‘Children don’t need a perfect world, but a fair one’
Muscat – At a time when global compassion appears to be retreating and the rules meant to protect children in conflict zones are increasingly ignored, Unicef’s Senior Emergency Spokesperson James Elder has emerged as one of the most recognisable voices from the front lines. His work has taken him from the civil war zones of Angola to the devastated landscapes of Gaza, Sudan and Afghanistan. Elder, who began his career as a journalist in Australia, has spent years witnessing the consequences of crises that much of the world chooses to look away from.
Elder was in Muscat last week for Unicef’s Network Meeting for Communications and Advocacy. In this interview with Muscat Daily, he speaks about the global collapse in aid, the erosion of humanitarian rules and the emotional toll of witnessing children suffer in conflict zones.
You have worked in some of the most challenging regions. What do you think the world is refusing to face?
We are seeing huge aid cuts from governments and corporates over the last few months. When powerful states treat rules as optional and compassion as optional, we see a collapse not just of systems, but of empathy. Grave violations against children are putting international humanitarian law under historic stress. These two trends—slashing aid and disregarding the rules of war—are two sides of the same moral retreat.
Are these aid cuts happening in specific regions, or everywhere?
Unfortunately, everywhere. Sub-Saharan Africa, the Sahel, the Middle East, South Asia—no region is spared. We are in what I would call an existential crisis of aid. Think of the financial crisis of 2008–09: banks were bailed out. Right now, no one is bailing out children.
Do you engage governments to push for restoring aid?
Absolutely. Unicef’s mandate covers every part of a child’s life—nutrition, protection, education, water and sanitation—and we are entirely donor-funded. We are constantly engaging with governments and wealthy individuals. But the scale of aid cuts this year is the biggest we have ever seen. Children and partners on the ground simply do not understand why the rug is being pulled out from under them.
How does Unicef communicate a crisis in one region to people far away who may not feel connected?
With major crises, we often speak directly to key donors—the EU, the US, Gulf states—because that is where resources lie. But our strength is that we are on the ground. We translate enormous numbers—like five million displaced children in Sudan—into individual human stories. We also work with public figures, ambassadors and influencers who can amplify those stories to audiences we would otherwise never reach.
How do you work with celebrities and goodwill ambassadors?
It is a two-way process. Sometimes their teams approach us; sometimes we reach out. But it has to be the right fit—people genuinely committed to speaking out bravely for children, travelling to the field and using their platforms responsibly. We also work closely with creatives and filmmakers, because some stories are best told visually.
What does Unicef’s information-gathering network look like? How do you verify data?
We operate a three-layered system. First, our footprint—we are present in nearly 190 countries, working through local partners, health centres, schools, volunteers and community networks. Second, we rely on rigorous data sources: verified assessments, monitoring systems and established humanitarian mechanisms. Third, we pair eyewitness accounts with that verification. We only speak to what we can confirm. We use triangular verification—three independent sources—before making public claims, and we do so with full neutrality.
From your short time in Oman, what have you observed?
A remarkable sense of compassion among Omanis. People I have met—from various nationalities—have commented on it. For Unicef, that compassion can translate into people raising their voices for children, advocating for their rights or choosing to support financially. Nothing we do happens without funding.
How did your journey with Unicef begin?
I learned the value of public service from my parents. After travelling, I realised how fortunate I was to have had education and safety. When my wife and I had a child, we actively looked for a different kind of work. An unexpected opportunity came to work with Unicef in Angola, just after Africa’s longest civil war. It was incredibly difficult—an insecure and challenging environment—but working for a children’s organisation while becoming a parent felt deeply meaningful. My wife was pregnant with our second child at the time, and she supported my work with immense courage.
Have you ever been emotionally overwhelmed? How do you maintain composure?
Yes, many times. Once, in Gaza, I saw a small boy on a bus with his sister. His face was badly burned, and she held him tightly. I could smell burnt flesh—it was horrific. I have no military training. When I witness that kind of pain, I feel restless and angry. But I cannot afford to lose control. There are responsibilities—finding medicines, arranging aid, saving lives. There is no time to sit with sadness.
What is your message to the world?
Children do not need a perfect world—just a fair one. They need protection, from violence and from the impacts of the climate crisis. Unicef knows what it takes to keep them safe, but we need people to stand with us. We need individuals and governments to choose courage over comfort, empathy over indifference. When those with political or corporate power take a stand for children, it shows that integrity still exists—that the rules of humanity still matter, and that every child’s life counts.
