Humanitarianism

Theorizing on humanitarian rationale, means, and purpose has much expanded over the past decades, mirroring a similar expansion of actual on-the-ground humanitarian action. Humanitarianism, in the eyes of a wary supporter, has sometimes even replaced politics as usual, being seen as “the secular religion of the new millennium.” ^{Footnote 3} However, humanitarianism is by no means a coherent set of views.

Humanitarianism, in its oldest and most traditional form, is a response to human suffering and acute needs. Driven by the values of compassion, charity, pity, and care, it intuitively arises from our acknowledgement that involuntary human suffering is bad and is built on our impulses to act on this recognition. It is a topic of debate whether humanitarianism has to rely solely on voluntary actions, or whether it actually can be enforced. ^{Footnote 4} The principle of humanity rather than of humanitarianism is often used to denote the latter. I will here stick with the more prevalent view that does not associate humanitarianism with coercion.

For the supporters of traditional humanitarianism, the language of human rights tends to be too political, thus complicating discourse; and conscious attempts are made by these supporters to distance themselves from local and international politics. The emergency and exceptionality of humanitarian actions tends to suspend all other concerns; ^{Footnote 5} however, focusing on human suffering alone can be seen as problematic, or even, as one author claims, a “sentimental, paternalistic, and privileged discourse of philantrophy and charity.” ^{Footnote 6} As the goal of saving lives reigns supreme, other aspects of the crisis become invisible, or at least insignificant. Political responsibility is not demanded, and the immediacy of the emergency dislocates attention from context, structural issues such as poverty and inequality, and history. As complex political circumstances become cloaked in the language of suffering, it is almost as if people should be saved after an earthquake but are then free to die of starvation and poverty. The victims can suffer but not speak, and they are not given an opportunity to use a more dignified language; for example, that of rights and justice. Paradoxically, then, although traditional humanitarian organizations have long viewed themselves as “outside” or “the opposite of” politics, critics still accuse them of being collaborators with the political forces of injustice.

There has been dissatisfaction with the traditional humanitarian approach for many decades. One of the important motives for the establishment of the well-known humanitarian organization Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) was the neutrality policy of the Red Cross, as, for example, the latter’s reluctance to speak out about the Holocaust during World War II. Instead of the Red Cross’s neutrality and respect for national sovereignty, MSF wanted to advocate, to speak out, to bear witness to pain and distress, and, ultimately, to declare borders irrelevant for human suffering. This approach—human rights-humanitarianism—demands responsible politics, law, and justice, and sees human suffering largely as a result of shortcomings in statecraft.

At first sight, it might be surprising to start looking for blame and responsibility in cases of disaster, be it tsunamis, earthquakes, tornados, flooding, or mudslides. Humans did not create those events, but do have to deal with consequences. But is this claim true? A comparison between two well-known disasters might illustrate the issue of responsibility. In 2010, the world experienced two major earthquakes. In Haiti, an earthquake of 7.0 magnitude killed approximately 150,000 people and flattened much of the infrastructure. Later, Chile had an earthquake with the magnitude of 8.8, the sixth largest earthquake to be recorded at the time, 500 times more powerful than the earthquake in Haiti; but “only” 525 people were killed. How can this difference be explained? ^{Footnote 7} Although humans are unable to avoid natural events such as tsunamis, earthquakes, or tornadoes, they are, on the one hand, capable of preparing for them and building up resilience in communities, and, on the other hand, are equally capable of creating additional vulnerabilities. The popular textbook Public Health Guide in Emergencies by Johns Hopkins and the Red Cross Red Crescent summarizes:

This recognition is one of the reasons why over the past decades, rights-humanitarianism has become more prevalent, and focus solely on decontextualized human suffering is seen as impossible, futile, or even naïve and dangerous. We can very often look for human responsibility, even in cases of natural disasters. What disasters have we chosen to prevent or alleviate, and which ones have we not?

It is difficult for humanitarian organizations to entirely distance themselves from politics. Humanitarian research can be appropriated for other purposes, and there are well-known dangers of complicity in humanitarian work, as, for example, when humanitarian organizations provide logistics in areas of ethnic violence, and the intervention to save people coincides with the interests of some parties to displace people. ^{Footnote 9}

Pragmatically, many humanitarian organizations combine the two discourses: that of human rights and that of traditional humanitarianism. The latter works best for fundraising, as emotional messages of suffering simply are effective. Even the more radical humanitarian agencies have seldom found it in their immediate financial interest to develop a more political rights-based consciousness with their domestic publics when appealing for large funds for those suffering from war and disasters. ^{Footnote 10} This is important, because international human rights law, although ratified by many and talked about loudly, “is distinguished by failure of application both locally and internationally,” ^{Footnote 11} thus leaving humanitarian organizations without many workable tools.

