TLR’s contribution to the Singapore Birthday Book 2019

Charity Reimagined

The Gift of Imagination

As a poor neighbourhood kid growing up without many toys, Ken would often sneak into his school hall in the afternoons and pretend to play the piano, trying to make sense of all the random sounds from the keyboard.
He still remembers today the burst of elation when somehow the jumbled keys produced a familiar chorus: the old Beatles tune “Imagine.” There was no cool intro or chord progression, nor did he really know what he was singing about, but the song’s invitation to imagine a more hopeful future was fascinating and empowering to a wide-eyed, dreaming kid.

As increasing drudgery adds layers of jadedness to society, we often wonder, have people lost our sense of wonder? Has society traded the courage to imagine a different future for the comforting insularity of the old?

Not that the “same old” is necessarily bad; what is now old was at one point new, when it departed from what was then old. Whether old or new, what is perhaps most relevant is that we are not only protecting what was imagined but pursuing what is being continually re-imagined. Our future will inexplicably drift towards apathy the moment we cease re-imagining it.

But lest we start to jump on each new bandwagon, re-imagining our future is not all about re-scripting something new. It is also about recognising and recovering what has been lost through uncontemplated, heedless drifts.

Examining Our Imaginations

We are all drawn to what is valuable. Being part of, or having ownership over, something rare and uncommon makes us feel special. Heirlooms passed down to the next generation are much cherished gifts.

But what if the precious diamonds we thought we were bequeathing turned out to be cheap zirconia substitutes, with little value to our kids? How would we know? Surely we need to personally examine what we value besides relying on what the marketplace sells us?

As Singaporean affluence continues to bulge in the middle, surpluses have become socially expected—necessities rather than luxuries. Singaporeans are donating financially and volunteering much more than ever before. Alas, Singapore has done exceedingly well indeed.

I say “Alas” because, as we merrily celebrate this philanthropic increase, we need to ask ourselves some probing questions. Could this visible increase be due to the gaping chasm between the haves and have-nots—the former with much more surplus now, the latter with much more need to receive?

As a society, our cultural mindsets have increasingly welcomed and embraced charities. Many donate freely and compassionately to multiple charitable causes—sometimes even without much thought to the causes themselves—from emptying coins into flag-day collection cans to making quickly forgotten automated GIRO deductions.

But I wonder, Could the increase in community donating be happening at the expense of decreased community sharing? After all, there is a vast difference between the two.

Donating versus Sharing

Donating comes from a position of abundance, a premise of having something extra to give. Our qualification to donate is based on our surplus: we give what we don’t need as much or even what we do not need anymore. The Salvation Army receives its largest number of donated items before festive periods, when people acquire new stuff and give away the old and used. One has to question if we are donating stuff simply as an alternative to throwing it away.

discards often seen below apartment blocks

If we give only what we would otherwise have thrown away, what does that speak of our generosity? If we would rather purchase spanking new toys for our kids instead of hand-me-downs, what does it say when we expect others to receive our old and used stuff? When we write cheques, could our generous willingness be subtly influenced by tax reductions and other perks to encourage giving?

How much of our increasing volunteerism is other- rather than self-centred; focused on our own gain in personal significance or Instagrammable curations of our public image?

When we donate, we instantly create a distance in power between donor and recipient. We say to the recipient, I have, you don’t, you are beholden to me as my beneficiary; your needs are a burden you depend on me to satisfy. I give what I can, when I can, but I will stop when my own needs are challenged.

When we share, however, we offer to another what we ourselves need, trusting that it will be more meaningfully used by someone with a greater need than we have. This closes the interpersonal gap and binds us to a common interest. We say to the recipient, I understand what you need; we are in the same boat. I offer to you what is precious to me; I share because I value you as a person more than the things I am sharing.

The mindset of a community that shares is not dependent on how much it has. When we have more, we have more to share. When we have little, we can still share what little we have. These interpersonal interactions are not dependent on gain, upward mobility or affluence. Sharing builds empathy and restores dignity to those in need: those who offer help in one area are likely to need it in another. We are both ready givers and equal recipients.

Donating is transactional; sharing is relational. Donating magnifies neediness; sharing amplifies relationships. Far beyond donating from our material surplus, sharing brings out what is intangibly valuable. We are offering our friendships, our compassion, our genuineness, our personal space, our personal time, ourselves.

A Little Experiment

Many years have passed since the day when that little, wide-eyed boy wondered “What if?” over a Beatles tune. Today, there is a piano gifted to our rented house, where many other boys and girls find their own safe space within which to reimagine their futures.

People often have many pragmatic questions when they hear about how we have, over the last 10 years, received homeless teenagers and young adults into our home and lives. We try to give freely what we have in the hope that their life scripts might be ameliorated through experiencing unconditional acceptance and nurture.

One of the most common questions we get is, “How do you sustain yourselves and the work you do with your children?”

We are not running an organisation and we are careful not to institutionalise our care for these young people; we care for each one as valuable members of our family, in our own home and out of our own pockets. Even though the expenses are high, we have never done any fundraising or sent out any appeals for donations.

Yet, we have experienced the miracle of community sharing.

Like-minded people interested in what we do are welcomed into our lives, to get to know us deeply as we also get to know them. Over many dinners and much coffee and tea, we exchange our hopes and aspirations for a common loving community.

Among this community of friends and family, everyone is free to unashamedly receive as well as joyfully give. There is no manipulation or pressure to hit numerical goals; we simply use whatever we pool together to care for as many as we can. We go beyond sharing physical resources; emotional and mental exchanges too are also freely shared. This is always something empowering: people begin to care not because they have to, but because they belong and want to.

Imagining a Sharing Community

What will our city look like if we start to value people not based on performance or output but based on seeing one another as integral parts of a collective?

Most of us are nett recipients of privileges—unearned and unmerited. We are in positions of privilege simply because providence has spared us from traumatic deprivation. Lest we start to assume we are inherently entitled, the reality is that each of us is but one crisis away from a total breakdown.

Instead of clinging to our rights and privileges like divine inheritances, what if we realise that we are intrinsically undeserving of our endowments? Would we then recognise that others are equally undeserving of their deprivation?

Beyond the rhetoric of what would it truly look like for our society to embody “One People, One Nation, One Singapore,” what would it look like when we give to one another not because we have much to spare, but because we genuinely care?

The question we face is not if we are able to share.
As we continue to reimagine our tomorrow, it asks us, Will we?