After the Sept. 11 attacks, President George W. Bush tasked the late Assistant Secretary Gene Dewey and me with rebuilding the United States refugee admissions program. By 2001 and 2002, admissions had fallen to their lowest levels since the Vietnam War.
In the wake of the attacks, we redesigned the refugee admissions program to reach those in immediate danger while strengthening security protocols to protect the American people. At the time, many questioned whether refugee resettlement still served U.S. security or economic interests. But, even in that moment of crisis, the administration did not dismantle the program or abandon foreign assistance. We recognized that protecting human dignity is not separate from national security — it is part of it.
The refugee admissions program became one of the most secure and carefully vetted pathways into the country, demonstrating that the United States could uphold both safety and compassion at the same time.
I saw how that approach strengthened not only the lives of those seeking refuge, but also the communities that welcomed them. Foreign assistance and the strategic use of resettlement helped stabilize regions, support allies and reduce the pressures that forced people to flee and — in some cases — created conditions for refugees to return home safely. We rebuilt the program with those goals in mind, strengthening its safeguards while preserving its humanitarian mission.
That contrast makes what happened last year all the more striking and devastating. On the first day of his second presidential term, President Donald Trump signed an executive order halting refugee admissions, effectively dismantling much of the system that has helped define the United States’ humanitarian leadership for decades. This refugee admissions lifeline reflected something deeper about the country itself, a belief in offering refuge to those “yearning to breathe free.”
The Jan. 24, 2025, suspension of life-saving aid was immediately lethal, not only for humanitarian operations abroad, but for how the United States understands its role in the world. For my organization, the Jesuit Refugee Service, or JRS, the impact was immediate.
Overnight, we were ordered to halt programs funded by the federal government. We turned to our donors and, through their generosity, were able to keep nine State Department-funded programs running during the 90-day stop-work order. Today, seven of those have been shut down.
These were community-based programs designed to help refugees and internally displaced people build stable lives where they are. They provided education, including academic instruction, nutrition and mental health support, along with livelihood initiatives that created pathways to dignified work. Many of these efforts were deemed “not aligned with U.S. interests.”
In Chad, for example, Jesuit Refugee Service was designated the U.N. lead for refugee education and operated 21 secondary schools in refugee camps serving Sudanese students. Today, those schools can no longer continue.
Across the world, humanitarian organizations have been forced to scale back or cease operations. The consequences are severe. A recent analysis published in The Lancet estimates that current funding cuts could lead to more than 14 million additional deaths over the next five years, including 4.5 million children under the age of 5.
As a faith-based organization grounded in the teachings of Jesus, Jesuit Refugee Service refuses to remain silent in the face of that loss. We remain committed to accompanying, serving and advocating for people who have been forcibly displaced. Even as resources shrink, we are focusing our efforts where they are most urgently needed.
The need is immense. Today, more than 123 million people worldwide have been forced from their homes — the highest number on record — and it continues to rise as conflict and instability spread across the Middle East and parts of Africa.
In Lebanon, where more than 1 million people have already been displaced since March, JRS is often among the few organizations still present. As violence escalates, our teams have provided shelter and essential support to thousands of families, along with spaces for community and worship.
When the United States withdraws from humanitarian leadership, the consequences do not disappear. They are shifted onto those least able to bear them, displaced families, overstretched aid groups and fragile communities already living on the edge.
As some governments, including ours, retreat from humanitarian commitments, others have stepped forward. Faith communities, in particular, have filled gaps left behind. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints offers one shining example. In 2025, the church reported more than $1.5 billion in humanitarian spending, a figure that does not capture the scale of volunteer efforts, families opening their homes and communities helping refugees find stability in a new country.
Jesuit Refugee Service has long partnered with the Church of Jesus Christ on issues of displacement and education. At a time when governments and even some nonprofit institutions are pulling back, these partnerships matter more than ever.
Together, we can do more to fill the gaps, protect vulnerable families, and ensure that children and mothers are not left behind. But faith-based efforts cannot match the scale, coordination or long-term stability that public institutions provide. They were never meant to carry this burden alone. That is why JRS continues to advocate for strong refugee admissions and sustained humanitarian support.
In the aftermath of the Sept. 11 attacks, we watched horror unfold on our television screens. We saw people fleeing through dust-filled streets in New York City, confusion and fear everywhere. But even in that moment, we saw something else. We saw Americans refuse to abandon one another. People stepped forward to help, to serve and to carry each other through the crisis.
In the years that followed, we rebuilt not only our cities but also our immigration and refugee systems. We proved that it was possible to protect national security while still honoring our commitment to those seeking refuge.
I am deeply grateful for this same spirit today, especially in the many Latter-day Saint families who have welcomed refugees into their communities, including in Utah and Idaho. Their actions, grounded in their devotion to faith, also reflect something unique about what it means to be an American. They speak to a shared commitment to human dignity, to faith in action, and to the enduring belief in what it means to be American.