My Global Cultures MA dissertation: the exclusion of disabled people from humanitarian aid

In my dissertation, I explored the gap between humanitarian disability inclusion frameworks and how they’re actually implemented in the field. Even though international organisations often acknowledge the importance of including persons with disabilities in humanitarian responses, many are still excluded from receiving the assistance they need. I wanted to understand why this disconnect exists – why exclusion continues, even when the need for inclusion is recognised on paper.

The discovery of my bias: (in)visible disability

Between 2021 and 2022, I worked for a humanitarian non-government organisation (NGO), which operates in several West African countries. Humanitarian NGOs often specialise in a specific type of aid and collaborate to deliver holistic support to crisis-affected populations. The NGO I worked with focuses on shelter, which encompasses everything from emergency housing to long-term living solutions.

During my time at this NGO, I learned that interventions are grounded in research and analysis of secondary sources, while heavily relying on data, such as field surveys and feedback mechanisms, to ensure that aid is effective and does not harm already fragile communities. While working on a report, I encountered a questionnaire assessing beneficiary satisfaction with emergency tents. One question stood out: “Are there persons with disabilities and/or chronic illnesses in your household?” Although I had seen the shelters on the field when I was in the Sahel, I hadn’t previously considered accessibility for persons with disabilities. Yet, as I read the question, it struck me as essential. I realised that my understanding of disability was shaped by Eurocentric ideas – especially the assumption that disability is visible. This led to an unconscious bias on my part.

I noticed a broader issue in the humanitarian sector – the ongoing gap between what organisations say they will do in terms of inclusion, and what actually happens in practice. Yes, people with disabilities were among those affected by humanitarian crises. They were mentioned in reports, policies, and frameworks, and identified as a vulnerable group to be prioritised in humanitarian response. But how did we, as a humanitarian community, actually interact with them on the ground? How did they access services? And were those services truly accessible and meaningful to them?

These questions stayed with me during my time studying for the Global Cultures MA at King’s. The Diversity and Inclusion in Practice module was particularly valuable in deepening my thinking on the topic. I came across Sara Ahmed’s The Language of Diversity (2012), which opened my eyes to how inclusion can be performative – as Ahmed explained through examples of universities marketing themselves as ‘inclusive’, while doing little to improve the real conditions for minorities. Taylor Sunny’s The Right Not to Work: Power and Disability (2004) challenged the capitalist values imposed on bodies, and how disabled bodies are devalued – offering insights from her perspective as a disabled woman.

What stood out to me in the literature I explored in this MA was that although institutions often recognised people with disabilities – especially through diversity, equity, and inclusion policies – this recognition rarely led to their actual inclusion within the institution itself. The appearance of inclusion was controlled through a performative narrative, but lived experiences remained largely invisible. In the Creative Leadership for Global Challenges module we explored a related movement: the “Nothing about us, without us” campaign led by disability activists.

The building blocks

The Advanced Research Skills module was essential – not only for structuring my research, but also for helping me settle on a clear topic and research question. The guidance from the module leaders was key, especially one piece of advice that really stuck: choose a topic you're genuinely passionate about. It might sound trivial, but it's honestly the most important advice I could pass on to anyone. You’ll spend countless hours dissecting sources, skimming, thinking, and note-taking. It could be a tedious process – but if it’s on a topic that truly matters to you, it becomes intellectually nourishing and even exciting.

I knew from the start that I wanted to explore the inclusion of people with disabilities as recipients of humanitarian aid, but I wasn’t sure which angle to take. Conversations with peers and module leaders helped clarify the possibilities. Since this was my MA dissertation, there were limitations – traveling to a humanitarian field site and conducting a thick description (a method we learned about in Creating Knowledge in a Fragmented World) wasn’t realistic. I briefly considered doing semi-structured interviews with humanitarian workers but soon realised their perspectives weren’t the ones I was most interested in. Interviewing aid recipients with disabilities would have been of great interest, but anonymity requirements, language barriers, and logistical constraints made that option unfeasible. Beyond that, I didn’t feel experienced enough to carry out such research responsibly at this stage.

