Low Hanging Fruit

You know what I would love to do? I’d love to start an effort devoted entirely to solving the easy problems in the world. Not a new NGO; you know how I feel about that, but a division within a major existing group. It would be funded by donations, not government grants, and focus on the low-hanging fruit in relief and development. Heck, we could call it Low Hanging Fruit, and live with the inevitable LHF acronym. We wouldn’t worry about sustainability, but we’d have a big focus on local involvement.

There are a million little ideas we all run into, that don’t fit with any expressed donor priorities, but would so obviously make a useful different in the world. LHF would work on those. We’d document everything to pieces, so it would also serve as research on what works. Every community we worked in would have a paired control community with similar demographics, and as soon as we could demonstrate an intervention was working, we’d extend it into the control group so they could benefit too.

Because the focus would be on simple solutions, I think it would be easy (well, easier) to get the kind of individual donations we’d need to keep our programs going. A hippo roller or better irrigation is an easy sell, and easy to illustrate in photographs.

I’m not arguing that these kinds of quick fixes are the answer to the world’s problems; far from it. International development needs long-term approaches to major structural problems. But sometimes a band-aid help your wound heal faster, and it’s frustrating to see someone hurting when a five cent piece of plastic and gauze could make a difference.

Here’s some of what we’d do:

Irrigation: Irrigation water all over the world runs in open ditches. Water is then lost to evaporation and seepage into the ground. LHF would cement and enclose drainage ditches. We’d do it if farmers in the community agreed to provide a certain amount of labor. We would know if it was working by measuring water flows.

Water and Sanitation: We’d support distribution of the hippo roller, and the playpump. We’d know they were working if we saw a decrease in waterborne illness, or a decrease in the average reported time spent on fetching water.

Health: We’d teach parents how to make ORS at home, and work with communities to help them establish emergency transport funds for health emergencies and pregnancy, and nutrition education. We’d support new mobile phone applications to improve access to data for health care providers and remind patients on ARV and DOTS regimes to take their medicine.

ETA: Thinking about this some more, any large NGO could establish an internal “low-hanging fruit” fund. Country directors could submit projects to be supported from that pool of funds, based on opportunities they have seen that no major donor is interested in supporting. The fund pool could come from dedicated LHF fundraising or general unrestricted donor funds.

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(photo credit: sebastien.b)

The rollercoaster of field life

There is another thing I’d forgotten about being so close to my work. It’s a constant rollercoaster. When you’re in DC – or the wealthy capital of your choice – you get monthly reports. Possibly a weekly progress update, but not necessarily. Your teams in the field are too busy actually doing their work to report to you every day. Your big data sources are periodic phone calls and monthly and quarterly reports. That kind of time span evens things out. It lets you see the broad trends.

In-country, though, every success and back-step hits you right in the gut. Your life feels like a series of wins and losses. It’s hard to have any sense of overall progress when you just had a terrible meeting with the Ministry of Agriculture and your training just got cancelled. On the other hand, when things are going well, you’re so full of energy and creativity and passion you can push your work to whole new levels of impact. My own project is seeing major progress right now, and it makes it a joy to go to the office.

The answer to this, of course, is decent monitoring and evaluation. If you 1) know your overall goal 2) Know the steps to get to that goal and 3) are collecting data on your program, then you can stop every so often and examine your progress. You can see what work you’ve done so far, what effect it is having, and if that effect is making progress toward your big goal they way you want it to.

M&E data tends to end up only in the hands of project directors and the M&E people. I’d love to see it widely available, so that everyone in the project could see what was moving ahead and what was bogging down. It would require training everyone in how to read and understand M&E data, but that would be useful for a lot of reasons.

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(photo credit: gaelenh)

Chosen because – they are either laughing or screaming – who can tell? And that’s pretty much how it feels most of the time.

Dambisa Moyo and Dead Aid

 

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about Dambisa Moyo, and her ideas about aid. For those who don’t recognize the name, here’s your capsule summary: She’s Oxford and Harvard educated, and a former economist at Goldman Sachs. She just published a book called “Dead Aid,” in which she states that aid is causing Africa’s problems, not alleviating them. She’s getting a lot of media attention – they call her the anti-Bono.

