HUMANIFESTO – EDITION 2

On the road from N’Djamena to Geneva, 1 December 2024

Dear Humanitarian Community,

I’ve been on the road this week, from Port Sudan to El Genina, West Darfur, via Kassala, Farchana, Adre, Addis Ababa, and N’Djamena. Huge thanks to the brilliant teams in Sudan, Chad and Ethiopia who made the missions a success. A highlight of this week has been meeting so many UN staff, in town halls, over meals, and on the ground. I’ve learnt a huge amount from working alongside Clementine Nkweta-Salami, a humanitarian with three decades of experience, leading the Sudan effort in-country with such patience, wisdom and tenacity.

And to see the way OCHA heads Gemma, Dieudonné and Paul and their teams stay positive as they quietly fix the multitude of problems that a visit on this scale throws up. I promise to return soon, but not too soon.

We have worked hard to get more attention for Sudan through interviews (e.g. BBC’s Today programme), a media statement, Al Jazeera News, and various video packages and on social media (e.g. here, here and here). We’ve worked equally hard to support those gripping the coordination of our effort, to listen to those we serve, and cut through obstacles to access. I feel confident that we can support the ambitions of our teams to scale up response. We now need to galvanise wider support and funding. It was also particularly important to get into Darfur– the first time a UN Principal has been able to do so since the war started – opening a track for more cross line engagement, in addition to our cross-border operation.

In an IDP camp outside Port Sudan, we launched the campaign for 16 Days of Activism on women and girls. Throughout the visit, we heard harrowing accounts of the war on women. It was a privilege to spend time with a humanitarian heroine, Mama Nour, and some of the women she is supporting. I am in awe of her leadership, and their courage, and I will never forget their stories (some of which NPR was keen to hear). I was so impressed with the generosity of host communities in Chad. 

The great Lyse Doucet joined us for the whole trip in Sudan and Chad. She is unmatched at finding ways to create space for people to tell their stories, and I recommend her pieces (online and on TV). In planes and on bumpy roads, she and I talked a lot about how hard it is to ensure that the voices of those swept up by crisis are shared. The information ecosystem is contested, crowded, eroded, vandalised. I am thinking a lot about where and how to land the right messages. In the ‘80s and ‘90s, it took journalists, rock stars and campaigners to shake the world into action. In their best days, social media and savvy comms shook up campaigning, and placed action at the heart of activism. But now the hashtags and slogans can feel hollow. I used to be more idealistic about social media, but still maintain that - if we fight for it - it can become a place for human connection. But we’ll need fresh creativity - a willingness to listen, and a readiness to go where the people we need to hear us are - if we are to find ways to make our signal cut through the noise. After this week, I’m even more convinced that the key is ensuring the voices of those hit by crisis are heard. They did not say to me: 'look at my deprivation, please help'. They said: ‘look at our potential. We are you, and you are us. Our lives are connected'. 

I’ve asked many humanitarians how they retain the emotional resilience for the work. Music is the top answer. I’ve struggled to be away from my family these last two weeks, and I'm conscious that so many make much, much greater sacrifices. The song that I was listening to as I drove away from them two weeks ago after a tough Sunday evening was Dimanche Soir by Grand Corps Malade. Do let me know if you have recommendations on X or through LinkedIn.

Finally, however tough the work we do, I think it is vital that we hold fast to a central, hopeful narrative about the world we are working for. We do this work not despite the challenges, but because of them. The people I met this week keep me hopeful. I’ve seen and heard the worst of what humanity can do this week, but I’ve also seen the best. My idealism is altered, but it is intact. I hope yours is too.

All the best,

Tom