Through extensive reading and note-taking for my literary review, I was able to narrow down my focus. I learned that:

• During humanitarian crises, people with disabilities are often overlooked when it comes to receiving aid, especially compared to those without disabilities. Many authors report that this group is struggling to access essentials like food and shelter. This lack of support is particularly concerning because people with disabilities are at greater risk of experiencing various forms of violence, including physical, psychological, and sexual abuse during and after crises.
• Despite growing awareness and the creation of international frameworks aimed at promoting inclusion, these efforts haven't translated into meaningful change on the ground. Academics and humanitarian actors have pointed out that global policies often fall short in practice, and people with disabilities continue to face barriers in accessing aid.
• A major issue is the lack of consultation with people with disabilities and their representative organisations. Even though these groups have consistently called for more involvement to help improve accessibility, many international organisations still fail to engage with them directly.

With the help of my tutor, Dr Pavan Mano, I pinned down my final research question. I chose to focus on the Sahel region – partly because I already had a strong understanding of its geopolitical and cultural context, and partly because focusing on a specific location allowed me to dig deeper. I wanted to know why humanitarian aid in the Sahel remained largely inaccessible to those with disabilities.

Approach

My dissertation would explore the gap between people with disabilities struggling to access humanitarian aid, despite NGOs’ institutional documents (e.g. policies, frameworks) stipulating disability inclusion in the field. Many NGOs publish such frameworks on their websites, and some occasionally post evaluation reports of humanitarian projects. I settled on comparing the disability inclusion framework of an international NGO and a final evaluation report of its intervention in Burkina Faso. This allowed me to apply a geopolitical and cultural lens to the analysis – essential, given humanitarianism’s historical links to colonialism and religion. I chose these institutional documents as a site of study because, when compared, they reveal the extent to which humanitarian field actors are able, or unable, to implement their organisation’s objectives. Although written from the humanitarian perspective, these documents are shared with financial backers and auditors, which gives them a reasonable degree of trustworthiness.

Analysis

In analysing the gap between a disability inclusion framework and the final evaluation of a multi-year health programme in the Sahel region, I found that many of the framework’s stipulations – such as disaggregated data collection, barrier assessments, and community engagement – were not meaningfully reflected in practice. Although persons with disabilities were formally acknowledged in the evaluation, there was no evidence that this recognition shaped the programme’s design, delivery, or monitoring mechanisms.

Mentions of disability were limited to general references – phrases like “special needs” or “mobility difficulties” appeared without explanation or follow-up. There was no record of how many persons with disabilities were reached, what specific services were adapted to their needs, or what kinds of challenges they might have encountered. Despite the existence of a framework mandating inclusive practice, its core recommendations appeared to have been set aside or deprioritised during implementation.

This disconnect illustrates a broader issue: the persistence of a divide between policy and action, where institutional commitments to inclusion remain largely rhetorical unless mechanisms for accountability are embedded at every level and funds are invested to implement an inclusive humanitarian aid.

Ableism as structural condition

The health programme under review was developed to improve access to medical services in a rural part of the Sahel. Its primary focus was on maternal and child health, with supporting infrastructure and logistical elements designed to facilitate healthcare access. However, while the framework used to guide this intervention promoted a “twin-track approach” – which includes both mainstreaming disability considerations and implementing targeted interventions – there was little indication that either track was actively pursued in relation to persons with disabilities.

This omission is not simply a technical oversight but points to deeper structural conditions. As Fiona Kumari Campbell (2009) argues, ableism is maintained through the naturalisation of able-bodiedness as the standard. In humanitarian practice, this translates into a default imaginary of the able-bodied beneficiary, whose needs are seen as representative of the population at large. When aid is distributed, services are designed around this normative body – meaning that those who do not conform must either adapt or remain excluded.

In this case, accessibility was not designed into the core infrastructure or outreach methods. No consideration appeared to have been given to how persons with visual, cognitive, or physical impairments might access services. Where inclusion was feasible – such as in transport logistics or local communication systems – it was not explicitly addressed. The result is that persons with disabilities remained peripheral to humanitarian programming, despite formal recognition of their vulnerability.

