Kate - On the Job

I work at the Lawyer’s Committee for Civil Rights, a non-profit law firm that offers free legal assistance in civil matters and litigates cases surrounding issues of race, class, and immigration. In the JVC application process, I applied for jobs very different from experiences I had already had, which is how I ended up with an office job in legal work as my first choice. I am much more of a direct services oriented person, but I am fascinated by law, and, while I do not see it as my career path, I do feel that it is an essential tool to social justice.

I also found it very hard to actually imagine the work you will be doing, day in and day out, based on the one paragraph descriptions you are given when choosing a job. I was explaining this frustration to my dad (why can’t we know more about the jobs that are about to determine a year of our lives), and he said that is part of the beauty of the experience: you are dedicating yourself to a year of service, and to whatever challenges and rewards that year brings.

These have been some of my challenges thus far:

· Getting use to an office job. This may not be difficult for a lot of people, but it is hard for me to sit still, so I frequently have to walk before, during, and after work to get rid of excess energy.

· Phone Connections. A lot of my interaction with people is on the phone, which is different than what I am used to. I sometimes feel as though I would prefer more direct one-on-one contact with clients because that is more emotionally draining and I want to be challenged. The lack of that contact is just due to the nature of the job. It is also good to realize all the non-direct work that needs to go on in order for direct services to be possible.

· Realizing sometimes you just can’t help, nor can you change systems that are unjust overnight. I have heard a multitude of life stories that echo this point, but there is not the space to write about them.

And these are some of the rewards:

· Personal Education. I feel as though I have learned so much about law and the challenges faced by people who are not listened to in society. Also, because I am not in constant contact with clients I have both the time and energy to really listen to their problems and sometimes I think listening is in itself a service.

· Great Supervision. By this I mean I was set-up to be successful, but at the same time, nobody is micro-managing, so I feel ownership in my work. Early on I mentioned my desire for more direct service to my supervisor, and was immediately given a list of projects I could work on that fit my needs. I feel as though my agency has gone out of their way to make sure I am happy here.

· The people I work with. Every single person in my office (18 staff) continually amazes me with their commitment to a better world, their humbleness, their work ethic, their ability to be light-hearted and yet still really care, and so much more. The first day I was told, “We’re like one big family here” and it really feels that way. Even though I am new here and here only for a year, people treat me as if I know just as much as anybody else (even though I don’t). I feel very lucky and grateful to work with such phenomenal people.

Learn more about Kate here.

Dermot - Looking back on year 1

Walking down Avenida Bolognesi, Tacna´s main drag, you almost forget you are in Latin America. You can buy ice cream, read the newspaper, and embrace a modern, internet-connected Peru. Less than three miles from the center, however, the street lights and paved roads disappear and the estera (cane) huts prevail, until you find yourself in the midst of some of the worst poverty in the country, in a neighborhood called Viñani.

When I think of the “third world,” I think of Viñani. I know that Peru is “developing” and that the term “third world” is offensive; but one trip to Viñani makes you realize the absurdity of maintaining a quixotic and semantic focus on the euphemisms we use to describe an impoverished existence that is so unjust and difficult. Viñani crushes all politically correct thoughts about poverty and “living in solidarity with the poor.” Quite frankly, the place feels other-worldly. I have trouble identifying with the people. Nothing will allow me to free myself from the privilege I feel over them and the distance I feel from them. I am most gringo when I spend time in Viñani.

Every time I visit the place, I want to curse. I resort to vulgarity not only because of my indignation at the injustice of the situation, but—more importantly—because I am presented with a frustrating problem that is so damn mind-boggling to solve. At Harvard’s commencement last year, Bill Gates said, “The barrier to change is not too little caring; it is too much complexity. To turn caring into action, we need to see a problem, see a solution, and see the impact. But complexity blocks all three steps.”

I can now identify with Gates on how complexity thwarts progress on poverty, as I feel overwhelmed by the challenges of confronting it and will protect myself with something that feels like indifference. When I am not indifferent, I feel that I can only apply small bandages on a gaping wound. I am completely uncertain if I am actually helping anyone when I visit those I have befriended out there.

On second thought, the last paragraph also explains many of the problems with “Western” philanthropy in Viñani. Did you notice what I did? Look at how this do-gooder JV described his relationship with the poor. I offered vague terms to describe the “desperate masses.” I rightly expressed my frustration and indignation, but incorrectly presumed that I am helpful in applying the “small bandages” that I can offer, or that I have sufficient experience to “solve the problem of poverty.”

I also set up a nasty relationship with the “poor,” in treating them as nothing more than passive repositories of my charity. I am the doctor; they are the patient. I know what they need and I will provide it. JVI challenges us to examine these unjust dichotomies that we can often create in our interactions with the poor.

On my Reo/Diso this past month, I read a speech by the radical Catholic priest Ivan Illich, who notes that “the road to hell is paved with the good intentions” often carried out by North American volunteers serving abroad. In a brusque and often cynical form, Illich goes on to indict my work, writing to a departing class of volunteers to Mexico, “You are ultimately-consciously or unconsciously- ´salesmen´ for a delusive ballet in the ideas of democracy, equal opportunity and free enterprise among people who haven't the possibility of profiting from these.” Illich goes on to condemn the very existence of organizations like JVI, which send volunteers into “developing countries,” as we will only experience a very damaging false solidarity with the poor whom we are purportedly “serving.”

Illich would have me pack my bags and return to the US tomorrow. Moreover, his strident indictment will serve as a constant reminder to me in my second year, of the dangers endemic to acting with self-righteousness as a JV. For better or worse, though, I am still in Peru. You call me a hypocrite or a seductive salesman of corrupt Western values. I will explain in my next entry why I do not believe this to be the case, yet will definitely give Illich his due, given the infernal pain I have seen “well-intentioned” NGOs cause at an orphanage here in Tacna.

Learn more about Dermot here.