This play about the ethics of international development in the global south is a response to a book on world poverty. Playwright Christine Bacon, who is also co-artistic director of human rights theatre company ice&fire, has taken Jason Hickel’s The Divide to show how development agencies from the west may mean well but in practice can perpetuate inequality and suffering rather than alleviate it.

It suffers from a serious case of telling over showing. Statistics are put into the mouths of every actor. Character and story are sacrificed on the altar of information and argument.

We hear US president Harry Truman’s foundational postwar dream of ending world poverty though the creation of international development. The story begins with the writer of Truman’s speech, Ben Hardy (Kevin Trainor), who conceives the idea. We are then whisked to current-day Kenya where his granddaughter, Jo (Ella Bryant), meets activist Kala (Grace Saif) and her eyes are opened to the limits of the international development sector, from its underlying colonialist principles to its political neutrality in the face of heinous wrongdoings.

There is an impassioned performance from Bryant and some good satire in spots: a charity concert in postwar America which might be a prototype for celebrity-led campaigns like Band Aid, and a fundraising event in Nairobi that emphatically aims to guilt-trip wealthy donors to part with their cash. The drama might have worked better if this biting tone had been more consistent.

Instead it leads with number-crunching polemic and statistics alongside some too secondary plotting around Jo’s crisis of conscience and Kala’s abduction by the authorities while she is protesting Kenya’s Finance Bill. The odd drum-roll or comic twist does not do much in dramatic terms and sadly, under the direction of Charlotte Westenra, the production feels longer than its 90-minute duration.

Florence Nightingale (Georgina Rich) pops up to talk about hospital disease and death rates, per thousand. So does the IMF, personified as a surgeon, while the sick patient Kala (also Kenya?) lies in a hospital bed. Leaden with symbolism, they continue to speak in facts and figures. Paradoxically, the human drama there is becomes a distraction from the hard-hitting data while the welter of those facts leeches the potential power of the drama.