After hearing an NPR piece about a man who risked his life to sneak into the U.S. to earn money for a sick daughter, Kathy Khazen wanted to do something.
So did about 20 other listeners from around the country.
The story of Julio Cuellar was compelling. When Cuellar learned his pregnant daughter had cancer, he knew he needed more money than he earned as a low-paying policeman in El Salvador. He hired a smuggler and tried to get to the U.S. But he didn’t make it.
“Julio has diabetes and nearly died in the Arizona desert,” NPR Correspondent Jennifer Ludden reported on April 7. “He ran out of insulin and became sick, and his smuggler abandoned him. It was two days with no food or shelter before he was rescued by the U.S. Border Patrol. What would make someone do this — especially a middle-aged man with a full-time job? Julio’s daughter, Guadalupe, blames herself.”
Ludden and producer Marisa Penaloza discovered Cuellar at the airport in El Salvador just after he was deported from the U.S. He’d lost 40 pounds, felt humiliated, and was behind on payments for his two-bedroom house.
Then came the emails and phone calls from listeners after the story aired.
“Not only is the man in deeper debt than before, but he is ill, his (daughter) has cancer and he is going to lose his house most likely,” wrote Moira Berman from San Diego. “I would like to send him a little cash just to help him through a couple of days.”
The problem of how to deal with listener generosity arises regularly at NPR and other news organizations. But the reality is that there are often hundreds of people in similar situations as Cuellar’s — they just didn’t have the random luck to become the subject of a story.
Ludden and Penaloza probably could have found any number of heart-breaking stories among the 33 men and nine women deported on the same day Cuellar was sent back to El Salvador.
How should news organizations handle these offers of help from listeners?
The answer is more straightforward after catastrophes like the Myanmar cyclone or the China earthquake. Those tragedies involve tens of thousands of people, each story more desperate than the one before. Then, it makes sense to send listeners to big-name, charitable organizations, such as the International Committee of the Red Cross or Doctors Without Borders, and let experts determine how to best spend donations.
Until last week, NPR had avoided listing specific organizations out of concern for recommending one over another, said managing editor Brian Duffy. An outpouring of offers to help on NPR’s Chengdu Diary blog caused the organization to amend that policy.
But sending money to individuals can be more problematic — especially if they live outside the country. Should money be funneled through NPR? Should NPR set up an account? Should NPR put listeners in touch with the story subject?
Correspondent Eric Westervelt ran into this issue recently with two people he profiled in Iraq. Majid Hameed was a former blacksmith who lost both arms and his job as the result of a car bomb. He now sells trinkets to support his wife and five sons. The other was Dana Hussein, a 21-year-old female runner. She is one of four Iraqis who have qualified for the Olympics in Beijing, but she has to train in torn sneakers while dodging sniper fire.
“I had people writing that they wanted to give money to get Hameed some arms but they need my help,” said Westervelt. “Short of some listeners sending money to my bank account and me handing out the money, I don’t see how to do it.”
He referred listeners to Doctors Without Borders in Iraq, but later learned the group does not provide prosthetics. “So I was back to square one,” said Westervelt. “He needs arms and he needs arms he can only get out of the country. It’s frustrating.”
And it’s problematic for Westervelt to get involved. Let’s say listeners find a way to help Hameed get arms. What about others in need of prosthetic limbs? Isn’t it likely they would contact Westervelt after hearing he helped Hameed?
“As a human being, I want to help and channel listeners’ good will,” Westervelt said. “As a journalist, it’s not my role and we don’t have a mechanism to help.”
How to handle listener generosity is an area where many news organizations are unsure. A casual check with members of the Organization of News Ombudsmen indicated that few newspapers have specific policies. (CNN does have a webpage where people can donate directly to causes.)
But NPR and other news organizations are clear on one point: All refuse to handle donations directly or act as a clearinghouse. News organizations don’t have the resources to be accountable for charitable money they receive. Nor are they set up to help people in need.
“I know that such personal involvement with donations can create problems for both the newspaper and for the individual receiving it,” wrote Tim McNulty, The Chicago Tribune’s public editor, in an email.
“Some examples of what can go awry: a family in a refugee camp getting special help because they were featured in a story could generate jealousy and resentment among their neighbors; a correspondent identified as someone who hands out cash could also become a tempting target; and imagine a reader sending a check to us that gets cashed by someone else, or the intended receiver says he/she never got the money.”
While there are many reasons for news organizations to not get involved, Ludden and Penaloza felt it would be cruel to refuse to help people reach the Cuellar family. They pointed listeners to Western Union and gave them the family’s cell phone number.
Listener Khazen found someone fluent in Spanish to call Cuellar’s daughter.
“She told us that we needed to include the city and state from where the money was sent so that they would let her pick up the money,” said Khazen. “So my friend and I went immediately to the nearest Western Union office here in town and they sent the money immediately to El Salvador.” She later confirmed the Cuellars received the money.
In fall 2007, NPR Correspondent Howard Berkes and producer Penaloza did two stories about Army Specialist Ronald Hinkle, who served in Iraq. After returning injured, Hinkle was so plagued with health and financial problems that his family almost lost their ranch. Listeners inundated NPR with offers of help.
NPR often gets Andi Sporkin, vice president of communications, involved in cases like these. Berkes called Sporkin and both worked to find a way to honor philanthropic urges without compromising the journalistic standard of acting independently. The Hinkle story also involved a specific military family support group, USA Cares, which had already been assisting the Hinkles. Berkes was familiar with the group from earlier stories about military families.
Listeners were referred to USA Cares, which had set up a bank account for contributions to the family. That way Berkes could step out of the way and focus on reporting. “I cannot be in the business of collecting money on people’s behalf,” Berkes says. “My role stops with the information.”
The Hinkles received more than $35,000 from listeners and saved the ranch, according to Berkes.
“There really isn’t a formula,” said Sporkin. “You want to help but you also have to be careful. It’s a fine line. Whoever the person is that listeners want to help has opened up their lives to you and you don’t want to expose them to rip-off artists or people who will take advantage of them. You need to size up each situation.”
It is always safer for a news organization to find one reputable organization to help individuals. But there isn’t always an obvious organization that can help, as was the case with Cuellar. While these cases tug at everyone’s heart, a journalist’s job is not about collecting money. Good journalism is about storytelling and informing the world.
NPR reporters, as much as possible, should turn these offers of help over to Sporkin for her department to handle. And the network might explore creating a website similar to CNN’s “Impact Your World” that makes donating to benefit others only a click away.
