Moria’s male refugees need help just as much as anyone else

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This text first appeared on the ISS blog on Global Development and Social Justice (BLISS), and is re-posted here. You may access the original post by clicking this link. Dorothea Hilhorst is Professor of Humanitarian Aid and Reconstruction at the International Institute of Social Studies of Erasmus University Rotterdam, and a PRIO Global Fellow.

Leave No One Behind. Photo: Caratelllo via Flickr

Camp Moria, housing 13,000 refugees mainly from Afghanistan, burnt down on 8 September. The tragedy has been long in the making—Europe has failed the migrants in Moria for years, forsaking them to a sub-human non-life in overcrowded refugee camps. Those of us who hoped that the dramatic fire would act as a wake-up call have seen little progress this past week in the wake of the fire. Europe, except for Germany, has so far responded in a cold and calculating way.

The little response we have seen has mainly focused on unaccompanied children and to a lesser extent on families. The Netherlands, for example, has offered to receive a few hundred families from Moria. The ‘offer’ is even less generous than it appears, as their number will be deducted from the total number of vulnerable refugees to be received by the Netherlands on the basis of a standing agreement with UN refugee agency UNHCR, much to the dismay of the agency.

The focus on unaccompanied children plays into the primary feelings of sympathy of many Europeans. A Dutch woman who started a campaign to collect sleeping bags for Lesbos told a reporter from the national news agency in the Netherlands: “I am a mother. When I see children sleep on the streets, I must do something, no matter what”. It may be natural for people to respond more to suffering children than to adolescents and adults, but surely politics should not only be dictated by motherly instincts alone?

It remains important to unpack the thin policy response to the fire in Moria. The focus on children and families makes a false distinction among refugees that makes it seem as if only children are vulnerable. It is a cheap, yet effective trick that puts 400 child refugees in the spotlight to distract the attention from the almost 13,000 others that live in similar squalid conditions.

Unfortunately, we have landed ourselves in a time where official politics are not guided by cherished and shared institutions like the refugee convention, which stipulates that people fleeing from war are entitled to be heard in an asylum procedure and, while the procedure is pending, received in dignified circumstances. Instead, policies seem cynically oriented towards one goal only: deterrence. The underlying idea of policy comes across as something along the lines of “[l]et 13,000 people suffer in front of as many cameras as possible so that desperate people will refrain from crossing the Mediterranean to seek shelter and asylum in the affluent countries of Europe”.

While 13,000 people suffer, the gaze of Europe singles out several hundred children for our solidarity. The distinction between these children and the other refugees rests on two equally weak arguments.

Firstly, it is implied that children are more vulnerable than other refugees. Whereas this is true in some respects, the level of despair and hopelessness experienced by all people in Moria is shocking. During my visit to Lesbos last year, aid workers told me that many refugees in Moria—children, adolescents and adults—suffer from a triple trauma. The first one was caused by the violence that triggered their escape, the second by the long passage to Europe and the crossing of the sea, and, finally, new trauma arising from the dismal conditions in the camp, the permanent state of insecurity, and the lack of future prospects. A vast majority of the people in Moria qualify to be seriously considered in asylum procedures because they fled from the violence of war and are extremely vulnerable.

Secondly, the focus on children leans on an idea of ‘deserving’ versus ‘undeserving’ refugees. Children cannot be blamed for their situation and are presumed innocent. The same applies to women in the eyes of most people. Adult men, and especially single (young) men, on the other hand, are looked at with a multitude of suspicions. Men are associated with violence and often suspected to be culprits rather than victims of war. They are also distrusted as they may be associated with sexual violence against women that is indeed widespread, but certainly does not hold true for all men. Finally, they don’t solicit feelings of sympathy because they are considered strong and capable of managing their own survival. Or worse, they are considered fortune seekers instead of bare survivors of war.

However, it is a myth that men should not deserve our sympathy! In situations of war, men are more likely than women to be exposed to violence – killing, torture, arbitrary arrest, or forced subscription in a regular or rebel army. Traumatized and destitute, they find themselves in a situation where they do not qualify for many of the aid programmes that are based on the same gender biases and reserve their resources for women and children. Quite a lot of young men see no other option than to prostitute themselves in order to survive.

Singling out unaccompanied children therefore is delusional. It seems to be designed to placate the large numbers of Europeans who want to act in solidarity with refugees. Our politicians keep telling us that social support for refugees has dried up, but while they listen in fear to right-wing populists, they are blind to the wish of equally large constituencies that want to welcome refugees.

As we are left in anger and shame, let us not step into the false dichotomy of deserving/undeserving refugees. Policy should be guided by legislation, not by false distinctions that are based on and reinforce popular sentiments. All refugees in Moria, irrespective of their gender or age, should be able to tell their story while being sheltered in dignity. All these stories need to be heard in proper asylum procedures—without prejudice.

The dramatic effects of covid-19 on everyday life in Gadarif

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This text first appeared on the Chr. Michelsen Institute website, and is re-posted here. You may access the original post by clicking this link. Professor Hussein Sulieman is Director of the Centre for Remote Sensing & GIS, and Professor at the Faculty of Agricultural and Environmental Sciences, University of Gandarif.

A pastoralist family in southern Gadarif trekking their cattle herd to a watering point. Photo: Hussein Sulieman

Gadarif in Eastern Sudan has been one of the country’s covid-19 hotspots. Precarious food supplies and lacking border control could mean that the chances of containing the pandemic are slim.

When the covid-19 pandemic peaked in Sudan in April/May, Gadarif was number three on the list of the regions with the most covid-19 cases in the country. Up until a nationwide lockdown was implemented in June, the virus had been able to spread relatively easily in the entire region.  In late June, the government issued several orders to reduce the lockdown and the curfew. At the same time, they warned about the risks of a second wave and strongly urged people to take precautions and practice social distancing. But such requests are only useful if people actually have the opportunity to adhere to the advise they are given. Does Gadarif have the infrastructure it takes to succeed or is the easing of lockdown restrictions a disaster coming?

