Street giving

Note: What follows is an anecdote of no particular value.


A few days after my minor moral epiphany, I went down Heidelberg's most significant street to search for a relevant book or two.  Walking back, I was distracted by weighing up whether Die Kunst kein Egoist zu sein ('The art of not being an egoist') is morally worth €19.99 in its hardback glory, not to mention its even greater cost in terms of the time it would take my German to falter through its 500 or so pages.  Consequently, I failed to avoid the eye of the UNO volunteer standing in front of a life-sized picture of Angelina Jolie doing something good.

When he greeted me with a cheery 'Hallo!  Can I tell you about what we're doing?' the part of my brain that controls expressions and responses took that question at face value and agreed, completely ignoring the screams every other part of my brain that has any insight whatsoever.

Quite quickly it became clear this wasn't a great idea.  My passive German is passable in conversation, but my active German remains frequently inaccessible.  And he seemed to want more participation than initially suggested.  I played down my abilities and played up my foreignness, but to little avail.  In what was presumably meant to be a moment of bonding, he joined in my self-deprecation, giggling 'You don't have an accent at all!  Wur-duh, aah-bur...!'.  I smiled grumpily.

It continued.  'Tell me about what you do!' he said, adding 'I'm interested!' upon seeing my hesitant, you-aren't-interested look.  So I told him.  To his credit, he did better at appearing interested than I would have done, but it wasn't easy to relate to the UN so we moved on.

He told me about what work the UN are doing with refugees, specifically focussing on a country whose name begins with 'L' (I don't remember which, but I'd guess 'Libya').  I'd set the expectations of my understanding low, so he also asked if I knew what he meant quite a lot.  Inconveniently, I mostly did.
As the conversation progressed, it became increasingly clear that he wanted me to sign up to give money.  The screaming, insightful part of my brain continued screaming, but now with a certain smugness, while the bit that had got me into this social mess just shrugged.  I didn't want to sign up.  I had not the slightest intention of agreeing to a lot of German things I don't understand and providing financial commitment to a person I don't fully trust, even if it were all to be carried out under the banner of Angelina Jolie.  I wanted to think, to become informed, and yes, in the end, to act - but in a considered manner.  In a manner, that is, that will not leave me walking off in abject, paranoid terror that I've just given financial details to a stranger on the street, and I might now have to deal with complex German forms; a feeling so unpleasant that my desire to do good would immediately be pounded into apologetic submission by my swearing, self-loathing selfishness.

So I asked if I could sign up on the internet.  If I could take some time and think about it.  He ignored this question, or at least responded only with a wordless gesture of dismissal delivered with the well-placed skepticism of someone who knew I wouldn't be back, and who (understandably) supposed I wouldn't really think about it.  'You know the refugees are there, and they need help... What else is there to think about?!' he asked, clothing his question in a rhetorical garb it hadn't earned.

And, alas, this did mildly infuriate me.  For, were I to be in control of my faculties, I might have answered, 'Yes, I do know this.  And I would like to know more.  But I also know that they are not the only people in the world who need help.  And I know yours is not the only organisation offering help.  Nor is it necessarily the most efficient or effective or in need, nor am I sure that you are not on commission for getting people to sign up and that's why you're so unhappy with my promise of consideration, nor have I figured out whether simply signing up here and now to give away money is the best form of help I might offer.  Should we perhaps instead help the several homeless people at the head of the street, for example?  They are there too, and need help, and we both know it.  So don't over-simplify, and let me think!  Argh!!!'  Knowing what is the right thing to do is hard.


I didn't say any of that, and instead clumsily fumbled my way out of the conversation.  And he did something for that poor that day, while I did bugger all.

But I did think about it, like I said I would.  And I'm still thinking about it.  I hope that he would be pleased with that outcome.

Although the most specific part of that thinking has let to the conclusion that, while I am increasingly convinced that there is a moral imperative to give, I have objections to accosting people on the street as a method to solicit that.  If it works, and leads to more money going to good things, then I guess my objections are not up to much.  But I find it hard to believe it's the best way to do it, and suspect it makes many charities merely appear more irritating.  Personally at least, I'd have felt much more well-disposed to him and to the organisation if they were offering information, possibly to take away even if only in the form of a cheaply scribbled web address, and not exerting pressure to commit then and only then.  In fact, if charity-workers on the street were primarily there to inform and not to coerce, I'd be keen to stop and talk to them more often - rather than scuttle past as quickly as possible to avoid having to look into their inevitably frustrated and disappointed eyes.

Somehow, giving or volunteering need to be matched to the psychology of the giver.  Then it may be done willingly, and consequently more generously.  But I realise I have not yet earned the right to disagree too strongly with the methods of others.

And I can't rule out that this is primarily a visceral response, because his mimicking of my admittedly rubbish accent was annoyingly uncanny.