced by Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, so for those of you who have been hoping for a step-by-step how-to manual on mission work, this won't be it.  It will be, however, a journey into the heart of DR Congo and the ramblings of a mad man on a bicycle. Some of you will find it profound; others will be confused. If you've been following his blogs for awhile, I suspect you will find it enlightening and challenging. It has potential to become a classic, or, at least a cult classic. Of course, Mark Twain defined a classic as "a book which people praise and don't read," so I'm hoping that it gets read before that happens. There is already serious talk of an indie film (not of the book itself, but of one of the stories of heroism told in it); the filmmaker is currently seeking investors for the project.          

The deal Dad and I made was that I'd manage Friendly Planet Missiology this year so that his only professional responsibilities would be to ride his bike (where he does his best thinking) and finish the book.  Who knows--maybe next year will be the year of The Plan.  ;)

Missiology 101, Session #1b: Feeding Other People's Children

Don't judge too quickly; Alpha is well-fed.*

So much is swirling in my brain right now (Peter Capaldi as The 12th Doctor, our embassy closed, FPM initiatives, etc.), but I promised I’d get back to you about last week’s mission trip flyer thinking exercise.

Interesting thing about it, my readers generally fell into two distinct categories: those who were instantly horrified by my example, and those who weren’t sure what I was getting at. More interesting, the less exposure the reader had to ‘mission culture,’ the more objectionable s/he found the flyer I described. I lift this up because I’ve found the same phenomenon true about explaining the work of Friendly Planet Missiology (FPM). With rare exceptions, there is an inverse correlation between how much involvement one has had with mission programs and how easy it is for one to intuitively grasp FPM’s approach and see how it is different from the dominant model. I’ve got some fuzzy ideas on why that may be, but I’m sure one could write a dissertation on that question alone. 

So let’s get back to the mission trip flyer that advertised an “opportunity to feed [insert nationality] children.”  What’s wrong with feeding children? Nothing at all. My husband and I feed our toddler multiple times a day, and occasionally we ask someone we trust to do so on our behalf. I would never consider feeding someone else’s child, however, unless the child’s caretaker requested it, and even then I might refrain (but that’s another conversation). What if the child had a dangerous allergy or other medical food-intake issues? How would I feel if a stranger fed my daughter without my explicit permission?  How would I feel if their manner of doing so showed that they thought I was failing at my parental duties or that they didn’t even recognize my parental role?  American parents warn their children about strangers who hand out candy, so why do so many of them then think it’s ok to be the stranger passing out treats in someone else’s neighborhood?

For decades now, countless do-gooder organizations have launched successful fundraising campaigns in the USA that tell middle-class and wealthy Americans that they have a moral obligation to feed hungry children in faraway places. I distinctly remember in the ‘80s and early ‘90s watching the images of unwashed emaciated barefoot children on my television screen as Sally Struthers stood next to them and pleaded that we give up our morning coffee habit and instead purchase sponsor our very own needy child. Some programs even promised that “your” child would send you thank you cards and pictures. For those exposed to such commercials, the guilt trip was put on so thick that it didn’t occur to most of us to question whether such ‘solutions’ to childhood hunger were even appropriate or what the parents of the children in the commercials thought about all of this! I’m not going to go too deep today into why child sponsorship programs are fundamentally unhealthy (the few that are halfway decent aren’t actually child sponsorship programs; they just do bait&switch fundraising), but I encourage you consider that there are healthier and more effective ways to help children. 

The underlying reason why child sponsorship commercials and mission trips to "feed hungry children" are unhealthy is the same. Both ignore the fact that children don’t fall from the sky, and they don’t survive for long outside of their mother’s womb without at least one person who cares feeding them. Any ‘solution’ to childhood hunger that doesn’t play a support role to this person is offensive and unsustainable. “What about orphans?” you ask. Even most orphans have relatives or community members looking out for them the best they can. Yes, there are situations where children are torn out of a nurturing social fabric and are trapped in abuse, de facto slavery or crime networks, but even then for an outside group to create a ‘solution’ that ignores that the hearts of adults from the child’s home community are also breaking is dehumanizing on one of the deepest levels.