Why did Gadarif become acovid-19 hotspot?
Gadarif’s 265 km border with Ethiopia has made the state vulnerable to the spread of covid-19. The total lack of cooperation between the two countries when it comes to controlling and managing the covid-19 pandemic has become abundantly clear, and made matters even worse for Gadarif. Whenthe federal government in Sudan declared a public health emergency on 16 March 2020 and closed all airports, ports and land crossings, Ethiopia’s international airports remained open. Therefore, many stranded Sudanese citizens who wanted out of the country took advantage of the situation by flying to one of the international airports in Ethiopia, travel to the border in cars and then cross the border to Gadarif. Many of them stayed in Gadarif for quite a while and mingled with people while looking for a way to get smuggled home (as travelling between states was prohibited by that time). People entering Gadarif through the border was not the sole reason for the wide social spread of covid-19 in the region. People fleeing Khartoum and coming back to Gadarif when the rumours of a lockdown started also contributed to spreading covid-19 in Gadarif.

Poverty exacerbates the spread of covid-19
Covid-19 cannot be isolated from the general political situation and economic crisis in Sudan and Gadarif. The fluid and fragile political situation stopped the government in Gadarif from enforcing many of the orders and restrictions that were issued to control the pandemic. Also, the promises of the government to support vulnerable groups through the Zakat Chamber did not come to reality. The lack of essential goods complicates everything. Large crowds gathered in front of pharmacies and bakeries is a common sight. It is hard to adhere to guidelines about social distancing when people have to queue up just to get hold of bread. This already bad situation is accelerated by the closing of inter-state traffic and restrictions on intra-city movement. Loss of income due to the complete lockdown, combined with ever rising prices of necessities substantially increase poverty of people in Gadarif. This has mainly happened to daily wage basis workers who have now lost their household income. In many neighbourhoods in Gadarif, groups of youth and Resistance Committees have done a great effort and played significant role in gathering donations to support vulnerable households during Ramadan and in Eid.

The covid-19 virus has also exacerbated acute malnutrition in vulnerable households in Gadarif. Food security has been dramatically reduced and access to healthcare has been limited. Covid-19 has increased the burden on a health system that is already suffering from three decades of neglect by the former regime.

Despite the health authorities’ stern calls to avoid big gatherings, several protest marches have taken place in Gadarif. The political tension in the area has risen as a result of attacks by Ethiopian militias in the Sudanese territory during the last week of May. Several marches and demonstrations were organized in Gadarif, where people asked for an effective response from the government. Similar marches and protests where large crowds came together took place on June 30. The organization of demonstrations and sit ins have become a major political tool in the hands of people who demand services and rights. On such occasions, social distancing is virtually always ignored.

Seasonal agricultural activities may be affected
In the context of the current covid-19 emergency, increasing attention has been devoted to the possible effects that mobility restrictions may have on supplies from the agricultural sector. Gadarif State has the largest mechanized rain-fed agricultural land in Sudan. This sector provides the bulk of food needed not only by people in the Gadarif, but also by many others across the country. The rain-fed agricultural sector in Gadarif covers about 4.2 million hectares of land. Normally, farmers start their preparations prior to the rainy season in April and May. The preparations include dry season soil working and plowing, routine maintenance of machinery and reparation of field equipment and other activities. The current restrictions have made life hard for the farmers who depend on being able to stick to a calendar that they know work.

The restrictions have also made life harder for the pastoralist groups in Gadarif. They rely on daily and seasonal mobility to manage environmental variability and access resources and markets. April and May correspond to the end of the hot dry season, when fodder and water reserves are depleted and labour demands are high.  Emergency lockdown measures such as restricted movement have disrupted the migration patterns of the pastoralists, creating difficulties for their preparations for the rainy season.

The coming couple of weeks will be a make or break for the agriculture in Gadarif. Weeding season is coming up, with an acute demand for labour. Each year, thousands of immigrant labourers from Ethiopia and other parts of Sudan arrive in Gadarif to work during the weeding and harvesting season, and the agricultural sector is totally dependent on them. Unless the government comes up with comprehensive measures that can balance the need for seasonal workers with the risk of hosting large numbers of immigrant labourers, the agricultural sector in Gadarif may take a severe blow.

Ensuring that there are workers at hand for the upcoming weeding season, and that the farmers can resume their activities when they are supposed to is crucial for a successful harvest. So is transportation of agricultural inputs to the fields. Therefore, farmers have recently used their power (especially large-scale farmers) to push the government to an early lift of restrictions and exceptions for companies and shops in local markets in Gadarif. During the first week of June, the government in Gadarif issued a local order that will make the upcoming season easier for the farmers. Nevertheless, some think that it is too little too late. The covid-19 restrictions may turn out to have had a crushing effect on the production of agricultural products in Gadarif.

Fighting racism and decolonizing humanitarian studies: toward mindful scholarship

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This text first appeared on Bliss, and is re-posted here. You may access the original post by clicking this link. Dorothea Hilhorst is Professor of Humanitarian Aid and Reconstruction at the International Institute of Social Studies of Erasmus University Rotterdam, and a PRIO Global Fellow.

Photo: International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA).

Addressing racism and decolonizing humanitarian studies is urgent, and as scholars we need to step up our efforts. Partnerships between scholars and conflict-affected communities are as unequal as ever, and the disparities between humanitarian studies in the global North and global South remain large. Dorothea Hilhorst here introduces the importance of localization in humanitarian studies that will be discussed in an upcoming workshop on 20 August, highlighting the need for equal partnerships and meaningful participation, as well as continuous debate to move beyond quick fixes in addressing structural and persistent inequalities.

Triggered by recent renewed attention to racism and worldwide protests urging change, the lid placed on racism in the humanitarian aid sector has been blown off. Last year’s international meeting of ALNAP concluded that inequality and discrimination in the humanitarian aid sector are a reality, and threatens its core foundation, namely the principle of humanity that views all people in equal terms. Recent weeks have seen many excellent blogs about racism in the sector and how resorting to arguments centring on capacities often obscure racist practices.

Yet racism in humanitarian studies is rarely mentioned. As scholars, we are ready to lay bare the fault lines in the humanitarian sector, but what about our own practices? It is time to address racism and decolonize humanitarian studies, too!

Turning our gaze inward

Anthony Giddens spoke of the double hermeneutic between social science and society, which co-shape each other’s understanding of the world and adopt each other’s vocabulary. In the relatively small and applied community of humanitarian studies, the double hermeneutic between academia and the field is more than discursive. Humanitarian studies can be seen to mimic many of the characteristics of its subject of research. Problems with humanitarian action are thus likely reproduced in the scholarly community that focuses on humanitarianism.

