Oral Histories from Sardinia to Nias: Lessons for the Next Generation.

Irony and Tragedy

It sounds like a "contradictio in se", as the Latin phrase goes: a human rights organisation that does not care for the human rights of its own staff. Yet, this is exactly what has happened to someone I know, and I feel profound pity for her.

She had worked for this human rights organisation in London for sixteen years before this tragedy occurred. She is one of those rare people who are genuinely passionate about their work—in her case, fighting human rights violations across the world. Being an American working in London, she is blunt by English standards, speaking directly to the point without the polite camouflage we are accustomed to in England. Alongside her primary role, she also volunteered with Unite, the union that protects workers' rights. True to her idealism, she actively fought for the rights of her co-workers when they were unjustly treated by her own organisation.

Then, the COVID-19 pandemic hit. Many people began working from home, and in the case of London, many moved out of the expensive city to the countryside, commuting to the office only once or twice a week. Like so many others, she relocated, took out a mortgage, and bought a flat two hours away from London by train. She was fifty-six years old at the time—a background detail that is crucial to understanding her situation.

After the pandemic, she got a new manager, whom some considered incapable—a wrong hire, by all accounts. A conflict brewed between them until the manager eventually found a way to fire her. She fought back and won the tribunal, proving her manager was wrong. However, the organisation refused to rehire her. Having already abolished her position, perhaps in anticipation of losing the court case, they simply stated they no longer had a role for her. She was fired. Despite trying repeatedly to find a way back, she achieved nothing, even as the organisation continued to hire people for other positions.

Last night, I heard she was crying for hours. She is now sixty-one years old, with a mortgage to pay, and has lost her job. Searching for a new role in London at sixty-one is a gargantuan task. I even heard from someone else that she was thinking of committing suicide.

I feel immense pity for her, and I wish I could help. How can a human rights organisation do this to its long-standing staff? She was not dismissed because she committed fraud or due to poor performance, but simply because her manager could not work with her. It is a terrible irony and tragedy that someone who spent decades passionately campaigning for human rights and fighting for the rights of her co-workers has ultimately found herself on the receiving end of that very same system.