International Rescue Committee (IRC) President and CEO, David Miliband, addressed students and faculty at MIT's Schwarzman College of Computing:

It is a real pleasure to be here at MIT.

This is a place that has shaped not only ideas, but the application of ideas to the world’s hardest problems. It is also a place of personal significance for me, having had the privilege of studying here and receiving my master’s degree in political science.

Last week I was in Syria and Lebanon.

Two countries that, in different ways, reflect the pressures shaping our world today.

In both places, you see a familiar pattern. Political failure that weakens institutions and erodes trust. External military interference that prolongs conflict rather than resolves it. Economies that shrink while needs expand. Families forced from their homes, not as a last resort, but as a way of life.

Lebanon is now one of the most urgent humanitarian crises in the world. In a matter of weeks, over one million people have been displaced. That is roughly one fifth of the country’s population. Proportionally, that is everyone west of Texas displaced into central and the eastern United States. 

In Syria, after more than a decade of conflict, the crisis has not ended. It has settled into a grinding, protracted reality. What should have been a period of recovery now risks reversal.

These are not isolated cases. They are typical of the places where the International Rescue Committee works. 

We are living through a period of unprecedented disorder. Not simply instability, but a deeper fragmentation of the systems that once managed risk and mediated conflict.

The numbers tell part of the story.

Around 240 million people are in humanitarian need. More than 120 million people have been displaced by conflict. Roughly 170 million people are facing acute hunger, at IPC Phase 3 or above. 340 million people are experiencing food insecurity. Around 800 million people are living on less than three dollars a day.

Each of these figures is staggering on its own. Taken together, they describe a world in which crisis is no longer the exception. It is becoming the norm.

The most important change is not just the scale of need. It is its location.

The geography of poverty is shifting decisively towards conflict-affected states. In 1990, around 10 percent of the world’s poorest people lived in fragile and conflict settings. By 2030, that figure is expected to reach two thirds.

This is a profound transformation. Poverty is no longer primarily a development challenge. It is increasingly a challenge of conflict, governance, and insecurity.

The IRC’s Emergency Watchlist makes this shift clear.

Twenty countries. Just 12 percent of the world’s population. They account for nearly 90 percent of global humanitarian need. Around 80 percent of people displaced by conflict. A disproportionate share of those living in extreme poverty.

Climate vulnerability deepens the pressure. Fifteen of these twenty countries on the Watchlist are among the most vulnerable to climate change.

Conflict drives poverty. Climate stress intensifies it. Weak institutions are unable to absorb the shock.

A question follows naturally.

How is it that, at a time of unprecedented global wealth, we are also seeing unprecedented levels of human need?

There are four forces at work.

First, the rise of global risks.

From pandemics to climate change, threats are increasingly transnational. Systems for managing them remain national and fragmented.

Second, the fragmentation of global politics.

Stable alliances have given way to shifting partnerships and short-term deals. Cooperation is harder to sustain. Collective action is weaker.

Third, the growth of impunity.

Violations of international humanitarian law are no longer exceptional. Civilians are targeted. Aid is obstructed. Accountability is rare.

Fourth, the entrenchment of war economies.

Conflict is no longer simply destructive. For some actors, it is profitable. Resources are extracted. Smuggling networks expand. Violence becomes a business model.

These forces reinforce one another. Instability deepens. Crises last longer. The gap between need and response widens.

Against this backdrop, the recent escalation involving Iran could not have come at a worse time for the world’s poorest people.

It represents what we might call a triple emergency.

First, a surge in humanitarian need. Lebanon is now one of the most visible humanitarian scars in the world. Families who have lost not just shelter, but stability. Children out of school. Parents without income. Communities stretched beyond breaking point. Humanitarian agencies are being asked to do more, faster, with fewer resources. At IRC, we are using our own funds to deliver cash to families in need fast. 

Second, a global economic shock. The effects of conflict are no longer contained within borders. They move through markets. Disruptions to food, fuel, and fertilizer supply chains are putting up to 30 percent of global fertilizer trade at risk. The consequences are stark. More than 340 million people are already facing acute food insecurity. And now, the systems that sustain food production itself are under strain.

This is what has been described as a food security time-bomb. You can already see it in Gaza, where flour prices have risen dramatically, and families face the very real prospect of famine. You see it in fragile countries from Somalia to Yemen, where shocks like those during COVID and the war in Ukraine pushed millions to the brink.

This is not a temporary disruption. It is a multiplier of vulnerability.

Third, a system under strain.

More than 60 active conflicts are stretching diplomatic attention and financial resources to breaking point. The result is not just underfunding. It is mis-prioritization. Crises compete with one another. Some rise to the top of the agenda. Others are pushed down.

Sudan. Gaza. Myanmar. Afghanistan.

The forces driving disorder are real. But they are not uncontrollable. This is not a question of capacity. It is a question of choice. 

Billions can be spent on war in a matter of days. A fraction of that would be enough to treat every acutely malnourished child in the world.

The failure is not of resources. It is a failure of alignment between the problems we face and the way we are addressing them. Here is how: 

First, we need greater focus.

In a world where need is concentrated, response must be concentrated too. That means prioritizing the places where the stakes are highest and the risks are greatest. Not spreading resources thinly, but directing them where they can have the greatest impact.

Second, we need a relentless focus on results.

In an era of constrained resources, every dollar must count. That means investing in what works. Measuring outcomes, not just inputs. And holding ourselves accountable for the difference we make in people’s lives.

Third, we need to embrace innovation.

The tools available to us today are more powerful than ever. Predictive analytics can help us anticipate crises before they escalate. Digital systems can improve coordination in fragmented environments. New delivery models can extend reach into areas that were previously inaccessible. These are not luxuries. They are necessities in a world of rising need and shrinking resources.

And fourth, we need political leadership.

Because ultimately, humanitarian action cannot substitute for political solutions. Conflicts must be resolved. International law must be upheld. And cooperation must be rebuilt. Without that, we will remain trapped in a cycle of response without resolution.

The stakes could not be higher. What we are seeing today is not just a humanitarian crisis. It is a test of whether the international system can adapt to a new era of risk. A test of whether we can match our capabilities to our challenges.

The people I met last week in Syria and Lebanon do not have the luxury of asking whether the system will adapt. They are already living with its consequences.

The question is whether we are willing to match their reality with our response. And whether we will be judged, in the years ahead, as having met this moment—or missed it.