John Holmes worked in the Foreign Office for 34 years, finishing as Ambassador in Paris, before taking up the role of UN USG for Humanitarian Affairs in 2007.

The Politics of Humanity

The Reality of Relief Aid

By John Holmes

Head of Zeus Ltd

Copyright © 2013 John Holmes
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-78185-091-6

Contents

Welcome Page,
Dedication,
Maps,
Introduction An accidental humanitarian,
1 The Secret Life of an Emergency Relief Coordinator,
2 Darfur: how not to solve a crisis,
3 South Sudan: the (unmade) road to independence,
4 Sri Lanka: the end of the LTTE,
5 The Democratic Republic of Congo: not losing hope,
6 Somalia: endless night,
7 Myanmar: cyclone strike and government obstruction,
8 Gaza: collective punishment, conflict and controversy,
9 Afghanistan and Pakistan: safeguarding humanitarian space,
10 Earthquake horrors in Haiti,
11 Food Insecurity: country lessons and the 2008 food crisis,
12 Prevention is better than cure: acting before disasters happen,
13 Humanitarian Intervention, and protecting civilians in armed conflict,
14 Humanitarianism in the twenty-first century: rising needs and declining security,
Glossary,
Index,
About the Author,
About this Book,
About Head of Zeus,
Copyright,

CHAPTER 1

The Secret Life of an Emergency Relief Coordinator

It may be easier to understand the chapters about individual crises which follow, and relate to the issues raised, if I give a little more background on how the UN works from a humanitarian point of view, and how the ERC fits into the system, both in the UN and more widely. For example, what is working life like in New York, and what does a field trip to see a crisis on the ground actually consist of?

To start with New York, as ERC and under-secretary-general for humanitarian affairs, I was one of the senior members of the UN Secretariat, the body of international officials under the secretary-general who serve the UN membership in the various fields of its activity. This central secretariat is separate from, but works closely with, the UN specialized agencies, which deal on an operational level with individual issues such as economic development (UNDP), agriculture (FAO), or food (WFP). I had an office on the thirty-sixth floor of the main UN building (the iconic skyscraper on the East River in Manhattan), two floors below the secretary -general, and therefore in close proximity to him, alongside my political and peacekeeping colleagues. This reflected the ERC’s position as one of Ban ki-Moon’s key advisers. This was true not only in my own area of humanitarian operations, which was important to him and the organization, because we could make a visible and popular difference in an area which was on the whole not politically contentious between the different UN groupings, but also more broadly on the wider political challenges facing the UN. My experience and background gave me a breadth of view which I think had a certain value. I was also in a position where I could express my views with total independence and freedom, since I was not engaged in the political or peacekeeping operations myself, and was in no way beholden to the British or any other government, for my future career or anything else.

This readiness to say what I thought about issues which were outside the strict purview of my own department did not always endear me to my closest UN colleagues, particularly the heads of the Departments of Political Affairs and of Peacekeeping, and occasionally those on the development side too. But I tried to ensure that any differences were always kept private, and that working relationships overall remained good.

My association with Ban ki-Moon and his key staff was also close and positive. Whatever criticisms there may be of Ban, I always found him supportive of me and of humanitarian concerns, anxious to do the right thing, and genuinely moved by the suffering of the victims of disasters or conflicts, partly based on his own tough and humble upbringing in the aftermath of the Korean War. In my experience he was hardworking to a fault, totally honest, absolutely committed to the UN and its role, and determined to make a difference where he could. His political instincts were usually sound and his readiness to tell his frequent senior visitors what they did not want to hear much greater than often supposed from the outside.

He has weaker points, of which he is well aware himself. He is not charismatic or a great strategic thinker. Like his predecessors, he is not in a position to tell the big powers what to do nor to fix their disagreements (of course they themselves do not really want a strong secretary-general, whatever they claim in public). But the UN and the international community could have done a good deal worse, especially at a very difficult time of many simultaneous political and economic crises (and long-term climate challenge, on which he has been particularly outspoken). Ban has also been a notable victim of the usual media tendency to confuse the UN as an institution with its member states, blaming the former for the failings and disagreements of the latter.

In any case, I worked closely and well with Ban ki-Moon on some of the key issues I faced in Myanmar, Haiti, and elsewhere, and was grateful to him for his readiness to back me up against obstructive or critical local governments when necessary. I am not, therefore, among those who blame him for the world’s ills or look back to a presumed golden age when the UN secretary-general was supposedly a real world leader.

Although I was away from New York a good deal, when I was there I was a frequent participant in the secretary-general’s formal policy committee meetings, looking at the big issues we faced, and also in the rather more important and operational informal meetings he called on a frequent basis to deal with tricky problems like Darfur, peacekeeping issues in the Congo, Middle East dilemmas, or how to address the aftermath of the Haiti earthquake of 2010.