Racism-related problems with humanitarian studies can be grouped in two clusters:

First, the organization of humanitarian studies leads to a field dominated by scholars from the Global North. While scholars critically follow attempts of the sector to localize aid in an attempt to reduce racism through increasing ownership of aid processes, humanitarian studies itself may be criticized for being centred in the Global North. Adjacent domains of disaster studies and refugee studies[i] have faced similar critiques.

Research and educational institutes are mainly found in the global North, and rarely in the Global South where most humanitarian crises occur. The picture is less skewed with regards to disasters related to natural hazards, where we find many leading institutes in the Global South. However, faculties and courses dealing with humanitarianism in the Global South are scarce (see the global directory of the International Humanitarian Studies Associations for exceptions). Reasons include the dire lack of attention to higher education in donor programmes focusing on conflict-affected countries, making it almost impossible to find funding for such programmes[ii]. In 2016, at the World Humanitarian Summit, participants drafted a set of ethical commitments called for, among other things, more space for scholars and communities from crisis-affected countries (IHSA, 2016). Three years later, signatories admitted to a lack of progress which they largely attributed to structural disincentives for collaboration in their universities.

Moreover, relations between northern and southern institutions rarely attain the nature of equal partnership[iii]. The best many southern universities can usually hope for is to become a poorly paid partner that has no say in the agenda of the research and whose role is limited to data gathering. The possibility of co-authoring may not even be mentioned. I have followed closely how a gender and development institute in DRC, built around four women PhD holders, could easily find work as a sub-contractor for research, but once they developed their own agenda and proposals, donors were not interested and preferred to rely on Northern NGOs or UN agencies.

The picture becomes even direr when we take into account ethics dumping, when risks are offloaded on local researchers. Many universities in the north have adopted restrictive measures and don’t allow researchers to work in ‘red zones’. These researchers then rely on remote research and use local researchers to collect the data. One scholar told me at a conference how frustrated he was that his university did not allow him to enter a conflict area. He took residence at the border where he could regularly meet his research assistants, who gathered his data at their own risk. His frustration concerned his own impossibility to engage with the research, not the fate of these assistants! He had not considered involving the researchers in the analysis or inviting them as co-authors.

Second, methodologies and the ethics of relating to the research participants whose lives we study are problematic. Humanitarian studies is seen to be extractive, blighted by 1) a culture of direct data gathering through fieldwork and interviews at the expense of secondary data, leading to overly bothering crisis-affected communities with research; 2) a lack of feedback opportunities to communities, who see researchers come and go to obtain data and rarely, if ever, hear from them again; and 3) the assumption that participatory methods are not possible in conflict-affected areas because it is feared that social tensions will be reproduced in the research process. It is also assumed that people facing precarity and risks may have no interest in deep participation in research.

Deep participation does not mean quick and dirty participation in data gathering, such as participation in focus-group discussions where researchers can quickly move in and out of the lives of communities. Meaningful interactive research involves partners and participants as much as possible in every stage of the research[iv]. There have, however, been positive examples of participatory research in crisis-affected areas[v], and it is time that we build on these experiences and advance this work.

Thus, racism and decolonization debates have implications for methodology. Pailey critically noted that ‘the problem with the 21st-century “scholarly decolonial turn” is that it remains largely detached from the day-to-day dilemmas of people in formerly colonised spaces and places’. Similarly, Tilley[vi] argued that decolonization means ‘doing research differently’ – equally and collaboratively.

Of course, there are also reasons for caution with participatory methods that may be more pronounced in humanitarian crises. First, social realities are, in many ways, influenced by (governance) processes happening elsewhere, beyond immediate observation. Second, participatory methods may be prone to identifying outcomes that reflect the biases of the research facilitators (facipulator effects) and/or political elites participating in the process. Third, participatory processes risk feeding into existing tensions and creating harm. Research in crisis-affected areas may entail more risks and tends to be more politicized compared with other research.

It is therefore important to build on positive experiences while maintaining a critical dialogue on the possibilities of participatory research in humanitarian studies. As scholars, we need to work hard to break down the disincentives, to work towards equal partnerships, and to develop more participatory methodologies that treat conflict-affected communities as competent and reflexive agents that can participate in all aspects of the research process.

The environments of humanitarian studies are highly politicized and complex, and there are no quick fixes for our collaborations and methodologies. Thus, while stepping up our efforts, we also need to rely on the core of the academe: continuous debate and critically reflection on how we can enhance partnership for ethical research in humanitarian studies.

Inspired? Join the IHSA/NCSH webinar on Thursday 20 August, 11-12 CET.

This blog was written at the start of a 5-year research programme on humanitarian governance, aiming to decolonize humanitarian studies. The project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme, project 884139.

[i] Sukarieh, M., & Tannock, S. (2019). Subcontracting Academia: Alienation, Exploitation and Disillusionment in the UK Overseas Syrian Refugee Research Industry. Antipode, 51(2), 664–680.

[ii] In 2016, at the World Humanitarian Summit, participants drafted a set of ethical commitments that called for, among other things, more space for scholars and communities from crisis-affected countries (IHSA, 2016). Three years later, signatories admitted to a lack of progress, which they largely attributed to structural disincentives for collaboration in their universities.

[iii] Cronin-Furman, K., & Lake, M. (2018). Ethics Abroad: Fieldwork in Fragile and Violent Contexts. PS – Political Science and Politics, 51(3), 607–614. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1049096518000379

[iv] Voorst, R. van and D. Hilhorst (2018) ‘Key Points of Interactive Research: An Ethnographic Approach to Risk’. In A. Olofsson and Jens O. Zinn Researching Risk and Uncertainty. Methodologies, Methods and Research Strategies. Palgrave Macmillan, Cham, pp 53-77

[v] Haar, G. van der, Heijmans, A., & Hilhorst, D. (2013). Interactive research and the construction of knowledge in conflict-affected settings. Disasters, 37(SUPPL.1), 20–35. https://doi.org/10.1111/disa.12010

[vi] Tilley, L. (2017). Resisting Piratic Method by Doing Research Otherwise. Sociology, 51(1), 27–42. https://doi.org/10.1177/0038038516656992

Israeli annexation plan will spark catastrophe for besieged Palestinians: the world must act

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Dr. Ghassan Elkahlout is Head of the MSc. Program in Conflict Management and Humanitarian Action at the Doha Institute for Graduate Studies.

