Not the individual “I’ve had it with social work and think I’ll open a bakery instead” kind of burnout (I have this thought occasionally, but I really, really don’t like waking up early. And I don’t think my customers would necessarily appreciate running political commentary. So I stay.), but the whole movement “maybe this whole social justice thing is too hard and times are tough so maybe we just can’t do this” kind of burnout.

And, truthfully, this kind scares me a lot more.

In a comment to a blog post awhile back, a colleague talked about how hard it has been to stay engaged in the political debate, since many progressives felt like it was “our” moment in 2008, and there’s a sense of whiplash in the intervening 3 years.

In some of my consulting work with nonprofit advocates, I had a very experienced lobbyist with a well-respected organization tell me that her greatest concern, looking forward, is how many of those alongside whom she has advocated are already giving up, saying that the more conservative legislature and Governor we have in Kansas today is simply more than they can stand.

And, perhaps most chilling are the conversations I’ve had with a few elected officials in our state recently, none of whom have answered my, “so, can we count on you to run again in 2012?” question with anything close to an adamant affirmation.

And I don’t blame them. Any of them.

It’s tough to spend every day advocating on what seem like lost causes, and so many of our dearest struggles seem that way these days: budgets that protect the most vulnerable, progressive civil rights legislation, adequate supports for families, equal rights for women, strong environmental standards, a solid regulatory framework for health care reform…fill in your own “lost cause”.

I wish we were winning more, too.

But the reason that I’m so concerned about these signs of movement burnout is that we will surely lose, and likely lose more ground than we even fear (and, perhaps, more than we’ve even won!), if we step away. If we wait for a better day, or someone else to take up the charge, it will likely never come.

But, lest this post turn into some inspirational poster with an odd animal photograph (is my kid’s classroom the only one to feature those?), here’s a quote from one of my all-time favorite social work advocates. Ever.

“We are all being told that we have to be pragmatic and recognize that this is not a “good” year for social issues, especially if they cost money. That implies that there may yet be a good year for social issues, if only we have patience. But no Congress has ever come to Washington vowing to make things right for the poor, the vulnerable, for workers, or for the environment. In that sense, this year is different only in degree.”

The advocate? Nancy Amidei, the woman behind the “ketchup is not a vegetable” campaign.

The year?

1982

It’s always an uphill climb, no matter who sits in the White House or even how many votes we control in Congress. Trying to vanquish injustice is like that.

And, while I don’t have the answers to how we guard against this burnout and how we collectively care for each other so that we can continue on, I’d argue that the stakes have never been higher than in the next 13 months, at least.

Our causes are no less noble for being long shots. Our clients’ and communities’ needs are no less urgent. And our roles are no less critical. And, together, we can not just hang on, but even carve out some victories.

And maybe even turn some tides.

People who go to school for social work aren’t in it for the money. They realize they’re facing a lifetime of being underpaid and overworked. But just because you’re never going to strike it rich doesn’t mean you have to carry a load of debt around with you.

Before you go
One of the most important decisions you can make when you’ve decided on your career path is where to go for your degree. This is one of those times when you have to be real with yourself. Going to a pricey private college may not be easy for you later if your parents aren’t helping you pay your loans. Admissions counselors will tell you that 99 percent of students will get financial aid. While that’s completely true, they often leave out the fact that this is only a few thousand on a $35,000 price tag.
A more affordable option is attending a state school. They tend to run at about $16,140 a year. With scholarships, they can often be brought down to about $10,080, according to a recent report. Scholarships will only knock private school tuition down to about $21,020.

If you need to work while you’re attending college, look into an online degree or a community college. Many state schools can also have more flexible schedules with night classes that will help you in your quest to do it all.

Once you’re there
Student loans can often be used for any educational expense. This can be stretched easily to include some things that you might not actually need, so it’s one of those times that we have to apply the advice we often give to others–how should we prioritize our budgets?–to our own financial decisions. Remember that you’ll have to pay this money back sooner than you’d think.

On that note, any money you take from your technical loan money should be repaid by the time you graduate. If you have loans that charge interest, pay those back immediately. For the loans that don’t accrue interest, go ahead and put the money in a savings account that you can’t access through a bank card. If you need extra help ensuring you don’t spend it, ask your parents to put their names on your account and require that you all be there to remove it.

