He was not alone. Many other young doctors like him were eager to do something more than treat patients in clinics all day. The timing of MSF’s establishment is a crucial part of understanding why it, and other humanitarian organisations of its kind, was so well received — Europe was emerging from an ugly, beleaguered past and ready to become a global source of comfort. Rufin explains this point beautifully. “For centuries, Europe was the place where there were wars, famines and epidemics. It was only late in the 20th century that Europe started to be at peace, rich and protected, and started to become generous. Before that, after two wars, we were only receiving aid, but after the 1960s, we could start to give as well. Most people involved in associations like MSF had been political activists and, at the end of the Cold War, felt deceived by their own political ideals. So, humanitarian action was like ground zero, or level zero, of what they could do without political involvement. The Cold War did not permit institutions dependent on public funds — like Red Cross — to provide aid. There was a possibility to be useful at the time and so a very small organisation became very large because they were responding to what was then a new world situation.”
In Kier, South Sudan, MSF nurse and midwife Furaha Bazikanya examines a young pregnant woman in one of the two consultation spaces at a mobile clinic in the village
Throughout the 1970s, MSF was kept extremely busy. In 1972, it arrived in Nicaragua, which was hit by an earthquake, and then two years later, in Honduras to help those displaced by Hurricane Fifi. From 1975, after South Vietnam had fallen to North Vietnam, MSF’s refugee camps in Thailand supported Cambodians escaping the Khmer Rouge. Starting from 1976, MSF spent nine years assisting surgeries in the hospitals of various cities during the Lebanese Civil War, and established a reputation for its neutrality and willingness to work under fire while helping Christian and Muslim soldiers alike.
“There was a kind of exhaustion at the end of the century, which was when MSF was founded,” Rufin says. “It was the idea to say, ‘We can cure without trying to create new problems.’ There was a surge to find a common ground without getting overly political about everything.”
In the late 1970s, MSF underwent a change in leadership that also reflected the growing differences of opinions within the ranks. While Kouchner believed that documenting and broadcasting the suffering in a particular country was the most effective way to solve a problem, incoming president Claude Malhuret felt that MSF should avoid criticism of the governments of countries in which they were working. Debates raged over the future of the organisation, and those who disagreed with the new leadership opted to leave MSF. “These associations were very personal in the sense that the people who are involved were invested personally — it’s something in which you believe with all your being. In this sort of circumstance, people tend to disagree and quarrel. Plus, we are French, and maybe that doesn’t help,” Rufin laughs. His oldest child had been born by this time, and he was splitting his time between his own private practice and his voluntary work with MSF — it was time to do something else. And so he did, which includes the time he spent as a diplomat and his groundbreaking work with the Rufin report. Although he wrote it in 2003, he believes that his once-unheard-of observations of the rise of anti-Semitism in France continue to hold water today. “When there was anti-Semitic activity, we were always accusing the extreme right, who, of course, could be responsible,” he shares. “But there was another anti-Semitic sentiment that was growing at the time, which comes from young, second-generation immigrants. They are instrumentalised by the extreme left, and you cannot combat anti-Semitism by looking only at the extreme right. Most of the action now is done by the young people from the suburbs of Paris, and they come from North Africa — they have nothing to do with the extreme right! When I said this at the time, it was a very touchy matter. And I think this is truer today than ever. If we keep looking at the far right, we are ignoring the sentiment that comes from the other side.” Protected by the “relative” safety afforded to us by virtue of being in the French ambassador’s residence, we briefly talk about how this rule could very well apply just as well in Malaysia. Have we all been looking the wrong way in tackling systemic racism? Worth a think, we say. Although he has been courted multiple times to stage a return to politics, Rufin has refused, stating that this part of his life is over and he no longer wishes to be a part of it. He rarely even discusses the contents of the report anymore, refusing to be defined by it. “You can spend your life on this topic; I don’t want that. It’s not my whole life — just relevant to a part of my life,” he states. Fair enough. ‘Doctor who writes’
These days, his passion for the written word keeps him most occupied. Rufin’s past as a doctor actively colours his present in a most unique way, I discover. “When I started to write novels — which is more than 20 years ago — my problem was that, as a physician, writing fiction was difficult. When you take the Hippocratic Oath, you swear that you will see everything, know everything, but you can never talk about it. So, when you start writing, you look at things in your memory and you start to think how you can use them without breaking your oath. Speaking and writing about the present is a huge problem for someone with this background, so my first novel was based on the past. I changed contexts and time periods so I could be open and honest, but without breaking my oath.” I ask whether he would ever return to practising medicine one day, and he admits that he misses it, although a return to MSF is highly unlikely. He has, however, watched the organisation grow with much pride, although he admits that it has not quite evolved fast enough for the change of tides its birthplace of Europe has been experiencing of late. “Europe was for a long time consumed directly by war and, for 50 years, there was a kind of blessed period in which the continent has been at peace and able to help the rest of the world. Organisations like MSF were very relevant at this point. Since 2010, terrorism has come back to Europe; refugees have started to come back to Europe — the problems are no more far away, but right next door,” he says thoughtfully. “These organisations have been created to act in remote countries, and yet today, the issues are in our own homes. For that, they have not adapted very well. They are important in their fields, of course, but their time has passed in a way. “Public opinion is less interested in something happening far away. When you advertise about sending funds to the Rohingyas, people will go down to the street and see refugees right in front of them. So, what’s more important is in their own communities, their own lives. I think we are facing a humanitarian crisis at this moment.” It sounds like MSF could still use perspectives like his. He laughs, shaking his head. “I still list my profession as doctor; I think you can have different experiences in your life, but you can be trained professionally in only one thing. I don’t know if at my age I can train to be a pilot or a racing car driver, and then actually go and race cars... What you train to be when you are 20 is who you will always be. I’m a doctor with different experiences, even as a diplomat. Now, I am a doctor who writes books, but who knows what will happen after this?” Rufin sets a great example of someone who has never let his professional training get in the way of his life’s calling — what you do with your existence on earth is limited only by your own beliefs, so it feels like the lesson here is to be open to opportunities when they come knocking and have faith in the decisions you make along the way. Anandhi Gopinath is an assistant editor of the Options desk at The Edge Malaysia
