Ten Years On, Yemen’s Children Need Us Now More Than Ever

Working for over a decade in the humanitarian sector, I have always believed that with enough collective commitment and compassion, there is always a way to protect the most vulnerable children. But right now, we are witnessing something truly unprecedented in Yemen. The scale and nature of the humanitarian crisis in Yemen and the immense, multidimensional needs of its people, especially its children, has left me with an overwhelming sense of grief and loss. When I joined the team in Yemen over a year ago as Country Director,  I took on the role with a deep sense of responsibility and a hope that we could rebuild, strengthen, and reaffirm our ability to protect children from the kind of suffering I know all too well—suffering I witnessed firsthand in my home country, Syria. But now, I find myself in the heartbreaking position of having to implement the decision to shut down the very programmes that were meant to protect them in northern Yemen due to a combination of compounding challenges that have led to the closure of our operations in that part of the country. It is a moment that breaks my heart and puts my hope to the test.

Over the last year, I have seen the extreme vulnerability of families up close, which have been made significantly worse by foreign aid cuts. I’ve spoken to mothers forced to choose between treating one child and feeding another. I’ve met the family of a boy, just a year and a half old, who lost both legs in a mortar attack—before he ever had the chance to walk on them. Just two months after the monthly food rations were suspended due to limiting funding in the north of the country late 2023, our team met children who had dropped out of school to collect scrap metal, and pregnant forced to skip meals so they could feed their children, putting both their own health and their unborn babies’ lives at risk. 

Tens of thousands of children who once received food, medical care, and protection from violence will now be left to fend for themselves. Those are children who drop out of school to work or get married because their families can’t afford food and basic needs. Malnourished children whose early start in life is marked by hunger, stunted growth, and weakened immune systems, making them vulnerable to disease and death. And children, like Abdullah, a 16-year-old from Hodeidah, who lost his leg after stepping on a landmine while walking with his friends. Abdullah recalls, "I'm sad when I see children playing football while I'm stuck in a wheelchair." His father, however, was consumed by a different worry - how he would afford his son’s treatment. That burden should not fall on a parent or caregiver. It should fall on all of us.  

Last year alone, 106 children fell victim of explosive remnants of war, which have become the leading cause of child casualties in recent years. The same remnants that litter neighbourhoods where children play and continue to explode long after the headlines have faded. Our programmes give children the chance to heal, rebuild and hold onto hope. Our teams provide children like Abdullah with medical care, prepare them for prosthetics, and provide them with psychosocial support—but these very programmes and services are now under threat. 

The numbers are staggering. In 2025, the number of people in need in Yemen has risen to 19.5 million—more than half the population. That’s 1.3 million more people struggling to survive compared to last year. Among them are 10.8 million children, each facing a daily battle against hunger, conflict, and hardship. 10.8 million children’s futures are at stake.

The funding for Yemen's humanitarian response has steadily declined over the years. Despite this, humanitarian efforts are making a profound impact. In 2024, 197 aid organisations provided life-saving assistance and services to over 8 million people, at an average of just $191 per person. This modest sum, made possible by the collective contributions of dozens of countries and institutions from across the globe, was often the difference between survival and despair for millions.

A group of Yemeni children advocates recently shared their hopes for a future free of conflict and deprivation. Having endured attacks on their schools and studied in damaged classrooms, they told us one simple yet powerful demand: that their schools be spared from war and used for education alone. They called for the rehabilitation of the hundreds of schools destroyed or damaged across Yemen, knowing that education is their only path to a better future. It is devastating to think that, while they advocate and speak up for children's right to education, their very right to survive is at risk, as the systems meant to protect and support them are in danger of being dismantled. 

But global funding cuts mean that schools can’t be repaired, and these children cannot continue their education. It means that schools and health centres are being closed. The power of our collective humanitarian commitment is needed more than ever.

Humanitarian solidarity represents one of the brightest sides of humanity—something I have experienced firsthand, both as someone from a war-ravaged country and through my work as a humanitarian. I am so fortunate to get to spend my time in Yemen and come to know the Yemeni people—their deep-rooted traditions, generosity, hospitality, but also unwavering resilience. Yet, no amount of resilience can undo the damage caused by a decade of conflict. We must help them in the face of devastation.

In a world shaped by unpredictable political shifts, our commitment to upholding humanitarian principles should be the guiding force that directs our actions. In the case of children born into a conflict and in their greatest time of need, the choice couldn’t be clearer. They must be protected, supported, and seen. If we cannot agree on that—if we cannot uphold that most basic promise—then we must ask ourselves: what is left of our humanity?