The most recent development in humanitarianism is the military-humanitarian intervention. Within this awkward partnership, humanitarian and military organizations have relied on each other for legitimation, security, and logistics, among other purposes. Lauded by some as necessary cooperation for providing efficient and professional assistance, this intervention is rejected by others as unethical and disastrous in the long term, as trust for the neutrality of humanitarian organizations is jeopardized, and the scope of interventions may be modified, if, for example, focus shifts to infrastructure rather than poverty prevention. ^{Footnote 12}

Several phenomena can be distinguished here, from the involvement of the actual military to militaristic activities of the humanitarian organizations themselves. The security discourse associated with the former is more openly normative, and is largely based on arguments from the international relations literature, especially realist and neoliberal thinking. After September 11, 2001, the proper management of desperation and conflict were seen as the main ways of escaping the threat of global chaos to the Western world. Various institutional cooperations—civil–military and public–private—are seen as crucial, and humanitarian intervention here is not merely about responding to the most acute needs for food, shelter, and medical attention, but also involves policing, monitoring violations, and institutional capacity building. The discourse of security has been increasingly applied to health, economic, and social needs, and the militarization of humanitarian intervention is part of that process. Ebola is a good example.

Even without the involvement of actual military might, the certain forcefulness and militarism of the recent humanitarian agenda has been questioned by some critics. Laurence McFalls has argued that “the benevolent dictatorship of humanitarian government based on scientific expertise and relying on the institutional form of the non-governmental organization has become the uncontested and uncontestable radical bio power of our age.” ^{Footnote 13} The concern is that humanitarianism is trumping international law and national sovereignty without proper legitimacy. However, if it is political legitimacy that is lacking in humanitarian intervention, then theories of global justice might well have the adequate theoretical tools to buttress humanitarian causes.

To summarize, the traditional charity- and compassion-based humanitarianism has been central in responding to human suffering and needs throughout history; however, it is increasingly considered insufficient by many contemporary humanitarians who propose a human-rights-based strategy to deal with the causes and the consequences of large-scale human suffering. This is very much linked to the realization that disasters can often be either avoided, or at least minimized, and that it is the duty of governments to do so. Although humans are unable to prevent an earthquake or tropical storm, we are able to enforce construction zones, early warning systems, and even social programs that promote the resilience of communities hit by disasters. If we assume that during disasters and humanitarian crises we are often justified in raising the issue of responsibility and in employing the language of human rights, then theories of justice are a logical place to look for arguments as well as for legitimation of the necessary interventions.

Theories of Global Justice and the Question of Responsibility

The point of theories of justice, which are traditionally nation based, is to argue for certain principles that should be adhered to in the institutional designs and distributive patterns within societies. Over the last decades, however, the issue of global justice has become increasingly popular as well as more urgent. The academic field of global justice and global ethics has grown considerably, and the subsequent description is by no means comprehensive. Most of the approaches that will subsequently be discussed have generated almost unmanageable numbers of commentaries and critiques. I have chosen to focus on selected cosmopolitan authors who offer competing accounts regarding the question of responsibility in global justice. This selection is meant to illustrate the variety of debates around global justice, and I will not be arguing for any one particular account. My implicit premise is that it makes sense to discuss global justice; therefore, I will leave aside approaches that, for various reasons, do not recognize this, such as that of Thomas Nagel. ^{Footnote 14} I will also leave aside accounts that largely limit justice-related duties to within national borders, as does John Rawls, ^{Footnote 15} as these accounts rarely have anything but humanitarian charity to offer to the global poor. Global justice has a wider scope than humanitarianism; however, there is an overlap when there are disasters, conflict zones, refugees, or even widespread poverty that makes certain populations routinely vulnerable to those threats. I will first discuss whether there is an obligation of justice to help those in need. If there is such an obligation, whose obligation is it?

Do we have an obligation to help those in need? An unqualified yes is the answer of Peter Singer, as it is suffering itself that creates in us a duty to respond. His straightforward and well-known argument is as follows ^{Footnote 16} :

1. 1) Suffering and death from lack of food, shelter, and medical care are bad.

2. 2) If it is in our power to prevent something bad from happening, without thereby sacrificing anything of comparable moral importance, we ought, morally, to do it.

Singer famously illustrates this principle with a drowning child: you see a child drowning in the pond, you could save the child with no danger to yourself, therefore you should do it. This principle takes no account of proximity or distance. Distance is not morally relevant when we have a duty to help, because now the world is a global village, so knowledge of local conditions is available. It is also clearly an individual-centered approach. Singer posits responsibility for action with individual people, and does not allow it to be delegated to the level of organizations and states. He also redescribes the traditionally distinct moral categories of duty and charity. Giving money and support for those in need is not generosity or kindness on the individual’s part; it is not a supererogatory act, but a requirement of justice. ^{Footnote 17} It is also interesting that this requirement of justice does not ask for responsibility, or even for causes. It is perfectly in line with the utilitarian theory that builds moral judgments on consequences and consequences only.

