One of my favorite concepts from the Less Wrong blog is the "ugh field," coined by Jennifer Rodriguez-Müller. The idea: if you hate washing the dishes, not only do you leave the dishes unwashed, but you hate thinking about the mounting pile of dirty dishes. The more you dislike thinking about the dishes, you harder you try not to think about them at all. In other words, there's an ugh field around the dishes. (In psychology this would be called some kind of defense mechanism, probably denial or thought suppression. But I find "ugh field" so much more descriptive.)
This summer I wanted to learn to play the banjo. In the past, I've quickly lost momentum when trying to learn an instrument. My husband plays about six instruments, so I've used his method for painless musicianship:
- Keep the instrument in plain view where it's easy to pick up for a few minutes in between other activities.
- No scales, exercises, or anything you don't enjoy.
- Spend time fooling around with the instrument, playing whatever you want.
I realize that most of the best musicians do practice scales, etc., but that requires more discipline than I was willing to put into this project. Using Jeff's method means I don't have an ugh field around practice, so I've made decent progress with the banjo this summer.
When a task seems insurmountable, we're less likely to attempt it at all. I think all of us have an ugh field around the fact that there are more problems in the world than we can possibly solve. I don't think our minds can really comprehend that, even if we tried. And most so most people build a very strong ugh field around the topic.
I think it's worthwhile to chip off bits that are more manageable. I can't become a banjo expert this week, nor can I fix the Sahel food crisis. But I can decide that before I go to bed tonight, I'll put in twenty minutes. Maybe I'll read up on different charities, or maybe I'll write an email to a friend about a cause I think is important. If I keep the plan manageable, I'm more likely to actually do it.
I'll go to bed knowing I didn't do everything, but I did something. And that will make it easier to do something else tomorrow.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Upcoming events
The High Impact Network (THINK) is a new group that organizes meetups for people interested in effective altruism. They've got meetups happening this fall in dozens of cities - find out if there's one near you.
Giving What We Can is running groups in several cities this fall. Jeez, those Oxford people are on a roll.
I believe 80,000 Hours will also be running some groups this fall, but they don't have details up yet. The Life You Can Save is looking for leaders for new student groups.
Lastly, Jeff and I are having a dinner/discussion on effective giving September 14th at our house. If you'll be in Boston, let me know.
I've said this before, but I'm totally happy to talk/email/skype with you. Some key people did that for me when I was discovering this movement, and it really made a difference to me. Questions? Arguments? Go for it. juliawise07(at)gmail.com
Giving What We Can is running groups in several cities this fall. Jeez, those Oxford people are on a roll.
I believe 80,000 Hours will also be running some groups this fall, but they don't have details up yet. The Life You Can Save is looking for leaders for new student groups.
Lastly, Jeff and I are having a dinner/discussion on effective giving September 14th at our house. If you'll be in Boston, let me know.
I've said this before, but I'm totally happy to talk/email/skype with you. Some key people did that for me when I was discovering this movement, and it really made a difference to me. Questions? Arguments? Go for it. juliawise07(at)gmail.com
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Always with you
I don't use religious texts as a basis for making decisions, but I recognize that a lot of people do.
I've heard some of them cite Matthew 26:11 as a reason for not giving. Days before Jesus' execuation, a woman pours expensive perfume on him, and Judas complains that the perfume could have been sold to raise money for the poor. Jesus answers,
The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me.
Today I learned that this, like many of Jesus' sayings, was a reference to the Torah. Jesus and his audience would have been familiar with the full Deuteronomy passage:
There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore I command you to be openhanded toward your brothers and toward the poor and needy in your land.
Not quite the "don't bother helping the poor" message the Matthew passage is often used to further.
I've heard some of them cite Matthew 26:11 as a reason for not giving. Days before Jesus' execuation, a woman pours expensive perfume on him, and Judas complains that the perfume could have been sold to raise money for the poor. Jesus answers,
The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me.
Today I learned that this, like many of Jesus' sayings, was a reference to the Torah. Jesus and his audience would have been familiar with the full Deuteronomy passage:
There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore I command you to be openhanded toward your brothers and toward the poor and needy in your land.
