By Kate Forbes, IFRC President
When I decided to run for the position of IFRC President, I never thought that one of my most painful responsibilities in this role would be writing condolence letters. Yet, over the past years, I have written far too many - to our National Societies, to grieving families, to colleagues mourning the loss of their friends and loved ones.
Each letter is written with a heavy heart.
Each letter is a reminder of the immense sacrifice borne by those who choose to serve humanity.
Nothing prepares you for the message that another of our staff or volunteers has been killed while carrying out humanitarian work.
Each time I receive the devastating news of another colleague killed in the line of duty, I am overwhelmed with sorrow and with anger.
Sorrow, because every loss is personal. Behind every statistic is a face, a name, a life dedicated to service. They are fathers and mothers, daughters and sons, friends and neighbours. They are people who believed in compassion, who wore our Red Cross and Red Crescent emblem as a promise of humanity. Their absence leaves an unfillable void in their families, in their communities, and in our Red Cross and Red Crescent network.
Anger, because this should not be happening. Humanitarian workers are not and must never be a target. Yet they continue to be attacked, abducted, and killed. We issue statement after statement, appeal after appeal, reminding governments and parties to conflict of their obligations under international humanitarian law. Still, the violence persists. And still, families are left to grieve in silence while the world moves on too quickly.
We must raise our voices louder, together. We must demand accountability where there is impunity. We must continue to insist on the protection and respect that humanitarian law guarantees.
We must raise our voices louder, together. We must demand accountability where there is impunity. We must continue to insist on the protection and respect that humanitarian law guarantees.
The weight of this reality is difficult to bear. It is the most difficult part of my role as President and yet, it is also the most urgent reminder of why we must persist. To honour those we have lost, we cannot afford to be silent.
Humanitarian workers embody the best of humanity. They enter danger when others flee. They provide medical care under bombardment. They rescue, comfort, and protect with no other agenda than to affirm life and dignity. Their courage is not abstract - it is lived daily in places where compassion is scarce, and fear is abundant.
Their deaths are not just tragedies. They are violations of the laws that exist to protect civilians and those who serve them. Violations of the most basic principles of humanity. Violations of the moral fabric that holds us together as a global community.
To the families who have lost their loved ones in this noble cause: please know that their sacrifice is not forgotten, and it will never be in vain. They remind us of what it means to be humanitarian, of the cost of compassion, and of the urgency of protecting those who protect others
Today and every day, I stand in solidarity with the families of the fallen, with the countless volunteers and staff who continue their work in danger, and with every person who has ever carried the Red Cross and Red Crescent emblem into situations of risk. Their courage humbles me, their sacrifice compels me, and their memory fuels my determination.
We must raise our voices louder, together. We must demand accountability where there is impunity. We must continue to insist on the protection and respect that humanitarian law guarantees. And we must never stop honouring those who, in their final act, showed us the truest meaning of humanity.
Today, I bow my head in grief. But I also lift my voice in resolve: Protect humanity. Protect those who protect others.
Learn more:
Join the call to #ProtectHumanity
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