Probing the humanitarian securitisation approach to great-power wars: from Bush’s ‘war on terror’ to Putin’s invasion of Ukraine

ABSTRACT

How do great-power leaders instrumentalise humanitarianism in sustaining the institutional and public mandate demanded by their war agendas? We examine the ‘humanitarian securitisation’ approach adopted by powerful state leaders as the domestic credibility and popularity of their war efforts become increasingly more difficult to guarantee over time. We define humanitarian securitisation as a discursive-hermeneutic process through which powerful initiator states frame the humanitarian crises arising from the terrorism and internal conflicts confronting less powerful target states as existential threats to the former’s own survival to bolster and justify their agendas further. Using Bush’s ‘war on terror’ and Putin’s Ukraine invasion as empirical cases, we argue that the humanitarian securitisation resulting from the artificial insertion of humanitarianism into the securitisation process becomes a double-edged sword that reinforces the legitimising and mobilising powers required by great-power leaders to pursue their narrow self-interests, but at the risk of being entangled into long drawn-out wars that damage genuine humanitarian efforts. In framing these ‘extraterritorial’ humanitarian crises as collective borderless existential threats that all parties affected must decisively defeat, this ad hoc and predatory process of humanitarian securitisation alters the form and substance of contemporary humanitarianism in a way that ultimately exacerbates existing power hierarchies.

KEYWORDS:

• Humanitarian securitisation
• humanitarianism
• war on terror
• Ukraine invasion
• great-power wars
• Bush
• Putin

1. Introduction

‘Our war on terror begins with al Qaeda, but it does not end there. It will not end until every terrorist group of global reach has been found, stopped and defeated’ (Bush 2001a). These were the exact words uttered by former US President George W. Bush during his address to Congress several days after the 11 September 2001 (hereafter, 9/11) attacks. A few weeks later, the US began its full-scale military invasion of Afghanistan for harbouring al-Qaeda while also targeting Taliban military installations whom Bush (2001b) accused of providing a haven for the terrorist organisation. Since then, the magnitude and scope of the threat as perceived by the Bush administration shifted constantly, thereby expanding the effort’s original mission and objectives. This was evidenced by how the US used the war on terror as a smokescreen for invading Iraq due to its ‘outlaw regime that threatens the peace with weapons of mass murder’ (Bush 2003).But soon, Bush and his ‘coalition of the willing’ realised the impossibility of ‘winning’ these wars in the Middle East within a short period, especially as the appetite for and the presumed efficacy of such large-scale warfare started to diminish significantly rather than intensify over time (Pew 2004, 2007, 2008).

Despite eventually eliminating many of their most wanted targets, notably al-Qaeda’s Osama bin Laden in 2001 and Iraq’s Saddam Hussein in 2006, the threat of attacks on US soil and the rest of the ‘free world’ continues to loom large. Indeed, the promise of Bush’s war on terror remains unfulfilled even after the two US-led wars in Afghanistan and Iraq that killed tens of thousands of civilians and used up trillions of dollars since its inception (Moody 2021). Taliban’s return to power in Afghanistan in 2021 after successfully revolting against the US-backed government in Kabul is one concrete example of the lingering dangers brought about by this unfulfilled promise (Maizland 2023). The Islamic fundamentalist group’s continued close relationship with al-Qaeda threatens to push the country back to its previous role of providing shelter to terrorist groups planning to launch international terrorist attacks from Afghan territory (Abbas 2023). These unresolved problems substantially undermined the credibility and popularity of not only Bush and his war on terror but also of Washington and the US as a whole as indicated by the outcomes of various research surveys (Pew 2004, 2007, 2008).

Twenty-three years later, Russian President Vladimir Putin faces the same dilemma of his own making as the Ukrainian armed forces regained more than half of their sovereign territory illegally seized by the Russian military since the Kremlin’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine commenced on 24 February 2022 (The New York Times 2023). Russia’s ongoing invasion of Ukraine began in early 2014 following Putin's unlawful annexation of Crimea he claimed was necessary for ensuring that the Russian citizens and Russian speakers in Crimea and southeast Ukraine ‘would live in a friendly, democratic and civilised state that would protect their rights in line with the norms of international law’ (Putin 2014). Stunned by the Ukrainian government’s steely resolve not to cede an inch of their sovereign territory any further, Putin launched a full-scale military invasion of Ukraine, ignoring the UN Security Council’s last-ditch effort to dissuade him (Nations 2022b). In response, the UN General Assembly passed a resolution condemning Moscow’s transgressions during an emergency session on March 2 in which 141 of 193 member states demanded that Russia immediately withdraw from Ukraine (Nations 2022a). Neither this condemnation nor the severe sanctions imposed by the US and her allies on Russia, however, dissolved Putin’s resolve to ‘win’ his war.

Nevertheless, Moscow did face some major internal challenges that dented Putin’s image of astrong ‘uncontested’ leader. One of which was the mutiny staged by the Wagner Group, a private military company led by Putin’s close confidant, Yevgeniy Prigozhin on 23 June 2023. Accusing the Russian Ministry of Defense of shelling his Wagner fighters, Prigozhin and his group occupied Rostov-on-Don and seized Russia’s southern military headquarters (Roth 2023). Upon advancing more than halfway to Moscow, Putin declared the armed rebellion a betrayal and offered amnesty for the mercenary soldiers who ceased marching (CBS 2023). With tensions mounting, Putin turned to Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko to broker a truce deal which eventually ended the Wagner saga and led to Prigozhin’s move to Belarus (Simmons 2023).

But only two months after staging a mutiny, Russia’s investigative committee reported that Prigozhin was among the people killed when his business jet crashed north of Moscow on August 23 (Sauer 2023). A declassified US intelligence report released in December of the same year claimed that Putin’s war in Ukraine already cost Russia 315,000 dead and injured troops or close to 90% of the personnel it had when the invasion began, setting back Kremlin’s military modernisation by 18 years (Landay 2023). RAND Corporation also reported that Russia has already incurred substantial gross domestic product (GDP) losses and experienced great financial capital destruction that contributed to the declining living standards among its citizens (Shatz and Reach 2023). Despite the reports from Russia’s heavily controlled media (e.g. Channel One and Rossiya 1) and survey companies (e.g. Center 2024; VCIOM: Russian Public Opinion Research Center 2024), it will not be a stretch to argue that these ongoing troubles have posed serious problems to Putin’s actual credibility and popularity as evidenced by the series of protests staged by various local groups since the Ukraine invasion began (Amnesty International 2023; Human Rights Watch 2022; Jazeera Staff 2024).

How do great-power leaders instrumentalise humanitarianism in sustaining the institutional and public mandate demanded by their war agendas? To answer this question, we examine the operational utility and outcome of the ‘humanitarian securitization’ approach adopted by powerful state leaders such as Bush and Putin as the credibility and popularity of their war agendas became increasingly more difficult to guarantee and sustain over time. We define humanitarian securitisation as a discursive-hermeneutic process through which powerful initiator states frame the humanitarian crises arising from the terrorism and internal conflicts confronting less powerful target states as existential threats to the former’s own survival, thereby bolstering and justifying their war efforts further. The process of humanitarian securitisation is discursive because the existential threat of humanitarian crises becomes ‘represented and recognized’ (Williams 2003, 513) through iterative speech acts, and hermeneutic as it requires a focus on the ‘context, interpretation, and liminality of the meaning’ (Ciutǎ 2009, 302) of humanitarianism by ‘confronting one’s language of explanation with that of one’s subjects’ self-understanding’ (Taylor 1989, 226).

To be clear, the issues that are being securitised by the initiator states (e.g. US and Russia) through this process are the humanitarian crises, particularly those linked to terrorism and internal conflicts implicating the identified target states (e.g. Afghanistan, Iraq, and Ukraine) rather than terrorism and internal conflicts per se. Accordingly, the referent objects of humanitarian securitization are the national interests (broadly defined) of the initiator state which unilaterally moves to deliver securitising speech acts that frame these humanitarian crises (regardless of their actual or imagined presence) as existential threats to not only the target state but also its own, and which could only be effectively defeated by implementing the necessary extraordinary measure of invasive war.

