The Beauty and Benefits of Tzu Chi Uniforms

A previous version of this post was published in Tzu Chi USA Journal.

From a stranger’s perspective, the volunteer uniform of Tzu Chi must seem like an anachronistic, culturally awkward anomaly. When you first hear of them, you may think, "You’ve got to be joking me. Uniforms? In America? I just want to let you know that this is not Taiwan! This is not Communist China, comrade! What about our individuality? Our ability to express ourselves? Uniforms are for people working at McDonald’s or the military. Not that there's anything wrong with those places..."

So the complaints begin, and then people see the uniform. At that point they start to sputter, "What kind of uniform is this? White pants, white collars, buttoned up all the way, with belts and white shoes? Women tie their hair back, boys cut their hair down. This is like the military. I’m not here to join the military. Plus the color white is impractical! It’ll get dirty in two seconds!"

As the complaints come, you can feel the anxiety, the sense of the loss of control. Young people seeking to be fashionable, be warned. You may need to compromise your insistence on doing your own thing. Joining an organization does require—oh my goodness—at times doing things in unison with others.

But like everything in Tzu Chi, there are reasons, and although you may have concerns initially, with careful examination and reflection, your worries should subside. Indeed, there are rational reasons for (most of) "the way things are done" in Tzu Chi. The Buddha always told his followers to question everything, to never just accept anything just because he was the Buddha, a sage, or someone wise. This applies to uniforms and other "rules" as well. If it makes sense, accept it, and if it does not, just forget about it (fugeddabout it).

Uniforms eliminate, for one, a number of physical barriers that fashionable clothing creates. Fashion creates a feeling of haves and have-nots. I have the money to buy pretty clothes and jewelry, and you do not. But when choices of individual clothing are eliminated, so too are the tensions that come between social classes: no more status, no more who is wealthier than who.

More importantly, as volunteers, we need to be professional. Yes, it is true that if you volunteer at a hospital, the Red Cross, or work with Boy Scouts or Girl Scouts, or even work at the department store or McDonald’s, you will observe that uniforms create a sense of professionalism and unity. This requires that we not only dress alike so that people can recognize us, but also that the way we dress is neat and clean, not disheveled and messy.

Third, uniforms build community recognition, like a name-brand. As volunteers we represent the organization. By wearing the uniform, we are building up a presence so that strangers can recognize us. In some countries where Tzu Chi volunteers are long-recognized for their reliability and efficiency, Tzu Chi volunteers are called "the blue angels," donning the blue and white uniform. In those places, uniforms are lucrative. Everybody wants to wear the uniform and they are sometimes imitated, worn by pretenders seeking to collect money for their own purposes.

There is a fourth reason which I only recently understood and which is the most esoteric but possibly the most important: The uniform changes our mindset. No, I am not talking about “magic” or anything like that. I am talking pure psychology. There have been recent research that shows that students perform better and are perceived to be performing better, when they are dressed formally rather than casually. What does this mean? It means that our clothes – this superficial piece of thing covering our body – changes our mindsets. The psychologists called it "enclothed cognition."

It is in this changed mindset that Tzu Chi volunteers not only wear the uniform, but the Tzu Chi face, the smile, the genuine warmth and care. By wearing the uniform, you need to remember the entire uniform, not just merely the clothes—the warm smiling face, the hair nearly combed, shirt tucked in, shoes clean, and so on. This is why the uniform is called “the garment of gentleness and tolerance” (柔和忍辱衣).

Thus, most images of buddhas and bodhisattvas are dressed most elegantly – sometimes simply and sometimes extravagantly. The clothes that we wear and the appearance that we present give off a feeling to ourselves and to others. This feeling can change our minds. When wearing a very expensive piece of jewelry or beautiful fine clothes, we are more mindful and careful. In the same way, when we wear nice clothing, our minds too are also sharpened to be more careful.

Yet the purpose of wearing Tzu Chi uniform’s and other "spiritual garments" are entirely different from that of secular clothes. Whereas in most situations people “dress to impress” others and to make themselves feel attractive through their clothes, in Tzu Chi the reasons for wearing the uniform are quite different. The clothes should make us feel more humble, more dignified, with the purpose of benefiting others, not to aggrandize oneself. 

