Wanting to believe

Every year, students in one of my classes research health challenges facing refugees and stateless communities. They work in small teams and have to identify opportunities for innovative solutions that can work keeping in view the realities on the ground. The hardest part is not coming up with ideas, but thinking about who will fund, support and sustain their solutions. Every year (without fail), the students write that they will get funding for their idea from the UN or one of its agencies. For example, this year, one of the teams worked on a project that focused on improving maternal health for stateless Bengalis in Karachi’s Machhar Colony. The students looked up statistics, read papers, did their homework in analysing history of marginalisation of the community. They had a couple of good ideas about improving the health outcomes of pregnant mothers in the community. Yet, despite all this, their hypothetical business model relied on UN supporting it.

Every year I remind them it is unlikely to happen. I explain the ground realities, and the way international agencies operate and the inherent limitations of their operations. Yet, every year, I feel that I am shattering their dream of a world where there will be someone to take care of the most vulnerable. They want to believe in a different world than the one that exists around us.

Years ago, when I was in school in Islamabad, the parents of most of my friends had jobs like my own parents or my aunts and uncles. They were teachers, worked for the government in some form or another, and some had parents who were in the military. There was one exception. The father of a friend of mine worked for the UN. I still remember being in awe of him. His job sounded and looked cool. He traveled the world, was paid and lived well, and seemed to work on important global problems. To me, this was the job to have. For some reason, the adults in my family were less impressed and just did not think the job was all that cool. More importantly, they were skeptical of what the UN could accomplish. There was a long list of disappointments, but to my ears all of their grievances sounded just like noise. As a young boy, I had a very different impression of the UN and its power to get things done.

Years later, I feel differently. I do want to believe in a world where the UN gets hard things done — not sometimes, but every time. I am still inspired by the idea of taking care of every person, of human dignity and wellbeing, and of peace in all parts of the world. But having worked with many colleagues in different agencies of the UN, and with policymakers in various countries, I know how that dream is getting farther and farther. It is not to say that people in international agencies do not do good work. Some of the most inspiring people I have met work in these agencies, and do remarkable work in most difficult circumstances. I am privileged to work with such colleagues, and hope that I will continue to have that opportunity for years to come. But we have to admit that so many vulnerable people are being left behind — many permanently so. Like so many others, I have seen impotence of international governance in not just the UN but other regional and international bodies. I have seen the disconnect between ground realities and policies made in high offices in Europe and the US. I have witnessed egos, bureaucracy and interests of the powerful come in the way of good and urgent work. In my own areas of research — in health and innovation with a focus on refugees — there are too many sad stories to tell.

In one of my lectures towards the end of the course, I remind students why they should seriously temper their expectations. Yet, in a small corner of my heart, I hope that it is I who is wrong — and that these students will create institutions that care, and deliver for everyone.

Published in The Express Tribune, December 20^th, 2022.

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