Here (and below) is the review of Aid Worker Voices by Tobias Denskus published in Aidnography.
“One of the many advantages of being in charge of your own blog is that formats can be adapted. As much as this is my review of Thomas Arcaro’s Aid Worker Voices: Survey Results and Commentary, it is also a snapshot of my ongoing discussion I have had with the author prior to reading his book and discussing the current state and future potential behind the project.
In many ways, Aid Worker Voices is a hybrid: It is a work-in-progress report, a data handbook and an example of reflective writing at the intersection of academia and the aid industry. It is also an invitation to listen to an incredible variety of aid workers and their voices expressed through a unique, comprehensive, long-term survey project.
Based on a census-style 60 question survey that just over 1000 aid workers completed between January 2014 and March 2015 and that is documented on the companion website, the project gathered an incredible range of responses on the state of play of aid work and the aid workers inside the industry. Tom Arcaro is very clear about the limitations of his endeavor:
From the very beginning we were sober about the fact that our respondents were self-selected and, in the end, the survey was only conducted in English, narrowing that self-selection (p.5).
But all qualitative, often ethnographic, engagements with aid workers suffer from various biases and generalizability was never the aim of the project. I agree with Tom that ‘focusing of this need to vent, share, support and laugh together’ (p.8) is an important aspect of any reflective writing and engagement process.
Another core premise of the project and book is Tom takes a positive, humane encouraging approach toward the subject matter of understanding the aid industry through quantitative survey data and many, often very long and thoughtfully articulated, personal reflections that really highlight the ‘voice’ aspect. Here, ‘global citizens’ come together in a ‘humanitarian aid system (that) is far more inclusive than even the complicated ALNAP model infers’ (p.19) is a key premise the project relies on-even if there are many complexities and imperfections within the industry.
Relating micro-issues to the broader humanistic goal of maximizing all human potential Whether the questions relate to faith and religion, gender or family, the insights from the survey offer an interesting mix between not-so-surprising insights (organizational contexts are often paternalistic and many aspects of the industry are not child-friendly) and a confirmation of how aware about various inequalities and problems many respondents are. So for many colleagues and academia or regular readers of the blog notions of complexity and many different shades of grey will sound familiar.
But the thing about aid work that they don’t tell you…you can’t un-see what you’ve seen, good or bad. I can’t un-see or un-experience the amazing days I spent at the beach on the South China Sea in Vietnam any more than I can un-see or un-experience working in an HIV orphanage in Uganda (Becca, 36 years old, female, unmarried) (p.79).
I agree with Tom that ‘being human means to constantly battling contradictions and dealing with multiple options’ (p.83) – a fundamental fact we often tend to forget in our desire to ‘professionalize’ aid work and workers.
‘Thank you for coming. Nobody else has.’ As much of a work-in-progress as this book may seem, it is important to stress that Tom has spent not only time to read through all the responses, but that he put some thought into the quotes, the voices, that are (re)presented throughout his book. Chapter 10 (What do you like – or not like –about being an aid worker?) offers some very profound insights:
I have the privilege to bear witness to and affect change to some niche parts of the human experience (26-30yo white female expat aid worker) (p.112)
That moment when someone comes to you and says ‘Thank you for coming. Nobody else has’ (41-45yo white female expat aid worker) (p.113)
I think that this illustrates the purpose of the project really well: To provide a space for articulating our humanity in a context of sometimes dehumanizing circumstances-both from within the sector, but also from powerful actors outside the industry who create humanitarian ‘theaters’ in the first place and then complain about the failings of those who step in to help.
‘The fired get re-hired’-realistic professionalism But survey project and book are still grounded in the daily experiences and routines of ‘doing aid work’. Comments about ‘Human resources is one of the weakest departments in aid organizations’ (p.144) and strong criticism of MONGOs that Tom summarizes as endeavors often made up by ‘those with big ideas and skinny jeans coming from the global north’ (p.177) are hardly surprising and are a strong reminder that simply brushing off ‘the system is broken’ critique is also not an option to current and future challenges.
Having talked to Tom in two long Skype calls recently I know that he is aware of some of the shortcoming of the current book and welcome critique openly.
Because of the nature of the Aid Worker Voices project the book is missing ‘punch lines’; from a research perspective such ‘confirmatory research’ is important and relevant, but it is also not easy to ‘sell’ to journalists, bust aid workers and ‘civilians’ pressured for time: Tom is working on a series of blog post and other multi-media projects and it will be interesting to see what emerges from the ‘big data’ of survey result.
The book is still a very important contribution to ongoing efforts of ‘representing’ aid work and aid workers in new and different ways, using different tools and writing formats. In that sense Aid Worker Voices is also an experimental contribution, with some of the chapters a bit too long while others, especially towards the end of the book, seem a bit short and lacking more context. Some of the graphics are also a bit difficult to read which turned my focus almost immediately to the longer reflections rather than the aggregated overviews.
I know that Tom was eager to ‘get the book out’ and I look forward to discussing the results further and see how this project evolves-it seems to be the proverbial first step which sets an important journey into motion!
Let’s end on an aid worker voice that captures the spirit of communicating differently with each other that underlines much of the project. Here is Karen, a twenty-something years old expat aid worker stationed in Iraq at the time of writing:
My least favourite things (To the tune of ‘My Favourite Things’ from The Sound of Music)
Writing reports and proposals for ECHO; Drivers who lie and say they know where to go; Poor internet signal so skype never rings, These are a few of my least favorite things. (…) Kisses not handshakes used by strangers as greeting, Especially occurring at long drawn out meetings; Packing for missions, who knows what to bring, These are a few of my least favorite things. (pp.120-121)”
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
Below are some reviews of Aid Worker Voices. Though I put this book together with only the survey respondents in mind, I agree with the reviewers that it will be a useful source of information for those on the outside of the industry that want to get a sense of what aid workers think, feel and experience.
A must-read for whoever is interested in understanding aid workers
“A must-read for whoever is interested in understanding aid workers or wants to become one, as well as for anyone who took part to the “Aid Worker Voices” survey whose results are presented in this book. The author provides some useful background and reflections, but mostly lets aid workers explain, in their own words, what being an aid worker really means to them: from the initial motivation to work in this field to why they keep doing their job despite frustration and disillusionment, whether and how it is possible to have a relationship and even a family, etc. This book does not give solutions to “fix” the aid systems, but paints a quite accurate picture of what aid workers experience in their day-to.day, which is very far from Hollywood representations of it.”
This is an excellent snapshot of the experiences of aid workers
“This is an excellent snapshot of the experiences of aid workers. Dr. Arcaro’s commentary is engaging, often humorous and gives important context (and occasional limits) to the quotes from the workers themselves. Dr. Arcaro and his team chose questions that solicited thoughtful replies — and garnered a surprising variety of responses. Chapters address issues as diverse as corruption in the field to balancing work with family to the future of humanitarian aid. This is a must read if you are in the field or are considering entering it. However, many of the concerns the workers expressed provide a glimpse into modern life as well — and I would recommend it for a broader audience as well.”
MUST read for anyone curious about aid work
“If you are an aid worker, know/live with/are married to an aid worker, or just want to know more about what exactly aid workers experience – this book is for you! Reading this has been like reading my own diary – I found myself saying “YES!” more than once in relation to the experiences shared by the survey respondents. Dr. Arcaro does a superb job of breaking down survey results, adding witty commentary, and giving aid workers a relatable narrative they can share with people in their worlds who don’t understand quite what it is that we do (NO, we’re not spies). I loved this book, and think it’s a must read for anyone seeking insight into the aid workers world!”
