When Helping Hurts: Rethinking the Robot.

2026-08-22

What Are We Really Doing When We Give at the Robots?

Every morning, thousands of South Africans drive through the same intersections.

We stop at the red light.

And there they are.

A mother sitting on the pavement.

A child standing beside the traffic.

An elderly man holding out his hand.

Someone carrying a cardboard sign.

Someone tapping gently on the window.

Someone who looks as though they have nowhere else to go.

The light turns green.

We drive away.

And five minutes later, we have probably forgotten about them.

Until we meet them again tomorrow.

I have been thinking about these people a lot lately.

Not because I have suddenly discovered poverty. I have lived in South Africa long enough to know that poverty, unemployment, homelessness and addiction are not abstract concepts.

I see them at the robots.

I see children standing in traffic.

I see elderly people begging.

I see families.

I see people who appear to be struggling with addiction.

And I see motorists, including myself, trying to decide what to do.

Do we give them money?

Do we give them food?

Do we wind down the window?

Do we look away?

Do we pray?

Do we drive on?

There is no easy answer.

But perhaps there is a better question.

When I give money to someone at a robot, am I actually helping that person?

The Good Intention.

Most people who give money aren’t trying to do harm.

Quite the opposite.

They see a hungry child and their heart responds.

They see an old man standing in the cold and think, “I have R20. Perhaps this will help.”

They see a mother with children and think, “What if that were my family?”

That instinct to help is something we shouldn’t destroy.

Compassion is not the problem.

The problem is that compassion can sometimes be blind to consequences.

If we repeatedly reward a particular behaviour, we may unintentionally help maintain the circumstances we are trying to alleviate.

And that is where things become complicated.

The Child at the Robot.

A child standing in moving traffic is vulnerable.

That is true regardless of who the child is, where their parents came from, or what their family’s circumstances may be.

A child is a child.

When we see children moving between cars at an intersection, there are actually two problems in front of us.

There is poverty.

And there is danger.

Giving money may address neither problem permanently.

It may simply make the next day’s return to the same intersection more likely.

But Don’t Assume You Know the Whole Story.

This is where we need to be careful.

Seeing a parent sitting beside a road while children beg does not tell us everything about that family.

We don’t know their complete circumstances.

We don’t know whether they have tried to find work.

We don’t know whether they receive social assistance.

We don’t know whether addiction is involved.

We don’t know whether somebody else is controlling the money.

We don’t know whether the family is being exploited.

And we certainly shouldn’t assume that every person begging at a robot is dishonest.

Some people are genuinely desperate.

Some may be victims themselves.

Some may have made terrible choices.

Some may be fighting their way out of addiction.

Some may simply have nowhere else to go.

We don’t know.

So perhaps the answer isn’t to stop caring.

Perhaps the answer is to care more intelligently.

Don’t Stop Caring. Change What You Give.

If you normally give cash to people at the robots, consider changing the way you help.

But there is an important qualification here:

Even giving food or possessions needs to be done thoughtfully.

If you know, or have strong reason to suspect, that somebody is struggling with alcohol or drug dependency, handing over something that can easily be converted back into cash may not achieve what you intended.

A tin of food may seem like an obvious alternative to money.

And often it is.

But some items can potentially be exchanged or sold, particularly where someone is desperate to obtain alcohol or drugs.

The same consideration applies to clothing and other donated goods.

That does not mean we should stop giving food or clothing.

It means we should think about how we give it.

Give Something That Meets the Immediate Need.

If someone says they are hungry, consider something ready to eat:

• A sandwich.
• A piece of fruit.
• A bottle of water.
• A small prepared meal.
• Another simple, appropriate food item that can be consumed rather than easily resold.

If you want to provide clothing, consider giving it through an organisation that can assess the person’s circumstances and distribute it appropriately.

If you want to support accommodation, support an organisation that provides accommodation.

If you want to provide food regularly, consider supporting a feeding programme rather than creating an informal cash economy at the roadside.

The principle is simple:

Give something that meets the need you are actually trying to address.

If you want to provide food, provide food.