Now I will tell you that I have not actually read Dead Aid. I don’t get review copies of books, so my copy is still making its way to Dushanbe so I can read it.  But, I have read six interviews with her, two op-eds she wrote, an excerpt from the book, and seven different reviews of Dead Aid. We can assume I’ve got the general thrust of her ideas.

And this is what I finally figured out: international aid needs criticism, and it needs skeptics. Without critical thought, we blunder around, destructive and embarrassing. But Dambisa Moyo is not providing the insight we need.

Her Background

People seem to be assuming Moyo knows about foreign aid because she’s from Africa. They tell us repeatedly that she has “skin in the game,” or that African voices need to be heard. And that is true. But there are plenty of Africans who are well-versed in international aid, and have things to say. Why have we chosen Dambisa Moyo to be the spokesperson for aid to Africa?

Aid is not what Moyo is educated in, and it’s not what she’s worked on. We wouldn’t assume Duncan Green could run a hedge fund because he’s an NGO bigshot, or ask Owen Barder to take over a failing bank.

So why do we leap to assume a banker will understand aid? It strikes me as a form of condescension, or even racism, to assume she knows all about poverty alleviation because she’s African. (And Bill Easterly agrees with me.) Moyo’s degrees are in chemistry, finance, and economics. If she wrote a book about African government and private sector spending, or oversaw a major bond issue, I’d sit up and pay attention. I look forward to her next book, about the policy errors Western governments made that led to the financial crisis. That is a book she is more than qualified to write. But she’s not especially qualified to write about aid, unless you count being born in Africa or being an expert in the private sector as a qualification.

Her definition of aid

Moyo states that when she discusses aid, she’s not talking about humanitarian or emergency aid, “charity-based aid, given to specific organisations and people on the ground, in order to achieve specific things,” or locally-purchased food aid. She is objecting to is budget support. Her book ought to be titled “Dead Budget Supplements,” but that is a much less exciting title. Her argument may be targeted, but that’s not how her book is being read. By choosing to frame it in broad terms – or allowing it to be framed as such – she’s creating a movement against programs she herself supports, like the distribution of anti-retrovirals, that really are aid.

Her arguments just don’t make sense

She attacks the World Bank for making loans that were contingent on free-market policies being adopted. Yet she is in favor of the free market, and argues that it will lift Africa out of poverty. Why then is she opposed to the World Bank’s support of it? She doesn’t make a case anywhere for why bond-financing is better than loans from international financial institutions. Both serve as cash infusions to possibly corrupt governments, after all.

Over and over, Moyo makes causal claims without explanation or data to back them up. She argues that, somehow, the problem with Africa is “pity.” Aid doesn’t work in Africa because people feel sorry for Africans, but she doesn’t explain how that effect happens. She says that aid increases the risk of civil unrest, again without explaining how it does so.

She does say many things I agree with

  • Badly managed aid, especially budget supplements, can lead to Dutch Disease as surely as striking oil or mining diamonds.
  • A multi-party system is really not the same as a working democracy.
  • The international aid system can be kind of revolting.
  • Badly managed aid can do great harm.
  • It’s a little freaky that we’re taking major policy advice from rock stars.

The bottom line

I am critical – very critical – of international aid. It’s hard to get it right; there are difficult choices to make, and bad aid can do harm. That’s what this blog is all about. But it can be done right, and it needs to be done right. Done well, it will save lives and improve our collective future. We should focus our energy on learning to provide aid in a way that works.

When you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail. And when you’re a banker, apparently everything looks like it needs a bond issue.

What to do instead of starting an NGO

Here’s a nice list of things you can do instead, excerpted from About.com:

1. Seek fiscal sponsorship from an existing NGO.

2. Volunteer for a non-profit that is doing something similar to what you have in mind.

3. Start a local chapter of a national non-profit.

4. Put together an unincorporated association to fulfill your mission without seeking tax-exempt status.

5. Form or join a giving circle.

6. Set up a donor-advised fund which makes grants to charitable causes of your choice.

7. Become a social entrepreneur by forming a for-profit social venture to accomplish your social goals.

8. Organize support for a cause at an online social networking site.

I particularly like numbers 2, 5, and 6. Volunteering for an NGO, or getting heavily involved in fundraising, give you the chance to learn the ins and outs of the situation before you try to run something yourself.

