Safeguarding women after disasters: some progress, but not enough

Hundreds of Mozambicans were killed and thousands made homelessrecently by Cyclones Idai and Kenneth. Almost immediately, there were reports of a sadly familiar story: women being forced to trade sex for food by local community leaders distributing aid.

Globally, international organisations appear to be grappling with the issue more seriously than before. Yet reports about sexual exploitation keep coming. How does the aid community strategise to protect women’s safety in disaster situations?

Over the past 15 years, I have done research on sexual exploitation of displaced women in Uganda and Colombia. I have also worked with a variety of humanitarian organisations on accountability and legalisation. Through this, I have identified the factors necessary to bring justice to the victims of predatory aid workers.

Sexual exploitation must be recognised as a real and widespread problem. There must be staff and management accountability. Transgressions must be sanctioned through disciplinary or penal measures. But there are also major dilemmas that need to be understood and tackled by governments, agencies and, most importantly, local communities.

Sexual exploitation in aid

The sexual exploitation of disaster and conflict victims is a global – and longstanding – phenomenon. Over the last 25 years, there have been radical changes in the standards of global public morality around the conduct of personnel working for international organisations and NGOs when vulnerable adults and children are involved.

Nevertheless, the willingness to see sexual exploitation as an inherent feature of the international community’s intervention to bring development, humanitarian aid or peace has been much slower to evolve.

It was only 24 years ago that UNHCR issued guidelines on sexual violence and refugees that expressly mentioned international refugee workers as being implicated in sexual violence against refugees.

The sexual abuse of vulnerable women and girls in several African countries by international aid workers was recently described as “endemic”. It was also noted that perpetrators easily moved around the sector undetected.

Several recent cases have been reported from Cote d’ivore, to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Namibia, Liberia, Sierra Leone, South Sudan and the Central African Republic.

These have involved aid workers and peacekeepers, as well as local aid workers and government employees.

In my research on refugees, accusations concerning “sex for resettlement” registration surface regularly. I found these to be frequent while working on refugee resettlement in Kampala 15 years ago. Despite the UNHCR’s promise to reform, similar accusations keep resurfacing, most recently in Kenya. The time has come for the international community to seriously debate the power mechanisms embedded in the resettlement process that enable sexual exploitation to fester.

What will fix the problem?

The first step is to organise accountability.

Humanitarian accountability first emerged as a concern in the 1980s. It was institutionalised in the 1994 Code of Conduct for the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement and NGOs in Disaster Relief . The 1996 Joint Evaluation of Emergency Assistance to Rwanda was a defining moment.

That report resulted in several sector-wide initiatives. Five years ago efforts were made to streamline these in the revised Core Humanitarian Standards.

Throughout this period, sexual exploitation has been considered the worst possible behaviour humanitarian workers can be guilty of. But it has not been clear what constitutes exploitation and in which relationships it takes place. The lack of a definition, the unwillingness to articulate and enforce robust norms for professional behaviour and the absence of effective complaint mechanisms and protections for whistle-blowers have contributed to a culture of impunity for predatory behaviour against aid recipients.

Early policy responses to sexual exploitation were concerned with reputational issues. But over the past 15 years the humanitarian sector has seen a flurry of institutional initiatives to grapple with this specific issue. The effort to prevent sexual exploitation and abuse is led by the Inter-Agency Standing Committee.

The aid sector is now engaging in “safeguarding exercises”. These emerged after the Oxfam scandal in Haiti. The organisation was seen as failing to act on sexual misconduct by staff in the aftermath of the 2010 earthquake, and then to have attempted a cover-up.

Safeguarding includes all actions by aid actors to protect staff from harm (abuse, sexual harassment and violence) and to ensure staff do not harm beneficiaries.

This broad definition represents both a welcome recognition of the scope of the problem and an opportunity for a comprehensive approach. But it also creates some new challenges. Three are particularly worth noting.

The challenges

Who gets a voice: There has been vocal concern about the lack of inclusiveness in how safeguarding is practised. Critics have noted that a safeguarding industry was hatched with little attention to local and national context or participation. There is a view that safeguarding is yet another Western-centric practice. I think this critique is true. But it also creates a dilemma: should global norms about sexual exploitation in international aid be up for local negotiation?

Regulation and criminalisation. In recent years, there have been calls to regulate foreign aid actors more robustly. This is understandable. Aid actors have operated with a great deal of license and even impunity under the humanitarian banner. But drawing up new laws also creates problems. This is particularly true in a context where African civil society generally is under pressure from new restrictive laws that curtail their activities.

Responding to the call to “do something”, the international community has embraced criminalisation and criminal prosecutions to promote and strengthen the fight against impunity. But opting for criminal law and the courtroom rests on a deeply simplistic framing of structural power imbalances in aid. Legal strategies are costly and slow. The focus on sexual violence in disasters and conflicts also risks crowding out concern for other aspects of women’s lives.

