Ceci n'est pas une endive - Tag - understanding people

What Is Your Single Story?

notafish — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 13:32:00 +0100

A few weeks ago, I watched a fantastic talk by Chimamanda Adichie about "The Danger of A Single Story". The talk is a year old, but the message is ageless. It made me think about what my stories of "single stories" are. I have a few, actually, here is one that particularly struck me.

When I left for the US in 1987, I was hosted in an American family for a night. My English at the time was rather bad, not to say inexistant, and I struggled trying to understand what was going on around me. The family had taken me and another girl, K., to host us for the night, while waiting for the schoolbus to come and get us in Albuquerque. It was a family of 4, with two daughters, one our age (I was 15, K. was 16 or 17 at the time and I think the daughter was 16). K. was from Bulgaria. I was, obviously, from France. The 16-year old daughter was somehow studying Eastern Europe (or had a strong interest in it) and was thrilled at the idea of having a Bulgarian (remember, this is 1987) in her house. She didn't seem to give a damn about France, which was great, because she kept on asking K. questions about her country, and left me alone. Given that we both had been travelling around 18 hours, and my English being what it was, I could only feel for K. who was being bombarded with questions about Eastern Europe. Anyway. In the course of the conversation, the girl turned to me and asked me "Is there electricity in France". I had to rub my eyes (red from lack of sleep) and make sure I had understood the question before I could answer a feeble... "yes". No words to argue, the question was so out of line from someone who had been debating the whys and whens and hows of Eastern Europe, that I was just left completely dumbstruck by the enormity of it. Off we went to sleep. The day after, the daughter took us to a Safeway (one of those big American supermarkets). I still remember K.'s wide open eyes who was, it seems, rather amazed at the display of so much "stuff" in one place. The American girl turned to me with a smug smile and asked "Do you have that in France?". I mastered the best English I could and answered "Bigger ones".

This girl had a single story. She was studying Eastern Europe and for her, Europe was that. The rest of Europe may have been a Middle-Age kind of place, without electricity or supermarkets. She didn't know. I wasn't at all knowledgeable on Eastern Europe (but kind of had an idea), and was amazed at the hundreds of questions she asked K. because I couldn't have asked such questions. But those she asked me were just... weird, she had no perspective.

It is interesting so many years after to be able to frame what was one of my first culture shocks ever. I can only urge you to watch the video. It's fun, and it's so true. And I'm curious, what is Your single story?

Culture Comfort Zone

notafish — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 18:29:00 +0200

I've just read this post at interculturaltalk.org and it reminded me of something that has bothered me for the longest time.

For as long as I can remember, I've always felt some kind of guilt pang to see someone in the street and that the first thing I notice is their skin color, the shape of their eyes, or anything that would hint at their cultural background. I guess that calls for a discomfort zone rather than a comfort zone. The thing is, every time I've felt guilty, I've wanted to slap myself for feeling guilty, because I think that the feeling guilty is the worst part of it.

Noticing a difference is not the problem. The problem is all the heavy stuff that's tied to that difference and not being able to look at that difference without all the heavy stuff sinking in. I wish I was raised in a world where I never had to hear about Apartheid, Slavery, Immigration, Religious Oppression, Unemployment, Holocaust et al..

I remember the 6-year old daughter of my English teacher being brought up in an environment with 200 people from 80 different countries, telling her mother that this guy dropped by to talk and trying to describe him. She described his clothes, his height, his voice, and never thought one second to say he was black. I guess the comfort zone depends on where and how you're brought up.

My Very First Culture Shock

notafish — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 12:17:00 +0200

I remember one of my first culture shocks very vividly. I probably had others before, but this one was the start of a long series, and most importantly the first I actually recalled over time.

I arrived in the US for a 2-year stay at the age of 15.So here I am, on evening in Albuquerque, New Mexico, landing in a strange country, invited to stay for the night with a "native" family.

