Fatima Mamman-Daura
In 2008, the United Nations (UN) General Assembly designated today (August 19) as World Humanitarian Day (WHD) in honour of humanitarian personnel killed and injured in the course of their work, and to mobilise communities to advocate for humanitarian action. The day also marks the anniversary of the bombing of the UN headquarters in Baghdad, Iraq on 19th August 2003. A truck bomb had hit the Canal Hotel in Baghdad, killing 22 people including the UN’s top envoy in Iraq, Sergio Vieira de Mello, and wounding over 150 others. That attack was one of the deadliest on UN staff in history. It made clear how dangerous humanitarian work had become.
In 2011, Boko Haram attacked the UN main office in Nigeria’s capital, Abuja, killing 18 people and injuring dozens of others. In 2013, gunmen attacked polio vaccination teams in Kano. Nine female health workers were shot dead in cold blood. Their only ‘crime’ was trying to protect children from a preventable disease. In 2020, a convoy of aid workers left Maiduguri with food and medicine for families displaced by insurgency. Some were killed on the road. Others were abducted and spent months in captivity before being released.
Since 2016, Nigeria has lost dozens of humanitarian workers. Between 2018 and 2024 in Borno State, aid workers from UN agencies and Nigerian NGOs were ambushed, kidnapped, and executed along major roads. In March 2018, Boko Haram insurgents kidnapped Saifura Ahmed and Hauwa Liman, both employees of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). They were later executed in September and October 2018 respectively. In July 2019, a video emerged online of six aid workers in Nigeria abducted by suspected Boko Haram insurgents. In the video, a woman – an employee of the humanitarian relief agency Action Against Hunger, was seen pleading for herself and colleagues, who could be seen sitting around her. The six were abducted after an attack on their aid convoy while driving to Damasak in Borno State. Another driver was killed during the attack.
Meanwhile, many NGOs are pulling back from hard-to-reach areas. These are not just headlines. They are people loved by their families and friends – providers, nurturers and community leaders. They are young Nigerians who woke up to serve the most vulnerable communities and paid with their lives or freedom. Nigeria’s 2026 Humanitarian Needs and Response Plan (HNRP) estimates that 5.9 million people in Borno, Adamawa and Yobe States face severe to extreme needs and require humanitarian assistance. Humanitarian workers grapple with difficult conditions to provide lifesaving services to people in dire need. Attacking them is a war crime.
Today, as the world marks the WHD 2026, Nigeria must pause and ask: Are we doing enough to protect those who risk everything for our most beleaguered citizens? This year’s campaign focuses on three urgent items: Protecting humanitarian workers, Ending impunity, and Empowering local responders. To be sure, Nigeria has reason to mark both progress and peril. The progress is legal. The Deputy Speaker of the House of Representatives, Hon. Benjamin Kalu championed the domestication of the African Union Convention for the Protection and Assistance of Internally Displaced Persons; otherwise known as the Kampala Convention.
On 10th March 2026, President Bola Tinubu signed it into law and for the first time, Nigeria has a binding national framework that makes the protection of humanitarian workers an explicit state obligation. But the peril is on the ground. From Rann in Borno to Gusau in Zamfara, from Makurdi in Benue to Katsina town, humanitarian workers continue to be killed, kidnapped, injured and threatened while delivering food, health care, and shelter to millions. Each attack closes a clinic, stops a convoy, and leaves communities without help. As we observe WHD 2026 under the braod theme, Act for Humanity”, we must answer as a nation: Will we use the Kampala Convention to protect those who protect others?
Now part of the Nigerian law, it addresses three areas that have long been policy gaps. First, access. Article 5(7) obliges the government to ensure rapid and unimpeded access for humanitarian organisations to people in need. This speaks directly to the delays at checkpoints, bureaucratic processes, and restrictions that delay the delivery of life-saving aid for weeks, particularly in the North-East and North-West. Second, safety and security. Article 5(10) requires the State to guarantee the safety and security of humanitarian personnel, facilities, and assets. Article 5(11) extends that duty to armed groups operating within our territory.
For the first time, attacks on humanitarian workers are not just criminal acts — they are violations of a specific international and domestic obligation to investigate and prosecute. Third, recognition of local responders. The Convention explicitly recognises national NGOs, community volunteers, and civil society as humanitarian actors. This is critical in Nigeria, where over 70% of frontline delivery is done by Nigerians serving in their own communities, often with the least insurance, training, or protection.
This is what global solidarity looks like in legal form. A law, however, does not stop a bullet. Four gaps must be closed moving forward, if this domestication is to mean anything to a midwife in Borno or a volunteer in Katsina. One, state-level operationalisation. The Federal Act must be replicated in all 36 states and the FCT, with clear operational frameworks for State Emergency Management Agencies, security agencies, and local government leadership. Presently, “unimpeded access” is still negotiated at every roadblock. Without state laws and budgets, the Convention remains an “Abuja document.” Two, accountability and impunity. While the Nigerian military responds with kinetic operations and neutralising threats, too few attacks on humanitarian workers have led to prosecution. The abduction of health staff, ambushes of aid convoys, and targeting of community volunteers continue with limited legal consequence. Impunity signals to perpetrators that aid workers are soft targets. The Kampala Convention requires investigation — Nigeria must now deliver it.
Three, protection for local responders. National staff and volunteers bear the greatest risk but receive the least support. The majority lack insurance, security training, psychosocial services, or protection and legal aid when threatened. If we are serious about “empowering local communities,” we must resource the people from those communities who are first to respond and last to leave. Four, preserving humanitarian space. Inflexible donor funding, harassment of humanitarian workers, and the militarization of aid delivery restrict operations. The law mandates facilitation and cooperation. Security and humanitarian actors must now agree on standard notification and access protocols that respect both safety and neutrality.
The WHD 2026 cannot only be commemoration. It must be a call to action. To honour both the Law and the workers, the Federal Government and partners should take four immediate steps: First, fast-track state domestication. The National Humanitarian Coordination Committee should work with State Governors to adopt the Kampala Convention domestically, with dedicated budget lines for IDP protection and worker safety. Second, establish accountability mechanisms. The police, DSS, and judiciary should create dedicated desks to investigate attacks on humanitarian personnel. Annual public reporting on incidents and prosecutions will build trust and deter future attacks. Third, invest in local responder support. The three tiers of government, the UN and other partners including the private sector must fund insurance, safety training, and mental health support for local NGOs and volunteers. They must also be given seats and a voice at coordination tables where decisions about their safety are made. Fourth, enforce safe access. The military and humanitarian community should finalise and implement standardised procedures for convoy movement, humanitarian notification, and rapid response when workers are threatened.
Nigeria consistently remains in the top five countries globally for attacks on humanitarian workers. The measure of success in 2026 and beyond, will not be found in speeches or press releases. It will be found in simpler things. Can an ambulance reach a clinic in Marte without fear? Can a food distribution in Batsari proceed without attack? Can a community volunteer in Sabon Birni return home to his family after serving his neighbours?
The Kampala Convention gives Nigeria the legal tool. World Humanitarian Day gives us the moral moment. When we protect humanitarian workers, we protect the millions of Nigerians who depend on them. It is time to move from law to safety. It is time to move from policy on paper to protection on the ground. In honour of Saifura Ahmed Khorsa, Hauwa Liman, Alice Loksha Ngaddah, Grace Taku, Dr. Lawrence Duna, Faye Mooney and dozens of other humanitarian workers killed, abducted or injured in Nigeria.
•Ms. Mamman-Daura, a humanitarian worker and public policy expert, writes from The National Institute, Kuru.