Why we Should Stop Paying to Volunteer
- India Gustin
- Mar 21
- 8 min read
Updated: Mar 28
For many young travellers, voluntourism is a way to see the world while doing good. But what if paying up to be able to serve these communities is actually reinforcing harmful power dynamics?
“I’ve been called a demon spawn,” says Pippa Biddle. “As someone of faith, it’s very interesting to be told that I don’t get it or that I’m wrong.” Contrary to popular belief, our planet is filled with people who want to do right by others and make the world a better place. So being challenged on the very vessel they use to seemingly spread empathy, kindness and compassion is a hard pill to swallow. On the surface, voluntourism seems like a perfectly fine system with no room for bad intentions. However, after seeing the work that went on behind-the-scenes, Pippa decided to delve deeper into this world to uncover what lies at the heart of the industry.
One of life’s biggest dilemmas is asking yourself: should I save or should I travel? Whist both have numerous advantages, there is one ubiquitous idea which seems to blanket both decisions. One which pushes you out of your comfort zone without breaking the bank. I have volunteered twice before whilst backpacking and both times have generated some of the best moments of my life. From working with stray dogs in a tiny town along the coast of Morocco to bottle-feeding joeys on a farm in Australia, these experiences will stay with me forever. Both times were also completely free. In exchange for free labour, I would receive basic food and accommodation. Little did I know that not far from this innocent practice with little to no profitable turnaround is an industry which in 2023 was worth $848.9 million (other experts estimate this figure to be $2 billion). Enter the world of voluntourism.

The concept is simple: rather than lounging on a beach all day, the purpose of the trip is taken with the intention of volunteering. On the surface, the intention seems pure. However, a deep dive into the intricate network of the industry and you may find one or two discrepancies within the system. Pippa Biddle uncovered a slew. She is a writer who went viral over a decade ago when she published what she called a “stream of conscious rant” blog post entitled, The Problem with Little White Girls. In it, she details her experience with paying thousands to volunteer abroad, helping those in need, and going home only to realise that what she did may be the reason these communities find themselves in these situation in the first place.
“The problem that I encountered is that the transformative impacts that I was experiencing, were not mirrored in the communities that I was in,” Pippa explains. After all was said and done, she was not seeing the positive changes she expected, but rather was “actively seeing negatives”. Her first experience volunteering was in Tanzania as part of a school trip. They were set with the task of building a library for the orphanage they were volunteering at. “To say that we were ill equipped is a very large understatement,” she says, explaining that even for simple construction tasks there are simple yet crucial rules to follow, none of which were ever explained to the high school group.

Her early-morning routine unintentionally presented her with a scene which was not intended to be seen by the volunteers. To her dismay, all the bricks and mortar which were amateurishly placed by Pippa and her peers the day before, were being taken down and re-done. “When we would go there the next morning [to resume our work], it would look the same,” Pippa says. This is the first event which opened her eyes to the inner workings of voluntourism. Not only did she realise that it is wildly inefficient, but it was also extremely money-hungry, preying on the good intentions and naivety of young travellers. Of course, my experience saw no transaction from the outset so has my blind faith fed into this blackhole too?

