And then the earthquake struck.  Now we care about Haiti.  Now we care about getting aid to Haiti.  Now we demand that our government intervene.  Don’t get me wrong, I get it.  Drastic times call for increased attention and resources.  They are in desperate need.  The world should rally to help them.

But let’s not forget.  Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  And for a couple years now Haiti has been in serious need of resources since they were hit by 4 hurricanes in 2008.  Haitians needed temporary protected status (TPS)  to be able to get off the island, come to the US, and work for a short period of time so they could survive and send money home to their families.  The US government under both Presidents Bush and Obama refused to give Haiti TPS.  Even more, Haitians were being deported and sent back to a devastated country.

“In many ways, the hurricane season of 2008 was the cruelest ever experienced in Haiti. Four storms–Fay, Gustav, Hanna, and Ike–dumped heavy rains on the impoverished nation. The rugged hillsides, stripped bare of 98% of their forest cover thanks to deforestation, let flood waters rampage into large areas of the country. Particularly hard-hit was Gonaives, the fourth largest city. According to reliefweb.org, Haiti suffered 793 killed, with 310 missing and another 593 injured. The hurricanes destroyed 22,702 homes and damaged another 84,625. About 800,000 people were affected–8% of Haiti’s total population. The flood wiped out 70% of Haiti’s crops, resulting in dozens of deaths of children due to malnutrition in the months following the storms. Damage was estimated at over $1 billion, the costliest natural disaster in Haitian history. The damage amounted to over 5% of the country’s $17 billion GDP, a staggering blow for a nation so poor.” (from http://www.wunderground.com/education/haiti.asp)

And now the earthquake.  Hopefully there will be sustained attention and effort to rebuild Haiti.  Better late than never.

Thanks to my wonderful wife for encouraging me to do this and for giving me the space to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

And thanks to my family for their support.

And so long weekends with nothing to do.

Now imagine the same thing being done…but, say, by inner-city, black protestors speaking out against, say, dilapidated inner city schools or police brutality.  Say, like these guys did in the 60′s.

Can you imagine the outrage?  Can you imagine the fear that people would feel?  Could you imagine the threat it would be?

When white folks do it, it is an act of patriotism.  If black folks were to do it, it would be seen by many as an act of terrorism.  I’m sure of it.  References would be made to the militant black movement of the 60′s.  People would be talking about how black folks just don’t want to be a part of America.  And their racism would be masked by such terms as “patriotism” and “love of country” and “democracy” and “liberty” and “national security.”

Ugh.

Those days are gone.  Long gone.

Healthcare is the topic.  And it’s a hot one.  If Nelly had anything to say about it, we’d all be debating and yelling in our underwear.  This fully clothed “debate” (I use this term loosely since the technical term suggests organization of thought, point-counterpoint presentation, and some semblence of sanity) rages on.  But I’m not sure what the debate is actually about anymore.

It’s not actually about healthcare.  Not any more.

Now it is just about angry people yelling.  Loudly.  Without listening.  Without wanting to listen.  Without attempting to get facts or contribute to the solution.  Just yelling.  Accusing.  Blaming.  Unwillingness to acknowledge past mistakes for the sake of ideology and being correct.

It kind of reminds me of an argument I had with my mom once.  I was 15 or 16.  Young.  Immature.  About 45 minutes into the screaming match, we had moved well past the original point of contention.  I don’t think either of us cared so much about the content of the argument as accusations flew and facts were ignored.  We were both just looking for a word or phrase spoken by the other person so we could pounce on it, point out the other person’s mistake or erronous thinking.  Yelling for the sake of yelling.  Looking for a chance to be right.  In the words of REO Speedwagon, we’d forgotten what we started fighting for.

In this healthcare debate, I fear that we’ve forgotten what we started fighting for.

I’m not naive enough to think that two sides can’t and won’t disagree.  We need disagreement.  But we also need a little less crazy and a little more effort.  We need a little more effort to discuss facts.  We need a little more effort to promote civil discourse.  Heck, I’ll even take slightly more effort.

What troubles me most, I think, is the way that much of the yelling is not about helping those who don’t have healthcare.  That’s what this debate should be about.  Unfortunately those people have been lost in the shuffle.  We don’t hear their stories on the news coverage.  (Interestingly, nearly everyone I have seen in the coverage and the town hall meetings are white.  Where are the voices of our black, Hispanic, Middle Eastern, and Asian sisters and brothers?)

After 9/11, there was much talk about Americans participating in the common good, about Americans chipping in to help each other.  As I said, those days are gone.  We’re scared because the economy is terrible, unemployment is up, businesses are struggling, and families are hurting.  Fear has in insulating effect.  We try to protect what we have.  It’s an honest and natural response.  I get it.