Consider signing up for AmeriCorps if there is a program in your area (or another, similar service program). AmeriCorps is a government-funded program that allows people to give back to their community in various ways. In return for your service, you receive a living stipend. Upon completion of the program, you also receive an education award, which can be applied directly to tuition costs or loans. Depending on the amount of hours you put into the program, you could end up with a couple of thousand dollars on top of your living stipend. It’s best to do the AmeriCorps program as an internship, since it will take a considerable time commitment. Many of the projects that members can sign up for are directly related to social work and can provide valuable experience along with the much-needed money.

And now, the fun part
The fun, of course, comes from having your degree. If you’re unable to find a job right out of college, take one that you can find and continue searching hard for a job in your field (ML: again–the same advice social workers often give our clients!). With the economy the way it is, even low-paying jobs are sometimes hard-to-find. In the meantime, call your loan provider and see when you’ll need to start paying back your loans. Most have a waiting period of about six months. If you graduate in May, your first payments will begin around December. You can usually find out everything you need to know by going to their website and digging around. However, if you call you will get an opportunity to talk to real people who know your situation and can help. Memorizing the number might be the most important step you can take.

If you have trouble paying back your loans, here are some options you can take.
• Defer your loans:
Deferring your loans is the first step you should take when you lose your job or can’t make payments on a low salary. All it takes is a call to your loan provider and a short explanation of why you need a deferment. You only have a set number of these to go through though, so be sure you’re using them only when absolutely necessary.
• Extend your payback period:
If your loans exceed a certain amount, your payback period may be eligible to be extended. Remember that this will make it harder to buy a home and a new car later on down the road, since you’ll have more money already tied up in loans. The amount you currently owe back is also reflected in your credit score, so be sure to check and see how much it’s affecting you before you extend it another 5-10 years. The average loan’s standard payback period is 10 years, but can go up to 15-20 if you meet the requirements.
• Consolidate your loans:
In the funny loan world, you can have two separate loans from the same provider, both due separately. If you find this has happened to you, simply call your loan provider to ask them to be combined.
• Check the time of month:
If rent is due the same week as your student loans, most companies will allow you to switch the due date. Remember that it will take a month or so to go in effect, so don’t think you can use this to get a couple weeks of free deferment.
With all of these options available, you should be able to manage loan repayment on even the tiniest salary. Remember to also list the amount you’ve paid towards them on your taxes, as some of that money will be tax deductible. Be proactive about your loans, and you’ll be able to stay on top of them.

Does anyone else have advice to share? Recent graduates, what are you encountering in the job market, and what has worked for you? Those with longer tenures in the working world, what has this perspective taught you that you wish you’d known before?

I assume that most people are like me – they went to school to pursue their passion. I got a law degree and a masters degree in social work because my passion is, in the most general sense, changing the world for the better of all inhabitants.

I know that this is not the only reason people go to school, because we also go to school to get a job that will pay our bills, feed our families, and maybe even allow us to have a hobby. But, in the idealist twenty-something head, this is second to passion.
Upon graduation with both degrees, I got a job at a well-respected non-profit in the state. This is lucky, truly lucky, because it grew out of my second year practicum at a time when job prospects for inexperienced graduates were/are not great. I pursued administrative social work, and this position is the perfect blend of giving me a chance to practice what I want to do and giving me the experience I need to continue pursuing a successful career. It is not a “career” position, but it is an unbelievably fortunate starting point.

Shortly after I began this well-paying job, I realized how insufficient the pay really was. I couldn’t pay the bills, buy the gas, food, and pay rent. I couldn’t afford to send my children to daycare, because my husband, if he were to get a job outside the home, would only make enough to cover the costs of sending them – effectively paying to have someone else raise our children. I couldn’t afford health insurance, and there were times that we were selling our book collection by the box so that we could afford enough food and gas until the next pay day. We couldn’t go to the doctor, go visit family, buy Christmas presents. Everything was going toward staying afloat and avoiding shutoff services.

The financial strain my family was feeling began to seep into my work. I was frustrated. I was the least paid attorney there, and I worked hard. I applied for a higher position, and, although I was led to believe I was a shoo-in, I didn’t get it. I started coming in late. I was sarcastic during meetings. I spent a lot of time online.

