How I’m Using AI in Humanitarian WASH Response – Lessons from 25 Years in the Field (and Why Data Privacy Must Come First)

Over 25 years of leading WASH responses across South Asia, the Horn of Africa, the Middle East and beyond, I’ve seen technology both accelerate life-saving work and create new risks when used carelessly. Artificial intelligence is now entering our sector at real speed. From coordinating large multi-partner WASH responses in Tigray, Amhara, Gaza and the West Bank, Cox’s Bazar, South Sudan, and during the El Niño drought and cholera outbreaks in Ethiopia, I’ve started to explore practical ways field and coordination colleagues can put AI to work — without losing the human judgement that remains at the heart of what we do.

But as we adopt these tools, one issue has become impossible to ignore: **data privacy**.

What I’m Already Seeing AI Deliver

In the responses I’ve led, AI is beginning to help with the tasks that have always consumed time and scarce analytical capacity:

• Rapid damage and needs assessment using satellite and drone imagery (tools such as SKAI and DEEP can flag damaged water infrastructure or flooded areas in hours rather than weeks).
• Predictive analytics for early warning — platforms like HungerMap Live combine climate, market, conflict and nutrition data to highlight emerging food and WASH crises before they peak.
• Language and information management support: summarising long situation reports, translating technical guidance, and pulling key points from partner updates.
• Operational efficiency: drafting donor briefings, flash appeal text, risk analyses and meeting notes.
• Community-facing tools such as chatbots that help deliver verified hygiene messages or referral information in multiple languages.

In WASH Cluster and sector coordination roles, the most immediate value has been processing the volume of partner reports, gap analyses and donor materials that arrive every week.

Practical Ways I (and Field Colleagues) Can Use AI Day-to-Day

Drawing from the reality of coordinating 40–100+ partners under pressure, here is how I see AI fitting into daily work:

1. Situation analysis and reporting: When preparing the WASH component of a response plan or flash appeal (as I did in Northern Ethiopia and Palestine), secure generative AI tools can summarise partner reports, extract recurring gaps, and produce a first draft of needs and priorities. The output is never final — it is a starting point that the team then verifies against field data and partner knowledge.
2. Donor engagement and resource mobilisation: In Ethiopia I mobilised over $200 million across two years through intensive donor briefings. AI can help draft concise talking points, tailor messaging to different donor priorities, and organise the evidence base more quickly. The relationship-building and strategic judgement remain firmly human.
3. Capacity building and localisation: A recurring priority in my recent UNICEF roles has been strengthening local partners. AI can help generate simple training materials, checklists on WASH standards or anticipatory action, and translated guidance that local organisations can adapt. In low-connectivity settings, we still need offline or lightweight options.
4. Risk-informed and climate-resilient programming: For flooding, cholera and conflict-related displacement responses, predictive models and scenario analysis can support the risk analysis we already do. They complement, rather than replace, community knowledge and partner assessments.
5. Everyday coordination tasks: Meeting notes, action trackers, draft emails to government counterparts or municipalities, and initial analysis of qualitative feedback from hygiene promotion activities can all be accelerated. This frees capacity for the face-to-face coordination and advocacy that matter most.

Data Privacy: The Non-Negotiable Foundation

Every one of the uses above involves data — sometimes highly sensitive data about people who are already extremely vulnerable. In my experience coordinating responses in conflict and displacement settings, I have seen how personal information (names, locations, family details, health status, displacement history) can become a protection risk if it falls into the wrong hands.

Recent high-profile breaches, including the 2026 cyberattack on the World Food Programme that exposed data of hundreds of thousands of Palestinian households in Gaza, are a stark reminder. When people are forced to choose between hunger and handing over personal details, “consent” is rarely free or informed. Once data leaves our control — whether through commercial AI tools, third-party vendors, or poorly secured systems — we can no longer guarantee it will not be misused.

From years of work in fragile contexts, I apply a few hard rules:

• Never put beneficiary data, protection-sensitive information, or unvetted partner reports into commercial AI tools such as public ChatGPT or Claude.
• Prefer organisation-approved, secure platforms with clear data-protection safeguards.
• Practise strict data minimisation: collect and process only what is truly necessary.
• Keep a human in the loop for any decision that affects people’s access to services or safety.
• Conduct proper risk assessments before introducing new digital tools, especially those involving biometrics, cash systems, or predictive analytics.
• Remember that local knowledge and community voice cannot be automated. The best AI use still starts from what communities and local partners tell us on the ground.

The ICRC Handbook on Data Protection in Humanitarian Action remains my key reference. It reminds us that data protection is not an obstacle to effective response — it is part of protecting people’s life, integrity and dignity.

