Commercialisation of charity

Charity is undoubtedly a noble act. In Islam, helping those in need is strongly encouraged, but charity is fundamentally about sincerity and human dignity. It should not discriminate on the basis of caste, creed, ethnicity or social status.

Whether it provides education, healthcare, food, clothing or employment, its purpose should be to improve human life. The problem is not simply that photographs are taken. The problem is the commercialisation of compassion.

A poor child becomes the subject of a video, a homeless woman becomes social-media content, and a food distribution becomes promotional material. The more disturbing the image, the greater the emotional response - and potentially the greater the flow of donations.

In such circumstances, the poverty of others can become an asset for those collecting money. Such practices contradict the spirit of Islamic teachings. Islam emphasises giving without humiliating the recipient and encourages sincerity in charitable acts.

Publicly displaying someone's poverty can violate that dignity. Imagine how a person might feel when their hunger, worn-out clothes or desperate circumstances are displayed before thousands of strangers. The donor may receive praise, followers or donations, and the recipient is left with their humiliation permanently available online.

My experience during the Covid-19 pandemic also made me question how we understand poverty and charity. Not everyone asking for assistance was necessarily unable to work. A friend and I approached people on the streets and offered labour opportunities at a construction site to those who had lost their employment.

Only a few accepted the offer. Those who were willing to work were given Rs30,000 each to help meet their household expenses during the crisis. I encountered another shocking incident recently.

A man approached me for money to purchase medicines for his sick daughter and showed me a doctor's prescription paper. Feeling that he was genuinely in need, I purchased the medicines for him. Later, I saw him returning the medicines to the pharmacy in exchange for cash.

The pharmacist were not uncommon and that this was a daily practice. The same person would approach different people, telling them different stories and convincing them to purchase medicines for his supposedly ailing daughter. Once the person who had helped him left, he would return the medicines to the pharmacy and collect the money.

Such practices not only exploit people's generosity but also undermine trust in those who are genuinely in need. The criticism is directed at a growing culture in which charity itself becomes a form of publicity and, in some cases, a business model.

We must therefore rethink how we give. Instead of asking how many people saw our charitable act, we should ask how many lives were genuinely improved. Instead of displaying someone's helplessness, we should protect their dignity.

Instead of repeatedly providing poor-quality food and clothing, we should invest in education, healthcare, skills and employment. Most importantly, charity should empower people to become self-reliant wherever possible. The real test of charity is not the photograph, the banner, the number of followers or the amount of money collected.

It is whether the person we helped became less vulnerable, more secure, and more dignified. Perhaps we need to ask ourselves. Are we helping the poor because they need us, or are we displaying the poor because we need their suffering to prove our own goodness?