But I also had my own humanitarian policy responsibilities to tackle and my own constituencies to coordinate and, where necessary, lead. There were various bodies which helped me to stay in touch with the big issues and coordinate policy approaches. I chaired a monthly meeting of the UN Executive Committee on Humanitarian Affairs, which brought together the heads of the main UN humanitarian organizations – UNHCR, UNICEF, WFP, and so on – together with representatives from the political, economic, and human rights parts of the UN Secretariat. We looked regularly at the main crises, to ensure we were all pointing in the same direction, and at big cross-cutting issues, and tried to make sure that our debates were not just theoretical, but as practical as possible with hard conclusions and recommendations which the participants were supposed to implement.

There was also a parallel humanitarian policy and coordination structure, under the broad umbrella of the so-called Inter-Agency Standing Committee (IASC), which involved not only the UN humanitarian organizations, but also the main humanitarian NGOs and the Red Cross/Red Crescent bodies. This met formally from time to time, but more importantly could be convened immediately in person or by video/teleconference whenever a new crisis struck to make sure that information about needs and problems was instantly and fully shared, and any policy issues identified and dealt with – for example, about free access to the affected area or how to raise sufficient funding for an effective operation to be mounted.

As always, these formal bodies had their uses, but the real work was done through personal contacts outside them, at all levels. I spent a good deal of time on the phone to the heads of the main humanitarian organizations, within and outside the UN, and to the main donors, to make sure the fragmented system was as joined up as we could make it in the circumstances.

Much of my time was also obviously devoted to running OCHA itself, trying to ensure it was administratively and financially sound (unlike other parts of the UN Secretariat, we were mostly dependent on voluntary funding from governments), and that it was contributing effectively to humanitarian relief efforts around the world. This meant a lot of internal management and coordination in New York and Geneva, as well as much time spent liaising with and talking to our field offices and the humanitarian coordinators on the ground, especially in the hottest spots of the day.

Although many people are scathing about the effectiveness of UN bureaucracy, I considered myself fortunate in OCHA for the most part, since the staff there were relatively young, and were dedicated humanitarians, not office-bound time-servers. Many had previously worked in NGOs and brought to the UN that can-do operational spirit so desperately needed in crises. I was hugely grateful for their knowledge, support, and energy.

I was particularly fortunate in my personal office, with totally committed staff ready to work all hours if necessary, notably Andrew Cox, chief of staff for most of my time, and Shani Harris, my special assistant for nearly all of it. They kept me up to speed not only with what was going on around the world, but also the inside story of developments within the UN and OCHA itself. They also kept me on the right road, metaphorically and literally, on the frequent field trips.

A lot of my time in New York was also spent dealing with the press, particularly when a new and media-attractive crisis struck. I was a frequent guest briefer at the UN Press Office’s daily press conference, as well as giving apparently endless interviews to the radio, TV and newspapers from around the world. Trying to make sure that the right messages got through about what was happening on the ground, that major needs were not going unmet because of ignorance, and that abuses by governments or others were being exposed, was a crucial part of my role. Being available to the press more or less all the time was, therefore, essential.

Consequently, working days in New York were long and packed with meetings and encounters of all kinds. However, it was clear to me from my first day in office that the job could not be done properly just from New York – or indeed Geneva, the other major international humanitarian centre. In order to understand what was really happening in any emergency, and to be able to talk about it and the associated problems with any credibility and conviction, I had to go to see for myself. This was why I spent so much time on the road, despite the demands of headquarters in New York, and the valuable work to be done there.

The number of crises needing my attention meant that the time available for visits was never sufficient. It was therefore necessary to cram as much as possible into short periods, even when the destinations were distant and the travelling time at the other end long and tiring. I was lucky in some respects – I was often able to call on the UN’s resources to get me to remote areas quickly, for example using peacekeeping helicopters. Nevertheless, in many places there was no avoiding long trips over rough roads or tracks to get to the people in need. And there was no substitute for this: I had to meet those we were trying to help, to understand exactly why they were where they were, and what they really thought and needed. I also had to talk to the humanitarian staff on the ground – again, in order to have a clear picture of what they and we were really up against and how I could best contribute to resolving some of the problems they faced. I needed to experience a little of what they were experiencing on a daily basis, by staying in the places they had to stay in – often so-called guest houses. These were basic buildings in remote locations, with rudimentary facilities, put up by a UN organization or NGO to ensure their staff had at least somewhere to rest their heads at night, and some kind of office with communications back to headquarters.