If you want to support recovery, support recovery services.

If you want to help with homelessness, support organisations working with homeless people.

Don’t automatically assume that unrestricted cash is the most compassionate option.

Compassion Requires Discernment.

This is an uncomfortable lesson.

Sometimes we can become so concerned about appearing compassionate that we stop asking whether our assistance is actually beneficial.

Imagine somebody gives an elderly man R20 because they believe he needs food.

If he is dependent upon alcohol and spends that R20 on liquor instead, the giver’s intention and the outcome are completely different things.

The giver intended to provide nourishment.

The money may instead have contributed to the person’s addiction.

That doesn’t make the elderly man worthless.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve compassion.

It means his actual problem may be bigger than hunger.

Perhaps what he needs is food, shelter, addiction treatment, social assistance, medical care, or somebody who knows how to connect him with those services.

The R20 cannot solve all of that.

Support Organisations That Can Do More Than You Can.

Most motorists have approximately thirty seconds at a robot.

We shouldn’t expect ourselves to solve homelessness in thirty seconds.

A reputable charity, church, shelter, feeding programme or social-service organisation may be able to do something that an individual motorist simply cannot.

That gives us another option.

Instead of giving R20 every day to whichever person happens to reach our window, perhaps we can put R200 a month into an organisation that works with vulnerable people every day.

That doesn’t make us less compassionate.

It may make our compassion more effective.

What About a Bible?

As a Christian, I have wondered about this one too.

Should I give someone a Bible?

Yes — sometimes.

But a Bible shouldn’t become a substitute for food, shelter, safety or practical assistance.

If somebody is hungry, give them food.

If somebody wants prayer, pray with them.

If somebody wants to know about Jesus, tell them about Jesus.

And if somebody needs professional social assistance, don’t pretend that handing them a Bible means we’ve solved the problem.

Jesus fed people.

Jesus listened to people.

Jesus healed people.

Jesus confronted destructive behaviour.

And Jesus told people to change.

Christian compassion has never meant pretending that destructive circumstances are acceptable.

What About an Encouragement Note?

This one may be more useful than we realise.

If you regularly see the same person at an intersection, perhaps an occasional handwritten note could communicate something money cannot:

“You are not invisible.”

“I hope things get better for you.”

“Please don’t give up.”

“I am praying for you.”

But even here, we should use common sense.

Don’t put yourself into an unsafe situation.

Don’t get out of your vehicle in dangerous traffic.

Don’t invite strangers into your vehicle.

Don’t promise things you cannot deliver.

And don’t create a relationship of dependency that you cannot maintain.

Compassion doesn’t require recklessness.

What If You See a Child in Danger?

This is different.

If you see a child in immediate danger, especially a child repeatedly entering moving traffic, don’t assume that handing the child money has solved the problem.

Where appropriate and safe, consider reporting the situation to the relevant authorities or social-development services.

You don’t have to become the investigator.

You don’t have to confront the parent.

You don’t have to put yourself in danger.

You can simply report what you observed and allow people whose job it is to investigate to do so.

The Elderly Person at the Robot.

Then there is another person we often overlook.

The old man.

Maybe he is sixty.

Maybe seventy.

Maybe older.

He may have spent most of his life working.

Perhaps he lost his job.

Perhaps his family abandoned him.

Perhaps he receives too little income to survive.

Perhaps alcohol has become part of his life.

Perhaps addiction destroyed opportunities he once had.

Perhaps he simply has nowhere else to go.

We shouldn’t romanticise his situation.

But neither should we stop seeing him as a human being.

If you believe he needs food, give food.

If you want to support him, consider supporting an organisation that works with homeless adults.

If he asks for prayer, pray.

If you know a legitimate local service that can help, give him that information.

And if he chooses to spend money on alcohol instead of food, remember something important:

You are not responsible for controlling another adult’s choices.

You can offer help.

You cannot force somebody to accept it.

The Trap of Enabling.

This is perhaps the hardest lesson of all.

Sometimes helping someone can slowly become enabling them.

We start with compassion.

Then we provide food.

Then money.