Looking Ahead

In my work advancing HDP Nexus approaches, climate-resilient services and localisation, AI is becoming another tool in the kit — useful when it helps us reach more people with better-quality, more accountable WASH services, and risky when it creates a false sense of precision or distances us from the communities we serve.

I am still learning. Like many of my colleagues, I experiment carefully, share what works, and keep asking the same question I have asked throughout my career: does this help us deliver more effectively, more accountably, and with greater respect for the people at the centre of the response?

That question now includes a second, equally important one: are we protecting their data with the same care we protect their physical safety?

That remains the only test that matters.

Navigating India’s Water Crossroads: My Reflections on the Sector in 2026

India’s water story has always felt deeply personal to me. We are a country of 1.4 billion people living with just 4% of the world’s freshwater. Every summer shortage in a city, every farmer waiting for the monsoon, every drying well in Punjab or Rajasthan is not just a statistic — it is a reminder of how closely our daily lives, food security and economic ambitions are tied to water.

As I look at the sector in mid-2026, a few themes stand out strongly to me. These are not abstract policy points; they are the issues that will decide whether India manages its water future with foresight or continues to lurch from crisis to crisis.

The Monsoon Is No Longer Reliable — and That Changes Everything

This year’s weak and uneven monsoon has once again exposed our vulnerability. Forecasts of below-normal rainfall, a particularly dry June, and growing talk of El Niño effects are not surprises anymore. Rain is arriving in intense bursts separated by long dry spells. Reservoirs drop quickly, cities scramble for tankers, and rain-fed farmers suffer.

What concerns me most is that we still plan as if a “normal” monsoon is the default. It no longer is. Climate variability is the new normal. We need water systems that can handle extremes — better storage, smarter groundwater recharge, and urban infrastructure that does not collapse under a few days of heavy rain or prolonged dry weather. Treating every deficient monsoon as an emergency rather than a structural reality is no longer sustainable.

Groundwater: The Crisis We Prefer Not to See

Groundwater is India’s quiet backbone and its biggest hidden risk. National numbers look manageable (extraction around 60–61%), but the regional picture is alarming. Punjab, Rajasthan and Haryana continue to extract far more than nature replenishes. Farmers are forced to dig deeper every year. Water-intensive crops in water-scarce regions, powered by cheap or free electricity, have created a slow-motion disaster.

I have long believed that without serious reform in agricultural water use — crop diversification, realistic power pricing, and large-scale micro-irrigation — the rest of our efforts will only buy us time. The fact that agriculture still consumes the overwhelming majority of our freshwater cannot be ignored any longer.

Jal Jeevan Mission: A Genuine Success That Now Needs to Mature

One development that genuinely gives me hope is the progress of the Jal Jeevan Mission. Moving rural tap-water coverage from roughly 17% in 2019 to over 82% today is a remarkable achievement by any global standard. Millions of women and girls have been freed from the daily burden of fetching water. That alone is transformative.

JJM 2.0, now extended to 2028 with a sharper focus on functionality, source sustainability and operations, is the right next step. Connections without reliable supply, quality and maintenance will eventually lose public trust. The shift from “providing taps” to “providing lasting service” is critical, and I hope states treat this phase with the same urgency as the first.

Wastewater Must Stop Being Treated as Waste

India still generates far more sewage than it treats properly. A large portion of untreated or poorly treated water continues to pollute rivers and aquifers. At the same time, we face growing freshwater shortages.

This contradiction frustrates me. Treated wastewater is a resource we are only beginning to use seriously. States that have introduced clear reuse targets and city-level plans are moving in the right direction. Industry, construction, power plants and urban landscaping can absorb significant volumes of recycled water. Making reuse the default rather than the exception should be a national priority.

Namami Gange has shown that sustained effort produces results — improved treatment capacity, reduced industrial pollution load in key stretches, and better water quality indicators. The work is far from finished, but it proves that focused, long-term programmes can turn the tide.

New Pressures and New Opportunities

Urban growth, industrial expansion and the rise of data centres (with their heavy cooling needs) are adding fresh demand. Coastal desalination is gaining attention. Corporate India is beginning to treat water stewardship as a business necessity rather than a CSR checkbox. These are positive shifts.

The scale of required investment — estimated in the range of several lakh crore rupees over the coming years — also creates real opportunity for technology, engineering and service providers. But capital alone will not solve the problem. Fragmented governance across states, heavily subsidised pricing that hides true costs, and slow reallocation of water between sectors remain structural weaknesses. Until these are addressed more honestly, shortages will keep returning.

What I Believe Matters Most Going Forward

In my view, three things will determine success:

1. Treat water as one connected system — surface water, groundwater and wastewater must be managed together, not in silos.  
2. Align incentives with reality — especially in agriculture and urban pricing.  
3. Build for variability, not averages — climate resilience has to be designed into every project.

