(Photo by UN Ukraine via Wikimedia Commons/CC BY 2.0)
According to the Global Peace Index, the world is facing a “violent conflict crisis.” In 2023 alone, 59 countries were engaged in conflict, the highest number since the end of World War II. These conflicts have devastated infrastructure and displaced millions of civilians.
By April 2025, over 122.1 million people had been forcibly displaced from their homes, left to rely on luck and the goodwill of others for their survival. International governments and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) are addressing humanitarian crises and stepping in to help when government policies are too slow or lacking.
Last spring, I worked for an NGO on the Greek island of Samos, whose objective was to support refugees arriving from Turkey. Through the distribution of clothing and by running community centers, the NGO strived to restore dignity to asylum seekers facing deeply dehumanizing conditions as they waited for their asylum requests to be approved by the Greek government.
While good intentions drive NGO work, the current conception of humanitarian aid perpetuates problematic power dynamics. Humanitarians are eager to help, but self-reflection raises difficult questions: What power does helping grant humanitarians over those they assist? What systemic conditions allow NGOs to help while forcing others into dependence? And importantly, is the work fixing these problems, or inadvertently making them worse?
Historic Roots of Humanitarian Aid
Humanitarianism has a history that is closely intertwined with European colonialism. Throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, empires that expanded into the African, Asian, and American continents justified these conquests as so-called civilizing missions.
According to this logic, Indigenous Peoples of the territories were backward and in need of saving. Colonizers sought to force Indigenous Peoples to abandon their belief systems, cultures, and identities to become Europeanized, which in their minds was synonymous with the betterment of these populations. At the same time, they looted Indigenous lands for resources.
The narratives perpetuated by these missions are still applied today, although their names have changed. For example, the idea that some countries are developed and others are developing implies a linear trajectory for development and modernization. Western narratives imply that countries in the Global North are developed while countries in the Global South are playing catch-up.
This power imbalance is reinforced by the fact that European development was largely paid for through the extraction and exploitation of colonial resources and people, and that the globalized economic industries that replaced these economies are still based on those blueprints.
Colonial Legacies in Modern Humanitarianism
The humanitarian organizations now tasked with alleviating people’s suffering also implicitly strengthen narratives dictated by Western culture and identity. Humanitarians want to do good in the world, which is very honourable. However, most organizations mirror the civilizing missions of the past. Overwhelmingly, they originate in Western countries and impose their strategies without consulting the people there about the best way to approach the situation.
In addition, there is an inherent arrogance to contemporary humanitarianism, where the white saviour supposedly helps Indigenous Peoples and Peoples of Colour through their innate moral superiority. In this power dynamic, the aid worker is so free of problems that they can take care of themselves and others. Under this logic, the recipient of aid is unable to even take care of themselves and, as a result, is dependent on the charity of the aid worker.
These power dynamics are paternalistic. Paternalism can be defined as “a set of actions or policies designed to protect individuals from their own choices.” Humanitarianism is often accused of assuming that the populations it aims to protect are unable to decide for themselves what they need, and that if they do, they will make choices that worsen their situation.
There is often very little space for self-determination in these spaces. Help is offered within a structure determined by the organization, and the value of self-empowerment and agency is rarely prioritized.
Navigating Unequal Power Dynamics
Not all humanitarian organizations institutionalize power structures equally. While working for the NGO in Greece, there were active efforts from within the organization to minimize white saviorism as much as possible. However, by nature, it was difficult to avoid this entirely.
Nearly all long-term volunteers for the organization were Westerners with economic safety nets. We could fly home with our hearts full and be showered with praise for being good people after volunteering for a few months in Greece. While we were there, we would work full-time Monday through Friday and then spend our weekends having fun, enjoying the island. There is, of course, nothing wrong with having time off, and it is important not to punish yourself for not experiencing the same conditions as displaced people.
One main aspect I found difficult to navigate was the responsibility we had to protect our service users’ mental health. In the community centers, volunteers were tasked to create an atmosphere of enjoyment and safety for everyone. The main objective was for the asylum-seekers using our spaces to feel as respected and dignified as possible. To do so, we would play games, make art, and chit-chat.
However, we were instructed and trained to be very careful about which questions we asked and how much interest we showed. The situation on the island was, and still is, very difficult for people in the asylum process. There are very few psychologists, and a lot of people have experienced trauma. We needed to remain conscious of the risk of retraumatization. We were instructed to avoid asking any questions that could potentially trigger the asylum-seekers.
We couldn’t ask about family, where they were from, anything about their past, or where they would like to go. All of these topics could trigger flashbacks to something that is gone forever or create false hope for people who don’t yet know whether they are safe.
While the emphasis on protection is well-intentioned, it is also paternalistic. What right do NGOs and humanitarian aid workers have to determine how resilient a forcibly displaced person is, when we have never experienced a fraction of their suffering? Why assume that displaced persons are unable to decide for themselves what they are willing to share? In trying to protect and avoid harm, are we unintentionally making decisions that cause more harm than good?
When NGOs Fill the Gaps Left by the State
It is important to keep in mind that much of the work NGOs do is driven by the state’s failure to address social and political problems. Most crises that NGOs address need structural solutions that can only be provided through policy measures and intergovernmental collaboration.
For example, Greece is signatory to the UN’s 1951 Refugee Convention and the 1967 Refugee Protocol. As an European Union (EU) member state, it is also bound by Article 18 of the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights, which guarantees the right to asylum. International, EU, and Greek law all bind the state to the protection of human rights.
The NGO I volunteered for was necessary because the Greek government was, and still is, failing to treat asylum seekers arriving on its soil in a dignified manner. We were one of the only suppliers of clothing to asylum seekers. Without this service, many people would have lacked warm enough clothing in the winter. The camp the asylum seekers stay in is a Reception and Pre-Deportation center, which has been described as a prison.
People are bound by curfews, 24/7 surveillance, and extensive security checks for requesting asylum–a fundamental human right. NGOs on the island have stepped in where the Greek government has fallen short. Originally temporary responses to the 2016 Migration Crisis, these projects have become permanent fixtures, allowing the Greek government to treat its legal obligations as optional. When state services fail, NGOs step in to take over state responsibilities.
The Humanitarian Catch-22
NGOs are meant to identify problems and advocate for those suffering from structural inadequacies. This is a paradox. Humanitarian NGOs are established when they identify a problem and seek to raise awareness of the issue and, at the same time, address it as effectively as possible while policy catches up.
However, because they are charity-based and receive unstable income, they have to prioritize funding their projects. This prioritization of funds comes at the expense of the reach of their advocacy efforts. At the same time that they address the problem, they are relieving policymakers of the pressure to solve it themselves, inadvertently upholding the status quo. It’s a Catch-22: if they do nothing, people suffer in the short term. If they do too much, people may suffer for much longer.
Rethinking Responsibility in Humanitarian Work
Humanitarian organizations have to reckon with their colonial legacies and how they manifest in their contemporary work. Constant reflection is necessary to determine who is really benefiting from their work. My experience in the field left me with more questions than answers. I started the job thinking I was definitely doing what was right, and left less certain about what the right thing even is.
Helping others, by definition, creates an uneven power relationship between those helping and those being helped. It is practically impossible to do what is best for everyone. Humanitarian NGOs must constantly work to improve their programs to reach as many people as possible, while at the same time doing the advocacy work necessary to make their programs redundant. Ultimately, their goal should be not to exist.
Edited by Gabrielle Andrychuk
