As we enter 2026, there is one truth we cannot ignore. Children around the world are facing the greatest level of need in modern history. Just as the humanitarian system designed to protect children and their futures is grappling with its biggest challenge in decades.
The events of 2025 marked a dramatic rupture in global humanitarian assistance and development efforts. When the United States abruptly cut off foreign aid in January, billions of dollars disappeared overnight. Critical programs were suspended, offices closed, and millions of people suddenly lost access to food, health care, education, and protection. Overnight, the lifelines that communities have relied on for decades were put at risk, and as always, children were left to pay the highest price.
For international NGOs, the impact was immediate and profound. At Save the Children, we have had to make the most difficult decision in our 106-year history. We have had to close national offices, cut thousands of staff, and scale back lifesaving operations. We estimated that approximately 11.5 million people, including 6.7 million children, would feel the impact of these cuts immediately, but that many more people would be affected in the long term.
The aid cuts come at a time when children around the world are already facing major challenges, from conflict to displacement to climate change, and decades of progress are at risk of being reversed.
The facts are surprising. By 2025, one in five children will be living in conflict zones, where record numbers of children are being killed, injured, sexually assaulted and abducted. Approximately 50 million children have been forced from their homes around the world. Almost half of the world’s children (approximately 1.12 billion) do not have access to a balanced diet, and approximately 272 million are out of school.
These numbers indicate a global failure. Behind each statistic is a childhood curtailed, a childhood defined by fear, hunger, and loss of potential.
For children, the collapse of aid was not an abstract budgetary decision, but something deeply personal. As violence, climate change, and displacement intensify, clinics close, classrooms close, and protective services disappear. Years of hard-won progress in child survival, education and rights are suddenly at risk of being undone, leaving millions of children even more vulnerable to hunger, exploitation and violence.
The crisis has also exposed the fragility of the global aid system itself. When humanitarian aid is concentrated in the hands of a few government donors, sudden political changes have a direct impact on children’s lives. The events of 2025 showed how quickly international commitments can crumble, and how devastating it can be for the youngest and least protected people.
But in the midst of this chaos, something unusual happened.
In many places, families, teachers, health care workers, and community organizations have found ways to continue learning, provide care, and create spaces where children can play, heal, and feel safe. These efforts emphasized a simple truth: That is, the response is strongest when it is rooted close to the children themselves.
There were also moments of progress. In a year marked by a backlash against human rights, important legal reforms advanced child protection, from banning corporal punishment in Thailand to criminalizing child marriage to passing a digital protection law in Bolivia. These achievements remind us that change is possible, even in difficult times when children’s rights are at the center of public debate and policy.
From the shock of 2025 comes a moment of reflection and opportunity. We need to adapt and innovate approaches that are more sustainable, more locally-led, and more responsible for the people we serve. For children, this change is very important. Decisions made closer to the community are more likely to reflect children’s real needs and aspirations.
In this period of reinvention, difficult questions are also resurfacing that can no longer be postponed. How can we protect lifesaving aid from political instability? How can we diversify funding so that children are not abandoned if one donor withdraws? And how can children and young people meaningfully participate in the decisions that will shape their future?
Innovation alone won’t save children, but it can help. Responsible use of digital tools, data, and community-driven design can improve access, accountability, and trust. Used poorly, it risks deepening inequality. The challenges are not technical, but political and ethical.
Even when bombs fall or aid dries up, children don’t stop wanting to learn, play, and dream. In camps, cities, and devastated neighborhoods, they organize, speak out, and imagine futures that adults have failed to secure. They remind us why our work and our ability to adapt are so important.
This year in Gaza, I witnessed the daily horrors children are experiencing as the war continues for more than two years and much of the Strip is covered in rubble. I saw children facing malnutrition in medical clinics and heard that some children wanted to die with their parents in heaven. No child should live in such fear that death is preferable. They are children and their voices need to be heard.
If 2025 reveals the failure of the old aid model, 2026 will surely be a turning point. Other choices are also possible. It is about building systems that are resilient to political shocks, grounded in local leadership, and accountable to the children they claim to serve. The challenge now is to rebuild the system so that no matter how the world changes, we can always put children first.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Al Jazeera.