India has the technical capacity, the policy instruments and, increasingly, the public awareness. What we need is consistency, political courage on difficult reforms, and a willingness to measure success by reliable service rather than just infrastructure numbers.

Water security is not a side issue. It underpins food production, urban liveability, industrial competitiveness and social equity. Getting it right will be one of the defining tests of India’s development journey in the coming decade.

I remain cautiously optimistic. The progress of the last few years shows what is possible when focus and resources align. The question now is whether we can sustain that momentum and go deeper — from access to reliability, from extraction to stewardship, and from crisis response to long-term resilience.

The Quiet Water Waste in India’s High-Rises

One aspect of India’s urban water crisis that I find particularly striking — and often under-discussed — is the behaviour inside high-rise apartments.

In many Indian cities, a growing share of the middle and upper-middle class now lives in multi-storey buildings. On paper, this looks efficient: shared infrastructure, denser living. In practice, it frequently drives higher per-person freshwater consumption. People flush toilets more freely, clean floors and vehicles with running water, take longer showers without any sense of limit, and leave minor leaks unattended for weeks because the cost is buried in a common maintenance bill or a flat monthly charge. When water does not feel expensive or scarce at the individual level, restraint disappears.

This is not a small issue. Urban domestic demand is rising faster than many city utilities can supply. In high-rises, the problem is amplified by:

• Lack of individual metering or volumetric billing in many societies  
• Zero marginal cost for the resident once the maintenance fee is paid  
• Design that prioritises convenience (powerful showers, multiple bathrooms, frequent cleaning) over efficiency  
• A cultural shift where continuous high-pressure supply is treated as a basic entitlement rather than a scarce resource  

The result is a silent but steady increase in the burden on already stressed municipal sources, groundwater and tanker supplies. Cities end up chasing more supply — new pipelines, distant reservoirs, or deeper borewells — while a significant portion of the water that reaches these buildings is used more liberally than necessary.

I see this as both a behavioural and a governance failure. We have spent years focusing on expanding supply and improving treatment. Those efforts remain essential. But without parallel attention to demand management inside homes, especially in the fastest-growing housing typology, we will keep running harder just to stay in the same place.

Practical steps that can make a difference are not complicated:

• Mandatory individual metering and volumetric billing in all new high-rises, and gradual introduction in existing ones  
• Stronger building codes that require low-flow fixtures, dual-flush toilets and leak-detection systems  
• Society-level incentives or penalties linked to overall consumption  
• Simple awareness that treats water the way we now treat electricity or fuel — as something whose waste has a visible personal cost  

Until the person living on the 12th floor feels the consequence of an extra-long shower or a dripping tap, the pressure on freshwater sources will continue to grow. Supply-side solutions alone cannot keep pace with this kind of demand.

This urban behavioural reality sits alongside the larger challenges I wrote about earlier — monsoon variability, groundwater depletion, wastewater under-utilisation and the need for better pricing signals. Together they underline a simple truth: India’s water future will be decided as much by how carefully we use what we have as by how much new water we manage to bring in.

The high-rise apartment is a good place to start changing that equation.

When War Has No Frontlines

Escalating Conflicts, Civilian Harm, and Changing Warfare - Reflections from 25+ years in the field

After more than twenty-five years designing and delivering WASH programmes in some of the world’s most complex crises — from the Northern Sri Lanka conflict, Rohingya response in Bangladesh and the Tigray conflict in Ethiopia to Gaza, South Sudan, Afghanistan, and Northern Syria — I have watched the nature of conflict change in ways that keep me awake at night.

Today we are living through a level of armed conflict not seen since the Second World War. The number, intensity, and geographic spread of crises have grown relentlessly. Sudan, the Occupied Palestinian Territory and Lebanon, Myanmar, Haiti, Afghanistan, Yemen, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Ukraine, and the growing risks in South Sudan and the Sahel are not isolated emergencies. They form a connected landscape of violence that is systematically destroying civilian life and the systems that sustain it.

Civilians Are No Longer on the Sidelines

In every major response I have coordinated, the pattern is the same: civilians are not collateral damage — they are the primary target or the inevitable victims. Hospitals are hit. Water systems are deliberately damaged. Aid workers are killed or detained. Sexual violence is used as a weapon. Displacement is no longer temporary; entire generations are growing up without the prospect of return.

I saw this clearly in Tigray and Amhara, where conflict and cholera collided. I saw it again in Gaza and the West Bank, where water and sanitation infrastructure became strategic targets. I saw it in South Sudan during successive displacement and cholera waves, and in Afghanistan as the political ground shifted overnight under our feet. Across these contexts, more than 117 million people are now forcibly displaced by conflict and violence. The numbers are not abstract. They are the families I have sat with in camps, the children whose water points I helped restore, and the local partners whose clinics were forced to close.

