A man I know today said:
‘Do you know? I donate £12 a month to the deaf children. I know I should stop it. It was just that these nice-looking women knocked on the door. I keep thinking I have to cancel that direct debit. ’
‘But why do you want to do that?’ I asked.
‘Because maybe I should at least spread it out a bit. You know, share it between other good causes.’
‘I’ve heard it all now,’ I thought. ‘£12! And he thinks he could spread it out? ’
‘I don’t know why I’m giving it,’ he continued. ‘It’s not like I’ve got a thing about deaf children.’
‘Uh, Carl,’ I said. ‘Don’t you think it’s a good thing to give to charity?’
‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘The Government should pay for these things. Why should I have to shell out? They get enough off me in taxes. And you never know where it really goes, anyway; if it actually gets to the people.’
I kept thinking about what he’d said, afterwards, because I was surprised at his attitude. Of course, one is not supposed to mention what one gives to charity in polite society, but as Carl mentioned it, and indicated his scepticism about the whole thing, it got me thinking. Why should it be taboo and what effect does it have, keeping it a taboo subject? In any case I like to break taboos. So I checked the bank account and this is what we gave last month:
£144.24, made up of regular contributions to: World Vision, Water Aid, Action Aid, NSPCC, Cancer Research, the RSPCA and the Air Ambulance (in order from most to least).
Also, £100 to the Red Cross as a one-off response to the Syrian refugee crisis. And I also remember throwing a fiver into an anti-bullying bucket at Morrisons; so a total of about £250.
I then told Adrian about my conversation with Carl.
‘It’s Only Child Syndrome [Adrian often talks about this medically recognised condition]. And because he’s got no children either, he’s used to just thinking about himself. And in fact, his business is doing very well and he’s just inherited a large sum of money.’
Thinking more about Carl’s words, I wasn’t sure if he felt that he was a fool to be giving money away; like he was a mug. Or maybe his subconscious intention had been to boast to me and he was secretly proud of his large monthly donation? Who knows?
What is true is that very few people talk openly about this topic (it’s a bit like not telling people how much you earn).
So, I was wondering: why is it so taboo to say what you do or don’t give to charity?
Answers that spring to mind:
- YOU GIVE NOTHING OR VERY LITTLE AND YOU DON’T WANT OTHERS TO KNOW HOW TIGHT YOU ARE.
- YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT OTHERS GIVE AS THAT MIGHT MAKE YOU FEEL GUILTY.
- YOU’RE NATURALLY MODEST AND DO LOTS OF GOOD DEEDS BUT DON’T LIKE TO TALK ABOUT IT.
Whatever the reason, a social taboo develops and we are led to believe that anyone who is open about it, is boasting in a most uncouth way. This then lets all the tight-arses off the hook.
We have friends, for example, where both partners earn a tidy amount and I’d swear to God they give hardly anything to charity. I can tell, because when I mention now and then how I like to, they fall silent. A natural response would be: ‘Oh, yes, the charity I support is…’
One Christmas I gave some family members and friends the ‘Oxfam’ and ‘World Vision’ gifts (in addition to their usual presents of smellies etc.) – they received cards saying someone in the developing world had received a goat, some chickens, seeds etc. One friend who was given one of these cards, saying that a family had been given a half-acre of land to cultivate, said rather belligerently: ‘And do I get to see the field and go on it?’ This was a wealthy person in a highly-paid job and she couldn’t hide her fury. My mother and sister, on the other hand, were very pleased to receive a small present and the knowledge that someone far less fortunate had benefited from me not wasting money on things they didn’t need. That one friend’s attitude, however, really put me off doing the same thing again. What a shame.
Some would think that my careful control of the weekly budget (described in an earlier post) means I’m tight and that their spending all their money every month on themselves is generosity. Not quite.
So to conclude my latest food for thought:
Although I give this regular amount of money to charity, I know I don’t give enough. I feel I have to keep a lot back for a rainy day – being a landlord with a lot of mortgages, I want to be prepared for a sharp increase in mortgage rates (we’ve nearly been in trouble before), but deep down I know I should give more away. People’s lives could be saved with my money. I won’t be squeezing my way through the eye of that needle. I’ll rot in hell probably, for all my good deeds. But I won’t be on my own. I may not give away enough of my money; but what fate awaits those who give zero away, despite their handsome salaries?
NB. Before everyone has a go at me, I am referring to people who can afford it. I’m not going to be like the Labour activist who came around my Dad’s house one Sunday evening during the Miners’ Strike and asked him for a donation. ‘Sorry, I haven’t got any money,’ he replied. ‘Well, a few tins of food would be good,’ she continued. ‘Sorry, I haven’t got anything apart from one tin of soup and I need that tonight,’ he mumbled, embarrassed. ‘Humph,’ she said, ‘thanks for that,’ and she sauntered off, leaving him feel ashamed and humiliated, for not helping people who HAD MORE MONEY THAN HIM, STRIKE OR NO STRIKE.
But for those who have plenty, how about at least giving some of it away to others less fortunate now and again?