This statistic takes our breath away. It should.
This statistic has also spurred many young Americans to take steps to end global poverty. These steps have taken many forms: mission trips, orphanage tours, donating used clothing, and buying a pair of TOMS shoes.
Some have been effective; a lot have not.
How is this possible? Weren’t we the generation that was supposed to end global poverty?
We were. But we won’t. Here’s why:
Smoke billows from an Oldsmobile as it idles at the stop light. Rust populates the fender, the muffler is held up by a wire hanger, and the protective plastic strip along the driver’s side door is popped out. Another car pulls up. Daylight dances on the chrome and the paint glistens. In the Olds, a little kid in the backseat presses his face against the small portal hole of a window to take a closer look. With an effortless touch of a button, the shiny car’s window smoothly opens. A woman appears and begins pointing her finger at the Olds. The driver of the Olds grips his window’s handle crank and muscles it down. “Excuse me” she says. “Did you know that your car is smoking?” Before an answer is given, the little kid turns his attention towards me. His eyes are full of fire. “You have no right!” he hisses.
With those words, my eyes popped open. I was three days into the Two Dollar Challenge. I had been limiting my income to $2 a day, sleeping in a make-shift shelter with my students for the past two nights, and adhering to a number of other rules meant to assist us in gaining a deeper understanding of the economic lives of the poor.
I remember the first time I was called the “S” word. I was on the phone with Ashoka and the voice on the other end of the line said “You’re a social entrepreneur!” I was unaware of social entrepreneurship at the time. So, I did some research, bought David Bornstein’s book “How to Change the World” and read a chapter each night before going to bed. It was an inspiring read. And, even though it makes me blush a bit, I think its fair to say that I do share some of the traits of a social entrepreneur. Yet, I do not look in a mirror and see one looking back. I do not use the title in my Linkedin profile. And, I do not use #socent for twitter. Not sure what I am waiting for. I take that back. I do know. I am waiting for a distinction to be made.
A world without poverty has been predicted to arrive by 2035. This is a cause for celebration. However, is it also a cause for consternation?
Surprisingly, yes.
A lot of us need poor people. Here are just a few of the ways:
o Without someone to ladle soup for, how will we teach our children about gratitude?
o Without a family to adopt during the holidays, how will we assuage our guilt for having it so good?
o Without community service opportunities, how will teenagers pad their college applications?
Monetize. Monetize. Monetize. In every break-out room, session, and social gathering I heard this chant over and over again. In the pool, on the beach, and under a palm tree, I could not turn around without bumping into a social entrepreneur committed to ending poverty. Whether it was over $10 drinks or while choosing from one of the five different cheesecakes, the path to success was impressed upon me: monetize. Stop giving things away, charge a price, reach scale, pursue financial sustainability and pull people out of poverty as you make a profit.
Social entrepreneurs are a unique species. It was my first time being in their habitat. It was a nice one: ocean views, wide beaches and high walls to keep out the locals. There was archery, kayaking, and rock climbing. We arrived under cover of night in buses with tinted windows. Hot hand towels from the hotel staff awaited us upon arrival. I woke the next morning to walk the compound and observe them in their natural setting. It may have been mating season. I don’t know. But, their feathers were unfurled and on full display.
I care about the environment. I also drive a truck that only gets 19 miles per gallon (on the highway). It all makes me feel conflicted. So, I greenwash my life. I only drive to work two days a week. And, when I am home, I ride my mountain bike around the streets of Richmond. Well, except when the temperature dips below 40 degrees Fahrenheit. On those occasions, I drive. There are few things more uncomfortable than cold air tightly channeled through a bike helmet impacting a head that lacks natural insulation. I use a reel lawnmower. I do not use power tools. I use hand clippers, a rake and a broom. I compost. I landscape with native shrubs and trees. Indeed, I have a native wildflower garden that runs the length of my backyard. I use a drip irrigation system. I do not use Round Up or any other chemicals in my yard. I use the plastic bags in which my sprouted bread from Trader Joe’s is packaged to pick up dog poop. Indeed, the National Wildlife Federation certified my backyard as a Wildlife Habitat! Who cares if we had to pay $45 for the plague? And, instead of using paper cups, I always bring my insulated mug to buy my coffee from Starbucks. Well, almost always. There are times when I forget. But, if I ever do, I make sure to take off the cardboard sleeve before trashing it. I carry it all the way home to recycle it. So, taking all of this green-inspired activity together, I think it fair to say that my truck gets at least 30 miles per gallon, at least.
