By jarrett stevens
May 5, 2010
People everywhere are waking up to the new (old) idea of justice and compassion. This is not news to you. Our continued global connectivity has led to a new sort of global awareness that is in some part affecting not only what we do, but how we do it. Need is becoming known (even if it’s not fully understood). People want to get “involved” more and more. Compassion-based organizations are popping up at an accelerated rate. It’s as though it’s officially cool to care. As a friend of mine often says, “Kids don’t start bands anymore, they start 501(c)(3)s.”
The aspect of this new awareness that’s most interesting to me, however, is the way that Compassion 2.0 is mashing up with Consumerism 1.0. As more and more younger cats get their not-for-profits off the ground, the more smart, savvy and saturated they are with the power and magnetism of marketing and consumerism.
I believe we are stumbling into a new age of activism. We’ll call it: “Compassionism.” It’s the way we’ve created of doing good while still consuming goods. It’s a brilliant and subtle strategy (whether conscious or otherwise) to get people to do what they want to do, but are for whatever reason not doing. In other words, if you want people to give … give them something. Compassionism in its current form is the absolute encapsulation of the best and worst of globalization.
In this era of compassionism, it’s the organizations with the best design and the coolest products that draw the most attention and rally the most followers … and have some of the greatest potential to do the most good.
We can see this already through the first physical manifestation of the Age of Compassionism—“aWEARness.” Let’s be honest, compassion has typically lacked a certain sense of fashion. Those late-night commercials with b-list celebrities from the ‘80s just aren’t cool enough to hook you. You have always known that poverty, hunger, slavery and oppression are wrong, but it didn’t catch your sense of coolness or your longing to belong until Brad said it, or Chris wrote it on his hand, or Gap put it on a red hoodie.
We are learning now what they already knew: the causes with the coolest shirts, hippest shoes, freshest buttons or conscience-easing-conflict-free bags are the ones “we” will be most interested in. If “I” see that “we” are all wearing this shirt, I will get one, not because I am interested in that cause, but because I am interested in fitting in. Suddenly (quite simultaneously), your acceptance is connected to your awareness and your awareness is connected to your acceptance.
In other words, you buy the shoes to get “in,” then once you’re “in” you are connected to a small group of people who actually care about the cause behind the consumerism. Your exposure to them may in turn lead to greater exposure to whatever cause or issue your product is originally connected to. Because someone gave you something for giving something, you may actually give more down the road.
Sound a little shallow? Maybe. But maybe not. Because at least now people are getting exposure to issues they previously had little to no exposure to or interest in. The cause becomes that much closer than it was before. The cause is now a reminder in your room, on your floor, on your car. The longer it’s around you, the greater potential it has of getting “in” you—aWEARness may eventually lead to awareness, which may in time actually lead to action. If that process does in fact happen, then it would most definitely make that $20 T-shirt worth every penny.
In this age of compassionism, there’s nothing inherently wrong with wanting to belong, to fit in—that’s human nature. There’s nothing inherently wrong with shirts, shoes and bags. There is nothing inherently wrong with good deeds having good design. There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of that … there’s just more.
What if, instead of settling for and perpetuating a culture of aWEARness and compassionism, we raise the stakes a little bit? How can we help the millions of people who own the shirt, shoe or bag begin to own the cause it represents?
I would like to offer a few thoughts and opportunities on how we can help compassion get beyond simply fashion:
- What if we only gave away shirts to people who go to or get involved with wherever or whatever it is the shirt is supposed to represent. Seriously. Have the best designers in the world make a limited run of 100 shirts, or hats, or fanny packs that you get for free when you actually go. Whether it means walking the dusty desolate streets of El Salvador, or feeding displaced families in northern Uganda or volunteering every Saturday night at a suicide prevention center. Turn a $15 shirt into 15 hours or, even better, 15 days and that shirt will mean a whole world of difference more to me.
- To get one of those beautiful bags, pair of earrings or bracelets made by women and children rescued out of human trafficking, you have to actually go and spend a week making them. Go and give that recently rescued sex slave a day off and you make the conflict-free jewelry that day. Go and be with her, hear her story, make her dinner, watch her children for one day. Then you would really have a story!
- Make micro-lending sexy. Make it hip. Kiva has been killing it here. They’ve raised more money than almost any other “established” nonprofit last year without spending any significant money on traditional marketing, advertising or fund raising. Heifer International is an incredible organization that has been plugging away for years at this. But my hunch is you probably don’t have a Heifer T-shirt. (I’m pretty sure Heifer doesn’t make T-shirts. But if they did, they would be made out of the finest most breathable yak hair available.)
These are just a few thoughts on how we can move through our current culture of aWEARness and compassionism. These are not cynical naysayings, but a sincere and heartfelt desire to see my own compassion transcend my consumerism. To join with what God is actually already doing in the world beyond my closet.