A former refugee faces the world on the run

He wasted no time getting out on the field. Within days of taking office on January 1, he had left the conference room at his headquarters in Geneva for refugee camps in Kenya and Chad, a signal of his intent to lead an agency beset by crises that are multiplying faster than the systems built to respond to them.

“The responsibility of everything is incredible,” he said in a recent interview, his voice barely capturing the enormity of the task.

For Pak Salih, who is in his mid-sixties, the role is not something abstract. The new High Commissioner for Refugees understands displacement not as a statistic but as a lived experience.

‘Behind every statistic there is life’

Born in Iraqi Kurdistan in 1960, he became a refugee as a teenager and spent years in exile, part of a generation shaped by oppression and war under Saddam Hussein’s rule. He studied in England, built a political career and eventually returned to his country, and became Iraq’s eighth president in 2018, an image that now shows how he saw millions of people still trapped in uncertainty.

“Behind every statistic there is a life,” he said, “a person who has aspirations, a right to dignity, and a right to a better future.”

The insistence on individual dignity, as a refrain, persisted throughout his first months on the job. But there is a harder reality: the global system built to respond to displacement is under pressure. Even as the number of refugees rises, humanitarian funding tightens, forcing agencies like his to use already limited resources to meet growing needs.

A crisis that no longer ends

For decades, the refugee protection framework has relied on the assumption that displacement is only temporary. People fled, found refuge and eventually returned home when it was safe.

“Being a refugee is not a destiny,” said Salih. “This is intended to be a temporary condition.”

However, as the conflict dragged on and a political settlement stalled, this premise slowly collapsed. Currently, nearly two-thirds of refugees live in conditions that humanitarian agencies call “prolonged displacement”: five, 10, even 20 years or more without a long-term solution. The whole childhood unfolds in the camp. Generations have grown up without ever seeing the homes their families left behind.

The UN Refugee Chief did not soften the diagnosis.

“That’s not an acceptable situation,” he said. “This is a violation of the human right to dignity.”

Ambitious plans

The plan is ambitious. He has set a goal of halving, within a decade, the number of long-term displaced people who depend on humanitarian aid, a target that far exceeds the capabilities or resources of his agency alone.

“I know, and I fully understand, that this is far beyond my means and abilities [UNHCR] today,” he admitted.

This strategy relies on something the humanitarian system has long struggled with: moving beyond emergency aid towards economic inclusion. Refugees, according to him, should be able to work and contribute to the communities that host them rather than remaining dependent on aid.

This requires a broad coalition, including development banks, private investors, donor governments and host countries, many of which are under economic pressure. It also requires a change in political will at a time when many rich countries are tightening borders rather than expanding opportunities.

The weight of hosting

One of the enduring paradoxes of the refugee crisis is that it is borne largely by countries least able to handle it.

“We need to help host countries, most of which are low- and middle-income countries,” said Salih.

From Colombia to Uganda, from Chad to Bangladesh, these countries host the vast majority of refugees, often without adequate international support. Schools, hospitals, and labor markets strive to accommodate new arrivals even as their own citizens face economic hardship.

The UN Refugee Chief spoke of the communities hosting them with awe and urgency.

“I am humbled by the generosity of many host countries and communities,” he said.

However, generosity can only go so far. Without continued investment and inclusion, the system risks becoming a permanent crisis, where neglected lower-class groups will be placed in warehouses rather than welcomed.

A message to refugees and the world

In Kakuma, a refugee camp in northern Kenya, one of the world’s largest and home to some 300,000 people, and in Turkish towns hosting Syrians more than a decade after their exodus, Salih said he has seen something beyond words of despair.

“The stories of resilience of every refugee I met were genuine and real,” he said.

It is this resilience that shapes her message, especially to young refugees growing up in uncertainty.

“To young people, I say we will work to help you in your institutions,” he said, emphasizing not only protection but also possibility.

The word “agency” is intentional. This signals a shift from seeing refugees solely as victims, towards recognizing them as actors in their own future. However, it also places responsibility on the international community to create the conditions in which such institutions can be implemented.

“Refugees are meant to be a temporary situation, not permanent suffering.”

Currently, this condition is still not evenly distributed.

Conflicts continue to erupt, including the latest escalation in the Middle East. Humanitarian budgets are shrinking. The political consensus is starting to weaken and the number of refugees continues to increase, each of these figures represents, as emphasized by Mr. Salih, disrupted life.

At the end of his initial journey, what he remembered was not only the scale of the crisis, but also his tenacity.

“Again,” he said, returning to the idea underlying his mission, “refugees are meant to be a temporary situation, not permanent suffering.”

For the millions of people living in camps like Kakuma, those distinctions have blurred.