Something is better than nothing
A man on a wheelchair. Credit: Wikimedia
“Well, you know. Something is better than nothing, right?”
This is the fundamental attitude of many non-profits and wellmeaning volunteers entering poorer countries. It’s the default argument for providing something, even if the end goal isn’t ever apparent.
In 2013, after just arriving in Cambodia, I was in contact with an American company that helps connect busy professionals to volunteering opportunities across the world. According to their website, the founder of the company once lamented that there were no volunteering opportunities globally that would let her volunteer for one week — they all required a longer commitment.
I stumbled on the company after discovering that children with disabilities in rural Cambodia had been supplied wheelchairs by travelling volunteers. The design of the wheelchairs had been deliberately simplified so that they could be assembled by their American volunteers in a fly-in fly-out visit to Cambodia. These volunteers paid over a thousand dollars for a one week trip to Cambodia to assemble and gift these wheelchairs in “wheelchair parties”.
The first thing I noticed about these wheelchairs was that they were adult sized. But, in communication with the founder, she was insistent that the recipients of these wheelchairs had to be children, since the volunteers found working with children more gratifying.
Putting my physio hat on, there were inherent issues with the design. The seat was essentially an adult sized chair — think of a cheap $10 plastic chair from your local hardware store — that would not fit many children below adolescence. These children often had muscular weakness and couldn’t sit independently, so they needed more supportive seating, not rigid plastic adult-sized chairs.
Beyond being uncomfortable, it could pose a safety risk if they were to fall out of the chair and injure themselves.
Putting my charity hat on, as the wheelchairs were made with foreign parts and assembled by foreign people, the chairs would be almost impossible for local people to fix. The wheelchairs were also brittle, and as they were made of cheap plastic, they couldn’t handle the bumpy roads in Cambodia and would often break.
Besides which, the whole concept of a Western company, which makes money out of voluntourism opportunities, trying to find people to retrofit their solution to already feels unethical.
I reached out to the founder of this company and suggested another alternative — have the volunteers purchase locally made and sourced wheelchairs instead. She insisted that if they could have a hand in assembling these wheelchairs, it would really help to “light a fire” under the volunteers. The founder made a point that she was open to any opportunities that *nonskilled* (emphasis hers) volunteers could be part of.
Regardless of the suitability of the wheelchair design to local people, it appeared that the needs of American volunteers were more important.
The notion that “something is better than nothing” is pervasive in international charity work. It’s why speech therapists trained in Australia, with no development experience, Cambodian language knowledge or understanding of Cambodian culture and history, can fly from Australia to Cambodia to perform speech therapy in a Cambodian village.
It’s why white volunteers can walk into an orphanage full of vulnerable children, without so much as a child protection check, and hug them. Physically touch them, without a shred of doubt.
It’s why non-profits can spend millions of dollars sending substandard equipment overseas, equipment that is falling apart and unable to be repaired in-country because the parts or knowledge to do so do not exist locally.
The “something is better than nothing” mentality allows us to drop our standards to a level that wouldn’t be acceptable anywhere else.
We focus on quantitative outputs, known as vanity metrics in other industries, because it suits this style of work. It allows us to say, “Because of us, 100 children received wheelchairs from us last year!”
And when someone dares to ask the most important questions like, “But even if 100 children received wheelchairs, were they using them one year later?” the answer is,