I'll pass with the first shock of seeing 4 cars in the driveway and go directly to the greeting part. The family was a family of 4 people, parents and 2 teenagers. One of them a girl around my age. At the time, I used to kiss-on-the-cheek anyone my age, as is the custom in France. The "bise" as we call it, is a very normal greeting custom. Upon arrival, I shake the parents' hands, gathering my best English (probably close to 0) to say hello, and I go to kiss the girl on the cheek. She looks at me horrified and pushes me back before I get to her cheek. It was probably the first time anyone showed their disgust so strongly towards me. Or at least what I interepreted as disgust then, I didn't know better.

I don't think I thought about it much, until the day after, when we said good-bye. I had made the mistake once, I was not going to do it twice, so I kind of stood there, expectant, waiting for something to happen. And that's where the whole family, parents and teenagers included, started to hug me. And that's where I pushed them away, not exactly understanding that they would not allow a kiss on the cheek the day before, and suddenly would take me in their arms as if we'd known each other for ever the day after.

Since then, I learned the power of a hug and have been using it profusely, even in France, where it played a few tricks on me, I must admit. Starting a few months later, when I came back for Christmas that same year andI went to hug my sister. Whe pushed me back with disgust and kissed me on the cheek...

Greetings are, I find, one of the most difficult cultural interactions. In theory, I guess they should be a very simple thing, one human greeting another. In practice, the variations are so wide that they can hinder future interaction by not following the proper standards and procedures. Something to be aware of, always, so as to work on the first impression.

I Am Not One of Them

notafish — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 10:44:00 +0200

Via Olivier, in Ici & Ailleurs, I discovered La lanterne brisée some time ago. And the first post I read was one called Regards, which means Looks (as in gaze, not as in what you look like). I won't translate the whole cartoon, but know that basically, the main character (the author) is in Japan and wonders why everyone there looks at her in a funny way. Is it how tall she is? Or her clothes? Something else? That's for the French part, the rest is in English, you don't need me to translate).

This cartoon reminds me of a class I had ten and some years ago, for which we had to write an essay. The class was called "American Culture" and was taught by an American woman. She gave us, I found, a very interesting insight into American culture. I recall some speciific themes she tackled, such as her vision of the right to have a weapon on which she gave a historical explanation (a right entrenched in the Constitution). She was all in all a very interesting teacher. But poor her, she also was American. I say poor her although I must say that until she actually asked us to write this essay, everybody in the class had been rather nice and polite. Some debate had occurred, but nothing out of hand or out of place.

The essay she asked the class to write was rather straightforward. It went: "How has this class changed your vision of the United States". A bit dangerous I guess, but we were in post-graduate degree, so one could argue that we were smart enough to write some constructive criticism. As usual, I postponed my writing to the last minute, which gave me the opportunity to read a few of the others' essays. I was simply appalled at the tone in which some of these essays were written, basically saying that this class had not changed their mind about the United States (which is a legitimate point of view) but also basically saying that the US were a terrible country which deseved its sad fate of recrudescing violence and overwhelming Mc Donalds. In short, the essays were saying that not only the class had not helped, but that the US were beyond help. Although I personally did not agree with all of this teacher's ideas and explanations, I was at least convinced that her approach was the right one, trying to find explanations for cultural behaviours and tryign to share them with a class. She made lots of efforts and did bring some interesting lights on the US culture.

What shocked me most was the utter lack of respect of this process shown by my fellow classmates. To them, she seemed to be guilty of being an American and as such, guilty of trying to find an excuse for everything "we don't like about the US" under some sort of covert agenda destined to brainwash the masses into "America is beautiful". Well. I lived in the United States for 2 years and yes, beautiful things, as well as terrible things make that country and make it a rich and amazing country to observe and learn to know.

But I guess what I learned that was most important is that wherever you come from, trying to defend your own country is probably a mistake, as you will most of the times be taxed of controversial bias. It is easier for me to defend the United States, having lived there, having been there so many times, than it will ever be for an American, regardless of their travel and living history. I was ashamed of my French classmates and wrote a somewhat funky weird essay which tried to balance it all and which you can read here. It is very conceited (*I am different!*), but I think it still carries the point I want to make today, namely that ignorance is not the best companion for constructive criticism.

