How Not To Be A Role Model - An Apology (Of Sorts)

So my last blog caused a bit of a stir. Sorry about that.

Well, sorry if it was a bit too polemical, sarcastic, holier-than-thou – point taken. And sorry if you’re one of the many dedicated aid workers who happen to be based in the city doing useful strategic work but do all you can to keep in touch with what’s really going on out there.

Not sorry of course if you’re a culturally loutish, Lexus-driving, burger-scoffing, beer-swilling, fag-blowing, bribing, privitising, abusing, proselytising bad egg.

Either way, I do believe that the issue of role-modeling is a crucial one, and would like to contribute to a debate about it. Perhaps in a slightly more balanced way this time.

One important issue I hinted at is that it’s not just what you do, it can be simply who you are. The more white, old and male you happen to be, the more respect and influence you are likely to be given here, whether you deserve it or not. (This of course is not only true here, but it is a strong tradition).

This is a dilemma – I often ask my local colleagues to challenge the advice I give, as frequently they have much greater insight into issues and solutions which work in their context. I am usually frustrated, as they basically show me too much respect – largely, I suspect, due to my whiteness, maleness and increasing baldness.

We are conspicuous and what we do is noticed, commented on and often taken as best practice. The cleverest (and most cynical) exploiters of this are advertisers working for big tobacco in developing countries (how can they sleep at night?). Phnom Penh billboards are packed with Alain Delon ‘The Taste of France’ and Davidoff ‘The More You Know’ adverts, always with beautiful, happy white models. This is because people here think white is good and want to be like white people. (Literally too – the market for creams including whitening agents is a multi-million dollar industry even in this relatively poor country).

Sometimes it is hard to know how to respond. Frequently I am ushered to the front of meetings, just because I am a white man. Yesterday I was asked to make sure I spend as much time on the hospital wards as possible – sadly not due to my hospital management expertise, but rather ‘patients like to see a white guy around’. Should I refuse, pointing out that these attitudes are based on and likely further fuel prejudice? Is it enough to merely acknowledge the issue and limit a response to gentle discussion with trusted colleagues?

So much for what we can’t control. But our behaviour we certainly can influence.

Now I’m no angel. I’m just as guilty as the rest of the volunteers and ex-pats when it comes to whinging about the irritations of living in a developing country. I certainly won’t drive a Lexus and make sure I’m seen out and about on my bike – but then I have just jetted off for a carbon-busting Christmas break. I will never darken the doors of KFC, but would give just about anything for a home-delivered pizza (unlikely in my village). I don’t smoke but I enjoy a few beers at weekends. I accept that there is a degree of moral compromise here – but I hope I can hold my head high.

I don’t pay bribes of course. Well, actually, I haven’t had one directly demanded yet, but if I am stopped by a gang of traffic police I may find it hard to refuse. And thinking about it, every single time I leave my village the driver of the shared taxi pays the police 2000 riels (half a dollar) – am I morally excused just because he pays this on my behalf? (A bit like getting my mate to buy the burgers?).

One thing I believe I can be proud of is that I have offered two years of my life to try to help improve the public health system here. This may well sound a bit pompous, but I worked for the UK’s National Health Service because I genuinely believe people should get the best healthcare possible based on their clinical need, not on their ability to pay. The NHS is of course far from perfect, but that principle seems to be going strong (please don’t tell me I’m wrong!). Here it’s a very different story – those with money get the best care, those with a bit can at least access hospitals and pay for food, and those with none often just suffer or die quietly. And I am doing it in a poor, rural area – noone can accuse me of relaxing in an airconditioned office (well, apart from when I go to work in the big hospital down the road to cool off!). And yet even here there’s a moral quandary – if I get really ill (several volunteers do), should I seriously demand to be treated just like everyone else here, and refuse to go to the nice posh hospital in Bangkok?

Just to finish the scorecard: I don’t do sex-tourism, I don’t buy from kids, and my only contact with orphanages is to channel donations directly to reputable institutions. I don’t try to change anyone’s religion (though I have been known to enquire about some of the apparent contractions in Buddhism). I obey the lights, I work afternoons, I leave the room to talk on the phone. So maybe I am a bit of an angel after all.

And one more thing. Can I claim to be role-modeling a questioning attitude, freedom of expression, an open society, by writing what I feel and opening myself up to criticism? I’m sure you’ll let me know.