Why ALL fundraisers should listen to Band Aid criticism...

Although I’m too young to remember 1984’s original Band Aid, I remember the 2004 version (Band Aid 20) quite well. 12 year old me was a big fan; I bought that single, and I remember fiercely shouting down the protests of my classmates who thought it was a bad song by insisting that it was “about poverty, for goodness sake”. That I was a particularly precocious child should be evident, but I also did genuinely care about the cause. I liked the song, I liked the people in it, and I thought it was important and meaningful. I was a pretty big fan of Christmas, and so it was easy to get swept up in all the festive emotion that surrounded the song.

Fast forward ten years and I’m still a big fan of Christmas, and I still care deeply about the plight of those less fortunate than myself. Working in direct marketing, I’ve seen plenty of appeals with the word ‘Ebola’ in unmistakably urgent red letters stamped across the top. 22 year-old me is no less aware of the injustices of the world than 12 year-old me, but for some reason this year's Band Aid 30 makes me feel uncomfortable. Am I just old, cynical and too jaded to care any more? Has my liberal arts education conditioned me to overthink things incessantly rather than simply embrace the emotion of the thing? Should I not applaud the efforts of people trying to make the world a better place, no matter what?

All these things are possible. However, if the majority of #BandAid30 tweets, YouTube comments and press reviews are anything to go by, I’m not alone.

If you haven’t seen it yet, the Band Aid video allocates a full 17 seconds of its nearly 5-minute footage to the cause - the victims of Ebola. Faceless health workers in white protective garments enter a dingy wooden room to find a lone woman laid out across the bed. We don’t know her name. We don’t know her story. She is just another human being who has lost everything – including her identity – to this illness. We fade to black.

We’re barely given an instant to reflect on the deep tragedy of what we have just witnessed before being catapulted into a row of paparazzi frantically snapping as celebrities emerge from fancy cars, looking like a factory belt parade of healthy, happy people. They’re shiny, they’re well-dressed and – here’s the thing that got me – they’re surrounded by people. Bearing in mind that victims of Ebola enter into a state of extreme mental and physical isolation from the moment they face diagnosis, Geldof could hardly have picked two more diametrically opposed images. There’s a brief moment of polite chit-chat – after all, it’s not like Ebola’s a time-sensitive issue or anything – before the song itself begins, led by everybody’s favourite private jet travellers, One Direction.

The very last thing I am is a musical expert, so I’m not going to critically appraise the song (though, as it happens, I do actually quite like it). The lyrics, however, are highly questionable. This year they have been amended specifically to reflect the impact of Ebola on West Africa, and the Guardian has broken down the changes in an article which explains just how strange some of the amends are. One line that’s been particularly contentious across social media is the one sung by the perennially philanthropic Bono – “well tonight we’re reaching out, and touching you”. What's the idea here? Fear not, provincial Africans, for brave Westerners have come to touch you with the power of song!?

It's hard to disagree with critics arguing that the entire song smacks a little too much of British colonialism – a little too much of the wealthy white Westerner declaring their intention to save the poor Africans from themselves, and expecting a heap of praise for it, whilst blissfully ignoring the fact that the Nigerians in particular have actually done an exemplary job of tackling the virus without Bono’s crooning. Indeed, since Bryony Gordon’s article several other people have added their voices to the fray of discontent, including Fuse ODG who was asked to participate on the record but turned it down in protest at the lyrics. He is, he says, “sick of the whole concept of Africa – a resource-rich continent with unbridled potential – always being seen as diseased, infested and poverty-stricken”. Lily Allen has also turned it down, branding the entire song as “smug” and declaring that she would rather donate actual money than join the "success club". Even singers who did appear on the song now seem to be backtracking slightly – perhaps most notably Emeli Sande, one of the few non-white artists involved, who tweeted earlier this week that she and fellow African signer Angelique Kidjo “made and sang our own edits” whilst recording Band Aid 30, none of which made the cut. In her mind a whole new Band Aid song is needed.

Whatever the critics say, Band Aid 30 has quickly become the fastest selling single of 2014, reached number 1 in the charts, and raised an enormous amount of money in the process. That, let us not forget, is what fundraising is all about – and most charity fundraisers can only dream of the kind of press coverage, public awareness and income that have been raised through Geldof’s effort. It would also be obtuse to ignore that this festival of celebrity might well be what it now takes to wake people up to the seriousness of the situation. But, is it really true that the only way to get young people engaged with the plight of those less fortunate is to involve One Direction? And there was clearly a concerted effort to get the attention of young people - besides launching on The X Factor, how else can we explain the inclusion of popular beauty vlogger Zoella beside Ed Sheeran in the final shot - but at what cost to its broader credibility?

Alongside the arguments themselves, the song's many critics have unwittingly highlighted what has long been a problematic situation for charity fundraisers. If you present the cause in the worst possible way, some people will say you're appealing to their inner guilt, not their better judgement. Even worse, like Fuse ODG, they might accuse you of disempowering the victims' community and country. Show too little cause, on the other hand and, like Band Aid, you leave the door open to accusations of flippancy in the face of great tragedy.

Overall, this entire episode raises fascinating questions about how charity fundraisers ‘should’ appeal to the general public for money...

Can it ever be done effectively at national level without alienating sections of society? How do we adequately communicate the gravitas of a tragic situation without portraying the countries and communities that most need our help as being unable to help themselves? Do celebrities attract the right kind of attention, and is it counterproductive to the credibility of the campaign to show them as they are in showbiz mode – healthy, shiny and enjoying life?

There are no hard and fast answers to these questions, and that's partly why charity fundraisers have such a difficult job. Ultimately, whether you laud him or lambast him, that's what Geldof is: a fundraiser using his best judgement. He just happens to have the very rare ability of being able to summon a veritable army of celebs at the click of his fingers. Not all fundraisers have those kind of resources, but perhaps they do all face the same challenges.

[ edited by Barney Knibb, originally posted here. ]