Rethinking humanitarian principles? Consider community, context, and common sense
What we learned about humanity and impartiality from thousands of people in Chad and the Democratic Republic of Congo
In 2022, Ground Truth Solutions and UNICEF launched a project in Chad and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) that aimed to ensure the people affected by the overlapping crises in each country could influence how they received assistance. Working with Victim’s Hope DRC and independent researchers in Chad, we conducted surveys, focus group discussions, individual interviews, and community dialogue sessions to understand how people felt about humanitarian assistance and how it could improve. As the project nears conclusion, we wanted to share the insight gained, and to connect the voices and experiences of people impacted by crisis with salient policy discussions of humanitarian practice and principles. This article also includes insight from the following panellists in our recent lessons learned webinar: Yves Badesire, monitoring and evaluation expert for Victim’s Hope DRC; Audrey Hernandez, head of mission for Concern Worldwide in Chad; Charles-Antoine Hofmann, Accountability to Affected People lead at UNICEF’s global emergencies branch; and Karin Wendt, senior researcher at HERE-Geneva.
“Impartiality” faces constant scrutiny: is the more subjective principle of “fairness” more helpful?
Impartiality as an idea makes sense. Aid should be based on need, and the most urgent cases prioritised without discrimination. Assessment and evidence should identify the most vulnerable. This sounds great. But in practice it is messy, and if ten years of our data teaches us anything, the humanitarian community rarely, if ever, gets it right. Impartiality frequently faces well-documented challenges. In DRC, almost half the people we spoke to (46%) believe aid does not go to those who need it most. In Chad, only 24% to 37% – depending on the crisis – think aid reaches those who need it most. In DRC, similar numbers of people feel aid is not fair (42%), while in Chad, this perception ranges from 24% to 43%.
When you and your neighbour both eat, it makes community members love each other; but when you eat and your neighbour does not, it can create hate and misunderstanding. If I receive, and my neighbour receives too, that’s good. – Man living in a host community in Irumu, Ituri, DRC
Do people perceive aid as unfair when they do not think it reaches those with the greatest need? In some cases, this appears to be true. People want a better and clearer targeting system for the most vulnerable that can better prevent aid diversion. In both countries, most people simply do not know why some people receive aid and others do not. This lack of understanding fuels tensions. When one neighbour receives aid while another in a very similar situation does not, particularly if the receiving neighbour does not have obviously visible characteristics of vulnerability like pregnancy, old age, or disability, it is difficult to understand the selection process and accept it as fair. We saw a glaring gap in understanding of the difference between registration and selection. Individuals are often left wondering why a high number of people are registered while only some ultimately receive anything. Opaque decision-making is a clear barrier to their perception of fairness.
Collective prioritisation may be better than individualised assessments
For aid to be fair, people tend to demand a more holistic, inclusive approach to aid delivery that helps the whole community. In DRC, many people would prefer that aid is provided to everyone, rather than attempting to select those who need it most.
A holistic and inclusive approach may be easily dismissed as unrealistic when growing need surpasses shrinking resources. But with changes in programming, this need not be the case.
The way needs are currently defined and measured – whereby humanitarian decision-makers identify individual needs of households through criteria that aim to pinpoint and quantify vulnerability – does not always align with the communal dynamics and priorities of crisis-affected communities. Individuals very often perceive their situation as like those of their neighbours and friends, especially when they are dealing with huge, shared challenges such as violence, insecurity, lack of income and educational opportunities, and displacement. In such conditions, spotlighting some as vulnerable and some not feels nonsensical. People in DRC suggest that covering more members of the community with the aid available – even this means less aid for each individual – would be more fair, help to maintain social cohesion, and reduce security risks.
A fair aid programme does not necessarily clash with impartial aid. But viewing impartiality as a potential outcome rather than a prerequisite might be more helpful. This approach would mean departing from rating humanitarian needs on a predominantly individual scale, and assessment exercises that people find intrusive and undignified, seeking to understand communities as complex collectives. By focusing on priorities instead of needs, factoring in public resources such as facilities and infrastructure, and better understanding the diversity within crisis-affected communities, we can perhaps respond better to community requests for a comprehensive aid approach. If this helped aid go to where it was most needed – as many in Chad and DRC think it would – a welcome side effect would be upholding our commitment to impartiality.
This requires a participatory approach to programme design, at all levels, in which the community has an opportunity to meaningfully participate in necessary decisions about trade-offs.
One barrier to this is our tendency to approach community engagement in extremes: either by aiming to hear from as many individuals as possible, or by simply delegating important decisions to certain local leaders. The targeting and selection of aid recipients relies heavily on local support, which can challenge impartiality. In both Chad and the DRC, those most often involved in decision-making and selection processes such as village heads, authorities, and other figures of influence, are sometimes perceived to misuse their positions of power.
