White Saviorism in International Development

A conversation with Themrise Khan, co-editor of 'White Saviorism in International Development: Theories, Practices and Lived Experiences'

What are the other issues that we need to be looking at that have been neglected for so long? That's how the book came about. And we insisted that this has to be a Global South book; it cannot be voices of the Global North. —Themrise Khan

Photo by Maxence Pira on Unsplash

A year ago, I had a riveting conversation with the brilliant Themrise Khan, a much-needed voice in the realm of international development. Themrise, along with Kanakulya Dixon and Maika Sondarjee, co-edited the groundbreaking book White Saviorism in International Development: Theories, Practices and Lived Experiences. While Themrise spoke from over 25 years of working in international development in a different part of the world, I found great similarities and parallels in our experiences.

I worked in aid and development for many years in my home region of the Pacific. As an Indigenous Fijian who grew up in and around the Pacific, I can tell you that this book spoke so much to experiences, observations and documented examples that I and that people I know have both witnessed and survived. I have a feeling it might also have a familiar ring for many readers. 

Being from Pakistan, Themrise shared her journey as an independent development specialist and her extensive involvement in global development, aid, gender, and migration.

Themrise Khan: I have been an independent development specialist, primarily in Pakistan - my home country, where I'm based - for almost more than 25 years. I just did not see any change in the decades that I worked in the field and in the research and evaluation areas. It was just too confrontational a world to be part of, and I just couldn't do it anymore.

I learned a tremendous amount - so I give credit where credit is due. But it was just too confrontational a world to be part of, and I just couldn't do it anymore so eventually I did decide to leave. And I left it in terms of work and income, but I didn't leave it as a passion for myself. I still work technically in the development sector, but I'm not in the sector, I’m outside of it.

What I deeply appreciate about this book is its call for accountability and self-reflection. Themrise shed light on the white saviorism complex, emphasizing that it's not an identity. Instead, it’s a mindset - a state of mind that asserts superiority over others. She delved into the origins of white saviorism, tracing it back to colonialism, sharing how this mindset has infiltrated various regions, not limited to race but extending to saviors of different colors and genders. 

Themrise Khan: Our idea of white saviorism was inspired by the American Nigerian writer Teju Cole in his 2012 article in The Atlantic on the white savior industrial complex. He spoke about the Kony 2012 incident and coined this term based on the idea that literally white people want to come and save black Africans. That's the crux of it. That's what inspired us behind our thinking and our approach to white saviorism. We're not looking at the white savior per se, but we're looking at white saviorism - a state of mind that convinces somebody that they are more powerful than the other.

In our book we also talk about saviors of a different color as well. The brown saviours, there's a chapter on that. Women, for that matter as well, are equally part of the savior's mindset, which is why we defined white saviorism as a mindset - a mindset that is propelled by powers and superiority of knowing more than others being better than others.

We didn't really have an academic definition but we were very clear in our minds that this is a mindset that infiltrates those who are looking for power. It could really be anyone but, yes, it did originate from those who were white. It did originate from colonialism, and from the white colonials. So they are the absolute origin of this idea and this concept but it has now infiltrated within other regions, to be able to think that they are better than others. That's really how we decided we wanted to view look at white saviorism, and that's how we encourage our contributors to look at it as well.

Themrise and I shifted our focus to a story that echoes in contexts like mine in Fiji and throughout Oceania, where the ebb and flow of visiting diplomats and aid workers creates an eternal Lazy Susan effect. It's a tale familiar to many - local communities trapped in a revolving door of consultations, catering to the incessant requests of expatriates, starting anew with every posting. 

Themrise Khan: I think that is the ultimate lived experience of people who really don't even show up on the radar until a photo op is required. It's a reality of this industry, that the beneficiary - so to speak, quote unquote - are people you use because they look good for you as props, and that you really know nothing about them. You really know nothing about what you're there to do, even - I go as far as saying that. Issues like declining to meet us, but only inviting us to get the photo op they wanted, and then they forget about you. A number of expatriate staff in High Commissions in diplomatic roles are so inexperienced themselves. It is very insulting and humiliating for us to have to look up to them.

Let me be clear. I worked in aid communications for a while and statements like Themrise’s would rarely be spoken out loud, especially in mixed company. But make no mistake. I can assure you that more than a few people are thinking it and talk to each other about it amongst themselves. 

Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

We went on to discuss a nuanced aspect of the international development landscape - one that hits close to home for many, including myself. It was, in fact, my favorite chapter of the book. She introduced the concept of brown saviors, a phenomenon that transcends borders and is part of the very fabric of aid organizations.

I remember sitting at my desk one day after sending off a flurry of emails to aid programs, NGOs, and organizations that had received funding from the donor I worked for. My task was to remind them all about how to use and place the logo denoting their funding. I remember sitting back in my chair, and feeling a strong sense that this was not what I envisioned doing with my life. I suspect this is an experience that many Oceanians who work in the sector may share. We ask ourselves, “Is this really my ancestors’ wildest dreams?” The answer, for me at least, has been: “No.”

I offer myself no free passes here. I own up to being a part of the system fuelled by this mindset. It’s one of the reasons I knew from very early on in my career that I would need to leave before this worldview took root in my own outlook. It is a slippery slope, and at the time I knew that if I was not careful, I would begin to identify more closely with the foreign organization I worked for than with the communities I was supposedly serving (and a part of!).

Themrise touched on the layers of power intricacies, shedding light on the impact of interventions from powerful nations on the internal power structures of the Global South. 

Themrise Khan: Everybody talks about the power structures between the so-called Global North and Global South. There is a similar power structure placed within the Global South, and within each country of the Global South.

Strongholds of industrialists, powerful families, and politicians hold power in every country. The same power structures criticized between regions exist within each of our countries as well. The intervention of the powerful northern countries exacerbates this internal power structure.

People are desperate to get jobs in high commissions and international NGOs for power and access to a better world. Stories about being treated differently by experts compared to their own people are not surprising.

The dynamics of how a Pakistani driver is spoken to by local management versus expatriate staff reveal a complex power dynamic. A very complex power dynamic is happening within each of our countries, and I've experienced it firsthand. Exacerbated by the entry of the Global North, the power dynamics are also worsened by our own desire to be in power and maintain power.

Our conversation took a humorous turn as we confronted the often overused and yet elusive term in the development realm - localization. This term, forever bandied about, holds a certain mystique - akin to a worn-out spell that, if invoked 10,000 times, might distract from the fact that it’s just not happening. 

A range of remarks made at aid and development conferences within the past couple of years alone all talk about localization being the way forward, and the importance of being locally led. You could jump into a time machine to 10 or 20 years ago, and find people telling these same conference-hosting institutions the same exact thing.

We discussed how, in appeasing donors and international partners, the narrative is often tailored to meet specific expectations, veering away from disturbing the status quo.

Themrise Khan: There's that dreaded word localization, one of the many dreaded terms circulating these days in this whole decolonial structure. There is a difference between knowledge that exists in a particular location and knowledge that you think exists. Donors and international partners often want to hear something specific rather than what needs to be said.

I regret redrafting and toning down work in reporting or evaluations to meet the expectations of donors. As a national consultant in global evaluations, I became a glorified translator and tour guide to expat evaluators. Observations about my own country's impact were never reflected in the final report because it wasn't what donors wanted to hear.

It's an insulting and humiliating exercise for those of us who want our countries to develop and want the truth to come out. Knowledge that we want to come to the fore is continually suppressed, preventing the truth from being revealed. Contractors have said, “We won't work with you again because you haven't given us what we wanted,” leaving us not in control. Regardless of knowing much more about the real story, we are not allowed to speak the truth.

Photo by Kalea Morgan on Unsplash

As we shared experiences about the harsh reality faced by local staff of aid programs, a doubly challenging dynamic for women of color in the aid sector, we delve deeper into another unacknowledged truth - the industry's reluctance to address the appalling behavior of expatriates. 

There is a double standard that exists based on the idea that locals should feel privileged to be working in such rarified spaces as aid-funded programs. While we need to behave ourselves accordingly, expatriates (white expatriates in particular) tend to enjoy an air of impunity when it comes to bullying, harassing and unethical behavior. 

Themrise Khan: [Locals have] been sort of shoved up against a wall and told, "Keep your mouth shut." I can't point to specific instances, but, you know, I can't deny that this is something none of us are unaware of. It's a reality; it's not just confined to the sector. Particularly, women live through this reality, especially in countries like ours.

Many of us are in countries that are gender equal, gender-unfriendly, women-unfriendly. Having a layer like this imposed from outside the country makes it worse.

