The Confidence Trick

In my third year living in Uganda my relationships with local people started to feel a bit like Groundhog’s day meets Falling Down. I couldn’t figure out why people that I had known for years were beginning to disappoint me and by disappoint me I mean steal from me. This sad truth of working in the developing world crystallized when I read Greg Mortenson’s interview with Outside Magazine. In his defense of recent allegations, he spoke briefly about the “confidence trick” as part of the blame for unexplained disconnects between the Central Asia Institute and some of the schools it supports. It was a true a ha moment in my never-ending attempt to understand the tricky and chaotic field of humanitarian and development work.

Greg Mortenson has been catching hell this week and perhaps deservedly so. Chartered planes and potentially fabricated Taliban abduction stories don’t play well in the media. So I thought I’d lend my two cents to this much ado, which is: I don’t really care what happened or didn’t happen in the books.

My work in Uganda was never a news story. It was never deadly enough or explosive enough or near enough oil. The closest we came to receiving attention was when the Ugandan national newspaper covered our “Chiles Pay and Keep Elephants Away” project, which was astronomically scooped internationally by that idiot who killed an elephant in Zimbabwe. The issue of gay rights in Uganda did make waves internationally for a minute, but only because it was linked to nutty and hateful right-wing churches in the US. Mortenson did something those of us in the humanitarian/development profession are equally parts envious and proud: he brought the world into a conflict zone and focused on the progress and people. As the story goes, in the midst of bombs, he found space to bring in lots and lots of books. He broadened the narrative beyond the numbingly endless stories of bombs and bloodshed and captured our attention on, of all things, the education of girls.

I sympathize with insisting on certain standards, like getting properly paid for your work and *gasp* even comfortable travel and serious security. (God knows I’d have paid for an option other than Air Burundi if I had the cash!) But he’s not completely off the hook. Chartered planes are a tad too comfortable, no matter the availability of funds. The rule of thumb is that an organization’s administration costs should not exceed 10% of the operating budget. As hard as that is, other organizations work very hard to stick to it. The Central Asia Institute, with or without celebrities, is not exempt from this.

This leads me to a larger concern that Mortenson himself acknowledges. He is not a development expert. There is a whole profession behind the headlines, based on academic studies and field research. Do-It-Yourself AID risks people’s lives. I suppose he’s learned this.

Humanitarianism and its oafish sibling development don’t have very good spokespersons. While we bomb Libya and ask why it isn’t working, no one with any real power says, “well perhaps we should try something else.” It doesn’t mean we’re not trying something else. Millions of humanitarian and development dollars are going into places where we have active military campaigns. But it rarely reaches the headlines. You won’t hear sun-burnt Ben Widdemann deliberate over introducing grafted mangoes or improved soy bean seeds like he worries on air about Western Governments supplying “the rebels” (whoever they are, btw) with RPGs.

So is it helpful to bring down a humanitarian hero by comparing him to someone as despicable as Bernie Madoff? Uh, no. Mortensen should stay involved with CAI. He should not try to de-link himself from this work for the simple reasons that it is impossible and unnecessary. Sure, he needs to learn his place, which isn’t steering a multi-million dollar development organization, but rather telling stories that keeps people interested (with or without fabrication). He should be to CAI what Angelina is to UNHCR. A little sexy attention goes a long way to elevate this otherwise unsung work.