The heads of villages have already created teams that register only their friends, acquaintances, and relatives to the detriment of the disabled and other vulnerable individuals. Their guides demand money, 10 to 20 US dollars, in order to be among those identified and eligible to obtain humanitarian aid. – Internally displaced man living in Oicha, North Kivu, DRC
In Chad, a common answer to the question of why some people are left out of aid programming is favouritism by people in power. People in both countries point to corruption and nepotism, and describe how those in power have prioritised their family members for aid registration, and doctored distribution lists to favour those they know.
A fair aid programme would aim to work with a more complex cross-section of communities, hearing from representatives of diverse groups – not only people of influence – to co-design programmes that target the right people, while weighing up the risks of tensions between those who receive certain types of assistance and those who do not.
For this to be possible, more transparent communication is needed about aid processes, options, how decisions are taken, and the limitations of humanitarian assistance. Ongoing dialogue should aim to pre-empt and minimise rumours and misinformation. And checks and balances must be in place to avoid gross exploitations of powerful positions. But none of this is easy. Audrey Hernandez and Yves Badesire both highlight challenges in capturing community priorities and engaging in the necessary number of face-to-face conversations: obstacles range from language barriers and logistical issues to the denial of physical access and unclear community leader representation structures.
With so many challenges to overcome, fairness may be a helpful goal in decisionmaking and delivery. Our work indicates that if people perceive aid processes to be inclusive, transparent, and traceable, they are more likely to perceive aid as fair. And if exercises that are inherently deemed to be more fair single out specific groups of people as priorities for greater support, a commensurate “impartiality” approach will receive more acceptance than choices made solely by unseen humanitarian decisionmakers based on extractive surveys and vulnerability matrixes, whose results are rarely accessible to communities.
The criteria are unfair. They register so many people – sometimes everyone – but only a few people receive aid. Why? – Man who arrived in Chad as a refugee, living in Chari Baguirmi
Could the principle of humanity be a better guide?
The principle of humanity is often exempt from the constant academic interrogation faced by its peers. It is misunderstood as adherence to an abstract, philosophical concept built on empathy and a moral imperative. “The most common operationalisation of the principle of humanity is its translation into the humanitarian imperative that justifies action no matter what.”
However, as highlighted by Larissa Fast, humanity is not just about showing up: it’s about how we show up. Humanity demands meaningful presence, proximity to communities, and deep contextual understanding. It means working with communities to improve the situation. “The value of humanity cannot be reduced to a mere pin on a map. It is the quality of the presence that matters.”
Less standardisation, more proximity
In Chad and DRC, people deplore the distance they perceive between aid workers and their communal realities. Many demand “more presence by aid workers” in communities targeted by their programmes, so that they can put a face to the response, and talk to someone to ask a question, make a suggestion, or lodge a complaint. Charles-Antoine Hofmann emphasises that the very basics are often overlooked, with significant consequences: “There are trust issues from communities towards humanitarians. Not responding to complaints, or the act of perpetually soliciting input from communities when we are unable to offer responses – those are red lines that we cannot cross, in my opinion.”
Karin Wendt is all too familiar with the proximity gap. “When you look at the map, humanitarian presence in key areas seems apparent; however, when speaking with affected people, the perception differs. They see their vehicles and logos but do not necessarily meet the staff. They feel the aid is detached: people taking pictures and asking questions, that’s it.”
Where resources are stretched, a well-intentioned focus on efficiency often leads to compromises on quality. In Chad, attempts to get food to as many people as possible amidst a huge funding gap mean people receive small amounts of food that they do not want. And in DRC, 40% affirm that people exchange or sell aid to obtain what they prefer or need.
Humanitarian actors must pay more attention to better local representation and accountability systems, in which a broader cross-section of community stakeholders know about and can contribute to aid processes. Operationalising the humanity principle by aspiring to more contextualised, quality assistance nicely complements the notion of fairness.
The need to prioritise should reduce, not perpetuate, standardisation
We agree with Fast that operationalising the humanity principle requires “seeking out the perspectives of affected community members, […] and, perhaps most critically, responding through programme adaptation.”
However, the more we engage crisis-affected communities, the more we see solutions beyond the perceived remit of humanitarian actors. In protracted crises such as in Chad and DRC, people facing persistent challenges are calling for support to build resilience and attain autonomy. They are grateful for the aid they receive but like most people, they do not want to be aid recipients. They want to work towards a better future. In DRC, the overwhelming majority (86%) of respondents do not believe the aid they receive enables them to become self-reliant, and most have several ideas for how meagre resources could be used better with a longer-term view.