Distance to Power, Somewhere in the Middle

notafish — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 16:05:00 +0200

One of the book that sits on my night stand in the pile "to read" is a book by Geert Hofstede, called Cultures and Organizations, Intercultural Coorperation and its Importance for Survival. Hofstede is one of the most invoked gurus of intercultural communication, and although I yet have to read the book, I have already been in contact with his theory, one pillar of which is the subject of this post.

Hofstede measures differences in cultures using 4 different scales. Power Distance, Individualism, Masculinity and Uncertainty Avoidance. I had never until recently paid much atttention to those in my own backyard (it is always easier to point out these things in others) but the organisation of the Wikimania conference did bring me face to face with the very real differences in Power Distance in my work environment.

I work for an American-based organisation. Although it is not "per se" exclusively American, it draws most of its work structures from the American way of management, a structure where the distance to power is rather small. The wiki-culture which underlies some of the work behaviours in the organisation is also a very flat kind of structure, where people, regardless of their place in society, their educational background or their age are considered at the same level. As such, Wikimania (the International Wikimedia Conference) leaves a lot for volunteers of all horizons to organize, whether it is the program of the conference or various other aspects, such as promotional material or speakers invitations.

This year, Wikimania took place in Alexandria, Egypt, in partnership with the Library of Alexandria. And working with Egypt brought about a challenge that I did not expect, that of dealing with a very different structure of Power Distance. As mentionned, Wikimedia (the organisation) is a rather flat structure, it is easy for staff to talk to their bosses and vice-versa, and rapidity and rationality of communication often prevails over following tortuous (or even straight) hierarchical paths. The Egyptian culture, on the other hand, has a very big distance to power. Which means that people at the top of the hierarchy issue very clear directives, while people at the bottom of the hierarchical scale will not act without approval from "above". The French Power Distance index is somewhere in the middle, more distant than the US, but flatter than the Egyptian ^[1] .

This made for an extremely interesting constellation in exchanges between the wiki-based (and/or American) team, the local Egyptian team and myself. As a French, I was often torn between the understanding I had of the Egyptian need to refer to authority before making any kind of decision, while at the same time having to deal with the fact that Egyptians had trouble understanding why some people were empowered to make decisions without a title that would confer them this authority, or without any other mandate than the one they had given themselves. I realized how strongly my culture played a role in interacting with all parties.

After having analyzed both sides' expectations, it was rather easy for me to act with each side as they expected, but I found it extremely difficult to be the person in the middle, and to convey the culture differences which should have been respected. With Egyptians, it was very unnatural for me to try and flatten the relationships as would be expected in the culture of the organisation of Wikimania. With wiki-based and/or Americans, it was very unnatural for me to try and convey the existence of power distance necessary to understand relationships with the Egyptian locals.

Of course, this is a generalization of what happened in the organisation of this conference, as it is extremely difficult to put people in one or the other category, but it showed me how entrenched some of my cultural traits are, and how difficult it is, if you find yourself halfway between two diametrically opposed cultures, to try and bridge the gap, no matter how well you understand both cultures.

Notes

[1] See the different indexes on this table, where Arab countries have a Power Distance Index of 80, France of 68 and the US of 40

When it comes to roots

notafish — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 15:04:00 +0200

The last few weeks have been hectic, as I was working on the 4th annual Wikimedia conference, Wikimania. It happened this year in Egypt, in Alexandria. And it took all of my time for the past two months.

So although I gave a glimpse of my Egyptian travels, I never got to write about the most important thing that happened to me in Egypt. Maybe because that thing is a thing of the heart rather than the mind, and it takes a long time to process, or better, it's harder to put into words. Now here I am, sitting back at home, looking back at the past few weeks.

Alexandria, as I explained, stretches along the Mediterranean, white city against blue skies, full of life and bustling with noises. It is a city with a heart and the Egyptians are simply amazing people. In the time I spent there, I was overwhelmed with a warmth I have seldom felt anywhere while being a "tourist" or rather, a "foreigner".

To try and put things in perspective, I have to go back on another case of being a foreigner. About ten years ago, while as was living in green Austria, I left for a few days to go to Italy. Arriving in Italy, I suddenly felt as aif a wieght had been lifted from my mind and heart, it was the first time of my life that I felt so strongly about my Southern roots. I attributed it to the latiness of Italy in contrast with the Germanic-ness of Austria.