International humanitarian law, which should protect those who are not fighting, is being disregarded with growing impunity. When health facilities are attacked and medical staff are killed while trying to save lives, the message is clear: the rules that once constrained warfare are eroding.

Drones Have Redrawn the Map of Danger

One of the most profound shifts I have witnessed in recent years is the rapid spread of drones. What was once the preserve of advanced militaries is now available to a wide range of armed actors. The effect has been transformative — and deeply dangerous for both civilians and humanitarians.

Drones extend violence far beyond traditional frontlines. They make attacks more frequent, more precise, and harder to predict. Markets, clinics, displacement sites, and aid distribution points that once felt relatively secure are now within reach. In several of the responses I have led or supported, drone incidents affecting humanitarian operations have multiplied. Danger is no longer confined to the front line. It is constant, diffuse, and increasingly unpredictable.

This changes everything about how we plan, move, and deliver. Remote management, once a pragmatic solution in places like Northern Syria, is becoming a necessity in more and more contexts. Local partners, who often carry the greatest risk, need stronger protection, better equipment, and genuine decision-making power — not just the residual tasks that international organisations find too dangerous.

Aid Workers Are Paying the Price

The humanitarians trying to respond are themselves under extraordinary pressure. Hundreds of aid workers have been killed in recent years. Detention of staff has risen sharply. In my own career, I have managed teams through Taliban takeover in Afghanistan, coordinated under fire in Ethiopia, and supported responses where access was systematically blocked or conditioned.

When security risks rise, and funding falls at the same time, the result is predictable: fewer staff in the field, reduced presence, and greater reliance on already overstretched local organisations. The space for principled humanitarian action is shrinking. Administrative obstacles, political interference, and direct threats compound the danger. Every time a health facility closes or a water system cannot be repaired because it is too dangerous to reach, civilians pay the price.

What This Demands of Us

These trends — more conflicts, greater civilian harm, new technologies of violence, and rising risks for those who try to help — are occurring against a backdrop of historic funding cuts. The combination is forcing the humanitarian system into painful prioritisation. Millions of people who need assistance may receive little or none.

After twenty-five years, I remain convinced of one thing: technical excellence in WASH or any other sector is not enough if the people we serve are killed or displaced the next day. We need stronger political action to protect civilians and uphold international humanitarian law. We need practical adaptation — better analysis of drone threats, genuine localisation that transfers real power and resources, and sustained investment in the local responders who stay when international staff are evacuated.

The current moment is defined by brutality, impunity, and indifference. Yet it is also a moment that demands clarity. The scale of civilian suffering we are witnessing is not inevitable. It is the result of choices — by parties to conflict, by those who arm them, and by an international community that too often looks away.

Those of us who have spent our careers in this work will continue to deliver what we can, under increasingly difficult conditions. But the deeper solution lies in reducing the violence itself, protecting those caught in it, and restoring the principle that even in war, some things must remain forbidden.

The people living through these conflicts deserve nothing less.

The Humanitarian Reset: Can the Aid System Adapt Before It Breaks?

In March 2025, as humanitarian needs soared and funding collapsed, UN Emergency Relief Coordinator Tom Fletcher issued a stark call: the system needed a fundamental Humanitarian Reset. A year and a half later, that reset remains one of the most closely watched—and contested—reform efforts in the aid sector.

At its core, the Reset is a collective commitment by the Inter-Agency Standing Committee (IASC) to make humanitarian action faster, fairer, more accountable, and more locally led. Its vision is clear: a system that is “locally led and globally supported, rooted in communities and driven by greatest need.” The framework rests on four pillars—Define, Deliver, Devolve, and Defend—supported by enablers around data, innovation, financing, and partnerships.

What the Reset Actually Aims to Change

Define means ruthless prioritisation. In a world of constrained resources, the 2026 Global Humanitarian Overview focused on roughly 87 million people facing the most extreme, life-threatening needs—down from broader earlier targets. This “hyper-prioritisation” is both a necessary triage and a painful admission that the system can no longer pretend to cover everyone.

Deliver focuses on efficiency: simpler coordination structures, streamlined planning and reporting, greater use of cash and anticipatory action, and reduced bureaucracy.

Devolve is the most politically charged pillar. It calls for shifting decision-making and resources closer to affected communities and local actors, with stronger country-level leadership by Humanitarian Coordinators and greater direct funding to national and local organisations.

Defend prioritises the protection of humanitarian principles and international humanitarian law at a time when both are under sustained attack.

