The Spirit of Giving

It would be interesting to ask people, as they pass, why they're making a donation. Would they even know why, exactly? Maybe it’s such a split-second decision, it’s not possible to analyze it. On the other hand, it seems to me, from my own experience of giving on the street, that I am motivated in a variety of distinct ways.

As a busker myself, I’m curious about what those motivations are, not because I want to exploit them, but because I want to better understand the communication I’m having with these hundreds of strangers.

So, why do you give money to a busker?

The first, and probably most desirable reason for both parties, is that you like the music and you’re paying the musician as a form of saying “thank you”. The scenario might go something like this. You’re tired and grumpy and weighed down by packages during the Christmas season, and as you enter the subway station, a pretty melody lifts your spirits for a few moments. In return, you donate a dollar.

You might view the subway station as an alternate form of performance venue and contribute something in lieu of buying a concert ticket. At a busker's festival last summer, we heard professional street performers say things like “You’d pay $20 to see this flaming hoop juggling act on a flying trapeze in the Air Canada Centre” to elicit higher donations.

You might make a donation because you admire the musician’s skill and want to reward it, whether or not it’s really “your kind of music” or not.

I’ve also heard of people donating more money to particular buskers (not on the TTC) so that they’d quit and go home earlier.

On the other hand, I know that people also give to subway musicians for reasons that have nothing to do with music.

When I’m feeling sorry for myself, for any number of reasons, and I see someone in a physically challenging situation asking for money, I find myself reaching into my pocket as a way of putting my own problems in perspective. The act of giving, itself, is a leveller and a humbling gesture. It’s a way of acknowledging that my own problems are not quite so serious after all and that my own good fortune is as much about luck and timing as it is about being particularly deserving. Knowing that “there but for the grace of God go I,” making a cash donation to a person less fortunate is a way of expressing compassion and a willingness to try and balance the scales.

In the case of subway musicians, many of whom, like me, are middle-class professionals with roofs over their heads, an onlooker’s perception of us may be very different than the reality. A subway musician is very likely not worse off than you at all. In fact, he or she might actually be better off, considering that he’s playing the accordion most of the day instead of, say, fixing a roof.

Knowing that at times people mistake me for someone less fortunate, I feel a responsibility to keep passing contributions along. The easiest way to do that, over Christmas, was to simply drop a portion of my proceeds into the Salvation Army bowl as I left the subway station.

Of course, many people, especially in the culturally-savvy environment of downtown Toronto, do understand street performance as an important part of many artistic careers. For these folks, donating to a busker is perhaps a gesture of support for the arts community in general (whom I heard today described as “striving artists” instead of “starving artists”) as much as a thumbs-up to the specific musician.

Although some artists are better off than others, it’s widely understood that the majority of musicians (actors, painters, poets...) have to stretch their dollars to make ends meet. So when you give to a street musician, you do so with the confidence that the loonie will indeed make a difference and be appreciated. You also give with the expectation that the money won’t be spent on alcohol or drugs; you’re spared the internal debate of trying to figure out, in those few moments when you’re considering an outstretched hand, whether or not your money will be part of the solution or the problem.

Also, you’re spared the sense of futility that so often accompanies giving to any cause, whether spontaneously or with great care and deliberation.