JRS International Director: Humanitarian aid is a necessity not an option

By Francesca Merlo

As conflicts, climate crises, and economic collapse continue to displace millions around the world, 2025 has carried a dangerous shift for the lives of the most vulnerable. Not only are fewer resources being directed toward those forced to flee, but many governments are now actively dismantling structures of support.

“We have entered a period of deliberate starvation of refugees,” says Brother Michael Schöpf, SJ, the International Director of the Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS). Having worked for many years at the heart of the frontlines of forced migration, he describes a global climate where the most vulnerable are no longer just neglected, they are now being excluded by design.

Speaking to Vatican News on the eve of the Jubilee of Migrants, he reflects on what he describes as the erosion of solidarity, the rise of political hostility, and a paralysing numbness among societies, including those that were once at the forefront in the battle for compassion.

However, even in the face of this “deliberate cancellation of care,” Brother Schöpf insists there is still hope, a hope that lies in community. A hope, he says, which is rooted in the Gospel call to welcome the stranger and restore dignity to the displaced.

From solidarity to starvation

According to Brother Schöpf, the world is not witnessing a humanitarian crisis caused solely by natural disaster or scarcity, but one shaped by political choices.

“Budget cuts are immense and do have an immense effect on people,” he explains. Western nations – including both right-wing and those that traditionally have been considered progressive governments – are cutting funds for international support systems, slashing aid budgets, and tightening migration policies. These decisions, he says, reveal not economic necessity but a collapse in moral priority.

“When you compare the development budgets with the defence and security budgets, or the money used to relaunch national economies, it’s clear this is not about lack of resources. It’s a deliberate withdrawal of solidarity.”

Kakuma

One of the main examples of this is Kakuma, one of the largest and oldest refugee camps in northern Kenya.

JRS has worked in Kakuma for years, providing education and pastoral support to thousands of people. But recent policy shifts have proposed “localising” refugee secondary education – a move that would eliminate 14,000 educational placements in the camp, replacing them with just a few hundred slots in distant local schools.

“In practice,” Brother Schöpf says, “this means cancelling secondary education for refugee youth.” The alternative – installing new boarding facilities in remote locations – is not only impractical, but currently unfeasible.

But this starvation extends beyond the classroom – because “this, too, is a form of starvation”. Over the past year, food aid has been slashed so dramatically that many refugees are now surviving on the equivalent of just $0.20 a day. “That means no meal – or maybe one basic meal a day,” he says. “In a dry environment where you simply cannot grow anything, this is literal starvation.”

The social consequences are devastating. Families are breaking down. Children are left alone in huts while parents search for food or take on crushing debt in exchange for promised future rations.

“This is the result of policies enacted by Western countries. These are the consequences we live.”

Hostility and Numbness

Brother Schöpf goes on to describe two dynamics he believes to be shaping the current global response to refugees: hostility and numbness.

On the one hand, there is growing hostility, especially from populist leaders and governments who scapegoat migrants and asylum seekers. Even terms like “migrant” and “refugee” have been politically weaponised. “They simply describe a person who has been forced to leave home,” he says. “But now they’ve been manipulated and made part of an agenda that strips people of their dignity.”

On the other hand, there is a growing sense of helplessness – even among those who care. “There are well-meaning people, also in positions of power, who feel completely overwhelmed,” he says. “They’re not hostile – but they’re numb.”

Brother Schöpf explains that many decision-makers have become trapped in their own national crises, unable to see the bigger picture or imagine moral responses that go beyond survival.

Not the problem but the solution

In response to the narratives that envisage refugees as being a burden, Brother Schöpf offers a contrasting reality: “Refugees are not part of the problem. They are part of the solution.”

In other words, inclusion of forcibly displaced people is not just a matter of justice – it is also a practical necessity. “Ignoring them,” he continues, “means we’re heading into a dead end, either a hostile one, or a numb one.”

Community

The only clear way forward, according to Brother Schöpf, is community. “In the face of hostility and numbness, what saves us is community,” he says. “Solidarity lived out at the local level is what restores dignity, hope, and even policy.”

A successful example of this comes from France, where families welcome refugees into their homes for a three-month stay. “This creates something more than shelter,” he explains. “It creates a bond, a sense of belonging. It says: You matter.”

This is the Church’s vision too. As Pope Francis and now Pope Leo, too, consistently remind us: we are called to build a culture of encounter. And it is precisely within these small but powerful acts of hospitality that we rediscover our shared humanity.

A call for justice

“If I don’t recognise the other independently from my own advantage, there is not going to be peace,” he warns. This is not simply about international treaties or economic fairness. It is about who we are becoming as a global society. He invites us all to ask ourselves: “Do you want to be the person who looks away? Who gives up because the problem seems too hard? Or do you want to be the person who believes we can solve this together – through shared humanity?”

Humanitarian aid, he reminds us, is not a luxury. It is not optional. “It is not optional to let people die.”

Hope is a shared journey

Even amid immense suffering, Brother Schöpf sees signs of resilience and hope – especially in the refugees themselves.

“Our task at JRS,” he says, “is not to pretend we have all the answers. It is to stay present. To live in solidarity. To recognise one another as brothers and sisters.”

In this shared struggle, in the relationships forged under pressure, lies the seed of something transformative. “It’s participating in the hope that we can discover together,” he says. “A hope that points us not just to a solution, but to the fullness of life that God has promised everyone.”

Brother Michael Schöpf   (Christian Ender)