Oxfam, criminal conspiracy

Dalrymple writes that for years he banged on that Oxfam was

a criminal organisation.

People, he says,

would roll their eyes.

He asks:

Are they rolling their eyes now?

Orgies with underage prostitutes in Haïti are, Dalrymple writes,

the least of it. The orgies are a market-driven stimulus for the Haïtian economy, if an extremely tasteless and immoral one. That is more than can be said for most of Oxfam’s activities.

Bogus charity’s extreme hypocrisy

Oxfam’s real aim, he points out,

is to provide employment to those who work for it. (Governments are of course the biggest donors to this corrupt scheme.)

Legalised fraud

Money donated to Oxfam ends up in the pockets of those who work for it, including the staff, numbering 888 at the last count, at the fake charity’s grandiloquent head office in London.

Dalrymple notes that

the hypocrisy of this legalised fraud is symbolic of very many modern activities.

Oxfam

is not the only criminal in this field, and may not be the worst. The field itself is criminal.

Proconsuls of the Apocalypse

Supposed humanitarian aid has, writes Dalrymple,

hitherto been auto-legitimating, and has always relied on donors mistaking the wish for the fact.

NGOs, he points out, are

arrogant and behave with a kind of imperial impunity in the impoverished countries in which they operate. It is the imperial or proconsular nature of the organisations and their work that appeals to the ‘humanitarians’ that they employ. It is the power in the power to do good, or confer benefits, that attracts them.

Do not give to fake charities

…unless you want to fund full-on filmed Caligula orgies

Dalrymple points out that most people, when they drop a coin into an Oxfam rattling tin or make a regular contribution by standing order,

think they are paying for blankets for the young victims of earthquakes, not orgies for Oxfam staff.

Previously they had only a hazy idea of where their money went. Now they have a clearer view.

Many other bogus charities are guilty of the same kind of waste, of course.

Inspiration for the Oxfam orgies

Looking up the accounts of the British Red Cross online, Dalrymple discovers that

of the 8% that the commerce branch of the Red Cross turned over to the charity, a fifth went in advertising and more than half in the salaries of the people working for the Red Cross.

Further investigation of the accounts of large British charities demonstrates that

for most of them, charity definitely begins at home.

Oxfam, for instance,

employs 888 full-time workers at its headquarters.

Oxfam’s malversation of funds

The bogus charity Oxfam, writes Dalrymple,

is a Pecksniffian organisation, given to auto-beatification,

so much so that

when I pass the Oxfam shop in my small town, with its unctuous slogan Thank you for being humankind in the window, it is with difficulty that I resist the urge to throw a brick through it.

Like many large self-righteous British charities, Oxfraud

has long been a villainous organisation — and the sexual exploits (or should I say exploitations?) of its workers in Haïti and elsewhere are the least of it. In the moral sense, though not the legal, it has for many years been guilty of fraud, of misleading the public.

Dalrymple first realised this some years ago when

I found a used-book dealer of my long acquaintance poring in his shop over Oxfam’s annual accounts.

‘Look at this,’ he said, but I saw nothing until he pointed it out to me.

Oxfam, in common with many other charities in Britain,

runs thrift shops in practically every British town. Such shops are more numerous even than Indian restaurants: they allow people to give away unwanted belongings in the belief that they are furthering a good cause. My acquaintance pointed out that, despite receiving their goods free of charge, paying practically nothing for their labour (which is voluntary), and paying much reduced local taxes, Oxfam shops make a profit on turnover of a mere 17%, much less than his own, despite his incomparably greater expenses.

Dalrymple asks:

How was such a thing possible, by what miracle of disorganisation (or malversation of funds)? Until then, I had carelessly assumed that the great majority of any money that I gave to a large charity went to serve its ostensible end.

Oxfam’s Caligula orgy of money-grubbing

Big Charity at play

Oxfam speaks as from the moral high ground; its actions are very different

Dalrymple notes that Oxfam, the state-funded faux charity, actively promotes

the single most disastrous economic idea of all time, that the economy is a cake and a slice for me means crumbs for you.

Oxfam speaks

as from the moral high ground, but is far from morally unimpeachable. The group’s self-presentation is grossly dishonest.

Charity is no longer charity

Dalrymple draws attention to the single most important fact about Oxfam, that

the majority of its money comes from government — from the forced contributions of taxpayers in various countries. An organisation so financially dependent upon forced contributions cannot be called a charity at all.