An imperative read for those trying to understand the complex relationship between aid work and the state of the world today
“The book Aid Worker Voices was a very impactful read for me. Truthfully, I found a lot of it to be surprising. I had an (incorrect) notion prior to reading this book that most aid workers were optimistic about the state of the world, and that’s why they chose aid as their line of work- because they felt they could make a difference. However, I found the voices of the aid workers to be surprisingly sober about the complexity of aid work and the seeming inability to fix the many problems of this world and the institutions that exacerbate them. I also found it surprising just how impactful aid workers found their jobs to be, in ways both good and bad. They described an inability to “un-see” anything they had witnessed in their work. I believe this creates a sense of isolation in aid workers, as they have seen far more than the many privileged members of society that turn a blind eye to injustice, evil, and need. This, to me, illustrates the need for the book. Aid workers need a space to articulate and share how their very unique work has made them feel. To debrief, decompress, and feel a relief that others have shared similar experiences. No matter what your relation to aid work is- whether you yourself engage in it, a loved one does, or you are simply interested in the industry, this book is a must-read as it highlights the very profound voices of those who are actually serving on the front lines. We have become accustomed to “social justice warriors” sharing informative articles or writing long rants on social media, but how many people do we know that are actually living in the midst of the injustice, trying their best to remedy it? Aid Worker Voices chronicles the story of those who are, and subsequently, is an imperative read for those trying to understand the complex relationship between aid work and the state of the world today.”
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
Aid Worker Voices was published back in September, 2016 and since then I have been busy extending the research with more in-depth interviews with local aid workers and other posts based on more thought and research about a wide variety of topics. Look soon for update posts about local aid workers here in North Carolina, what is it like to be a LGBQI+ aid worker, and some thoughts about the sector overall.
On the margins I am an academic that studies and teaches about aid and development and founded a program with a global development focus, and this puts me decidedly only on the fringes of “the humanitarian aid and development industry.” What I have learned from working with J (aka Evil Genius) on our survey, writing dozens of posts about the data and, finally, putting together Aid Worker Voices is that though I have a lot to learn, my overall experience and my sociology background have provided tools for meaningful comment.
Among others, Thomas Kuhn argues that sometimes the most insightful observations about any field are made by outsiders. Though I am sober enough to know I have not arrived at any profound conclusions about the sector, I do hope that my book adds some useful insights.
The conscience of our global community
I wrote in the preface that collectively workers in the aid and development sector are the conscience of our global community and as such deserve our support and as such merit a deeper and more intense study by both insiders and outsiders. Insofar as there is a ‘global community’, aid workers are its most empathetic and informed representation.
In scouring the academic literature about this topic I found some good resources, for example Silke Roth’s The Paradoxes of Aid Work, the Fecher and Hindman edited book The Anthropology of Professionals in International Development, and Adventures in Aidland:Inside the Everyday Lives of Development Workers edited byDavid Mosse. Though these books are very solid and there is growing academic interest in this filed, I did not find large scale, coordinated and focused emphasis that I think this topic demands. My hope is that Aid Worker Voices makes a useful contribution to this growing body of literature, bit more so that the sector continues to do more navel gazing, lint and all.
Take aways from the survey? I was very surprised and pleased at the amount of time, thought, and passion many respondents put into completing the survey. This shows me at least two things. First, aid workers cared enough to take the time to share their thoughts and emotions and, secondly the survey provided a cathartic moment for many, an opportunity to step outside of their normal routine and be elevated to 35,000 feet for a moment and reflect on the big picture of their life in the sector and broad, related issues.
Many views on the future of aid and development were thoughtful -and critical- especially regarding the overall global structure of aid. Selective perception it may be, but I found very good support for a sober and decidedly anti-neoliberal stance regarding how complicit we (“Westerners”) are in terms of supporting the conditions that make aid and development work necessary. Climate change related disasters will increase, all caused by an blind and consumeristic “developed” world, wars continue in large part in reaction to Western imperialism both past and present, and global poverty is due in no small measure to rampant neoliberalism. This respondent represents many:
“I think humanitarian aid work operates within a system that is built on inequality – we won’t see large scale change happen in the lives of people, in terms of long term development, until we start to challenge the structures and systems that result in this inequity in the first place. And the heart of those institutions is within North America and Europe – until we recognize how dependent we are on the oppression and marginalization of others for our own betterment and benefit (i.e. access to cheap disposable goods, foreign foods and fresh imports, temporary foreign workers to fill low-income job vacancies, etc…), humanitarian aid work is just another cog in this bullshit machinery.”
Many aid workers though very critical of smaller ’boutique’ NGO’s, saw the need for more flexible response allowed for by smaller aid and development entities. Their comments on this topic and several others -corruption, getting fired in the sector, the future of aid and development- presented ample evidence that this industry, like all others, suffers from the inherent and inexorable impact of bureaucratization. Though efforts like those yielding the Core Humanitarian Standards indicate that there can be productive sector-wide coordination, cooperation, and communication responses to several survey questions underlined a high level of frustration among aid workers.
My main take away from the results is that the voices of aid workers are passionate, funny, snarky, and for most part on point. Many of them have useful thoughts about the way forward for the sector and need to be listened to be those in positions to impact policy.
I will continue exploring and reporting on the inhabitants of “Aidland” in hope that my contributions will add to the growing body of knowledge about -and by- this “conscience of our global community.”
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
Below is a press release from Elon University about Aid Worker Voices. Here is the revised press release that came out today that includes comments from Becca Price, Elon ’01, who helped in many phases of the project.
Sociologist Tom Arcaro tells the story of the global aid workers using their own voices
The book, published by Carpe Viem Press, is now available
Sept. 23, 2016 — Using expansive insights from more than 1,000 development aid workers around the world, Tom Arcaro tells the stories of their challenges, triumphs and motivations in “Aid Worker Voices.”
This latest book by Aracaro, a renowned professor of sociology at Elon University, is now available on Amazon as a paperback or Kindle edition through Carpe Viem Press. The book is the product of years of work by Arcaro including an in-depth survey of a broad swath of aid workers. Arcaro has distilled the results of that comprehensive survey to produce “Aid Worker Voices, a nearly 300-page book that appeals to a wide range of readers.
“A must-read for whoever is interested in understanding aid workers or wants to become one, as well as for anyone who took part to the “Aid Worker Voices” survey whose results are presented in this book,” says one reviewer on Amazon. “This book does not give solutions to “fix” the aid systems, but paints a quite accurate picture of what aid workers experience in their day-to-day, which is very far from Hollywood representations of it.”
“Aid Worker Voices” is the intersection of multiple interests — Arcaro’s role as director of Project Pericles at Elon, a program helps instill students with a sense of social responsibility and civic concern, and his growing interest in global development aid and those that work in the field. “Over the years, I’ve gotten more and more immersed in development aid material and literature, and reading more and more about development aid workers,” Arcaro said.
Arcaro said he was overwhelmed by the volume of respondents to the survey, which was made available online for about eight months, as well as the depth of the responses that aid workers provided. “The people that responded are the real deal — these are the aid workers with a lot of experience,” Arcaro said. “I was just amazed at the thoughtfulness that some people put into their answers.”