But it doesn’t help us to figure out a solution.  Yelling louder to make your point doesn’t mean you’re participating in dialogue.  I just means you’re being louder.  I’m talking about those on the right and the left.

And to those who profess to be Christian’s out there…for the love of God, let’s act like Christians.  It’s the least we can do.

So let’s all keep our clothes on, put on some REO Speedwagon, and take a deep breath.

Now, let’s talk about this healthcare thing…

One of the questions I had going into the book was this:  What kind of people buy into a religious worldview that is so extreme?  Are these people who grew up in particular religious environments?  Did they come to believe such things through intellectural or spiritual pursuit?

In his Pulitzer Prize winning book Wright, weaves a bit of this into his historical narrative.  Many Al-Qaeda recruits had something one thing in common.  Displacement.  He writes, “Most who joined the jihad did so in a country other than the one in which they were reared…Despite their accomplisments, they had little standing in the host societies where they lived.”  They were Algerians in France, Moroccans in Spain, Yemenis in Saudi Arabia, Pakistani in London.  Disconnected.  No attachment.  No community.  No sense of belonging.  So, many of them turned to a religion (Islam) that provided attachment and commonality and belonging.  Wright writes, “It was more than a faith — it was an identity.”  Now, I don’t want to suggest that this would have been the only reason they became connected to an extremist faction of Islam.  It is probably more complicated than that.  But I think there is something to be said about this displacement and disconnectedness.

As someone who works with immigrants and refugees here in the US and orphans in Russia, Ukraine, and Uganda, I was particularly struck by this.  I mean, it’s not a surprise.  It makes a lot of sense.  We hear about it all the time.  A young man joins a gang, where he robs and steals, only later to tell about how he did it because he found a sense of belonging. Though taken to a different level,  it’s the story of middle and high school.  We’ve all done it ourselves.  You do certain things with certain people because it gives you an identity, it helps you to belong.  What struck me was how difference can result in disconnectedness, which can lead one to destructive behavior for themselves or others.

When you don’t share the language, don’t share the culture, and don’t share the identity of those around you, maybe it is easier to latch on to any person or group that welcomes you.  Of the many reasons to be welcoming and compassionate, this is yet another reason why reaching out to those who are different than us.  Not simply because “they might become terrorists” but because it is the right thing to do.  Because when people feel isolated and alone and disconnected, they experience pain, hurt, and loneliness.  Because isolated people are at risk to engage in risky and destructive behaviors.

I hear about this all the time in my work with orphans overseas.  And these children share the culture and language.  But because they can be seen as the trash of society, they are isolated, despised, and pushed aside.  So they turn to drugs and alcohol, prostitution and crime.  They begin to have a distorted view of themselves, seeing themselves as not worth anything.  Their own lives and the lives of others are destroyed because they don’t belong.

Because we live in a culture that values personal responsibility and accomplishments, displaced people are often viewed as people who have brought it upon themselves or who simply aren’t trying hard enough.  I don’t want to take personal responsibility out of the picture, but when people are displaced and isolated — and when we know that we do certain things because of belonging and community — we have to wonder how we contribute to the isolation of others, particularly those who are different than us.  I’m not saying that we are all responsible for every disconnected, isolated, displaced person.  But I do believe that these people cross our paths more often than we think.  And when we don’t extend welcome to those we can, then yes, we are responsible.

Millions of dollars are being sent by America to Afghanistan in the form of aid.  Millions.  Probably more like billions.  But the money doesn’t always get to where it needs to be.  Some projects are paid for multiple times due to the lack of organization.  Even worse — and truly a big part of the problem — is that those making decisions about how money is spent never see if it gets to where it is supposed to be going.  And when it does get there, no one is there to make sure that the funding is effective and meeting the appropriate needs.  Benevolence without accountability makes one complicit.  You can’t claim to be about goodwill without being responsible to make sure aid is effective.  Otherwise, you’re at risk of simply making a terrible situation even more dire.

I love the solution that the author of the article offers: “We need to be good neighbors. Offer help. Be visible. Take some risks to communicate with ordinary people.”  No matter what cause or organization we’re talking about, we would all be better off being with those we seek to help, communicating with them, being good neighbors, listening to them, learning from them.  Being with the people we seek to help gives us the chance to find out what the needs are and if the needs are truly being met.  It allows those receiving help the chance to have a voice.  But it also gives those offering aid and help the chance to be transformed.  It makes us better people.  It makes us into the kind of people who are compassionate and willing to learn.  It makes us the kind of people who can actually participate in bringing change to communities…and we get to do it along side those in need.

