The New Volunteerism

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A recent post on a colleague's blog got me thinking again about what it means to be a volunteer these days; and how we define the word "community," too. The world is changing, and we are perhaps failing to recognize the profound impact we have on our neighborhood, town, city, country, or even the globe from our desktop PC, laptop, tablet, or phone. Must we show up in person, or donate money, to be considered valued contributors to various causes? I believe the answer is no.

Consider in-person activities. You get the exhilaration of achieving, or at least working toward, a common goal when you volunteer with others at an event or location. Not everyone enjoys such gatherings, though, and in fact many people sympathetic to a cause may be far too shy or anxious to expose themselves to the excitement and pressure inherent in fund-raising and other events. Further, they may feel inept. You may not be playing to the personality strengths of many of the most fervent people involved in a cause. Lastly, interaction with others at group events tends to be very brief, and shallow.

The internet, and social media even more so, allows even greater participation in communities, however you define them, because even those who do not venture out into crowds can still be volunteers, and may be even better at recruiting others to a given cause or charitable organization. They might be better at researching an issue, and providing links to articles and experts that solidify arguments for an issue. These unseen, nearly anonymous volunteers may also be gifted, like my friend's late friend, at pairing certain talented individuals with organizations desperate for the skills those people offer.

Here is another point. Often the best kind of volunteering has nothing to do with a non-profit, political, or social organization at all. I, myself, volunteer at AllExperts.com as an authority in the entomology category. I address questions from the public without representing a company, industry, university, or any entity besides myself. This gives me freedom that would be impossible if I were bound by the rules and expectations of an organization. I am free to speak against the use of insecticides to treat pests. I am even free to espouse my own philosophy that there is no such thing as a "pest." I was successful enough to be honored as one of the top fifty (50) experts in all categories for the year 2009.

There may be no substitute for a one-on-one exchange between a volunteer and a recipient of services, and the relative anonymity of the online world helps immensely in allowing for those relationships. Sure, it is not without its pitfalls, but one quickly learns who they can trust, who they enjoy dealing with the most, and conversely who is unreliable or has poor "netiquette."

Another aspect of the online community is that it is global. There are no geopolitical boundaries, and we have the freedom to exchange ideas across borders without a passport, or other official permission. We can engage in unfettered dialogue, or seek out moderated forums, whichever we feel most comfortable with. We teach and, more importantly, learn, daily. The odd flame war, as discussions that degenerate into angry name-calling are known, is a small price that we can usually tolerate in exchange for helpful conversations.

One way in which the internet lags behind traditional volunteerism is in the art of recognizing volunteers. You don't get a t-shirt, coffee mug, or any other tangible reward for your online service, no matter how many hours you put in, or how many people you serve. Surely we can overcome that challenge, though rarely have I seen any online volunteer's enthusiasm diminish in spite of being unrecognized. People who love what they do, and love the way they do what they do, are not easily derailed from continuing their quest to make the world a better place in one way or another.

The Downside of "Citizen Science"

I realize that what I am about to write will probably offend even some of my most loyal followers, but it needs to be said. Natural history museums, zoos, nature centers, parks, and other public and private institutions have come to rely too heavily on volunteers to accomplish their missions, especially in management of specimen collections.

Case in point: Today one of my Facebook friends posted this recruiting announcement. I was all excited until I saw it was for volunteers. Do you really want non-professionals handling specimens? The time and expense to properly train them really outweighs hiring a professional? You can’t contract for this kind of work?

Those institutions that do offer paying opportunities sometimes have unrealistic expectations, desiring PhD- or Masters-level candidates when a Bachelor’s degree, or even experience in lieu of a degree, would be more than enough to execute the requirements of the position. Increasingly, work in collections management in particular has become grant-dependent, for a limited amount of time, and still heavily reliant on volunteers being managed by the person hired for the project. This only serves to set up a destructive cycle of neglect of collections followed by salvaging of specimens years later, followed by another period of neglect and so on.