There are few countries where I have really felt at home. France of course, Italy is definitely next on the list. Germany today is home, but it does not feel like home (maybe I should write about this some day). And to my greatest surprise, Egypt was one of those "feels like home" countries. Of course the language and some parts of the culture are foreign to me. But the heart feels right. Maybe because of shared Mediterranean roots. Most of the Egyptians I have met, those who took care of me and showed me their country, shared their culture, whether by walking in the streets or sitting for breakfast in a local restaurant are simply incredible people.

When it comes to experiencing the Arab world, I have been to Marrocco and Tunisia, albeit very shortly in Tunisia, and although both countries are still very much impregnated with French, and communication is somewhat easier, I did not experience the same well-being as I did in Egypt.

I am a bit stuck with words to describe it. Maybe it is the constant smiles, direct from the heart, maybe it is just some strange recognition of common qualities that are inherited with the sun. Maybe it is simply a fluke, some unexpected but real turn of chance that allows for understanding and agreement. Shared insights, shared values, which place the human experience before everything else.

It was hot, I hate hot. It was warm, I loved that warmth. I know that amongst the craziness of organizing a conference, I have made friends, friends who have impressed me with their honesty, their dedication and their truth. Friendships I will cherish across borders, seas and times.

Addressing an International Audience

notafish — Mon, 19 May 2008 11:52:00 +0200

Last Friday, I attended the Going Solo conference in Lausanne, a one-day conference for freelancers. I was very impressed with the quality of the speakers and of course, I tried and observed the cultural bias/questions/issues that came up. Here is a little rundown of the things I noticed.

I consider myself a pretty good measure of the level of English. As a non-native English speaker having learned English in the US, but in an international setting, I tend to understand many accents and idiomatic expressions. However, when I don't understand, I have found that there is a good chance that other non-native speakers won't understand either. The audience was a very international audience, among which many French speakers. I would say that overall the English in the talks was of a very acceptable level for us foreigners, easy and clear, with maybe just a few lines that you can't pick up. That's for the language. But the interesting part is not so much the level of the language itself, but rather the illustrations used by the speakers, their metaphors and their examples.

The first talk of the day was given by Laura Fitton, and I found it a very inspiring talk ^[1]. Up to the conclusion, which was supported a slide reading "Surrender Dorothy". Laura used it to illustrate the fact that we should "give up control". However, if slides are a visual support to a presentation, this one failed to talk to some of us. "Surrender Dorothy" comes from The Wizard of Oz, a movie probably all Americans have seen (along with It's a Wonderful Life, I suppose). A movie too few non-Americans or non-English speakers have grown up with for them to understand the image. I asked Laura what the reference was. Which she explained. Thanks.

Later in the questions session, Laura gave another culturally bound example, explaining how she got her father to care about blogs by getting him to read his favorite baseball player's blog. She quickly realized that the example did not carry the weight she had intended at first, as the audience, very mainly European, was trying to get a clue as to who the Redsox were (I personally get confused with American Football and Baseball teams!) and had to walk us through her example again, with explaining who the Redsox were, who the basebal player was, much more than she would have had to do with an American audience. The interesting part being that where in the heat of the presentation Laura did not pick up on people not getting the Wizard of Oz connection, she picked up very quickly on the baseball stuff. Attentive to her audience indeed, I appreciated that.

What I find confirmed by these examples is that as soon as we address an international audience, we probaby should test (as far as it is possible, of course) our illustrations for anything people might simply overlook, or worse, plainly not understand. As soon as we're using references that are strongly tainted culturally, to reinforce a point we're trying to make, it becomes much harder to be sure that they are universal enough for the audience to pick up on them. Laura illustrated that issue with the example of the talk she gave in India, and discovering before her talk that she had to refocus her presentation because her audience in reality was very different from what it was on paper. Too often we forget that things that are very obvious to us might not come across borders and oceans.

