Aid workers risk their lives and bodies to deliver aid to the most vulnerable

Late in a sweltering Khartoum night, I sat glued to my phone. I was following the desperate attempt, which ultimately failed, to save my friend and counterpart at the head of the United Nations mission in Baghdad, Sergio Vieira de Mello. I have known many of the 22 people who were killed by an Al Qaeda bomb on August 19, 2003. It is now commemorated as World Humanitarian Day, in honor of all aid workers. who made the ultimate sacrifice in the service of humanity.

Last month, three Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) staff in Tigray joined a growing list of deaths. The Aid Workers Safety Database has recorded more than 6,000 casualties since 1997. This is undoubtedly an underestimate as many assaults go unreported.

Over the past decade, Afghanistan, South Sudan, Syria, Somalia and the Democratic Republic of the Congo have been the most dangerous places. But rescue work can be risky anywhere. In 2020, there were 276 major attacks in 40 countries, 108 frontline workers were killed, 242 injured and 125 kidnapped.

The means of killing reflect contemporary forms of combat. Aid workers have been beaten, stabbed and shot dead. They also suffered from bombardments, explosives and aerial bombardments. Survivors often bear the long-term burden of post-traumatic psychosocial dysfunction.

In the age of the pandemic, an extra twist has been added. Dissatisfaction with social restrictions, financial burdens and fears over COVID-19 and Ebola have put humanitarian health workers in the crosshairs.

Has the humanitarian enterprise become more dangerous? Armed conflicts have evolved from fewer clashes between states to numerous and confused civil wars. These cause more civilian casualties because today’s soldiers are better protected in their armor. Or they’re sitting behind computer screens, launching missiles and drones from a safe distance.

In contrast, there are more and more aid workers on chaotic frontlines. They are driven by social expectations to ensure that all suffering is alleviated. They also face a number of other challenges. These include fierce competition for funding between humanitarian organizations, a skeptical audience looking for hard evidence of the suffering, and a jaded media that needs more reality reporting.

As more aid workers venture to places precedents dared not, it’s no surprise that some are injured.

Protective provisions

In theory, this is a manageable risk, as the sanctity of humanitarians is recognized by customary norms in all cultures. These are then codified in specific provisions to protect humanitarian workers. For example, in the Geneva Conventions on International Humanitarian Law, the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, United Nations Security Council resolutions and national criminal laws.

In addition, the humanitarian sector is now increasingly professionalized through risk assessments, special equipment, security protocols and training.

Unfortunately, the perverse effect is not to reduce the risk but to transfer it. This happens when super-cautious employers hold back expats and push local staff to take their place. Between 80 and 90% of those killed or injured are nationals. They are less well protected, paid and insured, and their families are compensated less generously. At a time of numerous debates on “aid for decolonization”, this raises uncomfortable ethical questions.

In any case, neither the laws nor the tools guarantee security if the foundation of trust that underpins humanitarian action is eroded. Research indicates widespread suspicion of the motives and practices of international humanitarianism. This is not helped by disinformation campaigns and conspiracy theorists.

Unfortunately, sometimes there is a substance behind the smoke that plagues the minds of the public. For example, security agents under the guise of a bogus humanitarian vaccination program succeeded in killing Osama bin Laden. According to the Guardian’s investigation, the vaccination was a blanket to obtain his family’s DNA while gathering intelligence to establish whether bin Laden actually lived in the compound. It was not used to bring soldiers into the compound during the actual killing mission.

But this endangered normal vaccinators and compromised polio eradication in Pakistan. In neighboring Afghanistan, joint military-civilian “hearts and minds” operations have exposed aid workers and their beneficiaries to Taliban attacks. There is a polarized debate among humanitarians about the suitability of armed escorts for convoys and relief operations.

The humanitarian mission depends on open access anywhere to anyone who desperately needs it. But this consensus is undermined when there is a perception of double standards that betray the fundamental humanitarian principles of humanity, neutrality and impartiality.

For example, the UN Security Council clashed over cross-border access to Syria, while Tigray’s 5.2 million hungry, injured and displaced people have yet to received formal attention from the UN Security Council or the African Union.

Appeals for global humanitarian assistance are often skewed in favor of crises that take on political or public importance and not on the objective basis of need. In such circumstances – when humanitarian aid is used by world powers for political ends – and the hard-pressed victims of brutality cannot be assured of fair treatment, why should aid workers be especially respected and protected?

Meanwhile, amid a growing culture of impunity, fighters are emboldened to misbehave as there are rarely prosecutions and sanctions for violations of humanitarian law. This is a direct risk for aid workers in the wrong place.

Of course, every aid worker lost in the crossfire of conflict is a tragedy. When they are deliberately targeted, it is an outrage. But, given the inconsistencies and discontent around modern humanitarian policies and practices, what is remarkable is not the number of deaths but their relative rarity.

It seems that the protection of true humanitarians ultimately rests on the integrity of their actions, underpinned by a universal and instinctive belief in the sanctity of humanitarian work. Undermining this by manipulating the humanitarian enterprise for other purposes is the greatest risk facing all Good Samaritans.

Mukesh Kapila does not work, consult, own stock or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has not disclosed any relevant affiliation beyond his academic appointment.

By Mukesh Kapila, Professor of Global Health and Humanitarian Affairs, University of Manchester