There has been a push by organizations and some politicians to get TPS, Temporary Protected Status, for Haiti.  TPS would allow undocumented migrants the opportunity to stay and work in the US for a period of time without the threat of deportation.  The US has granted TPS in the past to other countries that have been devastated by natural disasters.  For some reason, Secretary of Homeland Security Michael Chertoff rejected the plea for TPS for Haiti.  Because of this, there are currently 32,000 Haitians in the US awaiting deportation.

But when deported, what do these people have to go back to?  Jobs are scarce.  Food is scarce.  Death awaits.  Haiti is also one of the poorest countries in the world and has seen political unrest (including a coup in 2004) since its independence.  It is such a devastating situation that men, women, and children continue to risk their lives by boarding shifty, overcrowded boats to come to the US to find work and hope.   Recently a sailboat carrying 200 Haitian migrants capsized near the Turks and Caicos Islands.  120 have been found, 15 are dead, and 65 are missing.  It’s not that they want to leave their country.  It’s simply a matter of survival.  It’s worth the risk of death on the open sea.  It’s worth the risk of one day being deported from the US.  The situation in Haiti is just that bad.

But I often wonder to myself about the way that we talk about the needs that we are meeting.  Organizations and people working in organizations have their “go to” stories of success and trauma that they use to talk about the work they are doing.  To be honest, I have them, from my work with immigrants and refugees as well as my work with orphans in African and Russia.  They are gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, and mind-numbing.  Suffering, poverty, pain, isolation…people really are experiencing these.  I have seen it.  And I have told others about it.

What I am wondering is this: what is our moral obligation when we tell these stories?  Are we free to tell these stories how we want, when we want?  What are the limits on telling such stories?  Organization use stories in order to raise financial support, to communicate about the work they do, to show how they are different than other organizations who do similar work.  But is it all fair game in the nonprofit world?  What are inappropriate ways to use stories and images?  How does an organization accurately present their work without overstating the case, without manipulation, and without taking advantage of people?

On this idea of taking advantage of people…I was recently reading material about how nonprofit organizations can effectively raise money.  Not a bad thing.   All nonprofits must do it to fulfill their mission.  And there are people out there who want to give to such work.  In the material I was reading, the author stated that people are more likely to give when they hear an emotional and compelling story.  A study cited actually showed that people respond more to one simple, moving story that than they do statistics.  Perhaps this is because we most identify and connect with narrative as opposed to numbers.  Perhaps this is because we respond to the emotional more than to the cognitive (numbers).  But is it possible to use the results of this study to manipulate people into giving?  Or is their giving simply an expression of their own free will to give their money to whomever they wish, whether they are giving out of the emotion of a moment or something else?  And, to take it perhaps a step further, is it possible that the showing of images and telling of stories actually exploits those who suffer?  Even if showing pictures and tellings stories is “for a good cause”?

What do you think?

When Jackie was signed by the Dodgers in 1946, the owner of the Dodgers, Branch Rickey, told Jackie that if he were signed, he would need to be prepared to endure harassment, threats, and unmatched pressure to perform well.  And experience these, he did.  Yet he went on to be voted Rookie of the Year, was selected as the Most Valuable Player in 1950, helped lead his team to a championship in 1955, and was later inducted into the Hall of Fame. 

His demeanor belied his fear.  Jackie later said that while it might not have been evident to those watching, the harassments and threats that he faced got to him.  ”The toll these incidents took were greater than I realized.  I was overestimating my stamina and underestimating the beating I was taken.  I couldn’t sleep or eat.”  Speaking about an incident in which an opposing team’s manager organized his team to chant the n-word and in which his teammate did nothing, Jackie said, “I felt tortured and I tried to just play ball and ingore the results.  But it was really getting to me…For one wild rage-crazed moment, I thought, ‘To hell with Mr. Rickey’s noble experiment…To hell with the image of the patient black freak I was supposed to create.  I could throw down my bat, stride over to the Phillies dugout, grab one of those white sons of b——, and smash his teeth in with my despised black fist.  Then I could walk away from it all.’ ”  Tormented yet successful, Jackie played on.

As one story goes, a local white supremicist group in Cincinatti threatened to assassinte Robinson when the Dodgers came to town.  One of Jackie’s teammates, Pee Wee Reese, said, “I think we will all wear 42 and then they will have a shooting gallery.”  Well, Jackie, today everyone wears #42 in solidarity…but also in honor of you.  Because of your bravery, every player can wear your number today, a number that brings not guns and fear and racism and harassment, but tears, applause, and gratitude.  And while there is still much work to be done in this country with regard to racism and hate and violence, your commitment to justice and equality and the desire to do what you love has inspired millions and brought us further along on the road to justice, peace, and opportunity for all.

(All quotes are from A People’s History of Sports in the United States by Dave Zirin.)