I am not sure if I mentioned this already, but while
completing the course on African Conflicts last semester, I developed an
interest in the field of humanitarian assistance and have consequently signed
up for two DU courses in the respective program. I am certainly just a beginner
in this field, but the course readings, as well as the on-the-ground experience
professors and fellow classmates share, have already shown me that there is
more to humanitarian assistance than the desire and obligation to offer help to
those who most need it.
Good intentions and the willingness to offer succor
to individuals and regions torn by conflict or disasters, whether natural or
man-made, are certainly important, but it seems that the impetus to deliver that
help is often fueled by various geopolitical, ideological, or plain selfish
reasons. Often, the hungry continue to be hungry, the abused continue to be
abused, and the ill continue to be ill or simply die, despite the billions of
dollars, or euros, or (insert currency of choice here) being pumped on a
regular basis into the bank accounts of many concerned organizations.
A particular topic that sparked a comment from me and
is responsible for this post is the idea that what humanitarian programs often target
is the improved quality of life for affected populations. I understand that the
ultimate goal is for every person in the world to at least have a base level of
a quality of life that allows him or her to enjoy life without worrying, beyond
a certain accepted level, about being hungry, being homeless, or dying from a
preventative disease. The problem arises when different people profess very
divergent ideas on what the minimum requirements are for a basic quality of
life. Is having a house, a vocation, and access to basic education and healthcare enough? Or
should all people be able to have more and want more in order to experience “the
good life”?
Ultimately, except for the worst case scenario,
whether one is poor or has a poor quality of life depends on whom that person
compares herself to. Growing up, I had no notion of the concept of being poor.
Now, I am finding out and learning that evidently I was poor. I was poor from
the perspective of many in the developed world. I had one pair of summer shoes (although
I preferred going barefoot) and one pair of winter boots (that leaked by the
way). New clothes meant the school year must be starting. There was one kind of
chewing-gum in the store and the best sweets I could get were the ones made by
my mother (which were delicious if you must know). For some, that is poverty.
For me, that was the best childhood I could ask for.
I had no idea I was considered poor until the iron
curtain was lifted and the wonders of the West flooded our stores. Yes, I could
finally get anything a child in a developed country could have. Problem was, I
could not afford to buy most of the new items filling the local shops. Nothing had
really changed. I still had food, and clothes, and a roof above my head, but
for the first time in my life, there were things I could not buy. And that
meant I was poor.
Perspective, then, does matter. Should humanitarian
actors live in the best houses and drive the newest car models when they
deliver assistance or should they blend in with the local communities? Depends
on what their purpose is, I guess.
-
Krasi
