I''ve been speaking to groups of people in the U.S. since 1998, hoping to educate—or even enlighten—my fellow countrymen and women to the needs of the world, including our own. From these experiences, simplistically, I can sum up Americans into two groups: those who refuse to acknowledge guilt in the damage done to the earth and its people, and those who assume generational guilt and respond with Tourettes-like acts of benevolence that often cause harm.

Manuel Garcia Jr. said, in an article from the eZine, Counterpunch, "If ignorance is bliss, then America is paradise." ⁱ I know it's become a little too convenient to point the finger at Americans for much of what's wrong in the world, even if the tendency to do so is often justified. So, one might think it going a bit too far to talk about our guilty response as being another problem with which recipients of our do-goodism now have to contend. While I feel the majority of Americans remain apathetic to the violence and abuse caused predominately by our collective greed, I want to draw attention to a problem that stems from the well-intentioned but misguided need to right the wrongs of the world. The problem of American guilt and the harm done by compassionate people must be discussed and understood among missionaries, non-governmental organizations, philanthropists, and all well-meaning Americans.

With increasing regularity, I hear from my brothers and sisters, south of the border or across the great pond, that Americans need to stay home and take care of their own problems. It's not that we can't make a difference in the world and bring relief to those who suffer, but we tend to blunder into other cultures and communities as would a bull in a china shop, breaking as much as we mend. Our poor tendency to already have the answers—thereby rendering us unable to really listen, watch, and learn before we "fix"—has turned us into unwelcome guests in many places around the world.

There's also an arrogance with which we tend to address others, stemming from the presumption that we have all the answers and no needs of our own. Friends in Europe often cite the perception of Americans as belonging to a gun-wielding, likely-to-shoot-at-will society that's the most violent of the developed nations. Our eagerness to "do for" others smacks of ignorance of the dire needs in U.S. cities and on Native American reservations. In fact, most Americans I speak with can't believe that conditions comparable to those in underdeveloped nations exist in this country.

We're a large nation, bordered by only two countries and ocean water. While our port cities are teeming with international citizens and visitors, we're relatively insulated from other cultures and social customs. Our knowledge of people outside of our communities comes from books and magazines and, more influentially, TV and film. There's a human tendency to view other societies as defective, believing one's own to be the norm. For example, when a group of Americans sees an African village in need of clean water, the solution appears to be obvious. But many of these types of projects have ended in disaster, usually with charitable Americans feeling that their beneficiaries are ungrateful.

How?

In a society where women have very little power or equality, removing the well from the center of town takes away their opportunity for community, the sharing of ideas and, most importantly, the telling of stories. Indoor plumbing isolates these women even further and destroys the socialization on which they rely, thus having adverse affects on the community as a whole.

A presentation by Karina Schoengold and David Zilberman mentions the social implications of a water project in indigenous parts of the developing world. "The development of water projects in the last century has led to the displacement of 40 – 80 million people. Compensation for these forced changes has usually been minimal, if it occurs at all."ⁱⁱ

I recently met a woman, Mary Simat, who's Masai and lives in Kenya. Mary came from an extremely remote area of the East African country, has lived in poverty, suffered the childhood ritual of female genital mutilation (FGM), and was betrothed to be married at age eight. As girls are seen as dowry commodities (and, therefore, unworthy of education), her mother divorced her father so that Mary could get an education, and she eventually received a doctorate. She came to the UN to tell her story and advocate for the rights of Masai women. She's also the current chairperson working on the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. Mary believes strongly that her culture is rich and beautiful; but certain practices, such as FGM, should be stopped. She knows her once nomadic people are struggling to exist in a world that's increasingly closing in and in which they suffer from preventable diseases and a lack of education.

However, her most emphatic statements were against the organizations that sought to help her people. In her own words—which, spoken with intensity, caused a G-force-like wind to whip my face as I sat in the front row during her session at the UNCSW—she said:

Mary went on to explain that people at village level have no idea what the UN is, what "Millennium Developmental Goals" are, and are completely unaware of the laws that are supposed to protect them from violence and traditional practices like FGM. They have no access to the systems, equipment, and training needed to fulfill the requirements for assistance or expansion projects.

The network of NGOs and community development organizations are disconnected from the people they seek to serve. I've seen this in undeveloped countries as well as on Native American reservations and in urban areas in the U.S.. It's this disconnection and lack of communication that create gaps between the projects meant to aid communities and the people who comprise them. As a result, money, effort, and resources are often wasted.

Guilt isn't necessarily a bad thing; but when it's the driving agency of an effort, it can steer that effort off-course. Guilt serves a purpose; but if held onto, it becomes destructive. Guilt shouldn't lead us to search for fixes that keep us in control, but, rather, lead us to commit, first, to understanding the situation. Many years ago, I came to realize that most people are capable of transmitting information, but true communication requires creating awareness. Well-intentioned groups that come in and out of communities to fix things never will, unless there's a commitment to listen, learn, and build relationships.

Young adults fresh out of Bible College used to tell me, after hearing me speak about the conditions on reservations in the U.S., "I'm going to give a year of my life to helping native people." My answer became "Then don't bother." You either devote your life to something or do something else, and you don't impose your ideas on another unless you're invited to do so. Placing time conditions on service to others only sends the message that you're not interested in the people, themselves. Native Americans are well accustomed to waiting out missionaries; they know they'll eventually leave and have learned to not get their hopes up. It's now estimated that it takes approximately ten years for an Anglo to gain the trust of a Native community. At that point, progress can be made jointly towards tending to the needs of the community—only because the missionary becomes part of the community, and this should happen only if he or she is invited to do so. Imparting knowledge should come later because that knowledge will be weak unless there's direct input and decision making from within the community.

Successful projects have occurred. Relief and community development organizations that have achieved their goals have done so because those goals were decided upon in conjunction with people living in the communities.

The Cabeceras Project^iv has also established a sound philosophy which governs its work with a community:

As I'm working with women from NGOs addressing the issues of violence and poverty in the world, one woman's words have resonated with many of us. She has repeated a saying she'd always heard from her grandmother when the chores at hand were too overwhelming, "Start sweeping at your feet." Begin with what's in front of you—a person, a human being—and listen. Learn the fabric of the society, the unspoken norms and customs, and free your mind of assumptions, perceptions, and stereotypes. Listen first, always.

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Preconceived notions of a society can lead to responding inappropriately, albeit compassionately. Here are some guidelines from the Kaleidoscope Institute in L.A.^v:

And from the Education Abroad Office of Virginia Tech^vi, these helpful tools regarding perceptions of Americans were given to educate the students before they went overseas. Understanding these perceptions doesn't mean they're accurate, but it's important to know that they're misconceptions involving both parties.

People from other cultures may think that Americans are disrespectful because: