Volunteers Are Not 'Nuts and Bolts' to be Organized! (Reflections on Volunteer Facilitation)

Last Thursday, I was scheduled to lead the first part of a workshop on "Volunteer Management." Two weeks prior, I had been busy outlining the modules in my yellow-covered notebook when I suddenly stopped. The working title was "Organizing Volunteers," but the pen just wouldn't move. I asked myself: A volunteer isn't a mechanical object to be "organized" like parts in a machine. Right there, I crossed it out and wrote: "Self-Organization." This was a concept that had deeply resonated with me back in March 2026, while I was translating Elinor Ostrom’s Governing the Commons. (I hope to see it published soon.)

Why "Self-Organization"? I believe a volunteer in an organization is not "cheap" or "free" labor; they are a human being, with their own genuine concerns, anxieties, and dreams. When we talk about "organizing," it feels as if we are assembling machine parts. But when we talk about "self-organization," it means we are preparing the ground, creating the space for volunteers to find their own paths, while still operating within the organization's framework. It means helping them see themselves in the collective—to find and define their own place. Of course, in crises, command-and-control might be necessary, but in ordinary times, we must allow them to be themselves. This is the essence of facilitation in the process of volunteer self-organization.

This is where the role of the "Volunteer Manager" shifts. We are not bosses here; we are facilitators. A facilitator is someone who, upon seeing new volunteers lost or unsure of what to do, doesn’t dump a long list of "dos and don'ts" on them. Instead, they sit beside them, listen with patience and care, and help them discover their own potential—helping them identify exactly where they fit into this puzzle in a way that feels meaningful to them.

What should a facilitator do? I believe every facilitation technique helps: brainstorming with the group about the work ahead, breaking them into smaller clusters, and giving them the space to draw their own "mental maps" of the volunteer task. Even letting the group write their own ground rules.

Link to my article on Virgul about the journey from "suspension" to "belonging" in Persian

A volunteer entering an organization is often in a state of "suspension." They don't know where they stand, whether their voice will be heard, or if their presence makes any difference at all. They are, in a sense, hovering in the air, sometimes not even realizing what they are doing. If an organization’s leader adopts a facilitating perspective, they must prepare the ground for that "suspension" to transform into a sense of "belonging." Belonging means the volunteer feels this house is their own home. Not because of an organizational mandate or a top-down decision, but because of the deep spiritual bond they have formed with the people around them, and because they have grasped the deeper vision and purpose of the volunteer work. This is true self-organization.

Last Thursday, August 20th, 2026, we held the first session of the workshop on "Volunteer Self-Organization and Management." As the facilitator, I believe I gave the participants the opportunity to be the authors of their own experience. This coming Thursday, we will gather again to discuss this perspective. I believe if we learn to practice "creating the ground" for self-organization rather than simply "organizing" people, our organizations might find a new vitality—and the volunteers themselves will grow along the way.

P.S.: I wrote this on the train from Tehran to Kerman. I started early in the morning while the sunrise filtered through the compartment window, falling onto my face. Five others in the compartment were still asleep, and I didn't want to make a single move that might disturb their peace.

Trust in Facilitation Methods: The Invisibile Pillar of Local Participation

Trust in Facilitation Methods: The Invisible Pillar of Local Participation

A fellow facilitator once shared with me his frustration after returning from a village. He had visited five times and held several meetings, yet he still felt a wall between him and the community. He mentioned that at the end of the last session, he saw a few local group members standing in a corner, whispering to each other. He took this as a sign of distrust and felt like an outsider. He felt as though all his efforts to build trust had hit a dead end.

I told him that maybe his expectations for trust were too high. In the real world, especially in local communities that have often heard empty promises before, you cannot expect people to place full, absolute trust in an outsider right from the start. But is it really necessary for them to trust us as individuals? The most important step is for them to trust our tools and our participatory methods—the very methods that open up space for them to speak, to be heard, and to make decisions.

I asked him what happened when he laid out his tools on the ground and asked the people to prioritize the village’s problems using the cards. He confirmed that they had carefully moved the cards, discussed issues like water and access roads, and finally reached a collective agreement. Those whispered conversations at the end of the meeting weren't necessarily a sign of rejection; they were a sign that his methods were working and had engaged the villagers in talking about their real issues.

I told him not to worry; he had done his job correctly. He didn't need to stress about why the deep, total trust he imagined hadn't formed yet. The fact that the group members had accepted his methods and participated in the exercise meant he had already earned enough trust. Trusting the process is the first and most crucial step; the rest of the path is built bit by bit, over time, under the shadow of these transparent methods.

Finally, I reminded him that facilitation is not a popularity contest. The mere fact that they accepted his tools and used them to speak up means he succeeded in opening a path for them to address their own problems. Let this trust in his methods grow gradually and become the foundation for deeper cooperation. He should lift the heavy burden of "absolute trust" off his shoulders, because this level of trust in the process is enough—and even vital—to begin a great change.