International president of Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) from 2013 to 2019, pediatrician at Sainte-Justine Hospital in Montreal, Joanne Liu is an emblematic figure in the humanitarian world. On the occasion of the release of her book, Ebola, bombs and migrants, she answered La Converse's questions and took an uncompromising look at Quebec, Canadian and international society. Interview.
Joanne Liu is not the type to try to draw attention to herself. She devoted her life to others, first by becoming a doctor and then by engaging in humanitarian work with the non-governmental organization Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), of which she would eventually become president. True to herself, she arrives discreetly at the offices of La Converse, where we await her with three members of École Converse: Firas, Aya and Cindy.
Running shoes on, down jacket on her back, rectangular glasses on her nose, Joanne Liu always seems ready to respond to a medical emergency. Her calm and warm smile do not reveal anything that her memory can tell of the tragedies observed around the world.
A pedagogue, the pediatrician pays attention to each word she says. We wanted to learn more about the Quebec woman of Chinese origin, the humanitarian who delivers a denunciatory discourse, the Joanne Liu who managed to make a place for herself in this society against all odds. She does not brag about it, but she is one of the few Quebec women to have found herself in the Time 100, the famous ranking of the most influential personalities in the world published each year in the magazine Time.
La Converse: You recently collaborated on a play called Nos Cassandra, inspired by your life. What link do you establish between your career and the myth of Cassandra?
Joanne Liu: Nos Cassandra explores the concept of predicting crises without anyone listening. This is a bit what I experienced at Médecins Sans Frontières. During the Ebola epidemic in 2014, we alerted everyone to the seriousness of the situation. We predicted that the crisis would explode if nothing was done, but unfortunately no one took this seriously at the time. It's Cassandra's ordeal: to see what will happen, but not to be able to change the course of things.
In December 2024, you published Ebola, bombs and migrants, a book in which you talk about the loss of a large part of our “common humanity” in the face of global crises...
My point about common humanity is to go back to basics: every life counts. Today, we have the impression that some lives, depending on their location on the globe, do not have the same value. If you don't recognize the humanity in the other, you don't recognize your own humanity. This is clearly seen with migration crises and international conflicts, especially in the Middle East. This reality pushes me to challenge people about the urgency of maintaining our common humanity.
Within MSF, how did you manage conflicts between humanitarian action and international politics?
Managing conflicts between humanitarian action and international politics means understanding that states do not have friends, but interests, as Charles de Gaulle said. When the Ebola epidemic hit West Africa, I saw an icy indifference. My master's director advised me to “change the narrative”. I then reformulated: “It is still surprising that there are people who die from a devastating disease, a hemorrhagic fever in West Africa, and that today, the only entity capable of responding is an independent organization, and not the nations themselves." This change in wording had the desired effect; they started to think: "If it happened at home, would we be ready?" This led to concrete actions, in particular the establishment of laboratories where specimens could be analyzed.
In your opinion, is Canada meeting its international humanitarian obligations?
The short answer is no. Canada gives priority to its citizens, which is normal: that is why a government is elected. However, international actions often become a “bonus” or a secondary issue because they don't earn votes.
Today, the Canadian government has lost a lot of feathers. Although we are a G7 country, we are not doing everything that we could do. Countries of similar size, such as Norway or Oman, have been able to play an international mediating role. Canada could have played this role in the Americas, but it would have required political courage and investment in international diplomacy, two things that are currently lacking.
What is your view on the evolution of political discourse in Quebec on the subject of immigration?
As a humanitarian, I think it has no place, to have political leaders who dehumanize populations, whether they are newcomers or other communities. It's a dangerous slip up. I think we have to rise above that. However, these populations are portrayed as the source of all our ills: the housing crisis, problems accessing health care and even unemployment. They become the scapegoat for our bad life and are perceived as a threat to our cultural identity.
Migration must be regulated in an orderly and humane manner, as stipulated in the Global Compact on Migration, adopted in 2018. But to do so, we must be able to discuss these issues with maturity and humanity.
History shows that dehumanization is often the first step towards abuse: in Rwanda, people were called “cockroaches.” Then, once you dehumanize them, you can commit abuses against them. Every person has the right to dignity, safety and access to care.
