8 By the fourth day after
the October 2005 earthquake in northern Pakistan, the world had
woken up to the fact that something very big had happened. The
government was estimating that 50,000 or more people had been
injured or killed, and many survivors were likely trapped somewhere
without water or food. The reaction was immediate and life affirming.
Everyone showed up to help: international and local NGOs, the
United Nations, and groups of college students with rented trucks
full of food and other necessities. Money flowed in from everywhere.
The Indian government, reversing a policy of many years, announced
that it would open the highly sensitive border between the two
Kashmirs so that aid could flow more easily.
In the middle of all this excitement,
a small group of economists based primarily in the United States
started worrying about how the aid would get to the right people.
There were thousands of villages in the area, including some that
were a hike of six hours or more from the road. How would aid
workers find out which ones among these were badly hit? No one
seemed to know. To work efficiently, the workers would need a
map of the area with the geographic coordinates for all the villages—then
they would be able to figure out the distance between the villages
and the epicenter of the quake. But no one in Pakistan seemed
to have such a map, and no one in charge seemed to feel the need
for one. So the economists, Tahir Andhrabi of Pomona College;
Ali Cheema of Lahore University; Jishnu Das, Piet Buys, and Tara
Vishwanath of the World Bank; and Asim Khwaja of the Kennedy School
of Government at Harvard, set about finding one and making it
available.
Without such a map, there was an
obvious danger that most of the aid would end up in the villages
that were closer to the road, where the damage was more visible.
There would be places that no one among the aid givers had heard
of: who was going to get aid to them? To make matters worse, no
one was coordinating the hundreds of aid groups. No one was keeping
track of where the aid had reached and where it was yet to reach.
As a result, some villages were ending up with many trucks from
different donors while others were left waiting for their first
consignment.
Improving coordination would not
be hard, the economists realized. All that was needed was an office
or Web site to which everyone could report the names and locations
of the villages where they had sent aid and the amounts sent.
It would then be easy to build a database with reliable information
about where the next consignments should go.
So, with the help of some contacts
in the IT industry and some students at Lahore University, they
designed a simple form and approached donors with a simple request:
whenever you send out a consignment, please fill out one of these.
There were paper copies available as well as a Web-based form
and a call center.
The reaction, when it was not actually
hostile, tended to be derisive: “Are you mad? You to want
us to spend time filling out forms when people are dying? We need
to go and go fast.” Go where? the economists wanted to ask.
But nobody seemed to care.
The Edhi Foundation, perhaps the
most reputable Pakistani NGO, did not fill out a single form.
The United Nations team filled out a few. The Pakistani army corps
eventually agreed that the project was a good idea, but not before
rejecting it completely for several days. Many smaller NGOs were
eventually persuaded to join the effort, but the biggest players,
for the most part, went their own way.
* * *
In many ways this episode captures
very well one of the core problems with delivering aid: institutional
laziness. Here many of the standard problems were not an issue:
the donors and the intermediaries were both genuinely trying to
help. It is true that filling out forms is less gratifying than
handing out aid; but no one was trying to deprive the aid workers
of that moment of satisfaction. All they had to do was to wait
the extra few minutes it would take to fill out a simple form
and learn about where aid had reached and where it had not. But
no one could be bothered to put in the time it would have taken
to think harder about what they were doing. Aid thinking is lazy
thinking. . .
This article has become
a book!
To read more, buy it now here.
Abhijit Vinayak Banerjee
is the Ford Foundation Professor of Economics at MIT and a director of the Abdul Latif Jameel Poverty Action Lab.
Originally published in the July/August 2006 issue of Boston Review