Where UN80 Comes In

The Humanitarian Reset does not exist in isolation. It runs in parallel with, and is reinforced by, the broader UN80 Initiative—the United Nations’ system-wide reform effort launched by Secretary-General António Guterres in March 2025 to mark the organisation’s 80th anniversary.

While the Reset covers the entire humanitarian system (UN agencies, NGOs, the Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement, and local actors), UN80’s humanitarian component—the New Humanitarian Compact—focuses specifically on UN entities. It pushes for integrated supply chains, common services, simplified planning, better data collaboration, and clearer agency roles. In practice, the two efforts are designed to reinforce each other: the Reset sets the overall direction, while UN80 operationalises efficiency and coherence reforms within the UN pillar.

The Painful Reality of Transition

The transition phase has exposed deep structural and human challenges. As funding contracted sharply, most UN agencies and partner organisations were forced to reduce their footprint significantly. Money became scarce, programs were cut, and offices shrank. This scarcity ignited intense organisational-level politics: which program areas should survive, how to prioritise limited resources, who remains in a job, and who stays relevant in a leaner system.

Leaders responsible for these decisions often struggled. Clear, practical guidance was limited. What direction did exist largely came top-down, leaving country teams and mid-level managers to navigate uncertainty with incomplete information. The result has been hesitation, internal competition, and risk-averse decision-making at precisely the moment when bold choices were needed.

This dynamic risks making the transition more difficult and, ultimately, rendering parts of the humanitarian sector less relevant. When energy is consumed by internal survival rather than external impact, the system drifts further from the people it exists to serve.

Rethinking the UN Mandate

Beyond operational efficiencies and localisation, the United Nations needs to seriously rethink its fundamental mandate. The effectiveness of the UN has significantly declined in recent years, and its relevance is increasingly questioned—by donors, by governments, by local actors, and by the very people living through crises.

The current model, in which multiple UN agencies act as large-scale operational organisations competing for funds and delivering programs directly, is no longer sustainable or necessary. The cost of UN delivery remains high, often without clear comparative advantage over local or national actors. Overlapping mandates across agencies create duplication, bureaucratic layers, and institutional self-preservation rather than collective impact.

What is needed is a deliberate step back. The UN should move away from being primarily an operational delivery machine and reposition itself as a technical powerhouse and global think tank. Its core value should lie in providing high-quality analysis, standards, policy advice, surge technical expertise, and convening power—supporting governments, local organisations, and international NGOs to lead responses on the ground. One coherent UN, rather than a collection of competing agencies, could house specialised technical capacity across sectors without expanding into large operational footprints. Coordination should be streamlined into a single, clear structure rather than fragmented across multiple mechanisms.

This shift would not diminish the UN’s importance. It would restore it—by focusing on what the organisation can uniquely offer in a constrained, multipolar world, while enabling those closest to crises to lead delivery.

What Should Happen Instead

Genuine reform requires more honest discussions about increasing effectiveness while deliberately reducing the size and complexity of organisations. The number of UN agencies and the breadth of sectors they control need a fundamental shake-up. Incremental streamlining under UN80 and the Humanitarian Reset is useful, but insufficient if the underlying architecture of multiple operational agencies remains intact.

A lighter, more technical UN focused on enabling others—rather than competing with them—would reduce overheads, clarify roles, and free resources for frontline impact. Delivery should increasingly rest with governments, local organisations, and capable INGOs, with the UN providing the global knowledge, norms, and specialised support that only a multilateral institution can offer.

Progress, Gaps, and the Road Ahead

There has been measurable movement under the Reset and UN80: simplified coordination guidance, greater authority for country teams, pilots of integrated supply chains, and the launch of data collaboration tools. Yet progress remains uneven. Local actors still report limited influence in upstream decisions. Funding continues to favour international organisations. Hyper-prioritisation, while pragmatic, risks sidelining protection and longer-term solutions. Internal politics during the transition have further slowed meaningful change.

The core critique remains valid: without real redistribution of power, risk, and resources—and without a serious re-examination of the UN’s operational role—the Reset risks becoming an organised way of doing less with less. Internal survival politics and top-down guidance only reinforce that danger.

The people living through today’s crises do not have the luxury of waiting for the next reform cycle. The Humanitarian Reset, reinforced by elements of UN80, has set a direction. Whether it becomes a genuine turning point depends on whether the system is willing to confront its own size, cost, complexity, and mandate—and choose relevance through enablement over institutional self-preservation.

#HumanitarianReset #UN80 #HumanitarianAid #UNReform #Localisation #AidEffectiveness

Private Sector Partnerships in Humanitarian and Development Work: Beyond the Logo on the Banner

In my more than 25 years of professional life, I have often felt that the humanitarian and development sector could benefit from greater corporate efficiency and culture. Procurement systems, logistical reach, technical skills and even marketing approaches used by the private sector can add significant value to the effectiveness of our work.