Not quite the "don't bother helping the poor" message the Matthew passage is often used to further.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Rooting for your home team
There's a gap between charity evaluators and charity workers. Look at any article on effective charity, and you're likely to see responses from NGO staff voicing their frustration with the evaluation methods:
"You don't understand how hard it is to persuade donors to fund evaluation."
"We're reaching a population that no one else is reaching."
"The type of work we do just isn't measurable by randomized controlled trials."
"It's hard for really small organizations to get noticed."
The thing that worries me about these responses is that it's hard to be objective about your own project. I've been there. When I worked for a nonprofit doing global development and relief work, I was rooting for them. I knew their values, I knew their staff, and I loved both. You see this in devoted donors, too - once you've helped with a project, you want to see it continue. It's only natural, once you feel like part of the group.
But which charity you support is not the point. The point is to help people who need help. Right? That's why we're doing this, remember?
The flaws in any evaluation (and there will be flaws) are bad not because they shortchange charities, but because they shortchange the people who should be getting better help. The question we should be asking is not, "Is the evaluation fair to these organizations?" but "How can donors help the most?"
My home team isn't in an office in Boston. My home team is in a village somewhere. I'm rooting for them.
"You don't understand how hard it is to persuade donors to fund evaluation."
"We're reaching a population that no one else is reaching."
"The type of work we do just isn't measurable by randomized controlled trials."
"It's hard for really small organizations to get noticed."
The thing that worries me about these responses is that it's hard to be objective about your own project. I've been there. When I worked for a nonprofit doing global development and relief work, I was rooting for them. I knew their values, I knew their staff, and I loved both. You see this in devoted donors, too - once you've helped with a project, you want to see it continue. It's only natural, once you feel like part of the group.
But which charity you support is not the point. The point is to help people who need help. Right? That's why we're doing this, remember?
The flaws in any evaluation (and there will be flaws) are bad not because they shortchange charities, but because they shortchange the people who should be getting better help. The question we should be asking is not, "Is the evaluation fair to these organizations?" but "How can donors help the most?"
My home team isn't in an office in Boston. My home team is in a village somewhere. I'm rooting for them.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Letting myself care
Recently I was talking with friends about what role emotion should play in giving decisions. Some said we shouldn't let emotions muddle our thinking.
"But I want to have an emotional connection to the people I help," another said. I found myself agreeing with both sides.
We're emotional creatures (some more than others). Personally, I'm pretty high on the bleeding-heart scale. One thing I loved about Oxfam is that they do a great job documenting their work in articles and photography, so I could feel really connected to the people they work with. I put their pictures on my wall. I wanted to see their faces.
Of course, I don't want to choose a cause based on how emotionally connected I already am to it. I don't want to pass up an excellent opportunity to help because I felt more pulled to a less effective cause. When it comes to choosing a cause, I want to act based on information, not sentiment. At the end of the year I'll reevaluate which charities to support, and I don't want to be muddled when I do that.
But once I've chosen a cause, I give myself permission to fall in love with it. What I care about, after all, is not the cause itself but the human lives at stake. (For you, it might be animal lives as well, or the lives of people not yet born. But you get the idea.) So I look for a way to connect.
Against Malaria Foundation posts photos of most of its bednet distributions. It's a way to document that they're doing what they say they are - but for me, it's also a chance to see the human face of the work they do. The work I help them do.
Seeing her face is a way of overcoming the blind chance that put me in the US and her in Mali. It's a way of making us neighbors.
It's hard to feel warm and fuzzy about our donations going to dozens of distribution points around the world. We didn't evolve to feel an emotional glow about numbers. It can feel like we're sending money into some kind of oblivion. It's hard to feel motivated about that.
That's why I imagine it going to her. I imagine how glad her family will be to see her reach her eighth birthday, eleventh birthday, twentieth birthday. I imagine all the things she can do now that she's not sick. That kind of glow is what my heart was made for.
"But I want to have an emotional connection to the people I help," another said. I found myself agreeing with both sides.
We're emotional creatures (some more than others). Personally, I'm pretty high on the bleeding-heart scale. One thing I loved about Oxfam is that they do a great job documenting their work in articles and photography, so I could feel really connected to the people they work with. I put their pictures on my wall. I wanted to see their faces.
