Keeping faith

29/12/2014

“Do you believe in the work NGOs do?”

The question catches me off guard and I pause to stare at the woman talking to me. She is from Lebanon, we crossed paths literally on a little jungle trail leading from Pokhara to Sarangkot. She is going up, I’m going down.

She stops to ask me how far it is to the top. We are both sweaty from the heat. It is a gorgeous day with clear blue skies and a warm sun. I have been taking pictures all morning of paragliders and birds against a backdrop of mountains and the glimmer of Phewa lake in the distance. She is a little out of breath from the climb and our conversation gives her a moment to rest.

She loves talking to people so she loses no time in asking me about myself:

-          What do you do here?

-          I study.

-          What do you study?

-          Women who whitewater kayak.

-          Oh….what’s that?

…

-          Well, what exactly is your field of study?

-          International and intercultural communication.

-          Oh….what’s that?

I have never really had an adequate explanation for what it is that I do. Maybe it’s because what I do changes so often. For lack of a better explanation, I tell her that I work for NGOs advocating for women’s rights and development. That’s when the question drops:

-          Do you believe in the work NGOs do?”

The question strikes me but I am unable to articulate on the spot what it is about the question that bothers me. Later, I realize that it is her choice of the word “believe” that puzzles me.

We don’t tend to think of our jobs as an act of faith. No one would likely ask a doctor if they believe in the work they are doing- it seems kind of obvious doesn’t it? However, the question may be more relevant than we think. Last fall, I attended a training session where various actors from the justice system presented on what it is that they do. Everyone who presented that day spoke with absolute conviction. Despite its flaws, they had faith in the justice system and seemed to genuinely care about the interests and well-being of offenders and victims. Their commitment to their work surprised me because I was coming from the opposite end of the spectrum where criticisms against the justice system are often expressed.

It might be argued than that my decision to work outside the justice system and in the NGO sector is a reflection of my lack of faith in the justice system and belief that I can do more good changing that system from the outside (and also because I don’t think I would ever survive through law school). But why should I believe in the NGO system which is no less flawed or dysfunctional than the justice system? I could go on at length about the failures of NGOs and the entire “development industry” but I guess the bottom line is that I still think that it is worth trying. I am not so naïve as to believe that working for an NGO will solve all the world’s problems (or even some of the world’s problems), but I do believe that to do nothing is to be complicit in an oppressive system that privileges a small group of powerful elite while marginalizing and erasing the “others”. In this sense, I still believe in our ability to act to create change and to make a difference in the world. But, I also believe that any action taken must be taken responsibly and held accountable. A lot of mistakes have been made in the history of development and continue to be perpetuated today, but we cannot learn from our lessons until we have acknowledged and accepted responsibility for our mistakes. Acting with good intent, but without accountability to those we are seeking to help is as bad as and sometimes worse than not acting at all.

I should also note here, that while I talk about choosing work that one believes in, inherent in what I have discussed is the assumption that people have the luxury and ability to choose what they do for work. Not all jobs give people a sense of purpose, identity and self-worth. Additionally, not all people believe in the work they are doing, but simply need the work. For many people, a job might not be a question of whether or not they believe in it so much as a matter of survival. Yet, in many ways we define ourselves (and others define us) by what we do. By stating “I am a doctor/teacher/bus driver/store clerk/professional feminist” we emphasize our work as a significant source of our identity and self-definition. Rather than saying “I treat sick people/teach children/drive buses/sell items/advocate feminism”, what we do becomes a fixed part of our identity and plays a central role in how we perceive ourselves and others. But by viewing our work as who we are rather than what we do, we solidify it into something fixed, immutable and stable which in turn makes it harder to change our career, profession, class, and social status because these would also require us to change our identity. This may also explain why I never have an appropriate answer to the question “what do you do?” because what I do is always changing and so am I.

(Can you tell I’ve been reading more bell hooks in my spare time?)