I freely admit that I take all of this as a personal insult to my previous professional experience and current abilities to work in a museum setting and advance the goals of whatever department I’m working in. I don’t think I am necessarily “better” than any other person in this field, but I certainly have better qualifications than a volunteer or docent off the street. Museums deserve better than that as well. I don’t need to make a fortune, either, but I need to be able to pay the rent, afford health care if I need it, pay for my own continuing education, and save for increasingly frequent stretches of unemployment when I don’t have any income.

That leads to another point I believe is not being considered: The failure of investments that retirees were counting on for income has left them looking for paying work as well. The volunteer pool will be steadily shrinking in coming decades. Better to address this now, and reward good work with a paycheck instead of just a pat on the back or a plaque.

The continuing devaluation of professional personnel in the natural sciences, from museum collections to field work and public education must cease. We owe it to current generations, as well as future generations, to deliver the high quality services that only experienced professionals can provide. Could it be that the trend toward “anti-scientifism” is one result of such a heavy reliance on non-scientists to do scientific work and deliver science education? I’m just sayin’.

Giving Blood

I gave blood yesterday at the local Red Cross. I try to make a habit of it, but still find it an irregular exercise in samaritanship. Not enough folks donate, though, and my blood type is highly coveted, so I do what I can. Maybe people don’t know what to expect when donating, and so they are fearful? Allow me to share my own history of experiences and allay any trepidation.

Like most guys, I like to think of myself as fairly tough and at least somewhat pain-tolerant. Fear of fainting or otherwise appearing weak and fragile kept me from donating until I was in my thirties. I was on a temporary job assignment when a couple women co-workers asked if I’d like to go with them to donate blood. I decided I might as well give it a try. They told me that as long as you eat a good healthy meal beforehand, you are not likely to even become light-headed. True enough.

I don’t have a fear of needles, but you do get put through the ringer before you even get to that point. Every time you donate you face a battery of tests including blood pressure, body temperature and, ironically, a prick to your finger to get blood for testing your level of iron. Too low in iron and you can’t donate. The most daunting of all, though, is the litany of questions you must answer.

I suspect that one reason women might not donate is because you have to admit you are over 110 pounds, the minimum weight for female donors. Men face even more ego-deflating questions after “Do you feel well today?” I sometimes find myself reduced to tears when I answer “no” to questions involving my international travel history (non-existent) and, worst of all, my sex life (or lack thereof). I don’t participate in risky behavior with drug addicts, prostitutes, or other men, here at home or abroad; and I don’t sport any tattoos or body piercings (with no plans to be incarcerated, either). How boring am I?

Once it is determined that you really are a mouse and not a man, you are ushered to the room where they do the actual blood-letting, er, taking. You get to recline in a comfy chair, and then recite your name, address, and social security number for the umpteenth time. A technician swabs your arm with iodine (provided you assured the staff you are not allergic to that substance), and an effort is then made to find a vein in the crook of your elbow. That reminds me to do more arm curls at the gym….

Eventually you are encouraged to “look away,” if you need to, so as not to see the medical equivalent of a sewer pipe headed your way. I’m kidding, of course, it really isn’t that bad (or that big). I feel more pain from the stupid finger prick for the iron test. After the insertion of the needle there is little left to do besides gently roll a toy ball in your hand to keep the juices flowing.

When you have passed a pint, the little machine beeps, alerting the technician to disengage you, but not before about three additional vials of blood are taken for testing. Even though you were honest in how you answered the ream of questions, no chances are taken when it comes to blood-borne diseases, and so the vials will be used to test for those.

Finally, you are bandaged and given post-donation instructions that include no rigorous exercise for the next 24 hours, and more than your usual intake of non-alcoholic, non-caffeinated beverages (read “water”). Then you are sent to the canteen for recovery and refreshments. Yesterday I donated “2RBC” or “double reds,” and responded accordingly at the canteen, downing two juices and eating two snacks.

One other thing used to bother me about donating blood: You don’t get to choose who it goes to. Yes, you can help save a life, and it might be a baby, or a cancer patient. It could also just as easily be a drunk driver who wrapped his car around a utility pole, or a gang-banger who got himself shot. Maybe your blood will go to that guy from the Jackass show. You just don’t know. Notice that it doesn’t stop me from donating just the same.