Among people who want to have a positive impact on others, one of the best-established realities is that you can generally make a far greater difference where basic needs are not being met. In practice, this means that our donations can have a much larger impact in countries where extreme poverty is present. But this reality raises a legitimate question: by deciding from Paris or London which populations need help and how to help them, are we not reproducing colonialist or paternalist logics? Should we only offer help when local populations explicitly request it?
These questions deserve to be taken seriously. This article examines the various risks and analyses surrounding this topic. It also explores why effective giving, grounded in evidence and oriented toward the real needs of beneficiaries, represents an advance on these questions, without having answered them definitively.
The critique is not new, and it is not without foundation. For decades, researchers, journalists and humanitarian sector insiders themselves have pointed to structural dysfunctions in the way international aid is organised.
In the vast majority of international NGOs, those who decide on priorities, allocate budgets and define intervention strategies are based in wealthy countries. Local staff often occupy subordinate positions, with significant salary gaps for equivalent roles. This structure reproduces a hierarchy in which the beneficiaries of aid are systematically absent from the decisions that most directly concern them.
"Voluntourism" is a frequently cited example of this drift: short humanitarian stays during which Western volunteers, without any particular training, build schools, dig wells or care for orphans in poor countries. Studies have shown that some of these practices have counter-productive effects: poorly executed constructions that have to be rebuilt by local craftspeople, direct competition with the paid work of local professionals, and a sector organised more around the emotional experience of the volunteer than the real needs of the population. This is what American author Teju Cole called the "White Savior Industrial Complex": a system in which helping others becomes primarily an experience that elevates the helper, not a response to the needs of those it is supposed to benefit.
This dimension is not merely symbolic. Researchers have documented a measurable psychological reality: donors tend to treat adults living in poverty like children, assuming that conditional, controlled assistance will be more effective for them than assistance that leaves free choice.[1] This assumption is empirically false.
This bias materialises in in-kind aid: clothing unsuited to the context or climate, seeds incompatible with local soils, expired medicines. These items are given because the donor assumes they know better than the recipient what is needed. Giving cash would seem less controllable, riskier. In-kind aid reassures the giver, not necessarily the recipient.
Economists like Dambisa Moyo, in Dead Aid, or Angus Deaton, in The Great Escape, have pushed this critique further: some forms of aid do not address the political causes of poverty, they can even mask them.[2] By funding services that states should provide, or by keeping failing governments on life support, some aid has delayed necessary institutional reforms and reduced states' accountability to their own citizens. This is not a critique of all aid: it is a targeted critique of poorly designed forms of aid, and it deserves to be heard.
International aid faces three distinct objections that each deserve serious examination.
Distributing bed nets or vitamins does not address the economic and political structures that produce poverty. The risk would be to fund palliative interventions indefinitely, sustaining dependency rather than working to make it unnecessary. Some aid organisations would even have an implicit interest in maintaining the need rather than making it disappear.
When an effective NGO takes over public services in a region, it can, unintentionally, reduce political pressure on the state to develop its own systems. Families grow accustomed to receiving care from a foreign NGO rather than demanding it from their government. At scale, this can erode the legitimacy of local institutions and weaken democratic accountability in the long term.
Interventions are designed in distant offices, without genuine consultation with the communities concerned. They arrive with pre-defined solutions rather than emerging from locally expressed needs. In some cases, external presence can even short-circuit community organising dynamics that would have been more effective and more durable.
These three objections do not carry equal weight. The first is partially right but incomplete. The second is a real risk that must be taken seriously. The third conceals an important ambiguity, which the next section will unpack.
One can fully agree with the observation that past interventions have often ignored the real needs of populations, and disagree with the conclusion that only explicitly requested interventions should be funded. The problem lies in the "because" that connects these two positions.
Imposing your values on others ("you should educate your daughters", "your tradition is wrong") is genuinely paternalistic: you substitute your own vision of the good for that of the people concerned.
Providing medical expertise that is not locally accessible is different. The link between micronutrient deficiency and irreversible blindness is specialised medical knowledge, produced by decades of research, that is not accessible without training.
This is an information asymmetry, not a value asymmetry. And these two situations call for very different moral responses.
Every year, between 250,000 and 500,000 children go blind from vitamin A deficiency, and half of them die within twelve months.[3] Studies conducted in Ghana, Kenya and other sub-Saharan African countries show that the main barrier to adopting supplementation is not parental refusal, but lack of information about the causal link and access to the medicine itself.[4] When mothers receive nutritional education, uptake rates increase significantly. These mothers want their children to be healthy: it is a universal and deeply held preference. They do not "ask" for supplementation not because they do not want it, but because they have no way of knowing that this is what their children need.
Conditioning funding on explicit demand would mean funding vitamin A supplementation only where medical information is already present — precisely where the need is least urgent.
In some rural areas of Madagascar, surveys found that fewer than half of villagers identified bed nets as a tool for protection against malaria, and that only 73% knew that transmission occurs through mosquitoes.[5] Yet all of them wanted their children not to die. The gap was not in their ultimate values. It was in knowledge of the causal links between mosquito, parasite and disease.
