The US Navy, with four ships steaming towards the Myanmar coast, insisted its intentions were 'totally non-political' - meaning strictly humanitarian.

Beginning with French Foreign Minister Bernard Kouchner, there's been talk of governments delivering aid by force but keeping the intervention small, non-violent and 'non-political' - meaning free of self-interest.

On May 19, at an Asean meeting, Singapore's Foreign Minister George Yeo called for 'non-politicised' - meaning untied - aid. In return on May 23, Myanmar agreed that 'non-political' - meaning civilian - foreign aid workers could proceed freely to the ravaged Irrawaddy delta.

Then United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki Moon maintained his visit to Yangon was 'non-political' - that is, not meant to legitimise the ruling junta. His itinerary conspicuously excluded a meeting with opposition leader under house arrest, Ms Aung San Suu Kyi, making him the first UN official in years not to request a meeting with her.

Myanmar Prime Minister Thein Sein made it clear more international help was welcome, 'provided that there are no strings attached' and there is no 'politicisation involved'.

But is it ever possible for aid - whether doled out by states, foundations or individuals - to be non-political?

The experience of the past 60 years suggests it is not. Since World War II, foreign aid has served the strategic and economic interests of rich donor countries, rather than the needs of poor recipient ones.

Official Development Assistance (ODA) comes with so many strings attached - including preferential tendering on contracts, overpriced equipment and the hiring of expensive consultants from donor countries. Such tied aid cuts the value of aid to recipient countries by some 25 to 40 per cent, according to a UN study of African economies.

The African state of Eritrea, for example, found it much cheaper to build its railway using local expertise and resources, than be stuck repaying foreign loans with interest for years.

Today, most big ODA donors openly peddle political influence in the name of aid. During the Cold War, the United States bestowed most of its charity on central American and Caribbean countries. Its new beneficiary today, since the 'war on terror' was launched, is the Middle East.

France lavishes aid on the preservation and promotion of French culture, language and influence, especially in West Africa. Japan favours East Asian nations with which it shares extensive commercial ties.

Meanwhile, China is pitching itself as an alternative, non-interfering aid source. It is pouring money into Africa, writing off millions of dollars of debt and bailing out 'rogue regimes' such as Zimbabwe and Sudan with investments.

But it, too, has come under fire for the poor labour practices of Chinese companies in Africa and for allegedly pillaging the continent's natural resources to sustain its own development.

Charitable foundations are no more innocent. In 2002, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation made an impressive donation of US$100 million (S$136 million) to fight HIV/Aids in India. At the same time, Mr Gates spent US$421 million to fight free software Linux and to shore up Microsoft's software development in India.

Many sneered, saying the former was just a 'big bribe' to the Indian government to drop Linux. Winning over India would enrich Microsoft's founder and major shareholder by more than his US$100 million 'gift' to the country. So who was the real beneficiary of the charity here?

In other cases, foundations have used aid as a soft lever to make policy changes, dictate what good governance means and prise open markets.

Individual giving, too, can't seem to help but be self- serving. Even though untainted by national interest, private philanthropy is invariably motivated.

Why do people give? Out of a hotchpotch of motives: personal values, humanitarian concerns, religious beliefs or to feel better about themselves. Altruism is no accident of nature. It usually has some agenda.

When people open the chequebook, it's mostly for causes close to home. A personal connection - either because they know someone or are moved by, say, the story of a tsunami orphan - would generally be required to make them donate to a foreign cause. That's something that's difficult when unpopular governments are involved or media access is limited.

As with nations and foundations, personal giving is highly prioritised, strategic and ideological. Most people tend to automatically transpose their own interests or national imperatives - for example, health and education - to the international policy arena.

This is despite the world's poorest saying they would really just prefer clean water, thank you very much.

Aid, official and private, serves many agendas - from salving the conscience to buying military bases and lubricating diplomatic ties. It is not always given with the intention of uplifting the poor.

Cyclone Nargis is a useful study in the motivations and limitations of aid. The saga is a case where early but quiet acknowledgement of the dynamics on the ground might have succeeded in bringing relief to the suffering. Posturing over political principles certainly hasn't.

After all, the ruling junta has shown little inclination in its grisly history to bow before great powers banging on the door or French-style gunboat diplomacy. It has been, however, agreeable to distributing food, tents and medicine, if coaxed and credited. As the saying goes: 'There's no limit to what can be achieved if you don't worry who gets the credit.'

But unfortunately, giving and receiving are proving to be nothing if not political. Aid needs a sender's address, even if it comes packed in anonymous brown boxes freight-forwarded by Asean. Myanmar's generals know this. That's why they scrambled to put their names on the first aid packages that flew in, before handing them out in elaborate ceremonies.

But as Asean beckons the rest of the world to donate apolitically to Myanmar, the invitation is weighed down by a 1,000-pound gorilla. Would the aid help in reforming or replacing the regime, or would it serve to legitimise the junta and help it stay in power?

When aid is unpoliticised, there is usually none or very little proffered. That's the reason why the UN's 'flash appeal' for Myanmar is still a long way short of its US$201 million target - nearly a month after the disaster.

Compare that to the US$2 billion raised for the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami victims within the first week.

There is no unconditional gifting, at least not on earth.

suelong@sph.com.sg

GOING A-BEGGING

When aid is unpoliticised, there is usually none or very little proffered. That's why the UN's 'flash appeal' for Myanmar is a long way short of its US$201m target - nearly a month after the disaster.