That Stephen Lewis, who was duking it out last week with Ed Broadbent for the distinction of Globe and Mail "Nation Builder of the Year," is a great humanitarian there is no doubt -- heck, he has even named a foundation after himself. If anything, "Nation Builder" diminishes the importance of Lewis's contribution. As the UN's special envoy for AIDS/HIV in Africa, "Continent Builder of the Year" seems somehow more appropriate. But it is true that Lewis has helped build the nation to the extent that, together with Broadbent, and other New Democratic eminences like Roy Romanow and Bob Rae, he has fulfilled a useful role for Ottawa's governing politicians, acting as sort of a conscience for the unconscionable. That is what makes Lewis's recent attack on Live 8 organizer Bob Geldof for his "incestuous proximity to government" so jarring.

Lewis accused "Madison Avenue" Geldof of becoming a "cheerleader" for manipulative G8 leaders who met in Scotland after Live 8. "To hear it from crusader Bob Geldof, the summit was a spectacular success, the greatest single gathering on behalf of Africa in the history of mankind," Lewis writes in his book, Race Against Time. "The problem for Geldof lay in his incestuous proximity to government ... it's not an unusual process, this exercise in self-hypnosis; you get caught up in a sense of power and excitement and influence, and lose perspective."

Lewis insinuates that Geldof was co-opted because of his previous membership on the Commission for Africa established in 2004 by Tony Blair, the British Prime Minister. This criticism seems rich, if you pardon the expression, coming from someone who has been on either the Canadian government payroll, or the payroll of some agency of the United Nations, for the better part of a quarter-century.

If "incestuous proximity to government" causes one to "lose perspective," what does that say for Lewis, and in fact all the New Democratic Party luminaries mentioned above, each of whom has received a job from the federal government. Lewis as Canada's ambassador to the United Nations. Broadbent as founding president of the International Centre for Human Rights and Democratic Development, an organization created and funded by Parliament. Romanow as head of the Commission on the Future of Health Care in Canada. And Rae as chairman of the Air India Inquiry and review.

Lewis argues that Geldof, Bono and the other rock stars upstaged what he terms "the principled NGO community." Here he has a point. Who, after all, wants to listen to the messages that emanate from Lewis's community of helping professionals when the alternative is a Pink Floyd reunion? Especially if the alternative resembles Lewis's own solutions, as set out in his book. For example, a call for an international association of social workers to "rally their potentially multitudinous ranks, and offer to train not only every helping profession in Africa, but legions of community-level para-professionals in the art of psycho-social care for orphans." But I don't want to belittle Lewis's contribution in the way that he has Geldof's. It is a race against time, and in that, every contribution matters.

The Live 8 concerts succeeded spectacularly in drawing public attention to the problem of poverty in Africa. Tens of millions watched in person or on television. They were bombarded by images and statements throughout. Whether this awareness will have any lasting impact on policy-making, or whether these hordes will be motivated in their own lives to try to make a difference, are fair questions to ask. But Geldof was motivated by the very best of intentions. He has done nothing to merit Lewis's smirking excoriation.