Many took the time to write a “short essay” in response to some survey questions, with Arcaro saying he heard from some that “it was cathartic to do the survey because no one had ever asked them about these things before.”Among the areas explored are the motivations workers as they entered the field, their thoughts on bureaucracies and aid organizations, how faith enters into their work, the impact of their gender on the work they do and how they are received, and issues surrounding race and identity.
Arcaro also dives into the challenges aid workers might face explaining the work they do to those that aren’t involved in the field and why those who have changed careers left this line of work. Arcaro also used the insights he gained from the survey to look at the future of the development aid sector. “It was just fun and frankly an honor to read all of what they had to write,” Arcaro said of the survey responses. “It was humbling that so many took the time to respond so thoughtfully.”
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
The blog that turned into a book Aid Worker Voices is available for purchase now on Amazon in hard copy or as a download on Kindle.
I have so many people to thank in getting this project done. From the book:
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to the 1010 nameless aid and development workers who took the time to complete the survey and especially those who provided rich narrative responses to the many open-ended questions. Also thanks to the dozens of aid workers with whom I Skyped, emailed or otherwise communicated with to get additional background information. Special thanks go to Annalisa Addis, Amelie Gagnon, Lucy O’Donoghue and Becca Price for reading, commenting on and contributing to early drafts of the manuscript.
I deeply appreciate all of the beta readers for taking time to provide feedback, among them Elizabeth Stanfield, Karen Mac Randal, Dee Zarnowski, Killian Barefoot, Stacey Oliver, Gabrielle Richard, Keely Alexander, Federica, and Joshua Sidwell.
At Elon University thanks go to the members of the Elon University Faculty Research and Development Committee for granting me a sabbatical so that I could devote concentrated time to pour through the data and write the blog posts which form the basis of this book.
My student assistant Laura Murphy kept me on track month after month and provided very useful feedback and valuable spreadsheet work.
Teresa LePors of Belk Library provided critical research assistance.
My editor Jennie Langley kept my spirits high and the manuscript in great order. Additional editing assistant expertly provided by Xernay Aniwar and Morgan Seijo-Vila’.
My most special thanks go to my partner from the very beginning of this project. He goes by the nom de guerre of “J”.
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
How does your LGBTQ+ identity affect your aid industry workplace experience?
Filling a gap Our original survey did not target the opinions of those who identify as LBGTQ+. Toward the goal of making it possible for Aid Worker Voices to include this significant subpopulation, I did some additional interviews and, on the suggestion of several people, worked with my colleague J to construct a ‘mini-poll’ exploring the question “How does your LGBTQ+ identity affect your aid industry workplace experience?”
We began the online survey with these words:
The aid industry goes to great lengths to persuade itself and others that it is a champion for justice and equality in the world. The UN system, NGOs of all sizes and kinds, and individual humanitarians invest time, energy, sometimes even money to make the point that they are forever on the right sides of all the issues. If there is one apparent element of aid/dev/NGO/UN worker identity, it would be this notion that we are all open-minded and inclusive.
Since we’re all so open-minded, it would make sense, then, that our organizations are havens of peace and light, that our workplaces are sanctuaries from an intolerant and sometimes downright cruel outside world. Right?
There are many issues over which relationships and workplace tolerance can unfortunately break down (including in the aid industry): Nationality, ethnicity, religion…
In this mini-poll we’d like to take a look at how sexual preference and gender identity can play out in the context of the aid industry workplace. Specifically we’d like to discuss perceptions and experiences from our LGBTQ+ colleagues.
Note: Yes, we do understand that sexual orientation and gender identities and expressions are complex and personal issues that can vary in time. When we asked people what terms and acronyms they felt were most appropriate, we literally got a different response from every single person. For the purposes of this survey, we’re going with LGBTQ+ to refer to individuals who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer or otherwise non-heterosexual, as well as trans.
Note: This survey is not limited to LGBTQ+ people. If you do not identify as LGBTQ+ yourself, we would like you to answer each question as you believe it applies to LGBTQ+ people in the aid industry or in your place of work.
Survey says… The response to the survey has been good and the vast majority (96%) of those who gave their opinions are industry insiders and/or have an intimate knowledge of the sector, and 86% indicated that they identify as LGBTQ+. So, cred level appears high among those responding, which makes the voices shared worth a close listen.
The mini-poll contained ten questions, all but a few allowing for open-ended comments. As with our original survey (the data from which are reported and commented on in Aid Worker Voices), I was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness with which some people responded.
So here are the results.
In response to the question “In your opinion how accepting of those who identify as LGBT+ is the aid and development industry?” predictably only 2% thought there were no problems which many -39%- indicating that the industry had serious problems. The fact that (1) the industry is very large and diverse and thus it is difficult to generalize and (2) there is a significant difference between the organization home base and ‘in the field’ was highlighted in some comments. These comments articulate well both points.
“There are obviously vast disparities between different organisations and different offices within the same organisation.
However, as an industry there is very limited recognition of LGBTI staff and/or how their security, health and well-being might be affected by their identity and orientation. So, although many individuals who work in this industry are accepting, the industry as a system is not.”
“While the AID industry in certain ways can be quite progressive in certain ways, it also continues to perpetate a lot of the same problems that underscore homophobia within our global discourse. It silences LGBTI staff versus raising their profiles or supporting the issues. They fail to understand the complexities of why Gender and sexual diversity issues, just like gender, underscores all development issues beyond just staff.”
“There is not enough programming for beneficiaries who identify as lgbtq nor is there enough support for national and expat (although a bit more) who identify as lgbtq.”
“There is a “culture” of general social justice, “the left”, and being inclusive but both institutionally and culturally humanitarian aid is much less accepting than it thinks it is. There is minimal support and knowledge of how to support and deal with LGBT issues that can arise in the field and generally LGBT people are just told to keep quiet and not cause trouble for their organization.”
So my read of the above is that though the sector may appear progressive it lacks complete followthrough on the idea that being inclusive means just that, and that if efforts toward this end fail to account for those who identify as LGBTQ+ there is still much work to be done. On this note, here is what one respondent said regarding a lack of action.
“Zero appetite for including LGBTQ+ in protection programming – at least explicitly- so little wonder that among staff the issue is largely ignored.”
But can the sector as a whole really pivot in a more progressive direction when there are many faith based organizations for which this type of inclusiveness flies in the face of religious doctrine? Said one respondent,
“I work for a Christian aid agency, some colleagues are homophobic and the organisation has an official stance against equal marriage.”
How many degrees of ‘out’ are there? Are LGBTQ+ aid workers ‘out’?
Were we to live in a world of binaries that might be a simple question. We do not.
Here is what the respondents indicated, and as you can see there are many degrees of disclosure. In my field of sociology we make the distinction between ’emotional telling’ and ‘instrumental telling’, that is, between opening up to those with whom you interact because you care about them and vice versa and in telling others only for practical, necessary purposes (for example telling your dentist that you are HIV+). In aid and development work both kinds of telling happen and this varies considerably from situation to situation. While deployed in some areas of the world the decision to ‘tell’ or not can be critical. Listen to these next voices.
“I could possibly be forced out of my job in the Middle East at my (very large and respected NGO) because of my sexuality. They, in general, do not like the issues associated with having out gay men. There have been instances where gay male nationals who were too effeminate have been forced out of the organization.”