IDF paratroopers in 2018. Photo: Israeli Defense Force via Flickr

As the world fixates on the novel coronavirus crisis, the Israeli government has inflicted a not so novel disaster on the Palestinians: the annexation of territories in the West Bank. A unilateral step amplifying the predicament present in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, there is no doubt that the seemingly ceaseless conflict will have significant and grave consequences.

As a continuation of the “Deal of the Century” presented by the U.S.A earlier this year, the Prime Minister of Israel has repeatedly declared his intention to annex up to 30% of the West Bank from July 1st, with his sights set on the Jordan Valley and many of the illegal Israeli settlements throughout the region. His justification is that it’s merely an extension of sovereignty.  

The Palestinian Authority condemned Netanyahu’s plan and promised an array of measures including severing funding to the unlivable Gaza Strip and cutting the salaries of thousands of officers and clerks. In support, Qatar, one of the Strip’s major humanitarian donors, has announced it may suspend financial aid to the Strip. These measures aim to hold Israel responsible as a military occupier, in an effort to deter the annexation plans. However, the consequence of such interventions would be catastrophic for Gaza, pushing it over the brink into eventual collapse and driving millions of Palestinians further into the abyss of occupation and blockade.

What’s next for the impoverished Gaza Strip?

Cutting salaries to PA’s servants and stopping humanitarian aid to Gaza will worsen the already bleak situation.  Over 70,000 Palestinians in Gaza would lose their livelihoods. This would be disastrous against the backdrop of existing financial crisis faced by the main United Nations agency working in the Strip, the UNRWA – which this year received only one-third of its $1.2 billion dollar budget, the lowest raised in 70 years according to Elizabeth Campbell, UNRWA’S director in Washington. Many people will plunge beneath the extreme poverty line, joining the almost 38% of the population already below it. With 70% of Gazans already food insecure, the UN predict that 1 million people may go hungry.  

Gaza has been in dire humanitarian crisis for the last two decades. The 14-years Israeli-imposed blockade has been a vacuum of hope and stability, with devastating impacts for Palestinians. According to the World Bank, unemployment has risen to 53% (67% for young Gazans) . Since 2007, the gross domestic product of Gaza has shrunk by 50%.

Efforts to ease the suffering in Gaza has been regularly strangled.  Many humanitarian actors adopt a ‘no contact policy, minimising their interactions with the de-facto ruling party of Gaza, Hamas. Major humanitarian organisations are forced to operate in an environment constructed to keep them out; a significant number cannot deliver their humanitarian programming. Those that can enter the dwindling humanitarian space face the threat of being accused of funding terrorism.

Without an immediate change, supporting the impoverished population will become even more of a mammoth task, with little resources to support such efforts and vital international backing absent. Inevitably, many Gazans will feel as though violence is their only resort. Is Israel and the international community prepared for the prospect of another outbreak of a third uprising?

 The international responsibility

The rise of social and economic adversities across the Middle East has caused nations to turn towards the Palestinian cause. However, Palestine, and Gaza in particular, has never before experienced such humanitarian turmoil. As the world faces a unified struggle against Covid-19, it is crucial that the humanitarian crisis in Gaza is not neglected. Immediate action is required to stave off catastrophe. The international community must act with rigor and intent to alleviate Gaza’s economic and social crisis. Humanitarian action has been regularly implemented in Gaza – but this is not enough. The international community should exert pressure on Israel to stop any unilateral steps. The stagnant peace process must be revived.  However,  continued lack of political will to reach a solution provides a gloomy outlook on the political future of Palestinians. Nevertheless, the international community must strive to achieve the bare minimum, which is immediately providing effective humanitarian relief to the depleted Gaza strip. The clock is ticking. Gaza is on the verge of complete subsistence, never has the need for purposeful and resolute action been greater.

The Politics of Humanitarian Aid to Myanmar

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This text first appeared on PK Forum, and is re-posted here. You may access the original post by clicking this link. Marte Nilsen is Senior Researcher at Peace Research Institute Oslo (PRIO).

Women in a market in Myanmar. Photo: eGuide Travel CC BY

I felt like I had defeated the dictators when I walked out of Yangon’s Mingeladon airport for the first time, more than 20 years ago. Unnoticed, I had sneaked out of the que and avoided the mandatory exchange of three new, unfolded, and spotless 100-dollar bills into the FEC monopoly money that the Myanmar military regime made foreigners use. Before arrival, I had gone many rounds with myself considering the ethical dilemma of visiting Burma, or Myanmar, under the repressive regime of the generals. I had seen the leaflets and posters all over Northern Thailand, asking tourists not to go. I knew about the brutal crackdown of the student uprising ten years earlier. I knew about the civil wars, the humanitarian suffering, and about Aung San Su Kyi in house arrest. Yet, I decided to go. I had to see for myself.

Myanmar was something else. The tea leaf salads, the Shan noodles, the cheroot cigars, the green tea and the palm sugar jaggery. Getting conned by black market money changers down at Sule Pagoda. Listening to cheesy Burmese love songs to the tunes of Metallica in coffeeshops serving black coffee with lime. The blasting karaoke on overnight busses. Getting lectured, in secrecy, by school teachers and tour guides about politics and about the radio that was broadcasting from my home town in Oslo. The strange feeling of normality interrupted by the large red billboards in white writing with propaganda from the military regime, reminding me about the repression and the hardship.

Returning to Myanmar 14 years later, it was like arriving to a different country. T-shirts and shoulder bags picturing the Lady was sold openly on the streets. A booming civil society and people speaking freely about politics, about the war and the suffering, and about the peace process. Dissidents returning from exile. In October 2012, together with our local partner, PRIO organized an academic conference about democratization and peace in Myanmar – the first of its kind in many decades. Myanmar was opening up, but international actors engaged in heated arguments and disputes about the reliability of the reforms and the sincerity of the generals.

Building up since the response to Cyclone Nargis in 2008, the politics of aid to Myanmar was reaching a peak of tension. Anyone providing humanitarian relief for people in Myanmar would have to consider the political implications of their approach and be prepared to be met by harsh criticism for their stance. Were any operations dealing with the illegitimate regime in Naypyidaw consequently undermining the struggle for democracy and minority rights, or were such concerns trumped by the humanitarian imperative of providing assistance wherever it is needed? 

