In the lead-up to World Humanitarian Day, we’re paying tribute to the local leaders who are redefining what it means to be a humanitarian. These are individuals who show up day after day for their communities, bringing innovation, energy and compassion to their life-saving work.
At the recent 2025 Humanitarian Leadership Conference, a headline panel discussion featuring conversations with local leaders from complex crises around the world offered an opportunity for solidarity, learning, and rewriting narratives.
Moderated by Adelina Kamal and Emma Beale, the panellists were Salai Za Uk, Executive Director, Chin Human Rights Organisation, Ross Skowronski, Founder and CEO of Mission Kharkiv (Ukraine), Awad Mohammed, Emergency Response Room representative (Sudan), Ahmed Ekzayez, Syria Civil Defence / White Helmets (Syria) and Safaa Elagib Agam Ayoub, Community Development Association (Sudan).
After the conference, we asked the panellists to reflect on the experience, and what they took away from the event.
Salai Za Uk, Executive Director, Chin Human Rights Organisation (CHRO) (Myanmar)
Attending the Humanitarian Leadership Conference was a profoundly important experience—one that reaffirmed a painful truth: when it comes to Myanmar, the people most qualified to guide the humanitarian response are too often the least heard.
The core message I carried into the conference—and one echoed by courageous panellists working on the ground in crisis-hit countries—is simple but urgent: listen to those on the frontlines.
Listen to the people of Myanmar. The international community must stop designing interventions from afar that ignore local voices, strengthen the hands of our oppressors, and undermine the very communities struggling for survival and dignity.
Across Myanmar today, many international humanitarian agencies continue to engage with a military regime that systematically bombs, starves, and terrorises its own people. These partnerships, even if well-intended, are not neutral. They are not harmless. They are enabling. Working through junta-controlled systems means giving the regime legitimacy and control over life-saving resources. It means entrenching a system that targets defiant communities with deadly force, burning villages to the ground and obliterating schools, clinics, and churches with aerial strikes.
Among the most painful betrayals are those committed in the name of compassion. International aid agencies proudly proclaim they are “saving lives.” But too often, their continued presence sustains a dangerous illusion: that somehow things are under control; that humanitarian access is being preserved; that neutrality is being maintained. In reality, aid is frequently co-opted, manipulated, and weaponised by those who have no interest in humanity, only in domination.
Philanthropic organisations and donors have a special duty in this context. Their power lies not just in the resources they provide, but in the values they uphold. It is time to re-evaluate what solidarity truly looks like. Supporting Myanmar’s people does not mean working through the junta. It means standing with emerging grassroots governance structures. It means supporting resistance communities that have built parallel systems to protect and provide for civilians—often with little to no international help. It means recognising that humanitarianism must be grounded in principles that put humanity first—a rights-based approach that challenges injustice, not one that hides behind the illusion of neutrality.
Humanitarianism cannot become a theatre in which suffering is showcased, but never solved. Neutrality is not a license for moral paralysis.
What gave me hope at the conference was the panel that brought together voices from the ground—from some of the world’s most devastated places. Their testimony cut through bureaucracy, buzzwords, and comfortable distance. They spoke of real lives, real pain, and real courage.
Their message was clear: meaningful intervention requires more than logistics and frameworks—it demands political and moral clarity. We must stop working with those who create the crisis and start empowering those who are risking everything to overcome it. Myanmar’s future depends on it. So does the integrity of humanitarian leadership.
Dr. Awad Abdelmonem Awad Mohammed, Emergency Response Room representative (Sudan)
It was a great honour to participate as a panellist in the Humanitarian Leadership Conference held in Doha on April 8, 9.
During my session, I focused on the Emergency Response Rooms (ERR) mechanism in Sudan, emphasising its critical role in responding to the ongoing humanitarian crisis. A key message I shared was that the emergency response rooms in Sudan was initiated by grassroots community. EERs were born from the neighbourhoods themselves and now include over 10,000 volunteers across the country. These community-led initiatives have been providing life-saving services, including food assistance, medical care, and shelter support, often under extremely difficult and dangerous conditions. Most importantly, they operate with impartiality, free from political agendas, serving people based on need alone.
