Compassion cult comes with high admission price

Sturt Krygsman

LAST week, the apparent blockbuster business conference, Corporations, People and the Planet, starring Bob Geldof and Sigourney Weaver, was cancelled when the Gorillas in the Mist star pulled out.

You could almost hear sighs of relief from businessmen and women across the country. The axing of the "once in a lifetime" conference known as CPP2012 means business people are released from having to play a Simon says game of public posturing on the most faddish issues of the day. Like a corporate version of Geldof's 1985 gig Live Aid and its successor concert 20 years later, Live 8, Geldof's latest shindig would have drawn in all those who know they ought to be seen to be doing the right thing: show the world they care, even if they don't.

Showing you care about sustainability -- the latest buzzword in business -- means buying $995-a-head tickets to attend a three-day sustainability version of Woodstock. No hallucinogenic drugs or screeching Janis Joplin. Just $9500 Diamond Tables for 10 that include cocktails with keynote speakers such as David Suzuki and Tim Costello. So, it is with some respite that Geldof won't be fronting CCP2012, due to be held in Melbourne at the end of the month. We have been saved another superficial, hypocritical moral bashing from a bloke who, last time he was here, said Australia had "exiled" indigenous people and believes that a carbon tax will create jobs.

Now that Geldof is free on April 29, perhaps he and Julia Gillard can dine at the Lodge and marvel at their shared wisdom.

The hypocrisy of people such as Geldof was recently brought home when The Sunday Times revealed that the Third World poverty campaigner has put his swish homes in Kent and London into offshore companies, saving himself over pound stg. 1 million in tax and stamp duties. In other words, the man who publicly hounds and hassles governments to hand out more taxpayer dollars as foreign aid employs smart accountants to minimise the amount that he contributes to this act of government generosity.

Like Kerry Packer, Geldof doesn't seem to think the government is doing such a fine job spending his tax money that he wants to pay it a cent more in tax than he otherwise has to by law. That's fair enough. But for Geldof to build a career on moralising at others about being generous is a bit rich. The funds have to come from somewhere and tax dollars may as well come from the singer of I Don't Like Mondays instead of just from those regular taxpayers who actually get up and go to work on Mondays.

The former lead singer of the Boomtown Rats is not alone. U2's Bono has rightly come under attack for pleading about fighting poverty while his band has moved parts of its business to The Netherlands, a tax haven. It's disingenuous to deprive the Irish Exchequer of money and then plead for governments to send more money to Africa. No wonder the man wears such dark sunglasses.

To be fair, Geldof and his ilk could exist only in an era given over to a cult of compassion. Of course, there are plenty of people who genuinely care. They work tirelessly in aid organisations or contribute privately with great generosity. They even include celebrities. But there are also too many people who need to show the world they care, even if they don't. As Patrick West wrote in his book, Conspicuous Compassion, published in 2004, "sometimes the three Cs of modern life -- compassion, caring and crying in public -- show not how altruistic we have become but how selfish . . . Sometimes these gestures actually do harm."

Overcome with schmaltzy sentimentality, we wail over the death of a princess we never knew, we flagellate ourselves over matters beyond our control, we buy ribbons and wristbands to signify we feel for causes, while public donations for the same causes fall.

Feelgooders, such as Geldof, advocate writing off Third World debts when this would simply free up funds for dictators to buy more arms and Cuban cigars. And we sign up to social networking causes to signify our new-found, deep devotion and solidarity, at least until the next distraction emerges from cyberspace.

Consider the Joseph Kony phenomenon. In early March after the release of a film by Jason Russell, the Ugandan warlord's name was on every social networker's lips. With more than 86 million views for the 30-minute video, Kony 2012 is not to be confused with CPP2012. Celebrities such as Oprah, Rihanna and Justin Bieber signed up to the cause. The chief prosecutor at the International Criminal Court praised the campaign, too. And as 16-year-old Michael Geheren wrote on The Huffington Post website, "personally I have never seen an outpour of support from people on my Facebook news feed like this".

A better analysis is the Konograph. Drawn and written by Ormond College student William Mosley, who is studying mechanical engineering at the University of Melbourne, the graph was published in The Ormondian a few weeks ago. Trace the "care" curve: Tuesday morning: Africa is a lost cause. Tuesday afternoon: OH MA GAWD Kony is the most evil man EVER!! Wednesday morning: Send in US troops. Wednesday afternoon: Wait, who are we arming? Thursday morning: There are other corrupt, evil dictators in Africa?!? Thursday lunchtime: F . . k I'm tired. Thursday afternoon: Africa is a lost cause.

We should be deeply embarrassed that our curiosity wanes so quickly and that a celebrity is often needed to catch our attention about everything from global poverty to Parkinson's disease. The US congress has hosted intellectuals such as Christie Brinkley on the dangers of nuclear reactors. We have grown accustomed to celebrity endorsement of political parties and candidates. Harry Potter, aka Daniel Radcliffe, likes the Liberal Democrats. So does John Cleese. Geri "Ginger Spice" Halliwell famously told The Spectator in 1996: "We Spices are true Thatcherites." And Elle Macpherson recently told us that Barack Obama was her man because "I'm socialist. What do you expect?" Alas, it's easy for the Body to believe in sharing other people's money when she too pays an army of tax lawyers, financial advisers and accountants so she doesn't have to share her own.

While Kony 2012 has subsided and CPP2012 has been canned, the celebrity-laden conveyer belt of causes keeps rolling along, fuelled by our own need for conspicuous compassion. If we are honest, this fickle parade of public caring points to our cynicism, a deep-seated private apathy, a disconnect from issues and people whether close to us or far away.

The price of this compassion cult, of our passing interest in matters that require considered thought and long-term commitment, is much higher than the $995 tickets charged by CPP2012. Geldof's hypocrisy may be shameful but it is nowhere near as shameful as our own.