Читать книгу How To Be Great At Doing Good - Cooney Nick - Страница 4

In 1936, a Czech citizen named Oskar Schindler enlisted as a spy for the secret intelligence service of the Nazi Party. Schindler was a banker and businessman and, although he was not German himself, his family had German roots. As the drums of war began to beat, fueled by the fiery speeches of Adolf Hitler and mass propaganda from the Nazi regime, Schindler went to work collecting information on troop movements and military installations in Czechoslovakia in preparation for a possible German invasion.

In July of 1938, Schindler was arrested by the Czech government and jailed for espionage. Had Germany chosen not to invade that country, the story for Schindler – and many others – may have ended there, in a dismal Czech prison. But just three months later Germany invaded and took control of large portions of the country. Schindler was sprung from his cell, praised for his work, and promptly sent on to Poland to continue his espionage in advance of another planned invasion.

A businessman at heart, Schindler wasn't content to merely pass the time in Poland taking notes and sending them on to the Nazi regime. So while there, he decided to also resume his life's main pursuit: making money. After searching for opportunities, Schindler came across an enamelware factory that had been put up for sale by a group of bankrupt Jewish businessmen. To Schindler, it seemed like a straightforward business opportunity. He would take over a failing factory and use his connections and experience to turn a hefty profit. That is exactly what Schindler did, earning an impressive income and living luxuriously in Poland for the next few years.

As World War II wore on, though, Schindler became disillusioned and eventually disgusted with what the Nazi Party was doing. The final straw for Schindler came in 1942 when the Nazis began to empty Kraków, a Jewish ghetto in Poland. Over a period of months the area's Jewish inhabitants were rounded up and shipped off to extermination or concentration camps elsewhere in Poland and Germany.

It just so happened that Schindler's enamelware factory was located not far from Kraków. In fact, a number of his workers lived there. Schindler, who was made aware of the planned action ahead of time thanks to his connections with the Nazi Party, was sickened by the thought of what was being done. The fact that it would be done to his own workers, people he saw every day toiling away at his factory, was more than he could stomach.

So Schindler, in his first act of secret defiance against the Nazi regime, had his Jewish workers start to sleep overnight at the factory in order to spare them from being rounded up and shipped off. His quick thinking saved the lives of his workers, and the experience left Schindler a changed man. From that point forward, the businessman who up until now had lived a life of luxury shifted his attention to a new goal: saving as many Jews as he could from the Holocaust that was underway.

Schindler began to employ more and more Jewish individuals as workers in his factory, not because he needed them (the overstaffing certainly cut into his profits), but because by doing so he could prevent them from being shipped off to extermination camps. Those added to the payroll included women, children, and the disabled, with Schindler assuring Nazi officials that all of them played important skilled roles in the manufacturing process. When those lies didn't succeed, Schindler used cash, diamonds, and luxury gifts he had obtained on the black market to bribe officials to allow him to continue hiring and retaining as many Jewish workers as possible. At its height in 1944, his factory “employed” over 1,000 Jewish workers.

As the war took a turn for the worse for Germany in 1944, the Nazi government decided that all German factories in Poland should be relocated inside the gates of the Polish concentration camps. Schindler knew that if his enamelware factory was moved inside a concentration camp, it would mean all of his Jewish workers would be forced to endure the brutality of the camp as well. So, once again using his cunning and the bribes that his wealth allowed, Schindler managed to talk his way into not only keeping his factory where it was, but also into being able to house hundreds of additional workers from other nearby factories at his plant.

A number of months later, as the Russian army began to advance on Poland, the Nazi government ordered Schindler's factory to close. Once more, Schindler used bribes and his skills of persuasion to obtain special permission to keep his factory open and have it moved to the German-controlled portion of Czechoslovakia. When, during the relocation process, several trainloads of workers were accidentally sent to concentration camps, Schindler used still more bribes of black market goods and diamonds to secure their release.

As part of the deal allowing him to keep his factory, Schindler had to agree to transition from an enamelware producer to a munitions producer and supply anti-tank grenades to the German war effort. Of course, this presented a major problem for Schindler. He didn't want to support the German war effort by producing grenade shells. But his hands were tied; had he refused, his factory would have been shuttered and his Jewish workers all shipped off to concentration camps.

So once more the crafty businessman turned to subterfuge. Schindler instructed his workers to produce only a very small number of useable artillery shells. When Nazi officials eventually caught wind that something might be amiss and came to question him about why he was producing such a small number of shells, Schindler purchased pre-made shells from the black market and told officials they had been made at his own factory. It was enough to buy him the time he and his Jewish workers needed to ride out the end of World War II in safety.

By the time the War ended in 1945, Schindler had spent over one million dollars of his own money to protect his Jewish workers. Completely broke, he would go on to spend the remaining decades of his life running a series of failed businesses, dependent on financial assistance from Jewish organizations and from individuals whom he had saved during the war. Schindler's body now lies buried on Mt. Zion in Jerusalem beneath a tombstone that reads “The Unforgettable Lifesaver of 1200 Persecuted Jews.”

Given the number of people he saved, we would expect that in looking back on what he had done Schindler would have, while no doubt horrified by the Holocaust that had occurred, at least been proud of his own actions and accomplishments. He had put himself at extreme personal risk. If high-ranking officials in the Nazi party had caught on to what he was doing, Schindler would undoubtedly have been executed. Furthermore, he had selflessly used up his entire fortune to feed and care for his Jewish workers and to bribe officials into allowing him to continue to keep them in his factory where they would be safe from harm. Thanks to his courageous work, he had saved over one thousand people from being murdered.