Maintaining this war agenda, however, demands continued institutional and public support which both become increasingly more challenging to sustain as the war begins to protract indefinitely. Faced with the potential loss of credibility and popularity that substantially undermines the institutional and public mandate for their war efforts, our paper demonstrates and probes how the leaders of the initiator states resort to instrumentalising humanitarianism to pursue their strategic objectives at the expense of genuine humanitarian goals. To this extent, we argue that humanitarian securitisation is an ad hoc and predatory process deployed in an attempt to keep the momentum and support for the war agendas set by the initiator states. It is ad hoc because humanitarianism is not the actual primary impetus for the war initially launched but an additive auxiliary justification. It is also predatory in the sense that the initiator state adopts and proceeds with securitisation by hijacking and appropriating humanitarianism to mask and pursue its non-humanitarian interests.

However, over the past several decades, the power of invoking the supposedly universally shared value of humanitarianism for mobilising the required resources to initiate and sustain war as a necessary extraordinary measure has significantly waned (Bin Talal and Schwarz 2013; Hehir 2013; Kersavage 2014; Leenders and Mansour 2018; Pommier 2011; Xypolia 2022). Hence, the credibility and popularity of the initiator state’s war agenda cannot be simply guaranteed by the insertion of humanitarian goals and principles into it. What it needs, as we posit further, is the extra boost that the securitisation approach can potentially provide through the discursive-hermeneutic framing of extraterritorial humanitarian crises (whether real or perceived) as collective borderless existential threats affecting both the target and initiator states. Ultimately, however, we assert that the humanitarian securitisation resulting from the artificial injection of the humanitarian ethos into the securitisation process becomes a two-edged strategy. While it reinforces the initiator state’s legitimising and mobilising powers to pursue its national interests which end up exacerbating the existing power hierarchies, it also puts itself at risk of being trapped in an endless war cycle and undermines genuine humanitarian aims in the process.

These arguments have significant implications for the nature and function of the war agendas pursued by great-power leaders, specifically Bush’s war on terror and Putin’s Ukraine invasion. While initially marketed and sold to their respective audiences as the ultimate solution to terrorism and internal conflicts that were supposedly endangering their respective national interests, their failure to immediately conclude and ‘win’ these wars jeopardised the institutional and public mandate of their war efforts. Accordingly, the rhetoric and scope of Bush’s and Putin’s respective war agendas gradually evolved and shifted with the ad hoc and predatory adoption of humanitarianism as an additive auxiliary raison d’etre. This, in turn, necessitated the reframing of the war on terror and the Ukraine invasion as non-negotiable extraordinary measures against the now ‘shared’ borderless existential threat posed by the extraterritorial humanitarian crises induced by terrorism and internal conflicts being projected onto the target states (whether justifiably or unjustifiably so) in an attempt to keep their credibility and popularity intact.

Our investigation of the humanitarian securitisation approach vis-à-vis Bush’s war on terror and Putin’s Ukraine invasion in this paper contributes to the extant literature on these subjects in four ways. Theoretically, it fleshes out the ontological nature and meaning of humanitarianism as conceived and employed by both the initiating and target parties. Empirically, it allows for a more nuanced understanding of humanitarianism’s function and outcome in different political contexts. Methodologically, it enables a more systematic conceptual and analytical inquiry into humanitarianism’s contested, albeit prominent, role and position in domestic politics and international relations. And, normatively, it helps to probe humanitarianism’s professed ethos against its actual conduct in contemporary warfare.

The paper proceeds as follows. First, we explain the constitutive elements of the humanitarian securitisation approach by examining the relationship between humanitarianism and securitisation. Based on this theoretical exploration, we develop three interrelated arguments regarding the utility and impact of the approach vis-à-vis the war agendas launched by powerful initiator states in response to the existential threats attributed to the target states and their implications for humanitarianism. We then empirically probe these arguments by comparatively analysing the role of humanitarian securitisation in Bush’s war on terror in the Middle East and Putin’s ongoing invasion of Ukraine. Drawing on this analysis, we discuss how humanitarian securitisation has altered the form and substance of contemporary humanitarianism. We conclude by summarising our key arguments and findings about humanitarian securitisation and reflecting on the approach’s implications towards the future of great-power wars and humanitarianism.

2. The two-way nexus between humanitarianism and securitisation

The recent waves of terrorism and internal conflicts worldwide have exposed how top-down humanitarian peace efforts are in some ways helping legitimise and entrench the status of these groups, particularly those pursued under the banner of the Responsibility To Protect (R2P) doctrine (see, Autesserre 2014; Hilhorst 2018; Kaldor 2016; Van Leeuwen 2009; Weiss 2001). First introduced by the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS) in 2001, the R2P represents humanitarianism’s pivotal role in rationalising military intervention in the name of human protection (see, International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty 2001). This particular use of the concept is fiercely opposed by critics who question the use of force for issues beyond the ambit of traditional national security alongside those who are uncomfortable with the imperialist complexion of humanitarianism and its legitimation of violence (Watson 2011; see also, Ayoob 2002; Bricmont 2006; O’Connell 2011; Slim 2001; Welsh 2004). Notwithstanding these issues, the humanitarian principle enshrined in the R2P doctrine has since received substantial local and international support.

The United Nations General Assembly’s (UNGA) acceptance of the R2P helped convince multilateral organisations such as the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) (2024) to back the idea of employing humanitarian action as a legitimate policy strategy for mitigating human suffering in times of severe crisis (see, United Nations 2024). Meanwhile, scholars like Rieff (2003) and Weiss (2001) attempted to reconceptualise humanitarianism either by excluding the state and the use of force or proposing certain limits for states that do employ force when pursuing humanitarian causes to prevent this policy action from being abused and exploited (see also, Watson 2011). Despite such interventions, the concept of humanitarianism has remained slippery, resulting in R2P’s often ambiguous and duplicitous implementation (Chimni 2000; Watson 2011).

While the term has been interpreted in various ways, the common thread that ties these definitions together is the belief that human life and dignity are legitimate security referents that can be existentially threatened by a plethora of issues (Watson 2011, see also, UNOCHA 2023; UNDP 1994; Weiss and Minear 1995). Despite this shared understanding, however, the use of humanitarianism as a justification for the threat or actual use of military force has been fiercely opposed by critics from competing intellectual camps. They range from the realists wary of the repercussions of deploying force beyond traditional national security reasons, to the critical theorists disturbed by humanitarianism’s imperialist tendencies and rationalisation of violence (Watson 2011; see also, MacFarlane et al., 2004; Welsh 2004). Nevertheless, some remain convinced that certain types of intervention are necessary and, therefore, should be justifiable. Such scholars and practitioners advocate for humanitarian actions grounded on humanitarianism that either strictly forbids state participation and the use of force, or at least sets clear criteria for ensuring that state forces are employed humanely and only towards humanitarian goals (see, de Waal and Omaar 1994; International Committee of the Red Cross 2023; Rieff 2003; Weiss 2001).

