Anthropology of Volunteering. Politics

The word "volunteer" entered the European vocabulary at the turn of the 16th and 17th centuries. It referred to someone who joined military service voluntarily, often at their own expense. Thus, from the outset, the concept embodied both free choice and struggle.

Over time, the military aspect faded, and the term began to apply to those who, by their own initiative, engaged in socially useful causes. Today, volunteering is mostly understood as a form of humanitarian activity aimed at addressing various deficiencies that, for various

reasons, state institutions are unable to handle effectively. At the same time, it is important to note the political suspicion that the state often casts on volunteering as an anarchic force that competes with its authority and undermines its claim to absolute sovereignty.

The mere presence of volunteers is a tacit admission of the state’s functional failure. In authoritarian or totalitarian systems, a volunteer is always a potential enemy. For example, in today’s Russian Federation, volunteers are pressured to swear allegiance to the regime and publicly praise its militarist policies and their chief architect. Yet this is still a transitional model of denial. In more rigid totalitarian regimes — such as the Soviet Union or the Third Reich — any attempt at independent volunteering was subject to unconditional repression.

Following the declaration of independence, throughout the lethargic civic slumber imposed by post-Soviet elites, Ukrainians were not particularly known for charitable initiative. And such a political strategy by the ruling class appeared more than justifiable — in their eyes. For any kind of civic engagement was perceived as a threat to their parasitic enjoyment of a land that had somehow, by an incomprehensible historical accident, fallen to them as pasture. The ruling elite’s strategic slogan became “Maintaining stability.” Because to preserve the comfort of this comprador governance, it was necessary to lull any nascent stirrings of public agency.

And for quite a long time, this policy largely succeeded — so much so that a presidential candidate could publicly refer to democratic activists as “Them bloody goats, always stickin’ their noses in, won’t let honest folk get on with the job” — a phrase echoing rural populist contempt for civic initiative, mimicking low-register speech to signal class-based scorn. And the public, by and large, accepted it. The “managers” managed, and the citizens quietly tended to their own affairs on the small slices of public life left to them by the authorities. The relationship between state and citizen could be described by a crude proportion: you don’t touch us, and we won’t bother you — even as stagnation deepened and inter-clan struggles escalated the political crisis and ideologically fractured society.

According to the World Giving Index for 2013, Ukraine ranked a mere 103rd out of 135 countries.

Typically, such a low rating is explained by researchers as a result of insufficiently dense social capital among the populations of colonial or post-colonial societies — meaning the lack of horizontal ties between people that would allow them to act toward a common goal.

However, the well-known Ukrainian proverb “My house is on the edge” — which supposedly captures the national character — actually reflects a cultural-historical format in which an oppressed population defends its consciousness and way of life from foreign intrusion, rather than simply revealing a deficit of social capital.

Contrary to the implications of that index, the very next year — after we became aware of our 103rd-place rank — Ukrainians suddenly shot up to nearly the top of the list.

So it seems the mechanism of social mobilization works quite differently.

In a country gripped by political distrust, where elections often feel more like an exchange of mutual suspicions, volunteering becomes a way to reclaim agency — even if not through the ballot box, but by distributing food packages, caring for people with disabilities, or combating gender-based violence. It does not emerge as an extension of any political program, but rather as politics without institutions, filling the void where official politics has failed.

During times of civil trial, activist consciousness — embodied in the volunteer movement — reaches its peak. Notably, in independent Ukraine, we have seen three powerful waves of civic activism: in 2004, 2013–2014, and again in 2022…

Each of these waves, in one way or another, was triggered by a deep sense of existential threat to the national community.

The Orange Revolution was ignited by election fraud and further anti-state actions by part of the ruling elite. The crime committed by Moscow’s proxies — violating the foundational right of citizens in a democratic state to choose the guarantor of their constitution — shocked many. And the response was a broad realization that not only private well-being, but also individual political engagement, shapes the quality of life around us.

The Revolution of Dignity was sparked by the violent suppression of students protesting the government’s Kremlin-serving decision to abandon a European path. And the subsequent tragic events only reinforced the collective resolve to resist hostile forces and support one another.

Occupation, destruction of cities and villages, genocide... From that point on, the Ukrainian volunteer movement evolved into a powerful, multi-purpose sector encompassing all facets of national life — from defense logistics to elderly care. Volunteering has become a prototype of an ideal state, precisely because it functions within the boundaries of a deeply imperfect one.

However, daily tragedies, grief, and tears can easily mutate into a sense of helplessness and futility. After every surge of enthusiasm, there inevitably comes a drop in activity — say mental health professionals. Perhaps for a nation as unstable as ours, the contrast between mass mobilization and sweeping apathy feels especially sharp.

Yet this is far from a uniquely Ukrainian phenomenon. Every national community — even small social groups — experience something similar. After all, we are one biological species, and the forms of our socialization differ only stylistically.

Still, what motivates a volunteer to offer their time, energy, or money — often to abstract causes or strangers? Where does social altruism come from?

Some evolutionary biologists suggest that intra-group altruism is an instinctive reaction of a social animal to external threats. For instance, an attack by a predator or a natural disaster provokes altruistic behavior toward members of its pride, herd, or swarm.

This is what we will explore next time.