In the windswept IDP camps of Tigray, hollowed eyes stare across makeshift shelters. Once vibrant communities, now reduced to fragments of survival, are being slowly erased—not by bombs or bullets, but by a quieter weapon: neglect. The genocidal war in Tigray may have largely subsided, but a deeper crisis remains. It is a crisis not of war but of abandonment—shaped in part by policy decisions made thousands of miles away.
One of the most devastating has been the Trump-era aid cuts that severed the lifeline millions depended upon.
A Region Uprooted
To understand the scale of suffering in Tigray, one must begin with the genocidal war that ignited it. In late 2020, genocidal war erupted. What followed was a scorched-earth campaign that displaced over 2.4 million people, leveled towns, and fractured communities.
Entire families fled overnight, taking only what they could carry. Schools became shelters. Churches became morgues. And for many, the only hope for survival lay in humanitarian corridors supported by international agencies—many of which were funded by the United States.
The Cut That Broke the Lifeline
Although there was a ceasefire, the humanitarian emergency continued. In the midst of this humanitarian emergency, the Trump administration froze or redirected major U.S. aid programs to Ethiopia. This affected not just development projects and government funding, but also humanitarian operations.
The reality on the ground soon became apparent. Warehouses filled with U.S.-donated grain sat locked. Transport contracts lapsed. Local NGOs were paralyzed by the lack of funds to distribute food. Even where food was available, the means to get it to people had vanished.
In one of the largest displacement camps near Mekele, food distributions that once offered 15 kilograms of grain per person per month shrank to 9—and in some cases, stopped altogether. Parents began skipping meals. Children showed signs of acute malnutrition. Elderly residents died quietly in their tents.
A Fragile Health System Collapses
The withdrawal of aid didn’t just stop at food. For years, U.S.-funded programs had supported a patchwork of clinics offering basic and life-saving health services. These included maternal health, malaria prevention, and antiretroviral treatment for HIV patients.
With the funding gone, many of these clinics shuttered. Others remained open in name only—devoid of medicine, staff, or electricity. Women gave birth in tents. Infections went untreated. Vaccine programs halted, raising fears of resurgent outbreaks in already overcrowded camps.
Mental health services, which had just begun to take root after years of trauma, were similarly abandoned. The survivors of rape, torture, and displacement—already struggling to find footing—found themselves with no support. Programs offering trauma counseling, prosthetics for amputees, and social reintegration efforts disappeared overnight.
The Ghost of Diplomacy
What makes the Tigray situation particularly painful is the sense that this suffering was not merely the consequence of war, but of choice.
When the aid freeze was enacted, it sent shockwaves through international organizations and Tigrayan civil society alike. Critics argued that cutting humanitarian funding during an active emergency was a disproportionate response—akin to pulling the fire brigade away from a burning house.
What followed was predictable: starvation, untreated illness, and deepening resentment toward foreign powers. Aid workers now describe Tigray as a case study in how geopolitics can directly and fatally impact humanitarian outcomes.
A Systemic Failure with a Human Face
It is easy to be numbed by numbers: 2.4 million displaced, over 10 million food-insecure, and 650,000 children and mothers without nutrition support. But behind every statistic is a name, a story, and a silence.
Like Meseret, a young mother of three who buried her newborn after days without formula. Or Dawit, a former schoolteacher who lost a leg during the genocidal war and can no longer access physical therapy. Or the countless children now growing up in a world where aid was once a lifeline—and is now a memory.
This is not simply a regional tragedy. It is a global failure of moral imagination.
A Call for Reengagement
Today, as the Trump administration attempts to recalibrate America’s foreign policy in Africa, the situation in Tigray stands as a haunting reminder of the cost of disengagement. Aid, while not a cure-all, serves as a buffer against collapse. When that buffer is removed, the descent is swift and brutal.
What is needed now is not just the restoration of funding, but the rebuilding of trust—between governments, agencies, and, most importantly, the people. The humanitarian mission must be re-centered on those it was designed to protect, free from the fluctuations of political tides.
The Politics of Hunger
Tigray’s displaced are not hungry by accident. They are not sick because of bad luck. They are starving because a system built to protect them was unplugged for political reasons. And while the war may have made them victims, it was the aid cuts that made them expendable.
And unless there is a swift, decisive return to principled humanitarian action, they may fall further still—into a silence the world cannot afford.
