heba

22 December 2023

In March 2022, not long after the start of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, The New Humanitarian hosted a conversation titled: Whose Suffering Counts?

We discussed the world’s near-sole focus on Ukraine, to the exclusion of other crises with similar or even higher levels of humanitarian suffering, like Ethiopia or Haiti.

There’s a reason why attention was so skewed. 

As Mel Bunce, head of the journalism department at City, University of London, noted: “There are so few [media] – really truly few – that occupy a global, cosmopolitan outlook that's genuinely divorced from the nation-state and following those humanitarian principles of all lives being truly equal.”

This partisanship was on display once again this year in the coverage of the violence between Israel and Hamas.

As my colleague Patrick Gathara, The New Humanitarian’s senior editor for inclusive storytelling, wrote in the Nieman Journalism Lab: International media have dehumanised Palestinians and valorised official Israeli narratives justifying their slaughter. (The New Humanitarian detailed the double standards in media coverage in this Editorial).

As Patrick pointed out, dehumanising portrayals have long been a feature of how the global press presents much of the world, especially communities in crisis and in the Global South.

But the crises in Ukraine and in Gaza have made ever more clear the need for media that see their audiences as truly universal; that treat all lives as having equal value; and that are not aligned – consciously or not – with any national or geopolitical agendas.

The New Humanitarian is one such outlet. We have worked hard this year to stay true to a universalist vision in which all suffering counts equally. Our coverage of Gaza – from the early days – was distinct in this regard, instilled with values of humanity. But we have also continued to shine a light on neglected crises around the world, from gang violence in Central America and Haiti to Nagorno-Karabakh’s already forgotten refugees; from violence in the Sahel to the languishing state of migrants, both in Europe and on South-South migration paths; from the conflicts in the Central African Republic and the Democratic Republic of the Congo to Yemen and Myanmar.

In 2024, we will more actively share our approach and learnings from the practice of decolonised journalism with other newsrooms, as we begin to spearhead what we think is desperately needed: A Code of Global Media Ethics. 

This year, we’ve also sought to identify the trends driving unprecedented levels of need (look out for our flagship analysis of Trends to Watch early in January), and to map the most effective ways of helping affected people so that policymakers understand what can be done to reduce levels of suffering across the board. This has come in many forms and formats: from frontline reporting of COP28, to podcasts that rethink the future of aid and bring into the open some unspoken truths; from investigations that hold the humanitarian aid sector to account for fraud, sexual exploitation, and carbon emissions, to our analysis of trends in the sector, whether that’s the risks and opportunities of technology or giving voice to refugees.  

I am extremely proud of our team for the values that underpin our journalism, and for persevering in trying times.   

It has been a rough few years for those who care about suffering in the world. But this year has felt particularly difficult.

Spend time scrolling through our website, and you’re quickly overwhelmed. The conflict in Sudan – which dominated headlines earlier in the year – already feels far away, overtaken by yet more crises elsewhere. And what of the earthquakes in Türkiye and Syria, and in Morocco? The flooding in Libya? Drought and hunger in many parts of the world? Resurgence of preventable diseases? Continued violence in Ethiopia, Myanmar, Syria…

As I’m sure many others do, we sometimes ask ourselves: What’s the point? Does any of it make a difference? Our work is aimed at improving the lives of those affected by crises – and yet, year after year, suffering only seems to increase.

To answer that, I often quote NASA physicist and climate scientist Kate Marvel. Asked to give people hope about the climate crisis, she answers: “I don’t have any… The world we once knew is never coming back. I have no hope that these changes can be reversed.”

Instead, she concludes: “We need courage, not hope. Courage is the resolve to do well without the assurance of a happy ending.”

That is how I think about our work, and about the work of all those who seek to improve the state of the world. It may not make a difference, but we sure as hell have to try.

Next year, The New Humanitarian will continue doing so, under new leadership. As many of you already know, I announced earlier this year that I would be stepping down as CEO in 2024. This month, the Board of Directors chose my successor and I am very excited to say that The New Humanitarian will have in her the passion, energy, and talent to continue this hard work for many years to come. Stay tuned for more details early in the new year!  

For now, please accept my sincere appreciation to all those who have joined us in our journey to become a transformative newsroom and who have helped us deliver on our strategy to build better journalism: to our readers, our members, our donors, our contributors, our Board of Directors, and, of course, our staff, thank you!

Let me end this letter by wishing you courage for the year ahead.

 

Sincerely, 

Heba  

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