How on earth did I not get fired? I have no idea. But I had the good fortune of having an understanding supervisor who had a serious meeting with me. My supervisor made it clear that my job was not in jeopardy before beginning to speak, but let me know that what I was doing wasn’t going unnoticed, and my job could be in jeopardy if I continued as I was. My supervisor made it clear that she knew that I had the skills and personality to do this job well, but I had to make the choice to do it with integrity. My supervisor was respectful but honest, and she gave me the decision-making power. It was truly a reflection of the work of the organization – empowerment.

I was humbled. Sometimes it takes someone on the outside who cares for us to show us what a petulant whiner we’ve become. And I was. Sure, I was struggling – I was a first year graduate, just passed the bar. I have children and a family to support. This is stressful stuff, and it hasn’t gone away. Women as breadwinners for their families have unique issues that society hasn’t even begun to address. Seeking balance is important, and sometimes it’s not immediately possible. My life was beyond balance. My focus was solely on supporting my family.

I forgot that I was also working for an organization that looks at the bigger picture and does work that I believe in. I signed up for this job as an opportunity, and I was no longer seeing it that way. I saw it as beneath me, as something I had to do because I couldn’t find something that would pay me “what I was worth.” I knew it was important work, but I had to find a way to support my family, so I only paid lip service to the mission of the organization. Almost immediately after the conversation with my supervisor, I began to change my behavior. I also continued to pursue the next step in my career.

The first three or four resumes I sent out, I would spend a lot of time fantasizing about the position, my life, paying off credit card and student loan debt, having even ten dollars in the checking account on pay day. I would think about the office, buying a house, having health insurance, fixing the car. The first three or four rejection letters I received, I was crushed. Crying, feeling like the world was against me and my family, not being present, and not giving my whole heart to the job I had again.

It was a slow and painful process, but I’ve come to a pretty good place. Nothing has changed. I don’t make more money. I don’t have an office with a window. The book collection is still dwindling. I hope that my children don’t break a bone or come down with something horrible because a financial blow like that could crumble this fragile house of cards. But I do have perspective. Nothing I was doing was making things better. It was making them worse.

I firmly believe that faith is necessary in our lives. We don’t have to be spiritual in the sense of having a religion or faith community, but we have to have faith in something – be it god, Buddhahood, the almighty dollar, personal ethics, or whatever. I have faith that I still have something to learn. I have somewhere to be, and right now it is right here, whether I’m completely at peace with that or not.

I haven’t stopped putting out resumes, and I still sometimes find myself fantasizing about some positions. I only apply for jobs that I would be passionate about, so it’s hard to refrain sometimes. But I’m here. Putting my heart into my job. Searching for the next step while remaining present where I am. I don’t know where I’ll be in one year or ten years. But, that’s no longer daunting; it’s exciting. Every rejection letter I receive makes the mystery more intriguing, because I have to tell myself that this wasn’t it, it wasn’t the perfect place for me to be. Someday that job will show up, and I will be able to move forward with dignity and integrity, because I know that I’ve worked hard, and I deserve it.

I write this not to show how wonderful I’ve become. I still have petulant days, disappointing moments, and plenty of times when I’m not as present in my work and life as I’d like. I just hope that this helps someone who may be there right now, perhaps saving them a trip to their supervisor’s office to have a humiliating conversation. Starting a career is hard, especially today when one position receives sixty applications from highly qualified, experienced people, and we are merely fledglings trying to learn to fly. May we all end up exactly where we need and want to be, and may we learn the lessons that we need to learn without too many growing pains.

In every class I teach, I find myself talking a lot about power, not just what it is and why it’s important but also why social workers often have such a negative idea about it. Because that last piece is key, I really believe; as long as social workers are so convinced that power is a bad thing, that we shouldn’t want it, and that we don’t, in fact (we promise!) have any, then there’s no way that we can do real empowerment and little chance that we can bring about the kinds of social changes that our profession, our society, and, most importantly, those we serve, really need.

Being bilingual helps me a lot when it comes to defining power. The Spanish word for the noun “power” is the same as for the verb “to be able to” (poder), so I talk with my students about how power, essentially, gives one the ability to do what it is that one wants to be able to do and, really, to make someone else do what it is that one wants that other to do. Some of the definitions I like include “the ability to recognize one’s will even against the resistance of others” (Weber, in Gerth and Mills, 1946); “possession of control, authority, or influence over others” or “ability to act or produce an effect” (Merriam Webster Dictionary); and “capacity to influence the forces which affect one’s life space for one’s own benefit” (Pinderhughes, 1987). When we start from that understanding, power doesn’t sound quite so dark.