Aid is inadequate because no one consults us. Humanitarians do not know our reality. They arrive with aid and as we are vulnerable, we cannot refuse. So we take it, then exchange it for food.” – Woman in Moyen Chari, Chad, who had returned to her home community after displacement
Some humanitarian staff in Chad have told us that people only demand long-term aid because the response has succeeded in covering the most urgent, life-saving needs: they see the call for autonomy as testament to humanitarian success. But a dramatically low proportion of surveyed people say their most important needs are being met (13%), and the overwhelming majority still expect humanitarian aid to enable them to live in a self-sufficient way.
We are often told that in this era of humanitarian prioritisation, when needs far outweigh funds, there is no money to tackle wishes for autonomy and resilience. But this type of thinking ignores some hard realities; like the fact that in Chad, what is considered “life-saving aid” is often sold in the market to generate more appropriate family support. And of the 40% in DRC who claim that aid is sold, one-in-five say it is to fund income-generating projects, and nearly two-in-five say it is to cover loan repayments.
Aid’s inadequacy in the face of Chad and DRC’s enduring crises, compounded by climate change, risks simply rendering communities more vulnerable after every disaster. An insistence that aid should focus solely on short-term relief overlooks people’s dignity, agency, and ongoing realities. When asked about their priorities, people in both countries consistently highlight the need for security and peace as well as job and livelihood opportunities.
If aid is truly to be bottom-up, people-centred, and hence more accountable, most people recognise that better cooperation is needed between short- and longer-term actors and their funders. But making this work in a system whose “professionalisation” has rendered it siloed and standardised is tricky.
Humanitarian actors cannot respond to all needs. Instead of acting as though they can, in needs assessments and their resulting appeals, we must work with other actors who are better positioned to find more sustainable solutions, even if that means sacrificing humanitarian funding to longer-term initiatives. A lack of coordination with governments often exacerbates the problem. In Chad, international humanitarian organisations tell us they have trouble tapping into existing regional government-led response plans to support people in the longer term.
Even where high-level cooperation and grand strategic shifts feel impossible, our data shows that self-sufficiency can still be a goal of the most basic aid programmes, simply by taking the time to listen and better understand local dynamics. For example, should cash be given regularly in small amounts each month, or as a larger lump sum for investment? For some people, one or the other will make or break their ability to save or invest. Others stress that livelihood assistance should be predictable and timely so they can make plans. Some ask for support in seeking access to arable land. Many simply ask humanitarian actors to respect distribution calendars and give out seeds on time.
There is no one-size-fits-all solution; community priorities must determine solutions. Audrey Hernandez explains, “in Chad, having a response centred around communities’ priorities is challenging with so many diverse needs and compounding crises, everything becomes a priority […]. Add to this a lack of funding […]. This requires us to better coordinate our work, specialise our response and ensure that the response is complementary.” It also requires flexibility, which despite a marked increase in flexible donor funding over the years, is still cited as a primary barrier to listening and responding to community priorities by many actors.
So what?
In Chad’s Lac region, one man told us that when aid actors consult his community, “they come and question us, annoying us without any concrete actions afterwards.” Yves Badesire explains, “in DRC, aid recipients tell us that they feel some aid agencies define their needs on their behalf; arriving with pre-designed aid programmes without truly understanding the actual needs of the community. They feel as though these predetermined programmes are simply being implemented.”
Any useful discussion of the sector’s need to prioritise should start with that feedback. This does not just diagnose a fundamental failing of the system, but clarifies that a solution is staring us all in the face. In “Painful choices”, Hugo Slim rethinks impartiality by calling for shared responsibility between states and aid actors. Our work tells us that we should prioritise listening to communities as the basis of such an overhaul.
The link between fairness and impartiality necessitates a nuanced approach that moves beyond individual needs assessments to embrace collective prioritisation and transparent decision-making. We must look beyond “assessing needs” and focus more on understanding priorities and capacities, thinking longer term about “balancing public and private effort”, addressing systemic needs at area level, and investing in multiplier services such as food markets, water services, health system, or educational facilities.
Almost paradoxically, a true reading of the principle of humanity might call for restraint of the imprudent moral imperative to “act no matter what”, constantly prioritising quantity at the expense of quality. Meaningful engagement, proximity to communities, and a shift towards enabling self-reliance and autonomy all start by better seeking to understand people in crisis as humans, not numbers. What would it take for us to feel more comfortable with humanitarian action that did not count PINs, rely on intrusive quantifiable needs assessments, or feel the need to broadcast success in terms of “people reached”? That question may exceed this paper’s remit but the clear feedback we have from people in Chad and DRC is that collectively, we must try.