Introduction: Confronting Unprecedented Humanitarian Needs

Many of my most vivid memories from my time with the US Agency for International Development come from the agency’s humanitarian work around the world.

I was in New York City for the 2017 United Nations General Assembly not long after a devastating earthquake struck Mexico City. While walking to a meeting, I received a call from the White House to say that President Trump had offered President Peña Nieto “anything he needed” for his country’s relief efforts. The White House made it clear that it was my job to make that happen. After a couple of phone calls back to the agency, we mobilized a special search and rescue unit from Los Angeles that would reach the site before breakfast the following morning. Mexico was grateful, the White House was happy, and I was relieved.

I remember our responses to a range of humanmade disasters that occurred during my tenure like it was yesterday. There was my trip to Syria with the US Central Command when I was shown a burned-out soccer stadium in Raqqa and the remains of torture chambers that had been hidden under the stands. I was shown the makeshift centers where USAID and its partners were providing emergency food, water, and medicine to desperate Syrian families, and met with civil society groups working to establish the threads of community governance.

My time with USAID taught me so much about humanitarian needs. I learned that the men and women who spring into action when disaster strikes are talented, dedicated professionals, who are ready at a moment’s notice to mobilize and help families and communities get through their darkest times and deepest suffering.

In my time with USAID, I took multiple trips to Cúcuta, the Colombian city on the country’s border with Venezuela. Working with the World Food Program, UNICEF, the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, and others, the US supported Venezuelan families fleeing Nicolás Maduro’s tyranny and his disastrous economic mismanagement. When I first met with families on the Colombian side of the Simon Bolivar bridge, they told me they had walked “three or four days” from their homes to reach Cúcuta. On my second visit, I heard “three or four weeks.” On my next visits, I heard of journeys that were even longer and more treacherous. Most were tired and weak—American generosity would be lifesaving to them. 

There was also my trip to camps of internally displaced persons in Burma where Rohingya families were essentially held prisoner by government soldiers in fenced encampments. Working with UNICEF and other organizations, we provided food and medicine. There was a palpable sense of despair hanging over these camps because the Rohingya wanted so much more—education, employment, and a chance at a better life—things the ruling regime did everything in its power to keep from them.

And I remember my very first overseas trip as administrator to the Horn of Africa, where I watched a food distribution in the Somali region of Ethiopia led by the World Food Program. That part of the country had been wracked by several consecutive years of drought, and it was teetering on the edge of famine. As I walked through the crowds gathered for the sacks of food and grain, an Ethiopian woman took me aside and asked a simple, but profound question. After she thanked me for the food we provided, she said what she really wanted to know was whether we could help her village with irrigation so she would never need food from us again.

My time with USAID taught me so much about humanitarian needs. I learned that the men and women who spring into action when disaster strikes are talented, dedicated professionals, who are ready at a moment’s notice to mobilize and help families and communities get through their darkest times and deepest suffering. I learned that the US is by far the world’s largest humanitarian donor—and while I’m proud of our generosity and leadership, I am more than a little irritated that other nations are not doing more to meet the historic levels of need around the world. And I was reminded that humanitarian assistance is treatment, not cure. Everywhere I traveled, people were endlessly grateful for what we provided in their time of need. But at every turn, they also made clear that they really wanted self-reliance. By helping to boost their resilience and create economic opportunity, we could not only get them through those dark moments but we could strengthen the chances of them never needing humanitarian assistance again.

The record levels of human displacement that we see in so many parts of the world can seem overwhelming. The protracted conflicts and crises driving so much of the humanitarian need can seem insurmountable. However, the stories in this issue of the Wilson Quarterly serve to remind us that we have the capacity to help people through their moments of crisis.

The world's humanitarian community is at a crossroads moment. It’s painfully obvious that there are humanitarian fires burning in many parts of the world, from Gaza to Moldova, from Haiti to Sudan, to the Democratic Republic of Congo and more. The current situation is unsustainable unless other countries step up their contributions and work together to address the underlying conditions driving humanitarian need.

Technology is helping to deliver assistance more efficiently and effectively than ever before, and only a relatively small number of protracted crises have caused so much of the world’s humanitarian need. But more countries need to give more financial assistance if we’re going to begin to satisfy the level of need out there. Those protracted crises aren’t just distant dilemmas—they are, and need to be seen as, everybody’s business.

This fall 2024 issue of the Wilson Quarterly, titled “Confronting Unprecedented Humanitarian Needs,” shows that the current needs and responses are not only as intense as they’ve ever been, but will escalate unless something changes. The issue brings together dedicated professionals who have been working as humanitarian responders for decades, and who share vital insights and lessons that can help us address this new reality.

Looking closely at the data, we get a sense of how things have changed over the last decade. Leaders from USAID, the United Nations, the International Organization for Migration, and the International Committee for the Red Cross share their analysis on how we got to this moment and what is required to make progress. NGO responders on the frontlines share challenges and triumphs while working to address mental health, maternal and newborn health, nutrition, gender-based violence, climate impacts, and more—all as they navigate conflicts, natural disasters, and disease outbreaks. We hear from entrepreneurs harnessing technology to overcome the toughest of obstacles and from faith-based organizations who are living their deeply held values each day to help those in need. 

The record levels of human displacement that we see in so many parts of the world can seem overwhelming. The protracted conflicts and crises driving so much of the humanitarian need can seem insurmountable. However, the stories in this issue of the Wilson Quarterly serve to remind us that we have the capacity to help people through their moments of crisis. Equipped with emerging technologies, informed by the lessons we learn in each humanitarian response, powered by our sense of moral duty, we can lift lives and strengthen communities no matter what comes our way.

Ambassador Mark A. Green is president and CEO of the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. He previously served as the administrator of USAID from 2017 to 2020.

Cover photo: While in Cúcuta, Columbia, then USAID Administrator Mark A. Green takes a tour of the warehouse holding supplies. Photo from Ambassador Mark A. Green, used with permission.