These differences underscore the difficulty of setting the boundaries of humanitarianism and credibly justifying the adoption of the R2P, resulting in serious moral and practical dilemmas confronting humanitarian missions. Consequently, the power of invoking the supposedly universal and shared value of humanitarianism for mobilising the required resources to initiate and sustain war as a ‘just’ and ‘legal’ necessary measure has been waning. One of the major problems, according to Hehir (2013, 137–8), stems from the Security Council’s ‘preponderance of inertia punctuated by aberrant flashes of resolve and timely action impelled by the occasional coincidence of interests and humanitarian need’ that leads to permanently inconsistent international responses causing significant damage to humanitarian principles. Kersavage (2014), for instance, points out how despite the proclaimed successful implementation of the R2P during the 2011 Libyan crisis, no such intervention took place in Syria where over 100,000 people were killed by competing state and non-state actors. Such inconsistencies, Kersavage (2014) claims, underscore the continued subservience of humanitarian norms to narrow politico-strategic interests and the conceptual weakness underpinning the interventionist aspects of humanitarianism. Consequently, and as Leenders and Mansour (2018, 226) put it, the Syrian case has made humanitarianism ‘complicit’ in, and the UN an ‘enabler’ of the regime’s brutal attempts to remain in power by allowing the state to hijack the existing international humanitarian system to ensconce its sovereignty claims.

Thus, as far as the Arab world is concerned, the R2P and its accompanying military intervention are simultaneously invoked and distrusted by the sitting administrations (Bin Talal and Schwarz 2013) depending on where the power pendulum swings, leading sceptics to view humanitarianism as just another variant of organised hypocrisy (Bures and Cusumano 2021). To this extent, the decision of the UN International Court of Justice (ICJ) on the genocide case filed by the South African government against Israel on 29 December 2023, can be interpreted as yet another example of this ‘humanitarian’ hypocrisy (see, International Court of Justice 2024).Despite being deemed as ‘a decisive victory for the international rule of law’ by some (Reuters 2024), the UN top court’s failure to call for an end to Netanyahu’s military offensive in Gaza and West Bank despite already killing more than 37, 000 Palestinians since 7 October 2023 (Jazeera Labs 2024), highlights the lethal effects of weaponising humanitarianism across the non-Western world, particularly towards the Arab nations.

This is where the potential legitimising and mobilising boost of the Copenhagen School’s securitisation approach comes into view. Drawing on the broader scholarshipon political legitimacy (e.g. Balzacq2014, 2019; Beetham 1991; Gilley 1997; Tyler 2006) and resource mobilisation theories (e.g. Cameron 1974; Edwards and Kane 2014; Hansen 2016; Jenkins 1983; McCarthy and Zald 2001), we propose that the infusion of humanitarianism into the securitisation process helps enhance the legitimising and mobilising powers needed by great-power leaders to sustain the medium- to long-term credibility and popularity of their war agendas as they begin to protract. Securitisation has become a major development in Security Studies due to its ability to go beyond the mere realist ontology of security by expanding our analysis to include non-state security actors and non-traditional security threats, while at the same time exploring less explained relations between those who speak security and what consequences these actors can bring (Krause and Williams 1996; Massari 2021). The securitisation process involves political actors intentionally elevating certain issues to the level of ‘state survival’, allowing them to break free of normal politics and access previously unapproachable resources by developing and deploying emergency ‘extraordinary measures’ intended to tackle these exceptional circumstances (Buzan, Wæver, and de Wilde 1998; see also, Balzacq 2005; Hass 2009; Huysmans 2011; Salter 2010).

This then leads to the questions of who can speak security, who is the audience they are addressing, and what consequences securitisation is likely to bring. Watson (2009, 2011) points out that securitisation privileges certain political actors in speaking security. If one were to open up a broader understanding of security threats and trace how these emerge and develop, attention must be paid to the process of ‘staging’ a security threat (Huysmans 1998). As Senia Febrica (2010) notes, almost any issue can be positioned as a security threat if the issue is properly staged. To stage a threat means to communicate its danger in a way that the threat is perceived to imperil the survival of the public, the nation, or the entire humanity. This very process of staging an issue as a threat and presenting it to the public is essentially a ‘speech act’, a term borrowed from language theory or what Buzan, Wæver, and de Wilde (1998, 25–26) refer to as a ‘securitization move’.

Through this speech act, a securitising actor seeks ‘to convince society why a certain condition constitutes a security threat’ (Febrica 2010, 571). As Philippe Bourbeau (2014, 191) argues, ‘A security speech act not only describes a state of affairs but also determines appropriate ways of acting and participating in relation to that state of affairs’. Here, we argue(1) that during humanitarian securitisation, the speech act carries out the same role but is specifically focused on the claimed humanitarian aspects of the problems presented such as humanitarian crises (genuine or manufactured) linked to terrorism and internal conflicts. By framing the threat in a moral and ethical humanitarian light, the securitising actors go beyond the traditional securitisation route in the hope of securing the highest and most sustained level of institutional and public mandate possible that would further legitimise the prescribed emergency responses encapsulated in their war agendas and mobilise the resources necessary for their continued implementation.

Consequently, one crucial question to consider and ask is who the intended audiences are for the said message. The concept of the audience plays a significant role in securitisation theory, thus giving a rare opportunity to include the society at large in security debates (Wæver 2015). The definition of a securitising audience in the original securitisation theory, however, is rather blurred and the relationship between a securitising actor and a securitising audience is not always clear (Lupovici 2014; Roe 2008; Stritzel 2007). Buzan, Wæver, and de Wilde (1998, 37) view the securitising audience as an interpretative community, that is, ‘it is the context in which principles or legitimacy and valuation circulate and within which the individual constructs an interpretation of events’. The closest description they provide refers to the audience as ‘those the securitizing act attempts to convince to accept the exceptional procedures’ (Buzan, Wæver, and de Wilde 1998, 41). Missing from this definition are discussions on how the audience is formed, how it becomes credible or can legitimise political decisions, or who would constitute as an audience (Léonard and Kaunert 2010; Stritzel 2007).

In response, Côté (2016, 548) offers to redefine the audience based on what it can bring to the securitisation process: ‘the individual(s) or group(s) that has the capability to authorize the view of the issue presented by the securitizing actor and legitimize the treatment of the issue through security practice’. Such a definition implies that the securitising audience is not necessarily equal to the public, as it is impossible to get feedback from every person in any given country. Instead, the securitising audience is often comprised of targeted groups of people vested with the capacity to decide whether to accept or reject the proposed extraordinary measures. This idea of the securitising audience representing collective identities in society rather than individual identities shapes the understanding of what is called ‘the audience’ for a given securitisation move in each situation (Hansen 2000; Wilkinson 2007). The response from the securitising audience can vary, i.e. it can take the form of concrete institutional legitimising measures from the relevant policymakers or the more informal popular moral support granted by some public communities (loosely defined) (Léonard and Kaunert 2010).

As with the traditional securitisation approach, the audience of humanitarian securitisation can be seen as twofold. Not only should the securitising speeches secure the approval of the decision-makers, they also must win the support (or at least a portrayal of such support) of the ‘general’ population and maintain these resources for as long as possible. Audience consent in both traditional and humanitarian securitisation is essential as the communication of a threat requires a shared understanding that such a threat, is in fact, real and urgent. What distinguishes the latter from the former, however, is the more specific and deliberate targeting of local and international humanitarian agents as vital and primary audience members which the securitising actors must effectively persuade to give greater humanitarian credence to their speech acts and accompanying extraordinary measures. That said, as we also argue(2), entering into this transactional relationship threatens the presumed neutrality and independence of humanitarian agents amid the threat of co-optation by state machinery which, in turn, ironically undermines their integrity in the eyes of their own audiences.

This brings us to the final phase of the securitisation process where the target audience decides whether to approve or reject the securitising move. If accepted, the securitising actors get a chance to override ordinary politics and the public (i.e. specific segments of the population that constitute the securitising audience granting ‘nationwide’ approval) must express its consent to and compliance with the new policy (Buzan, Wæver, and de Wilde 1998, 24). According to the traditional theorising of the Copenhagen School, the securitisation process would have failed if the targeted audience rejects the proposition. Without such support, the securitising actors cannot claim that the radical measures they are proposing to deal with an issue are necessary and legitimate.

