Search results
Introduction All over the globe, fascism, racism and xenophobic nationalism are resurfacing in what we once thought of as ‘respectable’ democracies. Following a particularly bleak weekend at the end of October 2018 (the election of Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil, reports of worsening famine in Yemen, Israeli bombardment of Gaza and the murder of eleven worshippers at a refugee-harbouring synagogue in Pittsburgh), my colleague Dr Sara Salem of the London School of Economics tweeted: ‘It’s difficult watching political scientists scrambling to
‘liberal space’ and its likely consequences for humanitarian action; Mark Duffield, on ‘post-humanitarianism’ and the government of precarity; Elena Fiddian-Qasmiyeh, on the impact on Palestinian refugees of US budget cuts under Donald Trump; José Luis Fiori, on the new security strategy of the US and the disavowal of liberal internationalism; David Rieff, on the legitimacy of humanitarian agencies in a changing political landscape; Mel Bunce, on
looming environmental disasters. Domestically, the liberal social contract is coming apart in many Western states as the coalition of those who have not benefited from the decades of wealth accumulation after 1979 turns to populist politicians and looks for scapegoats, with experts, immigrants and Muslims seen as prime targets. The commitment to liberal institutions that create limits to the scope of political competition – rights, the rule of law, freedom of the press – and to the basic level of respect due to all persons, be they citizens or refugees
such strategically unwise. But the more important point is that it is no longer possible, if it ever was, to separate relief workers’ political convictions about what the EU should stand for from their ethical commitment to helping people in need, rescuing people in danger of losing their lives and helping refugees once they have arrived. The problem is that, however overstated, the claim of neutrality has always played an important role in establishing the legitimacy humanitarian action has enjoyed in Europe. In South Sudan in the 1990s, there
staff, recruited locally the previous year, remained in place to work in the medical facilities or manage the drug supply, and had to deal with bombings and other conflict-related risks. The national staff were also refugees, finding themselves wearing two hats – as NGO workers and directly affected by the conflict – and having to deal with the pressures that go with both. The other challenge was monitoring the quality of the services offered and the
Rohingya crisis in Cox’s Bazar, as part of a wider accountability and engagement effort in a consortium with BBC Media Action and Internews. During the lifetime of TWB’s HIF Scale grant, surveys showed that the proportion of Rohingya refugees who stated that they did not have enough information fell from 77% 3 to 28%. 4 The space of Scale has also evolved. In their early paper on scaling, McClure and Gray (2015) identified scaling as a ‘missing middle’: there was little evidence of innovations scaling in the humanitarian sector, and very little understanding of how
Germany’s Nazi regime. Nor did they pay much attention to the international work of the German Red Cross from the 1950s onwards. On the whole, themes such as the cross-cultural interactions and troubles of Red Cross workers or the voices and experiences of refugees and other suffering communities within the ‘global South’ rarely found their way into these institutions. More recently, however, some museums have started to embed their storytelling in broader international
the root of the evolution of humanitarianism. From this point of view, humanitarianism could be seen as a biopolitical regime that combines, depending on the context, various technologies of power, some forms of violence and discourses of human rights, suffering and charity. Traditionally, humanitarianism has been playing a leading role in the proliferation of non-governmental organisations (NGOs). Its various functions have been the rescue of wounded civilians in war, assistance to refugees and displaced persons and the transmission of information against
‘revolution’. With all the official channels closed, MSF went through a foreign journalist to make contact with the president of a local Syrian non-governmental organisation (NGO) that was providing assistance to Iraqi refugees. This NGO, which cannot be named here as it is still operating in Damascus, was part of a network supporting both official medical establishments (like Shifa Hospital in Hama) and clandestine facilities via the tansikiyats (coordination committees
Introduction ‘ I remember [years ago] being in a refugee camp in Syria, and when there were demonstrations and people picked up sticks and were throwing stones, and we were like, ‘Alright, that’s it, we’re withdrawing until they settle down.’ We withdrew for two days until they came and apologised and then we went back in again. Sticks and stones are a piece of cake compared to what we face now. ’ 1 Relayed by a humanitarian worker interviewed for this article, the quote paints a vivid portrait of the way that many humanitarians view the shifting nature