In the sector we frequently speak about private sector partnerships in polished language — shared value, leverage, innovation, scale. The reality, in my experience, is both more promising and more complicated than the usual narratives suggest.

Over two decades of work in emergency response across South Asia, Africa and the Middle East, I have engaged with companies such as Unilever, Mentor (Unilever’s marketing agency in Africa), Procter & Gamble, and Hindustan Construction Company, among others. These collaborations ranged from the supply of non-food items in crisis settings to more strategic efforts aimed at longer-term outcomes. What stayed with me was not the size of the contribution, but the conditions under which these partnerships either added real value or remained largely symbolic.

What the partnerships looked like in practice

In several responses — including in Sri Lanka, India, Bangladesh and Kenya — collaboration with Unilever focused on the provision of essential hygiene and non-food items. In high-pressure settings, reliable supply chains and quality products matter. When private sector partners could move quickly and maintain standards, they filled gaps that traditional humanitarian pipelines sometimes struggled to close. The logistics support these companies offered — in packaging, transportation and distribution — was often far beyond what most humanitarian or development agencies could perform on their own.

In Bangladesh, engagement with P&G and Hindustan Construction Company took place in a complex operating environment marked by large-scale displacement and the need for both immediate relief and more durable solutions. Hindustan Construction Company’s high-end civil engineering team proved particularly valuable during the monsoon season. We requested their support for building toilets and community infrastructure. The quality, efficiency and speed of their work exceeded what most humanitarian or development agencies could deliver under the same conditions.

In Africa, when we sought to promote the use of chlorine and strengthen basic hygiene messaging across programme areas, the support provided by Mentor (the advertising agency) was noticeably effective. We began to see behavioural changes in communities where we had struggled to achieve results for years.

These experiences reinforced a recurring theme: private sector actors often bring logistical strength, technical capacity and a results orientation that can complement the community reach and contextual knowledge of humanitarian organisations.

Yet the most useful partnerships were rarely those framed purely as corporate social responsibility exercises. They worked better when both sides were clear about mutual interests, accountable for delivery, and willing to adapt to the realities of crisis and recovery settings.

Lessons that stand out

• Clarity of purpose matters more than the size of the cheque: Partnerships that began with a vague desire to “do good” or gain visibility often under-delivered. Those that defined a specific problem — last-mile hygiene kit distribution, construction quality, supply reliability or behaviour change — and aligned incentives around solving it produced better outcomes.
• Private sector efficiency and humanitarian principles can coexist, but only with deliberate effort: Speed, cost-consciousness and scale are genuine strengths that companies can offer. At the same time, humanitarian work requires attention to dignity, inclusion, do-no-harm and community ownership. The tension between these logics is real. Partnerships succeed when both sides respect each other’s constraints rather than assuming one model can simply be transferred.
• Local context and community acceptance cannot be outsourced: Even the best products or construction capacity falter when communities are not engaged. I have seen infrastructure and supplies under-used or diverted when the partnership focused on delivery metrics rather than ownership and appropriateness. Technical quality and community relevance must travel together.  
• Longer-term value requires moving beyond transactional relationships: One-off contributions of goods or funds have their place in acute emergencies. More interesting possibilities emerge when companies engage on systems issues — supply chain resilience, local manufacturing, skills transfer, or supporting government and local institutions to maintain services after the external response scales down.
• Trust is built through delivery, not declarations: In high-stakes environments, credibility is earned by showing up consistently, meeting commitments, and being transparent when things go wrong. This applies equally to international NGOs, UN agencies and private sector partners.

A more useful frame

Much of the conversation about private sector engagement still revolves around funding gaps and corporate social responsibility. A more useful frame, in my view, is complementarity under pressure.

Humanitarian and development organisations often have deep community relationships, contextual understanding and a mandate to prioritise the most vulnerable. Private sector actors frequently have strengths in logistics, quality control, innovation and the ability to operate at scale. The most effective collaborations I witnessed treated these as complementary capabilities rather than hierarchical ones — where one side funds and the other implements, or where one side merely “adds value” to the other’s existing model.

When partnerships are designed around shared problem-solving rather than branding or compliance, they stand a better chance of contributing to both immediate response and longer-term resilience.

This does not mean every company is a natural partner, or that every collaboration will succeed. It does mean that dismissing the private sector as merely a source of resources, or romanticising it as a source of automatic innovation, both miss the point. The real work lies in the middle: clear-eyed assessment of what each party can reliably deliver, honest conversation about risks and incentives, and a shared commitment to outcomes that matter to the people we aim to serve.