Like traditional securitisation, the emergency responses that the securitising actors can summon and deploy via humanitarian securitisation can vary significantly. One important distinction, however, is how these ‘humanitarian’ types of extraordinary measures are portrayed to be within a shared understanding of universal, non-negotiable humanitarian values, allowing the securitising actors to bend the legal rules and political precedents to their own advantage even further via the reinforcing influence of humanitarianism. Tapping into their targetaudiences’ psycho-social perception of humanitarianism as a virtuous act, the initiating actors can repackage their motives and agendas as indisputably ‘moral’ and ‘just’ extraordinary humanitarian measures(see, Salter 2008; Wertman and Kaunert 2022). So, while humanitarian securitisation shares the same need for public approval to initiate a political response, it also simultaneously requires an additional layer of ‘humanitarian’ consent from the target audiences and provides an extra layer of ‘humanitarian’ credibility to the initiating actors, thereby further amplifying and underlining the need to securitise humanitarian crises. Indeed, emergency, particularly when invoked in humanitarian crisis contexts, to borrow and paraphrase Bohdana Kurylo’s words (2022, 3) becomes an ‘intrinsic part of [humanitarian securitization] politics’. But as we additionally argue(3), ultimately, humanitarian securitisation runs the risk of aggravating the humanitarian crises it performatively vows to resolve due to its militarisation of what should have been genuine humanitarian responses.

Bringing together these three interrelated arguments, we propose that humanitarian securitisation’s capability to performatively manufacture and sell some real or imagined ‘humanitarian’ issues as urgent and existing security threats makes it an accessible and viable tool for political leaders looking for ways to bolster and sustain their war efforts. The concept’s interior security logic and exterior humanitarian complexion make it distinct from the conventional ‘moral’ humanitarian discourse and the traditional ‘rational’ securitisation process, respectively.

3. Humanitarian securitisation in action

Drawing on the foregoing discussions on the two-way nexus between humanitarianism and securitisation, we now probe how the resulting humanitarian securitisation approach is used by great-power leaders in attempting to sustain the institutional and public mandate demanded by their war agendas. Using Bush’s war on terror and Putin’s invasion of Ukraine as empirical cases, the proceeding discussions reveal how both leaders resorted to instrumentalising humanitarianism to pursue their non-humanitarian objectives amid shifting perceptions about the credibility and popularity of their war efforts. As we demonstrate through these examples, the proliferation of humanitarian securitisation logic underpinning Washington’s and Moscow’s respective strategies to supposedly combat the humanitarian crises attributed to terrorism and internal conflicts, perpetuates the existing structural hierarchies between the powerful initiators and their weak targets by providing the former with a discursive-hermeneutic mechanism that further justifies and upholds their war agendas as necessary and lawful solutions.

3.1. The speech acts of humanitarian securitization

‘The purpose of this operation is to protect people who, for eight years now, have been facing humiliation and genocide perpetrated by the Kiev¹ regime. To this end, we will seek to demilitarise and denazify Ukraine, as well as bring to trial those who perpetrated numerous bloody crimes against civilians, including against citizens of the Russian Federation (The Kremlin Moscow 2022).’ These were Putin’s words during a televised speech to his people a day before the Ukraine invasion. Ten years after seizing Crimea, Putin has now accused the Ukrainians and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) of supporting a ‘Nazi regime’ responsible for the humanitarian crisis brought about by the alleged ‘atrocity’ and ‘genocide’ of innocent Russian speakers in the Donbas region (Putin 2022). Since 2014, the Russian-backed Donetsk Peoples Militia and Luhansk Peoples Militia have been embroiled in bitter battles with the Kyiv government over the separatist groups’ demands for independence from Ukraine. A year earlier, in an article entitled, ‘On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians’, Putin (2021) presented the situation as a catastrophic humanitarian crisis by quoting the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights (UNHCHR) report saying that the conflicts in Donbas already claimed more than 13,000 victims. In the same article, Putin (2021) referred to these casualties as ‘terrible, irreparable losses’ resulting from the ‘anti-Russia’ concept propagated by the West. Comparing the situation in Donetsk and Luhansk under the Ukrainians to what ‘Hitler’s accomplices did during the Great Patriotic War’, Putin insisted that the people’s republics of Donbas turned to Russia with a request for help, compelling him to take decisive action to stop the injustices they were subjected to (Jazeera Staff 2022; Ray 2022).

According to Putin (2022), these ‘fundamental threats’ that the Russians are facing, along with the humanitarian crises that could result from these threats, present great dangers to the stability and survival of the Russian way of life for both those in Ukraine and Russia. Left with ‘no other option’ but to protect Russia and his people from impending humanitarian catastrophes, Putin insisted that his ‘special military operation’ was in accordance with Article 51 Chapter VII of the UN Charter and in execution of Russia’s treaties of friendship and mutual assistance with the Donetsk Peoples Republic and the Luhansk Peoples Republic ratified on 22 February 2022. To deter Kyiv and her Western allies from interfering with his plans to finally put an end to the ‘Ukraine problem’, Putin warned that ‘Russia will respond immediately, and the consequences will be such as you have never seen in your entire history’ (The Kremlin Moscow 2022). These words echoed the sentiments of the earlier speech he delivered at the State Duma Federation Council in which the Russian leader claimed that a group of ‘nationalists, neo-Nazis, Russophobes, and anti-Semites’ (Putin 2014) in Kyiv was behind the 2014 coup that ignited the ongoing war between the two countries.

Such narratives about Naziism threatening to take over a neighbourhood country that is a ‘friend’ and ‘brother’ resonate well with the Russian public as they are embedded in the collective memory of the Soviet past (Oksamytna 2023). The Second World War, also known as the Great Patriotic War in Russia, remains a tragic and traumatic epochal event that continues to shape the general public’s understanding of and sentiments towards fascism (Bernstein 2016; Hicks 2020; Mahon et al. 2023; Malinova et al. 2017; Tumarkin 2003; Wood 2011). Retailoring the Russians’ collective experience and memory of fascism, Putin invokes Nazism to warn his people of the potential start of similar or even worse humanitarian tragedies not only for the Russians in Ukraine but for the whole of Russia. Rhetoric like ‘Where have you been for eight years?’ (i.e. from the annexation of Crimea to 2022) is intended to de-platform critics and non-supporters from the debate on whether the invasion could solve the security problems that the Kremlin claimed it had with protecting the Russian world. Putin’s ability to impose his own definitive version of a historical event as part and parcel of his mission to ‘right the wrongs’ of the Soviet collapse underscores how ‘collective memory in Russia remains a dynamic affair’ (Tromly 2023, 24; see also, Mälksoo 2015). This in turn helps reinforce the Kremlin’s humanitarian rationale for invading Ukraine in which Putin is presented as the only leader who could ‘save Europe’ from Naziism, thus opening the door for integrating ‘revisionist’ historical justifications (see, Putin 2024).

Putin’s resort to such speech acts in framing the alleged humanitarian crisis happening in a target state (i.e. Ukraine) as an existential threat to Russia in the hope of preserving the institutional and public mandate for his war efforts is not exactly new. More than twenty years ago, Bush deployed a parallel tactic in a bid to salvage the credibility and popularity of his war on terror. It is worth noting that before 9/11, Bush consistently rebuked the previous Clinton administration’s interventionist and multilateral approach to foreign policy and relations (Dolan 2004; Dolan, Lansford, and Hayden 2018). Accordingly, the US at the start of the Bush government refused to become an official party to various international treaties and conventions, notably the International Criminal Court, the Genocide Convention, the Mine Ban Treaty, and the Kyoto Protocol (see, Kaye 2013; Kim 2003; Lisowski 2002; Orentlicher 2003). In the aftermath following 9/11 and the subsequent launch of his war on terror, however, Bush’s non-interventionist stance gradually shifted as he began to embrace the nomenclature of humanitarianism, particularly in the context of his expanding war agenda in the Middle East. To this end, Bush’s speech acts started to focus heavily on the grave human rights abuses being suffered by the Afghans and the Iraqis in their homelands and the looming humanitarian crises that could spill over into American soil and the rest of the world if not immediately and decisively stopped.

