Ode to Colonial Humanitarianism

I am constantly amazed by the ability of North American culture to infiltrate virtually every corner of the planet. This week I was in Chuqui Chuqui, a small rural town about 1hr ½ outside of Sucre (please see photo above), sitting in a mud hut home and there, nailed into the disintegrating wall was a poster of Canada’s sweetheart- Avril Lavigne. I started laughing when I spotted her angelic face and so my boss, Dustin, had to ask me what was up (¿Qué tal?). I tried to explain to him that Avril is a Canadian celebrity who grew up outside of my hometown Toronto and that it was weird for me to see her all the way down here, but he didn’t seem to find it the least bit odd. Dustin’s uninterested reaction made me realize that people across the world are very used to seeing random B-list North American celebrities and that it isn’t that strange for them to appear in such remote places. I started wondering if anyone in Chuqui Chuqui had even ever heard an Avril Lavigne song before or if her poster was just mass-produced and then shipped out across the world to be scooped up by anyone infatuated by her bright blonde hair and girly-punkish style. My guess is however, that no one in Chuqui Chuqui has had the pleasure of hearing the masterpiece that is ‘Skaterboy’.

Thinking of the prowess of North American culture, I revisited a concept that was introduced to me formally in my final year at UBC, but that had certainly haunted me prior to that- Colonial Humanitarianism. It’s a concept that overwhelms me and drags me into hours of cyclical self-doubt and cynicism. Also known as neo-colonialism, it refers to the fact that a lot of humanitarian/aid work is frighteningly reminiscent of colonialism. It questions whether or not we are actually able to leave our ‘first world’ thinking at the door and work in partnership with developing nations without pushing our beliefs on them. It asks whether or not a new era of collaborative development work is possible when one side comes from an obvious position of privilege.

A movement known as North-South Solidarity has emerged within international development circles intending to combat the neo-colonial undertones found in development work by promoting relationships based on knowledge sharing (as opposed to just knowledge transfer or money transfer). CCI and FONCRESOL work under a solidarity partnership model. I also like to put international development work into this perspective, but I often wonder if it is possible for such a relationship to exist when CCI and myself are from ‘the North’ and inevitably bring with us our Western thinking/identity as hard as we may try to ditch it. It’s not even just that as Northerners we may have a hard time accepting that our way isn’t necessarily the right way, but it’s also that sometimes when you come from such a position of privilege you are viewed as the expert even though you’re not and don’t want to be. It has been ingrained worldwide that the North is ‘the first world’ and that the South is ‘the third world’ and so trying to shed those notions in order to reach a new development model (North-South solidarity) involves a huge paradigm shift on both sides.

While conducting focus groups with some of FONCRESOL’s rural clients I discovered that very few people save. I believe that everyone can save money regardless of income and that saving is an important step towards expanding one’s economic base, which is the goal of microfinance. Speaking with rural clients however, I began to question if that really is or should be the goal of microfinance. Everyone I spoke to was grateful to have the extra cash flow provided by their microcredit with FONCRESOL and they told me that they don’t save because ‘el dinero siempre tiene que trabajar’ (money always needs to be working). They don't see savings as making good use of their money; they are more inclined to invest it in capital for their farms or small businesses, even if those businesses aren’t especially profitable. Upon hearing this my gut instinct was to come up with ways to change this type of thinking, but then I had to take a step back and wonder if it was really so problematic. Everyone seemed happy living at the level they were living at and they were mostly concerned with sustaining themselves, their families and their businesses. In my head however, I kept thinking: ‘well, you can do more, you can save, you can grow!’ That’s when I noticed my North American roots shining through.
The accumulation of assets and wealth is a Western concept that associates one’s betterment with simply having more. Most development models (because they come from the North) are based on this type of thinking, but increased consumption doesn’t necessarily mean ‘development’ or ‘progress’. Look at the Western world right now- it’s a mess. Overconsumption has created many problems and so promoting capitalistic development tools to those who need to ‘catch up’ may not be the answer. There are a finite number of resources in the world; everyone can’t live the way we live. In order to achieve economic justice some people will unfortunately have to come down a few notches. I’m not trying to say that I don’t think the people of Chuqui Chuqui deserve more or need more, but sometimes I feel guilty promoting a consumption-based way of life, especially if that is not even their traditional way of thinking.

My thoughts concerning the urban clients are less conflicted, although I’m not quite sure why... I think it’s because in the cities, traditions and native culture have already begun to fade. Having said that, maybe it’s somewhat patronizing or unrealistic to suggest that traditional cultures need to be preserved (as if to suggest they're not allowed to change- they need to uphold their National Geographic image). Mario Vargas Llosa, in his The Culture of Liberty, refutes the argument that globalization is an evil force by reminding us that cultures have never been static, hermetically sealed entities. They have always been ebbing and flowing since the beginning of time, so how is it any different now? He argues that the changes we are seeing in the world aren’t always a result of globalization, sometimes it’s just modernization, which may not be such a bad thing. I see what he’s saying, but another part of me struggles to understand why ‘modernization’ and ‘progress’ always has to come at the expense of the poor.

Back to solidarity. The definition of solidarity can be somewhat ambiguous, but to me it means working in partnership towards a common goal. It means listening to both sides and sharing knowledge, skills and resources. It can be difficult sometimes because your view of ‘progress’ or ‘development’ may be different from whomever you’re working with, but your job as an ally is to accept and work with those views. For instance, if I were to work with a community that really wanted to learn English, but I felt imperialistic teaching them English, I would still probably do it because it is the language of the world and I would understand that they want to be able to communicate on a larger scale. The same goes for the work I’m doing now. Microfinance is a development tool that falls perfectly in place with the current neo-liberal market system and although I am not a proponent of this system and I believe that it should be changed, for now I am going to do what I can to help people 'play the game'. The game that we (developed nations) created and now master.