Once, when I was chanting a prayer and as I was making mental and physical offerings of incense, flowers, fine garments, beautiful houses, everything in the universe, at that point I realized that even the clothes that we wear are an offering to others—we offer others our bodies and with it our garments to others.

When we have given others our bodies, what use to us is our own clothes? As a friend and fellow volunteer Isaac once recounted to me in person when he visited Afghanistan in 2002 on a relief trip with Tzu Chi, he could not help but give away nearly everything he had on him—gloves, scarf, etc.

So, too, has Shantideva, the eighth century Indian scholar of Nalanda University, taught in his truly wonderful Bodhicaryavatara, one of my most favorite books, particularly in the third chapter on adopting the spirit of awakening:

Surrendering everything is nirvana, 

and my mind seeks nirvana. 

If I must surrender everything, 

it is better that I give it to sentient beings.

It is with this attitude, too, that I have also become more comfortable in wearing anything, not only Tzu Chi uniforms, but "fancy clothes." I wear not the attitude of "look how nice I look," but rather "I wear this for the benefit of others."

But if you wear the uniform – or any piece of clothing or qipao (a beautiful traditional Chinese-style garment) – and you feel a morsel of pride or arrogance on your physical beauty (or alternatively you gripe about your perceived ugliness), then, alas, you've totally missed the point. The clothes are not about "you" or however you perceive "you." It is quite the contrary. 

When Master Cheng Yen established Tzu Chi Foundation in 1966, she immediately knew that volunteers ought to have a uniform for the above four (if not more) reasons — equality among volunteers, professionalism, community recognition, its capacity to transform our minds. Up to this point, most will agree, but many may still protest against the white pants and white shoes. Is this really necessary, some ask, to have white clothing? Don’t you think it will get dirty quickly?

Actually, when Master Cheng Yen was creating the uniform, she knew to draw on symbols, as does much of Buddhist and Chinese culture (which are, by the way, separate and distinct). The blue top represents the sky, the white pants represent the clouds. (Actually, I’m not sure what the white collar represents.) In sum the actual uniform represents the vast expanse of the sky, which should be our attitude towards all sentient beings, enveloping and embracing everyone.

Several decades ago, when Master Cheng Yen went to visit the poor with other volunteers, as they left the wet area, everyone’s shoes were covered in mud—except for Master Cheng Yen’s, which were without even a speck of dirt. People were amazed. How did she do that?

I was mindful, she said, no doubt very matter-of-factly. (Just do it!)

Thus the uniform not only reminds us to be professional and efficient in the organizational sense, but reminds us to uphold the practices of Tzu Chi—mindfulness, attention, and care (a critical "skilful means" in Buddhist language). In many ways the uniform is like a protecting shield, armor against our wild inattention. When we wear the uniform, we should be acutely aware that we represent tens of thousands of Tzu Chi volunteers around the world. Master Cheng Yen. Gratitude. Great love. Mindfulness. Sentient beings.

So, you see, there’s much more to the uniform than you’d first think. The uniform is not just about ME, MYSELF, and I. Step back a moment, realize that individuality is just a Western concept of your identity. Take a breath and remember why you joined Tzu Chi. You joined because you wanted to help people. In fact, you were inspired that so many people had the heart to help people. People. That’s right. People not just yourself. And by people, we in Tzu Chi mean, all sentient beings. Yes, including that mosquito buzzing in your ear that just bit you.

In the world of Tzu Chi, if you listen and observe so carefully to that point that you can listen with your eyes and watch with your ears, you discover a whole new world of much greater meaning that you had ever imagined. I invite all Tzu Chi volunteers, old and new, to just open your eyes and ears, to absorb and reflect more mindfully this world and Tzu Chi’s place in it. I know we’ll discover more than we never knew before.

The Art and Science of Finding and Helping the 'Poor': Tzu Chi's Charity Mission

A core tenet of Tzu Chi Foundation is to "help the poor and educate the rich" (濟貧教富). It sounds so simple, right -- to "help the poor"?

