USAID’s withdrawal should push Nigeria to build own humanitarian systems

The sudden suspension of USAID-funded programs around the world has created a humanitarian vacuum with consequences that reach far beyond countries borders. In Yobe State, Nigeria more than 50,000 vulnerable people including 26,400 out-of-school children, 13,308 orphans, and 127 survivors of gender-based violence have been cut off from essential services. Health interventions for 30,000 individuals […]

The sudden suspension of USAID-funded programs around the world has created a humanitarian vacuum with consequences that reach far beyond countries borders. In Yobe State, Nigeria more than 50,000 vulnerable people including 26,400 out-of-school children, 13,308 orphans, and 127 survivors of gender-based violence have been cut off from essential services. Health interventions for 30,000 individuals are disrupted, cash assistance for 5,704 households has ended, and water and sanitation programmes serving 5,000 people have stopped. What took years to build has been dismantled in days, not because of local policy decisions but due to a single order issued thousands of miles away in Washington, D.C.

This is the sharp edge of geopolitical reality. For decades, Nigerians have relied heavily on international donors to fund basic health care, education, nutrition, and protection services. USAID, once the world’s largest foreign aid agency, has been central to that support. Between 2001 and 2024, USAID disbursed an average of $23 billion annually, with programmes credited for preventing over 91 million deaths worldwide. Nigeria, particularly states like Adamawa,  Borno and Yobe popularly known in the humanitarian context as BAY states benefited immensely.

That era is ending with the coming of Trump 2.0. The Trump administration has already terminated 83 per cent of USAID projects and announced that the agency’s functions are being absorbed into the U.S. State Department. While Congress has not formally dissolved it, USAID is effectively defunct.

The question for Nigeria is straightforward, what now? We can react with anger and blame, or we can treat this as a moment of reckoning. Why, 64 years after independence, are critical public services in an entire state so vulnerable to foreign policy changes beyond our control? Why do routine vaccinations, school enrollments, and basic protection programmes collapse the moment donor funding stops? The truth is uncomfortable but unavoidable. We have outsourced too much of our social safety net to external actors, and now the bill has come due.

Governor Mai Mala Buni’s of Yobe’s directive to analyze gaps and protect humanitarian gains is a welcome start, but analysis alone will not stop children from dropping out of school or prevent disease outbreaks in overcrowded IDP camps. Yobe and Nigeria as a whole must act quickly and decisively to prevent a humanitarian backslide.

States like Yobe must be willing to reallocate their budgets toward essential health, education, and protection programmes even if it means delaying visible but less urgent infrastructure projects. The federal government must also play its part by activating emergency funds, scaling up national social protection schemes, and prioritizing support for the states most affected by the aid withdrawal.

But financing alone is not enough. For years, local NGOs and community-based organizations have been implementers rather than leaders, executing donor-designed projects without building the institutional strength to sustain them independently. This must change. Local actors need the resources, training, and authority to run critical programs without waiting for foreign partners to return.

Diversification is equally important. Nigeria’s development and humanitarian partnerships must extend beyond traditional Western donors. Opportunities exist with African regional funds, the Islamic Development Bank, and private philanthropies. Domestic private-sector players can also help sustain essential services, particularly in areas like water supply, nutrition, and low-cost education.

Most importantly, this moment demands a national conversation about resilience. The data emerging from Yobe State Emergency Management Agency (SEMA) shows thousands of people in Damaturu, Yusufari, Potiskum, and Fika abruptly losing access to basic services are not just advocacy tools. They are a warning. If Nigeria continues to rely on international agencies as the backbone of its humanitarian response, we will face repeated crises every time global politics shifts.

USAID’s withdrawal was not a choice made by Yobe or Nigeria, but our response to it is entirely within our control. We can treat this as just another short-term emergency, scrambling to patch the gaps until another donor steps in, or we can recognize it as a historic turning point. If Yobe and by extension Nigeria uses this moment to finally invest in homegrown, sustainable systems, we may not only protect today’s vulnerable populations but also secure a stronger, more independent future.

 

Zanna Samaila is a Governance and Accountability Advocate he writes from Damaturu.