Some people see openness to immigrants as a threat to social cohesion and to Quebec's economy. What do you think?
In many regions, here and elsewhere, migrants seem to be the ideal scapegoats. But this is not a new tactic: it has been done in the past with different communities.
These are not so much misconceptions as a way of building the narrative around migrants. The numbers show that in Canada, we have never welcomed so many temporary migrants. This creates an imbalance in relation to permanent migrants, but it is not a subject that is treated with neutrality.
I think that when people already feel they are struggling — for example, that they are unable to make ends meet or to feed their children properly — it becomes difficult for them to show solidarity with others who arrive in precarious conditions. It is a systemic problem.
What is lacking is an impartial and balanced discourse, supported by influential institutions such as the media, education and politics. It is precisely the role of the media, educators, policy makers, and opinion leaders to raise the debate. However, these spheres often seem to use the subject of immigration for personal or electoral capital purposes. This prevents genuine substantive debate, and that is deeply regrettable.
There are controversies when some denounce a form of racial discrimination in society. Why do you think it is so difficult to talk about racism in Quebec?
I think it encourages introspection, to examine whether, consciously or unconsciously, we lacked discernment at some point. Personally, as a member of a visible minority, I have faced everyday racism throughout my life. When you are a child, for example, you cannot bear the difference. As it grows, this discomfort may persist.
I wouldn't say it's always about racism, but it's often about a difficulty in accepting difference. Today, we live in a time where difference is often perceived as a confrontation, which leads to discomfort. The problem is that as soon as you say certain terms like “systemic racism,” people get angry and tense. This makes it nearly impossible to have open and constructive conversations.
That is why, for my part, I prefer to talk about tolerance rather than difference. How can we embrace this difference and include it in our collective heritage? In my opinion, this is the key to a peaceful and rewarding conversation.
“In Gaza, similar to what is happening in Ukraine, hospitals continue to be targeted, and the international community still seems powerless. This is a glaring example of the impunity enjoyed by some powers, and of the failure to protect civilians in times of war.”
You have done a lot of work in Africa. How did you deal with humanitarian crises as president of MSF and as a doctor?
Ebola, attacks on hospitals — like the one in Kunduz, Afghanistan — and the migration crisis changed my vision of humanitarian challenges. After 9/11, for example, the obsession with security profoundly affected international solidarity. These crises taught me that there is no guide to dealing with them, but that MSF always finds ways to act, even in the most extreme conditions. It is a daily learning experience.
The American attack on the hospital in Kunduz, Afghanistan, in 2015 marked your term in office. Do you see any parallels with the situation in Gaza?
The Kunduz attack was a completely senseless act. The hospital was clearly identified, and its contact information was shared with military forces, including the United States. However, it was bombed several times, killing 42 people, including 14 of our colleagues. We alerted the authorities, but nothing stopped the attack.
In Gaza, similar to what is happening in Ukraine, hospitals continue to be targeted, and the international community still seems powerless. This is a glaring example of the impunity enjoyed by some powers, and of the failure to protect civilians in times of war.
Faced with these violations of humanitarian law, what is the international community doing?
The international system is paralyzed. Because of the right of veto, the United Nations Security Council has become a tool of inertia. As long as the major powers are not directly involved, it is difficult to elicit a collective response.
But it is crucial to continue to denounce these violations and to defend the principles of humanitarian law. Even if it seems useless at times, you have to keep up the pressure. For example, after the Kunduz attack, we supported UN resolution 2286 to protect humanitarian missions, but these resolutions are all too often ignored.
You also experienced the Ebola crisis up close. Why was the response so slow?
With Ebola, it took the WHO a long time to recognize the emergency. The affected countries acted fairly quickly, but the international community did not react for several months. They had to fight alone. It wasn't until the virus arrived in the United States that things finally moved.
On the other hand, for COVID-19, rich countries were able to mobilize resources quickly to protect their populations. This contrast shows how the concerns of countries in the North often dominate the management of global crises, to the detriment of the most vulnerable countries.