Ah, perspective

 

It’s easier to be self-righteous when you’re in DC. At headquarters, things seem clear. Good managers, bad managers, good programs and bad programs – you can tell what works and what doesn’t. You can end programs that don’t make sense, or don’t seem to be doing what they’re supposed to.

I was talking to the guys from GiveWell the other day, and one question that they asked was – why do some many international NGOs implement programs that have no evidence for their effectiveness? If you have no idea what impact a program has, why do it?  At the time, I had trouble coming up with a clear answer. Put in those terms, it’s pretty mysterious.

Now, though, I have an answer: in the field you see people’s faces. Say you’re running a multi-million-dollar program that has only documented twelve lives saved. That’s pretty obviously a bad program. You could help a whole lot more people with that money. But, what if you’ve met all twelve people? It’s pretty hard to say no one should have helped them.

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(photo credit: hdptcar)

Five ways to fake a good process

 

  1. Host meetings to find consensus on the way forward. Put too many items on the agenda. Put the things you care about last on the list; call it consensus when everyone agrees with your suggestions so you can go home already.
  2. Do interviews with everyone who might care about your topic. Exhaustive interviews. Write them up into an attractive report with a title that includes the word stakeholders. Distribute the report extensively. Ignore its contents.
  3. Host a working group on your topic. Form sub-working groups. A lot of them. At least 20. Draft an elaborate flow chart of the groups and how they relate. Have every sub-group discuss, edit, and approve the chart. Circulate the changes for approval. Once that’s done, have every sub-group draft a list of priorities for their group. While all this is going on, implement your project. If anyone asks why they weren’t involved, tell them some other sub-working group was.
  4. Write a document that says exactly what you want it to. Label it “draft” in big letters. Circulate it to everyone. Tell everyone who receives it that you want their input. When anyone suggests changes, thank them and ask for the changes in another format. If they give you written changes, ask for them at the meeting next week. If they bring them up at a meeting, have everyone discuss the items and then say you need the final inputs via email. After two months, rearrange all your same points into a new order, and publish the document as final and start your project.
  5. Have a long meeting, with many presentations, on what you plan to do. Invite all your stakeholders. Have them hold all their questions and comments for the end. Run out of time, and don’t let anyone question or comment. From then on, refer to that initial meeting as your “design meeting, where the stakeholders created the project.”

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(photo credit: moogs)

How to cure your PTSD

The other day I was trying to work on a couple projects I really like, and I just couldn’t focus. I just felt uncontrollably twitchy and weird. I also couldn’t edit documents, reformat resumes or enjoy browsing the archives of xkcd. Not being able to read web comics is a red flag, and at that point I realized my heart rate was up, and every muscle in my body was tense, including my face and my toes.

After I started paying attention, I also realized there was a lot of traffic on the road outside. I was once again experiencing the world’s mildest case of PTSD.

See, when I was in Baghdad, I noticed that the sound of distant explosions sounds just like a truck driving over a metal plate in the ground. (Well, it does if you are me.) So since then, every time I hear a truck driving over such a plate, it scares me to a really disproportionate degree.

Especially here in Tajikistan, it doesn’t happen a whole lot. Not a lot of plates or truck traffic. But that other day, for some reason, bang bang bang on the road by my office. Not exactly life-destroying, but upsetting.

Yesterday, at lunch with some embassy people, I found myself sitting next to a woman getting her PhD in psychology. And naturally I asked for free medical advice.

Here’s what she told me: what I have is basically a strong bad association. What I need to do, is find a way to experience the same frightening sound in a situation where I feel safe and happy. I could record the sound and play it at home, for example.

I plan to take my son, who makes me happy all the time, to watch the construction site near my house. Trucks and banging galore, paired with happy, happy baby who loves trucks and construction. I’ll let you know how it goes, but I really think it will work.

Normally, I try not to make this blog all personal, but I thought this might be a useful cognitive technique for other people.

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(photo credit: Titanas)

Chosen because it’s an appropriately discomfiting and scary truck.