How the pandemic questions humanitarian aid

In early 2020, facing the COVID-19 pandemic, almost every country quickly took refuge in their sovereignty, closing their borders and restricting their population’s freedom of movement, in the vain hope of halting the spread of the virus. It clearly was not stopped, but other entities were. The ‘sans frontières’ organisations, humanitarian agencies and NGOs saw their international operations significantly reduced[1].

At the end of 2020, it is undeniable that the pandemic has had a negative impact on the humanitarian aid sector. I would like to highlight two particular challenges this sector now faces: the ‘localisation’ of humanitarian aid and the sustainability of its funding. I will conclude with the urgent need for humanitarian actors to tackle simultaneously another major challenge of our times: the climatic and environmental crises.

The ‘localisation’ of humanitarian aid

Having been underway for several decades, the ‘localisation’ of humanitarian aid moved to the next level in 2016, when it was established as a priority area of reform for the sector at the World Humanitarian Summit in Istanbul. Aid was to be ‘as local as possible, as international as necessary’[2]. However, apart from a few exceptions, the declarations of the major donors did not necessarily lead to any genuine impact. That was before the pandemic redistributed the cards in 2020, resolutely giving a central role to local organisations.

The first countries to be affected by COVID-19 were China, Iran and Italy. None of these countries is fertile ground for international humanitarian organisations; China and Iran, for whom the principle of sovereignty is key, generally do not allow humanitarian organisations, including UN agencies, onto their territory[3]. These three countries prioritized their own resources and organisations, such as their respective National Societies of the Red Cross and Red Crescent, while foreign organisations were mostly unable to provide assistance as they did not have access[4].

As the virus spread, the majority of countries quickly closed their borders, drastically reducing people’s mobility, including that of humanitarian experts who usually carry out ‘international missions’. Despite the global need for humanitarian programs, skills and expertise, particularly in the medical field, the closure of borders and the abrupt interruption of international travel challenged the very ethos of the ‘sans frontières’ movement, which had begun in the 1970s[5]. As it became impossible for people to travel and with a global shortage of the most important supplies, such as protective equipment (including masks), everyone was asked to do their best, wherever they were, and with whatever means were at hand. While numerous ‘sans frontières’ NGOs found themselves blocked, local organisations – particularly those who were already well established – were often granted recognition as essential services, being spared the travel restrictions that affected their international counterparts.

So, has this unprecedented pandemic sounded the death knell for international humanitarian aid? Probably not – thankfully. But it has no doubt given additional momentum to the growing call for localisation of aid, as formalised in Istanbul, which argues the many benefits offered by local organisations in the humanitarian domain.

In the majority of crises, such as disasters and mass population displacements, the initial hours are crucial. The usually faster response of local organisations, already present on the field even before the problems begin, is therefore critical[6]. ‘Local’ humanitarians understand from the inside the culture in which they are operating. They are familiar with local languages and dialects, the situation on the ground, and the genuine needs of the population. These all make them particularly effective and eliminate numerous costs (related to international travel, translation, etc.), thus allowing more resources to be allocated to providing assistance and saving lives. Today, the highest levels of expertise, such as emergency doctors, engineers, logisticians and accountants, can all be found everywhere, in the South as well as in the North. As such, how can the deployment of international staff rather than the use of local experts be justified, both financially and ethically?

Focusing on ‘local’ organisations is in keeping with the times and the idea that everyone should be able to meet their needs autonomously. This is underpinned by an insistence on the respect due to States’ sovereignty. Let us not be naive: the ‘localisation’ of humanitarian aid is no panacea; local actors are often at even greater risk than their international counterparts of being trapped by the demands of national or local politicians. Behind the demands for more local aid, there are also political and geopolitical interests (particularly in war-torn countries), and possibly also financial interests.

Yet, without a doubt, during this pandemic, local humanitarian actors have definitely gained momentum. It is highly probable that this will continue, not only because it reflects the general shift towards national sovereignty, but also because the often lower financial cost of local humanitarian organisations, compared to their ‘international’ counterparts, gives them a comparative advantage that is likely to persist.

Sustainable funding for international humanitarian aid

The overall cost of humanitarian aid and the fact that it is financed in such an unequal way by a small number of countries and regional organisations raises questions about the sustainability of its funding model. How can dwindling resources match the increasing needs? There is no doubt that humanitarian needs have exploded: from Afghanistan to Yemen, via Mozambique, Syria and Venezuela, there is a litany of crises, emergencies and needs, each more poignant than the last, ranging from ‘natural’ disasters to armed conflict, including new forms of confrontations and entrenched situations. To take just one example, in Yemen, it is estimated that 24.3 million people currently require assistance[7]. This conflict, which has lasted for six years, has exacerbated an already very difficult situation, devastating fragile health structures and bringing famine to a large part of the population. And yet, in 2020, in addition to these huge needs, there was the pandemic, and also torrential rains and the threat of a locust plague. For humanitarian aid for Yemen alone, the UN has appealed for 3.4 billion US dollars[8].

At the end of 2020, there were more than 168 million people in the world in need of humanitarian aid: a figure that has almost doubled in five years. Projections are horrific: the UN estimates that 235 million people will need aid in 2021[9]. Unfortunately, the increase in projected needs does not stop there: the World Bank estimates that a further 100 million people may find themselves in a state of extreme poverty this year because of the pandemic[10]. By 2030, with two-thirds of the extremely poor people in the world living in countries affected by fragility, conflicts and violence[11], it is likely that the need for humanitarian assistance will continue to grow at a frightening rate.