One of my big emphases, too, is a distinction between actual power and the feeling of being powerful. As social workers, sometimes we’re so afraid of real power that we just talk in “squishy” terms about it, which can lead to so much confusion about what power is that we abandon the real thing in favor of something that just sounds good. I’ll never forget, when I was assisting in a power analysis with some Latino youth and the lead organizer asked, “who has power in your community?” One young woman answered, “we do, because we’re the future…” It was obviously something that she’d heard, maybe from a teacher or maybe from a social worker, and, while we like the way that feels, the truth is that such a misconception kept her from being fully powerful, because she couldn’t analyze who held power and what power she and her peers might hold over those power players. We do ourselves and our clients no favors when we lead them to believe that they are more powerful than they are—what they (and we) really need is the ability to analyze power relations and to engage in collective action designed to enhance individual and group power.

We talk about sources of power–character, position, reputation, knowledge, authority–and we talk especially about relationships as a source of power, because that helps us to see, as social workers, how the assumption of power (double meaning intended) is integral to the practice of social work; if we didn’t have any power with/over those with whom we work, what possible influence could we expect to have over their lives?

And then we get to the core issue, for me: social workers’ fear of power. I have to admit, I don’t totally, innately get this reluctance to admit and claim power. I often tell students that my dream job would be Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and it’s because of the authority that comes with that position. I love power for what it can enable me to do in pursuit of social justice, and I’d love a whole lot more so that I could be a whole lot more effective.

But I have to understand social workers’ fears about power to be a part of helping our profession get over them, and I think that my discussions with students and those in the field over the past several years have given me some insights. There’s a universal concern that power corrupts, because it certainly can. And there’s also a reluctance, I believe, to give up social workers’ martyrdom, this idea that our profession is noble precisely because it is relatively powerless. Many social workers also have negative experience with powerful interests opposed to their own or their clients’ well-being, and, absent more just conceptions of what power looks like, it takes on a ‘bad name’.

The reality is clients want to work with powerful workers. Power can only be shared by those who have it, so a powerless social worker cannot, by definition, practice empowering social work. Those social workers who are more powerful, both within their own organizational contexts and in the community arena, are also more successful. And that’s what we should be in this business for, after all, not the satisfaction that comes with feeling that we’re sacrificing for some futile aim. And if that doesn’t convince us to pursue power, we must recognize that abdicating our claim to power abandons the field to those who don’t share our values and aims. Power vacuums are always filled, and we can’t afford them.

So, tell me, what gives you power as a social worker? When do you feel powerful? When do you feel powerless? What are your fears about power? Where do those fears come from? How could you gain power within your organization? What would it take for you to commit yourself to that this year?

When I was pregnant with the twins, I was so exhausted that I really couldn’t move much, but I also couldn’t handle any of my normal, rather heavy reading, so I read a lot of British novels. And, much to my husband’s amusement, he soon had a very large wife who was sprinkling her speech with phrases like peevish and knackered and bollocks. They are just such appealing words!

Well, consider this Anglophile “mad keen” about what I’ve just discovered: England’s social work degree qualification, adopted in May 2002 and first implemented for the 2003-2004 academic year, requires involvement of what they call “service users” (we’d call them “clients” or “consumers”) in all aspects of social work education (which they call “training”–those crazy Brits!). Yes, ALL ASPECTS. As in, selecting candidates for social work schools, consulting on curriculum, participating in curriculum delivery, evaluating students in the classroom and the field, and design of the overall degree.

The Department of Health funds the Social Care Institute for Excellence in order to develop a national forum for service users involved in social work education, to promote best practices, and to identify barriers. SCIE’s reports are candid about the fact that there are gaps between the stated ideals and the practice. Service users and their organizations cite lack of training and support, condescending attitudes on the part of academic faculty (No!), questions of access, and concerns about stipends’ impact on benefit eligibility as some of the most vexing concerns, and SCIE and some grassroots groups in the country are working hard to try to overcome these.

Still, even acknowledging some of the limitations, this is pretty awesome.

