The heart of it

I've been reflecting a little lately on the heart of what it is that we do.

By this, I mean, the fundamental values that shape what we choose to 'do' (as in, how we spend much of our time, generally work but not necessarily paid) and what we in fact end up becoming.

And when the gulf between the two becomes obvious, the question is why and how did this come to be? How is it that a deeply valued worker can end up, over time, as just another bureaucrat? Another manager exemplar. Incremental creep? Or perhaps idealism meets realism.

There is something, however, about being a social worker (or, more correctly, one in training) that causes me to reflect on this topic perhaps harder than I otherwise have in the past.

After all, social work is actually quite a fiery passion. It sounds terribly 'do-goodish' and tree-huggy, but in fact it's underpinned by a deep and abiding commitment to social justice.

When I first started studying social work, I was a little suspicious of where all that bubbling, barely contained fervour for social justice might exactly be expected to take me. I'd spent many years in the Commonwealth public service responding to public scrutiny processes of the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission. I'd become more than a touch jaded and cynical about that organisation, especially with its symbiotic relationship to the media.

All that cynicism had, however, rather clouded my vision on a much more important matter.

The simplicity of meaning in 'human rights'. What that much used, but little examined, term means in day to day life. The way it infuses our everyday existence and interactions, at work, at home, socially. Our relationship to human rights exemplifies our values in a way perhaps nothing else does. Human rights at an individual level (treating others with respect, dignity, inherent worth), socially and culturally (access, equity) and collectively (acknowleding our shared humanity and the collective rights of Indigenous people).

I've now come around to the view that without a fiery commitment to human rights, a conscious focus on human rights in everyday practice, I can't really call myself a social worker. I don't want to be the kind of social worker that claims the name, but acts like a bureaucrat. That thinks more like a manager. That calculates on efficiency dividends and drives forward on critical performance measures.

I want to be the worker that goes to the heart of it, first.