“I work for the UN and it has pro-LGBT policies and the environment is tolerant in HQ locations based on my experience. However, I have worked in E.Africa and many staff were highly homophobic – international staff – mainly from all over Africa. In my current field posting, many staff come from conservative countries or religious backgrounds that are homophobic, so despite working for the UN the atmosphere is entirely different from HQ and I have seen the bullying of LGBTQ+ and open homophobic comments.”
Our data were clear on this topic with the vast majority -77%- saying that “I feel more threatened, marginalized, or just offended from host governments, communities, and beneficiaries, etc. than in the workplace.” And even when your immediate workmates in the field are open-minded, there are still major safety and career concerns.
“I feel that I have open-minded colleagues in the field. I am openly gay to them but as they don’t have many other LGBTQ+ friends or colleagues, I worry that they may inadvertently put me in a difficult or dangerous situation. The management of my workplace have little appreciation of this challenge that I face. I wouldn’t be sure that they would stand by me if a homophobia incident caused a breakdown with a partner that threatened a project. They’d probably just move me to another project, and this wouldn’t necessarily be good for my career.”
“I do not feel it would be safe for my career or wellbeing to be open in the UN compound and environment in which I work. Only the younger, western or westernised, professional level and higher educated colleagues seem to be non-homophobic and open. However, the majority of colleagues are not of this type and homophobic remarks are rampant amongs security, pilots, administrative staff etc. It sounds snobbish but it’s true. In my section I don’t feel threatened at all despite that some colleagues are a bit homophobic in general, despite being human rights workers. For national staff, homophobia is normal, nobody could ever be out to national staff here or anyone in the host community.”
Do managers make deployment decisions based on LGBTQ+ status? Here is what one respondent said,
“While difficult to substantiate, I believe that I have not been considered for a series of overseas assignments for which i was highly qualified, due to my status. I was once inadvertently included in an email trail from senior HR managers confirming that I would not get a post because of my status. This was extremely demoralizing to me from a career standpoint.”
Moving forward toward policy solutions? In the final two questions of the survey we asked what could be done to move the needle in a more positive direction to make the work experience for those identifying as LGBTQ+ better. The responses were thoughtful and, in some cases, provocative. This respondent suggests what might be considered an unreasonable pathway forward given the fundamental humanitarian mandate to provide assistance as neutrally as possible. But, then, when and how do we make progress?
“Insist with the receiving countries that all staff be accepted without reference to race, gender or sexual orientation. Easier said than done, but someone needs to set an example. I believe that if the state discriminates against its LGBTQ minority, it should be sanctioned by the HRC and denied development/aid assistance.”
Many respondents suggested something along the lines of “change HQ policies to have them explicitly include language -and put teeth to that language- protecting staff identifying as LGBTQ+.” One went on to include the point that beneficiaries need also to be considered.
“I believe more funding and programmes should be available for this very vulnerable group. In displacement or refugee settings, LGBTQ+ communities are often twice or thrice times the victims or prejudice, assault and socio-economic vulnerability.”
This next respondent who sums up much of the above while making a specific suggestion.
“The UN bureaucracy needs to get over its squeamishness about the ‘third sex’. It needs to take a much more principled stance with member states that persecute their gay citizens through punitive laws and state-sanctioned violence. Perhaps its time for a “UN-Gay” organization to emerge that will lobby for the rights and interests of 10% of humanity? But good luck getting funding! On a personal level, I genuinely feel that my career prospects have been stymied by my coming out at work and that senior managers in my organization do not feel empowered to support my advancement. I also feel that HR will only ‘reward’ those who remain closeted and single. Of course, prevailing attitudes in the UN reflect the membership of 193 states, the majority of which are socially conservative. But aren’t we allowing the membership to dictate policies that only add to the prevailing climate of prejudice against LGBTQ people? The UN needs to lead by example and adopt truly inclusive policies that really do assist its gay employees.”
I’ll end this section with the touching and very personal words from one soul willing to share. Certainly many aid workers sacrifice, but perhaps LGBTQ+ bear an additional layer of psychological pain.
“Intimacy is the biggest hurdle. Imagine going for months without any expression of a deep part of your personhood. It is isolating and safe spaces are definitely needed.”
More details from a happily married gay woman One veteran development worker took the time to address the questions in the survey with a bit more detail.
“The degree to which the aid and development industry is accepting of LGBTQ+ people is a tricky question, and the answer has an individual and an institutional level.
Let me explain part of the complexity. Although the organisation I am familiar with includes in their staff rules that everybody should embrace diversity, not discriminate, and respect each others differences. At least officially there is a safe space created for everybody to be who they are, so technically, the industry -or at least my organisation- is quite open and welcoming to every kind of person really.
But the reality is that these same organisations have offices in many countries where there is State-sponsored homophobia – so de facto, LGBTQ+ people (or at least myself) are excluding themselves from employment opportunities by fear of being harassed, threatened, or even jailed (this happened to someone in Senegal, because they were gay). If one wants to progress in their career, try something new, get other experiences, it might be difficult to rotate if you identify as LGBTQ+.
Last year I contemplated a post in Nairobi. Knowing that Kenya criminalises homosexuality and that social climate might be hostile regarding this issue, I had to ask myself if I wanted to put my wife in such environment, and most importantly our child. So we considered living apart (i.e. in different countries), moving in Nairobi with a gay male couple (to pass as two straight couples), living in a high-security bubble, only interact with like-minded expats —we seriously considered even the craziest options.
I have no trouble in serving in countries that have laws that I am against, but will I put my family at risk for sheer career progression? I am not able to take that step. I am lucky enough to be based in a European capital, and I get to work in countries where I could never dream of living in with my family.
What I have become to realise is that when I was a more junior professional, I tended to avoid social situations from colleagues, especially colleagues that I could not have ‘checked’ if they were open or not on social issues. Not so much because I would fear their reaction, but mainly I guess because I would not want to deal with the awkwardness of having to explain. Once, I introduced my wife as ‘my wife’ to a colleague and right there, in front of us, she literally replied “what do you mean?” That was awkward.
Now, older? Wiser? That I am positioned in a more senior position? In another country? I feel that I do not owe anything to anyone and that I do not have to deal with their reaction, basically.
In my office, everybody knows I am gay: peers, supervisors, interns, etc. It’s a relatively small office where we are all very social, so from the start it was a no brainer for me to be transparent about my personal life—and I felt very free about it. At my HQ, also, as soon as discussions become personal, I am absolutely open about being gay. I take it for granted that if someone asks about my intimate life, they are able to deal with any reality that it might entail. If not, too bad for them.
By contrast the reality is that when I work with my clients, outside of my organization, I am absolutely mute on my spousal situation. The great thing in having a child, is that I can redirect any discussion (or just focus on) things about children. That’s my joker. And I don’t need to lie.
A family of three head out on holiday.
What I try to do is to position myself as an ally to anyone who is not ‘conforming’. There was a colleague in one of our small country offices that I thought was gay – others were teasing him about not being married, and I could feel that he was not so comfortable with the teasing so I supported him not to be wishing to marry (quoting my grandma: “don’t get married!”) and made a case about living one’s own life etc. Then a few months later, colleagues were still teasing him about not being married, and then he said he had found someone but that this person ‘did not fully meet his family expectations’ or that it was something like ‘socially impossible’… and I was like “I knew it!”… but what happened next is that he basically declared he was in love with me. And then I was like ‘this is soooooo wrong, if he only knew’!