Notes

[1] read the excellent notes taken by Suw Charman-Anderson

Truly multilingual

notafish — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 23:35:00 +0200

Our neighbours are what one would call a really truly multilingual family. The mother is Swedish, the father is Italian. Together they speak English. The kids speak Swedish with their mother, Italian with their father. They lived the first years of their life in Switzerland, which means the children speak "Swiss German" (believe me, it's as far from German as Chinese from English) , They now live in Germany, so everyone is learning "High German" (Hochdeutsch, the "clean" German), and the kids are in an international school where English is the primary language, practicing the English they've picked up from their parents. In short, you have 3 kids aged 8, 6 and 3 who understand and speak 4 languages, 4 languages that their parents don't even all master.

Apart from the amazing-ness of it, I found it to be truly encouraging, to see that kids that young could simply pick up all those languages and feel at ease in any of them. We had coffee one afternoon and the kids indifferently spoke German or English with us, while conversing with their parents in Italian and Swedish.

I can't wait to ask my daughter questions about what it is like to learn more than one language at once. Although I now speak and understand four foreign languages myself, albeit at different levels, I learned them once my French was already there, meaning that gender, concepts and thought structure were already shaped in my mother tongue. I am especially interested in trying to understand what it feels like having different words for a same "thing" especially when those words convey different impressions or feelings, such as different genders for example. It'll be interesting, for sure.

The language before the language

notafish — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 13:49:00 +0100

I am still reading the book about bilingualism and before I write a more detailled review about it, I wanted to share my last experiences in terms of communication and languages. As you may know, or not, we had a baby. Emma was born a few weeks ago and I must say that the greatest challenge her father and I have been facing since she was born is not so much the short nights (although those are real), as it is understanding her.

At first, a baby's language is binary. Either she cries, or she doesn't. After a few weeks, there are some notions in between, but it is really not that different. The challenge thus resides in understanding the cries. Why on earth is she crying? Is it hunger? Pain? A way to communicate? Fear? Trying to practice her singing? Well, it can be all of those and more. Her cries can mean a number of things, all different. How many times in the course of the past weeks have we looked at her right in the eye and asked What exactly are you trying to tell us here?. A million times already, I believe. And she does not answer. At least not in so many words.

So we have been forced to develop a finer understanding of her language. Mind you, it is interesting to note that babies don't "cry", as in they don't really go with the tears and such. They cry, as in 'shout' or yell, or "express themselves loudly.".The actual tear part comes up seldomly and it's rather the result of intense crying than a part of the crying altogether. This is the first clue as to why the baby is crying. If she sheds tears, it is usually pretty serious. As such, it comes with stomach aches for example, or terrible hunger.

With time, here are the clues we've been able to gather, the signs we're looking for to decode her language.

The length of the cries: is it a steady cry? then she's probably hungry. A more intermittent cry? Then she's probably uncomfortable (gas, diapers need to be changed...)
The intensity of the cries. Is it really loud? Then she means business. Rather a puppy-like yapping? Then she's warning you that this might get more serious.
The color of her skin and her breathing. Is she getting really red as she cries, and holds her breath? Then she's frustrated and unhappy. Keeping her milk-like complexion? Then she's rather asking for some conversation (I swear, babies sometimes ask you to talk with them).
Observe body language. If she folds and unfolds her legs, she might be experiencing digestion problems. If she's sucking her thumb like crazy, she's probably hungry.

All in all, with a little practice, I would say one learns to decipher most of the baby's needs by observing and listening closely. It is, if nothing else, a great exercise in observation and taking into account other things than just words, something we probably should be doing in our everyday life more often, so as to make sure we understand not only the words, but also the environment surrounding them. Looking at people's body language, analyzing the tone of their voice, understanding whether they are anxious, angry or happy probably goes a long way to help us understand what they are really saying. A lesson in communication. And she's 2 months old!

The Credit Card Hell

notafish — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 13:34:00 +0100

I have already tackled one of the aspects that sometimes makes me think that Germany is a backwards country. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's an OK backwards country, but there are a few things that just drive me nuts. One of those is the fact that having a credit card in Germany is like owning a useless piece of plastic.

Some will tell me that credit cards *are* in any case, a useless piece of plastic. But seriously, how can a country like Germany still not have taken the necessary steps to be tourist compliant? I just don't get it.

