On December 10, 2020, representatives of the World Food Program, an executive member of the UN Development Group, accepted the Nobel Peace Prize for the organization’s efforts in providing global food assistance and combating world hunger. At the same time, statements made by Executive Director David Beasley point to a “catastrophic 2021,” in which the efforts of the WFP may fall drastically short of its goals. 

Despite being the largest humanitarian organization in the world, the WFP’s finances have come into light and under sharp criticism following the revelation that it was forced to tap into its emergency reserves this year. An examination of indicators regarding its financial viability, along with trends regarding the nature of its donation-based budget, is crucial to understand what has caused such a dire prediction for the future, and what needs to be done in order to fix it.

The WFP, founded in 1961, has historically been heavily dependent on its funding and its increasing efficacy has largely been correlated with a hike in the amount of money being allocated to it. Despite being an integral part of the UN, it receives no contribution from its parent organization. Despite this, on the surface, its annual budget appears to be both sustainable and increasing: 2019 saw the organization raise a record of 8 billion dollars, and in 2020 that figure was a similar $8.4 billion. 

However, an examination of the organization’s annual performance report reveals that it remains not nearly enough. By its own estimates, the funding could not meet the identified needs of food-insecure populations in 2019, and an estimated additional $4.1 billion was necessary to bridge the gap. Further, with the coronavirus pandemic responsible for devastation in food-insecure regions, that figure is likely to be much higher when the 2020 report is published, though the amount raised was sufficient in averting outright famine. 

The two major factors are conflict and wars. Approximately 80 percent of the WFP’s funding goes to conflict-stricken regions around the world and the slight increase in the amount of wars around the world is creating an untenable situation for the WFP, especially amid the COVID-19 pandemic. Additionally, one of the real emerging concerns is that the process is self-worsening.

Deliberate food insecurity, and the use of hunger as a weapon of war are on the rise around the world, as terrorist organizations, like Nigeria’s Boko Haram, increasingly utilize control over food resources as a tool for recruitment and radicalization. The circumstances are also exacerbated by a hike in the number of people going undernourished. In fact, this is a pre-COVID-19 trend: 2014 to 2019 actually saw an increase in malnourishment by 60 million (for a total of 690 million). 

In essence, the WFP’s funding issue is that there simply isn’t enough to cover exponentially increasing poverty and food insecurity — the organization cannot meet the needs of the world.

Though on paper it appears as though the WFP’s finances are strengthening year after year, the reality is that it faces a situation that has resulted in a rise in spending, but a decline in improvement. According to Beasely, “for the first time, we are going backwards.” A world headed for a mass population increase by 2050 and steadily facing an uptick of climate change-induced food insecurity is slowly contributing to a mass widening of the gulf between the WFP’s capabilities and its challenges, forcing it to potentially go under as it struggles to meet needs it cannot take on.

The forecast for 2021 is projected to worsen. Though abject food-related catastrophes were avoided in 2020, thanks in large part due to the WFP leadership working around closed ports of entry to deliver food-assistance, it did have to tap into its emergency reserves significantly. And in 2021, a rough estimate puts the WFP’s needs at a staggering $15 billion, nearly double the record amount ever raised. The need to serve around 138 million people, 30 million of whom are in ongoing conflict areas, is something the WFP will be held responsible for. In fact, Beasely claims that part of the reason the WFP was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2020 is that the awarding committee recognized their predicament and is giving them the recognition they need because “the needs of 2021 are going to be so critical that failure to address those needs will result in war, famine, and mass migration.”

The new year was accompanied by a minimal cessation in global hostilities — however, as new issues, such as the protests in Myanmar began to arise, and as ongoing problems throughout the world began to play out, the WFP’s program proved to be at risk. In this atmosphere, it is critical to question what drives the inability of the WFP to be meeting its budgetary requirements. 

As mentioned before, the WFP receives no funding from the UN, and there is no adequate explanation apart from cost-saving measures. Funding derived from the UN would do a great deal to match up to the required budget, as the organization would source funds from a contribution pool of all member states. In times of emergency, the World Bank could intervene with injecting cash to a degree far more than the current amount ($3.3 million) and restructuring the organization in the small scale. Instead, the vast bulk of the WFP budget comes from voluntary contributions from about 60 governments (of these, the United States is by and far the biggest donor), with major corporations and individual donations making up the remainder.

Immediately noticeable is the small number of countries and the disproportionate amount of contributions. While the United States supplies around a third of the budget at $3 billion, comparably wealthy countries, such as those that comprise the United Kingdom, provide only $562 million. Moreover, many countries also fall under the category of flexible donors, whereby they do not promise their full amount but rather dispense it discretionarily. While the assumption may be that the 60 donors of the WFP are those with the highest gross domestic product, the reality is far from it. Countries like Somalia, Bangladesh, Chad and Pakistan all rank in the top 30 donors, and a majority of the list is those very LEDCs that the WFP operates in. Contributions from wealthy countries are at such an all-time low that impoverished nations are, in effect, pulling much of the weight, negating the effect of humanitarian aid that the WFP is truly responsible for. 

