Barham Salih wasted no time getting into action. Just a few days after taking office on January 1st, he left the conference rooms of his Geneva headquarters for the dusty refugee camps in Kenya and Chad, showing how he intends to lead an agency that is being tested by crises multiplying faster than the system can respond.
“The responsibility, in every sense of the word, is immense,” he said in a recent interview, his voice slightly marked by the magnitude of the task.
For Mr. Salih, now in his sixties, this role is far from abstract. The new United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees knows displacement not as a statistic, but as a lived experience.
“Behind every statistic, there is a life,” he was quoted as saying. Born in Iraqi Kurdistan in 1960, he himself became a refugee in adolescence, spending years in exile under the regime of Saddam Hussein. He studied in the UK, pursued a political career, and eventually became the eighth President of Iraq in 2018 – a journey that now informs his view on the millions of people still stuck in uncertainty.
“This is not an acceptable situation,” he said emphatically. “It is a violation of the fundamental right to dignity.”
Mr. Salih’s ambitious plan aims to halve the number of people in protracted displacement reliant on humanitarian aid within a decade – a goal that surpasses the capacities and resources of his agency.
“I know, and I fully understand, that this goes far beyond the means and capabilities of UNHCR today,” he acknowledged.
The strategy hinges on a shift long overdue in the humanitarian system – transitioning from emergency aid to economic inclusion. According to him, refugees should be able to work and contribute to the societies hosting them, rather than remain dependent on assistance.
This requires a broad coalition including development banks, private investors, donor governments, and host countries – many of which are themselves under economic pressure. It also calls for a political shift at a time when many wealthier nations are tightening borders instead of expanding opportunities.
One of the lasting paradoxes of the refugee crisis is that it disproportionately burdens countries least equipped to handle it.
“We must help host countries, which are mostly low or middle-income countries,” stressed Mr. Salih.
From Colombia to Uganda, Chad to Bangladesh, these nations host the majority of displaced persons, often with insufficient international support. Their schools, hospitals, and labor markets adjust to accommodate these newcomers, even as their own populations face economic challenges.
The head of UNHCR speaks of these hosting communities with a mix of admiration and urgency, acknowledging their generosity but highlighting its limits. Without sustainable investments and inclusion, the system risks perpetuating a global underclass of displaced individuals kept on the margins rather than integrated.
In Kakuma, one of the world’s largest refugee camps with around 300,000 residents, as in Turkish cities hosting Syrians over a decade after their exodus, Mr. Salih claims to have witnessed resilience that defies despair.
“The resilience story of each refugee I have met is authentic and profound,” he said.
This resilience shapes his message, particularly for the young refugees growing up in uncertainty. He emphasizes the need to work to help them exercise their agency, not just providing protection, but also prospects for the future.
These conditions remain unequal at best for now. Conflicts persist, humanitarian budgets shrink, political consensus wavers, and the number of displaced persons continues to rise, with each number, as Mr. Salih reminds, representing a life interrupted.
After his initial visits, what struck him was not just the magnitude of the crisis, but its persistence.
“Once again,” he said, reflecting on the idea guiding his mission, “being a refugee should be a temporary situation, not a permanent suffering.”
For millions living in camps like Kakuma, this distinction has blurred over time.
