Purity

I’ll be vulnerable and confess up front that I really, really dislike professional sports.

I won’t belabor the point, except to say that I see as plain immoral the amount of money being paid to someone for something no more meaningful than being really good a tossing a ball through a basket while people in the same city go hungry and queue up to apply for minimum wage jobs.

Or the amount of money being paid to someone for riding a bicycle really well.

It was pretty hard to miss the drama around Lance Armstrong’s fall from public grace last week. In the end it was precipitous and sweeping. Stripped of past trophies, all but forced to resign from a cancer charity that he started, loss of title. Even the very real possibility that he’ll have to pay back actual cash earned through winnings and endorsements. Not to mention an internet full of emotive angst and moral outrage among faithful fans who expected better of him.

I find very curious the lengths to which particularly American audiences will go to insist on “purity” in professional sports. If find it curious that this supposed purity matters in the context of an industry so full of insider backstabbing, egoism, scandal, abuses of all kinds and just plain drama. But that notion of purity is important.

We allow our impression of an athlete or a sport or a team to be tainted by irrelevant things, while at the same time constructing for ourselves illogical narratives which reinforce the messaging coming out of sports industry PR machines. We believe in this notion of purity in professional sport in the face of repeated evidence to the contrary quite simply because we want it to be true. We need to cling to the belief professional baseball or hockey remains pure – that athletes really do what they do without performance enhancing substances.

For rock ‘n’ roll stars, drug use is de rigueur. Maybe if Lance had been a guitarist instead of a cyclist…

he should have just been a rock star

I think there’s a wake up call in here for humanitarian NGOs. We need to see this as a wake-up call about what happens when public perception goes up in flames

There is no point in denying that there are competing narratives about what is “real” in the world of international relief and development and philanthropy. Without banging on about which parts of which narratives I personally think are really real, I’ll simply say that we will someday come to the point beyond which it will be no longer possible to separate those competing narratives. There will come a time when our constituents will collectively demand an explanation for why we said one thing and did something else. And if we’re to really learn the lesson of Lance Armstrong, we need to understand that it will be very public and very much into the weeds of detail. We’ve seen what happens when someone the public thought was “pure” turns out not to be.

And in the end it will not matter whether so-called “purity” makes any sense in the real world or not. In the end we’ll be stripped of our awards and our credentials, forced to pay back donors, not because we didn’t do good work, not because we can’t show impact. Remember, Lance won a lot of races; the drugs very clearly worked for him. No, this will all happen because we allowed and in some cases enabled people to create a narrative about who we are and what we do that does not align with reality.

Possibly related:

Meaningless Fractions

This is a guest post by AidSource member Fredrick – he’s not an aid worker himself, but rather the partner of an aid worker, and so offers an interesting perspective on our world. Fredrick has written for us before in the Work & Life section of AidSource.

Today he shares his thoughts, as a true expert, on the meaningless fractions that aid agencies like to use in their marketing and publicity materials.

* * * * *

Aid Agencies and Meaningless Fractions

Since becoming a partner of an emergency aid worker I have spent quite a lot of time learning about the different organisations. This entails looking at their web sites. You learn a bit from this. One of the things is that they seem to compete over who spends the largest fraction on humanitarian activities, programs or whatever they call it. So CARE is happy to report that more than 91% all resources go directly to programs. Save The Children, for example, use 90% of all expenditures on program services. Oxfam UK reports 83% used on aid, development and campaigning. Medecins Sans Frontieres is happy to report that they use more than 80% on direct humanitarian services. Oxfam America, clearly the laggard, uses slightly less than 80% on program services.

All these NGOs report that the rest is used on administration and fund raising. The main point it seems is to demonstrate that the fraction of income spent on administration is low and this should somehow be indicative of the agencies’ efficiency.

I happen to be a bit of an expert on efficiency and the measurement of productivity, so I know what numbers are important and what numbers are not. And the fractions happily reported by all these aid agencies are totally meaningless as indicators of anything beyond their definition. What any person who knows a little bit about productivity measurements will tell you is that you have to relate the amount of outputs to inputs. The numbers reported by aid agencies relate, in a manner that is quite arbitrary, the fraction of costs of a particular input to total cost of inputs. It is like a farmer bragging about using as much as 90% of the total of cost running a farm on fertilizer and only 10% on seeds. Who cares? What you should care about is how much the farmer produces for a given cost.