Over the years, I have had the opportunity to sit through my fair share of pumping-people-up-about-poverty speeches. As an aspiring public speaker, I have often wondered whether or not I have what it takes to give a speech like this. They usually, but not always, have four parts.
A good one usually starts off with an inspiring Founder’s Story. I have one of those. I can talk about Honduras and the Nutrition Center for orphaned and abandoned kids. I can talk about how the kids were so malnourished and undersized that when I held them in my arms I could not tell their age. I can talk about how a once-dormant personal passion for social justice was awakened by those kids. Yet, if I talk about these things, then I would feel obligated to also talk about how all my efforts to alleviate poverty since that time have in no way made the lives of those kids any better. Indeed, I would have to tell them that most of the benefits of my poverty-fighting career have been captured by me. And, looking back, I would have to tell them that the thought of a strange man visiting, playing and feeding kids at an orphanage is disturbing, not inspiring.
If you ever want to derail a conversation about poverty and the poor, you only need to accuse someone of being paternalistic. Merrian-Webster defines paternalism as “the attitude or actions of a person, organization, ect., that protects people and gives them what they need but does not give them any responsibility or freedom of choice.” Not a very flattering definition. It seems that paternalism has an image problem. Is it deserved?
Le’s turn to Do-Goodernomics to find out.
In any market, before a transaction can be completed, two questions are asked. The seller asks “Will I get paid?” And, the buyer asks “Will I get what I paid for?” Both need to answer “Yes.” Getting to “Yes” and “Yes” in any market can be a challenge. In the market for good, it is downright difficult.
As a do-gooder, with your goal of moving as many people out of poverty as possible with your $100, you are a buyer in this market. The poor mother of two who has promised to use your $100 to send her two kids to school is a seller. Earlier you negotiated the following terms of trade: 3 hugs, many smiles, 1 kiss on the cheek, and a promise to send her kids to school in exchange for your $100. However, before exchanging the envelope full of cash, you each ask your respective questions:
Given that your $100 is transferred immediately, she can easily answer “Yes.” Her hugs, smiles and kisses may follow shortly after receiving your $100; however, when it comes to delivering on her promise to send her kids to school, there is a delay. It could be a day, week, month or year. It really does not matter. Any delay, can keep you from saying “Yes.” And, it should.
As the van inches along a washboard road, you peer through its tinted windows and stare at the many faces looking back without showing yours. Kids are playing soccer, most of the men are away at work, and everyone else is busy with the business of life. They are washing clothes in the creek that bisects the community, collecting and carrying bundles of wood, bathing in buckets of water, and preparing for the next and maybe the first and only meal of the day.
The van comes to a stop. You get out and open your backpack to do a quick inventory: water bottle, cell phone, camera, and hand sanitizer. You take your scheduled does of Malarone. And, double-fisting two aerosol cans, you envelope yourself in a cloud of SPF 50+ sunscreen and Deep Woods Insect Repellent. Stepping out of the mist you re-tie your hiking boots, put on your sunglasses and adjust your wide brimmed hat. You are ready to negotiate. You are ready to create a market for good.
You begin trekking towards the tower that carries electricity over but not into the community. The reply to your personal ad looking for a poor person indicated that she lived in the second row, three houses down from the tower. Your driver/interpreter struggles to keep pace with you.
Like every other market, the market for good has two sides. On one side you have do-gooders. And, on the other side you have those in need of some good. In an earlier post, we briefly outlined the three steps in creating a market for good. In this installment of Do-Goodernomics, we focus on step one: finding a poor person. Remember, you are a do-gooder. Your goal is to move as many people out of poverty as possible. You have $100. And, you must give it directly to one person.
How do you begin your search?
You can do what most people in search of other people do and publish a personal ad.
“Financially secure do-gooder in search of a poor person. If interested, please respond with your name, address and an answer to the following question: How would you use $100? Feel free to leave a brief comment.”
Let’s say you receive responses from around the world and create an excel sheet. Thinking that you may share your database with others, you substitute “Poor Person” for each respondent’s name and use a regional location for their address.
How do you begin to screen the respondents?