Two years ago today
Two years ago I traveled to Washington DC for a conference for work. I arrived around lunchtime at the Reagan Airport, full of excitement and boundless enthusiasm. As far as I can tell, it was the 4th annual Global Digital Health Forum, a gathering of experts in my field.
What is my field exactly?
I have to start by telling you about a sector that has gone through many identity crises over the years. In the olden days, in some circles it was known as ICT4D [Information and Communication Technologies for Development]. This was the catch all phrase for people or organizations that dared to believe that the internet revolution would extend beyond the OECD countries and eventually touch every rural district in the world.
ICT4D spurred many programs and partnerships to support technical capacity building, open-source software development, and hardware procurement were pioneers in the early days of ICT4D, which is now generally known as “Digital Development”. After many examples of projects and technologies that failed spectacularly for completely predictable reasons, practitioners in the field started working together to affirm principles to guide responsible work at the intersection of technology, social impact, and innovation. Digital Principles
But that's not exactly my field.
In the health sector, there have also been a few waves of naming rights. First it was eHealth (electronic), then it was mHealth (mobile – as in mobile phones), then it was digital health (tablets, laptops, smart watches, and all the Bluetooth things).
I guess you could say I was a digital health expert, or I wanted to be one. But what does that even mean? I wasn't a software developer. I wasn't even working for a software company, I worked for an NGO. So why was I attending a conference in DC, funded by US Agency for International Development, World Bank, and Deloitte?
I wanted to learn from people who had made the same mistakes that I was currently making. I wanted to learn the secrets to successful implementation of digital health programs. I wanted to talk to visionary leaders who understood the funding landscape and might know how we could line up sustainable funding to do this work properly.
I'm walking a fine line here. I want to give enough context about myself and my work history to draw the contours of the personal and professional dilemmas that I keep tripping over. But for many reasons, I feel the need to do this anonymously.
Partly I'm afraid for myself – even though I don't work for an NGO anymore, I don't want to get called into HR by my current company for something nasty that I said online. And most days when I read the news, I really want to say some things that I might regret.
Partly I'm afraid for my former NGO employer – I really believed in their mission and their values, and I still do. I know that the ethical dilemmas that I experienced there were not unique to that organization, because the entire industry is tied in knots caused by the capriciousness of donors, whether they are “high net-worth individuals” themselves or their spawn: the family foundation.
Finally I'm afraid for my former NGO colleagues specifically – they are people who dedicate their lives to serving their home countries and sometimes serving neighboring countries as expats. They are the ones who walk that tightrope – forming tight partnerships with government officials to ensure that the day-to-day work is not impeded, and speaking out carefully when bureaucracy rears its ugly head.
If I were to speak up and say what I have seen, who would bear the brunt of this radical act? Surely not me, the white cisgender person who lives in the USA. It's never me, it's never people like me.
But if I never speak up publicly, then what? I continue down the path that I am on, becoming more jaded and more discouraged about the widening chasm between the impact I wanted to have and the impact that I am likely to have.
This, dear reader, is where you come in.
What if we pool our stories, our mistakes, and our regrets together? Can we tell the truth about our experiences without giving away too much?
Could we can shine the light on the problems, in a way that pushes for real changes in the systems?
We don't all need to be whistleblowers, but maybe we can encourage people who need to know that they are not alone in their struggle. Maybe our writing can give them the confidence to make tough changes on the inside of their organization (or government).
In the 1950s, there was a black and white TV show called Dragnet that began with a dramatic narrative voice-over:
“The story you are about to see is true. Names were changed to protect the innocent.”
If you have a story that you might want to share, please reach out. You can remain anonymous if you want, that's really up to you.
I can't promise that I will publish what you share, but I can promise to read and respond, and we can decide together what to do next.
Your story can be personal: How did it feel to be laboring for a cause that was near to your heart, and how did you admit to yourself that you were showing all the signs of burnout?
Your story can be professional: What did you do when you realized that your organization or your team had your priorities completely backwards? Did you ever have a boss who cared more about “Keeping USAID happy” than anything else?
If you have a story to share, or you just want to reach out to say hi, you can find me at hello@deconstruct.technology.