I don’t really feel threatened or marginalized, in the field than when back at HQ but I do feel in the closet with my clients, and totally free with my peers, colleagues, supervisors, etc. In fact, one thing I find very comforting is the fact that my office peers with whom I am open (out of the closet) are very sensible and sensitive to potential threaths to me when we travel together — when discussions fall into very heteronormative issues or when I am asked about my “husband”, colleagues do not hesitate to tag with me in adding more nuance, or even to help me protect my cover. I find this unspoken alliance very sweet!
What could the industry do to change for the better the work experience for those who are LGTBQ+? Perhaps there is a distinction to make between single, couple, family LGBT situations. Single people can deal with their lives themselves, perhaps. For couples, there might be a need for the employers to facilitate or help with employment of the partner… but for families, I really do not know what would be a workable solution. The only concrete thing I could see the industry doing is to lobby on government to abolish discriminatory legislation, so at least people can feel safe, or at least not threatened by law.
Being gay absolutely limits your posting/ employment opportunities when you have a family. If I were single, I would probably be ok to take a few years of potentially dry spell, or try something new:)
But when you are not alone, the professional benefits have to be weighted by the living conditions on your family, and that is not easy. I am happy because I get to travel frequently to work with my clients, while being posted in an open city, but I do see the limitations on my career.”
Others in the closet? As a final note I’ll mention that as part of this research process I interviewed a number of aid and development workers who live in a parallel closet, namely those who are atheists. In particular, many non-believers who happen to work for faith based organizations feel compelled to play the game of ‘passing’ with their colleagues and superiors, remaining ‘closeted’ atheists, as it were. That there are laws against nonbelievers in some countries and that the lives of ‘out’ atheists are in danger -as is the case in Bangladesh- cannot be ignored, especially given the fact that there are likely more atheists in the aid sector than there are LGBTQ+. A final take home point here is that we need all to work toward a world where there is tolerance for all and that a ‘you be you’ attitude is more globally accepted by individuals, organizations and governments.
I am not holding my breath on that happening anytime soon, though.
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
You do you Our survey respondents were overwhelmingly female -71%- and they had a lot to say on all topics. Below Becca, a 36 year old expat aid worker, currently living in the US but -no new story here- a frequent traveler to Southeast Asia and west Africa. Her career story reflects many themes that appeared in our data:
She entered the sector very early post-university, not quite knowing what was ahead.
Though she has seen some of the worst conditions -think Ebola response in Guinea- she maintains a deep commitment to what she does.
Her deployment record is lengthy, varied, and seemingly never-ending.
She is challenged by the countless times non-sector people have questioned her job, motives, life choices and even the meaning of her life’s work.
Before we get to her thoughts, a personal aside. I too have trouble with communicating what I do and why I do it up to and including putting together this book. When I have nothing to gain -in terms of extrinsic rewards- why devote so much time and effort? How will this help to pay the bills? The push back is sometimes subtle, but it is there, making the time when I can burrow down into this work all the more valuable to me.
But, now on to Becca. Below she shares her story as it relates to personal relationships, both current and prospective. A single, post-30 year old woman, she is embroiled in an internal clash between her moral, humanistic calling to be of service to others and her very human urge to engage in long-term mate bonding. We know from research on the topic of happiness that both making meaningful impact upon our world and close family relationships are essential factors. Her dilemma is that, though she has good relations with her family or orientation she lacks even the beginning of a family of procreation.
What’s a girl to do? Here’s Becca’s thoughts:
Becca, aid worker
“Are you married?” “Do you have kids?” “Are you in a relationship?” “Have you met anyone?”
These questions can bring any woman over a certain age to their knees, but when you’re an aid worker, they often lead to additional questions and comments which can be downright debilitating.
Becca’s pooch, Belle.
“Well, would you like to be married?” “How do you expect to meet someone if you’re always traveling?” “You work such long hours; it must be difficult to meet someone.” “Honey – I really want a grandchild – don’t you think it’s time to settle down?”
And with every “no”, the final comment is usually something along the lines of “Well, at least you get to travel such exotic locations – I’d give anything to see what you’ve seen”. The grass-is-always-greener syndrome.
If “Aid Workers Anonymous” was a thing, I’d start each meeting with – “Hi, my name is Becca, and I’m 36 years old, female, unmarried, and don’t have children”, in an effort to address the elephant in the room straightaway and not give others the chance to ask the dreaded litany of questions.
Because in the United States, a woman over thirty that is career-oriented, unmarried, and without kids is almost sacrilegious. Our media touts stories either applauding or lamenting the ability for women to “have it all” … but what does that mean when you’re an aid worker? Does having it all have to include kids and a husband and the white picket fence and a dog named Spud and giving up the international travel and life experiences you’re having in the field?
Of course not – in fact, that stereotype doesn’t have to exist for women in any profession, though – as I’m starting to sound like I’m standing on a soapbox – I’ll stick with what I know and describe my experience as an aid worker and how it’s impacted my relationships – past, present, and future goals.
I literally fell into the aid worker role. I’d been working in Charleston, South Carolina for a year, hating my job working in the very upper-crust, blue-blood preservation world (turns out I’m neither upper-crust nor blue-blood), and responded to an advertisement to get back into the project management world through an organization largely funded by the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). I stopped in Chapel Hill, NC for the interview on my way home for Thanksgiving, was awarded the job on the spot, and the rest is history.
Flying into Guinea
That was more than 10 years ago, and I’ve had a million opportunities since then. I’ve traveled extensively throughout sub-Saharan Africa supporting a malaria prevention program; I lived in Hanoi, Vietnam for 14 months supporting an HIV prevention program focusing on key at-risk populations (men who have sex with men, drug users, and sex workers; as my mentor would say – “sex and drugs and rock ‘n roll”); I’ve been to Bangkok and Jakarta more times than I can count; and was lucky enough to spend a full month touring the Caribbean on an HIV/Human Resources for Health (HRH) project. I’m currently based in Wilmington, North Carolina, am managing 2 staff, four international projects (2 each in Guinea and Thailand), and am pretty content in my job. Every day isn’t rainbows and unicorns and the travel can be wearing, BUT … overall, I’m content.
While my career is in a pretty good place, I’d say my relationship life is … meh. I have great friends and a supportive family, but … I’m the only one in my group of friends that is unmarried and without kids. I’m currently single (and ready to mingle, fellas!), but tend to work a godawful number of hours in a week, travel frequently, and spend any free time I carve out sleeping, or binge watching Netflix, or traveling domestically to see friends and family, or hanging out with my dog. I’ve recently realized that I live for my job, as opposed to the other – “normal” – way around.
Most of the time, I’m perfectly content – I recently bought a house, have some disposable income to play with, and get to travel the world. But sometimes – like during a recent anniversary party celebrating two of the best friends a girl could ask for; or after spending 3 weeks with best friends made in Hanoi and my godson – it gets a bit lonely. And then I look at my life and think – “Shit. I’m 36 years old. Yes, I get to travel the world, and yes, I love what I do, but … is this all there is?”
