Top critical review
3.0 out of 5 starsA Farewell To Alms
Reviewed in the United States on March 17, 2006
Pity the World Bank economist. First he has to leave the World Bank (whether he leaves on his own account or not is not specified in the book) for saying disturbing things that nobody wants to hear. He then finds asylum at New York University, where he pursues his crusade in favor of rigorous independent evaluations of development programs. He sees his colleague Jeff Sachs from the UN get all the media attention (including the photo ops with Angelina Jolie) for saying precisely the things that he, Bill Easterly, has repeatedly proved wrong (p.50). He finds solace in exposing the contradictions of his fellow World Bank economists who, after stating that giving an estimate of aid needs is pointless, nevertheless pursue to give such estimate (p.182). But he knows deep inside that, whatever bright arguments economists may give, people will always prefer to listen to a badly shaven rock star who declares that "something must be done; anything must be done, whether it works or not" in order to "make poverty history." (p.17)
William Easterly writes an awful lot about himself. Throughout the book, we are introduced to his extended family: his dog Millie (p.225), his three kids (for whom the problem of attribution under asymmetric information can be illustrated by the boy farting in a crowded elevator, see p.172), his frontier ancestor (p.91) who engages a lawsuit against George Washington over a piece of land (guess who wins, albeit three generations later). He sprinkles the chapters with snapshots from his life: growing up in Bowling Green, Ohio, on a diet of Jell-O (p.74); writing his PhD on a NSF scholarship (p.198); driving over bumpy roads from Ghana to Pakistan (p.31); sleeping under a twin blanket with his partner messing with the heating control device (p.168); feeding his kids with a mix of overcooked spaghetti and Chinese deli (p.72); having the city council in Takoma Park, Maryland, fill potholes in front of his porch (p.166), etc, etc.
But The White Man's Burden is by no way autobiographic. In fact, this is a serious essay about the foreign aid system or "why the West's efforts to aid the Rest have done so much ill and so little good," as the lengthy subtitle indicates. The dirty little secret that Easterly exposes is that rich countries have spent 2.3 trillion dollars over the years to spur development in poor countries, with surprisingly little results to show for.
Meanwhile, every time a person starts paying attention to the issue, he writes a long report that invariably concludes with the need to double the existing amount of foreign aid. So the advisor to John F. Kennedy, Walt Rostow, called for doubling foreign aid back in 1960. World Bank president Robert McNamara also called for doubling it in 1973. The World Bank again called for doubling with the end of the Cold War and the "peace dividend" back in 1990. There was a lot of campaigning last year by people like Jeffrey Sachs, Tony Blair and Gordon Brown for doubling foreign aid in 2005 and the G8 actually did agree to double foreign aid to Africa. And even George W. Bush is increasing US aid by 50 percent. Now a fifty percent increase seems to be less ambitious than a doubling of aid; but the White House staff explained to the author that the President thought 50 percent was double. So this actually does fit the picture.
The problem for Easterly is that aid debates are dominated by wishy-washy do-gooders that are not accountable for the promises they make, while the good doers know what works on the ground but cannot make their voices heard. He calls the firsts `Planners' and the second `Searchers'. In his own words:
"In foreign aid, Planners announce good intentions but don't motivate anyone to carry them out; Searchers find things that work and get some reward. Planners raise expectations but take no responsibility for meeting them; Searchers accept responsibility for their actions. Planners determine what to supply; Searchers find out what is in demand. Planners apply global blueprints; Searchers adapt to local conditions. Planners at the top lack knowledge of the bottom; Searchers find out what the reality is at the bottom. Planners never hear whether the planned got what it needed; Searchers find out if the customer is satisfied.
Which by the way reminds me of the old limerick:
A planner is a gentle man,
with neither sword nor pistol.
He walks along most daintily,
because his balls are crystal.
Frankly I was disappointed by the book and that is why I give it only three stars. It is a kind of Paradise Lost, a farewell to alms-giving by a former believer who broods over the loss of his illusions but offers very little in terms of workable alternatives. My sincere wish is that he will come over his mourning and start enjoying life again. And my practical advice is that next time he shares a heating blanket with a partner in a cold night, instead of fussing individually with the dual control device, talk to each other and work things out.