Localisation: Since 2016 there has been a significant focus on the localisation of aid. The Charter for Change focuses on contracting, resource allocation, transparency and communication. It highlights the importance of not undermining local capacity. The process is generally painfully slow and a shockingly small percentage of international aid funding is actually allocated to local actors.

At the same time, there is a persistent call for international actors to do, control and know more about what goes on locally to limit corruption, incompetence and abuse. This call comes partly from media in donor states addressing taxpayers, but also from watchdogs within the sector.

This is also the case for sexual exploitation. In its report, Human Rights Watch demands that “international partners, particularly the UN, should ensure greater oversight of the conduct of local officials during the distribution of humanitarian aid”. This will not come for free.

The question is how a balance can be found between control and localisation – and who gets to determine what this balance should be.

This post was originally published at https://theconversation.com/safeguarding-women-after-disasters-some-progress-but-not-enough-116619. For an extended critical commentary on the rapid rise of the Safeguarding concept in the aid sector, see https://jhumanitarianaction.springeropen.com/articles/10.1186/s41018-019-0051-1

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Aid Workers Could Secure Better Protection under the Protection of Civilians Mandate

When two aid workers were shot dead in Afghanistan last month, the world’s media focused its attention on the dangers of 21st century humanitarianism and the challenges that assistance agencies face in protecting their personnel. Those challenges were underscored again this week with the tragic news of more fatal attacks on aid workers in South Sudan. International law plays an undeniably important role in the protection of humanitarian personnel, but these events call into question the extent to which international law’s provisions on protection are effective on the ground. Reframing the protection of humanitarians as a protection of civilians issue could go some way to improving protection across-the-board.

Aid worker security is of vital importance to any humanitarian mission. Insecurity in this regard not only compromises the safety of aid workers themselves, but also the safety of the populations they serve and the quality of the aid they deliver. Condemning the attacks on the above mentioned South Sudanese aid workers, Wendy Taeuber, Country Director for the International Rescue Committee (IRC) in South Sudan, commented that the ‘security and safety of … staff is paramount in order to be able to operate.’

It is a desperately sad reality that attacks on aid workers are so common. According to the Aid Worker Security Database (AWSD), in 2013-2014 alone 610 workers across the major international organizations and national agencies were killed, wounded or kidnapped in the field (so-called ‘major incidents’). That figure does represent a slight decrease in the number of victims compared to 2012-2013 statistics, but the trend over the past decade shows a deeply concerning increase all the same.

So what accounts for such an increase? One might chalk these figures up to weapons becoming more powerful and more indiscriminate (unable to be operated in a manner consistent with the legally required distinction between combatants and non-combatants) than ever before but the statistics remain fairly steady with respect to the number of victims of weapons-related incidents. For an answer, it appears we need to look elsewhere.

The general framework for the protection of humanitarian personnel under international law may provide us one explanation, but certainly not the full array of them. There are several major international legal instruments that pertain to the protection of humanitarian aid workers and each legally classifies those aid workers as civilians. The 1949 Convention relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War (the fourth Geneva Convention) and the 1977 Protocols additional to the Geneva Conventions (Additional Protocol I and Additional Protocol II) are civilian protection treaties that oblige Parties to protect aid workers in specified armed conflict situations. Article 71(2) of Additional Protocol I, for example, requires that ‘personnel shall be respected and protected’ generally and Article 71(3) stipulates that each Party in receipt of relief consignments is obliged to ‘assist relief personnel … in carrying out their relief mission’. But despite being classified as civilians for the purposes of the conventions, aid workers are rarely treated like civilians in practice. It is in this paradox that many of the humanitarian protection issues faced today are sourced. Reframing the protection of humanitarian personnel as a protection of civilians issue (in line with international law), therefore, may provide an avenue for some improvement.

So how does the protection of humanitarians vs protection of civilians issue play out on the ground? The problems in this regard are too numerous and too complex to list in full but some key issues can be identified here. For one thing, aid workers look like aid workers and not like civilians. They are often dressed in uniforms with internationally-recognized emblems that guarantee their legal protection if nothing else (the International Committee of the Red Cross’ (ICRC) emblem of a red cross on a white background being the most prolific) and they often travel in marked vehicles with a host of resources and privileges that are not available to the general civilian population. These factors create an operational atmosphere in which humanitarians look to be more protected than they actually are. This is so even without considering that certain types of humanitarian are permitted, unlike the civilian population, to carry guns – a consideration that despite having no legal relevance here (as these humanitarians are governed by a separate branch of international law) does accentuate the differences between humanitarians and civilians. In light of these perceived differences, mission planners have ended up splitting protection of humanitarians units away from protection of civilians units, meaning the two rarely work together or share resources which in turn serves only to foster the unhelpful divide. Major advocacy groups like Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, too, have responded by prioritizing protection of civilians in their campaigns at the cost of minimalizing protection of humanitarians advocacy. In reality, that perceived protection – emblems, resources, organization, etc. – makes humanitarians look like legitimate military and political targets for certain groups and therefore renders them open to attack in the same way as a combatant but with no means of defending themselves.

