Humanitarian aid is in crisis. In 2024 out of the 300 million people assessed to be in need, only 181 million were targeted to receive aid – the lowest percentage ever. Despite these gaps, the United States announced this year it would scale back its contributions – accounting for 43 per cent of global humanitarian funding – and other major donors have followed suit.

To understand how unpredictable aid affects people on the ground, our research team from the University of Oxford tracked 622 refugee households in Kakuma, Kenya, one of the world’s largest refugee camps. We interviewed each household 10 times over the course of a year.

Kenya currently hosts over 850,000 refugees and asylum seekers, the majority fleeing protracted conflict, repression and climate-related disasters in Somalia, South Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Under Kenya’s encampment policy, refugees are required to live in two massive camps located in remote, arid regions on the country’s periphery. Agriculture is virtually impossible due to chronic water scarcity, and economic activity is constrained by both the camps’ distance from major markets and restrictions on refugees’ freedom of movement and employment.

As a result, most refugees depend heavily on humanitarian assistance. Not by choice. Many are young and able-bodied, eager to study, work and contribute to their host communities. Yet a web of legal restrictions and physical barriers keeps them from doing so.

When we began our study in October 2022, every refugee in the camp was receiving monthly food assistance from the World Food Programme (WFP), either in cash or in-kind. The value of this support was already modest: about $17 per person per month, equivalent to about 50 cents a day. It covered only around 80 per cent of what WFP considered the minimum needed to meet basic nutritional needs. Funding constraints were already tightening the lifeline.

About 60 per cent of households in Kakuma were fully dependent on humanitarian aid to survive. Living on just 50 cents a day means eating only one or two meals per day, usually rice or maize with beans and a little oil. Meat, fish, and fruit are usually absent; onions, greens or tomatoes are rare treats.

To cover healthcare or school fees, families often go hungry or take on debt, with high interest rates, placing a heavy burden on already fragile livelihoods.

Households with access to another source of income were also extremely poor. The average wage of those working was only $50 per month and most households have many dependents. Virtually everyone needs aid.

Halfway through our year-long study, WFP was forced to cut assistance by 20 per cent after a special US funding contribution expired. From $17 per person per month, aid was reduced to only $13 per person per month.

The reduction affected all refugees in the camp and happened in the middle of our eighth survey wave. Some households were surveyed just before the cut and others just after, and our survey continued for three months following the shock. This provided a rare opportunity to rigorously measure the immediate and longer-term impacts of a real-world aid cut.

Our analysis shows the consequences in Kakuma were swift and severe. The share of households eating one meal or less per day increased by 8 percentage points, from about 43 per cent  to 51 per cent . Caloric intake was already low before the cut, about 2,000 kilocalories per day – less than half the US average. Following the cut, it fell further, by 145 kilocalories per person per day. This is a 7 per cent drop.

Refugees not only ate less but shifted to less diverse and lower-quality diets. Total household expenditure per capita fell by 22 per cent, which includes expenditures on food but also firewood, health and education. Refugees reported worse sleep and lower well-being over time.

As one Somali refugee told us: “After the aid reduction, the lives of refugees became hard. That was the money sustaining them… Hunger is visible.”

Perhaps most strikingly, the aid cut triggered a collapse in the informal credit market. In Kakuma, shopkeepers often extend food on credit to refugees, using aid cards on which refugees receive aid as collateral. When the value of those future transfers dropped, shopkeepers tightened credit limits or stopped lending altogether.

Roughly one third of refugees will receive no food assistance at all. It is too early to assess the impact, but the plan has already sparked violent protests in the camp.

Informal borrowing from shopkeepers fell, and many refugees reported being denied food or forced to repay existing debts before buying more. One shopkeeper summed it up, “Since the aid is reduced, the credit is also reduced.” Without access to credit, families began selling assets and eating into their food reserves to cope with the shock.

Since our study, the situation has deteriorated. In June, WFP cut rations to the equivalent of just $5 per person per month or 20 cents per day. It is almost impossible to survive on so little. Hunger is now widespread. Our rough estimates suggest that two thirds of households eat only one meal or less per day, with average calorie intake likely below 1,650 kilocalories per person per day.

The current crisis reaches far beyond food and expenditures. The humanitarian economy is collapsing. With so little money circulating, shops have closed, leaving even fewer options for income. Many refugees now see no future under the current system: Some call for repatriation despite ongoing instability in their home countries, while those with the means may attempt to migrate further. Refugees report rising insecurity, as some resort to theft to feed their families.

This month, WFP began rolling out a “differentiated assistance” plan that categorises refugee households into four groups based on assessed vulnerability. The most vulnerable – including single mothers with many children, new arrivals, people with disabilities, and child-headed households – will now receive the equivalent of about $8 per person per month in cash or in-kind.

The second most vulnerable group will receive half that amount. But roughly one third of refugees will receive no food assistance at all. It is too early to assess the impact, but the plan has already sparked violent protests in the camp. Many fear it will leave some households – especially those misclassified – with no resources at all.

It’s not just aid cuts that are the problem. Delays in aid distribution – a phenomenon our study examined – can also trigger a crisis. We demonstrated that when aid is not delivered on time, families eat fewer meals, have less diverse diets, and go longer without reaching basic nutritional thresholds.

The vast majority of cash transfers arrived late over the course of our one-year study. The average delay during our study period was 11 days, with some transfers arriving up to 20 days late.

When aid doesn’t arrive on time, many refugees turn to debt to survive. To do so, refugees use their aid cards as collateral to secure debt, effectively pledging future aid to buy food for today.

The causes are largely bureaucratic. Before any transfer is released, refugees must complete a “proof of life” via fingerprint scan to confirm their presence in the camp. The resulting database then goes through multiple layers of cross-checking and centralised approval. Each stage adds friction. The result is a system in which refugees can’t predict when transfers will arrive, only that it likely won’t arrive on time.

When aid doesn’t arrive on time, many refugees turn to debt to survive. To do so, refugees use their aid cards as collateral to secure debt, effectively pledging future aid to buy food for today. But credit isn’t free. Prices for food bought on credit are, on average, 17 per cent higher than those paid in cash.

Our research has implications for different actors.

First, for donors: Humanitarian aid is not optional; it is a necessity. Abrupt funding cuts can devastate lives and mechanisms are needed to protect humanitarian assistance from sudden withdrawals, such as pooled funding, contingency reserves, or multi-year commitments.

Reducing aid budgets is a grave mistake, a moral failure. If budgets must shrink, the axe should not fall on humanitarian aid. Reductions should target areas where they cause less harm, such as development programmes in middle-income countries that can better absorb the shock.

Second, for humanitarian organisations: In times of acute funding shortages, they must prioritise life-saving support, such as food assistance, clean water, sanitation and shelter. While the needs are many, a temporary focus on the basics can prevent the worst outcomes while awaiting more stable funding.

Finally, for Kenya and other major host countries: Refugees must be granted the right to work and move freely. Most refugee camps are located in areas that are too remote and too arid to achieve self-reliance. Allowing refugees to work and relocate could reduce dependency on aid and open pathways to dignity and self-sufficiency.

• A Tell Media report / By Olivier Sterck: Associate professor at the University of Oxford and University of Antwerp, working on humanitarian aid and refugee economies