Tom McEnaney considers why we give at Christmas
Two years ago, in the run-up to Christmas, the inmates at Krivichi Child Prison in Northern Belarus had an unusual visitor. Through an accompanying interpreter, this Westerner who, it later emerged, was from a country called Ireland, told them that Santa was about to pay his inaugural visit.
Yes, I was that Westerner, and I remember the look of disbelief in the faces of the 30 children, aged between 12 and 18, each dressed in army fatigues, fingers embellished with roughly-drawn tattoos, as I explained that any child who still believed in Santa could write a letter asking for whatever he wanted - and Santa would bring it in a few days’ time. Children who no longer believed in Santa were asked to remove themselves from the room. Nobody moved, except to seek out paper and pen.
A few days later Santa made good on his promise, arriving with a sack that was dominated by requested MP3 players. But he had a few surprises too: pets, because when an institutionalised child learns to love a pet that child learns to love, a library of books, a TV and DVD player, a PlayStation and, most importantly for children who are cooped up inside for the severe winter, an ice-hockey rink with enough gear to fit out two teams.
When I say I believe in Santa, what I really mean is that I passionately believe in Santa. I believe in what he stands for - that spirit of unrequited kindness which empowers children to request whatever they want in the certainty that, with only minor limitations, it will be there under the tree on Christmas morning. A Santa who, irrespective of what the song says, comes to all children, bad or good.
I may not lie awake anymore waiting to hear the sleigh landing on our roof, and I certainly had no compunctions about blocking up the chimney for the new gas fire, but I believe in the joyful indulgence of children. Most importantly, I believe in teaching children that they live in a world instilled with generosity, even if that generosity occasionally comes wrapped up in make-believe.
You see, I think we all believe in Santa Claus long after we claim not to. That’s why we go to such lengths to buy each other presents, to remember our loved ones, to spread joy and to indulge ourselves without guilt at this time of year. We may have grown up, but what Santa taught us still endures.
Which is why, only a few weeks ago, while trying to organise Cris Kindle with my youngest sister, the argument became very heated. Why? Because modern practices, like Cris Kindle, have the potential to greatly diminish the magic of Santa Claus - and somebody must shout stop. At Christmas time we have a responsibility to rally to the protection of the man in the red suit. If we don’t, if we sit by as the need for convenience and thrift diminishes his role, then we only have ourselves to blame when the magic disappears.
Don’t get me wrong. Although I may not be its greatest fan, I’m not against Cris Kindle per se. Coming from a very close family of eight children I understand the attractions of not having to think of the individual needs of each of my siblings but rather having one sibling buy only for one other. Leaving aside the financial considerations, which are not immaterial, this Cris Kindle approach relieves the pressure to think of a dozen different presents for family members and their partners.
What I am against, however, is regimenting the Cris Krindle process so that any residual opportunity for generosity or thoughtfulness is comprehensively squeezed out. In our house, like so many other Irish homes, the modest limit on what you can spend under Cris Kindle ‘rules’ becomes exactly what you will spend. Always.
This year my baby sister suggested that we each let it be known what we want so that nobody is disappointed. It seems like a perfectly reasonable argument in a house where some gift givers have a somewhat patchy record. Not only can the recipient take comfort from knowing they will get exactly what the want, but the giver is relieved of the hassle of having to think about the process at all.
Except that somehow, it’s not right. It’s not Christmas. It’s not the Santa approach. My sister however, herself one of the most kindly and gentle souls you will ever have the privilege of meeting, could not understand my vehement objections. Try as I might to explain that her quest to avoid disappointment was killing off Santa and the whole spirit of kindness that he represents, I only succeeded in coming across as being argumentative.
I may not have to stop and think what each of my family would like for Christmas this year, but won’t I suffer as a result of that? Won’t they suffer too? After all, how many other times in the year do we ceremoniously pause to consider the needs and desires of our loved ones? And that’s what the spirit of Santa Claus is all about.
Many people believe that materialism is the greatest threat to Christmas but I think that it is a minor menace compared to the danger of our quest for convenience.
Cris Kindle, our Irish equivalent, derives from Christkind, the German version of Santa. This was introduced by Lutherans in the early 17th century, by those who wanted to replace Santa-as-Saint-Nicholas with Santa-as-Christ. But the Chris Kindle we practice here, which is the vanguard of the attack on Santa, has more to do with the American invention of Secret Santa than with the fairy-like being of German myth.
