AS IT stands, coordination of relief efforts seems nonexistent. No government agency keeps tabs on the dollars. No central body monitors who gets help from whom. No one organization manages the onerous application process for victims. Alan Abramson, who studies philanthropy at the Aspen Institute, a Washington, DC–based public-policy group, notes that the patchwork nature of the nonprofit sector has long made coordinating such efforts difficult. "It’s not like someone with authority sits over nonprofits to make sure they don’t bump heads," he says. "No one says, ‘Red Cross, you take care of these folks, and Salvation Army, go here.’"

This time, however, the problem has been made worse by the magnitude of the September 11 effort, with its many charities, funds, and communities. The situation opens the door for what the NCRP’s Cohen refers to as "double dipping" — i.e., some families may get paid twice while others languish. It increases the potential for gaps in services, or for people to be forgotten — especially since there’s no simple, comprehensive way for families to seek support. Instead, they must learn to navigate the application processes, to fill out forms for each charity, to figure out which charity will address their needs. Those who don’t speak English or who lack formal documentation — marriage licenses, pay stubs, birth certificates — might find it impossible to get help. And so, as Cohen points out, "This disaster cannot be viewed through a lens of traditional charitable behavior. It cannot be business as usual." Or, as Abramson puts it, "Charities could and should do more."

Yet the sheer scale of this disaster has left charitable groups grappling with even basic questions about how to simply distribute the money. Take, for example, the American Red Cross. The country’s largest humanitarian organization has raised the largest pot of money — $547 million as of last week — for its special Liberty Disaster Fund set up to benefit families of those killed or injured in the attacks. It has committed $320 million to what Red Cross spokesperson Darren Irby calls "immediate disaster relief." That includes $100 million for a "family gift program" to help families that lost a breadwinner meet imminent financial needs, such as food, utilities, housing, tuition, and funeral costs. So far, the Red Cross has issued 2267 checks totaling $34.1 million. Another $60 million has gone to aid rescue workers at ground zero in New York City: at two respite centers, the charity has served up hot meals and set up a "relaxation room" filled with TVs and La-Z-Boy chairs.

But from the moment the Red Cross launched its relief effort, the charity faced problems. First came a flare-up over blood donations. Within days of September 11, the Red Cross outraged other groups by continuing to urge the public to give blood. It wasn’t clear, however, that more blood was needed. Even though thousands suffered injuries during the attacks, most of their injuries — broken bones, abrasions, and burn wounds — did not require blood transfusion. In fact, so few survivors needed blood that the federal Department of Health and Human Services advised blood banks to cut off all donations.

The Red Cross later came under fire for its aggressive fundraising. One of the first agencies on the scene of any disaster, the organization provides such assistance as temporary housing, clothing, and medical care. But critics worry that agencies better suited to provide people with long-term relief — such as employment and mental-health services — won’t have enough money to do so, since the Red Cross attracted so many of the post–September 11 charitable contributions. Explains Cohen, "The Red Cross is good at helping folks in distress. But needs will change. The Red Cross should say, ‘We’ve done the bulk of our part; the money would be better spent by other agencies.’ "

Others have blasted the charity for failing to make clear that some portion of Liberty Fund contributions will not go directly to victims and their families. Donors like Maureen DeCoste, who had believed that her donation would help victims, have expressed outrage after discovering that the Liberty Fund would also be used for other purposes. "I was duped," DeCoste wrote in a November 2 letter in the Boston Herald. "I wish I could take back my donation and send it where I wanted it to go." Huge sums of money — about $80 million — are slated to help the charity "expand into new programs of aid never before required," according to the Red Cross Web site. That means the money will go to buy freezers to preserve the blood supply longer. It means the money will go to train volunteers on how to respond to terrorist acts. It means the money will go to operate a national hotline for people with anxiety about the attacks. Irby defends such allocations as "emerging needs." He adds, "On September 11, the Red Cross didn’t think we’d be helping victims of anthrax. Every day a need emerges. We should use some of the money to be prepared."

Still, the controversy has continued. It erupted publicly on October 26, when Red Cross president Bernadine Healy quit, in part because of internal tension over the fund. Board members and chapter presidents disagreed with Healy’s decision to use contributions to advance the agency’s long-term goals. Board chairman Daniel McLaughlin has since tried to appease critics; on October 31, he announced that the Red Cross would stop seeking donations for the Liberty Fund.

The other major charitable group — the United Way — hasn’t fared much better. Hours after the Towers collapsed, the United Way of New York partnered with another local nonprofit, the New York Community Trust, to set up the high-profile September 11th Fund. Yet critics have lashed out at the national charity, complaining the United Way has failed to get donations to needy people fast enough. It’s a fair rebuke. Of the $320 million collected by the fund, only $30 million has been allocated so far. That’s largely because the fund makes grants to smaller agencies that, in turn, offer services on the front lines. September 11th Fund spokesperson Jeanine Moss estimates that 30 agencies, including United Way chapters, have received 60 grants. The largest, an award of $7.5 million, has gone toward cash assistance for victims. Other grants have aided rescue workers, provided grief counseling for victims’ families and workers, and supplied food. Moss recognizes that the application process — standard procedure at the United Way — slows down the flow of money. But, she notes, "People are working around the clock to get the grants processed and out the door."

Maybe so. But all the chaos lays bare the need for coordination. Whenever disaster strikes, the top charitable organizations typically come together to figure out how to serve affected communities, according to Irby. "We explain what we’re doing to each other so we don’t duplicate efforts," he says. Ever since September 11, that tradition has continued; representatives of the Red Cross, the United Way, and the Salvation Army meet daily with federal, state, and local officials at Guiliani’s office to share information.

And just recently, a special coordination effort was launched. On October 25, New York attorney general Eliot Spitzer, whose office oversees charitable groups, announced plans to create two central databases for relief organizations aiding victims in Washington and Pennsylvania, as well as in New York. The first database will track how charities spend contributions; the second will list recipients and how they get help. Spitzer’s spokesperson, Christine Prichard, says the attorney general hopes the databases will ensure that "this money is used wisely and distributed in a fair and equitable way."

In compiling the databases, Spitzer has borrowed a page from the relief effort in Oklahoma City, where 45 charities set up a registry after raising $40 million for victims of the 1995 bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah building. Nancy Anthony of the Oklahoma City Community Foundation says that effort sprang from necessity: "We knew the bombing was too big for any one agency." At first, the registry tracked the families of the 168 people who were killed, as well as the 3000 injured. But over time, it grew along with the relief effort — and aided, for example, rescue workers who’d developed trauma from recovering bodies, workers whose wounds kept them from returning to their jobs, people whose neighboring businesses suffered structural damage from the blast. By 1999, when the database was shut down, it listed as many as 6000 people. "I’m not saying it was perfect," Anthony adds, "but it did coordinate funds. It was essential."

It’s hard to say whether Spitzer can replicate the Oklahoma City effort, since in this case the number of "primary victims" — families of the dead and injured — totals more than 6000. Prichard admits that not all 192 charities have signed on to the project — or even been notified of the coordinaton project. "It’s a monumental task," she says. For weeks, Spitzer tried to persuade the Red Cross to participate in the database, but the charity feared it would violate people’s privacy; two weeks ago, it finally signed on. The United Way has also agreed to participate in the shared database. And since those two organizations control 70 percent of the relief funds, Prichard adds, "We’re at least up and running."