Duty of Care in Humanitarian Crises

Protecting Staff to Serve Beneficiaries Ethically and Effectively

After more than twenty-five years leading organisations, programmes and coordinating water, sanitation and hygiene responses across South Asia, East Africa, the Middle East and beyond, I have come to see duty of care not as a compliance exercise but as the quiet foundation that makes ethical humanitarian work possible. From the Haiti earthquake and cholera outbreak, the Rohingya response in Cox’s Bazar, conflict and cholera in Tigray and Amhara, the Taliban takeover in Afghanistan, and the ongoing crisis in Gaza (Palestine), the same truth has repeated itself: when we fail to protect the people who deliver assistance, we ultimately fail the people we claim to serve.

Organisations carry two interconnected ethical responsibilities — a duty to their staff and a duty to the communities they aim to assist. These duties are not in competition. They reinforce each other. Neglecting one undermines the other.
Ethical Duty to Staff

The ethical duty to staff rests on a simple principle: people are not expendable instruments of the mission. In practice, this means taking reasonable, proactive steps to protect the health, safety, security and well-being of those we send into high-risk environments. It is both a legal obligation in most jurisdictions and a moral one grounded in respect for human dignity.

In my own work leading large multicultural teams — sometimes exceeding a thousand people — and coordinating clusters of forty to sixty partners, I have seen what happens when this duty is treated lightly. Staff need clear, specific information about the risks they will face: security threats, disease outbreaks, legal and cultural constraints, environmental hazards. They must understand those risks and be free to accept or decline them. Informed consent is not a formality; it is the starting point of ethical leadership.

Protection must be proportionate. Low-risk deployments may require only solid briefings and reliable communication. High-risk settings demand more: tailored risk assessments, hostile-environment training, secure transport and accommodation, continuous monitoring, and credible crisis plans for kidnapping, active conflict or mass disease. The responsibility does not end at the project site. It covers travel, accommodation, downtime and transit — twenty-four hours a day.

Equity matters. Risk looks different for different people. Assessments must account for medical conditions, gender, pregnancy, nationality and other vulnerabilities rather than applying uniform rules that leave some more exposed than others. And when incidents occur, organisations must respond with competence and speed — medical care, evacuation, and psychological support — rather than improvisation.

Very few organisations offer dedicated Mental Health and Psychosocial Support (MHPSS) to staff and beneficiaries. This is a specialised service, and I have learned that it plays a very important role in wellbeing. Without it, the cumulative weight of repeated exposure to crisis — compassion fatigue, moral injury, and the quiet attrition of idealism — remains unaddressed. Supporting mental health is not a soft addition; it is a core part of keeping people able to continue the work with integrity.

I have lived the cost of ignoring limits. In Haiti, after 150 consecutive days without a break during the earthquake recovery and cholera response, the physical and mental exhaustion became undeniable. Speaking up and returning home was not a sign of weakness; it was recognition that pushing past human limits damages health, work quality and the relationships waiting at home. That lesson has stayed with me through every subsequent surge deployment.

Ethical Duty to Beneficiaries

The ethical duty to beneficiaries is the core purpose of humanitarian action. It is expressed through the principles of humanity, impartiality, neutrality and independence, and through the operational imperative to do no harm.

This duty requires us to deliver assistance that is relevant, timely, effective and accountable. It means avoiding actions that increase vulnerability, create dependency or exacerbate conflict. It means respecting the dignity and agency of affected populations and ensuring programmes reach those most in need without favouritism. Transparency and genuine feedback mechanisms are not optional; they are how communities hold us to account.

In every context I have worked — from drought and cholera responses in Ethiopia to water access under extreme constraints in Gaza and the West Bank — the measure of success has never been the volume of resources mobilised or the number of partners coordinated. It has been whether the most vulnerable received services that actually improved their lives without creating new risks.

How the Two Duties Interconnect

Protecting staff is not a competing priority that diverts resources from beneficiaries. It is a precondition for serving them well.

Well-supported staff stay longer, make better decisions under pressure, maintain programme continuity during shocks, and build more trusting relationships with communities. When staff are inadequately protected, programmes fracture through injuries, evacuations, resignations and burnout. Continuity of care collapses precisely when communities need it most. Organisations that treat staff instrumentally often develop cultures that treat beneficiaries the same way. Conversely, cultures that take staff dignity seriously tend to extend the same respect outward.

I have seen this repeatedly while coordinating multi-partner responses under severe resource constraints. Decisions about which communities receive limited water trucking or sanitation support while knowing others will go without carry moral weight. Those decisions are harder — and more ethically hazardous — when the people making and implementing them are themselves exhausted, unsupported or operating without adequate safety nets. Moral injury arises not only from the scarcity itself, but from working inside systems that promise change while still concentrating power and risk unevenly.

Thus the ethical calculus is not “staff versus beneficiaries.” It is “staff *so that* beneficiaries.” An organisation that systematically under-protects its people cannot claim to be fulfilling its duty to those it aims to assist. At the same time, an organisation that prioritises staff comfort to the point of abandoning people in need fails its primary humanitarian purpose.

Putting the Dual Duties into Practice

From years of cluster coordination and leadership, a practical pattern has emerged.

Pre-deployment

Conduct destination-specific risk assessments that go beyond generic advisories, drawing on local intelligence and analysis of health, security, legal, cultural and environmental factors. Select partners, transport and accommodation with security as a primary criterion. Deliver training calibrated to the actual risk level. Document informed consent. Invest in the capacity of local partners and national staff — localisation is not only about funding flows; it is also about ensuring the people closest to the response are prepared and protected.

During deployment

Maintain continuous two-way communication. Real-time risk alerts, reliable medical and security support, and the ability to locate staff allow rapid instruction when threats change. In the UN system, an app provides live updates of the operational area with clear messages based on facts and advisory. This has proven effective in minimising rumours and misinterpretation. In some INGOs I have seen staff briefed regularly through multiple channels, with operational decisions explicitly weighed against staff and beneficiary safety. Monitoring is not surveillance; it is the only reliable way to know who is in the immediate vicinity of an emerging incident. In remote or conflict settings, where mobile networks fail, this capacity becomes decisive.

Crisis response

Pre-agreed plans, clear chains of command, and integrated medical–security arrangements prevent the chaos that multiplies harm. Knowing exact locations, having trusted local providers, and maintaining open lines with families and authorities enable orderly support rather than high-risk improvisation. A single accountable coordination mechanism reduces the gaps that appear when multiple actors operate in silos. Where available, Mental Health and Psychosocial Support should be part of the response package for both staff and affected communities.

A Coherent Ethical Posture

Duty of care begins the moment a deployment is planned and continues until the staff member returns safely home. When organisations design systems in which duty to staff and duty to beneficiaries are pursued together — through rigorous yet proportionate risk management, transparent communication with both groups, investment in staff competence and well-being as a programme quality measure, and genuine accountability — the result is safer staff, more continuous and effective aid, and a coherent ethical stance that strengthens the legitimacy of the work itself.

I have spent a working lifetime moving between the urgency of crises and the quieter demands of home. The philosophical grounding of nishkama karma — acting fully without clinging to outcomes — has helped me keep showing up without being destroyed by what cannot be controlled. Yet no philosophy removes the practical obligation: if we ask people to carry the weight of this work, we must protect them while they do so.

Protecting those who deliver assistance is not an optional extra. It is how we honour both the people who serve and the people they serve.