we like to be needed
When it comes to international charity work, we like to be needed
My first international development role was in China. A large international NGO hired me to work as an advisor at the age of 29. I was to advise national government partners on how orphanages should integrate children with disabilities into their care — no small task.
I had my own chauffeur. I was given a three-bedroom apartment all to myself, something I had never experienced in my wildly expensive hometown of Sydney. And another first — for the first time in my life, my apartment was spotless. That’s because cleaning duties were no longer discharged to me, but to my own dedicated cleaner. I had a local counterpart who was on paper a project manager, but in practice spent most of his time acting as a translator for me.
In meetings with the government, I was referred to as “Professor” and was often introduced as, “One of the finest physiotherapists in the world, under the age of 30.”
The reality was that while studying at university, I rarely reached higher than a credit, and that the major achievement of my actual two-year physiotherapy career was the slow recognition that I wasn’t a very good physiotherapist.
I was born in Australia, where the culture values downplaying your own importance and status. The first time my colleagues called me “Professor”, my instinct was to correct them.
“Oh no, I’m not a professor, I wasn’t even a good student!”
But soon, another line of thinking entered my mind. Despite us somehow engaging a high level of government, our government counterparts didn’t seem to respect foreign ideas. How dare they! I had given up a year of my life to work in China and I was really trying to help those poor children in those orphanages.
Respecting the agency of Chinese leadership was the last thing on my mind. One little white lie about my expertise wouldn’t hurt.
After a few weeks, I stopped correcting my colleagues. Overnight, I graduated from a below average physiotherapist to one of the finest physiotherapy professors in the world. I’m positive that this strategy occurs regularly in the charity world.
Foreign ‘experts’ with little expertise and virtually no understanding of poverty over inflate their credentials to push their ideas onto local partners.
Before leaving Australia for China, I had been inoculated against hepatitis B, and I stayed away from mosquitos for fear of catching dengue fever. But I soon realised that I was at risk of an even greater menace. I was at risk of believing my own bullshit.
Over-inflating my own expertise happens because it’s nice to feel important. It’s nice to be needed.
But the problem with this attitude is that it rarely leads to local leadership taking control of their own situations.
In order to really allow others to take charge, we need to adopt a mindset of redundancy. This is what Redundant Charities do.
So how do Redundant Charities achieve this? I interviewed a number of charities around the world making this change, and you can find out via pre-ordering your copy here (if you live in Australia), or downloading a free sample prior to the international release here.