Shaun Hughes (left), WFP Country Director for Palestine, walks amid massive destruction in Gaza. Credit: WFP/Maxime Le Lijour
Excerpts from a statement by Tom Fletcher, Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator, to the Security Council, pursuant to resolution 2730 (2024) on the safety and security of humanitarian personnel and the protection of United Nations and associated personnel.
By Tom Fletcher
UNITED NATIONS, Apr 9 2026 (IPS)
In 2025, at least 326 humanitarians were recorded as killed across 21 countries, bringing the total number of humanitarians killed in three years to over 1,010. We recognise, grieve and honour each of our 326 colleagues, and commit the work ahead to their memory.
Of those over 1,000 deaths, more than 560 were in Gaza and the West Bank, 130 in Sudan, 60 in South Sudan, 25 in Ukraine and 25 in [the Democratic Republic of the Congo].
That number – over 1,000 – compares to 377 recorded as killed globally over the previous three years – so that’s almost tripling the death count. This is not an accidental escalation – it is the collapse of protection.
These humanitarians were killed while distributing food, water, medicine, shelter. They died in clearly marked convoys and on missions coordinated directly with authorities. And, too often, they were killed by Member States of the United Nations.
Credit: WFP/Sayed Asif Mahmud / Source: UN News
Humanitarians know we face risks. It is the nature of our work, the places in which we operate.
These deaths are not because we are reckless with our lives. They are because parties to the conflict are reckless with our lives.
So, on behalf of over a thousand dead humanitarians and their families, we ask: why?
Is it because the world no longer believes in Security Council resolution 2730, in which you spoke with such moral urgency about ending violence against humanitarians?
Is it because international humanitarian law, forged by a generation of wiser political leaders for just such a time as this, is no longer convenient?
Is it because it is more important to protect those designing, selling, supplying and firing lethal weapons – including drones, cyber tools, artificial intelligence – than protecting us?
Is it because those killing us feel no cost for their actions? How many were prosecuted? How many of their leaders resigned? On how many investigations did the UN Security Council insist? Were you ever selective in your outrage?
Or is it because Member States see these numbers as collateral damage, part of the fog of war? Or worse, are we now seen as legitimate targets?
And perhaps the most chilling question: if these deaths were ‘preventable,’ why then were they not prevented?
Over 110 Member States have chosen to act together through the political declaration on the protection of humanitarians. Yet across multiple crises, humanitarians are not just being killed.
Our action is being restricted, penalized, delegitimized. We are told where not to go, whom not to help. We are harassed or arrested for doing our job. And we are lied about – and those lies have these consequences.
And, of course, when humanitarians are harmed, aid often stops. Clinics close, food doesn’t arrive. In Yemen, 73 UN and dozens of NGO personnel remain arbitrarily detained by the Houthis. In Afghanistan and Yemen, women humanitarians are prevented from doing their jobs.
In Gaza, Israel restricts UN agencies and international NGOs. In Myanmar, insecurity and access constraints cut off aid to over 100,000 people in a single month.
And in Ukraine, drone attacks have forced aid groups to pull back from frontline communities.
In all these cases, the results of the deaths of humanitarians are too often the death of hope for millions who rely on them. These trends, alongside the collapse in funding for our lifesaving work, are a symptom of a lawless, bellicose, selfish and violent world. Killing humanitarians is part of the broader attack on the UN Charter and on international humanitarian law.
International humanitarian law was never, and is not now, an academic exercise. In honour of our colleagues killed, and in solidarity with those now risking their lives, we ask you to act with much greater conviction, consistency and courage.
I normally conclude with three asks of this Council. But it seems insulting to over one thousand colleagues killed to echo back to you the commitments of SCR 2730: protection, integrity, accountability.
We come here not to remind you of these commitments, but to challenge you to uphold them.
Because if we cast aside these hard-won principles, then the integrity of this Council, and the laws we are here to protect, die with our colleagues.
