On Service, Burnout, Guilt, and Permission

Several widely-read posts and articles have circulated recently about “the problem with little white girls and boys,” or “why volunteerism is counter-productive,” or “why you should think twice” before serving with a nonprofit.  These pieces echo others from the past few years which argue that many well-intentioned service efforts do more harm than good, and ultimately don’t result in the sort of personal fulfillment their implementers desire.

Anyone involved with a nonprofit organization or advocacy effort can identify with these feelings. Service is tiring, and often frustrating. Working with other flawed human beings with varying talents, convictions, and opinions is not always fun, even when it’s in a noble pursuit. I’ve certainly felt burnout. Who hasn’t felt frustration with their church, or their charity board, or their neighborhood committee? And who hasn’t doubted the value of his or her contributions?

Who hasn’t felt like giving up for a while? Or for good?

Here’s the real problem, with girls and boys and the rest of us in 21st-Century America: Much like the economic philosophy that took over U.S. politics in the 1980’s and has dominated it ever since, these works seek to justify selfishness by telling people that not only is it permissible to stop thinking of the welfare of others and focus solely on one’s own comfort and desires, but that it is actually morally superior to do so. Rationalizations for this outlook sometimes include cherry-picked scripture, quoted out of context and questionably interpreted, or isolated examples of aspiring do-gooders allegedly harming the intended recipients of their generosity. Sometimes, most maliciously, we are told those recipients are undeserving of help at all. They are morally responsible for their own condition.

Now in fairness, this isn’t a universal perspective or motivation among these authors. Most of them care, and recognize a call to make some sort of difference. But they’re tired and frustrated. And perhaps jealous of peers who have focused on themselves while the authors were out saving the world, and who sometimes seem happier for it. They simply want to stop, and not to feel bad for doing so.  

So what these pieces are truly doing is seeking permission. To be selfish. To stop serving. To relax and enjoy privilege, and to stop fretting over the plight of others, because honestly, these issues are so big, what help was I going to be, anyway? I’d probably do more harm than anything. And besides, did you know that some of these problems are actually CAUSED by people trying to address them? Please, please, please tell me I’m not a bad person for stepping away from my ethical responsibilities to my fellow human beings. Tell me I’m a great person, an even better person than those who are donating time and doing the hard work and sacrificing. Again, an unfair extrapolation, but one that shows how easily we can slip into self-justification.

Actually, the fact that they feel the need to beg this moral absolution speaks highly of them—it places them in a category above those who have never given a second thought to their comfortable stations or the less fortunate circumstances of others. It shows guilt, which only good people can feel.

And it illustrates an underlying hypocrisy within us all. We want to be good people, and be known as such. But we also want, sometimes, to take a break, and not think about the Really Sad Stuff. To have an extra helping and feel fine about it, even though we know in the back of our minds that some didn’t have a first. We want to take but not be called greedy. To serve ourselves, unconcerned with others, without those others thinking us immoral.

So what to do? There are problems in this world and people suffering. There are causes that are worthy and necessary. And those of us who feel that special twinge know it’s our responsibility to get involved. But it’s exhausting. And it can’t be healthy to live with that kind of guilt and stress all the time. We need to serve. But we need a break.

The answer, I think, is conditional permission. We need to reject the false choice between serving the needy and nurturing one’s own mental and emotional health. We must grant each other, and ourselves, permission—not to abandon all service and donations, but to periodically step away from our beloved causes and refresh our minds and bodies. Doing so will not only enhance our sense of happiness and fulfillment, but will make us better-equipped and more motivated servants when we are ready to reenter the fray.