This particular imposter may well be leading the attack on Santa as the giver of all things possible, but is far from being the only protagonist in this new battle. Modern parents also have a lot to answer for.
I am not sure how widespread the practice has become, but I know of a number of parents who now have replaced Santa for their children with a hybrid Santa/parent combination. It seems they want the credit for their role in assisting Santa. Often in these houses the Santa gift will be extremely modest and it will be the parents who receive the kudos and gratitude for delivering the new console or the shiny bike. Yet in doing this, Santa is being usurped from his rightful place in the Christmas pecking order and these parents are diluting his real meaning. They are also watering down the lesson that Mr Claus delivers, and has delivered for as long as he has existed in the minds of children everywhere - that kindness exists for kindness’s sake and requires no gratitude.
Santa also plays an important psychological role in the lives of children. In poorer countries, as in latter-day Ireland, indeed, the toys he brings might well be the only toys a child will receive, and the importance of play in the development of children cannot be underestimated. Aside from the physical toys, Santa brings a message that says, look, it’s okay to play. It is a sad fact that some children need to be reminded that it is okay to be children.
Psychologists differ on the subject, but I have had years of experience of working with disadvantaged children and I believe that the natural resilience of such children helps them to forget the bad episodes in life and cherish the good ones – but they still need those good memories to cherish. If you think back to your own childhood you’ll see that the memories we keep are often the out-of-the-ordinary experiences and the world’s most famous sleigh-rider certainly falls into that category. So you see, even grown-ups who attest not to believe in Santa are still benefiting from his existence.
This past week I have been checking through my Christmas list. There are 35 children in Krivichi prison this year and they are all on the list, as well as about 700 other institutionalised orphans and children with disabilities. My ‘Santa’ list is an Excel spreadsheet and quite frankly, I don’t know how the real Santa can manage without one. I notice, though, that there is a marked move to practicality this year with fewer requests for soft toys and more for clothing, footwear and toiletries.
Normally a preponderance of practical items suggests the involvement of teachers in the compilation of letters, and this is something that elicits a robust reminder from me on the true nature of Santa.
It’s not that my Santa has a problem with practical items. Over the last 13 years that I have been involved in trying to help overseas orphanages, as well as putting in 60 playgrounds and 60 libraries full of child fiction, Santa has also invested about €3m in refurbishments, beds, windows, lights, tools and, in the case of six institutions, 100-acre tillage farms. It’s just that the Santa I know also believes in empowering disadvantaged children to make their own requests. To look for fun - and joy.
This year however, as Belarus struggles through its own more-severe version of our financial crisis, it is understandable that children there will be moved to request more practical items. And Santa will have little option but to acquiesce up to a point.
Indeed, the current financial crisis has also prompted my friends and I to extend our Santa-assist plan to children a little closer to home. So last year, with a lot of support from a multitude of people and organisations, we helped Santa to visit homeless children in Ireland, children of homeless parents, and others who he might otherwise find it difficult to reach.
In Belarus, meanwhile, when a group of Irish volunteers turned up at a child prison to assist Santa two years ago, they were welcomed with open arms by officials who could never consider turning away the man they know as Ded Moroz, or Grandfather Frost.
This year’s trip to Belarus will be a slimmed-down affair. And this year my wife and I will be joined by our three-year-old son who will learn first hand what it means to truly believe in the power - and the never-ending kindness - of Santa Claus. Just as his father still believes that Santa – that potent and enduring symbol of Christmas - is someone that we should cherish, and learn from, not just on December 25, but on every day of the year.
Tom McEnaney is corporate PR consultant with McEnaney Media and a columnist with the Irish Daily Mail and the Mail on Sunday.
His charity is called IODP (International Orphanage Development Programme)
On this week's Talking Point, Tom joined Hazel Larkin - freelance parenting writer, Coleman Noctor - Child and Adolescent Psychotherapist with St. Patrick's Mental Health Services and of course Sarah for a discussion about the psychology, expectations and identity behind Christmas presents.
You can listen to the discussion here.
http://www.newstalk.ie/The-Psychology-of-Christmas-givingResearcher
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