The Downfalls of Student Activism

A few months ago, I walked into Tsai only to be greeted by an entourage of people asking me for donations. There’s a word in Chinese that perfectly describes this situation—道德绑架 (dào dé bǎng jià), or “moral kidnapping.” You feel as if denying them the 10 or so dollars they’re asking for is a denial of homelessness or animal welfare (or whatever the money went to) as a key issue; in a way, denying them the money is denying your moral character. This, paired with the fact that you might know the person asking you for money, creates a scenario where there is only one option that doesn’t end in awkwardness—giving them the 10 bucks in exchange for a Rice Krispie. At least the money is going to a good cause, I often say to myself after giving into the “moral kidnapping.” However, our love for bake sale fundraisers and minority heritage months may not benefit the world in the ways we think they do. Enacting real societal progress requires both money and broad awareness, but our urge to donate a buck or two and our need to have one (and only one) month to celebrate minorities allow a sense of complacency to creep in.

Our limited attempts at creating change have their downfalls. Of course, donating is one of the easiest and most effective ways to help causes; however, whenever money is involved, it’s important to ensure the money you spend will do the maximum amount of good. When going to Costco, we often buy items in bulk such that the price of a single unit is lower. The same logic should, in theory, apply to charities. We should make sure that the price of a single unit of “helping the world” is lower, so your money can purchase more units of “helping the world.”

Do you really know where the money you donate at Tsai goes? How large is the organization? What’s the track record of this charity? How effective will they be with the money? How will they spend my money? These are the questions we should be asking, yet we never truly ask. Even large charities with high profile names are known to have a stained track record. The American Red Cross famously embezzled funds and lied about the results of their work; after a 7.0 magnitude earthquake hit the country of Haiti in 2010, a ProPublica and NPR investigation found evidence of disabled Haitians forced to sleep in their wheelchairs and emergency vehicles used by the Red Cross as “props at press events.” The Humane Society of the United States has faced endless controversy over their misappropriation of funds while misleading donors. When donating to charities, ask yourself, how do I know the charities I give to are using my money in the best possible way?

The answer is only a quick Google search away. Many well-known charities do life-changing work around the world, such as Partners in Health, the Helen Keller Foundation, and Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders). Though I’m certain that our donations are helping the world, our good intentions could have a bigger influence if we simply ask whether these resources will serve their maximum potential.

Through websites like GiveWell and movements like Effective Altruism (EA), people are thinking a little bit more about who they donate their money to. As Ezra Klein penned in an article for The New York Times, “Plenty of charities sound great to donors, but their programs are never studied, and when they are, the benefits often disappoint.” Movements like EA, started by philosopher William MacAskill, focus on charities whose “work is backed by unusually high-quality studies showing that they save lives and prevent illness at lower costs than pretty much anything else we know of.”

Beyond donations, Lawrenceville (and the rest of the world) prides itself in celebrating heritage months. There seems to be a heritage month for every minority under the sun. For each heritage month, there is an event with a speaker and, perhaps, some ethnically diverse food at Tsai—that’s about it. Outside of Lawrenceville, things aren’t that much better; perhaps a big corporation might attempt a statement marginally better than the School’s. 

The intention of a heritage month—celebrating a group’s culture and background while recognizing the discrimination they face—is great, but these efforts do not solve systemic issues. Systemic discrimination is what truly causes inequality, and fighting it takes systemic solutions instead of a fleeting annual event. Heritage months only serve their purpose if they prompt people to act.

The “good deeds” we do on this campus often unintentionally create a savior complex while simplifying complex issues. Donations and heritage months inflate our own conception of how our actions permanently alter the world while, in far too many cases, they don’t. Ironically, these misperceptions lead us to underestimating the severity and importance of the issue we thought we lent a hand in solving: deep down, we wonder if these problems are as grave as we thought they were. If a month, a year, or a few bucks allows me to lend victims of this issue a helping hand, how hard could solving it be?

On the other hand, heritage months allow us to gratify ourselves by learning about minorities who have been continuously ignored. We feel good, maybe a bit too good, about the new-found awareness we’re giving. We begin to ask ourselves, if AAPI Heritage Month is all that we need, is racism towards AAPI individuals a big problem? However, can we package immense problems into just a month of attention?

Can Asian American and Pacific Islander history be condensed in a month? No. Can LGBTQIA+ literature be condensed in a month? No. Can African American culture be condensed in a month? No. Can Latinx heritage be condensed in a month? No. Why must we pretend as if all of that is possible? A heritage month creates three dangerous assumptions: firstly, the suffering and background of a single minority can be condensed in a month; second, every other month in a non-minority month; and third, focusing on that minority for a month and only a month is enough.

When we feel like we’ve donated enough of our time and money to a certain issue, we perceive our fair share as “done”; comfortable with doing no more good, we shift our attention to something else. Complacent, we might not ever donate again unless prompted by someone to do so. We don’t participate in local or national politics to push for policy change.

We must expand our definitions of ethical global citizens: While still continuing to donate and celebrate heritage months thoughtfully, we must understand, on a deeper level, how our actions are contributing to the solution. Furthermore, we cannot ever grow complacent or smug from our willingness to help, nor should we ever expect anything in return for our continued fighting. Large-scale societal issues are complicated to both understand and solve: Read the news, donate regularly, and vote in elections, but never stop at just these efforts. 

While actual change is created by committed individuals fighting continuously for systemic solutions and committing to real-life actions, student donations and heritage months make us complacent.

Once you step outside the gates of Lawrenceville, there will no longer be urgent and needed speeches about inequality forced upon you, nor will there be a reward for donations (I’m fairly certain that by donating to the Malaria Consortium, I won’t be given a rice crispy). Once we are hit with the indifference of society towards those who care to help, would we still be willing to give, listen, and fight?