Hey, Council on Social Work Education, we need a similar mandate for social work education in the United States. We need a strategy for how to fully integrate the perspectives of our clients into preparation of students. We need requirements that universities actively solicit clients’ involvement in deciding which students to admit, how to structure education, and who deserves to have the degree that will entitle them to so much authority over the lives of those we serve. We need resources to invest in the organizational capacity of client-driven organizations, both because of how that would prepare them to better participate in social work training, and because our profession should be doing more to invest in the capacity for self-help of those we aim to, well, help.

Individual programs around the country, are, undoubtedly, doing good work in terms of client involvement–starting community collaborations, building alliances with local social service organizations, sending dozens or even hundreds of great students out to work in practice placements–I don’t mean to discount these efforts. But we need a far greater infusion of energy and resources, and a more strategic and concerted collective effort, if we’re going to fill in the gaps, transcend tokenism, and build real partnerships with our most valuable asset–those who legitimize our profession by allowing us to work with them.

Ten years from now, I’d like to see us grappling with the problems outlined by SCIE and their service-user organization partner, Shaping Our Lives: how can we ensure that all clients have equitable access to decisionmaking authority within social work education? How can we quantify the types and magnitude of impacts that clients have on social work education? How can we build on the gains made so far in bringing clients into social work education as instructors, students, and ‘expert consultants’?

Let’s face it, the people who brought us the trifecta of the pub, gravity, and DNA have done it again–shown us the way to the people we are meant to become. I mean, what’s more “American” than the idea of empowering individuals, bringing in diverse perspectives, and highlighting the wisdom of hard-earned experience? We can do this. And we’ll be better for it, as teachers, and students, and as a profession. Thanks, Britain. We owe you one.

But we’re NOT sorry for that whole Boston tea party thing…

I don’t know how I missed this quote up to now, but it is my new mantra. (It came from, where else, but Half the Sky–have you read it yet? Go get it!)

“Reasonable people adapt themselves to the world. Unreasonable people attempt to adapt the world to themselves. Progress, therefore, depends on unreasonable people.”–George Bernard Shaw (p. 47 Half the Sky)

I’ve never been one of those “bloom where you’re planted”/Serenity Prayer types of people. Now that I am a mother, I am even more aware, through my kids, of my traits of impatience and volatility and indignation. My daughter has them, too. As an eight-month-old (very young to display this kind of fierce determination), she would point clearly at what she wanted and then literally throw herself on the ground in despair if she didn’t get it. Most vexing, yet humorous, is when she flings herself on her MUCH larger older brother, trying to wrest away whatever she has. He can pretty much shrug her off like a fly, but she clings and wheedles and then watches until he moves on and she moves in.

She’s unreasonable. And, I would argue, we all need to be a bit more like her. More like our champions of social justice throughout history, who have been downright pesky in their insistence that things go their way. Who have refused to wait in line, wait their turn, wait until things get better. Who have railed against seemingly unstoppable forces and found that they can, in fact, stop some of them, at least some of the time. Who are willing not to get along, so that others have a chance to get by.

Who are willing to be unreasonable, because they know that everything depends on it.

What are you unreasonable about? What are you committed to doing in your unreasonableness? Whose unreasonableness do you most admire? Social workers, how can you recognize your clients’ unreasonableness as a survival strategy, a strength, a gift?

In the process guide about moving from social services to an integration of service and social change work, the authors outline an excercise they call the ‘Aha! Moment’. Basically, it is an effort to raise consciousness among social service organization staff about the factors that led to their decision to work in social services/social change, in order to introduce a political education into the conversation among staff.

That has led to me thinking a lot about my own ‘Aha! Moment’, and I have concluded (I’m sure no one is terribly surprised) that there were really a few.

There was the time in first grade when we were supposed to do book reports on our biography subject and I chose Mother Theresa and then also dressed up in my mom’s nightgown with a dishtowel over my head to give my report (my Dad did try to warn me that the other kids wouldn’t likely be in costume, but I don’t like to do things halfway, you know?). That was the moment when I learned that I won’t always fit in, and, I think, when I became pretty comfortable with that.

There was the time in genetics class in high school when I realized that, while I found it intellectually stimulating, I did not want to work in a laboratory but instead wanted to connect with people. At that moment, I realized that I was a lot happier in my after school job working at a retirement center than I was sexing fruit flies. A couple of weeks later, I was in a van on my way to skiing in Colorado when I read about social work in the KU catalog and decided that was it for me.

