Accountability beyond buzzwords

Liana Ghukasyan argues that accountability is not a slogan to be repeated in strategies and communiqués.

“Accountability” is one of those words we hear so often in the humanitarian sector that it risks becoming hollow. Every reform process, every strategic framework, every set of commitments includes it. But what does it really mean? Who are we accountable to, and how do we make it real?

The idea of accountability in humanitarian action gained traction in the 1990s, after devastating failures in Rwanda and elsewhere. When the international community failed to prevent or stop the genocide, when aid operations were slow, fragmented, or manipulated, it became clear that we had to do better. The early reforms focused heavily on performance standards, transparency, and financial stewardship - in other words, accountability to donors.

That form of accountability remains essential. Donors - whether governments, institutions, or individual citizens - have every right to expect transparency about how their contributions are used. The credibility of the humanitarian sector depends on it. Yet, focusing only on financial accountability has at times created blind spots. The 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, for example, saw billions of dollars flow into the aid system. But the sheer scale of funding outpaced local absorption capacity. Months later, money sat unused in bank accounts while communities remained in tents. Donors saw transparency reports; affected people saw broken promises.

Accountability to the People We Help

Accountability cannot stop at balance sheets. For the communities living through disasters, displacement, hunger, or war, it is about whether their dignity is respected, whether we listen, whether our aid meets their real needs. It is about inclusion, not as an afterthought, but as a foundation.

Too often, accountability to affected communities is treated as a box-ticking exercise. Surveys are run, complaint boxes are installed, consultations are organized, but decisions are still made far away, in headquarters or capital cities. After the 2010 Haiti earthquake, for example, international agencies rushed in with supplies and strategies, but local voices were sidelined. Humanitarian organizations had built camps without considering Haitian social structures, languages, or culture. Communities complained that they were treated as passive recipients, not partners. This was not just inefficient - it was disempowering.

True accountability requires a shift in power. It demands humility: recognizing that communities know what they need, and that our responsibility is not only to deliver aid but to respect, consult, and sometimes step back.

Accountability for What We Did Not Do

Then there is the hardest form of accountability: accountability for what we failed to do. For the lives not saved because access was blocked and we did not raise our voice loudly enough. For the risks we saw but did not mitigate. For the structural inequalities we sometimes reinforce.

The famine in Somalia in 2011 is a sobering example. Warnings of deteriorating food security came months in advance, yet the international system was slow to act. Bureaucracy, political hesitations, and counterterrorism restrictions delayed the response until famine was declared - by then, hundreds of thousands had died. In hindsight, the humanitarian sector admitted failure. But those admissions did not bring back lives lost to hesitation and caution.

We see the same pattern in Syria, Yemen, Gaza, and countless other crises: aid trapped at borders, access denied, negotiations do not progress. Accountability here is not about reports; it is about asking ourselves: What more could we have done? And what did we not do because of politics, fear, or self-preservation?

Accountability to Conscience

Finally, there is accountability to conscience - our own and our organizational conscience.

Accountability is often described in two dimensions: outcome accountability (the results of what we did) and process accountability (how we did it). Together, they form professional accountability. But there is a deeper layer - we are accountable to ourselves, to our integrity, to the values we claim to uphold.

This is the accountability that no donor report or external audit can measure. It is the late-night question: Did I act according to my principles? Did we as an organization stay true to our mission? Did I choose silence where I should have spoken, or compromise where I should have stood firm?

When sexual exploitation and abuse by aid workers in West Africa came to light in the early 2000s, the scandal was not only about the crimes committed. It was also about the silence of institutions that chose reputation over justice. The same was true years later when misconduct in Haiti again shook the sector. In both cases, the ultimate accountability gap was not financial or operational - it was moral.

Beyond a Buzzword

Accountability is not a slogan to be repeated in strategies and communiqués. It is a practice that must cut across all levels of humanitarian action: accountability to donors, to affected communities, to those we failed, and to our own conscience.

If we forget any of these dimensions, we risk becoming purely technical actors - delivering aid but losing our humanity in the process. Accountability is what binds our work not just to systems, but to our principles and values. Because in the end, accountability is not just about what we deliver. It is about who we are.

Liana Ghukasyan is Special Advisor to IFRC President, former Deputy Permanent Observer to the UN in New York.

Photo by Margarita Trofimova