beirut lebanon volunteers ben wedeman pkg intl ldn vpx_00014414.jpg
Volunteers pick up the pieces as Beirut cries out for help rebuilding
02:15 - Source: CNN

Editor’s Note: Arwa Damon is a senior international correspondent based in CNN’s Istanbul bureau and the president and co-founder of the International Network for Aid, Relief and Assistance. The views expressed in this commentary are her own. View more opinion articles on CNN.

CNN  — 

I am angry at the trajectory of our evolution as a species. I am angry at us, that we created a world where being a “humanitarian” is a “thing” and not the norm.

Arwa Damon profile page image headshot

The kindness of strangers exists. That I know. It’s literally the lifeblood of my charity the International Network for Aid, Relief and Assistance, which facilitates medical care for war-wounded children who are unable to access the treatment they need.

It’s in the army of volunteers who descended upon Beirut’s devastated neighborhoods and swept, cleaned, carried debris for days from the streets and inside people’s homes. It’s in those who choose not to charge rent during the Covid-19 pandemic; those who had businesses that they transformed into food delivery and mask-making entities; in the individual who does not walk past the beggar or homeless person on the street, but stops for them. It’s in those who World Humanitarian Day commemorates, aid workers killed or injured while trying to do right by those less fortunate, and those who continue to try to do so. And yet that is not the narrative of our human collective. For if it were, we would not be where we are today. We would be in a better place.

There are those who are fighting every day to try to make even the smallest difference in the lives of people who have so little and who have been robbed of so much. I do not know a single humanitarian worker who is not utterly exhausted, and emotionally drained.

I often ask myself: why is it so hard to do the right thing? Why are we humans so fundamentally flawed that selfishness, greed, hunger for power and disregard for others have become the predominant definers of our collective? For we are the cause of the biggest tragedies. We are the creators of greatest humanitarian crises. We are our own worst enemy. But we do have the power to change that.

I fundamentally believe that we can do better by each other – because I see awe-inspiring courage in activists braving oppressive governments, I see inspiration among people who already have little giving to those who have even less, I see heartening solidarity in the wake of inexplicable disaster.

Children gather at the Moria refugee camp in Lesbos, Greece. This photo is part of a collaboration between CNN and London's Imperial War Museum, Life in a Camp, which launches next month.

It takes something as incomprehensible and horrific as the Lebanon blast to capture the world’s attention, but even that is finite. Other crises have drifted from view. What of the nearly 80 million refugees around the world?

From Bangladesh to South Sudan, to Myanmar, Syria and Somalia, the needs – food, shelter, medicine, education, the chance to rebuild shattered lives and communities – are more desperate than they have ever been. But they may as well exist on another planet.

I was recently talking with one of my many wounded friends in Beirut, a psychoanalyst, about why cruelty towards one another exists on such a grand scale.

“Kindness is not as powerful as destruction.” She said. “Building something takes time, destruction takes seconds.”

Our conversation should not be dismissed as an emotional reaction to Beirut’s horrific blast or a by-product of my over-developed cynicism. We live in a world where, despite the connectivity – the window into others’ realities that social media has created – it feels like we are growing increasingly immune to the suffering of others. We live in a world where we spend hundreds of billions of dollars on military might, yet if a fraction of that were diverted towards humanitarian aid, hunger might cease to exist.

While governments do provide some funding, it’s far from enough, and too many are largely apathetic, energize a false sense of fear of “the other” and turn humanitarian aid into another pawn on the geopolitical chessboard.

The knock-on effect of the coronavirus pandemic on the world’s many acute humanitarian crises has been profound. Funding has been diverted or dried up, aid budgets have been slashed, NGOs search desperately for ways to keep essential activities alive, state actors look the other way.

According to the UN, “In 2020, nearly 168 million people worldwide will need humanitarian assistance and protection,” he said. “That represents about one person in 45 on the planet. It is the highest figure in decades.”

And yet aid agencies have nowhere near enough funding to even begin addressing the scale of the need.

The individual response to Covid-19, in many ways, epitomizes what we can become. It feels as if those of us who have soap, running water, the means to buy food, disinfectant and face masks have become more acutely aware of the plight of those who do not. It’s as if it created a freeze-frame moment of realization – What if I had to face this in a refugee camp, a slum, a war zone? – that led to inspiring stories across the globe of those who have transformed that moment into something bigger than themselves.

We need to stop destroying each other and our planet. Our minds, our creativity have resulted in extraordinary things. There are amazing individuals, philanthropists and organizations trying to alter the current balance of our world. We need to focus on their missions. I do believe that if more of us work together we can succeed.

Follow CNN Opinion

  • Join us on Twitter and Facebook

    I recognize that the numbers can seem overwhelming, that the challenges and complexities can feel suffocating, that there is a sense of helplessness and questions of what we can each do to truly make a difference. None of us is going to change the world alone. But if we keep dismissing the impact we can have as individuals, then what chance do we have of veering off our current trajectory? Nothing is too small, no gesture is insignificant, no donation too little; for that all feeds into building a collective good.

    We can do better. We can do more. We can build and work towards a future where World Humanitarian Day celebrates all of us.