The matter is perhaps even more serious when one considers that many of the top contributors are not even nations. Private donations are ranked 8th in amount of funding received, more than the entire contributions of countries like Russia, Norway, Switzerland, Australia, Italy, France and more. At the same time, other organizations like the Green Climate Fund and various corporate contributions are also ranked higher than many wealthier countries. It is increasingly evident that nations can do better than leave the challenge of solving world hunger in the hands of for-profit businesses and ordinary citizens’ contributions. A clear funding responsibility has become increasingly necessary. 

It is evident that now more than ever: the World Food Program requires the fair and proportional assistance of all countries. The present conditions surrounding the global pandemic and a worrying uptick in conflicts worldwide points to a near inevitable shortfall in mitigating the severe effects of world hunger for this calendar year, and likely many others. 

The WFP’s finances ought to be the concern of everyone, not least those living in contributing countries. The Nobel Peace Prize is not only a recognition of the program’s tremendous achievement, but it is also coming at a point in which the program needs help. One way or another, serious reform is required to equip the WFP for the challenges of the near future.

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The current United Nations report on activity in the region indicated that over 7,700 civilians have died preliminarily and over 800,000 were displaced. This prompted a surge in global activism and media coverage during the months of May and June. The tense shortage of foreign journalists in Yemen was quickly reversed as popular outlets like CNN, the Guardian, and Reporters Without Borders sent teams to cover the ongoing conflict. By now almost everybody has seen the photojournalism out of Yemen — images of skeletal children rummaging in rubble for food.

However, by July, as other recent events took over news cycles, the crisis in Yemen once again faded from the public consciousness, and there are, once again, only a handful of correspondents left. Meanwhile, the parallel conflict in Syria has been a staple in the public spotlight: unforgettable and always on the agenda. Western countries and populations always seemed to have an opinion and an active stance on Syria, yet allowed Yemen to slip into the background. 

This lack of Western attention and presence begets certain questions. How does a full-blown conflict get swept under the rug by western media and governments? Was Yemen failed by poor public relations campaigns? Or was it more sinister? Perhaps there are certain actors to truly blame for maintaining the conflict, or not doing enough to stop it. 

This article looks at three specific regional actors, the United States (along with two of its defense firms) and the United Nations to examine each of their motives and involvements to elaborate on their murky role in the ongoing Yemen crisis.

The crisis in Yemen began as a civil war with its origins in the Arab Spring movement of 2011, when the longtime authoritarian leader Ali Abdullah Saleh handed over power to a coalition led by his Prime Minister Mansour Hadi. This transition took place in the wake of popular uprisings against his 22-year regime known as the Yemeni Revolution. Immediately, the new president faced a slew of problems, not the least of which were jihadist and southern separatist rebellions born out of poverty, corruption and hunger. Saleh used this tension to attempt a retake of power, by banding together with Ansar Allah, another rebel group that had been fighting against Saleh for decades previously in a tenuous alliance, based on opportunism alone. They established a northern stronghold, and moved to brutally take over the capital of Sanaa in late 2014 and early 2015. Ansar Allah is now better known as the Houthis — the central rebels fighting today in the Yemeni crisis.

By this point, an alarmed Saudi Arabia and United Arab Emirates officially intervened in Yemen, with a force that was nominally multinational (but was mostly Saudi and Emarati soldiers), with the goal of stamping out the Houthis and restoring Hadi to power.

This is the second stop on the road to where Yemen is now. Why did Saudi Arabia, the UAE and some of the other Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) nations intervene? Officially, it was because of humanitarian reasons. But it is widely accepted that their intervention was done for a geopolitical purpose – a game played between regional powers – which only served to inflate the Yemeni crisis. 

The Houthis, which are Shia, represent a minority in Yemen. Shiism is one of two branches of Islam, practiced by over 10% of the world’s Muslims. The other branch, Sunnism, is dominant in the Islamic world and represents a majority in Saudi Arabia, the UAE and much of the Middle East. The two sects are in a seemingly irreconcilable schism, and there is tense religious tension between countries that adopt differing sects in the state religion.

This brings into play Iran, the only majority Shia country in the world. In the past, tensions across the Arab Gulf have been largely credited as stemming from this intra-faith tension, and the capture of Sanaa in 2015 could have been perceived by Saudi Arabia as the Iranians attempting to turn a former ally into a Shiite and pro-Iran outpost on its own borders. With Iran and Yemen situated on both of the two main chokepoints of the world’s most popular oil route, the strategic value of Yemen’s position remains invaluable to whoever holds sway in the country.