From emergency response to long-term resilience: HDP Nexus in practice

In humanitarian work, the most visible moment is usually the peak of a crisis — the surge of needs, the rapid scale-up, the urgency of saving lives. Yet after more than two decades of coordinating and leading WASH responses across Ethiopia, Bangladesh, South Sudan, Nigeria and other contexts, I have come to believe that the real test of our work often comes later: when the emergency begins to downgrade.

That transition — from acute response to longer-term resilience — is where the Humanitarian-Development-Peace (HDP) Nexus stops being a framework on paper and becomes a practical discipline. Lessons from Ethiopia Coordinating the national and regional WASH Cluster in Ethiopia during successive droughts, cholera outbreaks and conflict responses made this lesson very concrete. In the acute phase, the priority was clear: deliver life-saving water, sanitation and hygiene services as quickly as possible through a large number of partners. As the intensity of the crisis eased in different regions, the questions changed. How do we hand over responsibilities? How do we strengthen government systems rather than create parallel ones? How do we reduce the likelihood that the next shock will require the same level of external response? One approach that proved particularly valuable in this shift was Community-Led Total Sanitation (CLTS). Instead of focusing primarily on constructing toilets, CLTS emphasised triggering collective behaviour change and community ownership. This helped address open defecation in a way that emergency hardware alone could not sustain. It also created a stronger foundation for longer-term sanitation outcomes once the emergency phase declined. When communities themselves decided that open defecation was unacceptable, the results were more durable than externally driven construction targets. The transition required deliberate effort: aligning partners with government priorities, supporting national and regional systems, investing in localisation of coordination structures, and linking emergency response planning with contingency and resilience frameworks. Insights from Bangladesh A similar pattern emerged in Bangladesh while leading a large multi-sectoral response that included significant WASH components. In the midst of the Rohingya crisis response, we undertook a structured learning review. The purpose was not only to improve the ongoing emergency operation, but to generate insights that could inform three-year programming. The review helped shift the conversation from pure emergency coverage toward pathways that involved government institutions, local partners and host communities more meaningfully. It reinforced the importance of designing responses that could evolve rather than simply end when funding cycles changed.

Local-led coordination in Nigeria

More recent experience in northeast Nigeria reinforced these lessons in a different context. Leading WASH sector coordination across the BAY states meant working with more than 100 local NGOs and dozens of partners while advancing localisation and the broader Humanitarian Reset agenda.

A one-size-fits-all approach does not work in complex, protracted crises. What proved essential was a framework for local-led coordination that leveraged existing local structures for more tailored and sustainable responses. Key actions included:

• Developing coordination toolkits, online resources and workshops to strengthen capacity and help preserve institutional memory.
• Integrating risk alerts and contingency planning into coordination processes so that teams could move from reaction toward more proactive crisis management.
• Adapting coordination approaches to different types of crisis and deliberately engaging local and traditional leaders to build trust, accountability and community acceptance.

When coordination is rooted in local leadership, trust and adaptability, the outcomes are more likely to be both effective in the short term and sustainable beyond the emergency phase.

What consistently made the difference

Across these and other contexts, a few principles stood out:

• Treat transition as a deliberate process, not an afterthought that begins only when funding declines.
• Align with government systems from the beginning, rather than treating national and local authorities as secondary actors.
• Invest in localisation of coordination so that local organisations, institutions and traditional structures can progressively take the lead.
• Use approaches that build ownership, such as CLTS, instead of creating dependency on external construction and maintenance.
• Link emergency tools with longer-term planning — connecting response plans, contingency planning, risk alerts and resilience frameworks so they reinforce one another.
• Keep communities at the centre. Solutions that ignore local priorities, capacities and leadership rarely survive beyond the project cycle.

The Nexus as daily practice

The HDP Nexus is sometimes discussed in abstract terms. In practice, it means designing programmes that save lives today while simultaneously reducing future humanitarian needs. It means recognising that governments will remain long after international agencies scale down. And it means accepting that quality, ownership and systems strengthening are not luxuries to be added later — they are part of effective emergency response itself.

The programmes that performed best in my experience were those that began planning for the “day after” while still responding to the emergency. They treated the transition not as a separate phase, but as an integral part of the response.

The question I continue to ask myself, and that I offer to colleagues in the sector, is this: How deliberately are we designing today’s emergency response so that it contributes to tomorrow’s resilience?

Working with governments is the real lever for scale in WASH.

 Over the years, I’ve learned that the most sustainable impact doesn’t come from delivering services alone — it comes from enabling government systems to own and expand them.

In Ethiopia, while coordinating the WASH Cluster at national and regional levels during successive drought, cholera, and conflict responses, a core part of the role was aligning partners with government priorities, strengthening national and regional systems, and gradually shifting from pure emergency coordination toward resilience and institutional capacity.