A typical field visit would involve arriving in an African or Asian capital on an overnight flight from New York via Europe. After a rapid briefing from the UN resident/humanitarian coordinator and the head of the OCHA country office (if one existed in the country we were visiting), I would plunge straight into initial meetings with senior representatives from the local government, the heads of the main local humanitarian organizations (UN, Red Cross and NGOs, sometimes separately, sometimes together) and often a group of local ambassadors from the main countries too. I would be both learning from them how they saw the local situation, and giving them my overall approach based on what I knew already.

Then it would be straight to the airport to catch an internal plane or helicopter flight to the affected area and/or a car journey to the site of the action. After supper with the local humanitarians and a short night’s sleep, we would be off the next morning to the camps or the disaster location, to get round as many of the key points as possible. At each place I would need to meet the local authority representatives first, as a courtesy and to get their point of view, but also to ensure that they did not control my visit, so that I would see the reality, not just what they wanted me to see. I would then visit the people we were trying to help, meeting as many of them – individually or collectively – as possible, without the presence of the local police or army, so they could speak freely. To complement whatever I was hearing from the local male leaders, separate meetings with the women were always an important feature, giving me a more grounded and less political view.

I would be accompanied by staff from my own local OCHA office, as well as from other agencies and NGOs, to explain what I was seeing and to act as interpreters as necessary. I usually travelled in the car between meetings with the representative of a particular humanitarian agency or NGO to allow them to bend my ear on their own preoccupations, partly for my own edification, but also to give them the sense that we were listening to all points of view.

The meetings with those affected were often harrowing and distressing. They were anxious to tell me their stories and their sufferings, and to make sure I understood exactly what they needed. Tears and anger were not uncommon, but extraordinary calm and dignity in the face of unimaginable tragedy and violence were more usual. My minders were always anxious to move me on, since we were usually behind schedule, with many more people and places to see before the day was done. But I never felt I could leave without hearing people out. I could do little enough to help them in all conscience, and the least I could do was to listen and understand, so as to equip myself to represent them to the outside world.

After each stop, there was usually a gathering of the press – local or international – to allow me to talk for a few minutes about what I had seen and heard, and individual interviews to give in addition. I typically had to steer a careful course between emotional outbursts concerning the horrors I had just seen or heard about, and the need to maintain some kind of working relationship either with the local government or armed group in question or both. I was often walking on eggshells, and choosing my language very carefully. My diplomatic background certainly came in useful at these moments, though some humanitarian colleagues would have preferred me to be less diplomatic and more emotional at times.

After finally arriving at our destination for the night, my day would be far from done. I would eat with another group of aid workers, to give them their chance to ensure I understood what they were dealing with – and there were invariably a few who could not wait to give me a piece of their minds about the iniquities of UN policy – before facing a further round of interviews, often down a crackly mobile phone line to the BBC World Service or their French equivalent.

My final acts before collapsing into bed after a couple of glasses of whisky, if I could find some, would be to catch up on emails and messages from New York and take any decisions needed on them, and then approve a report back to New York about what we had seen and done that day, and agree a written press release for wider publicity purposes. The next morning would see us up and on the road early to repeat the process in a different part of the crisis area, often with more helicopter or road journeys taking a significant proportion of time, as well as energy.

Following two or three days of this kind of field trip, I would return to the capital. This generally meant further high-level calls on the government, including if possible the president or prime minister, to make them aware of the reality of what was going on in a remote part of their country they might never have visited themselves, and to ask for their help in facilitating our work and changing unacceptable parts of their own policies. This entailed more tightrope walking with senior politicians who were proud and sensitive to interference in their affairs from outsiders (particularly from someone from a former colonial power), but who needed to be brought to face the facts of what was actually happening on the ground, and the problems being caused by parts of their own governments or themselves.

I also had to report back on what I had seen and on my policy conclusions to the local humanitarian teams in the capital and to the ambassadors, as well as hold a final press conference with a combination of the local media (usually anxious to protect the reputation of their country) and the international correspondents (looking for a headline and a row between me and the local government, if they could find one). Then it was back to the airport to catch a plane out, normally by the skin of my teeth, just grateful when the flight back was long enough to catch up on a little sleep.

Once back in New York, the last part of any such trip was the private reports to Ban ki-Moon and to the heads of other international agencies and NGOs about my impressions and conclusions. I often gave a more public report to the Security Council, which was an important opportunity to bring home to them the severity and requirements of the situation, and to try to influence their thinking about some of the key issues. There was also usually a New York press conference and related interviews.

(Continues…)Excerpted from The Politics of Humanity by John Holmes. Copyright © 2013 John Holmes. Excerpted by permission of Head of Zeus Ltd.
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