Why bother? Advocacy and (no) change in our current times.

Same same

For the past twenty years, I have considered myself an advocate for change. I have advocated from “the outside” for decision-makers and funders to change policies and financing priorities, and have worked on “the inside” in government and funding institutions, trying to shift things from within. My advocacy has been driven by a deep anger at the injustices and inequities in our world, but also by the shocking inefficiencies and ineffectiveness I have seen in our sector.

During these decades, I have not been afraid to speak out or walk away to where I feel I can have more impact. I often think of what a former boss of mine, and former Global Financing Facility (GFF) Director, Mariam Claeson once said about evaluating our own success. Our role is to leave systems and the most vulnerable people’s lives in a stronger place than when we began our work. At the time, heading GFF’s external relations, I was part of a small group of leadership staff who tried to push for an emphasis on that word “leave” by self-committing to having a one-off replenishment – to avoid becoming yet another institution of dependency for countries that fundraises and tries to grow in perpetuum. I’ve in my work since also tried to focus on impact. So much of what our sector does is in my extensive experience meaningless process, leading to little if no change.

Since October 7, and possibly since the COVID-19 pandemic, my advocacy and anger have deflated. I feel like a balloon that has little left to give – even in my blogs. Advocating for change feels meaningless, when companies and institutions that were part of the inequity problem during the pandemic continue to be celebrated and reap scarce funds. Advocating for change feels pointless, when most decision-makers and large segments of value-based organizations’ staff remain silent when basic human rights are rolled back, and entire population groups are being dehumanized or called “animals”. I have no anger left. I’m just disillusioned and sad. Yet is silence even an ethical option in these current times?

I’ve spoken about how I feel with many colleagues and friends. Kind as they are, they encourage me to keep writing. Other colleagues probably couldn’t care less – they probably find these blogs pointless and irrelevant – maybe they are. My aim was never to transform the world through blogs; rather, this was a way for me to organize my thoughts, and break a few taboos so that people wondering similar things feel less alone.

I’ve over the past years pulled the emergency breaks on many things I have been doing. At this point in my career and stage in my life, I’m unwilling to rat-race my way through my work, without reflecting on whether anything real changes as an effect. If my efforts are not leaving systems and the most vulnerable people in a better place than when I started, what am I doing, other than being paid lots of tax dollars that are direly needed elsewhere?

Silence is not an option for me. Yet advocating for change when nothing changes isn’t either.