"Poverty" as a topic studied by economists
Before one can help the poor, one must first define "who is poor?" I'm no social worker, but I have studied the field of "development" along with health economics since college. And there's one thing that I know: measuring poverty ain't a piece of cake, at least from an economist's view of the world. There are reams and reams of academic literature on how to best measure poverty. If you search Google Scholar for "measurement poverty", there are at least 1.17 million papers that come up, with Amartya Sen's classic paper "Poverty: an ordinal approach to measurement" at the top of the list with 2,124 citations.

Today there are basically two standard ways to measure poverty in the economic literature. The first involves counting how much you spend on every possible commodity and service out there (consumption expenditure) as a proxy for 'income', doing so for everyone else in your neighborhood (or state or country), and then drawing a line ('the poverty line'), and counting all those below that line as 'poor'. Some make that line universal ($1 or $2 a day), while some would make that line specific to a nation, to urban or rural areas, or other specific locale. It also means, in crude terms, that the less you spend, the poorer you are.

The second involves counting all the things or "assets" you have in your house, and then comparing that to everyone else in the neighborhood (or state or country). You assign weights to those assets (e.g. weigh all assets equally or weigh each asset differently, by obtaining the weights through various methods, such as principal components analysis). Then you assign each household an index based on their assets and the weights to each asset, and then you can rank households on that index. Then you can take the bottom 20% (bottom quintile) or whatever "bottom" you prefer. This definition also implies crudely that the less you have, the poorer you are.

These two economic methods are seen as complementary and not without flaws. For example, the former consumption expenditure method often is subject to under-reporting of spending and hence there are often mismatches when aggregating to the national level when comparing to other sources of data to estimate national spending. The former requires trying to recall how much you spent in the last month or year. The latter involves self-reports on what you own (if not obvious from visual inspection by an interviewer). Both can be quite time intensive, because it involves a lot of questions from a survey, and asking a large number of people through a population representative household survey or census.

But, a new study has found -- in spite of a few decades of economic research and lots of thinking and lots of PhD these on this topic -- ironically, there is a much simpler way to find out whether someone is poor, without having to determine the poverty of every single household in the neighborhood (or state or nation) through such a detailed, extensive survey. It turns out, you can just have them tell you if they are poor or not. Surprise, surprise! Common sense beats research: Common sense, 1. Research, 0.

How Tzu Chi finds the poor
It also turns out that Tzu Chi has been doing this since its inception. If a person requests help, Tzu Chi volunteers will reach out and assess whether in fact that person needs help, and then help them as needed. Assessment involves home visits and inquiries and verification of the household's livelihood and lifestyle. It's Social Work 101, folks (I'm addressing the economists reading this blog). So, how does Tzu Chi find and find and help the poor, exactly?

Well, Tzu Chi has a large force of social workers, professional ones as well as supporting volunteers. Social workers have a method for assessing the household's economic situation, livelihood, and various needs. The social worker may observe that a person has fallen ill, lost her job, and has lost her income for the month. The person may be just above some government cut-off for welfare, but nevertheless still require help. Or the case may deemed needy for a multitude of other reasons, even if the person is already receiving some form of government assistance.

I note that there is one other and newer strand of research on poverty measurement, which attempts to reflect the multidimensionality of poverty, not limited merely to how much one spends or how much one spends, for example, to account for education levels and health status of household members, etc. Tzu Chi's approach to assessing potential social work and charity cases, I imagine, probably reflects aspects of all these different approaches to measuring poverty -- how much a household spends, how much the household has, and other factors in the household. (Master's or bachelor's thesis topic, anyone?)

How Tzu Chi helps the poor
So far I've made the argument that Tzu Chi's approach to measuring and identifying the poor is both practical and "cutting edge". But Tzu Chi's approach to helping the poor has also been equally pragmatic as well.

Tzu Chi has long provided "cash transfers" and "cash assistance" to its social work cases since its inception. Tzu Chi will step up to offer cash assistance as needed until the person no longer needs it, with regular case visits and support and accompaniment (陪伴), a term that I have pulled from Paul Farmer's work in Haiti, but is also a term that has been long used within Tzu Chi. The act of accompanying others cannot be underestimated, and Tzu Chi has done this from the beginning of its work. It means that the mere presence of another person to co-suffer with the person undergoing suffering is effective at alleviating suffering. While some economists or even medical researchers might view this as a "placebo effect" ("you're not giving them any 'treatment' per se"), in fact the "treatment" is be there with someone. And we know from neuroscience and psychology that simply "being there" matters. (More on this as a separate post!)