Going into the field is always a treat as a single woman as well. I find that, globally, folks have NO PROBLEM asking how old you are, if you’re married, if you’d like to be married, if you have kids, if you’d like to have kids, and commenting generally on anything from your hair color to your weight to your clothes in relation to why you’re single and don’t yet have kids.
Translation – people can (unknowingly) be rude. And those rude comments can be hell.
I didn’t make a conscious choice to “give up” one dream (the husband, babies, white picket fence, and all that) when I became an aid worker. I also FIRMLY believe that that the two don’t have to be mutually exclusive … you can ABSOLUTELY be an aid worker, follow your dream, travel the world, and still have a family.
I do think that the United States is a bit harsher in terms of timelines and reminders of a woman’s biological clock. I never felt old or any pressure to procreate when I was living in Hanoi … women around me – single AND married – were in their 40’s and just either having or adopting their first child. My best friend from Hanoi used to constantly tell me, “Becca, you’re 34 years old … why in the world do you think it’s over for you” when I would lament the fact that I wanted a husband and wanted kids (I can get a bit whiny, truth be told).
But on the flip side of that, it felt like my family and friends who thought my Hanoi stint was just a blip … “surely, she’ll return to the real world and settle down and start that family she’s always talking about”.
Coming home from Hanoi was eye opening, and not just related to the husband/baby pressure … I’d been away 14 months and my entire world had changed. I’d experienced and seen things that my family and friends never would. I’d been put through the ringer by my company and the donor, and lived to tell the tale. I made friendships that I was convinced (and have been proven right) would become some of the most important in my world.
But I was expected to fit right back into the “Becca” mold I’d previously inhabited. I should forget about Hanoi, go right back to work, and FIND A HUSBAND SO I CAN FINALLY HAVE THE BABIES I’VE ALWAYS WANTED.
Oof – just thinking back to that time is exhausting.
Sitting here writing this, I’ve just come off of a 2-month period where I’ve been to Guinea for 2 weeks, Bangkok for 3, and spent 2 weeks with friends that traveled from the UK for their first-ever visit to America. I’ve put a moratorium on work travel for the foreseeable future, and think it’s time to start focusing on me and meeting those relationship goals I do have … I would like to meet someone, and I would like to have children one day … and half the battle of even TRYING to meet someone is having the time to do so – to go on dates and decide if you’re a match. When you’re traveling all the time, it’s really hard to make that a priority. So I’ve drawn a line in the sand with my job, and am ready to turn the focus back to me.
Will it work? Who knows. But ya gotta try, right???
I don’t know if I’ve got any great wisdom to share or true conclusions to be drawn, but I think it’s important for aid worker women to know a few things:
There is NOTHING wrong with you because you’ve chosen a life in aid work as opposed to a more “traditional” job (but even as I write that, I think “what does that even mean?”).
Being an aid worker does not preclude you from having a husband and babies (if you so desire).
NOT having a husband and babies is TOTALLY cool too!
Being “of a certain age” should not provoke knowing head nods and slight grimaces when you tell people how old you are and that you’re single. Those people are assholes.
Aid work is about passion … if you love what you do and are fortunate enough to have the husband and babies too – more power to you. If the other half of the equation hasn’t come along just yet … relax … you’re still doing amazing work for the world and should feel proud of that!
In other words …
You do you … and tell any naysayers to go fuck themselves.
The malady of infiniteness
I suspect that many aid worker’s can relate to Becca’s story and will nod that ‘the struggle is real.’ This tension between the moral and mating callings within the heart is timeless and certainly not restricted to females, and, as Becca points out, there are no easy solutions. The sociologist Emile Durkheim told us long ago that we are destined to wrestle with the ‘malady of infiniteness’, with social possibilities being many and life paths being limited. Being human means to be constantly battling contradictions; we are a species who can frequently imagine and desire more than our finite lives can provide.
And so it is with most everyone, including SWF aid workers.
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
“I finally feel like I fit somewhere.”
–36-40yo female expat aid worker
“Did you have an advisor look this over before you created it?” –18-25yo male expat aid worker
Voices of thanks and snark
Yes, we’re done. Almost. The only appropriate end to this exploration of aid worker voices must come from the aid workers themselves. Here are their -and my- parting shots.
Our final question on the survey, Q61, asked “Please use the space below to share your feelings about any of the above questions.”
Yes, at the end of a very long survey containing 61 questions and including 23 open-ended “add your comments” questions, nearly 1 in 5 (18%) intrepid souls felt called to put in their last thoughts. To each of these aid workers I say “Thanks!”
Many, in fact, literally shared their feelings with comments like
“I feel all my cynicism and bitterness coming up :-)”
“It has been good to write these down and share my thoughts-thanks!”
“This is a depressing quiz.”
“It has been helpful to reflect and a safe place to write about some of my anger.”
Indeed, that the survey provided a “safe place to write about some of [her] anger”speaks to the core purpose of this book [blog], that is to provide a place to amplify aid worker voices.
This one from a 31-35yo female HQ worker I think captured the feelings of many when she wrote,
“Good questions. Necessary questions. I apologize if I used it as an opportunity to vent. It felt good. And I should probably say that if you’d caught me on a different day, I may have been slightly more optimistic. But I guess the roller-coaster aspect of the job is what we all know.”
That she took responding to the survey as an “opportunity to vent” is one of the main reasons that we kept the survey ‘live’ for so long (14 months). We made the survey public never having a clear plan for how long it would remain available; we had no compelling methodological logic driving this choice, rather the decision was based on the positive cathartic function the survey appeared to be serving for many. Here is another blush from a 31-35yo female expat aid worker:
“Very interesting survey and I appreciate the chance to share my views – it is surprising how little time (and few opportunities) one has to actually *think* about things in the busyness of the day-to-day. I wish your survey results could be shared in an open forum (not only virtual) where significant players can be present and honestly reflect for a moment.”
Many of the 181 respondents that took the time to write on this final question -41%, in fact. Of these many commented on how interesting it was to answer the questions and many said they’d be very interested to read the final results. Dozens of people write just to say “thanks.”
Here are a few representative examples:
“Interesting and thanks for doing it.”
“Just would like to say that I think it’s great that you’re doing this work and gathering this info. Wishing you the best of luck with your project.”
“This has been a useful exercise in self-reflection. Good luck!”
One young female HQ aid worker went so far as to talk about how she might use some of the questions as a point of departure for workplace discussions.
“I’ve asked a few of these questions to some of my closer peers- the ones who I feel are on the same page as me, and will partake in a good rant over lunch. But going through this and how important these questions are, for better understanding ourselves and each other, I’m feeling more confident in posing some of these to others. Who knows- maybe even some of those internally-focused, ladder-climbing types just need to be challenged and made to revisit these issues. I may give it a go (albeit in a situation that I can escape quicker than a sit-down lunch).
Reflections on a career Some took the opportunity to reflect on their career and aspects of the sector as a whole. One pattern in the responses was clear: many felt that working in the humanitarian aid sector was a meaningful career choice, especially as an alternative to working in the for-profit sector.
I was touched when I read this response below from a young aid worker. His passion and conviction are evident, and I believe his assessment of and motivations for being in the sector are shared by many.