Those problems are especially acute in the national aid worker context. The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) has indicated in a 2011 report that despite overall improvements in aid agencies’ security risk management, national aid workers perceive continued inequities in security support compared with their international counterparts.

Placing protection of humanitarians more firmly under the umbrella of protection of civilians may go some way to eradicating issues with respect to operational ‘siloing’, resource allocation and international/national worker inequities. The mandate of protection of civilians encompasses a wide range of activities designed to obtain ‘full respect for the rights of all individuals in accordance with international law – international humanitarian, human rights, and refugee law – regardless of their age, gender, social, ethnic, national, religious, or other background’ (an Inter-Agency Standing Committee (IASC) endorsed definition). Since 1999, protection of civilians has received widespread attention and resources from critical institutional and humanitarian actors and has a framework for prevention and response that is far more developed than that which applies to the protection of humanitarians.

There is certainly institutional and cultural support for a more thorough system of humanitarian worker protection. The United Nations Security Council, for instance, has issued several resolutions condemning attacks on aid workers (most prolifically with respect to the treatment of humanitarian personnel in Syria) and has previously emphasized, in Resolution 1502, that attacks on aid workers constitute war crimes. Garnering this influential support and directing it towards addressing the gaps in international law with respect to how protection is framed, therefore, can only be welcomed.

Despite the fact that a review of the role of international law in the protection of humanitarian personnel would be a positive move, international law plays a frustratingly limited role in conflicts where motivations of politics and religion often have the final say. Humanitarian protection is a complex and multifaceted issue and only a coordinated effort across all risk and security areas can foster the levels of change demanded by the tragedies too often witnessed in humanitarian missions the world over.

As part of that coordinated effort, August 19, 2014, marks World Humanitarian Day, a day conceived to increase awareness of humanitarian work around the world and encourage greater dialogue on key challenges. You can show your support and find out more about the Messengers of Humanity campaign by visiting www.worldhumanitarianday.org.

Starvation in Syria: Is it time to reconsider humanitarian corridors?

Photo credit: MSGT Robert Hargreaves Jr., USAF

Photo credit: MSGT Robert Hargreaves Jr., USAF

 

Hostilities in Syria have displaced millions and killed hundreds of thousands. Every day, people die because they lack goods and services essential for their survival. Much of the suffering is a consequence of the violence of the past three years, but the failure of aid efforts to relieve the attendant humanitarian crisis has undoubtedly contributed. With the suffering showing no signs of abating, and the violence expected to escalate in the coming days in response to the presidential elections, there is a case for reconsidering how aid operations are being carried out in Syria. In particular, it seems time to reconsider the use of humanitarian corridors, arguably the most controversial – yet potentially most effective – of all assistance models. Whilst reserving judgement on the question of whether corridors could work as a universal response to crises, it certainly seems reasonable to say that the scale and severity of suffering in Syria renders them viable in the present one.

Humanitarian corridors are strips of land, sea or air that are demilitarised to allow aid convoys safe and rapid entry into particular areas of a conflict zone (often besieged cities with large civilian populations). Pursuant to negotiations on geographic and temporal requirements, corridors are established in a certain location for a certain length of time and are then suspended. Some reopen regularly in the same place; others never open in the same place more than once.

On the face of it, it is clear why these delivery models are attractive. Properly established and protected (for example by a multi-State peacekeeping force), corridors provide a highly structured and swift way of delivering aid. Crucially in light of frequent attacks on aid workers, they also render that delivery much safer.

If humanitarian corridors are so attractive, then, why is there such resistance to their use in Syria? For one thing, historically corridors have not escaped the usual politicisation and corruption rife in conflicts. In the 2009 Gaza War, for example, aid delivered through corridors was misappropriated and sold to merchants affiliated with Hamas, a militant and political organisation that governs the Gaza Strip. Corridors are not alone in that regard. Most aid mechanisms, whether organised through major international organisations such as the United Nations or through local non-governmental organisation networks, suffer the same fate.

There is also a series of unanswered legal questions that undermines the establishment of corridors. We know, for example, that corridors are most effective when they are established with the consent of the respective parties.In fact, several international law instruments require that humanitarian relief only be delivered with the consent of the receiving State.[i] But we do not know, legally speaking at least, whether there are circumstances under which corridors can be established in the absence of that consent. Indeed, such establishment may constitute unlawful interference with the internal affairs of the receiving State, thus rendering any assisting States internationally responsible and, of particular concern, establishment without consent by assisting organisations may render the organisations and their personnel subject to prosecution under domestic law. In the absence of answers to these and other important questions, and in lacking the vital legal understandings that would flow therefrom, it is unsurprising that such resistance exists.

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