Of course, I don't want to choose a cause based on how emotionally connected I already am to it. I don't want to pass up an excellent opportunity to help because I felt more pulled to a less effective cause. When it comes to choosing a cause, I want to act based on information, not sentiment. At the end of the year I'll reevaluate which charities to support, and I don't want to be muddled when I do that.
But once I've chosen a cause, I give myself permission to fall in love with it. What I care about, after all, is not the cause itself but the human lives at stake. (For you, it might be animal lives as well, or the lives of people not yet born. But you get the idea.) So I look for a way to connect.
Against Malaria Foundation posts photos of most of its bednet distributions. It's a way to document that they're doing what they say they are - but for me, it's also a chance to see the human face of the work they do. The work I help them do.
Seeing her face is a way of overcoming the blind chance that put me in the US and her in Mali. It's a way of making us neighbors.
It's hard to feel warm and fuzzy about our donations going to dozens of distribution points around the world. We didn't evolve to feel an emotional glow about numbers. It can feel like we're sending money into some kind of oblivion. It's hard to feel motivated about that.
That's why I imagine it going to her. I imagine how glad her family will be to see her reach her eighth birthday, eleventh birthday, twentieth birthday. I imagine all the things she can do now that she's not sick. That kind of glow is what my heart was made for.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
What I learned
I think one reason people want to help locally, and to do something hands-on rather than just writing a check, is that they want to see the situation first-hand. I can see the appeal of this.
I'm finishing up my visit to Ecuador. I wanted to experience a developing country, and to some extent I have. I've seen kids begging in the streets. I've seen people with deformities that probably would have been corrected in the US. I see how nothing is wasted here. Yesterday my host family curiously asked me if it's true that in America we throw out things that are still good. I confessed that it was.
And yet I'm not sure that this experience has changed my goals or how I think about philanthropy. Yes, it hit me in the gut the first time I saw a child begging on the street at night, when I saw her playing with broken glass for lack of any other toy.
But I pretty already much knew that poverty sucks, and that I want to do something about that. My donations won't go to help that girl, because the best organizations I know of don't work in Ecuador. But they will help other people who had the bad luck to be born with few resources.
Some people are more driven by emotion and first-hand experience than others. If you're one of those people, maybe it would make sense to go see the work you think is important. Charities are very happy to tell you about what they're doing, and if you want to pay your own way, you could probably visit their field sites.
I'm affected by the poverty I see here, and for that matter, by the problems I see at home in Boston. But for every person I see who tugs at my heart, there are millions more I don't see. I feel I owe it to them to give the best help I can. Which means giving based on the best research I can find, not who I happened to see.
I'm finishing up my visit to Ecuador. I wanted to experience a developing country, and to some extent I have. I've seen kids begging in the streets. I've seen people with deformities that probably would have been corrected in the US. I see how nothing is wasted here. Yesterday my host family curiously asked me if it's true that in America we throw out things that are still good. I confessed that it was.
And yet I'm not sure that this experience has changed my goals or how I think about philanthropy. Yes, it hit me in the gut the first time I saw a child begging on the street at night, when I saw her playing with broken glass for lack of any other toy.
But I pretty already much knew that poverty sucks, and that I want to do something about that. My donations won't go to help that girl, because the best organizations I know of don't work in Ecuador. But they will help other people who had the bad luck to be born with few resources.
Some people are more driven by emotion and first-hand experience than others. If you're one of those people, maybe it would make sense to go see the work you think is important. Charities are very happy to tell you about what they're doing, and if you want to pay your own way, you could probably visit their field sites.
I'm affected by the poverty I see here, and for that matter, by the problems I see at home in Boston. But for every person I see who tugs at my heart, there are millions more I don't see. I feel I owe it to them to give the best help I can. Which means giving based on the best research I can find, not who I happened to see.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
When is your help special?
I've heard the argument that we should “think globally, act locally” because we understand the needs of our own communities best. I'm willing to accept this for some situations.
I think it boils down to where your special help would be useful. If you pass a car accident, yes, your your physical presence means you have a unique ability to help.
Likewise, when it comes to personal interactions, people are not interchangeable. Getting a card or letter from a stranger is not so comforting as hearing from someone you love. We evolved to interact with people we know in real life, and this still satisfies us more than some abstract kindness from a stranger.