In his address during a joint congress session a few days following the 9/11 attacks, Bush (2001a) claimed that the Taliban regime in Afghanistan was ‘committing murder’ and ‘threatening people everywhere by sponsoring and sheltering and supplying terrorists’. Less than two years later, Bush (2003) employed the same rhetoric with the launch of Operation Iraqi Freedom on 19 March 2003, accusing Saddam Hussein’s ‘outlaw’ regime of threatening international peace with ‘weapons of mass murder’ and, therefore, must be ‘disarmed’ to ‘free its people and to defend the world from grave danger’. As far as Bush was concerned, the war on terror was a sacred ‘God-given’ mission that only he could fulfil to prevent unimaginable terrorist-inflicted humanitarian catastrophes threatening to befall the rest of the world, especially the US. As one of his former associates noted, ‘I believe the president was sincere, after 9/11, thinking, “This is what I was put on this earth for”’ (Jervis 2003, 379; see also, Woodward 2002). In Bush’s (2002) own words, ‘We are in a conflict between good and evil, and America will call evil by its name. By confronting evil and lawless regimes, we do not create a problem, we reveal a problem. And we will lead the world in opposing it’. Such rhetoric enabled Bush to position himself and the US as the primary actors in the global fight against human rights abuses and the resulting humanitarian crises. In doing so, it allowed Bush to establish a hierarchy in the international society in which the US was perceived as the ‘higher authority’ that all other liberal democracies must support and follow. The resulting exceptionalist and pre-emptive response to 9/11 engendered an ‘egoist morality’ (Kerton-Johnson 2008) that made Bush act as if he possessed the legitimate right to decide ‘when the sovereignty of others can be infringed’ (Wheeler 2003, 185).

Together, these iterative speech acts illustrate how through ad hoc and predatory deployment of humanitarianism as an additional auxiliary justification, both Bush and Putin were able to project their war agendas as crusades for human rights and freedoms amid the claimed humanitarian crises induced by terrorism and internal conflicts plaguing their respective target states. Through this discursive-hermeneutic instrumentalization of humanitarianism in which the two great-power leaders defined and dictated the ‘appropriate’ context and ‘legitimate’ interpretation of humanitarianism, including its liminality, Washington and Moscow were able to preserve the ‘natural order of things’ where they remain the principal axes of global power and order (see, Ciută 2009; Dexter 2008; Hajjar 2019; Mills 2005). Following this logic, the war agendas articulated and narrated through Bush’s and Putin’s speech acts were supposed to be seen as ‘divine’ and ‘good’ as they adhered to the principles of ‘just wars’ (Dexter 2008, 66; see also Chesterman 2005; O’Dempsey and Munslow 2009; Hetherington and Suhay 2011; Jackson 2005). This, in turn, allowed both leaders to rationalise the significant losses they suffered from purportedly attempting to save not only the others but more importantly, their own people from these urgent humanitarian threats despite their previously non-interventionist stance.

The idea here is that imbuing a humanitarian ethos into the securitisation process, on the one hand, and invoking the securitisation approach in ‘channelling’ humanitarianism, on the other, would help reinforce the legitimising and mobilising powers needed by great powers to sustain their war agendas. The resulting humanitarian securitisation approach employed by powerful initiator states like the US and Russia offers them a pathway for maintaining the institutional and public mandate demanded by their respective war efforts further by framing the humanitarian crises allegedly induced by the terrorism and internal conflicts besetting their respective target states as collective borderless existential threats that all concerned and affected parties must resolutely defeat. Deploying military means for these supposedly humanitarian ends via humanitarian securitisation has become an appealing policy choice as it allows these actors to cut corners in due diligence when pushing for their ulterior politico-strategic interests (see, Buzan, Wæver, and de Wilde 1998; Watson 2011; Weiss 2016). While the approach might be more challenging to employ under democracy, the discursive-hermeneutic quality of humanitarian securitisation suggests that powerful political actors both in non-democratic and democratic settings have relatively easy access to it, allowing them to invoke military, albeit ‘humanitarian’, responses to threats posed by real or imagined humanitarian crises (Kurniawan 2018; Patomäki 2015; Tsygankov and Parker 2015; Vuori 2008).

When employed,securitisation, particularly in the name of humanitarianism, can lead to ‘secrecy, violation of legitimate norms and procedures and thus de-democratization’ (Patomäki 2015, 133), allowing partisan securitising actors to invent enemies based on insecurities informed by their unchecked ideational predispositions and make war seem like the only viable option (Robinson 2017). As the succeeding discussions show, it is precisely this potential of humanitarian securitisation to reinforce the legitimising and mobilising powers of the initiator states that makes it a seductive and compelling option, especially for great-power leaders who (1) feel pressure to sustain and eventually ‘win’ the wars they launch and (2) have the required wherewithal to employ it, to begin with. To echo Michael Barnett and Thomas Weiss’ (Barnett and Weiss 2008, 25) reading of the international security order after 9/11, ‘It is highly doubtful that states experienced a “great awakening” and substituted a moral outlook for national interests. Arguably most important was a recalculation of the relationship between interests and the potential impacts of humanitarian disasters in an increasingly connected world’.

3.2. The extraordinary measures and audiences of humanitarian securitization

The words uttered by Bush and Putin via their speech acts turned into flesh with the commencement of the war on terror in the Middle East and the Ukraine invasion they led respectively. While initially portrayed as the ultimate solutions to terrorism and internal conflicts that threatened their respective national interests, the inability of both leaders to wrap upthese wars within their expected timeframes posed risks to their continued credibility and popularity as a variety of (un)anticipated internal and external challenges began to emerge that led to their protraction. In response, the language and scope of Bush’s and Putin’s respective war agendas began to expand with the ad hoc and predatory insertion of humanitarian rhetoric and principles as an additive auxiliary justification. This, in turn, led to the repurposing of these wars as necessary extraordinary measures to the now ‘collective’ borderless existential threat posed by the extraterritorial humanitarian crises attributed to terrorism and internal conflicts in their respective target states in the hope of preserving institutional and public support.

For Bush, inserting humanitarianism into the war on terror required the conflation of narrow American interests with those of the entire humanity, rebranding his pursuit of US security as an intrinsic component of international peace and order. Robert Jervis (2003) outlined the main components of the ‘Bush doctrine’ that have continued to influence Washington’s foreign policy following 9/11: (1) transforming international relations and politics by universally promoting democracy and liberalism, (2) defeating terrorism through preventive war, (3) acting unilaterally when necessary, and (4) asserting US primacy to achieve world peace and stability. Such beliefs highlight Bush’s neo-conservative logic and ‘post-national politics’ that anchored the security of every American into the security of all through the universal promotion of freedom and liberty as understood by the US and her allies (see, Beck 2005; Dexter 2008). The ‘good’ American war rationalisation resulting from this conception of US national interests gets credence from the just war principles arbitrarily applied by the architects of the war on terror to intellectually and morally defend the military actions that the campaign entailed (see, Dexter 2008; Falk 2004; Hajjar 2019; Mills 2005). Indeed, the ‘humanitarian’ war on terror operations that followed, to borrow Helen Dexter’s (2008, 58), have become ‘the first resort of the righteous’ made possible by injecting a ‘universal’ humanitarian responsibility rhetoric into the artery of Western revolution in military affairs. By proactively embedding humanitarianism, armed American ‘humanitarian’ actions in the Middle East have become tantamount to permissible war itself (see, Lawler 2002; Mills 2005)

Meanwhile, for Putin, inserting humanitarianism in his invasion of Ukraine necessitated the propagation of a shared understanding of Russia’s unique role in history as the last resort of the civilised world against the West’s ‘immorality’, a unique civilisation, and worthy of much greater political impact and international respect (Klubkov 2015; Lukin 2019; Shlapentokh 2007; Umbach 2000; Umland 2009). Brian Taylor (2018) identified the key elements of the ‘Putin doctrine’ that have continued to dictate Moscow’s foreign policy following the 2004 Orange Revolution and later the 2014 Revolution of Dignity in Ukraine: (1) illiberal conservatism as an overarching paradigm for pursuing national interests; (2) anti-Americanism as a method for defending Russian orthodox values; (3) a powerful autocratic state commanding control, order, and loyalty; and (4) feelings of resentment, mistreatment, and vulnerability as rationales for its illiberal conservatism, anti-Americanism, and autocratic rule. Such beliefs underscore Putin’s distrust towards US ‘hegemonic’ liberalism and discomfort over democracy’s practice by people with whom they share culture and history, both of which undermine his goal of planting a strong, autocratic Slavic ruler with orthodox conservative values as an additional measure for securing Russia (see, McFaul 2020; Taylor 2018).