There is something paradoxical about the idea of refusing an effective intervention in the name of "respecting the autonomy" of populations. Real autonomy — the capacity to make choices, to organise, to claim rights — starts with being alive and healthy. Sociologists have shown that it is precisely when material insecurity decreases that movements for justice, institutional reform and political emancipation tend to strengthen. Material security is not the opposite of political agency: it is often its precondition.
Between "deciding for populations" and "acting only on explicit demand" lies a third path: starting from the deep and universal preferences of populations (to live, to be healthy, to see their children grow up) and mobilising available expertise to serve them. That is precisely what effective giving seeks to do.
Effective giving is not simply a critique of traditional aid. It is a rigorous attempt to build something different. Its founding principles respond directly to the problems identified in the preceding sections.
The central question is not "what seems right to give?" nor "what makes me feel good?", but "what genuinely improves the lives of the people concerned as much as possible?" This shift in compass may seem obvious, but it is far from the norm in the sector.
This is the starting point of the effective altruism movement, which emerged in the early 2010s around philosophers like William MacAskill and Peter Singer. The core idea is simple: if you genuinely want to help others, you need to apply the same rigour you use in other important areas of your life to finding out which actions actually produce the best improvements in life for the people concerned. This means relying on available data, comparing interventions, accepting that some apparently generous approaches are ineffective, and that others, less intuitive, are far more impactful.
Mieux Donner applies these principles to direct giving toward the most effective organisations and interventions. For donations targeting extreme poverty and global health, this means in practice relying on the work of independent evaluators like GiveWell, which devotes thousands of hours to analysing randomised controlled trials, field impact data and financial reports to identify the interventions that produce the best life improvements per dollar spent. The result is often counterintuitive: multiple analyses show that there is no correlation between an organisation's size, age and actual effectiveness. The best charities can deliver 100 times more impact than the average.
Here is how these principles translate concretely in the recommended organisations:
Acknowledging that effective giving represents an advance on these questions does not imply that it has fully answered them. Three limitations deserve to be named honestly.
The critique of paternalism and neo-colonialism in international aid is legitimate. We would all prefer to live in a world where extreme poverty does not exist, where basic care is provided by functioning governments everywhere. That is not the world we live in.
Not wanting to support projects that might have more negative consequences than positive ones is a necessary attitude, one that has not always been present in international aid. Particularly when that aid took the form of cathartic giving, designed from above without consulting populations, serving the preferences of those who give rather than the needs of those who receive.
However, deciding to do nothing is not necessarily the best contribution. The tools and evaluators of effective giving seek precisely to serve the real preferences of beneficiaries with the best available evidence. The right question is not "who gives, and from where?" but "what actually helps?" Evidence-based giving is the most rigorous effort to answer that question. It is not exempt from limitations, it is in continuous improvement, and that is why the critique remains useful: not to reject effective giving, but to refine it continuously.
We select charities whose impact is demonstrated by rigorous evidence, and present them transparently to help you give with confidence.
Discover recommended charities →Two very different situations need to be distinguished. Imposing your values on other people — deciding for them what they should eat, how they should raise their children, or which traditions they should abandon — is genuinely paternalistic and unacceptable. But providing medical expertise that populations cannot acquire on their own is different. For example, parents in low-income countries deeply want their children to be healthy and not go blind. What they often do not know, for lack of access to medical information, is that a simple vitamin A deficiency is the leading preventable cause of childhood blindness in these regions, and that a capsule twice a year can prevent it. This is not imposing a value: it is putting expertise at the service of a preference that already exists.
Geographic origin is not a good indicator of an organisation's effectiveness. Some local organisations can be highly effective; others achieve little despite good intentions. The same is true of large international NGOs. Analyses conducted in Cameroon by humanitarian development professionals showed no correlation between an organisation's size, age or prominence and its actual impact on populations. The effective giving approach consists precisely of evaluating interventions independently of their origin, using clinical trials, field data and cost-effectiveness analyses, to identify those that improve the most lives per dollar spent, whether they are local or international.
This is a real risk that serious evaluators take into account. If a foreign organisation permanently takes over health service delivery from a state, it can reduce the pressure from citizens on their government to develop its own capacities. The best interventions are designed to avoid this pitfall. Some work directly with local health ministries, which retain direction of campaigns. Others, like the Lead Exposure Elimination Project (LEEP), help governments adopt regulations and strengthen their own oversight capacities, with the explicit goal of disappearing once their mission is accomplished. Effective giving does not seek to replace local institutions: it seeks to strengthen them.
Effective giving draws on the effective altruism movement, which emerged in the 2010s around philosophers like William MacAskill and Peter Singer. Its founding principle is simple: if you genuinely want to help others, you need to apply the same rigour you use in other important decisions to find out which actions actually produce the best improvements in life for the people concerned. Concretely, this means relying on randomised controlled trials, independent impact evaluations and cost-effectiveness analyses, rather than intuition or emotion. Unlike traditional aid, which often starts from donor preferences, effective giving starts from the needs and preferences of beneficiaries. Effective altruism applies these principles to direct giving toward the charities whose impact is best documented.
Published 4 May 2026