Building the Peanut Butter Robot

I came to Panama to figure out what I want to do with my life. Not in a deep, existential "Eat, Pray, Love" kind of way, but rather how to direct my career. While I had spent most of my graduate education studying the big international organizations, most of my work experience had been at small, underfunded, and understaffed NGOs. Coming to Panama and working for one of the big guys would let me branch out. And then I could make a decision. Do I look for jobs at the small NGOs or with the major players in global health?

I've gotten a lot of advice on this subject, most of it to the effect of "the bigger, the better." This is probably the result of two underlying assumptions:

1) All organizations designed to help people can be categorized into a perfectly vertical hierarchy, and the goal is to fight your way to the top (the top in this case being a corner office in Geneva). Consequently, all the best and brightest people are clustered at one level of the food chain.

And 2) It's impossible to make any significant impact at a small organization.

Though I'm still at the beginning of my career, the experience I do have tells me that both of these assumptions are a crock. Asking "Which is better, a locally run homeless shelter in Los Angeles or the foreign aid arm of the Swedish government?" is a bit like asking, "Which is more attractive, a moose or a cupcake?" It depends largely on who you're asking and for what purpose. And it certainly isn't a linear trajectory from one to the other. As for the best and brightest, the large-scale organizations do attract a lot of smart and talented people. It would be silly to deny that. But big orgs also attract big egos, and if you think that doesn't get in the way of the quality of the work, take a look at Congress. (Clearly, I base that opinion not on my time working in Panama, but on a lifetime in Washington.)

In terms of impact, as far as I can tell, it's hard to make a significant impact anywhere. Here's an illustration of what the work is like (or what it can feel like) at both types of organization:

Large international: You have $10 million and a team of 80 PhDs. In the next five years, plan a meeting so that 600 representatives from 180 countries can come together and discuss water for day.

Small NGO: You have a box of toothpicks and some peanut butter. Build a robot.

Obviously, both organizations have their advantages and disadvantages. It's easy to get buried in red tape in the UN system, and things move at a snail's pace. But they have so much money. And we've all heard of them. (Who didn't carry around that little orange UNICEF box on Halloween as a kid?) Small organizations have to fight for every penny and command less attention. But they can work faster, use resources more efficiently, and can work on vitally important issues that will never be a focus for an organization accountable to a messy kaleidoscope of members states, bureaucrats, and political interests.

It's really not a question of which type is better. We need them both, and they are of equal importance. The eradication of smallpox could not have happened without international coordination, a ton of resources, and yes, bureaucracy. But in the 1980s, when HIV/AIDS was still thought of mostly as a gay men's disease, local groups formed and took action long before the international, or even national, powers thought the disease was worth their time and energy. Doesn't it seem kind of ridiculous to say that someone who's spent his or her career at the Whitman-Walker Clinic is somehow more or less successful or valuable than someone who's spent decades at the WHO?

So really, the decision of where to take my career comes back to my own interests and personality (or rather personality flaws). More specifically, my soft spot for people and problems often overlooked by the mainstream, and a tendency toward impatience (arguably the worst of my many weaknesses). Nothing gets me more excited than working to help a group of people who never seem to be anyone's priority. Or on issues that don't get the attention they deserve. (Ex: Pneumonia kills more kids each year than HIV, malaria, or TB. Is there a Global Fund to Fight Pneumonia? No.) And it must be said, bureaucratic processes make me want to rip my hair out. There are glaciers that move faster than the UN. They make two-toed sloths look like speed racers. And for me, things like weekly departmental planning meetings are somewhere on a level with gangrene and experimental theater. I'd prefer to avoid them at all costs.

I'm learning a lot here in Panama, and the experience has been great. I'm very grateful for the opportunity. But mostly I'm glad I came, because now I have a pretty clear idea of where I'm going from here: I'm going to be building the peanut butter robot.