Nigeria’s forgotten humanitarian crisis driven by spreading violence

The kidnapping of schoolchildren, coordinated attacks on entire villages, and the abduction of worshippers from churches and mosques have thrust Nigeria back into the global spotlight in recent months. This surge in violence took on a new geopolitical dimension when the United States launched airstrikes on jihadist positions in northern Nigeria on Christmas Day—an operation framed by Washington as necessary to protect Christian communities under threat.

A closer examination of the situation reveals a far more complex picture than selective headlines suggest. While attacks targeting religious sites have dominated international coverage, United Nations officials caution against oversimplifying the crisis. According to Mohamed Malik Fall, UN Coordinator for Humanitarian Affairs in Nigeria, the violence transcends religious persecution and has evolved into a nationwide security catastrophe.

From Boko Haram to widespread insecurity: a conflict that refuses to end

The roots of Nigeria’s turmoil trace back to 2009, when the jihadist group Boko Haram launched an insurgency in the northeast. Nearly 15 years later, this conflict has metastasized, spawning splinter factions including the Islamic State’s West Africa Province (ISWAP). The consequences have been devastating: over 40,000 lives lost, more than 2 million people displaced, thousands of schools and healthcare facilities destroyed, and vast agricultural lands rendered inaccessible.

‘An entire generation has grown up in displacement camps, knowing nothing but life behind barbed wire,’ Fall emphasizes. He adds that communities are not only losing their homes but also their livelihoods, pushing millions into extreme poverty and stripping them of their fundamental dignity.

Banditry, farmer-herder clashes, and separatist tensions

Beyond the jihadist insurgency, Nigeria now faces a patchwork of violent threats. In the northwest, states like Zamfara, Katsina, and Sokoto are grappling with armed banditry—criminal gangs that engage in mass looting, kidnappings for ransom, and targeted killings. ‘Villages are being emptied,’ Fall reports. ‘Over one million people have been displaced in the northwest alone.’

Meanwhile, in Nigeria’s central belt, escalating clashes between farmers and herders over dwindling land and water resources—compounded by climate change—have forced hundreds of thousands to flee their homes. In the south, grievances over oil exploitation and separatist movements add further instability to the volatile landscape.

The result? With approximately 3.5 million internally displaced persons, Nigeria now accounts for nearly 10% of Africa’s total displaced population.

Are Christians the sole targets? The data tells a different story

Recent high-profile attacks on churches and Christian schools have reignited debates about religious persecution in Nigeria. In January, over 160 worshippers were abducted during Sunday services in Kaduna State. Earlier, armed groups stormed villages in the northwest, killing dozens and targeting students near a Catholic school in Papiri.

The memory of the 2014 Chibok abduction—where Boko Haram kidnapped 276 schoolgirls, most of them Christian—looms large in this narrative. In response, the U.S. carried out airstrikes in northwest Nigeria on Christmas Day, with some Washington officials framing the violence as a ‘Christian genocide.’

However, Fall firmly rejects this characterization. He points out that the majority of the 40,000+ conflict-related deaths have been Muslim civilians killed in mosques. He cites a recent Christmas Eve attack in Maiduguri, the heart of the insurgency, where a blast rocked an area ‘between a mosque and a market,’ killing worshippers leaving prayer services. ‘Insecurity spares no one—Christian or Muslim, northerner or southerner,’ he states. ‘Reducing this crisis to religious persecution risks deepening divisions rather than fostering unity.’

An underfunded humanitarian emergency

Beneath the surface of violence lies a humanitarian catastrophe of staggering proportions. In the northeast alone, 7.2 million people require urgent assistance, with nearly 6 million in severe or critical need, according to UN assessments.

Food insecurity is reaching alarming levels. Projections indicate that up to 36 million Nigerians could face acute food shortages in the coming months. Among children under five, over 3.5 million risk acute malnutrition—a condition with lifelong consequences. ‘Malnutrition doesn’t just steal childhoods; it steals futures,’ Fall warns. ‘Stunted growth, impaired cognitive development, and reduced educational attainment echo across generations.’

Compounding these challenges are recurrent climate shocks—droughts and floods—outbreaks of cholera and meningitis, and a healthcare system stretched to its limits. Yet funding for humanitarian response has plummeted. Fall recalls that just a few years ago, the annual humanitarian appeal stood near $1 billion. In 2024, it dropped to $585 million. Last year, only $262 million was raised. This year, projections suggest funding may not even reach $200 million.

Nigeria’s economic might and the call for national accountability

Perhaps the starkest paradox of this crisis is that it unfolds in one of Africa’s largest economies. ‘Nigeria is not Sudan, Somalia, or South Sudan,’ Fall asserts. ‘This is a country with immense resources. The primary responsibility for addressing the humanitarian emergency lies with its own government.’

The UN’s strategy now focuses on gradually shifting leadership of the response to federal and state authorities while urging international donors not to turn away. ‘No community wants to rely on aid forever,’ he says. ‘People want economic opportunities, not handouts. Teaching them to fish is more powerful than giving them a fish.’