But it is very unlikely that funding allocated to international humanitarian aid will grow in proportion. It may even fall as institutional donors – such as the United States, the country that has been the most affected by the health crisis, and the European Union, the biggest donor in the world, whose Member States have also been significantly affected – are themselves confronted with budgetary difficulties, and even restrictions. The pandemic has wiped out decades of economic progress and even entire economic segments, globally. Faced with numerous challenges of their own, including significantly increased social needs, States which have traditionally funded humanitarian aid will probably not be prepared to increase international aid budgets – assuming they were in a position to do so. With increased demand and stagnating (or even falling) resources, it is likely that the humanitarian sector will soon be affected by major upheavals.

Conclusion: facing the climatic and environmental crises

This pandemic is not just another challenge for humanitarians to get through: it fundamentally questions how the humanitarian sector is organised, how it is funded, and its level of sustainability. Yet, COVID-19 has increased collective awareness about the fragility of our societies and the vulnerability of humanity. This period could finally provide humanitarians with the opportunity to fully take stock of the other global challenge facing us all: the climatic and environmental crisis[12].

Humanitarian organisations involved in disaster preparedness and management are already well aware that environmental degradation and climate change are not just problems that we might need to prepare for; serious humanitarian consequences are already upon us. They are increasing the frequency and impact of disasters, making responses more perilous and difficult. Droughts, uncontrollable fires, extreme heatwaves, floods, hurricanes and tsunamis have clearly become more frequent in recent years and have also become more deadly[13]. These events cause soil erosion and depletion, and disrupt agriculture, leading to population displacement and serious food crises, as the poorest and the most vulnerable are always the most affected. In other terms: the climatic and environmental crises are already humanitarian crises[14].

Humanitarian actors can and must overcome these challenges. The first step needed is to ensure that their own actions are not contributing to the problem. Based on the principle of ‘Do No Harm’ and their societal responsibility, humanitarian organisations must rapidly adopt more responsible behaviours. To begin with, the sector must reduce its ecological footprint and its carbon impact, which means fewer displacements (and replacing the iconic big diesel-fuelled 4-wheel drives!). But that is only the start: the very planning and delivery of humanitarian activities must be rethought. To take only one example, the ecological impact of IDP camps is well known: camps hurriedly established in inappropriate places continue to be used for years, such as in Cox’s Bazaar in Bangladesh. This causes waste management problems, depletes local water and wood resources, and accelerates soil erosion, which in turn increases the risk that the camps will be flooded more frequently and more dangerously. And, above all, humanitarian actors can play a crucial role in developing better adaptation measures after disasters take place. They can ensure that today’s assistance helps to rebuild more sustainably and strengthen the resilience of those who receive it, so as to prepare them more effectively for the crises that will undoubtedly come in the future.

[1] See Virginie Troit, “Entre local et global, les organisations humanitaires face aux crises sanitaires mondiales”, Alternatives Économiques, No 87, 2020/3. However, regarding international NGOs, she writes: “Within a few days, they adapted their missions in their home countries, while staying on alert for the countries where they have projects in Africa and the Middle East. The strict limitation of their mobility was partially circumvented by the establishment of airlifts to supply masks and medical equipment”.

[2] The concept of ‘localisation’ is used to describe the aspiration to have aid, carried out by local humanitarian actors as much as possible: not only delivered by local organisations and the communities concerned, but also managed by them rather than orchestrated by foreign entities. This notion was part of the ‘Grand Bargain’ which was agreed between representatives of 30 of the main donors and humanitarian organisations during the Istanbul Summit.

[3] With the notable exception of the aid delivered in the Mediterranean to migrants aiming to enter Italian territorial waters.

[4] On this basis, the Chinese Red Cross, the Iranian Red Crescent and the Italian Red Cross, among others, played their roles as auxiliaries to their respective national authorities during the response to the pandemic.

[5] See Groupe URD, Des solutions locales à la pandémie globale : des voies d’avenir ?, Note de réflexion n°11, 2020 (https://www.urd.org/fr/publication/des-solutions-locales-a-la-pandemie-globale-des-voies-davenir-note-de-reflexion-n11-2020).

[6] See IFRC, World Disasters Report 2015 (http://ifrc-media.org/interactive/world-disasters-report-2015).

[7] ONU, OCHA, Middle East and North Africa, Global Humanitarian Overview (https://gho.unocha.org/inter-agency-appeals/middle-east-and-north-africa).

[8] Ibid.

[9] Global Humanitarian Overview 2021, Press Release (https://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/resources/GHO2021_Press%20Release_EN.pdf)

[10] World Bank, Annual Report 2020 (https://www.worldbank.org/en/about/annual-report).

[11] Ibid.

[12] Watch videos of the debates from the 2019 Autumn School on ‘Climate change, multiple crises and collapse’ (https://www.urd.org/en/news/watch-videos-of-the-debates-from-the-2019-autumn-school-on-climate-change-multiple-crises-and-collapse/).

[13] See The Cost of Doing Nothing: The humanitarian price of climate change and how it can be avoided (https://media.ifrc.org/ifrc/wp-content/uploads/sites/5/2019/09/2019-IFRC-CODN-EN.pdf)

[14] See “The future is now: time to scale up climate mitigation and adaptation measures”, Humanitarian Law & Policy Blog | Humanitarian Law & Policy Blog (https://blogs.icrc.org/law-and-policy/2020/02/06/future-now-climate-crisis/)