Feeding the body and feeding the mind are not as separate as you might think. At least, not in a war zone or after a natural disaster. When you are the boots on the ground in the middle of a catastrophe, you learn far more than you can from a distance. There is no substitute for being present when the voiceless need the outside world to show up.
People often ask me how an organisation like World Central Kitchen (WCK) can produce and deliver so many millions of meals so quickly in places such as Ukraine or Gaza. The answer is not rocket science, at least not to those of us who feed people for a living: we tap into the local food networks that already exist, building on what is already there. Those networks tell you stories. They feed you intelligence as you feed other people. More often than not, that intelligence is more insightful and up to date than the information government officials rely on.
We saw that first-hand in Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria in 2017, when the federal government, under Donald Trump, believed the islands were overrun by lawlessness. They sent heavily armed law enforcement agents from Homeland Security Investigations to explore and secure the territory. We convinced their officers to hand out sandwiches when they approached Puerto Ricans. The agents were surprised to find they learned more about the real state of the islands when they tried feeding people, rather than scaring them.
We experienced something similar in Ukraine when Russian forces invaded in 2022. Ukrainians are nothing if not resourceful and courageous – and they’ve also built one of the most productive food economies in the world. As Russia attacked, Ukrainians needed feeding. Yet while farmers in the country were not short of food, their supply lines were disrupted. But one form of transport endured amid all the bombs and gunfire: the railways.
Brave and skilful workers repaired the tracks and trains to keep the country moving and its people fed. Few people outside Ukraine knew about the importance of the railway network, or even had a copy of its maps – unless you knew people who relied on it to move their grain and crops. Intelligence and transport are vital to our feeding operations.
Perhaps the most important ingredient for an operation such as ours, however, is something you cannot fake as you build trust with those who are suffering: empathy. People in need do not want our pity; they want our respect. They know that a plate of food is not just something to stop the pangs of hunger; it is a plate of hope. It is a statement that someone cares for you as a fellow human being. Those statements are all the more important amid the horrors of war, when people seem to forget our shared humanity.
When Hamas terrorists brutalised and murdered Israelis on 7 October, WCK began feeding displaced families in Israel. When Israeli forces destroyed much of Gaza, killing civilians indiscriminately – as well as humanitarian workers and journalists – we began feeding Palestinian families who had nowhere to escape to.
People on both sides of this horrific war wanted us to choose sides. They have not been shy about questioning our motives or loyalties for providing 2m meals in Israel, or more than 70 m meals in Gaza. But in war, there is only one side we will ever choose. We are on the side of feeding people. We are on the side of sharing our humanity as we share our food.
It has been a challenging and painful journey, even as we have delivered many millions of plates of hope. The senseless Israeli airstrikes that killed seven of our WCK family on 1 April are wounds that will never fully heal. Saif Abutaha, John Chapman, Jacob Flickinger, Zomi Frankcom, Jim Henderson, James Kirby and Damian Sobol – they risked everything to feed people they did not know, and would never meet.
In the worst of conditions, the best of humanity shows up. They were the best of humanity. Their deaths thrust our work into a spotlight we did not seek.
We still have many unanswered questions about what happened and why. Reporters have been banned from entering Gaza, leaving a small number of Palestinian and citizen journalists to take incredible risks to report on the humanitarian crisis. We at WCK have demanded that the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) allow journalists to accompany aid workers in Gaza, to shine a light not just on our work but on the desperate humanitarian needs that are so widespread across the war zone.
After the horrific deaths of our colleagues, there was an unusually public debate in Israel about military discipline and the civilian crisis in Gaza. It was deeply troubling to see that the tragedy prompted more Israeli soul-searching about the humanitarian needs in Gaza than the tens of thousands of civilian deaths and near-famine conditions. But when news breaks through the barriers of hatred and distrust, empathy can start to grow.
On my travels to Israel, Gaza and the wider region, I have been surprised by the common ground that exists between nationalities and religions that appear – at least to outsiders – to be so determined to sustain the conflict. We need longer tables to share our food and our stories, not higher walls to keep us apart.
A plate of food cannot stop a war or end the climate crisis. But it can be the first step to bringing us closer together as we start to address the world’s biggest challenges.
José Andrés is the founder of the food aid charity World Central Kitchen, and a Michelin-starred chef. This article is the foreword to the The Bedside Guardian 2024, edited by Clare Longrigg (Guardian Books, £16.99). To support The Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
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