Business / Opinion
Hot Air
Columnist Boyd Farrow on all that’s wrong with the world.
This issue: cynical acts of charity
Here’s a question. A friend tells you he’s going to try to complete a marathon to raise money for a Good Cause. Research into a so-far incurable disease, perhaps. Or victims of flood or famine or civil war, maybe. He wonders if you would sponsor him to run. Would you tell your friend: a. “Sorry, but I’d rather treat myself to a nice meal”; b. “Of course, I’d be honoured to sponsor you”; or c. “Sure, I’ll sponsor you, but on one condition. You must run the entire 42km dressed as a giant chicken. No, wait a minute! Make that a clown, a clown with enormous flipperty flopperty feet!”
Judging by the huge number of people who participate in charity stunts dressed as penguins or Batman, it seems safe to assume that the vast majority of us would go for the third option. Clearly, we have become a society of complete and utter sadists. In fact, with reality TV having raised the humiliation-for-cash bar so high we must be close to sponsoring the feeble or the desperate competing in their own fancy-dress fun runs.
Yet the alternative theories are equally unpalatable. Either we’re such a society of exhibitionists – grateful when any Good Cause bestows on us a fig leaf of respectability – or we’ve become so sanctimonious we are constantly looking for ever more ostentatious ways to announce our generosity. Cycle naked to save the planet? Saddle up. Sit in a bath of herrings to save the dolphins? Bring it on. We’ll happily squeeze into any old superhero costume for a worthy cause just as long as we aren’t required to subscribe to the superhero code of anonymity.
The most nauseating example of look-at-me philanthropy is the celebrity auction where business leaders bid thousands of euros to kiss supermodels or buy actors’ napkin doodles. As if anyone is not aware that these self-aggrandising stunts reap more free publicity for a company than an oversized cheque being handed to a leaping telethon host. Virtue certainly is not its own reward when stock prices also jump.
‘Foundation’ or affiliated disease or pet endangered species. Have you noticed how long the bank queues are recently? This is because half the tellers are taking inspirational photos of each other on icecaps for the company’s annual report. Management consultants wear more coloured ribbons than ballerinas. You can’t book a hotel room on one continent without discovering what the chain is doing for some tribe on another. You can’t buy an espresso without learning about your bean grower’s subsidised dental plan. Your insurance company is gaga for lepers. Your travel agent is out there curing cancer. Your car rental firm has saved more lives than the seatbelt.
You can’t buy an espresso without learning about your bean grower’s subsidised dental plan. Your travel agent is curing cancer. Your car rental firm has saved more lives than the seatbelt
accept that foundations are tax-deductible. We know that donations can improve the image of a company and help it to deliver bigger profits. We, like, get it. In our really cynical moments we might even suspect that by running a charity for one bunch of kids, a company can divert attention away from the fact that its products are being made by another bunch of kids somewhere else in the world.
Yes, we know all that, but we also know that whatever the motives, charity is a Good Thing. It can change or save lives. The point is, if companies don’t stop making such a huge song and dance about how much good they are doing their customers are going to become jaded very quickly and there might even be a huge charity backlash. And saving the world is not a sprint but a marathon.
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