“I think it is easy to see aid workers as a little hedonistic. I think this is true. They can be, and many are. There is definitely a certain something that makes us all tick. But, deep down, something this survey might reveal, they all have very strong motivations for getting into the sector. You see a lot of them talking about work all the time, but not so many talking about their motivations. Many can seem cold to everything, but I think that is a coping mechanism. People get into the sector because they care, and they will always care, they just get a little hardened. It is easy to see this in the way an aid worker will slag off every NGO under the sun to their same-sector colleagues – but in the midst of non-aid workers, they would defend the sector to the death! I do this job because I care. I care because I feel politically driven by the wealth divide the world suffers under. I feel undeserving of the education I have received for free and think everyone should be entitled to the same, and the same opportunities. At the same time, the burning political motivations inside me stop me from being able to work in a normal sector. I can not physically motivate myself to work for the purpose of making someone else rich. I do not believe in the capitalist system. If I’m not working to directly assist people, I do not work. So, as much as it is a sacrifice to work in this sector, sacrificing money, relationships, stability, friends. It is also a selfish decision. I want to do this work as I get to closely fulfil my ideals, it keeps me motivated, I get to travel, I get to help people, and I don’t have to be a ‘slave to the system’!” –26-30yo male expat aid worker
This next one ends in a quite sober fashion. With very personal words this young woman describes the stages of self-reflection many aid workers go through and uses this moment to vent about the differences between the intense life the “field” and contradiction of working in HQ.
“I have been working for the past 5 years in this field, in a variety of locations, such as HQ, refugee camps, field offices, and have experienced different levels of cooperation between humanitarian actors. It seems to me that the bigger the crisis, the brighter the spotlight, and the less inclined people are to work together because they want to shine. Also, my opinion is that humanitarian workers go completely mad, because they see so many things – good and bad – that they have to cope with in their own ways. At one point it becomes much less about the people you are helping because you are very consumed with what is happening with your own self. Also, the fact that you get sniped, stoned, spat on, raped and so on while doing humanitarian work doesn’t help keep up idealism. You ask yourself “why am I doing this” more and more often and when you finally get out of it and make it to HQ you feel so removed from the work and start thinking that you work for a multinational for-profit. And then you get bogged down by the salary, benefits and think you deserve it all because you spent time in the field. Just to sum it up, I think I’ll be leaving this field soon, because you’re of no use to anyone, if you’re cynical and burnt out.” –26-30yo female expat aid worker
Though our respondents were from all age groups there was a definite concentration in the younger ages. The voice below from a legit silverback speaks to the fulfillment sensed by some in the sector.
“Overall, my “midlife crisis” going into aid work was a good decision for my wife and me. It was a whole new career of over 20 years that gave me a new perspective on the world. I would not have traded those 20 years for anything. In semi-retirement I continue to do aid work.” –66-70yo male expat aid worker
This next voices the frustration of trying to explain the work.
“I think humanitarian work is tough and confusing and those outside of it definitely don’t get it and those within it barely get it. It’s both good and bad like everything else and though I’m leaving soon, my feelings haven’t changed much. Yes, I’m skeptical, but I still believe that working for an NGO is better than working for a corporate entity; my work has more of a chance to do good rather than to help a shareholder. I will probably come back to humanitarian work in some form, but first there are personal projects that I have to do and pursue self-employment options outside of humanitarianism.” –36-40yo male based in HQ
Let the snark begin Although the tenor of most responses was positive or neutral, there were more than a few (14, to be exact) that felt moved to provide direct, negative feedback, some of which is well taken; the survey questions were not perfectly worded by any means. There were unfortunate question and response wordings, missed
opportunities for easier coding and analysis, perhaps some important topics inadvertently left out, and even an overall tone that could have been more thoughtful or focused. To be clear, I think that much can be learned from those who cared enough to be critical.
A few were just a tad bit patronizing and not very helpful (and yes, I do notice that these all come from males).
“Did you have an advisor look this over before you created it?” –18-25yo male expat aid worker
“Poorly worded questions, focus on humanitarian without defining what that is. Subjective responses will be useless in determining and findings when compiled.” -50-55yo male expat aid worker
“You should work on some of the questions. -36-40 male expat aid worker
One middle aged (white) male HQ worker commented very thoughtfully (“seriously, who designed this survey?”) on the wording of many questions and in one case pointed out a flaw common in many surveys, especially those like this one asking about people’s perceptions and opinions. With a survey taken at one point in time what you get is more snapshot than moving picture. Listen to how he puts this:
“Every answer here needs to be contextualized in the transition I am undergoing: I have been working for a donor, and have just transitioned to working for a [African] non-profit. This transition was spurred by positively hating working for a donor (initially I was thrilled). Only time will tell if I end up hating this as much!”
He ended his contribution as a respondent with this:
“Hire a survey designer: 1/4 of these questions were really lousy and would have benefit [sic] from some sharpening up.”
I agree with this next one, though he is vague as to what he means by “bias about humanitarian work.”
“There seem to be a bias about humanitarian work in general in the questions asked. The rising trend is that corporations, investment and development will solve all the problem. Good if it does but so far injustice and exploitation are growing. There are more hungry people in middle income Countries than in Low Income Countries. Therefore wealth does not solve all problems, injustice remains and more has to be done about it.”
A few stressed an issue with the conflation of “humanitarian aid work” versus development activities, none better stated that this:
“I am concerned about your use of language. To me ‘humanitarian aid work’ is a subset of the aid agenda (which deals with humanitarian crises – droughts, famines, etc.). While I have done ‘humanitarian’ work before. My country position is almost exclusively ‘development’ whereby I word with countries to implement systems and change aimed at improving the well being of people over the long term…” -36-40yo female expat aid worker
Concluding thoughts on the sector
“Related to the questions about explaining the job to people outside the industry, what is nearly impossible to explain is your personal emotional and intellectual response to new situations or the general seriousness of the situations faced: you experience completely new feelings that cause completely unexpected understandings of the world that are very difficult to really completely explain to non-aid workers.” –41-45yo male expat aid worker
Knowing that others hear and, better yet, share or at least can understand feelings and perceptions about the live to which you have devoted yourself is meaningful psychologically. The respondent quoted above -and all of the many hundreds in the preceding chapters- have now had their voices heard and shared. I for one will count that as a net positive toward the goal of creating a more just world for all.
My hope is that in this book I have accomplished the modest goal of effectively presenting and making sense of the aid worker voices that were gifted to me by those who took the time to take our survey. Countless person-hours were spent by 1010 self-identified “aid workers ” finding on line and then choosing to complete our survey. Many wrote narrative answers to all of the open-ended questions, sometimes pouring out their hearts and sharing intimate thoughts. My driving logic as I went through the responses was to with fidelity present a summary of all that was said, the good, the bad and the ungrammatical.
My commentary and analysis was just that, analysis of what I heard in all those voices and my modest attempt to use a sociological framework to make sense of it all. That, and a bit of commentary from my perch on the margins of development work, though having been exposed to this kind of work for the last 25 years and directing an academic program engaged in development work and, beginning in 2015, using the Core Humanitarian Standards as part of our syllabi.
Though respondent opinions and observations at times clashed and contradicted, in one sense you can describe this book as an effort to employ crowdsourcing to understand the aid sector. Certainly no one would expect all opinions to be the same since the respondents were diverse in age, gender, racial/ethnic/cultural identity, experiences, and place of employment. But given the depth of thought many put into their responses, taken as a whole I believe that what has been presented captures a great deal of truth about the sector.
