how Cambodia changed my view of what "help" means.

There's an awfully interesting article in the Christian Science Monitor today about separating the personal from the professional as a journalist. The article focused mostly on Western reporters traveling to Africa and finding that comparatively small salaries in their home countries could change the lives of people in regions torn by civil unrest, ravaged by disease and natural disaster. Interestingly enough, the article highlighted points of view that differ from the traditional, purist journalistic mantra of 'staying uninvolved'. In fact, an ethics group leader at a journalism training institute is quoted in the article as saying that a journalist might even factor tips, donations, etc. into his/her budget:

"After discussing the issue with editors, reporters should 'begin with the premise that, in addition to paying your translators, you should expect to leave money, food, or other items behind for people you encounter.' If recipients are included in a reporter's story, however, the donation should be mentioned in the article - for transparency's sake.

"A major reason for this standard: 'If you operate under real strict boundaries that you absolutely can't help anyone, you create this crisis of conscience that will drive good reporters from the business,' she says, adding, 'I don't think you have to separate being human from being a reporter.'"[1]

It's weird. While I agree with the ethics teacher's sentiments about being both a human and a reporter, I had the reverse reaction to a piece that Nicholas Kristof wrote for the New York Times website some months ago, when he went to Cambodia and bought the freedom of two girl prostitutes. As a reader, I remember feeling like he'd abused some privileged position as a reporter. It was sentimental journalism, not news, and not even the kind of progress report on modern Cambodia that I believe he was there for in the first place. To Kristof's credit, he questioned his own journalistic ethics in the piece itself, and paid for the girls out of his own pocket. Nonetheless, I felt like his pity was misplaced, and therefore his money. (Click here for full list of Kristof's Cambodia articles, available only with Times Select access. boo.)

I've been to Cambodia. I've seen the girl prostitutes -- hair straight as pins, eyes heavy with liner, flashy clothes hugging curveless bodies -- and while I have never encountered the "helping" problem as a "journalist", giving the girls anything but my friendship felt inappropriate. During my stay in the country's capital Phnom Penh, however, one of my traveling partners took up with a teenaged prostitute called Malyna, who he had resolved by the end of the trip to marry and whisk back to his native Australia.

There was little in this plan that I could commend. Malyna was a prostitute by choice. She was not proud of it, and for some time told us that she worked at a karaoke bar instead of a taxi girl spot. But we found out that she made a great deal of money hanging out around billiards tables at a bar called Heart of Darkness, and most of it she sent home to her family in Sihanoukville anyway, where it was their main income. Malyna was self-sufficient in Cambodia, at the top of her game, competent and confident. She knew how to save money, where to eat, who to talk to, who would protect her. To remove her from this context -- what she knew as home, and where she knew what she was worth -- would only be doing harm. But my friend persisted with his fantasy of "saving her" and upon leaving Cambodia, he made a promise to Malyna that he'd be back for her. I never knew what became of either of them.

It must sound insensitive and isolationist of me to believe that perhaps Kristof, and my friend, should have left well enough alone. But I think my point is not that we shouldn't offer help, but we should do it in productive ways that wean these countries off of dependency. I don't work at an NGO and don't have much experience with policy other than what I read in the papers and on the internet, but I know there are other ways to "help". As the Christian Science Monitor's article rightly points out towards the end, contributions on the part of reporters, or on the part of laypeople traveling through, will not solve any long-term problems, and may often invite jealousy from peers not lucky enough to fall into the cast net of charity.

All that said, I'd probably feel differently if I were confronted with an assignment in a third world country, trying to extract information from sources who were in need of something other than my friendship.


** More from The Nation's on Kristof's Brothel Problem

Photo of boy at Tonle Sap from www.toddadams.net