Then, as an aspiring social worker, there was the time that I raised my hand when asked at a field education forum if anyone spoke Spanish. I realized then that what had just been an academic interest for me could be used to help people in a way that I had never before imagined, and I began to move away from working with older adults and into Latino immigrant communities.

There was the moment when a state legislator I’d been working endlessly to get as a supporter of our instate tuition bill finally turned to me and said, “OK, I’ve figured out that you all are not going away until I say yes. So, yes.” And, at that moment, I realized that my innate mixture of righteous anger, Type A obsession, and intellectual curiosity could be melded together to make me an advocacy force to be reckoned with. That was my ‘aha!’ that advocacy would be a driving passion for the rest of my life.

And, then, there was the moment, sitting in a motel room along the side of the highway in Garden City, Kansas, when my oldest son started crawling, and I had to hear about it over the phone. That was the moment when I realized that I was just missing too much, that there had to be another way, that I needed to recraft my life.

What about you? What are your ‘aha!’ moments? Are you still waiting for one? What brought you to your current work? And what makes you know that it is or is not where you need to use your talents?

Nobody wants to be called a radical anymore, right? I mean, there are whole organizations dedicated to the pursuit of ‘moderation’ in politics and in life itself, and, while you might see someone designated a ‘conservative’ or even a ‘liberal’ or ‘progressive’ in a media report, you almost never see the word radical except in a criminal context.

So what does all of this running from the word ‘radical’ mean for those of us who really feel that it best describes how we see our social work? That it, in fact, is kind of an aspiration, a difficult-to-attain but nonetheless highly desirable plane, where our social work practice would be truly transformational, revolutionary, even, in a way that would infuse hope and meaning and promise into our every interaction with clients, colleagues, and adversaries.

Social workers, it’s time we reclaimed ‘radical’. Here’s how Merriam-Webster defines ‘radical’ (note that the most commonly-understood meaning isn’t either of the first two given, and I have to laugh at the last one, because I can just imagine the ridiculous things I’ll say that will totally embarrass my kids, since I have a tendency to use the term ‘awesome’ at least fifty times a day):

RADICAL:
“1: of, relating to, or proceeding from a root: as a (1): of or growing from the root of a plant (2): growing from the base of a stem, from a rootlike stem, or from a stem that does not rise above the ground b: of, relating to, or constituting a linguistic root c: of or relating to a mathematical root d: designed to remove the root of a disease or all diseased and potentially diseased tissue
2: of or relating to the origin : fundamental
3 a: marked by a considerable departure from the usual or traditional : extreme b: tending or disposed to make extreme changes in existing views, habits, conditions, or institutions c: of, relating to, or constituting a political group associated with views, practices, and policies of extreme change d: advocating extreme measures to retain or restore a political state of affairs
4slang: excellent, cool”

Armed with that definition, then, why do I call myself a radical social worker? Because I believe that social work is at its best when it is about addressing the root causes of the problems we encounter in our practice, and helping those afflicted by such problems to see, and attack, their origins as well. We are our most noble when we are willing to stand up and fight against the institutions and social norms and embedded injustices that perpetually harm human beings. We are our most successful when we use our collective energies to find new ways of linking people to overcome their oppressions and our most inspiring when we apply our considerable wits to thinking of new ways over, around, and through the systems that constrain us.

When I was getting my MSW at Washington University, I had the amazing opportunity to take a class from David Gil, a radical social worker, professor, author, and truly incredible person who challenged a lot of what I thought I knew about social policy and fairness and the limits of the possible. I wrote a paper for his class about liberation theology and applying my faith to a practice of radical social work, and the thinking that I did for that class continues to inform much of how I define my work today. If you haven’t read any of his books, do. (Or take one of my classes, because I almost always assign something of his!)

When we practice radical social work, we act a lot like my (almost) three-year-old. We ask ‘why’ ALL THE TIME. Why does it have to be that way? Why can’t we do it? Why do you get to set the rules? Why can’t she have it? Why do you say that? Why did we start doing it this way? Why don’t we change?

