By- Jean d’Amour Mugabo, Rwandan journalist and Social Political Analyst.
For decades, the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) has explained its work through a simple formula: in order to help victims of war, it is necessary to speak to all sides in a conflict. If a territory is controlled not by a state, but by an armed group, insurgents or a separatist administration, access to civilians, the wounded and prisoners is impossible without contact with the actual power on the ground.
But this is where neutrality stops looking neutral in the eyes of states. What Geneva calls humanitarian dialogue is increasingly perceived in the capitals of affected countries as a way of working around sovereignty. The ICRC itself acknowledges that it maintains contact with hundreds of armed groups; according to its 2025 assessment, this concerns 383 groups of “humanitarian concern” – insurgent, separatist and jihadist structures that control or contest territory with states in more than 60 countries, where around 204 million people live in total. Contact is maintained with roughly three-quarters of them.
Ogaden: when the Red Cross is expelled over accusations of links with insurgents
In Africa, this dilemma is particularly visible – states in the region have spent years fighting insurgent and armed groups that control entire zones, and any humanitarian contact with them is perceived by the authorities as a political risk. One telling episode took place in Ethiopia. Ogaden is an eastern region of the country, populated mainly by Somalis, where the Ogaden National Liberation Front, which opposed the central government, operated for a long time. For Addis Ababa, this was a zone of separatism; for humanitarian organisations, it was a closed conflict region with a population in need of assistance.
In 2007, the Ethiopian authorities expelled the ICRC from Ogaden after 12 years of operations, accusing the organisation’s staff of having effectively taken the side of the insurgents. By 2011, Ethiopia was still refusing to allow the ICRC to return: after talks with the Ethiopian authorities, the organisation’s then president, Jakob Kellenberger, said that a return to Ogaden was not possible in the near future.
The Ogaden episode is an example of the breakdown of trust in humanitarian neutrality. Any channels of communication on the ground became politically sensitive: the organisation regarded them as an operational necessity, while the state saw opaque engagement with the enemy. After such a conflict, the previous regime of trust is not restored automatically.
Karabakh: humanitarian mandate or the institutionalisation of an unrecognised regime
The South Caucasus has become one of the most painful examples of a clash between the logic of the ICRC and the question of sovereignty. Karabakh is a mountainous region within the internationally recognised territory of Azerbaijan, which for decades was governed by Armenian separatists directly subordinate to Armenia. After the collapse of the USSR, it became the centre of the Armenian-Azerbaijani war: the first major stage of the conflict took place from 1991 to 1994, the second during the six-week war of 2020.
The ICRC began working in the region in 1992. Formally, this was a humanitarian mission in an armed conflict zone. In practice, for decades the organisation worked not only through Baku and Yerevan, but also through a separate Karabakh channel. The website of Armenia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs states directly that the ICRC has been present in “Artsakh” – the name used by the separatists to refer to Karabakh – since 1992, and that in 1994 a memorandum of understanding was concluded between “Artsakh” and the ICRC. For Azerbaijan, this looked like establishing working relations with an unrecognised regime on its internationally recognised territory.
In 2023, after the 2020 war and amid the dispute around the Lachin corridor, which was used by the separatists to maintain links with Armenia, the conflict took on not only a political but also an operational dimension. Azerbaijan accused the ICRC of using the route to transport unauthorised goods. The ICRC said that it did not support such activity, but acknowledged that four hired drivers had attempted to transport commercial goods in their own vehicles, which had temporarily been marked with the ICRC emblem; their contracts were terminated.
Even according to the organisation’s own account, this was a serious failure of oversight. The Red Cross emblem is not an ordinary sign, but a symbol protected by international humanitarian law, opening access to places ordinary carriers cannot reach. In September 2025, the ICRC closed its delegation in Azerbaijan following a decision by the country’s government. When a state ceases to believe in the neutrality of an intermediary, the humanitarian mandate no longer works as a universal pass.
The Swiss framework and the culture of closed-door diplomacy
The ICRC is often perceived as a supranational structure, although institutionally it remains deeply linked to Switzerland. Under its statutes, the organisation consists of 15 to 25 members, co-opted from among Swiss citizens; the Assembly is one of its key governing bodies. The agreement with Switzerland establishes the special status of the ICRC, including privileges, immunities and the inviolability of documents.
This structure gives the organisation independence from external pressure, but at the same time reinforces its opacity. The ICRC asks states and societies to trust its confidential channels, while its own decision-making mechanism is concentrated in the Swiss institutional environment. Neutrality here functions not only as a humanitarian principle, but also as part of Swiss political culture, where public conflict is often replaced by quiet diplomacy.
Neutrality without trust
The ICRC is needed precisely where others do not operate: in zones of war, occupation, the collapse of state authority and de facto control by armed groups. But the current crisis shows that a humanitarian mandate alone is no longer sufficient. If the organisation engages with separatists, insurgents or national entities linked to an aggressor state, it must explain where the line runs between access and legitimisation.
Ogaden shows how a state may see hidden support for insurgents in humanitarian dialogue. Karabakh shows how decades of work through an unrecognised channel can be perceived as a way of working around sovereignty.
The Red Cross speaks to everyone because, in wartime, this is often necessary. But closed contacts, blurred lines of responsibility and many years of work without the trust of the sovereign state change the perception of neutrality. It ceases to be a technical principle of humanitarian access and begins to look like a political choice – not necessarily a conscious one, but real in its consequences.