I know France is rather advanced in the plastic-money business, as are the US. But I have been travelling all over Europe, and Germany strikes me really as the most backwards country when it comes to using credit cards. Actually, even when it comes to using paying cards, period.

Let's try a desciption here.

On my French account, I have a debit card which *also* acts as a credit card (VISA), In French, it's called a Carte Bleue (blue card). With one bank account, I can have just one card, which acts both as a debit and credit card. I pay a monthly fee to hold that card, depending on the level of automnomy, credit and other things I want with that card. I can use it in France of course, but also everywhere in the world where Visa is accepted. I use it to withdraw cash in France as well as anywhere else. The fees on payments made with that card around the world are about 2%, I can withdraw cash everywhere for a small change fee, and I can withdraw cash in France or in the euro zone for no fee (up to 5 withdrawals a month not at my bank). The payments made with that card are withdrawn either right on the spot or at the end of the month, depending on the specificities of my contract.

On my German account, I have a Maestro card (called EC Karte) which works *only* as a debit card. I also have a credit card (in this case a Mastercard), which is a separate piece of plastic. I can use my EC-Karte to withdraw cash, however, if I use a different ATM than that of my bank (Naspa) or - fortunately- of all Sparkassen I immediately pay a fee of 5 euros to withdraw cash. Fee which I pay automatically as soon as I withdraw money anywhere else than Germany. It's worse with my credit card, the fee is 5 to 8 euros to use an ATM for cash *anywhere*, even in Germany. The payments made with my EC-Karte are withdrawn on the spot, the payments made with my credit card are withdrawn at the end of the month, with a change fee for international payments. I pay a monthly fee to hold that card.

This already shows you the differences. One card, little fee on the one hand, two cards, outrageous fees on the other hand. But that wouldn't be so bad if you could actually *use* those two cards. Well, in Germany, you can't. Or you hardly can.

It first struck me while standing in line at a Mediamarkt. There was a guy in front of me who bought a computer, something around 1000 euros altogether. And he was paying it with cash. As I was looking at the bills line up on the counter, I couldn't believe that anyone would

carry so much cash on them
even bother to collect and count the cash for such a sum.

But there it was, in front of me. And that is where I realized that Mediamarkt does not take credit cards. I mean, they take EC-Karte, but they don't take credit cards. Which basically means, if you're in Germany just when the last iPod comes out and you can't wait and want it right away, either you got a German account, or you gotta have the cash. Don't even dream of arriving with your Visa or Mastercard or American Express, all gold and international. You'll get a polite "we don't take credit cards". Punkt, Ende, aus. And guess what. IKEA does the same. "No credit cards". I find that, as a French who travels all the time, completely incongruous. Actually, I find that insane. I mean, I could understand that the little shop around the corner does not take credit cards, but for Heaven's sake, Mediamarkt and IKEA? I mean, it's not like you're going to IKEA to buy for much less than a 100 euros. And you usually come out of Mediamarkt with at least the same amount woth of wares.

Now, I've been in Germany two years, so although it still drives me nuts, I am getting used to it. But two days ago, I found reason to get mad again. I went to Mc Donalds. A huge, big enormous Mc Donalds, open 24/7, so full that you never find a place to park. And I didn't have any cash. And when I don't have cash in this country, I don't feel good (because I know that cards are seldom accepted), but I thought, come on, Mc Donalds, American imperialism, blablabla, surely they take credit cards. Still. I asked. Well guess what, they don't. But worse, it's not only that they don't take credit cards. They don't take cards at all. Only cash. Cash only. You'd think that given the number of tourists who end up in a Mc Donalds, Mc Donalds would make an exception.

But no. The German economy is shaped for Germans. No-one else. Tourists go home, because we won't adapt to your ways. I find this credit card no man's land totally unfriendly. You can't go to Mc Donalds, you can't go to a restaurant, drink a coffee, you can't go to a supermarket, you can't pay for all these things with a supposedly "international means of payment". If you're not German and have the right EC-Karte, or don't carry bills and coins in your pocket, you're doomed. For someone like me, brought up to carry around as little cash as possible, it's hell. Surely there is a reason behind this. But I don't get it. One day I might investigate.

