Have we become too comfortable with the ‘proud’ side of charity work?

A couple of months ago a Welsh MP, Liz Saville Roberts, visited a foodbank. This isn’t in itself unusual:  MPs often rock up at local charities for photo opportunities.

There were the usual ‘right’ words about how wonderful the volunteers and donors are. Hey ho. But one remark she is quoted as saying really made me spit feathers.

She said: “I will continue to advocate for the resources and support required to keep delivering this essential service for communities across Pen Llŷn.”

Why am I upset about that? Because it’s the wrong bloody thing to be advocating for. We shouldn’t need foodbanks. It’s something we should view with a deep and profound shame – and every MP should be saying they will work towards them never being needed ever again.

There is a tension at the heart of our sector that we don’t always say out loud. But we should – because it matters.

It is entirely possible to feel both deeply proud and deeply ashamed at the same time.

Proud of what we do. Ashamed that we have to do it.

Take foodbanks. We have brilliant, human, dignified responses to food poverty. But they exist because far too many people are living on the edge. What does it say about us that foodbanks are needed at all? In one of the richest countries in the world, people cannot afford the basics. Food. We’re meant to just… get used to that?

And this isn’t an isolated example, is it? This pattern repeats. Again. And again. And again.

Domestic abuse services – some of the most skilled, life-saving work you will find anywhere. They save lives. They rebuild futures. That is something to be proud of.

But their very existence tells us something else: that gender-based violence is still pervasive.

Or street homelessness. Crisis teams walking the streets when most of us are asleep. Hostels, night shelters, supportive shoulders. There is humanity there. Persistence. Grit.

And yet, how have we allowed homelessness on this scale to become something we manage rather than something we end? Because let’s be honest, it is a systemic failure of housing, of welfare and political will.

Mental-health services tell the same story. The idea that, in the middle of the night, someone will answer the phone and listen without judgement is one of the quiet triumphs of civil society.

But it begs a hard question. Why are so many people reaching crisis point?

And then there’s refugee and asylum support. Communities offering welcome, legal advice, practical help – standing alongside people in systems that can feel indifferent or hostile. We see the best of human instinct there.

But we also see the consequences of conflict, displacement, and policy decisions that leave people stuck. Waiting. Struggling. Facing prejudice.

Campaigning and movement-building carry the same dual truth. Anti-racism work. Equity movements. Trans allyship – people standing visibly with those under attack. That’s powerful. That’s necessary.

And yet… those movements exist because prejudice and discrimination still exist.

Even in debt advice, welfare rights, mutual aid – we see it. Incredible people helping other people navigate systems that are far too complex. But why were those systems so hard to navigate in the first place?

There is a real risk that we have become too comfortable on the ‘proud’ side of this equation.

We celebrate impact – rightly. We tell stories of change – rightly. We highlight success – rightly. But if we lose sight of the other side – the shame, the injustice, the fact that these needs exist at all – we start to normalise what should never be normal.

Holding both truths, pride and shame, is uncomfortable. It refuses to let us sit back and say, ‘job done’.

But that discomfort? That’s where our moral clarity lives.

Our role is not just to respond well: although we must, and we do. Our role is to insist, loudly and persistently, that the need for that response is neither inevitable nor acceptable.

So yes, be proud. Be proud of your teams, your volunteers, your communities. Be proud of the lives changed, the dignity restored, the hope rebuilt.

But don’t ever get used to it! Stay angry that you’re needed at all!

The moment we stop being angry about injustice is the moment we start accepting a world we should be fighting to change.

So the next time I see an MP at a foodbank, I want them to say: “I will continue to be angry that this essential service is needed – and I will do everything in my power to change the system that creates this need.”

This article was originally published on the Third Sector website, take a look here.