In the AIDS world we are frustratingly polite and politically correct. We're also plagued by NGO-speak and, often, style over substance. I recently spoke out at a meeting about the allocation of resources for treatment and care programs in the national HIV/ AIDS plan. I was met with silence.

Finally an expert from a multilateral agency replied: "I agree with what you have said but." and went on to say what she thought of the plan, completely ignoring my primary concern. Then an external development partner eloquently said, "You are right and you are also not right." He too spoke about the plan in general but did not address my concerns.

We never say "You are wrong, you are talking rubbish." If we could be honest with each other, to the UN, to governments, to all kinds of technical experts, to everyone living off, for and by AIDS, to multinational AIDS agencies, then finally we will be in a position to identify the best programs, best approaches and best practices. And this would help us fight AIDS more effectively.

I've been running a treatment program for the past few years and many people visit our care centre every month. They include AIDS experts, clinicians, managers, researchers, students, journalists and many more. Yet not a single person has been kind enough to tell me that something I have done or am doing is wrong. I wonder sometimes if I am perfect.

Like with many causes, this often becomes a show or a numbers game. Get an invitation to a conference you're not interested in, or not directly in your field, and instead of saving yourself the time, you go anyway, to boost attendance at your own next event. I recently received an invitation to attend an AIDS awareness street drama. Now I am HIV-positive, and probably know more about the disease than most. The organisers probably want to make sure that there are enough people to form a circle in the street.

This culture of political correctness we in the AIDS world have developed is dangerous. We don't explore our mistakes, we "love to share our challenges". We don't write about what went terribly wrong, but say "lessons were learned" (whether they were or not). We don't simply say that we made a horrible mistake, we say "we did our best". Motivational and positive attitudes are well and good. But there is no substitute for a real, critical eye.

Rajiv Kafle is coordinator of Navakiran Plus, a hospice for HIV patients.