Yet, as the war ended, his work successfully completed, Schindler did not look back on what he had done with pride. In fact, he looked back on his work with another emotion entirely: regret.

Many of us are familiar with Schindler's story thanks to the blockbuster 1993 film Schindler's List, which depicts Schindler's heroic wartime actions. While fictionalized in some ways, the film is based in large part on extensive research and interviews with Jewish individuals who had been saved by Schindler.

At the conclusion of the film, Schindler laments to his close Jewish friend Itzhak Stern his regret about not having done more to help the Jewish people. While the dialogue used in the film is fictionalized, the sentiment expressed was one that Schindler truly felt: that he was in many ways a failure because he could have helped more people but failed to do so. The film's dialogue goes as follows:

Oskar Schindler:

I could have got more out. I could have got more. I don't know. If I'd just…I could have got more.

Itzhak Stern:

Oskar, there are eleven hundred people who are alive because of you. Look at them.

Oskar Schindler:

If I'd made more money… I threw away so much money. You have no idea. If I'd just…

Itzhak Stern:

There will be generations because of what you did.

Oskar Schindler:

I didn't do enough!

Itzhak Stern:

You did so much.

[Schindler looks at his car.]

Oskar Schindler:

This car. Göth would have bought this car. Why did I keep the car? Ten people right there. Ten people. Ten more people.

[Removing Nazi pin from lapel]

Oskar Schindler:

This pin. Two people. This is gold. Two more people. He would have given me two for it, at least one. One more person. A person, Stern. For this.

[Sobbing]

Oskar Schindler:

I could have gotten one more person…and I didn't! And I… I didn't!

[Spielberg, 1994]

As courageous as he was, as skilled and cunning as he was, and as much as he sacrificed to save the lives of more than one thousand people, Schindler did not look back on his work with a feeling of pride and contentment. Instead, he looked back with regret. Schindler – who certainly did so much – realized only too late that he had had the opportunity to save even more lives and failed to act on it. He realized too late that, had he thought more methodically, had he worked more smartly, had he been willing to sacrifice more of his personal comfort, many individuals condemned to death would have been able to live. As great a man as he was, this regret likely haunted him for the rest of his life.

You and I will probably never find ourselves in Oskar Schindler's shoes. We will probably never encounter the surreal, horrifying situation that Schindler faced in wartime Europe. But there is a profoundly important lesson that we can take from Schindler's experience, a lesson that should shape our own attempts to do what good we can in this world.

The majority of us are involved one way or another with charity work. Many of us donate to charity. Many of us volunteer our free time to support charitable causes. A few of us even work directly for non-profit organizations.

While Hollywood may never make a movie about you or me, the sobering reality is that the world we inhabit is much like the world Schindler inhabited. While we don't live in the midst of a genocide, and while we don't work alongside individuals who could be executed en masse at any time, we do live on a planet with a monumental amount of suffering, cruelty, and needless death.

We live in a world where tens of millions of people are imprisoned in slave-like conditions, the victims of human trafficking and labor bondage. We live in a world where tens if not hundreds of millions of people suffer acutely from easily preventable and easily treatable injuries and diseases. We live in a world where tens of billions of animals are confined and tortured in deplorable conditions on intensive factory farms. We live in a world where millions of elderly people live shut-in lives of piercing loneliness. We live in a world where human activity is poisoning or devouring huge swaths of the earth's ecosystems. We live in a world where hundreds of millions of women endure physical abuse, mutilation, or a denial of their most basic freedoms simply because of their sex.

But, as was the case for Schindler, we also live in a world where our money, our time, and our cleverness can spare dozens, hundreds, thousands of these individuals from misery – if we choose to use our money, time, and cleverness toward that end. That means that just as much hangs in the balance when we make our charity decisions as hung in the balance for Schindler when he took his wartime actions. Just as much hangs in the balance with whether we donate, how much we donate, and who and what we donate toward. Just as much hangs in the balance with how calculating we are in the charitable work we carry out, and with what programs our non-profit organizations choose to carry out. Just as much hangs in the balance with how hard we are willing to work, how smart we are able to be, and how focused we are on our goals. The suffering, well-being, and lives of so many individuals hang in the balance of our decisions, just as they did for Schindler's.

Because that is the world that we live in, Schindler's (dramatized) words should weigh as heavily on our minds as they weighed on his: “I could have got more out. I could have got more.” Schindler looked back on his work not with pride but with regret. Regret for those whose lives he could have saved had he only been more calculating, more rigorous in his work.

If a man as courageous, smart, and committed as Oscar Schindler overlooked obvious opportunities to “get more out,” then the question we must ask ourselves of our own charity work is this: What is it that we are missing? How can we “get more out” by being more calculating, more rigorous in our own work?

None of us wants to look back later in life with Schindler's regret, realizing only too late that, however much good we did, we could have done so much more. None of us wants to look back and realize that we could have helped more individuals but failed to do so.

This is a book about taking a calculated approach to doing good. It is a book about how to get more out of our donations, our volunteering, and the work that some of us put in as non-profit staffers. It is a book about how you and I can get more individuals out of a lifetime of misery.

This is also a book about why, like Schindler, we often fall short of our potential in the charity work we do. We'll explore the blind spots we have, the mistakes we make, and the self-defeating ideas we hold that prevent us from “getting more out.” We'll learn how to identify these barriers so we can overcome them and succeed at truly changing the world for the better.

All of us have the potential to be great at doing good. All of us have the ability to achieve the sort of heroic results that Schindler achieved. All that's required is that we act with the intelligence and rigor that those who need our help most certainly deserve.