Similar to the ‘good’ American war facilitated by Bush, the ‘good’ Russian war justification resulting from this understanding of Russian national interests is also upheld by the just war principles subjectively applied by the planners of the Ukraine invasion to rationally and ethically defend the military actions demanded by the ‘special military operation’ (see, Dexter 2008; Falk 2004; Hajjar 2019; Mills 2005). As such, the ‘humanitarian’ Ukraine invasion that followed also served as Putin’s ‘rightful’ first resort (see, Dexter 2008) enabled by his performative humanitarian acts of ‘goodwill’ and ‘kindness’ towards all descendants of Ancient Rus ‘bound together by one language […], economic ties, the rule of the princes of the Rurik dynasty, and […] the Orthodox faith’ (Putin 2021).In consciously implanting humanitarianism, militarised Russian ‘humanitarian’ actions in Ukraine have also become equivalent to permissible war itself (see, Lawler 2002; Mills 2005).

Drawing on the conduct of Bush’s war on terror and Putin’s Ukraine invasion, we can identify five defining characteristics of the extraordinary measures produced by humanitarian securitisation. Together, they demonstrate how the ad hoc and predatory instrumentalization of humanitarianism contributed to the reinforcement of the legitimising and mobilising powers of great-power leaders in pursuing their national interests and how multiple relevant audiences responded to these moves.

First, in terms of their stated objectives, despite the supposed humanitarian duties invoked by the two leaders in reframing and repurposing their war agendas, these extraordinary measures were primarily designed to secure US and Russian national interests. Washington’s war on terror and Moscow’s invasion of Ukraine were concrete evidence of Bush’s and Putin’s respective attempts at establishing a revised international normative order that they intended to dominate. In bringing about this new order, both Bush and Putin emphasised the supremacy of American and Russian ‘humanitarian’ values and ideals, respectively (Romanova 2018). This allowed them to circumvent the fundamental political dilemma of having to justify and transform power into authority by defending the preponderance and application of American and Russian power according to their own national morality codes and security ideals (see, Kerton-Johnson 2008). By doing so, the US and Russia, to borrow Mohammed Ayoob’s (2003) words, set themselves as the ‘arbiter of the criteria by which such high-sounding goals [of peace, justice and freedom] are to be served and those who violate them punished’. The consequent actions precipitated by the extraordinary measures displayed during the war on terror and the Ukraine invasion revealed the UN’s inadequacies, or worse, irrelevance, in managing great-power politics, further eroding the already fragile normative consensus underpinning the international order (see, Ayoob 2003; Kerton-Johnson 2008).

Second, in terms of their primary referents, notwithstanding the supposed shared and collective existential threat of extraterritorial humanitarian crises, the ultimate referents of these extraordinary measures were the very same great powers executing them. In the months leading up to the Iraq invasion, for example, conservative quarters in the US argued that Washington should not feel compelled to seek approval from the UN for its planned attack but, instead, use the UN as ‘a subcontractor to do the things that it is good at’, that is, ‘to clean up the United States’ mess instead’ (Mills 2005, 178). Nevertheless, given their moral justifications for such non-consensual military operations, both Bush and Putin recognised the importance of being perceived as caring‘humanitarian’ actors. With the help of their allied international humanitarian organisations (hereafter, IHOs) and donor countries, whether willingly or reluctantly, both Washington and Moscow were able to exploit humanitarian actions to legitimise their humanitarian image while simultaneously deflecting their global accountability and responsibility onto these entities ‘once the slaughter was done’ (167). This further cemented the US’s and Russia’s role as the harbinger and protector of Western and non-Western international laws and norms, respectively. In launching pre-emptive attacks against their target enemies, Bush and Putin were effectively transformed into the sovereign that decides whose sovereignty gets suspended and encroached (see, Wheeler 2003, 185) and in the process, ‘install hierarchy in the international order and to become the higher authority to which other states must look’ (Kerton-Johnson 2008, 1006).

Third, in terms of their actual functions, despite the supposed centrality of the target states’ security and survival as an impetus for addressing the existential threat posed by extraterritorial humanitarian crises, these extraordinary measures were mainly intended to guarantee the security and position of the great powers initiating them. That said, both Bush and Putin found it crucial to strategically embed their rhetoric for the war on terror and the Ukraine invasion into the distinctive American and Russian master narratives of ‘universal’ morality, freedom, and justice to legitimise their militarised ‘humanitarian’ responses to these threats further. Doing so allowed them to highlight their unique positions as embodiments and, therefore, rightful defenders of these supreme values. In claiming this right to make the states harbouring terrorist and genocidal groups accountable, Bush and Putin took advantage of their uniquely privileged status that allowed them to disregard the prevailing conventional and customary laws that threatened to undermine their respective national interests and moralities (see, Kerton-Johnson 2008; Person and McFaul 2022; Wheeler 2003). Consequently, the pre-emptive ‘humanitarian’ wars fought against the terrorist organisations in Afghanistan and Iraq, on the one hand, and against the ‘far-right nationalist’ and ‘neo-Nazi’ groups in Ukraine, on the other, became the justifying benchmarks of US and Russian foreign policies, demarcating the international community between the allied and non-allied regions (see, Kerton-Johnson 2008; Kozyrev 2022; Kumankov 2022; Wheeler 2003).

Fourth, in terms of their implementation methods, not withstanding the supposed multilateral character of and consent for the ‘humanitarian’ missions through which they were implemented, these extraordinary measures were almost exclusively internally and unilaterally conceptualised and decided on by the great powers espousing them. Bush’s war on terror and Putin’s Ukraine invasion demonstrated how great powers weaponised humanitarianism by legitimating the violation of the fundamental principles underpinning its existence, particularly concerning the target states’ sovereignty and territorial integrity and the strict limitation on the right to use force against other states, thereby reducing the agency of international society in the process. That both the US and Russia went on with their pre-emptive ‘humanitarian’ war agendas despite fierce opposition from various domestic and international actors, demonstrated the strength and wherewithal of these great-power leaders to impose their demands and morality at the expense of those observed by the majority in the international society. Such an attitude is significantly influenced by the American and Russian political elites’ privileged sense of exceptionalism imbued with ‘existential nationalism’ (Knott 2022), convincing them to believe that they are merely acting to ‘protect’ those in need of ‘protecting’ (i.e. those who subscribe to and accept US or Russian primacy) (Klubkov 2015; Umbach 2000). By conflating American and Russian national freedom with the freedom of those within their respective spheres of influence, the absence of international legal consensus did not prevent the war on terror and the Ukraine invasion from being carried out. But while this exceptionalist mindset gave Bush and Putin the assurance that the peace and freedom they were fighting for would defeat all ‘evils’, in the process, both leaders had morphed into threats more destructive than those which they claimed to want to eliminate in the first place (Kerton-Johnson 2008, 1006; see also; Knott 2022; Wight 1999).