Then transport.

Then accommodation.

Then another loan.

Then another rescue.

Eventually we discover that we have become part of the person’s survival system.

And when they don’t change, we become angry.

That happened to me recently.

I tried to help people I knew who were experiencing homelessness and severe family problems.

I became emotionally invested in their situation.

I wanted them to find accommodation.

I wanted them to work.

I wanted them to rebuild their family.

And when they didn’t respond as I hoped, I became frustrated.

That frustration eventually contributed to an ugly confrontation in which I behaved badly.

I am not proud of that.

I am responsible for my own behaviour.

But the experience taught me something I should probably have understood earlier:

I cannot take responsibility for another adult’s responsibility.

I can help.

I can pray.

I can encourage.

I can provide food.

I can point somebody toward legitimate assistance.

But I cannot live their life for them.

The Motorist’s Dilemma.

So what should we do when the light turns red?

Perhaps we need a simple rule:

Don’t stop caring. Stop assuming that cash is the only way to care.

You could:

• Keep a few simple, ready-to-eat food items available where practical.
• Support a reputable local feeding programme.
• Support a shelter or outreach organisation.
• Donate clothing through an organisation that distributes it responsibly.
• Keep information about local social-development services available.
• Offer prayer when it is genuinely welcome.
• Give encouragement without making promises you cannot keep.
• Report children who appear to be in immediate danger rather than confronting adults yourself.
• Give practical assistance rather than unrestricted cash where appropriate.
• And above all, protect your own safety while driving.

You don’t have to do all of these things.

Choose one.

Then do it consistently.

We Cannot Fix Poverty at a Robot.

This is the uncomfortable truth.

The traffic light gives us thirty seconds.

Poverty may have taken thirty years to develop.

Add unemployment.

Add broken families.

Add addiction.

Add inadequate housing.

Add trauma.

Add poor education.

Add exploitation.

Add poor choices.

Add systems that may or may not work properly.

Add people who desperately need help but don’t know where to find it.

There is no R20 note capable of fixing all that.

And perhaps we should stop expecting it to.

The robot isn’t a social-services office.

It isn’t a rehabilitation centre.

It isn’t a school.

It isn’t a shelter.

It isn’t a church.

It isn’t a hospital.

It is an intersection.

And the people standing there are human beings whose circumstances are usually far more complicated than the thirty seconds we see through our windscreen.

So What Can We Do?

Perhaps the answer is neither:

“Give everybody money.”

nor:

“Ignore everybody.”

Perhaps the answer is:

“See the person. Think about the need. Help wisely.”

Give food when food is needed.

Give clothing when clothing is appropriate.

Support organisations doing sustained work.

Pray.

Encourage.

Report danger.

Protect children.

Maintain boundaries.

And remember that sometimes the most loving thing we can do is provide a pathway toward genuine help rather than simply making another day at the robot slightly more profitable.

A Christian Perspective.

Jesus said:

“Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

That is not a command to become naïve.

It is a command to remain compassionate.

We can refuse to enable destructive behaviour without refusing to see someone’s humanity.

We can establish boundaries without becoming cruel.

We can say no to cash while saying yes to food.

We can refuse to participate in exploitation while still praying for the person being exploited.

And we can remember that the person at the robot is not a problem to be disposed of.

They are a human being.

Perhaps they need help.

Perhaps they need accountability.

Perhaps they need rehabilitation.

Perhaps they need employment.

Perhaps they need food.

Perhaps they need shelter.

Perhaps they need somebody to tell them that they are still worth something.

Perhaps they need all of those things.

We may not be able to provide them ourselves.

But we can at least stop pretending that an occasional banknote through a car window is the complete answer.

The Next Time the Light Turns Red.

Look.

Don’t stare.

Don’t judge.

Don’t pretend you didn’t see.

And don’t automatically reach for your wallet either.

Ask yourself:

“What am I actually trying to accomplish by giving this money?”

Then, if you can, help in a way that moves the person one small step closer to something better.

Because compassion isn’t measured only by how much we give.

Sometimes it is measured by how wisely we give it.

END