But not everyone is so generous, or so demanding. It is, therefore, common to ask who might be responsible for the global suffering that needs alleviating? Not us as individuals, says John Kekes, who regards Singer’s account as “rationally indefensible rampant moralism” and accuses Singer of equating allowing to die with killing, thus making us all into murderers. ^{Footnote 18} Kekes claims that the prevention of harm principle is only one ethical principle out of many. Another important principle would be that people should be responsible for the foreseeable consequences of their actions. In his view, a reason for much of the poverty that exists is overpopulation, and people are responsible for deciding how many children to have. He also points at evidence that aid does not always benefit those who are in need, but merely prolongs the problem while feeding corruption and charities. The analogy of the innocent drowning child does not work in his eyes—it is important who is drowning (maybe a contract killer)—because there might be “lifeguards” in the vicinity whose job it is to save people in need; for example, the governments of those countries whose populations are suffering should be functioning in this capacity. And the “real world” case is also that every day there are actually 10,000 drowning children in that pond, not just one.

Like Kekes, Thomas Pogge also thinks that it is important to factor in responsibility when discussing global suffering. But whereas Kekes blames the poor and the destitute of the world for their troubles, Pogge finds that it is the global institutional order of international organizations, trade systems and well-off countries that have blood on their hands. We, through electing politicians who support the global trade order and its principles, are responsible for reproducing poverty and its related ill-health. Pogge argues that our imposition of the existing global order is actively “causing poverty… I believe that we are involved in harming—and, more specifically, in massively violating the human rights of—the global poor.” ^{Footnote 19} The well-developed countries and the ruling classes of the poor countries benefit from the international order that simultaneously harms the populations of the poorer countries. It is not charity or assistance that we owe to the global poor, but rectification of injustice, a negative duty of stopping harm.

Social institutions affect health, and Pogge notes that poverty is the most important factor in explaining health deficits, the most common being malnutrition, unsafe drinking water, lack of sanitation, and no access to drugs. ^{Footnote 20} If the international institutional contexts and practices are responsible for creating certain health needs, then a proper reaction would be to prioritize the needs that the system is responsible for creating. Whether a needy person is a compatriot or not has no bearing on the duty to help if it is causality that matters. Pogge’s cosmopolitan argument is that “foreigners’ medical conditions in whose incidence we are materially involved have greater moral weight for us than compatriots’ medical conditions in whose incidence we are not materially involved.” ^{Footnote 21}

These all-or-nothing debates on global blame and responsibilities can be balanced with the nuanced account of Mathias Risse, who argues that the global order is not fundamentally unjust, but simply incompletely just, and that some evils and disasters that happen cannot be directly attributable to anyone. ^{Footnote 22} This means that whereas there is ample room to improve the foundations and working principles of the global institutional order to lessen the active harming a la Pogge, there is also still room for humanitarian sentiments to address suffering that is not directly the fault of those who are in a position to help.

Particular Theories for Particular Problems

The problems of global poverty and of humanitarian crises are diverse, their causes disparate, and their solutions complex. Any theory of justice that tries to respond and offer adequate solutions would have to be hugely complex to be able to motivate those who feel responsible for the plight of the poor, as well as those who do not, to cater to those who feel that every single human being has a duty to help ease suffering as well as to those who think that taking care of this is the duty of institutions and states, not individuals. All of these sentiments and arguments have a grain of truth in them, but it is not likely that such a theory-of-all-theories is forthcoming any time soon.

Perhaps it is not needed. Michael Walzer has argued that instead of a comprehensive “single philosophically grounded” theory, what is needed is a minimalist one with three major components: “the recognition of people like ourselves, concern for their suffering, and a few widely shared moral principles. If these three amount to a theory, it is, so to speak, a ‘little’ theory, one that is incomplete in much the same way that global society is incomplete.” ^{Footnote 23} Amartya Sen has asserted that in their quest for a perfect theory of justice that is fully comprehensive and consistent, philosophers have ended up with something quite impracticable, and perhaps even harmful. ^{Footnote 24} Sarah Clark Miller’s work has drawn attention to the fact that for human well-being, much more than justice is needed, and that a feminist ethics of care is a useful starting point to raise the importance of dignity, trust, and relationships, even in humanitarian contexts. ^{Footnote 25}

I think that criticisms pointing to the inadequacies and the often-unfounded premises of largely idealized theories of justice are substantial, ^{Footnote 26,Footnote 27} albeit not always charitable. Academic philosophical work should not be mistaken for a specific “to do” blueprint. But I disagree with the view that looking for systematic and abstract principles is an unnecessary or even unethical endeavor in itself. It is obvious that abstractions rarely manage to do justice to the complexities of real life; however, they also sometimes succeed in providing a systematic, structural perspective. My view is that what is perhaps needed (and even better, may already exist) are theories of justice in the plural. Pragmatically speaking, the already-existing theories of justice offer very useful insights and tailored answers to the numerous yet disparate problems of global suffering and well-being. The fact that none of the theories is perfect enough to adequately deal with all the problems, and their causes and solutions, is perhaps not a problem at all. Pogge’s account should and could be utilized for initiating a fairer global institutional order, Singer’s account should and could be utilized for dealing with lack of funding, and Martha Nussbaum’s capabilities account could and should be utilized for normative guidelines in assessing social policies. ^{Footnote 28} Military-humanitarian interventions could be an appropriate tool for certain circumstances; in others, traditional humanitarianism and the nonprofit sector are capable of responding as needed.