Fifth, and finally, throughout the articulation and implementation of these extraordinary measures, Bush and Putin resorted to the state-led ‘othering’ of their appointed enemies, allowing them to portray themselves as both the saviours and potential victims of the extraterritorial humanitarian crises emanating from terrorism and internal conflicts. The accepted reality of these threats on the parts of Bush and Putin gave them the licence to disregard the legal and normative constraints imposed by the international institutions concerning the legitimate use of force against other states that have underpinned international relations since the post-Second World War. This permitted Washington and Moscow to seize greater extraordinary privileges for themselves, resulting in the simultaneous deterioration of the international society and the creation of new hierarchic relations within it (Kerton-Johnson 2008; Sasse 2023). In shoring up institutional and public support for these extraordinary measures, Bush and Putin emphasised the barbarity of their menacing enemies that needed to be stopped once and for all. This necessitated distortive and manipulative humanitarian propaganda that disguised ulterior motives behind the façade of humanitarianism (see, Glennon 2008; Mälksoo 2015; Massari 2021).

For Bush, this meant framing America’s enemies as constituting‘an axis of evil, arming to threaten the peace of the world’ to justify his belief that ‘History has called America and our allies to action, and it is both our responsibility and our privilege to fight freedom’s fight’ (cited in The Washington Post 2002). Whereas for Putin, this meant painting Russia’s actions as ‘self-defence against the threats posed to us and from an even greater disaster than what is happening today’ to rationalise his claim that ‘all responsibility for possible bloodshed will be entirely on the conscience of the regime ruling on the territory of Ukraine’ (cited in The Spectator 2022). The message that the two great-power leaders wanted their respective audiences to hear and accept was clear: that their proposed extraordinary measures (i.e. Bush’s ‘war on terror’ in the Middle East and Putin’s invasion of Ukraine) could only be deemed ‘legitimate’ and ‘justified’ since their success would not only beneficial for the American and Russian people but everyone who accepted the US or Russia as the one true leader of the international order.

4. Implications for humanitarianism and IHOs

Drawing on the foregoing discussions examining Bush’s and Putin’s attempts at maintaining the credibility and popularity of their respective war agendas via humanitarian securitisation, we identify the major implications of the approach vis-à-vis the form and substance of contemporary humanitarianism and IHOs. Together, these implications underscore why the adoption of the approach ultimately undermines the presumed logic and effectiveness of humanitarian securitisation as a strategy for sustaining the institutional and public mandate necessary for the continued operations of great-power wars.

First, humanitarian crises, particularly those linked to terrorism and internal conflicts, demand long-term systemic solutions which humanitarian securitisation cannot provide due to its propensity for militarising humanitarian responses, thereby paradoxically prolonging the very same problems that create these crises in the first place. Pursuing humanitarianism within the ambit of military operations blurs the lines of responsibility between the two sectors, forcing involved IHOs to devise and implement programmes that support humanitarian wars in exchange for protection (O’Dempsey and Munslow 2009). For more than two decades since the 9/11 attacks, both Washington and Moscow have relied heavily on humanitarianism to try to ‘win’ their wars in the Middle East and Eastern Europe. In the words of the late US State Secretary Colin Powell, ‘ … NGOs are out there serving and sacrificing on the frontlines of freedom. NGOs are such a force multiplier for us, such an important part of our combat team’ (cited in Barnett 2005, 726). By co-opting the humanitarian norms and the actors that espouse and enact them, these powerful states have been able to invent their ‘humanitarian’ image and intent to redirect responsibility.

These developments have had a grave impact on the conduct and state of humanitarianism as many of these IHOs inevitably gave up a considerable degree of control over their mandates and principles to continue with their operations (Barnett 2011; Mills 2005; O’Dempsey and Munslow 2009). The ‘either you are with us, or you are with the enemies’ justification sold by either Bush or Putin made IHO personnel in the fields look like proxies of their governments and, therefore, also became targets in the wars they initiated. While the proponents of such an arrangement do not see this practice as violating prevailing domestic rules and international norms of non-intervention, others insist that it flouts the normal civilian-centric approach to responding to humanitarian crises.

This progressive militarisation of humanitarian responses eventually leads to the creation of specialised military entities (e.g. Office of the United States Foreign Disaster Assistance and The Ministry of the Russian Federation for Civil Defence, Emergencies and Elimination of Consequences of Natural Disasters) that enable powerful states to further legitimise the massive mobilisation of military resources demanded by their ‘humanitarian-friendly’ war agendas. In such contexts, state actors seize the right to unilaterally articulate human insecurity in which a supposedly universal form and understanding of humanity is declared pursuant to their ulterior ‘humanitarian’ interests and agendas. Accordingly, there have been arguments for ‘decommissioning’ the securitisation approach, specifically by de-escalating the use of humanitarian discourses when framing an identified existential threat and justifying the extraordinary measures implemented in response (see, Watson 2011; Weiss and Campbell 1991). However, considering the approach’s potential forlegitimizing and mobilising the deployment of intensified powers and additional resources during extraordinary times, humanitarian securitisation is expected to intensify and remain a core feature of great-power politics.

Consequently, and second, humanitarianizing conflict-affected areas through a ‘salvationist’ humanitarian securitisation approach undermines the neutrality and independence of humanitarian agencies as they are not immune to the political currents permeating that space. On the contrary, as state leaders began to realise the potential political capital that IHOs bring to their respective causes, humanitarianism has increasingly become part of statecraft (Barnett2005, 2011). As Mills (2005) surmises, while the growing dependence of states on IHOs could be interpreted as a sign of the latter’s diminishing power over their own foreign policies, this could also imply the weakening of the humanitarian ethos as the IHOs continue to succumb to state machinery, whether intentionally or not. Notwithstanding their efforts to stay politically neutral and to focus on people- and rights-based initiatives, those who collaborate with the state actors put their humanitarian work at risk of being co-opted and politicised (see, Massari 2021). As Nicolas de Torrente (2004, 29) puts it: ‘When governments drape their military and political actions in the cloak of humanitarian concerns, they undermine humanitarian action’s essential purpose: the unconditional provision of assistance to those in need’.

As such, it is crucial for IHOs working with state actors to explicitly acknowledge the biases driving their conceptions of humanity on which their humanitarian frameworks and activities are based (Radice 2019). This, in turn, requires identifying the ‘possibility of humanity’ by ‘seeking to save something of the humanity of others’ amid individual and group differences’ (Radice 2019, 448; see also, Orbinski 2009). Several scholarly works have already started questioning the morality of humanitarianism and its role in militarised humanitarian interventions, noting that the arbitrariness of its invocation does not represent a positive development in the field because it brings in an even more obscure and complicated political process that hampers genuine humanitarian help when it is needed the most (see, Andersson 2012; Ben-Ze’ev and Gazit 2018; Chouliaraki 2010; Cuttitta 2018).

Despite their recognition of such risks and the dangers of being entangled in the military and political manoeuvrings of powerful state actors, many IHOs are reluctant to decide whether to fully cooperate with them or resolutely push back (de Torrente 2004; Minear 2002; Sassòli 2022). Such indecisiveness inevitably chips away at the integrity of the humanitarian ethos as humanitarianism is increasingly perceived as a mere extension of great-power politics or in Carl von Clausewitz’s (as cited in Roxborough 1994, 621) words, ‘a continuation of politics by other means’. This in turn further undermines the principles of neutrality and independence intended to protect the humanitarian workers’ access and condition in uncertain and hostile political environments. Through humanitarian securitisation, great powers searching for ways to sustain and win their war agendas can artificially transplant humanitarianism right into the heart of contemporary conflicts. Kurt Mills (2005, 162) refers to the phenomenon as ‘neo-humanitarianism’ which is characterised by the ‘explicit manipulation of humanitarianism for political or military gain on the ground in a conflict or as a substitute for political and military action’. In many ways, IHOs have played a pivotal role in bringing about this new era, not least by being exposed to and inadvertently servicing the agendas of competing state and non-state actors in the middle of wars and conflicts, thereby undermining their role as neutral, impartial, and independent parties (Duffield 2014; Dunn and Bobick 2014; McCormack and Gilbert 2018; Mills 2005).