Over the past years, multiple third party observers, particularly in NATO and the Trump administration, have accused Iran of being involved in arming and supporting the Houthis. Iran has repeatedly denied involvement, however, citing an Obama-era U.S. intelligence assessment claiming no association between Iran and the Houthis. Yet, intercepted arms shipments, whistle-blowing from unnamed Iranian and Houthi officials and international estimates strongly suggest that Iran is arming the rebels, although the extent remains unclear. Saudi suspicion may be valid, given that Iran has a track record of supporting groups that have support with Shia populations, particularly Hezbollah. 

Prior to Saudi intervention, Yemen’s civil war was likely going to end quickly in a Houthi victory, when Saudi Arabia and the UAE interpreted this impending win to be a threat to their hegemony in the region and invaded to maintain the geopolitical status quo, which had lost support even with many Yemeni Sunnis. By 2018, the Saudi blockade of Yemen created a massive famine that malnourished 18 million civilians and precipitated appalling humanitarian conditions in the region.

But there weren’t just regional powers involved in Yemen. The United States has been heavily involved with the war. At the beginning of the conflict in 2011, U.S. intelligence relied on the Houthis as key strategic allies in the region for the fight against Al Qaeda. However, when Saudi Arabia intervened, the Obama administration gave its support. This would be a crucial move. The US turned its back on its agent in the region to honor a, “70-year alliance,” and in doing so precipitated the conflict: Saudi Arabia’s air force, responsible for an overwhelming majority of the blockade, airstrikes, and bombings, is entirely dependent on American supply and technical expertise.

At the end of the day, it was not just a political decision, but likely an economical one: private defense contractors are making money from Saudi Arabia, their “most valuable customer abroad” ($115 billion in 2015). Lockheed alone signed multiple $3 billion supply deals with Saudi Arabia and the UAE in recent months. Under the Trump administration not only has America signed an unprecedentedly large 350 billion dollar arms deal with Saudi Arabia, but Raytheon, a leading American defense company, has managed to elevate its chief lobbyist, Mark Esper, to the position of Secretary of Defense. Estimates suggest that Raytheon-supplied military technology has directly resulted in the deaths of 100,000 Yemeni people.

The UN’s actions have been limited. In early 2018, it seemed as though Yemen would enter an irrecoverable state of conflict, as the fighting reached Hudaydah, the country’s only active port and a lifeline for the entire Yemeni population. UN Special Envoy Martin Griffiths, backed by his home country the United Kingdom, spent weeks traveling between the Houthi and the allied sides, exchanging information, brokering agreements, and attempting to bring both parties to the negotiating table. Eventually, this led to the signing of the Stockholm Agreement, which called for an armistice and redeployment in Hudaydah, a prisoner exchange program and a neutralization of hostilities in the city of Taïz.

However, the UN’s resolution has been cited as generally weak. Though it prevented a catastrophe, it has not averted the war. Taïz remains a conflict zone, and full redeployment in Hudaydah has not occurred till this date, as conflict seems increasingly imminent. In effect, each party (though particularly Saudi Arabia) has been able to use the Stockholm Agreement as a PR tool and a distraction from the self-generated humanitarian crisis to create plausible deniability.

It seems that Yemen’s present-day condition was born out of several factors. Chief among them is regional geopolitics in a wider ideological and religious conflict between Saudi Arabia and Iran, for which Yemen can be seen as a proxy battlefield. The United States has played no small role in fanning the flames, using Yemen as an opportunity to develop Saudi reliance on U.S. technology, and profit likely in order to strengthen their access to Saudi oil. And the UN, though it may have achieved the objective of preventing an even worse situation, has nevertheless perpetuated the status quo through lax demands and a minimal capacity to enforce redeployment of troops.

And recent events fail to paint a rosy picture. The September 2019 drone strike on Saudi Arabia’s Aramco, which damaged half of all of the Kingdom’s oil production capability, only stoked an increase in hostilities in Yemen. And even disarmament may not seem to be working. In July, Saudi Arabia called for a unilateral ceasefire for the duration of the COVID-19 pandemic, but the Houthis rejected it, and fighting continued in a tit-for-tat manner, while the virus takes a devastating toll on the war-torn population. Meanwhile, the UAE, which withdrew all its forces from the conflict to instead support a third breakaway group in the south, the STC, has guaranteed nothing short of a second theater to the conflict.

It seems that the human cost of the war, already unimaginable in scope, will simply continue to get worse until all actors are able to isolate Yemen from their wider strategic ambitions, and work toward ceasing hostilities and permitting self-rule. Unfortunately, that seems increasingly unlikely to occur soon.

We are currently at a critical juncture in the Yemen conflict. As countries grapple with the pandemic, and the conflict has seemingly been put on hiatus, it becomes crucial for people and countries across the world to pay attention to this ongoing issue. As parties begin to look for exit strategies and sensational incidents like drone strikes become more and more common, it is crucial that the media keep reporting on this issue, initiating transparency and accountability, and keeping the pressure up. 

There may never be a chance like this to push for peace when all sides seem to be taking a break. The alternative is a degeneration back into a conveniently ignorable but utterly damaging conflict. 

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