On the other hand, you can pay with a credit card for a Twix in pretty much any gas station across the country. Go figure.

Ah and I almost forgot. McDonalds is having their annual game thing with Monopoly. Guess who's one of the main partners for the prizes? VISA! What a joke.

Put your money where your mind is, not where we tell you to

notafish — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 10:56:00 +0100

Dear potential donor, small or big, individual or corporate,

I am hoping that through this long post (I promise, I tried to trim it down) I can make light on one of the intriguing (at least to me) aspects of this fundraiser and tackle the purpose of this blog, i.e. “why give?”. I was wondering if all of you out there felt comfortable donating, if we had achieved our goal of talking to you.

I am French. Now, this is a trivial piece of information, but it is important for this post. I live in Germany, and work for an American organisation. As chapters coordinator of the Wikimedia Foundation, I get to meet and talk to people who have very different viewpoints from mine, especially when it comes to organisational matters. Which in a way, makes a lot of sense, because I work in a realm where culture (that of association, that of non-profit) plays an immense role.

So when looking at the message the organisation I work for is sending out there to ask for money, I look at it with my French-living-in-Germany-working-for-an-American-organisation glasses. And I’m sorry, but I have to ask myself whether we are delivering the right message for all. I mean, what about you, dear potential donor, does that message speak to you? What would make you give?

If I look at the reasons to give that we find on the donation web-page, they’re the following:

If you and 99 other people donate…

* $200 – We can make Wikipedia available in developing countries through DVDs, books and pamphlets.
* $100 – We can pay for two Wikipedia Academy events in Africa.
* $60 – We can send three students to our annual Wikimania conference.
* $40 – We can deliver 100 million pageviews of free information!

So let’s go and look at what your options are.

Wikipedia in developing countries: where and when do we start, when and where do we stop?

Now, these are all correct statements. With $20 000, the Foundation could make sure that projects are run which aim at developing offline solutions to distribute Wikipedia in countries where surfing the internet is not an easy thing. Trick is, I am personally not a big fan of shoving Wikipedia at the head of people who have hardly surfed before and therefore have no idea what the process behind Wikipedia is. Do the “poor children in developing countries” really need to know everything about Pokemon or every single Harry Potter character in English? And more important, do they need that before they actually get their hands on a really NPOV (Neutral Point of View) article about the history of their country in the language they speak everyday? I am really not sure about this.

I am French remember? We French have a long history of colonization. And probably some kind of a guilt feeling about it. Colonization=BadPeopleTramplingOnGoodPeoplesTerritory (™). Now, it’s a simplistic way of putting it, but fact is, I don’t like the idea that anyone imposes their way of thinking, living, eating or surfing the web to anyone else. So I’m not a big fan of exporting Wikipedia just like that to developing countries. It takes teachers, it takes time. It should not happen overnight. And if it does happen, it should happen through people who have experience with that kind of stuff, actually, it already does. As for Wikimedia, my take is that we will be ready to do this in 5 years. And do it well, because we will have developed the right partnerships. Today, we’re just starting. I believe it’s a long term goal, not a today thing.

Pay for Wikipedia Academies: right, but why in Africa?

That's your second option. Wikipedia Academy is a cool concept developped by Wikimedia Deutschland, and now spreading in many different circles (a colloque organized by Wikimedia France this year, Wikipedia Days by Wikimedia CH, Wikimedia Conferentie NL by Wikimedia Nederland, and the newly born Wikipedia Academy in South Africa). To make a long story short, it aims to help students, academics, and pretty much whoever is interested, to learn how to edit and use Wikipedia in the best possible way (you know, tips about quality, checking your sources, using Wikipedia as a trempoline to other kind of knowledge sources etc.).