Was it more effective to pressure the military with isolation and international sanctions, or did these sanctions only hurt the people of Myanmar? Could support to civil society groups inside Myanmar lead to a transformation of Myanmar society and to political changes in the long run, or would this strategy only benefit existing elites with close links to the regime? These were the kind of questions that characterized the heated debate. The different positions were strongly held by the various aid providers and advocacy groups, and they were based on competing theories of change. 

In the first years of the transition since 2011, I followed closely the work and the different approaches of the three Norwegian organizations with the largest operations in Myanmar and along the Thai-Myanmar border – The Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), the Norwegian People’s Aid (NPA) and the Norwegian Church Aid (NCA). 

Norway had become an engine in the international shift from sanctions and isolation to engagement, and initiated a number of humanitarian programs inside Myanmar to support the peace process and the reforms. Some of these initiatives were operated by NRC and NPA, while NCA expressed concern against the initiatives and feared that they would be implemented at the expense of support to refugees on the Thai-Myanmar border. In 2017 I visited some of the key humanitarian projects of these three Norwegian organizations in Myanmar and along the border, and I conducted interviews with staff, partner organizations and aid recipients. 

In my study I found that these three organizations exhibited characteristics from three competing humanitarian approaches that are commonly found among aid providers in Myanmar. While NRC strived to operate with a neutral approach aiming to secure humanitarian principles without pursuing any other political agenda, NPA cultivated a more pragmatic approach aiming to work with the government to open up space for local organizations. 

This approach was the result of a clear political thinking that the humanitarian suffering can only be stopped through a transformation of the Myanmar Society from below. This political thinking was largely shared by NCA, but while NPA saw a value in expanding its support within Myanmar, NCA maintained an idealist approach aiming to support exile organizations to push for human rights and seek to hold international donors, the Myanmar government, and the military accountable for their actions. 

One of the most difficult dilemmas for aid providers working in authoritarian and repressive states involved in violent conflict is the trade-off between getting humanitarian access in the short term and securing human rights for the future. To gain access to the areas where people are in desperate need of outside assistance, humanitarian providers need to bargain and compromise with the regimes that cause the suffering. Where the line between confrontation and collaboration should be drawn is a constant source of debate among aid providers. 

The controversies in Myanmar concerned two strategic divides: One between staying neutral (NRC) and having a political agenda (NPA, NCA); and one between maintaining a distance to the old regime (NCA) and seeking careful engagement (NRC, NPA). However, I would argue that despite the competing strategies, the different approaches among humanitarian actors have, unintentionally, contributed to a division of labour, enabling them to address a variety of Myanmar’s humanitarian needs. 

Achieving peace, development and democracy in a country like Myanmar, with its complex conflict dynamics and history of injustice and repression, is bound to be a long and winding road, involving a multitude of actors and engagement strategies. There is no simple recipe to progress. My first visit to Myanmar back in 1998, and the journeys of other travellers at the time, didn’t do much either way concerning democratization or repression. 

But it did lead to some incredible meetings between people with different experiences and references, to meaningful exchanges of ideas and insights, and to long-lasting friendships. Similarly, it is not the different approaches of various aid providers that is going to determine the success of Myanmar’s peace process or path to democracy and prosperity. That will be the struggle of the Myanmar people. However, the diversity of support that humanitarian actors can provide to people in desperate need and to people with aspirations, abilities and commitment to transform their country and their communities has been crucial in the past and will remain important in the years to come.

In a critical moment for Yemen, donor fatigue can have disastrous consequences

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About the authors: Dr. Ghassan Elkahlout is Head of the MSc. Program in Conflict Management and Humanitarian Action at the Doha Institute for Graduate Studies. Mr Belal Abdo is a former Yemeni diplomat, and holds a Master degree in Conflict Management and Humanitarian Action.

WFP food distibution in Raymah. Photo: Julien Harneis via Flickr

Heartbreakingly for those of us still watching, Yemen continues to descend further into humanitarian catastrophe. Now the scene of the worst humanitarian disaster on the planet, the country has been spiraling deeper into suffering since the war began in 2015 and the ongoing cholera epidemic took hold the following year. The economy in ruins, healthcare system close to collapse, and infrastructure devastated after years of conflict, a staggering 80% of the population need some form of humanitarian assistance or protection – some 24 million people. And now those people, already teetering on the edge of survival, face Covid-19, leading the head of the United Nations Refugee Agency to warm that the deadly virus could ‘delete Yemen from maps all over the world’.

Limited resources despite deepening crisis

Despite the deepening crisis, humanitarian aid operations in Yemen remain critically underfunded.  The UN warns that 30 of its 41 programmes in the country will have to close in few weeks. Some of the resources pledged last year have not yet materialized, causing financial distress to critical life-saving humanitarian programmes. What is more, humanitarian organizations working in Yemen face tremendous challenges. According to reports, they are threatened if they do not make payouts to warring parties, who are alleged to use the funds to finance their war effort. Humanitarian workers also face threats and restrictions, ratcheting up security concerns and limitations on their movements. During recent years, humanitarian aid is said to have been stolen from humanitarian organizations, in particular the World Food Programme, which declared that it will suspend its operations if the authorities continue to impose restrictions on the programme, their aid personnel, or their warehouses. Last year, Yemeni activists adopted a campaign calling for further transparency by UN agencies, especially in relation to using and disbursing funds for Yemen. Some also levelled accusations of corruption and the squandering of huge portions of funds on international travel, higher salaries for unqualified international staff, and diversion of aid money to warring parties. Activists claimed that only a small portion of funds was reaching those in need – in some cases, less than 30%.

“Pledges will not save lives unless they are paid” 

The dire situation in Yemen has prompted the UN to call, jointly with Saudi Arabia, for a high-level pledging conference for the response to the crisis. The conference convened via an online platform on June 2, 2020 and was attended by around 125 countries and international organizations, UN agencies, and non-governmental organizations. The UN Secretary-General, António Guterres, urged donor countries to pledge generously and to transfer the resources as quickly as possible so as major humanitarian aid operations can be maintained. Some 30 pledging announcements were made, amounting to $1.35 billion; around $1 billion less than that promised at last year’s pledging conference. This leaves a huge shortfall in the $2.41 billion needed to cover the UN’s basic humanitarian programmes in the country for the next six months.  UN Undersecretary General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator, Mark Lowcock, added that “pledges will not save lives unless they are paid”.