An odious soi-disant charity, then, one which

systematically misleads its volunteers. It promotes highly contentious views on the one hand and is less than scrupulous in its dealings with its supporters on the other.

A state-dependent racket that exists for its staff

Oxfam so loves the poor, writes Dalrymple,

that it is safe to predict that it will never abolish itself no matter how rich humanity becomes.

There is no market, he says,

in which there is no rigging, either formal or informal, but I suspect that Oxfam’s preferred solution to an inevitable degree of rigging is complete rigging by philosopher-kings such as themselves.

The appeal to envy and hatred

Oxfam’s propaganda, Dalrymple points out,

is an incitement to envy, one of the seven deadly sins.

It doesn’t sound much like charity at all, does it? It is in fact, Dalrymple points out,

more like a government-subsidised scheme for those who work in it.

Up at the Oxfam villa

 

Please give generously to Unicef

Hope for every bureaucrat

Dalrymple writes that staff of the United Nations Children’s Fund are in evidence in the streets of London and other Western towns and cities,

with beatific smiles on their faces, rattling their tins.

Please, if there is any decency in you, be charitable and donate. Dalrymple explains that Unicef needs to raise funds — large sums are needed — for Unicef employees’

• annual leave
• dependency allowances
• medical insurance
• dental insurance
• pensions
• rental subsidies
• education grants
• home leave
• life insurance
• paid sick leave
• family leave
• family visits
• maternity leave
• paternity leave
• adoption leave
• special leave

All these things cost money; please give as much as you can. And as you hand over your cash, dismiss from your mind the fact that Unicef is, as Dalrymple reminds us,

the perpetrator of one of the greatest mass poisonings in human history: arsenic in the water from ground wells in Bangladesh.

 

Godless people in the grip of sentimentality hold up their ikon

Dalrymple writes:

In a country in which sentimentality has so powerful a grip, no one could criticise the late Jo Cox’s ‘commission on loneliness’ without appearing heartless.

Cox

was already a secular saint: she had spent much of her career in a senior position in Oxfam, the antipoverty ‘charity’ whose largest contributor by far is the British government and which derives by far the greater part of its funds from public bodies. Her husband worked in another such ‘charity’ whose largest donor by far was also the British government.

Defeat of the little platoons

The UK’s social policy, writes Dalrymple,

has been to smash up all forms of social solidarity or support for the vulnerable that do not pass through the state.

He points out that the crushing of the little platoons

has been thorough: most large ‘charities’ in Britain are now dependent on government rather than on private funding, and hence are in effect departments of state.

Decay of the second-hand bookshop

Dalrymple writes that he has been

obsessed by books all my life,

and today he feels

the melancholy that I suppose old artisans must once have felt when their trade became industrialised. All these years I have been on the wrong, or at least losing, side of history.

In England, he points out, second-hand bookshops have been killed by

• the internet
• the odious soi-disant charity Oxfam
• the loss of interest in browsing other than on a computer

A bogus charity

Many proud Oxfam employees are richly supported. Indeed they are comparatively very highly paid. The ‘charity’ states that this is owing to the need to ‘attract, motivate and retain highly skilled and committed executives’

By far the largest donor to Oxfam Australia, notes Dalrymple, is

the Australian government, which contributed slightly more than 26% of its total income — almost enough to cover the nearly 29% of its income it expended on raising funds.

It spent $3m last year on

long-service leave of its senior employees. We learn that remuneration for ‘key management personnel’ (number unspecified) rose by 16% between 2014 and 2015, from $821,000 to $952,000. (The head of Oxfam UK is paid somewhat over $200,000 a year.) No explanation for the rise is offered.

Properous employees

Explaining why remuneration is so relatively lavish at what is supposed to be a charity, Oxfam states:

The performance of the Group depends upon the quality and commitment of its senior management. To prosper, the Group must attract, motivate and retain highly skilled and committed executives.

A State-dependent racket that exists for its staff

Dalrymple comes across an advertisement for a job at Oxfam. The ‘charity’ indicates certain selection criteria:

• experience in defining use cases and business rules and processes with a strong engagement of customer groups
• experience in successfully mapping and documenting business and technical requirements, process diagrams, scenarios, and test plans based on conversations with the technical team and customers

The successful candidate will be paid $75,783 plus superannuation and

access to generous NFP tax concessions (specifically, a salary packaging scheme offering up to $18,450 of your salary tax-free).

Could this, asks Dalrymple, be

tax avoidance? Surely not. I may be behind the times, but Oxfam doesn’t sound much like charity to me, more like a government-subsidised scheme for those who work in it.