Notwithstanding Washington’s and Moscow’s historically ambivalent, if not, hostile stance towards such illusory norms (Rice 2000), the ad hoc and predatory instrumentalization of the humanitarian ethos by Bush and Putin to buttress their respective war efforts further, reveal the utility and outcome of the humanitarian securitisation approach. Thus, as humanitarian responses become more prevalent in the 21st century, the respect for core humanitarian norms and principles has paradoxically declined (Hoffman and Weiss 2017; Mills 2005). Proponents see the increasing reliance of powerful states on IHOs as good news, believing that this is an indication of the former’s weakening power and the steadily growing prominence of the latter. Sceptics, on the other hand, deem the burgeoning alliance between IHOs and great powers as a precursor to the eventual loss of the former’s humanitarian meaning and autonomy as they become increasingly complicit to the latter’s pursuit of narrow self-interests and war agendas. Indeed, while the relationship between IHOs and states may be deemed as ‘symbiotic’, beneath the surface level, the substantial power imbalances between them reduce humanitarianism into yet another imperialistic and exploitative foreign policy tool reserved for the most powerful within the existing international system.

5. Concluding remarks

This paper has examined how great-power leaders instrumentalise humanitarianism in attempting to sustain the credibility and popularity demanded by their war agendas. Using Bush’s war on terror and Putin’s Ukraine invasion as empirical examples, we have demonstrated the operational utility and outcome of the humanitarian securitisation approach adopted by these powerful state leaders amid fluctuating perceptions towards the credibility and popularity of their respective war efforts. Investigating how Bush and Putin utilised humanitarian securitisation vis-à-vis their war agendas, we have shown how this discursive-hermeneutic process enabled powerful initiator states to frame the humanitarian crises arising from the terrorism and internal conflicts plaguing their less powerful target states as collective borderless existential threats, thereby reinforcing and rationalising their war efforts further. However, as we have also revealed from our discussions, the humanitarian securitisation resulting from the artificial injection of the humanitarian ethos into the securitisation process has become a double-edged sword for Washington and Moscow. Although it has helped reinforce Bush’s and Putin’s legitimising and mobilising powers to pursue their narrowly perceived politico-strategic objectives via these war agendas, it has ultimately led them to seemingly endless wars and jeopardised genuine humanitarian aims in the process.

Indeed, this ad hoc ad and predatory deployment of the humanitarian securitisation approach by Bush and Putin ultimately ensnared the US and Russia in a ‘good war’ conundrum that made them captives of their accompanying ‘humanitarian’ scripts. After Bush’s exit, the US has been successively run by ‘anti-war turned endless war’ leaders who have all contributed to the entrenchment rather than containment of America’s globalised militarism (see, Moyn 2021). Notable among them was Barack Obama who, despite his eloquence towards the subjects of just war and just peace (see, The White House 2009), became the architect of a much larger and encompassing warfare that led to his term’s grim conclusion. Contrary to the expectations of many that Obama would immediately put an end to Bush’s war agenda and withdraw from the Middle East, the former democrat leader expanded it further by making the global war on terror more palatable through his savvier performance in humanitarianizing American warfare (see, O’Driscoll 2011; McDonald 2016; Reeves and May 2013).

By simultaneously renouncing the worst transgressions of his predecessor and devising formal legal frameworks for ‘humane’ targeted killings using drones, Obama was able to claim and sustain the authority to fight his own war agenda and eventually win a Nobel Prize for his humanitarianism. Fast forward to 2024 under the present Washington administration, although Biden was able to complete the US withdrawal from Afghanistan on 31 August 2023 (see, The White House 2023), his heavy involvement with Israel’s ongoing attacks on Palestine risks him repeating his former running mate’s performative humanitarianism (see, The White House 2023). As Samuel Moyn (2021) perceptively put it, ‘whatever history’s judgement of the merits of the “war on terror”, and the consequences for the world and for itself, the results left the country with a paradox it had not yet faced and had therefore done nothing to overcome’.

Meanwhile, more than four thousand miles across the Atlantic, the now five-term serving Russian president, Putin confronts the same predicament as he becomes hostage to the ‘humanitarian war’ trap of his own doing. The Ukraine invasion has started to dictate its own rules to Putin, forcing him and his subordinates to submit to the new domestic realities engendered by their war efforts. While many were quick to dismiss the 2024 presidential election as a mere formality given the absence of any genuine contenders who could seriously challenge Putin, the incumbent government exploited the event to further sell the war by framing it as a fight for the survival of all Russian-identifying individuals facing humanitarian disasters in the hands of the Ukrainian government. In the words of Marat Gelman (cited in Sauer 2024), one of Putin’s former advisers and now a critic of the Kremlin leader, ‘The point is to crush the anti-war movement on the ballot. Those who are against the war need to feel that they are in the absolute minority’. As such, calls to recall the soldiers who have been mobilised since 2022 were routinely portrayed as being anti-Russian while those who already defected were labelled as traitors (Rosenberg 2023).

But unlike Obama’s Nobel Prize-winning performance, Putin’s awkward and gauche interpretation of the role of the humanitarian figure has led to some bizarre scenes which, like the emperor’s new clothes, nobody from his circle quite dared to question. Tatiana Stanovaya (2024) poignantly described one of these episodes where, ‘Ahead of the festive season […] the president is both Father Christmas, embodying paternal care for his people, and the leader of a nation at war, sending off other people’s children to the front’.Nevertheless, this certainly did not prevent Putin from launching himself into ‘the stratosphere of post-Soviet election results’ (Roth 2024) with state-controlled media reporting that 87.28% of the Russian voters decided to continue entrusting their mandate to him following the March 2204 presidential election (Sauer 2024).

By allowing Bush and Putin to frame extraterritorial humanitarian crises as collective borderless existential threats that they have the legitimate right and responsibility to address and defeat in order to save and protect their ‘referent’ populations (i.e. the Americans and ‘the rest of the world’ and the Russians in Ukraine and at home, respectively), humanitarian securitisation has contributed to the exacerbation of existing power hierarchies by altering the form and substance of contemporary humanitarianism. Entering into this transactional relationship has damaged the presumed neutrality and independence of humanitarian agencies amid the accusations of being co-opted by the state machinery which considerably weakened their integrity in the eyes of their own audiences. Due to its intrinsic tendency to militarise what should have been altruistic people-centric humanitarian responses, humanitarian securitisation has ultimately aggravated the humanitarian crises it performatively vowed to solve in the first place, thereby undermining the claimed logic and effectiveness of adopting the approach.

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No potential conflict of interest was reported by the authors.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Michael Magcamit

Michael Magcamit, PhD is a Lecturer of Global Politics and Leverhulme International Fellow at the University of Manchester in the United Kingdom. He is the author of Ethnoreligious Otherings and Passionate Conflicts (OUP 2022) and Small Powers and Trading Security (Palgrave/Springer 2016). His work has appeared or is forthcoming in the International Studies Quarterly, International Affairs, International Politics, and Political Science, among others.

Anastassiya Mahon

Anastassiya Mahon, PhD is a UK-based independent researcher. She is the creator of Unlimitedpolitics.com, a platform for a growing community of people interested in global security. Her research investigates the impact of (in)security on policy formation, particularly within illiberal regimes. She focuses on how the political incorporation of security threats fundamentally transforms politics and society. She has published articles in International Studies Perspectives, Critical Studies on Terrorism, Studies of Transition States and Societies, the Conversation, and others.

Notes

1. The Ukrainian spelling is employed throughout the paper, except in direct quotes, where the original spelling is retained.