IPS UN Bureau
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By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Apr 8 2026 (IPS)
We live in a century of extraordinary achievement.
Humanity has split the atom, mapped the genome, and sent astronauts to the Moon, with plans now underway to reach Mars. Our knowledge has expanded, our tools have become more powerful, and our capacity to shape the world around us exceeds anything previous generations could have imagined. We communicate instantaneously across continents, diagnose diseases earlier, monitor climate patterns in real time, and design artificial intelligences that can aid in everything from medicine to climate modelling.
James Alix Michel
And yet, for all this advancement, we are caught in a troubling paradox.We possess the means to protect our planet, restore degraded ecosystems, and build a future that is regenerative and sustainable. The Earth still holds enough resources to feed, shelter, and nourish every person on it.
The science is clear, the solutions are known, and the pathways are increasingly understood. We know how to phase out the most damaging fossil fuels, how to design circular economies, and how to restore forests and oceans on a large scale. The question is not whether we can heal, but whether we choose to.
Instead of using this knowledge to nurture life, we spend trillions on weapons, war, and systems of domination. We continue to refine instruments of destruction with the same ingenuity that once helped us survive as hunter gatherers.
From spears and arrows to missiles and nuclear arsenals, technology has evolved far faster than our moral imagination. The same species that can design satellites and decode life itself is also capable of perfecting the means to erase itself. We have turned our curiosity into a danger when it is not paired with humility.
War has become normalised. We export violence beyond our borders, fuel conflicts in distant lands, and justify the dehumanisation of others in the name of power, ideology, or fear.
In doing so, we risk losing sight of what it means to be human: to care, to share, to protect, and to build together. Our intelligence has grown, but our ethics have often lagged behind. We have impressive control over external environments, yet we struggle to govern our own impulses—greed, resentment, the desire for domination over cooperation.
We still behave as if survival depends on conquest, as though strength is measured by the capacity to destroy rather than by the courage to cooperate.
In that sense, humanity is trapped between two identities: one capable of profound creativity and compassion, and another still governed by ancient instincts of greed, lust for power, and tribal dominance.
We have evolved in technology, but not always in spirit. We built institutions meant to protect rights and distribute justice, yet those very institutions are often weaponised or hollowed out by self interest.
The Earth is still rich enough to nourish us all. The ocean still teems with life, the land can still grow food, and the air can still be cleansed. We have the tools to live in balance, instead of in excess. We can choose renewable energy systems that do not poison our skies, farming practices that restore soil instead of depleting it, and urban designs that integrate nature instead of paving it over.
The problem is not scarcity, but choices—choices that prioritise short term gain over long term survival, accumulation over equity, and fear over trust.
If humanity is to truly evolve, it must move beyond the old logic of domination and embrace a new ethic of stewardship. This is not a soft or sentimental vision. It is a hard, practical necessity if we want civilisation to continue.
Stewardship means recognising that power is not only the ability to control, but the responsibility to protect. It means designing economies that reward regeneration, not extraction; diplomacy that favours mediation over militarisation; and education systems that nurture empathy as much as efficiency.
Progress cannot be measured only by how far we can reach into space, or how fast we can compute. It must be measured by how well we can care for the planet and for one another. It must be measured by how peacefully we resolve our differences, how fairly we share resources, and how seriously we protect the rights of future generations.
True progress is the transition from a species that merely adapts to its environment, to one that consciously shapes it for the benefit of all life, not just a privileged few.
We have not lost our humanity. We have only forgotten it.
The challenge now is to rediscover it—not as a romantic ideal, but as a practical imperative.
In a world capable of such beauty, creativity, and connection, the only true insanity is the choice to destroy rather than to heal, to dominate rather than to share, and to fear rather than to love.
After all, the moon and the stars will remain, no matter how we choose; what is at stake is whether we will still be worthy of the Earth we were given.
That is the real test of our century. And it is one we must pass together.
IPS UN Bureau
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