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A fellow human rights defender said to me some time back, “You don’t just need conviction to work in human rights; you need to be super-human, as well.”
They were lamenting the many sides of the job they had to do: conducting research, writing reports, training, filling out expense forms, and presenting work to potential donors. But it was also just the absurd number of meetings they had to attend, internally with colleagues and externally with partner organizations.
I may agree about the number of meetings, but I don’t think you have to be super-human to work in human rights. In fact, I think that’s a rather dangerous notion.
People working in human rights push themselves hard, sometimes too hard. And whether out of guilt or inspiration or a sense of responsibility, some folks sometimes maybe act like they think they can be super-human.
Then they burn out.
Of course, we all recognize the dangers with field work, when people are face to face with mass atrocity crimes in particular. I’ve seen people come out of the field in shock at the horrors they witnessed or learned about from victims and survivors, and it’s eroded their faith in humanity.
There’s no real getting used it either, nor should there be. Even those who have experienced it before have difficulty processing it all. Some turn to the bottle or other self-destructive behaviors. Others, rightly realizing they’re not super-human, seek therapy, which sensible employers help provide.
At this point, too, we all know it’s not just those who have first-hand experiences on the ground who need support from time to time. Those who deal with the images and the issues even secondarily can suffer trauma and depression.
What we’ve seen – whether first-hand or second – drives us to help the victims and survivors, help make the suffering stop, help achieve justice for and with them. That’s all fine, of course, that’s the work. Even a bit of obsession is no bad thing. Those of us who’ve been around the block a few times understand it’ll never be a 9-to-5 job.
But a little more 9-to-5 thinking doesn’t hurt.
I don’t exactly work 9-to-5 – maybe more like 7-to-7 – but when I’m off, I’m off. In the evenings and at the weekends, I avoid work-related screens and turn my phone to “do not disturb.” I try not to watch any TV that’s “too much like the day job.” The books I read are almost always about things far removed from today’s human rights issues.
I also take my holidays, and when I do, I shut off completely: no email, no social media, no work calls. I even refuse to look at the news.
I have an old friend who’s appalled at this. “How can you just abandon everything like that?”, he asks. “You have a responsibility, especially with all your Twitter followers… You’re an influencer, you should be using that platform every minute you can to help people.”
After first reminding him of my relative insignificance – I mean, seriously, do people still think the number of Twitter followers someone has is important? – I explain to him how, even if I do have some limited reach, it doesn’t do anyone any good if I work 24/7 and end up in a hospital.
I know my limits, and I encourage colleagues to accept theirs, too.
I insist on my staff taking their vacations. I’m pretty sure I’ve never said no to a holiday request, and certainly never to an “I need a few days off” after some particularly stressful time. I’ve never seen any of my bosses do so either.
If someone on my team contacts me about something work-related outside of office hours, I remind them not to. I tell them to stop working, to down tools, to turn off and enjoy life.
Human rights work may be perceived as a kind of calling, and yes, there’s a reason we more often call it a “movement” than a “sector.” But I think, in the past, there may have been a certain messianic attitude attached to it that’s dreadfully unhelpful for those of us working in it.
We’re not here to save the world, only to try to improve what we can. And it’s not all on one person’s shoulders. We work as a team. You take time off. I take time off.
I’m lucky to work with a set of managers who understand all this. Most of us who’ve been at this a while have, at one time or another and most likely on multiple occasions, seen what happens when a colleague pushes themselves too far.
You may or may not think human rights work is a “calling,” but in any case, it is a job. It’s not your whole life.
What do you think? I know a number of readers here are working in human rights, and I’d love to hear from you on this issue. Please send me your thoughts and reflections via email, Twitter, Mastodon, LinkedIn, or Bluesky.