Sometimes the needs of the poor are cannot be solved by cash alone. If the social worker identifies that because of her falling ill, she hasn't been able to take care of herself, take showers, cook, or clean her house, and she needs some assistance in kind, Tzu Chi volunteers will step in to help. Not only do the volunteers do a professional job (in their blue-and-white uniforms), the volunteers also cheer people up, too, and offer their accompaniment. Hassle-free help.

Basically, any and all needs that Tzu Chi can provide, be it financial or in kind, they will do it if help is requested and needed. As Brother Zach Tse (謝景貴) once told me, "If you told a 85-year-old Tzu Chi granny volunteer that someone in the neighboring town is poor and needs help, that old lady would stand up right away and say, 'Where is she? Let's go!'" That epitomizes the go-getter attitude of Tzu Chi volunteers. Where there is a call for help, there they wish to be. It's no small wish to be like Avalokiteśvara, a being or a person who has vowed to respond to all calls for help, with a thousand eyes and a thousand arms. It also explains why, in Taiwan's devastating earthquake in 1999 (called the 921 Earthquake for occurring on September 21), Tzu Chi volunteers were documented across Taiwan to arrive first at the site of each disaster scene in uniform, even before any government or military emergency officers arrived.

I've described briefly Tzu Chi's practical if not novel approach to helping -- but what I find somewhat funny is that today one of the most fashionable topic in development economics is "cash transfers", and whether it is "unconditional" or "conditional". But if only the development economists spoke to the social workers, then, it would not seem so "new" or "fashionable". At times, I feel the different disciplines don't talk to each other enough, in this case, social work and economics -- especially when talking about poverty, cash transfers, etc. Social workers have been at it way longer than economists, and doing a great job in our own country: Common Sense, 1. Research, 0. (It might also be that economists, particular conservative ones, being generally against forms of social welfare, probably don't like talking to social workers.)

Do social work and economics converge on the use of research and evidence?
Although social work and economics at times are fields that do not seem to be communicating with each other (as suggested by the fashionability of "cash transfers" within economics), there is one thing where social work and economics converge, and that is on the use of scientific evidence. Both social work and economics rely heavily on determining what kinds of interventions work at a population level. Rigorous evaluation studies, not unlike an experimental or quasi-experimental study at the community level, are designed, conducted, and published.

Here is where Tzu Chi, unfortunately, needs to get better. For all its "doing", it has much less "talking" outside of Tzu Chi. Granted, within Tzu Chi there is a lot of both doing and talking -- talking from an individual, colloquial perspective to share and learn from personal experiences, not unlike what I wrote a few days ago on my winter relief experiences. But there is much less talking from a rigorous or research perspective, talking that helps with communicating what they do and with public relations.

As a consequence, that lack of talking, especially in English, has become a missed opportunity for sharing its experiences to different policy audiences and institutions engaged in similar activities. An obvious example of a missed opportunity for Tzu Chi to embark on research: the lack of "rigorous" evidence of Tzu Chi's social work programs, for example. It turns out that Tzu Chi's work will, by onlooking Westerners, seem somewhat "not based on evidence", where "evidence" means "research". From a communications standpoint, it simply means talking in the same language as the audience. If the audience is policymakers, and if Tzu Chi wants to reach out to that audience, then it needs to use some of the language that the policymakers are used to.

And, in order for it to talk to these audiences, Tzu Chi first needs to be open to thinking and talking in similar languages as them. So, for starters, can we set out to evaluate the effectiveness of Tzu Chi's charity and social work programs on poverty in Taiwan, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, the US, China, or other countries where Tzu Chi has a large or growing presence?

Moreover, there are other forms of data and information on poverty and deprivation -- such as from the data collected through household surveys or censuses described above -- that any agency or organization can use, not necessarily to identify individual poor people per se, but to help them target their efforts and programs in specific regions or locales. How does Tzu Chi prioritize its efforts, and how does it use data in that endeavor of setting program priorities?

