Why it's time we talked about the sex lives of humanitarians

When you introduce yourself at a party as a former humanitarian, people expect that your field experiences were shaped by witnessing suffering, violence and displacement. What they don't expect to hear is that your day-to-day management challenges also included arguments over what time your colleagues could watch porn in the common room, and negotiating how staff could get to and from a brothel. Yet it is often a reality of the job and it is time we talked about it.

Humanitarians have a right to a private life, and that includes a sexual life. However, the logistics and ethics of how this right is exercised are a headache for even the most seasoned logistician and security expert. The complications start with the confined living and working arrangements. When for security and cost reasons offices often double up as sleeping quarters, there is little space for privacy. In this environment sex and relationships become difficult and, particularly if relations sour, hugely disruptive for the wider team.

Some workers instead develop relationships with humanitarians from other organisations. This is not easy in high-risk environments, with curfews at sunset and work stretching late into the night. It usually means sleeping over in the shared housing of another organisation, which requires permission from security personnel in both houses. This isn't exactly a relaxing way to set up a first or second date.

Sex with local colleagues, who do not live in the organisation's compound, can sometimes be even more difficult, particularly when working in a conservative community. In many countries, sex outside marriage is frowned upon or considered a crime. It's not uncommon to to see local staff experience backlash from their families, communities and colleagues for their relationships with international humanitarians. Non-heterosexual relationships are even more difficult, with same-sex relations illegal in many countries. Gay and lesbian humanitarians often cannot, or are afraid to, speak up about their sexual orientation in front of local staff.

Paid sex with local sex workers avoids some of these issues, but clearly poses others. In addition to existing sex workers, crises and conflict often drive displaced women and men into sex work to survive. Exploiting this availability and paying for sex is a particularly morally fraught transaction for humanitarians, who are supposed to be there to help.

Whatever your opinion on the ethics of this, for some it remains part of the reality of life in the job. In conflict situations, where pickup bars and time are both scarce, humanitarians, peacekeepers, mercenaries, and sex workers all find themselves in the same place, trying to get their business done before curfew falls.

Even when the security situation is less critical, going out to find sex still raises practical and reputational challenges. In many countries, bars and discos have rooms available to rent for a short stay and are usually considered brothels by the local population. Making decisions on the best way for staff to visit brothels is a familiar dilemma for some humanitarian logistics managers. While providing the organisation's car ensures the driver is likely to get humanitarians home safely, having its logo on a jeep outside a brothel is hardly ideal for the organisation's reputation.

Discussing sex among humanitarian professionals is an important step in recognising the full picture of life in the field. Partly this is about acknowledging the impact that working in environments of crisis and conflict can have on humanitarians. Whether it entails alcohol, sex or otherwise, rare moments of escapism are often a response to emotional, and mental stress, not to mention working in physical, and often social, isolation.

It may feel uncomfortable to discuss, but if we are serious about the wellbeing and safety of our professionals it's time we had an honest discussion about sex. Addressing this is partly about better preparing humanitarians for the risk they can impose on themselves, and their mission, when seeking and having sex.

However, while an increasing number of humanitarian organisations have codes of conduct that explain what the boundaries are, and why these matter, our understanding of sex needs to go beyond reputation and physical safety. Many humanitarians respond in different ways to the isolation they experience and the suffering they witness. Some will struggle to pick up normal life again, and some may not return to the field at all. Being frank about the realities of sex needs to be part of a wider, honest and thoughtful conversation about what it is really like to be a humanitarian, and what organisations can do to better support their workers.

Pauline Oosterhoff is a research fellow and Elise Wach is an adviser at the Institute of Development Studies. Follow @IDS_UK on Twitter.

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