The many languages of advocacy

Editor's note: This is one in a series of reports by Kathryn Dill, who is working at the United Nations in Geneva, Switzerland, as part of a journalism internship. Dill, of Libertyville, is a 2004 graduate of Woodlands Academy in Lake Forest and a recent graduate of Boston College.

One morning I stood outside a conference room at the United Nations in Geneva, chatting with the spokeswoman of a major international organization. She was describing some internal strife that had occurred recently with regard to a poster advertising the launch of a new campaign from her organization. Everyone agreed on the group they were representing, just not what it should look like on the poster.

"Well," I offered, "I suppose everyone has their own ideas about advocacy."

It was a benign remark, admittedly devoid of particular ingenuity or conviction, and I had said it hoping to sound diplomatic, or at least supportive. But I remembered it later, as I contemplated the extraordinary number of press releases, briefings, reports and fliers that I, just one small journalist in the midst of a colossal, complex mechanism, digest on a daily basis. Each of them seems to speak on behalf of causes equally just and impassioned, each of them seems to represent an issue that we, citizens of the developed world, could fix if we just put our minds to it, each of them seems to have been authored by someone who would proudly claim and wear the orphaned rubber "Friends of Humanity!" bracelet that mysteriously wanders to a new corner of my cubicle each day.

So against this particular backdrop, amidst so many good intentions and with the constant drumbeat of "can't we all just get along?" pulsing through us, why is dissent so common among those working for the common good?

"There's an incredible amount of politics involved in advocacy," a colleague told me recently. She smiled knowingly, perhaps aware that I was mentally changing each aid worker I envisioned out of their Birkenstocks and poncho and into a pinstriped suit.

Despite these revelations, I had not previously been so naive as to think that every activist is of one mind with the rest of his or her ideological compatriots. "Causes," humanitarian or otherwise, are made up of people, just like corporations or political parties or book clubs. If "causes" are driven and sustained by the collective passions of various individuals, then they are also shaped and directed by the often divergent personalities and foibles of those individuals.

In college all of my friends stood for a cause, sometimes multiple, each of them proclaimed from the high-gloss adhesive paper of stickers attached to laptops and Jeeps. "No Farms, No Food!" "Students for Equality!" "Make Trade Fair." You had to represent something you could slap on a bumper, or how would anyone know what kind of person you were?

Among certain groups of people, even those who don't become professional advocates or activists, this kind of representation remains normative -- college professors, for example, and, it would seem, journalists.

"This is one of the few organizations I'd willingly advertise for," said a colleague recently, adjusting the straps on a backpack that extolled the virtues of gender equality in the workplace. Nearby, another journalist was hard at work beneath a sticker fixed to her cubicle bearing the viewpoint that "Only Elephants Should Wear Ivory."

As I contemplated the unusual relationship between individuals and the larger causes they represent, I though back to an event I had attended the previous week. It was titled "Linguistic Rights to enhance Human Rights," being held in celebration of 2008, International Year of Languages, by the European Bureau for Lesser-Used Languages. The first time I looked at the flier, my only reaction was to be amazed that someone had taken the time to create an entire bureau to deal with a topic that seemed so painfully specific.

But as I listened to the different members of the panel explain the importance of preserving language diversity, it occurred to me that this wasn't just the name of a cause that had been printed on fliers, represented by an acronym. This was an issue about which a group of people were so passionate that they had devoted not only their time but their life's work to its development, and now they were explaining why it should be important to me, as well.

"Language is not just a means, but a medium, un milieu," said Josep M. Terricabras, of International PEN. "Not just an instrument, but an atmosphere, an ambiance, where we grow up, we learn, we laugh, we have pain, and we pray, we sing, we make mistakes and we finally die. Language embraces and produces our different forms of life."

I thought about the growing pile of press releases on my desk, each one an update on a gargantuan global issue that demanded not only the dogged dedication but the varied talents and experiences of the individuals who devoted their time to it. Each problem seemed to have a million dimensions, constantly requiring new ideas for solutions, different people to carry them out, new perspectives and languages.

I suppose everyone has their own ideas about advocacy.