With his sister recently returned from Kenya, Liam Taylor asks if our good intentions actually do more harm to fragile nations around the world.
Where is Bongo Bongo Land? I hadn’t come across the phrase until I saw it plastered across the headlines after the controversial MEP Godfrey Bloom used it in his speech/rant (delete as appropriate) on foreign aid. The use of the phrase sparked controversy apparently everywhere bar his constituency, and led to a situation, then exacerbated by his stubborn defence of his remarks on the BBC, which culminated in an offer to personally apologise to the ambassador of Bongo Bongo Land himself (who unfortunately could not be reached for comment).
I guess he was unable to use the excuse that he was merely referring to the late President Bongo of Gabon, as a former Tory MP claimed when he used the phrase the last time it caused controversy, and figured that was next best option. I leave it up to you dear reader to decide whether the comments were racist or not. This article is concerned with the heart of the issue, not the semantics.
Not long after the media flurry surrounding the controversy died down my sister returned home after a summer of charity work in Kenya, a country I suspect some would consider a province of Bongo Bongo Land. The problems that the media back home deems worthy of making a fuss about, the occasional daft utterance from a politician seemed rather trivial to her, at least compared to the real problems faced in the less fortunate parts of the world. It is no secret that Kenya is by no means a rich country, to put it mildly. It receives over two billion dollars each year in foreign aid and is the second largest recipient of US aid to Africa, behind only Egypt. Like many countries in the region it has also been plagued with corruption.
Kenya can seem like two completely different lands. The westernised boarding school in Nairobi that my sister stayed at on her first night could be indistinguishable from anywhere in England save for the rather nicer weather. Yet other parts conform more to the stereotype of popular culture. A land of mud huts and endless savannah, where basic necessities like running water are luxuries and old plastic bottles are considered a sturdy construction material. In Nairobi itself this difference is perhaps even more glaring, where modern skyscrapers and office blocks stand side by side with hastily built shacks made from salvaged scrap. Indeed that kind of contrast is far from uncommon in the region. When I was in South Africa a few years ago (for the much less noble reason of a holiday) there was a stark difference between the westernised tourist areas and the slums on the outskirts of the city.
In a way it helps to put things in perspective. It’s easy to forget how good we have it in the grand scheme of things, how protestors in New York or outside St. Paul’s are part of the wealthiest one per cent in the world and how even the poorest in this country are comfortably in the top ten per cent. Many of the villages rely on subsistence farming, lacking the convenience of modern technology they rely on their own back breaking labour. In one village that my sister spent time helping in, a single mother of five had to single-handedly toil on a maize field all day just to grow enough food to survive. Yet even donations of modern equipment do little help; a tractor is of little use without the parts or know-how to fix it when it breaks, or even how to use it in the first place. Indeed the most advanced piece of technology my sister came across out there was an old toaster. Growth away from subsistence is not done any favours by the western world’s insistent protection of its own farmers from foreign goods.
When my sister first told me she was going off to do charity work in Kenya a couple of thoughts crossed my mind. The first was the most obvious, that this was a really good thing to do. But I have to admit there was also a cynical part of my brain that thought “how much help can you really be? After all, what do you know about digging wells or building schools? The closest you’ve come to hard labour is helping our parents with the gardening. Surely it would be better to send them the money you’re going to spend on flying out and living there?” While it sounds bad there was some logic behind this thought. After all it is a common problem after natural disasters that lots of well-intentioned volunteers show up unprepared and without any training. The result being that actual charity workers have to waste time babysitting them, instead of helping the victims, and waste precious resources feeding them and patching them up when they hurt themselves. There was also an element of concern that she might get eaten by a lion when she tries to pet one. Although I’m glad to say that the cynical side of me was wrong.
Empathy, the desire to help others less fortunate than ourselves, is of course very commendable and it is one that nearly every person has no matter their beliefs or where they lie on the political spectrum, if anywhere at all. Of course not everyone can go out to Africa and physically help, so this empathy manifests itself in other ways such as charitable giving. But sometimes that cynical part of us raises its head, “what good can my tenner a month do?” So that same feeling of empathy makes us demand that more be done, that government fixes it. We rely on the ‘wisdom’ of the bureaucrat in Whitehall rather than the experience of the volunteer on the ground. It feels good to be absolved of responsibility, we did our part and if it’s not working it’s not our fault, it’s the government’s fault. It’s the government that isn’t doing enough, isn’t giving enough and can never give enough.
Remember earlier when I talked about the vast divergence between the richest and poorest parts of Kenya? Just why is there the gap? Is it an inevitable part of development? Is it because there still is not enough aid? If so, how is it that Asia has managed to lift millions out of poverty without a penny of aid? $2 billion can a build a lot of schools and hospitals, yet they are conspicuously absent. Perhaps you also remember the rampant corruption I mentioned. Well put the two together and perhaps you start to realise how it’s possible that after decades of receiving billions in aid the average Kenyan hasn’t become any better off. Kenyan corruption may be bad, but it is small comfort that it is not as bad as other parts of Africa. Indeed one prominent Zambian economist argues strongly that the corruption is so bad that the corruption (amongst other things) actually makes aid harmful to African countries. It may be possible that handing over large sums of money no questions asked can create the conditions that fuel corruption, sort of like the way vast natural resources can become a curse for poor countries.
All the arguments for greater aid have at their heart the best of intentions, just like the well intentioned clothing drive that has a minor side effect of putting the indigenous clothing and textile industry out of business and inadvertently costing lots of jobs. There is an old saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. So perhaps it’s time to rethink our approach to help those that need it most. To stop focusing on intentions and start looking at results.
Liam Taylor
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