How Is Mutual Aid Different From Donating to Charity?
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Over the summer, I stumbled upon a viral post from an activist that piqued my curiosity.
"Maybe it's corny but if you are anxious about the state of this country I promise organizing / participating in mutual aid will make you feel better," it read. "Having a sense of purpose and making a tangible difference with your neighbors is a million times better than doom scrolling."
I paused, my finger hovering over my screen. I ticked all those boxes: Anxious? Yes. Doomscrolling? Obviously. Searching for a way to feel better? Always.
As a personal finance journalist, I'm well-versed in the ins and outs of traditional charitable giving: the pros, the cons, the overhead costs, the tax benefits, the research I should do before typing in my card number, et cetera. But that post had me intrigued.
How is mutual aid different from donating money to charity?
Una Osili, now the executive director of philanthropy, strategy and operations at the Eli Lilly and Company Foundation, tells me that at its most basic, mutual aid is a community-based approach to supporting needs in a community. This may sound repetitive, but emphasizing the specialized, decentralized focus is key.
In mutual aid, "people come together to help support each other without relying necessarily on nonprofits and the government," she says. "The idea is that institutions don't have to mediate this type of assistance."
One of the big criticisms of traditional charities is that they rely on regimented, almost hierarchical systems. With a charity, a person in need might be required to qualify for and apply to unlock financial support, which can cause extra stress and/or stigma if they're already struggling.
With mutual aid, they (ideally) enter into a more egalitarian exchange of services.
"There is a sense of an ability to solve problems efficiently without friction and see the tangible outcomes or the impact you're having on somebody else who's in need," Osili says. "It can be in real time. So I don't need to call the government… [or] fill out a form. I can literally say, 'I need a ride,' and it can appear."
Mutual aid is far from new. It has a long history — one example is the mutualistas in Texas in the late 1800s — but rose to particular prominence during the pandemic.
This is true of giving in general: Amid the COVID-19 crisis and racial justice protests sparked by the death of George Floyd, Americans donated a record $471 billion to charity in 2020. But lockdowns that stifled big in-person fundraisers, a surge in resource-hoarding and a mistrust of bureaucrats inspired a groundswell of grassroots efforts, with more than 1,000 mutual aid groups popping up across the country.
Immunocompromised folks posted in neighborhood-specific Facebook groups requesting rides to the hospital; volunteers organized grocery deliveries according to Google Sheet schedules. Mutual aid took forms like sharing WiFi routers, giving free vet care, stocking community fridges and more.
Part of the reason it worked — and continues to work — is that "people make bridges of trust based on mutually beneficial sharing," says Stephanie Rearick, president of Humans United in Mutual Aid Networks, or HUMANs.
That's another way mutual aid is distinct from charity: Networks like HUMANs have broad goals around wealth redistribution, moving away from an economy built on scarcity and toward a dynamic in which people cross-collaborate and approach work in a different way than they do now.
"We have a desire to co-opt business as usual and use mutual aid — time banking, sharing, other forms of mutual credit [and] complementary currencies — to enable better flow of stuff, skills, time and things from where there is capacity to where there is need," she says.
To be sure, mutual aid isn't a perfect solution to everything. Drawbacks include the potential for burnout and challenges with scaling. Osili says that when a mutual aid org grows from hundreds to thousands of members, it can become hard to coordinate efforts and track compliance.
Although mutual aid is great at providing immediate relief in acute crises (like the California wildfires), Osili says, long-term, large-scale problems (like the Flint water crisis) often require a coordinated response and evaluation. In these cases, nonprofits tend to have access to data that can identify pockets of need and the infrastructure to service them, she says.
But there's still value in getting involved.
I don't have to have a lot of (or any) cash in order to help my neighbors. Rearick suggests exploring this Mutual Aid 101 learning series or signing up at mutualaidnetwork.org. Usili recommends thinking through the causes that resonate with me and figuring out how I might be able to contribute to my local mutual aid network.
When folks connect through mutual aid, they start "realizing how many people all over the world have the same sort of vision and desire," Rearick adds, which "helps you realize the vast majority of us are in solidarity, whether we recognize it or not."
The bottom line
Mutual aid is an exchange of resources with a lower barrier to entry than traditional charities. It's community-driven and draws on the diverse skills of its members to provide on-the-ground support. Mutual aid can be an actionable, hands-on way to make a difference alongside my traditional donations to nonprofits.
"It levels the playing field," Osili says. "We all have access to the same information, [and if] I can see you need help, and I am able to help you, we close the loop that way."
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