Gift-Wrapped Guilt?

My Adventure With Ethical Shopping

By Frances Stead Sellers

Sunday, December 18, 2005; Page B01

Earlier this month, there was a three-day sale of imported Oriental rugs at the Mennonite church near my house in Baltimore. "They are a little pricey," one of my neighbors warned me wryly, "because the workers are paid a living wage." What a concept! The last time I bought an Oriental rug -- years ago in Kashmir -- I haggled over the price with little thought for the well-being of the rugmakers. I was pretty sure most of the profit would go to the store owner, anyway. But now my already stressful shopping season -- garlanded with aspirations to find creative presents -- had been complicated by the intrusion of altruism: I was meant to worry about the workers.

So it was that I found myself watching another neighbor sort through piles of richly patterned, hand-knotted rugs, looking for just the right ruby tone to replace the threadbare floor covering in her dining room. She knew she probably wouldn't get a bargain that day, but she had been persuaded by the saleswoman's spiel that there was added ethical value to her purchase: Her investment would support Pakistani craftsmen and women (but no children, of course) who use looms donated by a charity, Jakciss, that is committed to building schools and promoting harmony between the country's Christian and Muslim populations.