Now, here’s an event that I would support, because I believe that is definitely one of the most important responsibilities we have (and this is a very general “we” including editors in the projects, the Wikimedia organisations, and all supporters of the Wikimedia projects). So let’s make Wikipedia Academies. But again, I have to ask myself, why in Africa? I mean, in Africa, sure, we need the African Wikimedia Projects to take off so people can actually write their own history (and not have it written by others, as I pointed out above) but I think that our Western societies are at least as needy in terms of learning how to use the Wikimedia projects and further than that, the net. Wikipedia is among the 10 most visited websites in the world, it comes up first as soon as you type anything in search engines, so we have a huge responsibility to teach people how to use its content, as well as teach them to contribute to its overal quality.

This is all about (and although I don’t like the buzzword) media competence. Yes, you find errors in Wikipedia. But then, other sources have errors too. And there is so much information. So let’s teach people how to digest the information they’re fed and make sure they realize that they don't just have to digest it, but the can also participate in gathering it and bettering it. Not just in Africa, but everywhere. Let’s have Wikipedia Academies in the neighbour university, in Timbuktu, at your local Rotary Club, at the retirement home across the street. Everywhere.

Send students to Wikimania: Which students? Wikima…what?

That’s your third option. Well, errr, first and foremost, what on Earth is Wikimania? Well, it’s Wikimedia’s international annual conference. You’ll find everything about it on the official website. This year we had it in Taipei, next year we’ll have it in Alexandria. I love Wikimania. It’s like a little miniature world recreating in one place. But do our readers really care about it? I mean, it is an important event for the maintenance of the Wikimedia websites, for their reliability, their sane development, because editors and scholars and passers-by meet and discuss the future of Wikimedia projects. But I’m not sure you, our individual donor (the one who gives 60 dollars), are ready to support sending students there. Actually, I would say, keep your money and join us there. However, Wikimania is a great sponsorship opportunity. I mean this year, we’re having it in Alexandria, Egypt, home of the Library of Alexandria, no less. Sooo, dear corporate donor, contact me if you want to be part of this fantastic adventure. Dear individual donor, if you’ve come thus far, please continue to the next paragraph.

Deliver 100 millions page-views: the core idea, keep Wikipedia running

And we finally come to the real thing. Well, it’s kind of phrased awkwardly (what are pageviews? Aren’t they a measure used for getting money out of ads? Oh but wait, Wikimedia projects don’t do ads!), but basically, it says “support Wikimedia so that Wikipedia stays up”.

Now we’re talking! I mean, how many of our friends out there don’t even know that Wikipedia is hosted by a non-profit? How many of you out there are ready to give $20 (actually, make that 20 euros these days) or $20 000 (well, maybe fewer of you, but it does not hurt to try) to make sure that they can use Wikipedia further (or that others can use WIkipedia further)? Because that is also what, in the much longer run, is at stake. Whether Wikipedia continues to run, or not. The Wikimedia Foundation needs the money to make the sites go on.

Put your money where your mind (and your heart) is

In the end, the important message is that Wikipedia and the Wikimedia projects can achieve great things. In Africa, in developping countries, or in your neighborhood. But they will only be able to do so if they stay up, and free, out there for everyone to use. Mind you, I am one of the strongest advocates that the Wikimedia organisations worldwide need to focus on education, free knowledge for all and that in the long run, our budget should reflect clearly that. Running the websites in 3 years should not be our main worry (I can imagine an operational budget that has something like 10% devoted to server maintenance and 90% devoted to cool educational projects all over the world). But frankly, today, it is our main focus. The sites must go on. We’re working towards diversification and sustainability, but we need your help for that.

So, if you give, and if we’ve failed to talk to you, forget about all the words on the donation pages. Just give because of why you think Wikipedia is worth it.

Wikipedia has helped you stay in touch with the fast changes in your professional field? Give for that. Wikipedia has gotten you through school? Give for that. Wikipedia has allowed you to interest your grand-children in World War II? Or your grand-father in World of Warcraft? Give for that. Wikipedia has netted you your new job because it gave you all the background info on the company you applied to? Give for that. These reasons, and all of those you care to come up with, are the reasons why you should give, not the ones *we* may think are cool.

So, dear potential donor, small or big, individual or corporate, although we’re trying hard and might not be succeeding, help us understand why you give, so we can talk to you, and even better, with you.

NB. This post has been written for the Wikimedia Foundation fundraiser blog 2007.