So recognize the areas where you can be uniquely helpful: being kind with your family and friends. Sudden emergencies where you are physically present. Being a good neighbor.
But here's where I think people go askew with this logic: they feel that financial help should also work this way. After all, don't I understand the needs in my own community better than anyone? So I should fund projects in my own community, and other people should take care of theirs.
But rich people live in communities with other rich people, and poor people live near poor people. Your average American probably has several relatives or neighbors who have a few thousand dollars in their bank accounts. Your average Liberian does not know any such people. When both rich and poor people give in their own communities, the opera gets a lot more funding than the maternal health clinic in Liberia.
Of course, lots of first-worlders have given misguided aid because they misunderstood the needs of people in other countries. But you can misunderstand the needs even in your own community.
I'm in Quito, Ecuador right now, and several of my fellow travelers have been volunteering at a local orphanage. The place is in bad shape, and you can't see the kids without wanting to do something. So some Americans decided to raise money for the orphanage from their friends at home. After all, they had played with the kids, seen the need.
Except it turned out the reason the place was falling to pieces was that the owner was embezzling money. That money would probably never have reached the kids. Americans weren't alone in being duped by this guy. Every Christmas he had a big fundraiser and lots of Ecuadorans gave money, clothes, and toys. The locals were just as misinformed, despite it being in their own community, because they hadn't looked at the financials.
I saw a lot of misguided community help the summer I worked in a domestic violence shelter. We had a garage overflowing with blankets, because people had this idea that battered women need blankets. What they actually needed was a child's car seat. The fact that donors were local didn't give them special insider knowledge about the women's needs. It would have been better for them to donate cash so that we could use it for what was most needed (the car seat).
There are good and bad charities working in all parts of the world. Find ones that will use your money well, and that are doing important work. (And if you live in a rich part of the world, the greatest need probably isn't local.) Then donate money, which will help more than your blankets, old clothes, or volunteering.
And then, if you want, find someone you love and give them the hug or the kind word that only you can give.
I think it boils down to where your special help would be useful. If you pass a car accident, yes, your your physical presence means you have a unique ability to help.
Likewise, when it comes to personal interactions, people are not interchangeable. Getting a card or letter from a stranger is not so comforting as hearing from someone you love. We evolved to interact with people we know in real life, and this still satisfies us more than some abstract kindness from a stranger.
So recognize the areas where you can be uniquely helpful: being kind with your family and friends. Sudden emergencies where you are physically present. Being a good neighbor.
But here's where I think people go askew with this logic: they feel that financial help should also work this way. After all, don't I understand the needs in my own community better than anyone? So I should fund projects in my own community, and other people should take care of theirs.
But rich people live in communities with other rich people, and poor people live near poor people. Your average American probably has several relatives or neighbors who have a few thousand dollars in their bank accounts. Your average Liberian does not know any such people. When both rich and poor people give in their own communities, the opera gets a lot more funding than the maternal health clinic in Liberia.
Of course, lots of first-worlders have given misguided aid because they misunderstood the needs of people in other countries. But you can misunderstand the needs even in your own community.
I'm in Quito, Ecuador right now, and several of my fellow travelers have been volunteering at a local orphanage. The place is in bad shape, and you can't see the kids without wanting to do something. So some Americans decided to raise money for the orphanage from their friends at home. After all, they had played with the kids, seen the need.
Except it turned out the reason the place was falling to pieces was that the owner was embezzling money. That money would probably never have reached the kids. Americans weren't alone in being duped by this guy. Every Christmas he had a big fundraiser and lots of Ecuadorans gave money, clothes, and toys. The locals were just as misinformed, despite it being in their own community, because they hadn't looked at the financials.
I saw a lot of misguided community help the summer I worked in a domestic violence shelter. We had a garage overflowing with blankets, because people had this idea that battered women need blankets. What they actually needed was a child's car seat. The fact that donors were local didn't give them special insider knowledge about the women's needs. It would have been better for them to donate cash so that we could use it for what was most needed (the car seat).
There are good and bad charities working in all parts of the world. Find ones that will use your money well, and that are doing important work. (And if you live in a rich part of the world, the greatest need probably isn't local.) Then donate money, which will help more than your blankets, old clothes, or volunteering.
And then, if you want, find someone you love and give them the hug or the kind word that only you can give.
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