And, one more time, a massive THANK YOU to all who participated.
Next steps
“Aid work is part of the wider economic ecosystem. I think we are not really better or worse than anyone else – just a different organ in the body of humanity.” –36-40yo female HQ worker
I have no doubt that those represented in this book are mostly expat aid workers from the global north. Perhaps a more accurate title might have been “Expat aid worker voices.” Fair enough. That said, this book should be best viewed as an exploratory beginning, one that raises some questions and that can light the path for similar work.
Next steps include inviting everyone who reads this book to remain in the conversation and to encourage others to joint. To be heard is to be acknowledged and affirmed, and it is my belief that as the sector gets to know itself better -and the larger social ecosystem of which it is a part- it will be more whole and humane.
Please contact me if you have any thoughts, feedback or parting shots.
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
“Ultimately it’s a culture change, not just a policy change.”
–Lucy, founder of AidMamas.org
Aid workers as parents
How does thatwork?
A small but significant subset within our survey population -21%- were aid workers who have one or more children. Being an aid worker can be a complex, demanding and all-comsuming occupation. The fact that many aid workers are also parents -a complex, demanding and all-comsuming job- brings up many questions. Here are just a few.
In a sector characterized by international travel and frequent deployments how can an aid worker be
a parent?
How does the parenting role differ between males and females, and what are the problems unique to each and those that are common to both?
More generally, how do aid workers deal with their part in the family ecosystem of which they are enmeshed either by choice or necessity?
What are the leave policies of the big box aid organizations and smaller NGO’s and how can the maternity/paternity leave policies of these organizations become more progressive?
All big questions, these.
To get deeper insight into how to address these questions (and more) I was fortunate to talk with the founder of a new but rapidly growing group called “AidMamas.” Some members meet in person, in Google hangouts, on Facebook and most recently members have begun blogging. Topics of conversation tend to focus on the struggles of juggling the role of parent with that of aid worker. Though most members are women, men are welcomed to the group and help serve to expand the conversation to family life in general.
The founder, Lucy, is a young mother, now more on the edges development work. She has embraced the challenge of bringing together -at least virtually- other men and women like herself and facilitating ‘frank and full conversation about being a parent and working in the international aid and development sector.’
What follows are anecdotes and observations from our conversations.
Maternity/paternity leave policies This is not the proper place to call out any specific ‘big box’ aid or development organization, but I think that a safe generalization to make is maternity and paternity leave policies are overall very weak throughout the sector. One young female aid worker put a harsh point on the situation.
“You have a choice: come back to work after 3-6 weeks of unpaid leave practically still bleeding post childbirth, find someone to watch your poor infant who is still physically attached to you, or lose your job.”
The irony of this statement is even more rich when you know that this particular development worker is the primary bread winner in her family -in development terms a female headed household– going back in the field.
Lucy points out that, “If you examine the parental leave policies of many organisations, paternity leave (if it exists at all) still lags woefully far behind maternity leave (if it exists at all). Maternity leave that is long enough to both enable women to maintain job security and adequately provide that early nutrition source that the sector so strongly supports for beneficiaries without demanding acrobatic feats of logistical planning and awkward office encounters, is rare. Support transitioning back to work is patchy at best across the sector.”
In a more perfect world where the best interests of both children and the family were made top priority, the option of both maternity and/or paternity leave would be standard and provisions for at least 6 months of breast feeding not only provided but aggressively encouraged. What is keeping the sector -and the West in general and the US more specifically- from this model is the steamroller which is capitalism. The pervasive logic is ‘no work, no pay’, simple as that.
But perhaps this logic is flawed.
When women make the choice not to come back to work immediately -or in many cases not at all- because of childcare issues, their practical experience and institutional memory is lost; the human capital and expertise that is wasted by losing these women is considerable. Think of it this way: much like setting fire to a warehouse full of blankets or food losing these women is a waste of valuable human resources. The questions about the overall values in the sector and who determines those values is in play here in a very important way. The management of human resources within the sector is critical; this is not ‘just a women’s issue’ but rather impacts the efficacy of the entire sector.
Can you be a parent and an aid worker? Yes, but this role juggling feat could be made whole lot easier with more progressive sector-wide policies.
Is cred gendered?
In terms of self concept, many aid workers endure what might be called the ” imposter syndrome.” Are those who work in aid more ‘legit’ than those doing development work? Does working in a conflict zone give you a more respected seat at the table? To the point of this post, can an aid worker who is also an active parent -a breast feeding mom, for example- ever compare with a single male (or female) who can jump to the front of the line for any deployment? Given that, yes, women bear children and in the best case scenario can have the support and freedom to choose to breast feed their children for an extended period the answer is yes, cred is gendered.
Yeah, so what?
Diminishing the contribution of the majority of aid workers who choose to be breeders and family members is not only counterproductive but also a textbook example of sexism. The question is how to address the situation. In Lucy’s words, “Ultimately it’s a culture change, not just a policy change.”
This is not a woman’s issue but an issue of family relationships. Most aid workers have mothers, fathers and siblings and all to a certain degree are part of a family ‘ecosystem’ that, when they are away, is compromised and must adapt. Yes, maternity leaves should be standard, but more broadly the fact that all aid workers have family lives must also be taken into account not just within HR policies but more broadly as a cultural issue.
A cultural universal
That this most basic form of role conflict has existed for parents for all of modern history all over the world is a basic anthropological fact. Beyond parenting duties, women have always worked though frequently in a seamless fashion in and around the home, close to the children. Fetching water and fire wood, tending gardens, running small entrepreneurial enterprises; these examples are played out everywhere in the world. The iteration of role conflict that groups like AidMamas is addressing is where the mother works ‘outside the home’ in a formally paid position.
Can the global culture change to being less paternalistic and more family-friendly? Not in the short run, to be sure. The efforts of the many internet-based groups bringing together like minded and situated individuals is a move in the right direction. Not to put too fine a neo-Marxist point on it but the fostering a class consciousness must proceed revolutionary changes in culture, and so the efforts of groups like AidMamas is a small through critical step in the right direction.
One small warning for these groups is to avoid the creation of a self-serving echo chamber of ideas and dialogue. Affirmation and sharing are good but is best tempered by sobriety that comes from always seeking to relate all micro-issues to the broader humanistic goal of maximizing all human potential.
Summing up the above Lucy puts it thusly:
“Take a closer look under the ‘hood’ of the sector and examine in your own organisation, how well do we support those female-headed households – both among those we’re working to assist, and among the staff? If we don’t know how to support the female-headed households among our staff, how well are we really supporting the female-headed households in local communities? We need to get it right from the inside out.”
Many thanks again to Lucy of AidMamas for sharing her insights.
The fact that our survey was not completed by the many women and men who left the sector because of the issues discussed above is ironic, and I wonder what those voices would have said. If you are one of those folks, please contact me if you would be willing to share your comments or have anything you would like to add.
Tom Arcaro is a professor of sociology at Elon University. He has been researching and studying the humanitarian aid and development ecosystem for nearly two decades and in 2016 published 'Aid Worker Voices'. He recently published his second and third books related to the humanitarians sector with 'Confronting Toxic Othering' published in 2021 and 'Dispatches from the Margins of the Humanitarian Sector' in 2022. A revised second edition of 'Confronting Toxic Othering' is now available from Kendall Hunt Publishers
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