Speaking of dehumanizing thinking, the very semantics of getting to feed local children conjures up memories of going to the petting zoo and, for a few coins, getting to feed the cute baby animals. Despite what generations of traveling sideshows and television commercials have programmed deep into our subconscious, children living in far away places are not objects that God placed on Earth to entertain us nor are they there for us to hand-feed or adopt like an exotic pet. If you don’t feel the least bit uncomfortable when a choir of young orphans performs for you on their USA tour, I suggest taking some time to think about those children not as adorable entertainment but as impressionable kids whose visas will soon expire and will soon be thrust back into their barely functioning orphanage. What kind of psychological damage do you think that will do to them, and what kinds of cruel jealousy backlash from other children and adults will they face when they return home? (but I digress)

Now that I’ve scratched the surface on common blindspots relating to hungry children, I'll try to offer some practical advice.

If you are currently in charge of leading/advertising a mission trip that will include interacting with malnourished children, consider the power that semantics and mindsets can have both before and during your trip. For example, instead of advertising a chance to feed children, talk about an opportunity to meet with [insert nationality] community leaders and spend a day at the neighborhood nutrition and tutoring center they created to assist street kids and latchkey families. Be sure that your team members don’t forget that the social taboos concerning stranger-child interaction at home most likely will apply on your trip too. Make sure they also understand that children aren’t puppy dogs in the pet store. Lavishing a struggling child with attention for a few days and then disappearing often does more long-term psychological damage to the child (warped understanding of love and reinforced abandonment issues) then it helps. Don’t tell a child how much you love her/him if you aren’t going to back it up with actions and a lifetime commitment! (and never tell a child that you want to take them home with you---they could hear it as a promise, and you may find it an impossible one to keep even if you were serious about your intensions to adopt her/him)

Now please don’t interpret this blog as a blanket condemnation of child-focused nutrition centers (or food banks or soup kitchens for that matter). They have their place as a stopgap measure until a sustainable solution (living wages for all) is reached. For example, my mother, a public school teacher, is active in a program in her town that provides sack lunches, books and positive social interactions for at-risk children during the summer holidays. Through this program, she interacts with many of her past and future students, encourages them in their reading habits, and fills the nutrition gap normally covered by the free/reduced school lunch program. This program is led by folks who have a holistic view of the problems faced by the children and parents living in the low-income housing sections of their town, and thus it is proactively done in a way that does not dishonor the families that allow their children to participate in it. Do you see the difference between this program and the mission trip as it was advertised?  If not, please don't give up on me yet.  These are hard conversations, and we'll keep on exploring. 

The daily ritual at the Methodist Children's Home in Kamina, DR Congo.

 *Alpha has been living at the Methodist Children's Home in Kamina for several years now.  His caretakers give him plenty of nutritious food, but his body doesn't absorb it. Local hospitals lack the diagnostic equipment to determine the cause and possible solutions.  

Author's addition:  I realized after posting this that I didn't offer any practical advice for folks who are already involved in a child sponsorship program. Since such programs vary greatly in their implementation model, I suggest by looking into your organization's approach.  Read their website and see if they talk about working alongside grassroots leadership structures. Is there any mention of the children's families? Are they working on projects that address the underlying causes of poverty? Do an internet search on criticisms of your organization and see what pops up. Prayerfully decide your next steps from there.  You might decide to stick with the organization, but if you do, please do so because you respect their methodology--not because you've been guilt tripped into thinking a specific child will go hungry without your intervention.    

Conscience Laundering and the Mission-Trip-Industrial Complex

How unclassy of me to forget to remove Evelyn's diapers before folks arrived.

Yesterday I gave my readers a thinking exercise; some of you have already submitted your responses, but I’m going to give others another day or so to chime in before I share my thoughts.

Today, I want to talk about the buzz that was all over my newsfeed this morning: Peter Buffett’s New York Time’s Op-Ed “The Charitable-Industrial Complex” (along with response pieces like this one by Diane Ravitch) If you haven’t at least read the Buffett piece, please pause for a moment and do so.

Back from reading?  Ok, so what Buffett is arguing is nothing that hasn’t been said before; it’s getting media attention because he is saying it. At the heart of his piece is the issue of ‘conscience laundering.”

As more lives and communities are destroyed by the system that creates vast amounts of wealth for the few, the more heroic it sounds to “give back.” It’s what I would call “conscience laundering” — feeling better about accumulating more than any one person could possibly need to live on by sprinkling a little around as an act of charity.

But this just keeps the existing structure of inequality in place. The rich sleep better at night, while others get just enough to keep the pot from boiling over. Nearly every time someone feels better by doing good, on the other side of the world (or street), someone else is further locked into a system that will not allow the true flourishing of his or her nature or the opportunity to live a joyful and fulfilled life.

