In my previous blog post I explored how project partners who are exposed to continuous crisis and instability develop a kind of a practical sense (crisis habitus) to cope with extreme conditions over which they have very limited control. Now, I will move to a more individual level, discussing the ambivalence of everyday project work, which can be experienced as both a burden and a source of psychological stability.

Can meaningless work become meaningful?

“Maybe it’s useless sometimes, yes, but it’s useful for my mental health,” explained a Lebanese project professional during an interview we had, when we talked about her typical working day since the war began. She described how she was preparing project proposals for vocational training in regions experiencing bombardments. At times, the work seemed completely meaningless, even surreal. How could she prepare a winning project proposal for activities in a location where people were currently being displaced, and where nobody knew whether the activities could ever be implemented?

She even considered leaving her job…

However, as our conversation continued, another dimension revealed. Her stories and experiences indicated how project work provided her with a daily routine, a distraction from the constant negative news, even a reason to get up in the morning and something to concentrate on other than fear. “I started asking my manager for additional tasks,” explaining that without work, she would feel increasingly depressed. “It was my therapy,” she told me in an ironic tone, adding that instead of paying for therapy, she was receiving a salary.

I find this contrast particularly interesting. The project itself had not necessarily become more meaningful in terms of its planned objectives or expected results (as written in the project application form). What had changed was the meaning of work for the person doing it. Project work was no longer simply about implementing project activities and fulfilling contractual obligations. It had also become a way of managing fear and maintaining some sense of normality – providing rhythm, structure, purpose and stable routine – within an otherwise unpredictable everyday life.

Project meeting as a space of care and emotional support

In EU projects, online consortium meetings are generally organized to discuss project progress, review deliverables and deadlines, identify potential delays, and agree on the next steps (you can read more about the rituality of project meetings in my latest book, in Chapter 5).

However, through the STRIPES project, I experienced for the first time what it means to be in project meetings where some partners join from war zone while others participate from safe environments. At times, I worried that we – the latter group – were wasting our Lebanese colleagues’ valuable time, adding to their already overwhelming responsibilities with questions, meetings and discussions about project activities that might have seemed trivial compared to the realities they were facing.

I was wrong.

Through conversations, I came to realise that these meetings could also have a different meaning. “The meetings were an escape for me,” explained my project colleague, indicating that rather than being merely another professional obligation, they also offered a temporary escape from the surrounding crisis and an opportunity to reconnect with international colleagues.  Other partners regularly checked on the Lebanese team, asked about their safety, and expressed genuine concern and care. “The meetings were sometimes more about checking how colleagues were doing than discussing project tasks,” as she explained.

When stopping the work is simply not an option

Although continuing project implementation under conditions of war may seem almost absurd – with unrealistic deadlines, ambitious impact targets, and expectations that appear disconnected from the realities on the ground – there is yet another important reason why project professionals continue working despite these extraordinarily difficult circumstances. Sometimes, stopping project work is simply not an option.

“Beneficiaries are waiting for me […] I need to work,” explained a colleague. The reasoning reflected a sense of a moral urgency and a humanitarian obligation towards people who depended on the services provided through these projects.

We should also not overlook the economic dimension. As another interviewee explained, even in times of bombardment staying at home was not a realistic option. In an already difficult economic situation in Lebanon, people were afraid of losing their jobs. As he said: “I am thankful for projects because they provide income and take people away from what they are living daily.” Continuing project work was therefore also about maintaining employment and securing an income for themselves and their families.

What does it mean to keep working?

I believe that these experiences complicate the familiar language of resilience. When project professionals continue working despite extraordinarily difficult circumstances, we may be tempted to describe this as evidence of remarkable adaptability, even heroic dedication.

Maybe to some extent; and I have personally witnessed the professional commitment and humanitarian responsibility of our Lebanese colleagues. Still and as previously described, the work continuation can also reflect the fear of unemployment, the need for routine, economic pressure, or simply the desire to occupy one’s mind with something other than war. And these motivations are not mutually exclusive; they can coexist within the same person, sometimes even within the same working day.

But what I find particularly important is that continuing with the project work during war does not necessarily mean that people are coping well, and nor should we automatically interpret it as evidence of successful crisis management.

Project work can be experienced as meaningless and meaningful at the same time. The same deadlines that create additional pressure may also provide a sense of structure. The same meetings that serve administrative purposes may offer moments of solidarity and connection.

Perhaps this is one of the most important lessons: the project work in times of crisis can bring about managerial and bureaucratic absurdities, but it can also become a shelter of normality.   

This series draws on ongoing ethnographic research supported by the EU Erasmus+ Strengthening T-VET to foster Relevant and Inclusive Internship Programmes and Employability Skills (STRIPES, Project 101129181), and Research Programme P2-0266 of the Slovenian Research and Innovation Agency (ARIS). The research received ethical approval from the IRI UL Research Ethics Committee (KER-IRIUL-001-2023).