And, sometimes, like my son, fed up with insufficient and unsatisfactory answers, we create our own. And so, sometimes getting to the root of problems, as definitions #1 and #2 suggest, requires a little of #3–we have to move beyond what’s considered acceptable or ‘normal’ or ‘polite’ to create new systems that are more equitable and less structurally violent. And, in so doing, we build new kinds of relationships and create a vision of social work that moves far beyond any allegation of ‘band-aid placing’. We find that defying convention and thumbing our noses at the naysayers is quite freeing and, once you move past the fear, pretty fun. And, honestly, that’s pretty radical. As in definition #4. Claim it.

Jane's on the right!

No human being is faultless, and I think it’s worth reminding ourselves of that frequently, less we be tempted to idolize mere mortals and, in the process, let our analytical powers go lax. Still, I was struck in reviewing some of these quotes from Jane Addams by just how much they speak to me, as a woman, a social worker, and an advocate for social justice. I’ll spare everyone the history of Jane Addams–Hull House, the Nobel Peace Prize, the leadership on women’s rights and children’s issues, the establishment of the ‘social justice arm’, so to speak, of our profession of social work. Instead of a history lesson, today, I want to reflect on these words that have been swirling in my head, and what they made me think of from my own social work journeys.

• Nothing could be worse than the fear that one had given up too soon, and left one unexpended effort that might have saved the world.
ML–Okay, so this kind of makes me not want to go to sleep. Ever. Taking a deep breath, though, I reflect that this is really what has pushed me to do a lot of my advocacy work–really, in my head, I know that this press conference or that lobbying visit or this speech is not going to change the world, but, in my heart, there’s a little part that wonders, ‘maybe?’ Please, don’t take this quote as an admonition from our founding mother not to ever take a break; instead, let it give you hope that this next hurdle just might be…it.

• The good we secure for ourselves is precarious and uncertain until it is secured for all of us and incorporated into our common life.
ML–This is on the header for this site; many people have said something similar, but I still think it’s worth repeating over and over again. So often, especially for me now, with so much of my energy focused on my kids, it’s easy to get caught up in getting what we can for ourselves instead of remembering that it is that which binds us together that produces our real security and comfort.

• Unless our conception of patriotism is progressive, it cannot hope to embody the real affection and the real interest of the nation.
ML–Has there ever been a more appropriate time for this particular expression? After years of hearing that loving your country meant loving everything your government does (or at least being quiet about it), we saw a presidential candidate who dared to say that change and dissent and even agitation were valid ways to express real patriotism, and the result was record voter turnout, our nation’s first African-American President, a return of Democratic control, and a resurgence of interest in all things political. Jane would be proud, I think.

• Action indeed is the sole medium of expression for ethics.
ML–Social workers, listen up. Jane is reminding us that what we say has little to no ethical relevance; it’s how we live and practice that really speak to the kind of social workers we are, and that really gives meaning to our collective professional conscience. Daunting, yes, but ethically imperative.

• Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we often might win, by fearing to attempt.
ML–I think of this every time that someone tells me, “I could never speak in public,” “I don’t have time to lobby,” “I’m intimidated by Congress,” or a variety of other roadblocks constructed to keep people who could make a major impact on policymaking away from the exercise of this power. We are, really, our own worst enemies sometimes, although Jane said it better than that.

• Private beneficence is totally inadequate to deal with the vast numbers of the city’s disinherited.
ML–Um, true in her time and even more true today. Privatization cannot cure all of our ills, and charity is no substitute for well-funded, well-run government-provision of services to those that private charity most often leaves behind.

• Social advance depends as much upon the process through which it is secured as upon the result itself.
ML–This says quite eloquently what I’ve lumbered around trying to say in class for the past few years; there is a difference between social work advocacy/organizing and that conducted by other professionals. Our commitment to empowerment, ethical orientation that rules out unacceptable means, and strengths perspective, taken collectively, should ensure that the way in which we undertake advocacy and organizing is, in real ways, qualitatively different than the processes pursued by those coming from different perspectives.

• I do not believe that women are better than men. We have not wrecked railroads, nor corrupted legislature, nor done many unholy things that men have done; but then we must remember that we have not had the chance.
ML–This one made me laugh outloud and, of course, I immediately thought of the women, in today’s society, who have done just those things! Here, Jane was working hard to keep women off of the pedestal which marginalized us, just as we must do whenever we work with comparatively powerless populations. Only people who are considered real and complex and far from harmless are given seats at the tables of power, and that’s precisely where we want to be.

