By Casey Lartigue Jr.
In late 2016, an influential South Korean colleague predicted that my fledgling nonprofit organization will have trouble raising funding because Koreans probably fear that I, an American, would run away with the money.
Some American friends thought I was racially profiled by that comment, but I tell them I am caught up in the usual skepticism that comes with being part of a nonprofit organization (those concerned friends have yet to donate, by the way).
There are plenty of cases of people around the world misusing donated money, with two major consequences being that people have an excuse not to donate and nonprofit organizations that already lack respect but are doing good things the right way get undermined.
One of recent big news stories in Korea involves Lee Young-hak, indicted for murdering his teenage daughter's friend after raping her. According to "Koreans growing stingy on donation," by Kim Se-jong of The Korea Times, "Lee was quite a well-known person in Korean society. His rare incurable disease and struggle to survive and support his family was featured on television years ago and drew many people to give him donations. However, police found he maintained a lavish lifestyle financed by the donated money."
Lee is not alone. Numerous organizations, including the humongous Community Chest of Korea, have been accused of covering staff entertainment costs with collected money. In August, an NGO educating low-income people was caught using 12.8 billion won ($11.7 million) in donated funds on luxurious car purchases, lavish parties and overseas trips.
There are consequences to these actions. One, it gives people who did not plan to donate an excuse not to do so. About half of respondents to a survey by the Korea Institute for Health and Social Affairs said they don't make donations _ 23.8 percent of them explained this was because they didn't have enough trust in the organizations that collect the money.
The Korea-based "Helping and Share" consulting group reported that 52 percent of South Korean families donate to charity (compared to 86 percent of U.S. families). U.S. families on average donate 3.1 percent of the family budget to charity (South Koreans donate 0.35 percent of the family budget to charity). According to the 2016 World Giving Index, Korea is ranked 75th out of 140 countries.
The Korea Times article about the lack of donations by Koreans notes: "Among international NGOs, it's not a secret that the country is one of the most challenging places to succeed in fundraising." People stealing donations make that challenge more difficult.
Second, in addition to wasting donations given with good intentions, misused funds undermine organizations already lacking respect but doing things properly. After almost 20 years of volunteering as a busy-bee staffer, in numerous leadership positions, and on boards of directors, I have concluded that people don't respect nonprofit organizations.
I have encountered numerous people asking, "How are you going to spend the money," in some cases meaning the $20 they are waving in our faces. Others have asked how we would spend their money "if" they donate, without specifying how much they "might" donate (which is like me asking you how far you will drive without me telling you how much I'm going to put in your car).
I have noticed, on the other hand, when we offered gifts to thank and motivate donors that people didn't ask what we were going to do with the money. They could "see" that gift, whereas our many activities that they lauded didn't benefit them directly.
Nonprofit organizations relying on donations are in a weak position. That contrasts with the recent case of a Seoul National University professor caught stealing $1.1 million. I didn't notice citizens demanding less funding for universities, quotes that they wouldn't want their children attending SNU, or that they wanted the government to refund their share of tax money going to Seoul National University.
Despite the numerous good headlines and effective humanitarian actions of nonprofits, one rogue employee or team of rogues can destroy an organization.
When Koreans worry that I will run away with donated money, I inform them that I have been a victim of such thievery and know the consequences. Years ago, I was a director at a Korean NGO that imploded after a Korean staffer was caught embezzling more than $200,000. Overnight, that organization lost 99 percent of its funding. By my unofficial count, 15 of 19 staffers (including me) were let go.
That organization has yet to recover, it is still on the verge of shutting down (as a favor, I edited their latest funding proposal, but haven't heard from them recently).
I happily stay away from accounting and the organization's bank account, preferring to focus on my activities, hoping my Korean colleagues won't land me in the unemployment line again.
Casey Lartigue Jr. (CJL@alumni.harvard.edu.) is co-founder of the Teach North Korean Refugees Global Education Center (TNKR) in Seoul.
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Some American friends thought I was racially profiled by that comment, but I tell them I am caught up in the usual skepticism that comes with being part of a nonprofit organization (those concerned friends have yet to donate, by the way).
There are plenty of cases of people around the world misusing donated money, with two major consequences being that people have an excuse not to donate and nonprofit organizations that already lack respect but are doing good things the right way get undermined.
One of recent big news stories in Korea involves Lee Young-hak, indicted for murdering his teenage daughter's friend after raping her. According to "Koreans growing stingy on donation," by Kim Se-jong of The Korea Times, "Lee was quite a well-known person in Korean society. His rare incurable disease and struggle to survive and support his family was featured on television years ago and drew many people to give him donations. However, police found he maintained a lavish lifestyle financed by the donated money."
Lee is not alone. Numerous organizations, including the humongous Community Chest of Korea, have been accused of covering staff entertainment costs with collected money. In August, an NGO educating low-income people was caught using 12.8 billion won ($11.7 million) in donated funds on luxurious car purchases, lavish parties and overseas trips.
There are consequences to these actions. One, it gives people who did not plan to donate an excuse not to do so. About half of respondents to a survey by the Korea Institute for Health and Social Affairs said they don't make donations _ 23.8 percent of them explained this was because they didn't have enough trust in the organizations that collect the money.
The Korea-based "Helping and Share" consulting group reported that 52 percent of South Korean families donate to charity (compared to 86 percent of U.S. families). U.S. families on average donate 3.1 percent of the family budget to charity (South Koreans donate 0.35 percent of the family budget to charity). According to the 2016 World Giving Index, Korea is ranked 75th out of 140 countries.
The Korea Times article about the lack of donations by Koreans notes: "Among international NGOs, it's not a secret that the country is one of the most challenging places to succeed in fundraising." People stealing donations make that challenge more difficult.
Second, in addition to wasting donations given with good intentions, misused funds undermine organizations already lacking respect but doing things properly. After almost 20 years of volunteering as a busy-bee staffer, in numerous leadership positions, and on boards of directors, I have concluded that people don't respect nonprofit organizations.
I have encountered numerous people asking, "How are you going to spend the money," in some cases meaning the $20 they are waving in our faces. Others have asked how we would spend their money "if" they donate, without specifying how much they "might" donate (which is like me asking you how far you will drive without me telling you how much I'm going to put in your car).
I have noticed, on the other hand, when we offered gifts to thank and motivate donors that people didn't ask what we were going to do with the money. They could "see" that gift, whereas our many activities that they lauded didn't benefit them directly.
Nonprofit organizations relying on donations are in a weak position. That contrasts with the recent case of a Seoul National University professor caught stealing $1.1 million. I didn't notice citizens demanding less funding for universities, quotes that they wouldn't want their children attending SNU, or that they wanted the government to refund their share of tax money going to Seoul National University.
Despite the numerous good headlines and effective humanitarian actions of nonprofits, one rogue employee or team of rogues can destroy an organization.
When Koreans worry that I will run away with donated money, I inform them that I have been a victim of such thievery and know the consequences. Years ago, I was a director at a Korean NGO that imploded after a Korean staffer was caught embezzling more than $200,000. Overnight, that organization lost 99 percent of its funding. By my unofficial count, 15 of 19 staffers (including me) were let go.
That organization has yet to recover, it is still on the verge of shutting down (as a favor, I edited their latest funding proposal, but haven't heard from them recently).
I happily stay away from accounting and the organization's bank account, preferring to focus on my activities, hoping my Korean colleagues won't land me in the unemployment line again.
Casey Lartigue Jr. (CJL@alumni.harvard.edu.) is co-founder of the Teach North Korean Refugees Global Education Center (TNKR) in Seoul.
