Time to celebrate volunteers
Before we get into the policy debates, the shifting trends, the challenges around recruitment and retention, or the role of technology, it feels right to pause briefly and recognise the people who make so much of what we value actually happen.
There’s something fitting about beginning a conference on the future of volunteering with a celebration of volunteers themselves.
Before we get into the policy debates, the shifting trends, the challenges around recruitment and retention, or the role of technology, it feels right to pause briefly and recognise the people who make so much of what we value actually happen.
Because when I think about volunteering, the first thing I think about isn’t strategy or policy, or the state of the sector, it’s Saturday mornings.
Most weekends, you’ll find me somewhere at the start line of a race. It might be a marathon, an ultra, or every now and again something a little shorter. And almost every time the experience begins the same way: a volunteer waving me into a muddy field to park, another pointing me towards registration, someone handing over a race number with a smile despite having already been there for hours.
Out on the course, it’s volunteers who keep everything moving. They’re the ones filling water bottles, handing out snacks, shouting encouragement at mile 18 when it’s most needed, and making sure I don’t take a wrong turn and accidentally add an extra five miles to my day.
And at the end? More often than not, it’s a volunteer placing a medal around my neck.
That entire experience is powered by people giving their time freely.
It’s not just large-scale events either. My local running club Southport Strollers recently hosted its annual Red Squirrel 10k race. Hundreds of runners turned up. The event ran seamlessly. And behind it all was an army of volunteers: marshals, organisers, timekeepers, people managing registrations, setting up routes, clearing down afterwards. The result? A brilliant community event and over £3,000 raised for local charities in the process.
Then there’s my local tennis club where it’s my turn. No paid staff, just volunteer groundskeepers, committee members, bar staff, team captains and assorted helpers-out, keeping the whole thing running week in, week out. It’s more than a sports club; it’s a social hub, a place people connect, unwind, and belong – especially on the nights when I’m helping out behind the bar!
And that’s the point.
We often talk about the “value” of volunteering. We try to quantify it, to measure its economic contribution, to demonstrate its return on investment. Those things matter in some ways, particularly when we’re making the case to funders or policymakers.
But the truth is, much of what volunteering creates simply can’t be costed.
You can’t easily replace the sense of community it builds. You can’t replicate the goodwill, the local knowledge, the relationships, or the pride people take in contributing to something bigger than themselves. And you certainly can’t recreate it at scale through paid models without fundamentally changing what it is.
Without volunteers, so much of what we take for granted, events, clubs, community spaces, shared experiences, would either disappear entirely or become something far less accessible and we would all be poorer for it.
That’s why starting the day with a celebration of volunteers isn’t just a nice gesture, it’s essential.
Because as we look ahead to “Volunteering in 2026 and Beyond,” we need to stay rooted in what makes volunteering so powerful in the first place. Only then can we have meaningful conversations about how it evolves, adapts, and thrives in the years to come.
