It's not about you: Burnout is systemic and colonial

 

A few weeks ago I wrote about how I'm experiencing burnout.  At that time, there wasn't much I could offer other than a description of the sensation...  and if I'm honest it's not likely that I can do much more than that now.  While I am capable of recognizing the state of burnout, I feel largely paralyzed with respect to what I should do to help myself.  As I sort it out, I expect that it will be the topic of another post...  but in the meantime I have been struck by the number of people the post has resonated with--so I feel like it's worthwhile to say a bit more. 

I occupy a position of relative security in my job, augmented by the reality that I'm a white settler with a tremendous amount of privilege.  As such, I think I have an opportunity to talk about burnout in ways that others can't do safely - that is, others who find themselves in situations of employment precarity, or those who already experience marginalization in addition to work conditions that facilitate burnout.  So, I'll attempt to lay it out in all its' ugliness, and to interrogate the reasons underpinning what seems like a burnout epidemic.  

As it turns out, there is a lot of writing out there on the topic, however it hasn't seemed to make any kind of substantive difference to individual experiences of burnout.  I suspect this has to do with something I identified in my last post: burnout is colonial.  Let me offer some examples of what I mean.  

Byung-Chul Han wrote a book called The Burnout Society back in 2015.  He pegged the burnout phenomenon on something he called auto-exploitation, "where individuals impose performance expectations on themselves, often without external force, in the pursuit of achievement, success, and social validation" (smartwellnes.eu). In a nutshell, Han claimed that people believe they are autonomous but they are actually deeply conditioned by society, so they ultimately end up chasing blind ambition and exploiting themselves.  This explanation could be helpful if Han named it for what it really is: insidious replication of colonial harm that is ingrained in the individual psyches and conditioned behavior of almost everyone.  

A recent book, "The Trauma of Burnout" by Claire Plumbly (2025), acknowledges colonialism and systemic oppression as elements that create a context for burnout.  However, Plumbly focused almost solely on the human nervous system as the key to mitigating and managing burnout--shifting the responsibility for burnout back to the individual, where a person shoulders the onus for extracting themselves from "survival mode" regardless of what their histories with a profoundly unjust colonial system look like.  

What I'm getting at is that, regardless of the approach people take to investigate the burnout phenomenon, focus (and perhaps blame) is inevitably turned back onto the individual, making it seem like my burnout is solely a product of my inability to create boundaries, manage my nervous system, or to prioritize sleep and consuming a balanced diet.  The systemic causes of burnout are seldom acknowledged, much less addressed (Valdez, 2024).  We are conditioned to be good worker bees (as pictured above), except in nature the system is balanced and the bee goes home at night to rest, completely unconcerned with the work he will do tomorrow.  Humans remain perpetually haunted by work, carrying the stress of it with them everywhere at all times--including into their interpersonal relationships and what should be neutral daily routines.  

I believe that our systems are set up to use us, irrespective of the damage this may cause.  This may read as the cynical rant of a conspiracy theorist, but I really don't care.  It's about time that someone called out our systems--all of our systems--for the harm they do to everyone, and the exponential harm inflicted on folks from marginalized communities or those who experience intersectional identities.  It's also about time that the person doing the calling out is white, and that this kind of consciousness raising does not continuously fall on the shoulders of people who cope with escalating danger on the daily.  

White folks, we experience burnout and it hurts.  However, we are still far safer in the effort to make a difference to the systemic cycle of burnout than many of our friends and colleagues.  What can we do?  We can be vocal (like, a pain in the backside) about organizational conventions and pressures that contribute to burnout.  We can model taking a loud and critical stance when policies or process that will cause harm to employee well-being are proposed.  We can advocate for pausing--taking some reflective time--before making decisions that will influence the day to day work of large groups of people.  We can intentionally, steadfastly, and publicly have the backs of colleagues who experience racism, homophobia, ableism, and other forms of bigotry, even if it makes us feel uncomfortable in the moment.  I challenge you to examine your own sphere of influence and to identify the places where your advocacy could make a change to the systemic conditions that contribute to burnout.