• The excellent becomes the permanent.
ML–And the powerful becomes the inevitable.

ML–These last two are pretty long, but I like the first one because it gives me some new thinking on how to integrate my own faith into my understanding of the pursuit of social justice and the second one because she found a way to defend and exalt socialism without ever saying as much, which I find quite clever.

• That Christianity has to be revealed and embodied in the line of social progress is a corollary to the simple proposition, that man’s action is found in his social relationships in the way in which he connects with his fellows; that his motives for action are the zeal and affection with which he regards his fellows. By this simple process was created a deep enthusiasm for humanity; which regarded man as at once the organ and the object of revelation; and by this process came about the wonderful fellowship, the true democracy of the early Church, that so captivates the imagination…. The spectacle of the Christians loving all men was the most astounding Rome had ever seen.

• It is always easy to make all philosophy point one particular moral and all history adorn one particular tale; but I may be forgiven the reminder that the best speculative philosophy sets forth the solidarity of the human race; that the highest moralists have taught that without the advance and improvement of the whole, no man can hope for any lasting improvement in his own moral or material individual condition; and that the subjective necessity for Social Settlements is therefore identical with that necessity, which urges us on toward social and individual salvation.

Do you have a favorite quote, Jane or otherwise, to which you turn for inspiration? Do you have alternate analyses of any of the above? Who is your favorite social work hero?

“It is of serious interest to the country that the people at large should have no lobby and be voiceless in these matters, while great bodies of astute men seek to create an artificial opinion, and to overcome the interests of the public for their private profit. It is thoroughly worth the while of the people of this country to take knowledge of this matter. Only public opinion can check and destroy it.”

Serious stuff, hunh? Undoubtedly related to the Jack Abramoff scandal and the recent outrage over the influence of “special interests”?

Or maybe President Obama, speaking about his Administration’s policy to bar lobbyists from working in his White House (which, then, of course, immediately included some exceptions, in the realization that, for example, crafting immigration policy without the insight of Cecilia Muñoz, former lobbyist for National Council of La Raza, would be a bit unnecessarily difficult)?

Or, try, Woodrow Wilson, May 1913, speaking almost 100 years ago about an issue that, certainly, has not abated from the public agenda in the intervening century.

But, as I’ve written at some points in the past, this is something I’m conflicted about.

I mean, to me, the real problem isn’t the influence of lobbyists, who, in many cases, are knowledgeable professionals who play an integral role guiding elected officials through the myriad of complex policy issues on which they must decide (would anyone like to see what policy 90+ new Missouri legislators would come up with this year without someone around who has been there for more than a month?).

The real problem is the oppressive, and distorting, power of money, and the fact that some lobbyists have disproportionate authority not so much because of their own influence but because of the moneyed movers and shakers they represent.

And, so, that’s why I always get nervous with this “anti-lobbyist” talk.

I mean, I called myself a lobbyist for many years, was a registered lobbyist, and believe(d) very strongly that my lobbying was the best way for me to serve my clients, and, indeed, my country. I absolutely influenced legislation, and legislators, and convinced people to take stands that they would not have taken without my efforts. I changed votes, on multiple occasions, and I used every tool I could think of to do so.

Does that make me part of the creation of an “artificial opinion”? Was I distorting the process? Or, in fact, are we misplacing our angers when we take aim at lobbyists instead of those who sometimes hire them? Why do we decry the yeoman’s work of those who monitor legislation, provide counsel to confused or conflicted policymakers, and interpret the policy process for lay men and women in their home constituencies, rather than focus our energies on the campaign finance system that allows vested interests to buy their lobbyists greater access and control?

I know that those who talk about “special interests” don’t necessarily mean low-income communities with nonprofit lobbyist representation. I certainly never had campaign contributions (or free tickets to anything) to throw around. I usually bummed a Diet Coke from a state senator friend of mine. But I did try everything I could, and worked long and hard, to change the outcomes in the legislature, and I was focused on the relatively narrow interests of my target constituency when I did that (believing, of course, that the polity as a whole would benefit, but I bet some of the corporate lobbyists would say that, too!).

That makes me a lobbyist.

But it doesn’t make me ashamed.