This phenomenon of conscience laundering is just one of my frustrations with the Mission-Trip-Industrial Complex. Mission trips create the illusion of extreme do-gooding (despite often being harmful) while allowing team members to return home to their old routines washed of their guilty consciences for at least another year.  Think I’m just some lone voice in the wilderness saying there's a problem with how we do mission trips?  Think again. 

Please hear me out, though.  I don’t think there is anything inherently wrong with taking trips to see how others in this world live.  I don’t even think there is anything wrong with taking such a trip with folks from your church. Such trips can be exciting and eye-opening. I do object, however, when trips are lifted-up as being more than they really are (educational adventures) and when they damage the mental health and economy of those on the receiving end. Every time I hear someone say, “I feel like I received more than I gave on my trip!” I have to bite my tongue to keep from responding, “Yes, you did. Now what are you going to do about it?” 

So here’s my advice for those considering signing up for a mission trip:

Stop and really reflect on your motivations.  If you want to go because you’ve got an itch to learn firsthand about the world and meet people with very different life experiences, then by all means go, buy lots of souvenirs, spend loads of money at locally owned small businesses, and send me photos of your fantastic adventures. If, however, your agenda is to rescue/teach/evangelize/serve others, please stay home. Consider, instead, becoming a long-term volunteer at a do-gooding organization that works in your own town. If you find this advice baffling, keep following my blog and I'll try to unpack it one step at a time.

My very first short-term mission trip: Zaire 1995.  

Bait and Switching Do-Gooder

In my first year of undergrad I took a class titled Honors English: Subversive Thinking.  Our professor told us to call him ‘Coach.’ I hated that class, and I loathed calling that man Coach.

It wasn’t the classroom time or even the assigned readings I disliked; that part was fun. We’d dissect political speeches and magazine articles looking for logical fallacies and meaningless phrases. We read The New Doublespeak and books that discussed the disconnect between public opinion and government policies. All of this I devoured.

The painful part was the writing. Coach said we’d all gotten into his class because as teens we’d excelled in the art of generating long papers that didn’t say much of anything. This time, we had to say something thoughtful, and filler words would not be tolerated.

Coach was ruthless with my papers, calling some unfit to grade. My sense of identity and self-esteem was that of being a straight-A student. How could he suggest that my work was rubbish?!  I oscillated between anger and grief. 

Last week I blogged about my frustration with the way do-gooder fundraising campaigns are usually pitched in the USA. I talked about how they manipulate emotions by playing to our vanity and (often subliminally racist) savior complexes. I wanted all my readers to be cognizant of the game so they could make wiser decisions in how to use their money and energies.  The target of my attack wasn’t do-gooder organizations; it was the dysfunctional game that they are trapped in. If we could raise awareness of how sick the game is, then do-gooder groups would be freed from the pressures of duplicity.  No more debating whether the ends justify the means! No more treating donors like children who we have to trick into eating their vegetables! (and no, not all do-gooder groups are aware of the conspiracy—just the healthier ones) Without the pressure to bait and switch the public, we could pull back the curtain on the messy realities of do-gooder work and start healthy public explorations of what methods are fruitful.

Speaking of ‘bait & switch,’ an old friend e-mailed me after my last post and suggested that this was too harsh of a term. Couldn’t I find a softer way of saying it? She shared her personal experience of how ‘incredibly unpleasant’ it had been when I had shared with her my critiques of child sponsorship programs, since she has made considerable contributions to one. While the logical pragmatic part of her brain could clearly recognize that what I wrote made sense, it was still painful to process—even coming from a friend.  Perhaps if I used gentler words more people would be receptive to what I have to say, she suggested.  I responded that I saw the process like ripping off a bandaid, and after over a decade (arguably two decades) of me trying to coax people to reflect on their mission models, I just want to RIP THE DARN THING OFF.

This, in case you’ve been wondering, is how I got to thinking about Coach. He took the rip-the-bandaid approach, and at the time I hated him for it. It hurt to realize that my writing wasn’t wonderful (looking back, it really was rubbish). It was agony to see all those red marks on the page. And yet, now I’m grateful that I went through the experience--that he saw my potential and pushed me to go further. While I’ll probably never be an award-winning writer, barely a day goes by that I don’t apply what I learned in that class.

So, if you want to say I’m full of it and don’t have the right to presume to be your coach in the world of do-gooding, I get it. You’ve probably been do-gooding since childhood.  Who am I to question your methods or motives?

Nevertheless, I do request that you stick with my team at Friendly Planet Missiology and join the conversation as we wrestle with these issues.  Who knows?  Perhaps someday you will be begrudgingly glad that you did. 

 

Taylor