I hope more people interested in economics and social work will take interest in Tzu Chi and wish to evaluate its programs, and thereby learn from what Tzu Chi has to offer. And I hope Tzu Chi, as much as I love this organization, will be open to that critical inquiry. I also hope that Tzu Chi will learn from those scholars on how evidence and data can be used to make better decisions. After all, with mutual learning, everybody, regardless of whether they are Tzu Chi volunteers or donors, will benefit. 

The Accumulation Effect: The Love of Many Kind People Every Day to Help Others

In 1966 Master Cheng Yen was contemplating a move from Hualien, Taiwan's poor eastern coast, in order to obtain further studies with Venerable Master Yin Shun in the western coast. But by then she had developed a small following, mainly housewives and a few nuns, who with much devotion requested her to stay. After some consideration, Master Cheng Yen decided to stay -- under the condition that her students saved the equivalent of two US cents a day to help the poor.

Practically, pennies, saved over time, would then be pooled among her followers to buy supplies for the local poor. The winter could be especially rough for the poor: supplies like food, clothing, and bedding would be needed (perhaps not unlike the winter relief that we embarked on a few days ago).

That marked the beginning of Tzu Chi Foundation and the beginnings of the mission of charity. Here are what I see as remarkable features about these events.

Giving is a privilege of the sincere, not of the rich
First, in 1966 Master Cheng Yen's followers were not rich, and few in the sleepy town of Hualien were wealthy, certainly none wealthy by today's standards. As for Master Cheng Yen and her monastic disciples, she adhered to a strict philosophy of "a day without work is a day without food". She declined any donations for her daily living, and was not reliant on support from her lay followers. Instead, the nuns earned their livelihood by making handicrafts such as baby shoes and sweaters as well as keeping agriculture.

The livelihood was not one with large profit margins, financially. At that time she and her followers were living subsistence -- a bowl of rice a day. By some measures and by today's comparison, they would have probably been classified as 'poor'. Yet by earning their living, even the nuns were able to save, and they too were able to benefit and help others. They may have been 'poor' from a conventional perspective, but they were far from poor. In fact they were very rich -- rich in love. As Master Cheng Yen says, "giving is not only the privilege of the poor; it is the privilege of the sincere."

Many drops of water make a river; many grains of rice make a bushel. 
Second, saving money -- pennies really -- took a long time before there was enough for a relief distribution. It certainly was not overnight. Once sufficient funds were saved, they identified people in need, people who were poorer than them and some were disabled or elderly, and purchased the relief goods for distribution.

When a follower asked Master Cheng Yen whether she could save the equivalent of 14 cents once a week or 60 cents once a month, Master instructed her that she was instructing a daily practice of giving. Each day as we drop that coin into the piggy bank (or back then it was a bamboo bank) and as we hear that coin hit the bottom, we think, "Today, I wish to benefit others." With this daily practice and daily prayer, we remind ourselves without fail of our aspiration, our wish to help.

This daily giving, accumulating over time, with many people -- this is one of the most amazing aspects about Tzu Chi, I believe. I call it the "accumulation effect" because it is the accumulation of many individuals over time of small quantities, together forming an incredible whole. It is grounded in daily individual effort, no matter how small we may perceive it to be, that are especially powerful accumulating over time and in groups. They are psychology's "Baby Steps", Lao-Tzu's "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Or as Master Cheng Yen puts it, "Many drops of water make a river; many grains of rice make a bushel." In other words, those seemingly small, negligible actions matter. Or as the Sutra of Infinite Meaning indicates -- a sutra that Master Cheng Yen has quoted often -- "one gives rise to infinity" (一生無量).

Indeed, most of us cannot donate billions of dollars overnight like Bill Gates or Warren Buffett. But over time and saving each day, with the wish to help others, people of all walks of life can help. As her early followers said back in 1966, filled with joy, in spreading the word, "Even two cents a day can help others!" Thus, we should not underestimate ourselves or our abilities, even though they may seem to us incredibly meager.

Because of the way Tzu Chi collects its funds, recipients of Tzu Chi's 'charity' are also acutely aware that these funds are not negligible or marginal. The 'charity' is not to be taken for granted, and it is not a hand-out. They are saved, cent by cent, dollar by dollar, by people like them. Thus, charity recipients slowly stand up on their own, too. No matter how rich or poor a person may be, they can be rich in love. They can help others. Thus, this turns upside-down the notion that the "rich" must help the "poor". One need only be rich in love to help others less fortunate.