This really had me stumped. So I asked a few people who work for aid agencies about why these numbers are reported and if they thought that they carried any valuable information.

The answers were quite depressing. The numbers were acknowledged to be meaningless. But it looks good for potential donors that a large fraction of their money isn’t “wasted” on administration, so the numbers are basically reproduced for marketing purposes. Whether aid agencies know that these numbers are meaningless and just report them in order to fool donors or they actually think that these numbers is a measure of efficiency I have no idea and I really don’t care. Corporations fib in their advertising all the time and are often clueless about what they are doing and there is no reason why professional aid agencies should be different. But the question is whether this practice does any harm. I believe it does.

Administrative support is an input like any other.

If aid agencies compete over making this cost as low as possible relative to total costs, it does not take a genius to see that this can result in too little support from an understaffed and underpaid head office. Further, the practice provides incentive to transfer tasks better executed centrally to individual programs.

I’ll provide what I think is an example. Many aid agencies have a group of experienced aid workers employed centrally. These aid workers are supposed to be first responders or augment local staff in programs when programs must be rapidly scaled up, i.e. in extraordinary situations (like disasters). I have been told that there has been a shift in how these employees are treated. Where they previously were given substantial breathers when they we’re not needed, they are now sent to work for programs on tasks of a much less critical nature. I have no proof of intention, but one effect is that these workers spend longer periods being paid for by programs and less time being paid for by the head office. Thereby they shave a couple of percentage decimals of what is considered administrative costs and inflate the fraction of costs that is charged to programs.

Great! Mission accomplished for some clever accountant somewhere. This does however mean that these aid workers get less time for recovery and professional development, which will surely diminish their efficiency over time or induce them to find a different job.

To be fair, it is possible that better measures are hard to compute, possibly for lack of resources. Also, it is possible that these numbers, although in themselves meaningless, send a signal about the frugality of the aid agencies. Even if this is true, it does not validate the use of measures with no informational value. It is a very general rule that if you establish silly criteria for success you get suboptimal outcomes. On top of this, it is a dubious strategy to base your marketing on the stupidity of you donors. At some point they will catch on and you end up looking silly.

Times, they are a-changin’

There’s a good chance that unless you’ve been intentionally following what has come to be affectionately known in some circles as Three-Cups-of-Tea-gate, you missed this update on the KPLU website (KPLU is a local NPR affiliate based in Seattle, WA):

‘Three Cups of Tea’ and ‘deceit’ has international aid in hot spotlight.

It’s not a long article, but for those not motivated to click the link and read all of it, basically it is a short update on the status of the civil lawsuit being brought against Greg Mortenson, his co-author David Relin, the Penguin Group, and the Central Asia Institute. The language of the accusation is particularly telling: the defendants (Mortenson, Relin, Penguin and CAI) are being accused of fraud and racketeering.  At the same time the States Attorney for the state of Montana is pursuing a full investigation of the Central Asia Institute to see whether it broke state laws which govern the actions of non-profit organizations there.

Much is made in the article of the similarities between Mortenson and James Frey who was convicted of fraud and forced to pay reparations after admitting on the Oprah Winfrey show that he’d lied in what was marketed as his memoir, A Million Little Pieces. And predictably, Mortenson’s attorneys want the civil suit against him thrown out because,

“Plaintiffs should not be allowed to create a world where authors are exposed to the debilitating expense of class action litigation just because someone believes a book contains inaccuracies,”

I’m no attorney myself and so cannot really have more than a layperson’s perspective on the legalities at play here. But it seems to me that this is both representative of a now almost complete shift in public perception of aid organizations and aid workers, and also a portent of tougher times headed for the aid industry. Regardless of one’s personal perspective on Greg Mortenson and Three Cups of Tea and the Central Asia Institute, and even if this particular lawsuit is lost, we are now living in a time when donors can and will take us to court if they can make the case that we painted a picture in our marketing and PR which did not convey reality.

Those of you who work for an NGO that markets or fundraises in the United States, take a close look at your employer’s fundraising material and ask yourself how it makes you feel, knowing what you know about the real world of implementing humanitarian relief and development in the field. I don’t mean to say that the house of cards will come crashing down tomorrow. But the sea has changed.

We’re working in a strange, new time.

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