A more courageous, smarter humanitarianism is needed to ease Sudan’s pain
Ihovered at the ill-defined Sudan-South Sudan border watching the Nuba Mountains being firebombed. It was 2013 and the region was besieged by then-President Omar Bashir’s forces. Witnessing his relentless scorchedearth policy, I pondered on how to bring humanitarian succor to people cowering in Nuban caves.
Locals showed me how. When dusk fell, they emerged from ramshackle shelters in South Sudan’s border town of Yida and left food packages at the frontier — culled from their own meager refugee rations. Their Sudanese kith and kin collected them when darkness forced the warplanes to leave. That is how local solidarity kept the Nuba alive. Barred from crossing the border into Sudan, enlightened aid agencies that recognized the resourcefulness of refugees increased their aid allocations. Knowing that part of that would get into the Nuba Mountains, they understood that was a cost-effective way to help.
I am reminded of that experience now while watching the unfolding of the latest chapter of Sudan’s decades-long trauma.
When peace-making proves difficult, we offer humanitarian aid as consolation. And so, while waiting to see if ceasefire mediation will succeed, the UN has sharply revised upward its international humanitarian appeal for Sudan. This demands $2.6 billion for critical food, health, nutrition, water, protection, shelter and education. The needs are unarguable: Some 25 million Sudanese, or more than half the population, require urgent lifepreserving assistance.
But in contexts where civilians are targeted and violations of international humanitarian law and war crimes are common, how will the aid get to needy people across this vast land? International humanitarian agencies must be honest about what they cannot do in Sudan, especially when trust is so low. That was eroded when most of the foreign angels of mercy working there flew away after fighting erupted on April 15. Abandoning their local colleagues and clients to face the horrors on their own was an echo of the similar abandonment and dire consequences seen in Afghanistan in 2021. This shames the modern humanitarian system, which has become more and more risk averse, even as it has expanded in size, ambition and complexity, demanding ever more resourcing. That is not to overlook the courage of individual aid workers who stayed or did not want to leave Sudan but were obliged to do so by their employers, as several frustrated colleagues told me.
At the root of the problem is the institutionalization of humanitarianism; this is no longer a vocation but a business. And like any prudent enterprise, it must be run so as to minimize risks and liabilities. Caring organizations doing their duty to keep their staff out of harm’s way can hardly be criticized.
But the perverse consequence is that humanitarians’ operating space and contribution gets ever more limited and their relevance diminishes further. The Sudanese are entitled to ask why they should bother with international humanitarians when they cannot be relied upon when most needed. If international agencies cannot deliver effectively under the current circumstances in Sudan, why should its mammoth UN appeal be funded? Besides, even if they are able to do something here and there, it will be through local partners and an inefficient transaction process that consumes 30 percent of aid given. That cannot be right at a time when there are immense humanitarian needs, limited resources and a moral imperative to maximize the benefit of each humanitarian dollar. Why don’t donors go directly to local agencies that know their own people and needs and can devise creative delivery methods while willingly going where other angels fear to tread? Just like the Nuba I saw a decade ago. Sudanese doctors, engineers and myriad local community groups are already doing that in the current crisis. But in supporting local efforts, it is important not to transfer risk to them; all six aid workers killed so far this year were local Sudanese.
The reason that supporting Sudanese aid groups directly is not popular is that granting small amounts to many agencies is hard work for donors, who prefer writing big cheques to a few large global bodies that monopolize the international system. A further excuse is lack of confidence in the integrity of local organizations, although fraud, corruption and other abuses within international bodies is more costly. Fortunately, the Sudanese are not waiting for international agencies. Their large diaspora in the Gulf, Africa, Europe, the US and Australia has found ways to help their relatives and friends through informal money transfers. Expatriate Sudanese across the world are busy through their networks and social media mobilizing resources. The advantage of trickling aid in small, decentralized ways is that this has a greater chance of getting to the people who need it most. In contrast, dumping billions of aid dollars, including via the shiny warehouses and vehicles beloved of big agencies, provides tempting targets for looters and fuels the war economy. But small-scale aid is not so photogenic for the media covering Sudan’s drama and, therefore, gets less recognition. Sudan will eventually get beyond the current crisis, whenever its rulers are ready for peace. Meanwhile, there is plenty of pain and suffering to be endured. It is the duty of humanitarians to lighten that burden and it requires more courage and smarter working. This means trusting and supporting the Sudanese to help their own people in their own way.
International humanitarian agencies must be honest about what they cannot do in Sudan, especially when trust is so low
The Sudanese are entitled to ask why they should bother with international humanitarians when they cannot be relied upon when most needed