Simply put, Pippa says no. Firstly, volunteering with animals rather than human communities is a sort of “grey zone”. Secondly, she doesn’t count exchanging free labour for free accommodation (and in my case, food) as voluntourism. This also makes sense given the fact that you don’t need a particular skill set to feed a dog, pick up its feces and take it for a walk. The same can’t be said for building a library, teaching a group of children or helping to vaccinate large communities. However, Pippa points out the issue with knit-picking the industry. “People will use it as an excuse for the whole industry when really it's a bit of an exception to the rule,” she explains. “It’s easier to say ‘do not do it’ instead of ‘but maybe’ because sometimes what gets picked up is the ‘but maybe’.”
I’ll be the first to admit that whilst there was a sense of wanting to help something bigger than myself, the exchange of free food and accommodation for free labour is definitely a good deal. Especially as a backpacker. The beginning of my transition from broke student to broke traveller was also right around the time I figured I could travel to new places and volunteer. I always assumed it would be free. So you can imagine my surprise that upon excitingly searching for places to go volunteer, I was met with the overwhelming amount of agencies who were incessantly promoting this so-called backpacker lifestyle, all for the cheap cheap price of some few hundred euros (give or take). To this day, my unprofessional opinion remains the same. Whilst volunteering doesn’t need to include free accommodation or meals of any sort, I shouldn’t have to pay to help out*. Understandably, in some situations they are looking for donations or ways to pay full-time staff for example. As Pippa found out, however, the industry has taken it much further than that.
“In many ways, voluntourism requires cultural insensitivity. It also requires superiority."
In the same volunteer trip she was a part of in Tanzania, she uncovered that the same experience was being resold to the same school one year later. That same library building was left untouched for a year so that the same project could be sold again to unsuspecting students, even though they had already bought them all the materials. Whilst it was details like these that made my stomach churn, casting a shadow over the side of my brain that always thought that what I did was good when I volunteered, there was a major difference between the two. I never paid anyone or anything. On the contrary, my three-month volunteer stint in Australia was mostly fuelled by my visa requirements (therefore, I was pursuing it to gain a lot more for myself. Call it selfish I suppose). Plus, according to Pippa’s analysis of the factors negatively impacting communities, I was not pretending to have certain skills to create an illusion of superiority among these communities. The same can’t be said for the time I spent a day at a school in Luang Prabang, Laos.
Whilst again, I did not have to pay to make my way in, another much bigger issue looms over this type of volunteering. This time, I wasn’t helping out stray dogs or baby joeys. This time, I was there to ‘help out’ children with their English. It was only a day-long affair so it may seem dramatic to include it in this analysis but according to Pippa, it is exactly this short-term, coming and going routine which poses serious mental health ramifications for these children. “There have been studies that show this,” Pippa explains. "You tell them that you can help them and they believe you, but then you leave.” Then comes the notion that complete strangers are allowed into schools. Then, the fact that I have no qualifications whatsoever to teach. As Pippa concisely put it: “Why does teaching require a qualification everywhere else but when you volunteer.”
Are these extreme cases? Possibly. Did I personally try to teach these young minds proper English grammar by pretending that I knew better? No. We played card games and held up pictures of farm animals for them to imitate. It was hilarious watching the Laotian children absolutely losing it when my friend (who has two full sleeves) walked into the classroom. They would grab his arms, use their tiny fingers to try and rub off the permanent ink lines. Once they realised their efforts were futile, their eyes would grow wide and they’d erupt in laughter. Whilst I can confidently say that my time at the school was if anything, a fun and exciting time to hang out with foreigners for the children, it also makes sense how the entire system may be flawed.

“In many ways, voluntourism requires cultural insensitivity,” Pippa explains. “It also requires superiority.” It is an uncomfortable feeling among most if not all of us who volunteer abroad. “The assumption that you can provide something to a community that they cannot provide to themselves requires a sense of superiority especially if you have no particular skills to do that thing.” Once again drawing on my experience, I was never set out to the serve the community, but rather the animals. Whilst I would rather keep my opinion on the matter unbiased, I can’t help but connect the dots to imagine someone paying a certain amount of money (let’s face it, some of them cost an absolutely ridiculous sum) to impose this sense of superiority on a community that a third-party has deemed worthy.
It’s a dark conclusion and one that I am certain is only valid for extreme cases. There are numerous independent non-profit organisations out there that don’t make part of the industry because they don’t ask for anything in return for your time. There are also numerous communities that are actively looking for people to volunteer (either because they can’t afford to pay or because they know that it creates opportunities for young people to experience life outside of home) regardless if third-parties act as the middleman or not. There are a bunch of exceptions. But as Pippa explains, many will use these to excuse the entire industry.

“I don’t think voluntourism should exist, but I do believe in volunteering,” Pippa argues. I would have to agree. After developing my ideas on the concept a little further, it does seem that a big part of the voluntourism industry is financially-powered. I think that paying ridiculous amounts of money to volunteer anywhere will always remain an alien concept to me. While the conclusion to whether or not voluntourism constitutes as a force for good seems to be 'it depends', educating ourselves rather than blindly trusting seems to be the reasonable consensus for the time being. My time volunteering will always remain a highlight of my trips whilst travelling. There is so much more to it just than exchanging your time to help out. The places, people you meet and overall outcome is second to none. Yet, even within an industry which by nature works on good intentions, there are dark pockets which innocent travellers like you and I need to watch out for. “The industry is wildly resilient,” says Pippa. “We can’t force anyone to do anything. It has to be an individual choice.”
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