In Bangladesh, while leading a multi-million-dollar response and coordinating 38+ partners in Cox’s Bazar, we worked closely with local authorities and host community institutions. The goal was never just emergency coverage — it was creating pathways for government leadership and longer-term integration.

Similar lessons emerged while engaging with the Palestinian Water Authority, municipalities, and other national structures. Advocacy and technical support had to move hand-in-hand with resource mobilisation if we wanted lasting results.

Even earlier in my career in India (with WASMO and other programmes), I saw how technical support to state and local institutions — including Gram Panchayats — multiplies reach far beyond what any single organisation can deliver alone.

A few reflections that stay with me:

• Government partnership is not a checkbox. It requires consistent presence, technical credibility, and genuine respect for existing systems.
• Localisation of coordination works best when it strengthens — not bypasses — national architecture.
• Real scale happens when public resources and government delivery mechanisms are successfully leveraged.
• Whether international agencies or the UN respond to a crisis or not, the government will respond and will remain. Supporting their systems is therefore not optional — it is essential.

#WASH #Localisation #GovernmentPartnership #Humanitarian #Development #SouthAsia #InstitutionalStrengthening #WASHCluster

What does “quality” really mean in WASH programme delivery?

In emergency settings, the pressure to act fast is intense. But after more than two decades coordinating and leading WASH responses across Ethiopia, Bangladesh, Palestine, South Sudan, and beyond, I’ve learned that speed without quality rarely delivers lasting impact.

True quality in WASH is not just about meeting technical standards on paper. It is about three things working together:

• Community-centred approaches – Designing and delivering services with, not just for, the people who will use them. Hygiene promotion, behavioural change, and local ownership are as critical as infrastructure.
• Cost-effectiveness – Achieving the greatest possible reach and sustainability with limited resources. This means prioritising interventions that governments and communities can maintain, not just what looks impressive in a proposal.
• Balancing urgency with standards – Moving quickly in a crisis while still protecting dignity, safety, and long-term viability. Compromising too far on quality in the name of speed often creates bigger problems later.

I have seen many toilets turn into storerooms simply because the community was not involved, or because the quality of construction did not match their expectations. After contributing to the construction of over a million toilets and helping provide safe drinking water to more than a million people over the last 25 years, I feel strongly about this: any infrastructure we build must be grounded in genuine community engagement. We must empower communities, respect their demands, and actively promote ownership of the facilities.

In my experience coordinating multi-partner WASH clusters and leading large-scale responses, the programmes that performed best were those that kept communities at the centre, used resources wisely, and treated standards as non-negotiable even under pressure.

Quality is not a luxury in humanitarian or development WASH work. It is the foundation for both immediate impact and sustainable outcomes.

What does quality mean to you in WASH programme delivery?

#WASH #Humanitarian #ProgrammeQuality #Localisation #CommunityCentred #Development

25 years in WASH — what I wish I knew earlier

Looking back on more than two decades of coordinating and leading WASH programmes across Ethiopia, Bangladesh, Palestine, South Sudan, India and beyond, there are a few lessons I wish someone had told me earlier in my career.

1. Speed without ownership is temporary.
I have seen toilets turn into storerooms and water systems fall into disrepair simply because communities were not genuinely involved. Technical quality matters, but without real community engagement and ownership, even the best-built infrastructure fails.

2. Governments will always be there — we won’t.
Whether international agencies show up or not, national and local governments remain. Supporting their systems is not optional if we care about scale and sustainability.

3. Your title is not your identity.
Roles end. Badges dissolve. The work continues, but you are not the work. Learning to act without clinging too tightly to outcomes — or to the identity the role gave you — brings a quieter, more sustainable form of purpose.

4. Access often matters more than pure merit.
In funding ecosystems, relationships, networks and visibility frequently open doors that strong results alone cannot. This is a structural reality, not a personal failing. Understanding it early helps you navigate more effectively.

5. Resource mobilisation is only half the job.
Securing funding is important. Ensuring that money translates into quality, accountable, and maintainable services is the harder — and more important — part.

6. Localisation is not a slogan.
It works only when we deliberately strengthen (rather than bypass) national coordination structures and local institutions.

7. Leadership is about enabling others.
Managing large teams in high-pressure contexts taught me that the best results come when you create space for people to lead, not when you try to control every decision.

If I could speak to my younger self starting out in WASH/Public Health, I would say: prioritise people and systems over projects, hold your roles lightly, and remember that the work is bigger than any single organisation or title.

#WASH #Humanitarian #Leadership #CareerReflection #Localisation #Development #LessonsLearned