After the Gujarat Earthquake in 2001, Tzu Chi Malaysian volunteers gave their social work cases (what Tzu Chi calls "gratitude households" -- because of mutual gratitude) the opportunity to give something back, no matter how tiny. In Malaysia, with so many cases, small donations eventually accumulated to US$2 million, which was donated to our brothers and sisters in Gujarat, India. These charity cases were not forced to donate; they did so with the joy of giving and helping others.

This belief in equality of giving is also the core reason behind why the Buddha and his followers would beg for food from all walks of life. On one occasion, one of his followers decided to only ask for food of the rich. Gautama Buddha told him to not discriminate between rich or poor; that we should not withhold the opportunity from the poor or the rich to give; and that giving is in the sincerity of that gift, not in the size of that gift. Through giving, a connection to a previous stranger is developed, and if lucky, joy arises spontaneously.

Key takeaways:

• Giving and helping others is not the privilege of the rich; it is the privilege of the sincere. Thus, even those are poor can sincerely wish to benefit and help others. Poverty mentality is worse than economically poor. Master Cheng Yen learned and realized this firsthand in the early days of Tzu Chi. 
• Giving and helping others takes time, accumulating gradually each day, and when combined with the efforts of many, this force is large. Hence individual small, daily efforts are never to be underestimated or undervalued. 

When Reason Met Sentiment: Left- and Right-Brain Activity in Tzu Chi Volunteer Work

In my last post I described my observations and experiences from a simple vantage point, without too many thoughts or concepts or analysis. You could call it my "sentimental mind" or alternatively my right-brain thinking.

But sometimes, when I think about Tzu Chi, another part of my brain turns on. I call it my rational, conceptual mind. Conceptual mind means I am critical not only of myself but of the way we do things. It's the left-brain thinking. This mind promises to give suggestions and recommendations for improvement. But it also opens one up to criticism.

For future blog posts, I will link as a label whether I think the post has elements of "right brain" and "left brain" thinking.

Returning to the simple premise of yesterday's charitable activity: Find poor people and help them. This simple basis, however, can be translated to many different activities and channels, not only the one I described yesterday. On the basis of this, two questions naturally follow:

• What does it mean to be poor?
• What does true "help" mean? 

I will be analyzing these two questions further in the coming days... Stay tuned! 

Listening with Your Eyes, Watching with Your Ears

Welcome to the reopening of my blog on Tzu Chi, a blog which I had opened in 2009 and closed shortly thereafter. This time, I've entitled the blog Listening with My Eyes. The blog will feature a few of my observations, experiences, and reflections as a Tzu Chi volunteer. I started volunteering with Tzu Chi in 1996 when I was 13 years old. This year as I turn 30, I hope this blog will reflect some of my learning through Tzu Chi and a variety of experiences, all of which I am deeply grateful for.

For starters, one may wonder where the title of this new blog comes from. In fact it is a saying by Master Cheng Yen. For many years I had a vague sense that this saying was intended to instruct one to pay better attention.

But I came to a new understanding of this saying upon reading this article on synethesia in the New York Times in 2007. Medical science has shown that there is a condition -- and not an illness -- in which one's sensory perceptions are "crossmodal." This is a fancy term meaning that extra or other sensory capacities become available to one's normal sensory capacities, such as the ability to observe color linked with numbers, or the ability to perceive spatial distance with certain concepts, or the ability to 'listen' or 'see' in one's skin. Or, as Master Cheng Yen instructs us, to see with one's ears and hear with one's eyes.

In light of medical science's discovery of synethesia, I take this particular saying by Master Cheng Yen to mean that we ought to try to see things in a totally new way, a very fresh and refreshing way, to let our powers of attention expand and grow in yet unimagined dimensions. She is encouraging her supporters and students to use one's entire being and all powers of concentration, those known and still unknown.

By bestowing this title to this re-opened old but new blog, I hope that I am able to constantly be mindful -- and ever-more mindful -- in observing the world around me as I share some of my thoughts as a Tzu Chi volunteer.

I welcome your thoughts and look forward to a fruitful exchange. Thank you for your interest!