Of the pledges announced, Saudi Arabia, which leads the coalition, is to contribute half a billion dollars – the biggest contribution for humanitarian situation in 2020 in Yemen. About $300 million will go to the UN agencies, and $200 million will support humanitarian programmes run by King Salman Humanitarian Aid and Relief Centre. Although other Arab countries participated in the Conference, they have not pledged any financial support.  The United Arab Emirates, which is a key actor in the coalition and which directly or indirectly controls some areas in Yemen, has not pledged any money, choosing to refer to funding disbursed to UN agencies or politically charged Yemeni-run organizations. Qatar, among the top ten major donors to OCHA and humanitarian action around the world, did not participate in the conference due to circumstances relating to its withdrawal from the coalition, while Kuwait, surprisingly, did not commit.

Yemen’s hour of need

It is perhaps understandable that donors feel exhausted and despondent, as we see in the language of figures or numbers and as those who once supported Arab Spring issues turn away to focus instead on problems such as coronavirus and the global economic recession. But it comes at a time when Yemen needs more desperately than ever a political settlement which brings warring parties to the negotiating table with the support of Arab countries and the international community.  Donors –– especially those who contributed to what is now the world’s largest humanitarian crisis –– must shoulder their responsibilities by providing humanitarian aid and contributing to post-conflict reconstruction. History will not forgive them if they do not.

COVID-19 could kill off Muslim charities in the West that fail to adapt

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About the authors: Dr. Ghassan Elkahlout is Head of the MSc. Program in Conflict Management and Humanitarian Action at the Doha Institute for Graduate Studies. Mr. Omar Gamal holds a MSc. in Conflict Management and Humanitarian Action, and is a humanitarian partnership consultant.

Boy in camp. Photo: Danish Muslim Aid via Flickr

Humanitarian organisations have issued dire warnings about the potentially catastrophic impact of COVID-19 in countries already in the throes of crisis. Calling for $2.01 billion to fund a coordinated humanitarian response to COVID-19, the United Nations priorities countries gripped by food insecurity, including Yemen, Syria, South Sudan, Afghanistan and Bangladesh. Muslim charities are on the frontline in this global health crisis. As national non-governmental organizations they are among the first to reach communities with lifesaving aid. And as international charities, they are providing vital support to vulnerable people who who endure precarious conditions in camps and urban centres.

Incomes drop as needs rise

However, Muslim charities face unprecedented challenges as the coronavirus crisis strangles fundraising and threatens lifesaving programmes in the field – at precisely the moment they’re needed most. Western-Muslim charities.  Lockdowns imposed to save lives in the West have prevented Muslim charities from carrying out their usual fundraising in mosques and through public events. Their incomes are dropping precisely as the humanitarian needs are rising. Many are responding to COVID in the countries in which they fundraise, as well as to complicated crises in Muslim majority countries including Yemen, Syria and Myanmar. They are also providing a lifeline to those affected by largely neglected crises such as in Gaza and Mali.

New ways of humanitarian fundraising

According to the United Nations, funding for humanitarian action has been falling short since 2009, exceeding $13 billion last year. The gap is the result of natural disasters and protracted conflicts such as in Yemen and Syria, and an increase in numbers of refugees and internally displaced people worldwide. Muslim charities are responding to many of these crises, with donations from Muslims making up a sizable proportion of their income. Muslims give sadaqa, voluntary charity, and obligatory alms-giving known as zakat, with many choosing to support programmes serving their local and national communities. However Muslim charities typically focus their humanitarian programming on the Global South, and so they lack implementing bodies in the west.

What’s more, COVID has left their usual donors with less money to give – according to the International Labor Organization (ILO), half of the world’s workers are now in danger of losing their jobs. In response, Muslim charities should develop implementing bodies and strengthen local charities in donor countries and use the opportunity to educate donors about the value of their economic empowerment programming.

As the world looks for ways in which to live with the virus, the ‘tried and tested’ fundraising activities on which many Muslim charities rely may be gone forever.  But without the outlays associated with putting on public events, combined with lower office running costs as staff in lockdown work from home and the expenditure on travel drops, savings can be made. Savvy charities will invest this cash in training staff in new ways of working, and in developing creative and resilient fundraising mechanisms.

Fundraising for sectors such as health or education, rather than countries, would give charities greater flexibility to respond where the needs are greatest. Concentrating on building brand affinity rather than promoting individual projects will boost donor retention. Drawing on volunteers to organise challenges, as an alternative to using alternative fundraising that would reduce costs and better engage donors.

Adapting project implementation

The virus is also presenting significant challenges to Muslim charities as they implement their humanitarian programmes. For example, some are currently distributing Ramadan food parcels, with budgets reaching $5 million or more. They are having to find ways of getting food supplies to vulnerable families while introducing social distancing measures to reduce the risk of spreading coronavirus. Many humanitarian projects are seeing their duration extended by up to 12 months, leaving vulnerable people without the interventions they so desperately need. It is unclear who will shoulder the additional cost of the extensions. Muslim international non-governmental organisations still have to run their field offices, and they have to find the money for unforeseen expenses such as face masks, hand sanitizer, and increased use of private transport. We estimate that the measures needed to protect staff from infection could see the cost of humanitarian action could rise by 15-25%.

Muslim charities must prepare teams to negotiate with donors about the increase in project costs, and to preserve the skills and expertise in their offices, consider reducing all staff salaries as an alternative to redundancies.

A heavy price

The Muslim charities that survive this global crisis will be those that swiftly adapt, and that invest in a new vision for fundraising post-COVID. Those that do not will themselves fall victim to COVID-19. And it will be the world’s poorest people who pay the price.

Ramadan and Social Responsibility During Coronavirus

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This text was originally published in Norwegian in Vårt Land and is-reposted here. A version of the post translated into English also appears as part of the PRIO blog series Beyond the COVID Curve. Translation by Fidotext.