The internal power structures we discussed earlier also play a role in this; you're not only silenced by expatriate powers but also by the local power structure: “Don't say a word, or it will harm your job and mine.” Countless people, women and men, have suffered because of this. If people don't wake up to this and there's denial, we're in even more serious trouble than we thought we were.

It's crucial to acknowledge the internal dynamics that shape individual experiences. Themrise and I reflected on the delicate balance between personal empowerment, the aid industry's fallacies, and the collective journey towards a more transparent and equitable future.

Themrise Khan: I mean, you're given to believe that you are already receiving more than you could have ever imagined. And there is a certain level of, I think, I wouldn't say superiority. Maybe, for lack of a better word, that you are also made to feel like I was always made to feel, as the consultant that I was, of this elite group within my own people. So that makes you feel good and makes you feel powerful. I felt powerful.

After a while, when I had people coming to me and sort of offering me contracts left, right and centre, you know - it does make you feel good. And I think that's one of the fallacies of this industry, that they will make you falsely believe that you are as good as they are. And I say, “No, we're not as good as they are. We're better than them.”

But I think our own reactions to it have made it much more complex. I think we should have spoken out much earlier. And a lot of us actually did. I do remember my peers trying to talk about this, but ultimately, it used to go nowhere. Now, obviously, things have changed in some time. But I wish we could have come to terms with reality much earlier.

There's a path forward - but let me be clear. People usually want to skip to the solution because the problem makes them so uncomfortable. And they usually want the solution to involve the continuation of aid. You may have heard of it before - the “doing development differently” school of thought. The path of least discomfort.

If my teen niece’s generation grows up into another cohort of aid and development program managers, I would personally take it as an indictment of my generation. Why would aid management even still exist as a career if we’ve done our so-called jobs right? 

There’s little that is original about the issues plaguing the sector. As Themrise says, naming the problem is only the first step. There’s space for self-reflection and accountability in shaping a better future for ourselves and our communities. Pessimism is easy - hope is hard.

Photo by Jaqueline Fritz on Unsplash

Themrise Khan: I think that there must always be hope. I know I'm quite a pessimist most days, but there's sort of a pessimistic optimism that I think we should also always have. There is a lot of negativity out there. But you do that to encourage positivity - you don't do it just for the sake of being negative. So there is some method to the madness there.

But the way I look at it, and this is now my thinking and stream of consciousness, is that I think we all owe it to ourselves, to develop our and build and grow our own nations. We need to build that strength, which we have, and which for many reasons has probably been suppressed. We need to build that back up. We need to focus on our own issues and our own insecurities. And we need to tell ourselves that this is not right.

I mean, for a lot of us, this is the only country we'll ever have. That leaves the responsibility on us, right? Nobody's always going to be there to fix our problems for us. And so I think that's where the focus should lie, it should lie within each country. And once we've sorted ourselves out, to a certain extent, at least, and this means having a lot of introspection and internal dialogue within ourselves, only then can we approach others, and sort of come up on a level playing field, so to speak.

Because without our own introspection, I don't think we'll be able to sort anything out either for anyone else, and definitely not for ourselves. I think the hope lies in us focusing inwards on ourselves.

That's what I always say. Everybody asked me, “So what is the solution? What can we do?” I'm here asking my own people, “What can we do?” That's why I have to ask, and you have to ask yourself the same questions. I think that's where I am focused. Focus on your own country, focus on your own issues, build up your own resistance, and take it from there.

Not everyone has the luxury of being outspoken or making radical career changes. I am aware of my own immense privilege in this aspect and am learning to continuously ask myself what I am accountable for in the contexts I encounter. That means holding myself to the same standard that I demand of others. As Themrise said, governments of so-called developing countries are not immune to the problematic dynamics that enable the white saviorism industry complex to thrive.

This is not about letting powerful institutions off the hook. There are institutions I will not work with ever again. There are places I will not go. There are offers I turn down. There are things I will continue to be open about. Frankly, it’s a great culling process for who approaches me now. It means there is less meaningless work to turn down. Less meaningless conversations with people I would rather not be spending time with. Most of all, I listen to my body. I’ve never regretted saying no to a project. But I can tell you, I’ve regretted going against my instincts and saying yes to things. As I look at the projects I’m working on now, I feel so deeply honored to be part of them, to be waking up every day to learn new things, to discover new horizons, to be solving new problems, collaborating with new people, and making new mistakes.

As Themrise emphasized, it's crucial to listen to our inner alarm bells. Each of us can foster positive change within our respective spheres, and that looks different for each one of us.