In the face of numerous simultaneous crises – medical, financial, social and environmental – anxieties continue to mount. With this prolonged stress, fatigue begins to set in.
For activists, the precarious balance between the stresses of fighting and the dangers of passivity presents an impossible moral catch-22.
During the coronavirus pandemic, many of us, including myself, have experienced the stress of seeing numerous essential social causes compete for much-needed media coverage and public attention. This has been most evident in two key areas; the fight against racial injustice and the environmental movements against single-use plastics and climate change.
The discussion around racial inequality came to a head in recent months after the killing of George Floyd by white police officer, Derek Chauvin, in Minneapolis. As witness footage of the murder spread globally, the death became a horrifying reminder of the very real threats of police brutality and racial discrimination. The growing awareness, and growing outrage, manifested itself very visibly. In the United States, riots and Black Lives Matter protests drew further media attention to the cause, and across the globe, countless other protests followed suit. However, all the while, the coronavirus pandemic remains a constant threat. It’s situations such as this, where people are faced with dual opposing moral needs, that can invoke enormous moral stress.
The importance of movements such as Black Lives Matter, now possibly the largest movement in U.S. History, cannot be understated. Essential as a means of driving legislative change, they also serve as an expression of support for a marginalised minority and an acknowledgement of the prejudices they face. In understanding the importance of these rallies, potential protestors were presented with a difficult moral dilemma when weighing this importance with the increased risk of coronavirus transmission.
Another example of such a dilemma has arisen in environmental circles. The movement against single-use plastics had gained continued traction in recent years, with more sustainable practices becoming increasingly commonplace. However, anxieties about viral transmission have now led many to revert to old habits. Although fear for one’s personal health is a key contributor, the more pressing anxiety is for the health of others. For example, when faced with the decision of using a reusable cup at a café, one must weigh up the risks to the environment (both in terms of plastic pollution and climate change), with those to the health of the café staff. Although the risks are small in both cases, it creates a potentially distressing situation where one feels they may be forsaking one moral need in favour of another.
These challenges, unfortunately, are not limited to the pandemic, nor are they the only challenges social activists face. Driving social change is always a difficult task, fraught with stressors including public apathy and resistance, frustration with the slowness of progress, scarce resources and funding, and strained relationships. In combination with activists’ deep understanding of overwhelming social issues, often related to suffering and oppression – issues that society as a whole is unable or unwilling to face – the emotional labour associated with these various stressors can be debilitating. In certain circumstances, these various factors can combine to instil a chronic mental exhaustion known as activist burnout, or social justice fatigue.
Burnout, similar to that of any occupation, manifests in activists as “losing the idealism and spirit that once drove them to work for social change”. The associated emotions can differ drastically, with various feelings such as anxiety, guilt, isolation, anger, numbness, and more all having been described. This burnout not only endangers the health of the individual, but can endanger whole movements if it becomes widespread. The current Black Lives Matter had enjoyed such potent success through being founded on the central tenets of love and acceptance; prioritising self-care for activists and creating a familial network of acceptance.
With the emotional tolls of awareness of these issues being so high, it’s easy to feel like it’s all too much. As a result of this, many causes can fall from the radar as people find that they can only act on a certain number before feeling overwhelmed. For example, the recent revelation of zombie fires in the Arctic and continued record temperatures around the world haven’t caused the stir they normally might, peoples attentions and anxieties being focused elsewhere. This issue is exacerbated as injustices begin to stack, as many have mused about 2020, a year where the bushfires gave way to a pandemic which has inspired the “most severe global economic downturn since the 1930s Great Depression”, all while awareness grows of what may be “the largest internment of an ethnic and religious minority since the second world war”.
What should we do about it?
In response to the growing awareness of these social issues, many more people have become involved in visible activism. This has led to an outpouring of advice for newcomers, especially in the lead-up to the US Black Lives Matter protests. Predominantly on social media, but also through larger publications such as Buzzfeed, experienced activists were able to share their knowledge to protestors on how to stay safe and motivated, and to others on how to be effective allies. Additionally, the greater involvement has also inspired two essential discourses.
The first of these was the discussion of the fatiguing nature of engaging in these fights, particularly for these new activists. Dissecting every action in which people engage with new-found moral directives can be a challenging process, and unlearning ingrained habits can be painful. Unfortunately, this difficulty can cause people to feel helpless or, equally, that it’s simply not a fight in which they’re needed. With this state of mind, it’s easy to understand why people may mentally check out of social movements, being once again drawn to the security of unburdened ignorance.
Secondly though, came the response to this discourse. “If people are tired of hearing about racism, we are tired of experiencing it” said Amelia Arku in discussion with the Quad-City Times. The daughter of a Ghanaian immigrant to the United States, Arku surmised the sentiment felt by many marginalised groups. Ultimately, the ability to disengage from social justice movements without facing continued consequences comes from a place of privilege. This is the case in all cases of injustice. Climate change, for example, will disproportionately affect lower-income communities in developing countries. The scarce incomes of three in four people living in poverty globally are put at stake by the effects of changing weather patterns on agriculture and natural resources, while those in low-lying island nations stand to lose their homes to rising sea levels. These communities cannot afford to disengage from climate action, and yet they face an uphill battle against those that believe they can.
As expressed eloquently many a time, silence and neutrality support the status quo. In cases of injustice, this is simply not enough. It is essential that we support our activists, especially in times of such turmoil and understanding the taxing nature of activism, and the immense emotional investment made by advocates for social change, is an important first step.