Mosque in Grønland, Oslo. Photo: Oskar Seljeskog via Flickr

Muslims have just celebrated Eid al-Fitr, the festival that marks the end of Ramadan, the month of fasting. The month of fasting, which is demanding in itself, has been even harder this year with the current social distancing requirements. Usually the high point of each day would be gathering with family and friends to break the fast with the evening meal, known as iftar. This year these customary gatherings have not been possible in the same way as in other years, for Muslims across the world.

Religion and risk of infection

Places of worship, like other spaces where large numbers of people gather, were affected early on by the Covid-19 pandemic, and in some cases were early hotspots for spreading infection. A synagogue in New York, a church in the Philippines, and a mass religious gathering in Pakistan were all hotspots for spreading Covid-19 infection in early 2020.

In Norway, mosques were quick to shut their doors and take on an important role in efforts to stop the spread of infection by providing information and advice. Through their networks, mosques have reached out to people who were not easily reachable through the authorities’ established channels. Like for other religious leaders, the decision to ask the faithful to stay at home, away from mosques, has been difficult. In times of crisis, religious beliefs and rituals are important to many people. But the situation has demanded the opposite; not to gather, not to stand close together.

The social responsibility of Muslim leaders

Religious leaders have played a role in fighting coronavirus in many places. While some have promoted conspiracy theories and sown doubts about the true danger of the virus, religious leaders all over the world have contributed to preventing infection, many by putting their religious authority behind official infection-control measures. This is evidence of the social responsibility often taken on by religious leaders. This social responsibility has taken on a new form within the context of the Covid-19 pandemic, but simultaneously it is recognizable, perhaps especially for the enthusiasm with which most Muslims contribute to social initiatives during the month of Ramadan.

In recent months in Norway we have seen a series of initiatives designed to provide assistance through donations of money and food. For many Muslims, the month of fasting is a time of self-denial, for evaluating what one has and sharing it with people who have less. The month of fasting, and the festival of Eid al-Fitr at its end, is a time when many Muslims give a little extra. It is time to pay the annual religious alms, or zakat, comprising 2.5% of one’s total wealth accumulated over the year, which is used to combat poverty and help people to lead more dignified lives.

Coronavirus initiatives in Pakistan, Nigeria and Indonesia

Naturally, the pandemic has triggered a huge wave of social engagement among Muslims all over the world. We have followed developments in Pakistan, Nigeria and Indonesia, three countries included in our study of Muslim humanitarian actors. All three countries have been hit hard by Covid-19. Numbers of infections and fatalities are rising daily. Societies are locked down, with enormous economic consequences for millions of people who now have no jobs or incomes.

In all three countries, the government restrictions are subject to constant debate. Religious leaders and networks have great political influence, and are very important for social services. An effective response depends on religious leaders and organizations taking on responsibility.Pakistan has seen an enormous number of private initiatives. There is a long-standing and strong charitable tradition in Pakistan, through the distribution of money and food. This time, under lockdown, distributions have been mobilized through WhatsApp and social media.

In Nigeria, many of the country’s Muslim organizations have come together to coordinate local responses such as the distribution of food and other humanitarian items. Nationally, the Nigerian Interreligious Council (NIREC), which consists of Muslims and Christians, has organized a joint prayer initiative, intended partly as an expression of the common challenge presented by the pandemic.In Indonesia, religious leaders want to use Zakat funds to help mitigate the economic downturn caused by the pandemic. The leaders emphasize that this is about concern for one’s fellow humans, where seeing a neighbour starve is not a viable alternative, and they call on neighbourhoods to engage in mutual support.

A new UN partnership with Muslim humanitarian organizations?

Covid-19 has affected all of us. We still know little about how the pandemic will change our lives both across different places in the world. But we know already that it will affect some people worse than others, and that the impact will fall disproportionately on the most vulnerable. People who were already the most at risk, with the least access to healthcare and the fewest economic resources, are now those who are being hit hardest.

The coronavirus crisis has shown clearly the importance of everyone contributing, and everyone coming together. Global cooperation amongst different actors – the private and the public sector, secular and religious – has become more important than ever. This is precisely the point made in the UN’s Agenda 2030, which sets out 16 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). The global pandemic has lent new relevance to this agenda.

In order to tackle the problems which the pandemic is causing for the world’s poor, the UN wishes to enter into partnership with Muslim actors in aid as well as the Islamic-finance sector. Dealing with the coronavirus pandemic and its complex consequences will require international cooperation and global solutions. How, and to what extent, such new partnerships will function across existing lines of division, remains an important question.

Meanwhile, we send our best wishes for a happy Eid al-Fitr to those of you who are celebrating.

Peace in Afghanistan? Watch the militias

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This text first appeared on The New Humanitarian, and is re-posted here. You may access the original post by clicking this link. Astri Suhrke is a political scientist and Senior Researcher Emerita at the Chr. Michelsen Institute in Bergen, Norway. Antonio De Lauri is a Senior Researcher at the Chr. Michelsen Institute in Bergen, Norway.

An Afghan National Directorate of Security police stands guard in Helmand province in southwestern Afghanistan on 6 November 2012. Photo: Erik De Castro/REUTERS

The prospects of direct talks between Afghanistan’s government and the Taliban have raised cautious hopes after decades of conflict. But if there is to be a durable peace, then Afghanistan’s CIA-supported paramilitary forces must also be disbanded.

In February, the United States and the Taliban inked an agreement calling for US forces to withdraw, and for the Taliban not to support international terrorism. This treaty paves the way for the Taliban and the Afghan government to negotiate a comprehensive peace settlement, though this process has stalled for weeks.

Afghanistan has been cursed with foreign-financed militias, and the units supported and trained by the US Central Intelligence Agency are of special significance. The US-Taliban agreement does not include the activities of the CIA in Afghanistan. But the future of these militias – and their involvement in conflict, targeted killings, and political violence – cannot be left out of the conversation.

The agency has a long, torrid history in Afghanistan. As outlined in a recent report for the Costs of War Project, which researches and analyses the toll of post-9/11 wars, the CIA played a key role in the 1980s in American efforts to assist Afghan rebels known as mujahideen, who invoked the duty of holy warriors to fight Soviet forces and the Afghan communist government. Assistance included organising a mule-and-truck trade in arms and opium. 

The CIA took a lower profile in the country during the 1990s when the mujahideen and the Taliban fought for power, but a well-established local infrastructure enabled the agency to rapidly spring into action after the September 11, 2001 attacks. Operatives equipped with mobile phones and large bundles of dollar bills entered the country on a mission to mobilise Afghan militias. 