Rhetoric and omission

The presence of disability-related language in programme reports can create the illusion of inclusion. In the case studied, disability was referenced across several sections, including those dedicated to vulnerability and equity. Yet this rhetorical inclusion was not matched by tangible outcomes or clear strategies. There was no mention of outreach to disabled people’s organisations, no reference to consultations with persons with disabilities, and no indication of specific adaptations made to improve accessibility.

This aligns with Ahmed’s (2007) concept of the “language of diversity,” where inclusion is performed discursively, often to satisfy institutional expectations, rather than to effect structural change. The presence of such language may serve as a substitute for substantive inclusion, allowing institutions to present themselves as progressive while maintaining existing hierarchies and exclusions.

The effect is twofold: first, it obscures the reality of exclusion by suggesting that the issue is being addressed; second, it perpetuates a model of humanitarian intervention where visibility does not guarantee access. Persons with disabilities may be seen, even counted, but remain outside the operational scope of the programme.

Cultural context and policy limitations

Another limitation identified through this research concerns the cultural adaptability of inclusion frameworks. Most disability inclusion guidelines are grounded in the social model of disability, developed within Western legal and academic contexts. While this model is effective in challenging medicalised understandings of disability, it does not always translate easily into non-Western humanitarian settings, where local understandings of disability may be shaped by traditional beliefs, religious frameworks, or economic constraints.

In the case reviewed, the programme’s designers made no evident attempt to localise their approach to inclusion. There was no engagement with community actors who hold cultural authority, and no evidence of consultation with organisations representing persons with disabilities. This absence suggests a prescriptive approach to inclusion – one that assumes the universal applicability of policy, rather than treating inclusion as a situated, culturally contingent process.

As Tuakli-Wosornu and Haig (2014) have pointed out, recommendations grounded in Western norms – such as providing assistive devices or building ramps – may not address the core barriers experienced by persons with disabilities in low-resource settings. Inclusion requires not only technical solutions but also a sensitivity to how disability is understood and experienced locally.

Towards structural change

My dissertation’s findings suggest that disability inclusion in humanitarian settings cannot be realised through frameworks alone. Institutional attitudes, operational norms, and funding structures all play a significant role in determining what is prioritised during programme implementation. If the inclusion of persons with disabilities remains optional, it will likely continue to be overlooked.

In practical terms, inclusion requires a commitment to data collection that goes beyond surface-level demographics. It requires engagement with local disability stakeholders, consultation processes that are more than symbolic, and regular evaluation of accessibility – not just in infrastructure, but in communication, transportation, and service delivery. This must be enabled by sufficient funds.

In addition, humanitarian organisations must address the implicit hierarchies that shape field operations. Training of personnel, while necessary, is insufficient without structural accountability. Inclusion must be built into monitoring and evaluation frameworks and reported on explicitly, not assumed or implied through language alone.

People with disabilities are amongst the most vulnerable people in a humanitarian crisis. Their acknowledgement in the institutional discourse cannot be a substitute for their inclusion in the field.

About Anna Fatholahzadeh

After studying arts in Strasbourg and completing an MA in Global Cultures from her home in Luxembourg, Anna Fatholahzadeh made Paris her home, where she lives with her partner. With experience in the humanitarian NGO sector, she is looking to return to the field, bringing fresh perspectives shaped by her studies and personal passions. Recently, she has been drawn to the ideas of Marcel Mauss, particularly his techniques du corps, and is interested in how embodied practices might offer new ways to engage with the world. In her free time, Anna enjoys swimming, traveling with her partner, and disappearing into the strange and compelling worlds of Kafka.

About the Global Cultures MA

The online Master's in Global Cultures will build your interpersonal and cultural skills to help you engage effectively with colleagues, customers, clients, suppliers, and partners in today's interconnected world. Developing the key soft skills to bridge the gaps in the global industry workforce, this course sets you up for success in the modern workplace.