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Gaza facing man-made ‘mass starvation' as hunger deaths surge, WHO says

Gaza facing man-made ‘mass starvation' as hunger deaths surge, WHO says

Palestinian children wait to receive food at a charity kitchen in the Mawasi area of Khan Younis,...
Palestinian children wait to receive food at a charity kitchen in the Mawasi area of Khan Younis, in the southern...
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For war-ravaged youth, education is an anchor amid chaos, not a luxury
For war-ravaged youth, education is an anchor amid chaos, not a luxury

South China Morning Post

timea day ago

  • South China Morning Post

For war-ravaged youth, education is an anchor amid chaos, not a luxury

Education systems adapted to local conditions are strategic, long-term investments in community resilience. It must be treated as a frontline intervention in a crisis Most global actors still treat education as an afterthought during crises, something to address only once food, water and shelter are secured. But in places like Palestine, Syria and Afghanistan, this hierarchy collapses. Education isn't a post-crisis luxury; it's the anchor in the chaos. Over the past decade, I've learned that education must be treated as a frontline intervention, restoring not only learning, but also safety, identity and hope. It's not just about classrooms. It's about systems that endure. This requires a different mindset, prioritising community-led design over one-size-fits-all frameworks, embedding psychosocial support structurally, trusting youth with leadership and planning for local ownership from the start. Education isn't what follows survival; it's how people survive. We don't need more tool kits, we need a mindset shift. Global actors must listen more, prescribe less and embrace complexity over metrics. Only then can we build education systems that endure when everything else collapses. In 2015, a few months after a war in Gaza, I entered a shelter that had been a bustling school. A boy, no older than 10, asked: 'When will the school come back?' I didn't have an answer. Since then, I've worked across some of the world's hardest-hit areas, in Palestine, Syria, Lebanon and Afghanistan. These experiences challenged many assumptions that still shape global education policy. In the years that followed, we began to understand that restoring education in crisis zones wasn't only about reopening schools, it was also about building adaptable systems. Our work began to evolve beyond emergency. We developed scholarship programmes for marginalised and refugee youth, not as charity but as strategic, long-term investments in community resilience. 'I'm as old as the revolution', Syrian boy turns 10 as nation marks decade of civil war In Syria and Lebanon, prolonged displacement rendered traditional education models ineffective. For some, the urgent need was a quick entry into the labour market; for others, the dream of academic excellence still burned bright. What they needed were parallel, flexible pathways. Newsletter Daily Opinion By submitting, you consent to receiving marketing emails from SCMP. If you don't want these, tick here {{message}} Thanks for signing up for our newsletter! Please check your email to confirm your subscription. Follow us on Facebook to get our latest news. The thoughtful response was to design modular options: short-term, market-aligned diplomas that allowed learners to pause and resume, alongside full bachelor's degree opportunities through partnerships with institutions such as the American University of Beirut. Optionality, not rigidity, became a lifeline, ensuring dignity, adaptability and access to opportunity. In Afghanistan, the Taliban's 2021 return triggered the collapse of the education system, particularly for girls and women. This prompted a dual strategy. The Afghan Thrive initiative aimed to offer globally recognised online learning for women barred from classrooms. Meanwhile, the Qatar Scholarship for Afghans Project (QSAP) mobilised over 60 US universities and international stakeholders to provide scholarships and safe relocation pathways for hundreds of Afghan youth. These weren't temporary fixes. They were structural interventions designed for continuity, portability and resilience because in fragile settings, sustaining education is also about sustaining identity. But access to learning means little without addressing trauma. In Gaza, therapy rooms were introduced into public schools for the first time, central case units were developed to handle high-risk mental health interventions, and school counsellors were embedded in long-term mentorship programmes. Twinning partnerships were created with international institutions to help universities establish degree tracks in psychosocial support, and a national digital case management platform was developed to link services, ministries and NGOs. How 2 years of Taliban rule have transformed Afghanistan back to the past Still, some of the most profound healing didn't happen in counselling sessions. Many young people described dignity and income as the greatest sources of resilience. With local job markets saturated, digital freelancing became a powerful outlet. Training in globally in-demand skills allowed young people to work remotely, earn income and reclaim a sense of agency. These were not symbolic efforts. They were deliberate investments in psychological, economic and social recovery. This was never clearer than after the most recent Gaza war broke out in 2023. As institutions collapsed, young people didn't wait for aid agencies. They created informal schools in shelters, distributed hygiene kits, ran mental health activities for children and cooked meals for their communities. Many were our students and graduates from the scholarship programmes before the war. We didn't script this response. They did. We simply gave them the small grants and logistical support they needed. They are not beneficiaries. They are infrastructure. And in the absence of functioning systems, they are often the only infrastructure left. What this reveals is a fundamental flaw in how the world still approaches education in emergencies. It's not that youth lack initiative; it's that systems too often fail to recognise or support them. This ties into a deeper misconception that education can wait, that first comes food and shelter. But in conflict settings, education is often the thread holding everything else together. That boy in Gaza is likely a man now. I still don't know when schools will reopen in the strip. But I know this: if we listen more and design smarter, we may help youth believe learning is worth holding onto, even in the ruins.

For war-ravaged youth, education is an anchor amid chaos, not a luxury
For war-ravaged youth, education is an anchor amid chaos, not a luxury

South China Morning Post

timea day ago

  • South China Morning Post

For war-ravaged youth, education is an anchor amid chaos, not a luxury

Most global actors still treat education as an afterthought during crises, something to address only once food, water and shelter are secured. But in places like Palestine, Syria and Afghanistan, this hierarchy collapses. Education isn't a post-crisis luxury; it's the anchor in the chaos. Over the past decade, I've learned that education must be treated as a frontline intervention, restoring not only learning, but also safety, identity and hope. It's not just about classrooms. It's about systems that endure. This requires a different mindset, prioritising community-led design over one-size-fits-all frameworks, embedding psychosocial support structurally, trusting youth with leadership and planning for local ownership from the start. Education isn't what follows survival; it's how people survive. We don't need more tool kits, we need a mindset shift. Global actors must listen more, prescribe less and embrace complexity over metrics. Only then can we build education systems that endure when everything else collapses. In 2015, a few months after a war in Gaza, I entered a shelter that had been a bustling school. A boy, no older than 10, asked: 'When will the school come back?' I didn't have an answer. Since then, I've worked across some of the world's hardest-hit areas, in Palestine, Syria Lebanon and Afghanistan . These experiences challenged many assumptions that still shape global education policy. In the years that followed, we began to understand that restoring education in crisis zones wasn't only about reopening schools, it was also about building adaptable systems. Our work began to evolve beyond emergency. We developed scholarship programmes for marginalised and refugee youth, not as charity but as strategic, long-term investments in community resilience.

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