“Afghanistan has been cursed with foreign-financed militias, and the units supported and trained by the US Central Intelligence Agency are of special significance.”

Since then, the CIA has financed, trained, and worked closely with militias and special forces of Afghanistan’s intelligence agency – the National Directorate of Security, or NDS. These units function like death squads in secretive night raids often labelled simply as search operations.

The United Nations mission in Afghanistan, UNAMA, found at least 278 civilians were killed and dozens more injured in search operations last year – about three quarters of these were caused by NDS or other forces trained by the CIA.

This adds up to about six percent of recorded civilian deaths attributed to any side last year. But even these numbers are conservative; they include only cases the UN could document and do not include civilian casualties from airstrikes launched in support of search operations. 

Rights groups and journalists have also extensively documented targeted killings of civilians by CIA-supported units. For example, in October 2018, Human Rights Watch found evidence that an Afghan paramilitary unit raided a home in Rodat district of Nangarhar province, killing five members of one family, including an elderly woman and child. Similarly, at least four civilians were executed during a July 2019 raid on a medical clinic in Wardak province; HRW attributed the strike to an NDS unit.

The humanitarian toll is clear. But the very existence of these paramilitary squads has also contributed to Afghanistan’s continuing instability.

Since 2001, the fragmentation of military power has been a main reason for the country’s limited progress in rebuilding and strengthening the central state. Apart from the human rights issues, a peace agreement that allows CIA-supported paramilitary forces to continue operating outside the control of the state and the chain of command of its armed forces – as these units have been doing – would gravely undermine the prospects for a sustainable peace. Shielded from accountability by powerful foreign backers and protected by the country’s forbidding geography and complex social and political environment, the units could run a prolonged, under-the-radar dirty war, setting off a new spiral of violence. 

“The humanitarian toll is clear. But the very existence of these paramilitary squads has also contributed to Afghanistan’s continuing instability.”

Models for a good peace agreement that address this problem are readily available. Over the past three decades, almost all armed conflicts that ended in a compromise settlement have included agreements for the demobilisation and restructuring of armed forces – including paramilitary units and militias. The 1992 Chapultepec Agreement, which ended more than a decade of civil war in El Salvador, is one of the clearest examples: an entire section in the treaty’s first chapter deals with paramilitary bodies that were infamous for human rights violations. In unambiguous language, the treaty stipulates that paramilitary forces have no place in a state governed by the rule of law.

This was also the case in Afghanistan after 2001 when the UN launched an ambitious programme aimed at disarming armed groups or integrating them into regular armed forces. However, under pressure from renewed conflict, the programme folded soon after it began. 

This time around, disarming the CIA’s forces may be more difficult, even if the issue is covered in an eventual peace agreement. The CIA paramilitaries constitute a formidable set of actors in their own right. Given their highly paid and somewhat privileged status, they are unlikely to welcome a drastic reduction in pay that would accompany demobilisation or integration. If violence continues, which seems likely, the militias will be in high demand in the political marketplace. Well trained and well equipped, they may be reborn as private armies or “security guards” in the service of powerful individuals, or operate autonomously to prey on civilians and commercial sources by taxing local businesses and trade. Either possibility is in line with patterns of political violence in modern Afghan history.

The path forward is not simple. But the lessons from history – in Afghanistan and beyond – are clear. To attain a sustainable peace, externally supported paramilitary forces must be dealt with. The proper instruments are iron-clad formal obligations that are vigorously implemented.

“Is Mediterranean Search and Rescue a pull factor?” Or is that an irrelevant question?

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This blog series first appeared on the Border Criminologies blog, and is re-posted here. Pål Nesse is Senior Adviser at the Norwegian Refugee Council. This is the fifth and final instalment of the themed series on the humanitarian Search and Rescue, from the Nordic perspective.

Migrants in Lesbos. Photo: Amanda Nero/IOM

A few years back I participated in a moving ceremony outside the Maritime Museum in Oslo, where Vietnamese refugees unveiled a monument in appreciation of being rescued by Norwegian merchant ships in the South China Sea in the 1970s and 80s. In the first row were several retired captains, some of them in their nineties, sitting next to Vietnamese people that were rescued at their orders. They were life-saving heroes – and the many hundred saved were granted resettlement in Norway. Fortunately, I never heard anyone suggesting this was an unacceptable practice, as it was a pull factor for future Vietnamese migrants.

Since then, I have visited the Italian Coast Guard in Sicily, the crew on a Norwegian oil rig support ship that rescued 1,900 persons off the Libyan coast, fishermen and others plying the seas. They all referred to the duty of rescue as an “of course” practice, something they all adhere to.

In July last year, Germany requested European countries to join a “coalition of the willing” that would jointly share responsibility for those rescued in the Central Mediterranean – and support Italy’s policy change that again permitted disembarkation in Italy, without Italy solely being left the responsibility for those coming ashore. Eight European countries responded positively. Since then, more have joined. This is one of those few recent European occasions – where the shortage of pan-European consensus on refugees and migrants resulted in a constructive protection and responsibility sharing initiative.

As I write this, the Norwegian ship “Ocean Viking” has 407 migrants on board, rescued in the Mediterranean during the last week of January. The ship is chartered and operated by MSF (Doctors Without Borders) and SOS Mediterranée. Yet, various European governments, including my own, keeps warning against this NGO activity. They claim it constitutes a pull factor for African migration to Europe, contributing to more deaths at sea. 

Academics and news channels have countered this argument based on their research and interviews with the migrants and refugees themselves. NGOs operating rescue ships claim the same.  Migrants state they took the risk of leaving Libya to reach Europe by boat, irrespective of rescue ships in the area.

But isn’t the question of “pull factor” the wrong one to start with? Any forced displacement or voluntary migration intervention in countries of origin, transit countries or potential destinations may constitute a certain degree of push or pull – based on real or perceived options and opportunities for those on the move. Rescuing people from fragile or sinking boats at sea is a humanitarian imperative, practiced by coastal countries like Italy and Norway for centuries. Even if the boat used for the transport should never have left the port of origin due to its condition, incompetence of the crew or the weather forecast, that is irrelevant to the simple duty of rescue. 

Ask any sailor.