This homegrown response is a powerful example of what genuine localisation looks like in practice. These volunteers and local structures have shown exceptional resilience and commitment, even as formal systems collapsed and international access became limited. Their courage and capacity underscore the importance of channelling support to local actors, who are closest to the crisis and often the most trusted by affected communities. Moreover, EERs best understand real community needs because they are rooted in the community itself.
Another important takeaway from the session was the value of learning from other crisis contexts. We had the opportunity to hear reflections from humanitarian leaders working in Syria, Ukraine, and Myanmar—contexts that, like Sudan, are navigating conflict, displacement, and political complexity. Their experiences provided valuable insights into how communities adapt, how humanitarian space is negotiated, and how innovation can emerge even in the most constrained environments.
The Humanitarian Leadership Conference was a timely reminder that leadership is not confined to institutions or formal roles. In many cases, it begins at the community level—with ordinary people doing extraordinary things to care for their neighbours. As we look ahead, the humanitarian sector must do more to recognise, fund, and protect these frontline responders.
I left the conference with a deeper sense of solidarity, and a renewed commitment to advancing a humanitarian system that is not only more localised, but also more just, inclusive, and responsive to the realities on the ground.
Ahmed Ekzayez, Syria Civil Defence / White Helmets (Syria)
The recent Humanitarian Leadership Conference held in Doha was a valuable opportunity for me to share the perspective of the White Helmets as a local organisation. We discussed how the White Helmets have managed to secure direct funding from donors; built on the trust we have earned from both communities and donor agencies.
A key point we highlighted during the conference was the importance of locally led solutions for more effective and efficient humanitarian interventions. We emphasised that local actors should not just be seen as implementers but should take the lead in designing and delivering programs. This approach ensures that responses are grounded in the real needs and priorities of affected communities.
Additionally, we underscored the importance of the courage to say “no” to donors when proposed programs do not align with local priorities. Humanitarian work should always put the needs of communities first, and this requires genuine collaboration and respect for local knowledge and leadership.
Overall, the conference reinforced the significance of empowering local organisations and adopting community-centred approaches to humanitarian response.
Ross Skowronski, Founder and CEO of Mission Kharkiv (Ukraine)
What does it mean to save a life?
In the current humanitarian system, the answer is often shaped by legacy frameworks. A cancer patient in a refugee camp? Not classified as an emergency. Full-course chemotherapy during a siege? Outside the remit. But emergencies don’t pause for bureaucracy. And people do not suffer in categories.
At Mission Kharkiv, we refused to follow that logic. In 2022, we became the first NGO to deliver complete cancer treatment in an active war zone—not because we sought permission, but because we recognised a need. If such work is seen as peripheral to humanitarian response, then it’s the system that needs redefinition.
At the 2025 Humanitarian Leadership Conference, I joined the panel Leading from the Front: The New Humanitarian Vanguard, with peers from Sudan, Syria, and Myanmar. Despite our different contexts, we spoke of the same barriers: donor inflexibility, symbolic localisation, denied access, and the degradation of International Humanitarian Law. But more importantly, we spoke of what local leadership can—and must—demand from this system.
We need to stop contorting our realities to fit donor agendas. I argued that it is time to treat donors as partners, not gatekeepers. As local actors, we are closest to the needs. That proximity must come with agency. If a project doesn’t fit the donor’s usual template but addresses urgent community needs, we must be bold enough to propose it anyway.
The sector today has capacities it lacked two decades ago. Across the globe, local and international organisations are delivering not only immediate relief but also specialised care, mental health support, and long-term treatment—even in active conflict zones. Yet much of this capability is throttled by outdated systems that narrowly define what “lifesaving” entails.
If the humanitarian reset—as advocated by Tom Fletcher and others—is to mean anything, it must begin here: by expanding our definitions. Lifesaving is not just about pulling people from rubble or delivering clean water. It is about restoring continuity, dignity, and hope amid collapse.
I also want to recognise colleagues in Gaza. I know what it means to deliver under fire—but your endurance defies comparison. Your courage and commitment are shaping not just the future of humanitarianism but its moral centre.
The age of top-down humanitarianism is ending. We are no longer waiting to be recognised. We are here—and we are not asking for permission.
Other links
- Watch the panel discussion on YouTube
- Read the session summary (PDF download)
