Outline what the reader learns about Janice and her project in Cambodia.

Analyze how Tomʼs attitude towards the people around him is conveyed. Focus on narrative techniques and use of language.

Choose one of the following tasks:

Janice Steiner is an American who has been living and working in Cambodia for many years. Originally a dentist, she first came to the country as a volunteer in the 1990s but eventually decided to stay. She founded the NGO Cambodian Hands and has dedicated much of her life to supporting Cambodian women.

Her organisation aims to provide women with skills and employment opportunities beyond prostitution and unpaid agricultural work. One of its initiatives is a basket-weaving project in the province of Kampong Cham, which is run for the UN. The project has a good reputation among international organisations and donors, making Janice an influential figure in Cambodia's development sector.

Janice herself has received considerable international media attention. Television programmes and newspapers have presented her as a particularly admirable aid worker, and one magazine even compared her to Princess Diana. However, the media coverage seems to focus primarily on Janice rather than on the Cambodian women she supposedly supports. In one magazine feature, for example, the women are presented as her “daughters” without their names or personal stories being included.

At the project site, Janice appears demanding and controlling. She expects a large group of women to be available for photographs intended for the UN and becomes angry when only seven can attend because of a Buddhist holiday. She criticizes the local manager Sophorn despite his attempts to explain the situation.

Thus, Janice's project is officially intended to empower Cambodian women economically, but the extract also raises questions about the power relations between Western aid workers and the local people they claim to support.

In the extract from Maeve Galvin’s The Saviours, Tom’s attitude towards the people around him is mainly conveyed through a third-person limited narrative perspective that closely follows his thoughts and perceptions. His attitude differs considerably depending on whom he interacts with: he is strongly critical and even contemptuous of Janice, while showing respect and sympathy towards the Cambodian people. At the same time, his cynical thoughts about his own work suggest that he is also critical of the international aid system of which he himself is a part.

From the beginning, Tom’s negative attitude towards Janice is made explicit through the narrator’s close access to his thoughts. She is introduced as his “unwanted companion” (l. 4), and Tom remembers finding her “intense and self-aggrandising” when they first met (ll. 5–7). The adjective “self-aggrandising” suggests that he sees her as self-important and primarily interested in promoting herself. He therefore usually ensures that their encounters are “as brief as possible” (l. 7). The limited perspective means that Janice is largely presented through Tom’s critical eyes, encouraging the reader to share his irritation with her.

Tom’s attitude is also expressed through sarcasm and humorous exaggeration. He has no desire to stand in a rice field and make the project look “as heart-warming as if Walt Disney had personally curated it” (ll. 11–12). The reference to Disney suggests an artificially positive and sentimental representation of development work. It shows that Tom is cynical about the way aid projects are presented to outsiders. His description of Janice’s old magazine profile is similarly mocking. He compares her photograph to “a 1990s ad for Colgate” (ll. 28–31), reducing the supposedly inspirational image to something superficial and commercial. Through these humorous comparisons, Tom distances himself from Janice’s heroic public image.

However, his criticism goes beyond personal dislike. Tom is particularly disturbed by the unequal relationship between Janice and the Cambodian people. Looking at an old magazine feature, he notices that Janice’s Cambodian “daughters” are positioned beside her “like decorative accessories” and are not even identified by name (ll. 31–33). The simile presents the women as objects used to enhance Janice’s image rather than as independent individuals. The quotation marks around “daughters” further create distance from Janice’s paternalistic terminology. Tom thus appears sensitive to the way Western aid workers can dominate the stories of the people they claim to empower.

His attitude towards Sophorn provides a clear contrast. When they arrive, Tom greets him “warmly” and immediately asks about his new baby (ll. 34–36), indicating genuine personal interest and respect. Janice, by contrast, interrupts them “without greeting Sophorn” (l. 38). When she speaks to him slowly and uses gestures, Tom “inwardly cringed at her behaviour” (ll. 39–41). The verb “cringed” expresses embarrassment and disapproval. The narrator then reflects Tom’s perspective by emphasizing that Sophorn “had great English” and was “fully capable of understanding them” (ll. 41–42). Tom therefore recognizes Janice’s behaviour as patronizing and unnecessary.

This contrast becomes even stronger when Janice criticizes Sophorn for having arranged only seven women for the photographs. Tom notices “the anxiety in his voice” (l. 46) and later sees him “lowering his head like a scolded child” (ll. 53–54). The simile highlights the unequal power relationship Janice creates between herself and an adult Cambodian colleague. Tom actively attempts to protect Sophorn by intervening: “Janice, it’s fine” (l. 51), before suggesting that seven women are sufficient. This demonstrates his sympathy for Sophorn and his discomfort with Janice’s treatment of him. Nevertheless, Tom does not confront her directly. Instead, he uses a “chirpy voice” to reduce the tension (ll. 55–56), suggesting that his resistance remains cautious.

At the same time, Galvin does not portray Tom as a completely idealistic alternative to Janice. His self-ironic attitude towards his own role reveals that he understands the contradictions of international aid work. Headquarters expects photographs that present the project positively, and Tom cynically describes his task as using his “ageing Nikon to capture the empowerment of the basket-weaving programme” (ll. 57–58). The formulation “capture the empowerment” sounds deliberately artificial, suggesting that empowerment is being turned into an attractive image for the UN rather than simply experienced by the women themselves. Tom recognizes this problem, yet he still participates in producing these photographs. This makes his attitude more complex: he is critical of the system but remains part of it.

Overall, Tom is portrayed as cynical towards Janice and the self-promotional side of international aid, but respectful and sympathetic towards the Cambodian people around him. The third-person limited perspective gives the reader close access to his sarcastic thoughts, while contrasts between his and Janice’s behaviour highlight his greater sensitivity towards Sophorn and the Cambodian women. However, his participation in creating carefully staged images for the UN also prevents him from appearing morally superior. Galvin thus presents Tom as a perceptive but somewhat conflicted observer who recognizes the problematic power structures surrounding him without fully escaping them himself.

International aid organisations depend on public attention and financial support. It is therefore understandable that they want to present their projects in an appealing and emotional way. As Tom sarcastically puts it, the photo shoot in The Saviours is supposed to make the project look “as heart-warming as if Walt Disney had personally curated it”. Such positive storytelling can be effective, but it becomes problematic when creating the perfect story becomes more important than representing the people involved honestly.

There are good reasons for aid organisations to use emotional stories and images. Global poverty and inequality are complex issues that may seem distant to people in Western countries. Statistics alone rarely create a personal connection. A photograph of an individual whose life has improved through education or employment can make an abstract problem easier to understand. If people feel emotionally connected to a project, they may be more willing to donate money, volunteer or support political action.

Positive stories can also be preferable to images that portray people only as helpless victims. Development organisations have often been criticized for using shocking images of poverty to generate donations. Showing successful projects and people improving their own lives can instead communicate hope and demonstrate that support can make a difference. Donors understandably want to know that their contributions achieve something.

However, the approach becomes questionable when reality is staged or oversimplified. Development projects rarely produce perfect success stories. If organisations show only smiling participants and beautiful surroundings, they may hide continuing difficulties and create unrealistic expectations. Supporters should be informed honestly about both achievements and problems rather than being presented with an advertisement.

The extract from The Saviours demonstrates an even more serious danger: the people supposedly being helped may lose control over their own representation. In the old magazine article about Janice, the Cambodian women appear mainly as background figures in her success story. Even their names and individual experiences are ignored. Such representations can reinforce the idea of a heroic Western “saviour” rescuing passive people in poorer countries. This may attract attention, but it reproduces unequal power relations instead of challenging them.

There is also an ethical question concerning dignity and consent. People should not become marketing material simply because they participate in an aid project. Organisations should ask whose story is being told, who gets to tell it and who benefits from the resulting publicity. Ideally, local participants should have an active role in deciding how their experiences are presented.

Ultimately, aid organisations do need effective storytelling, and emotional communication is not automatically manipulative. A powerful photograph or personal success story can inspire people to care about issues they might otherwise ignore. However, the aim should be to create emotional engagement without sacrificing honesty and dignity. Instead of producing a Disney-like version of development work, organisations should allow local people to speak for themselves and present them as individuals with agency rather than as supporting characters in a Western success story. The most convincing form of communication is not necessarily the most heart-warming one, but the one that combines hope with authenticity.

Educating Girls: Charity or Investment in Our Future?

What happens when millions of girls are given the opportunity to develop their talents – and what do we all lose when they are not?

Former business leader Indra Nooyi argues that expanding educational opportunities for girls is not simply charity but an investment in a stronger economy and our shared future. I largely agree. Education can empower girls and women while benefiting entire societies. However, there is an important point we should add: girls deserve education not only because their talents can benefit the economy, but because education is a fundamental right.

Education creates opportunities

Education can dramatically increase a girl's opportunities in life. Going to school gives young women knowledge and qualifications, but it can also increase their independence and confidence. Better educational opportunities can make it easier for women to enter professions that have traditionally been dominated by men and to participate more fully in political, economic and social life.

This is particularly important because talent is not determined by gender. If girls are prevented from receiving a good education, societies potentially lose scientists, entrepreneurs, doctors, engineers, teachers and political leaders. From this perspective, Nooyi is right: excluding girls from education is not only unjust but also economically wasteful.

Stronger women, stronger economies

There is also a convincing economic case for investing in girls' education. A country cannot make full use of its human potential if a large part of its population faces barriers to education and employment. More highly educated women can contribute their skills to the workforce, start businesses, create jobs and bring different perspectives into decision-making.

The benefits can extend beyond individual careers. Education can give women greater financial independence and more control over important decisions in their lives. This can strengthen families and communities as well as national economies. Gender equality is therefore not a niche issue affecting only women – society as a whole can benefit.

But girls are more than an “investment”

Still, we should be careful about viewing girls' education only through an economic lens.

Imagine saying that a girl deserves to attend school because she might one day increase her country's GDP. What about a girl who does not become a successful business leader? Is her education somehow less valuable?

Of course not.

Education is a human right. Girls should have the opportunity to learn, develop their personalities and make their own choices regardless of whether their education eventually produces measurable economic benefits. Nooyi's argument is powerful because it demonstrates that equality benefits everyone, but the moral case for equality should remain equally important.

Education alone is not enough

We should also remember that access to school does not automatically create gender equality. A girl may receive an excellent education and still encounter discrimination when applying for a job. A woman may enter the workforce but face unequal opportunities for promotion, harassment or expectations that she alone should take responsibility for childcare.

Achieving genuine equality therefore requires more than putting girls into classrooms. Societies must also remove the barriers they encounter afterwards – in universities, workplaces, politics and their private lives.

Turning potential into progress

Nooyi's central claim is therefore highly convincing: educating girls is one of the smartest investments societies can make. It expands individual opportunities, strengthens economies and allows talent that might otherwise be lost to contribute to our shared future.

But we should go one step further. Girls should not have to prove their economic value in order to deserve equal opportunities. Empowerment is both a smart investment and a matter of justice.

And that means this issue concerns all of us. Speak up when girls are denied opportunities, support organisations that expand access to education, challenge gender stereotypes in your own community and make sure women's voices are heard. Gender equality will not happen simply because we agree that it is important – it happens when we act.

So, what can you do today to help turn equal opportunity from a promise into reality?