Why did I feel it was interesting to interview Babatunde? He is the Country Director for the International Rescue Committee (IRC) in Nigeria, bringing more than 25 years of leadership experience across the non-profit and private sectors in areas such as environment, development, civilian protection, and humanitarian response. His career spans senior roles with Oxfam Great Britain, Save the Children, and the Center for Civilians in Conflict, and he combines technical expertise in agriculture and global business with a deep commitment to communities affected by crisis.
This interview offers a compelling look at how his personal history—growing up in a family shaped by displacement—intersects with his professional mission to restore dignity and resilience in conflict-affected communities. It’s an opportunity to hear candid reflections on the challenges of delivering aid in volatile contexts, the balance between immediate relief and long-term solutions, and his vision for a future where humanitarian work is locally led and sustainably grounded.
Here’s our exchange:
Where are you originally from, and what was your childhood like there?
I am originally from Delta State, Nigeria, born and raised in a large family that lived in different parts of the country, particularly in the north and southwest. My childhood was shaped by warmth, laughter, and a sense of belonging, despite the turbulence my parents experienced due to displacement during the civil war of the 1960s. I was the youngest of 14 children, and our home overflowed with love, support, and a deeply ingrained culture of generosity. Our house was always filled with siblings, cousins, uncles, and extended family, which taught me early on the values of community and shared responsibility.
What was your family dynamic, and who were the key figures in your upbringing?
My family was close-knit and spirited. My parents were the anchors of our home. Despite losing their home and livelihoods due to displacement during the civil war, they never allowed that experience to harden their hearts. Instead, they became more compassionate and generous. My father was a central figure in my upbringing, a man of quiet strength and integrity who taught me to serve others with humility. My mother’s resilience, love, and kindness also played a key role in shaping the man I am today.
Who were the most influential people in your childhood, and what lessons did you learn from them?
Without a doubt, my parents were the most influential figures in my life. They lived with empathy, choosing to give even when they didn’t have much. My father always reminded me that leadership is about service and that one’s legacy is built not by what you gather, but by what you give. One of the most impactful moments in my life was when I explained my work in the humanitarian sector to my father. He paused and said he was happy I was working with the kind of organization that had once given them hope during their displacement. That moment solidified my life’s mission.
What is one of your earliest memories, and how do you think it shaped who you are today?
One of my earliest memories is watching my parents share our limited food with neighbors and displaced families in our community. That act of selflessness, carried out with no expectation of reward, has never left me. It taught me that generosity is not about abundance but about choice. It shaped my belief in humanity and inspired my decision to dedicate my life to humanitarian work.
I also remember a time when I was drifting away from education. My father sat me down and said, “Education gives you the liberty to dream and then puts the compass in your hands to find that dream.” That was all I needed to hear to get back on track. Whenever I think of children out of school, I wish I could give them the same opportunities I had—and that same compass to find their dreams.
Were there any cultural or family traditions from your childhood that helped define your values?
Absolutely. One key tradition was the communal sharing of meals. We never ate alone—everyone was welcome at our table: family, friends, strangers. This instilled in me the principle that no one should be left behind. Another tradition was storytelling. My parents, especially my mother, would recount stories of courage, faith, and survival, both from our ancestry and from their own lives. These stories became the foundation of my values: resilience, empathy, service, and hope.
What motivated you to pursue your studies?
I was drawn to the intersection of social justice, economics, and development. I pursued studies in these fields because I saw them as tools to change lives—especially for people like my parents, who were affected by conflict. I wanted to understand the systems that create inequality and, more importantly, how to dismantle them. Education and advocacy became my way of gaining the skills to drive structural change.
At what age did you start working, and what did your first job involve?
I started working in my early twenties, after my first degree. My first job was assisting a local NGO focused on the environment and youth development. I helped organize community events, deliver training, and support mobilization efforts. It was modest work, but it showed me the power of community organizing and the impact of even the smallest interventions. It was also the first time I realized I could be part of something larger than myself.
I also initiated and launched a program called Walk for Nature, an event held every 2nd of February to mark World Wetlands Day. Today, it is highly supported by notable corporations and individuals, raising awareness and accountability for environmental management.
How would you describe your current job and its responsibilities?
As the Country Director for the International Rescue Committee in Nigeria, I lead a team of over 600 staff members working across multiple sectors: health, nutrition, education, protection, governance, and economic recovery. My role involves strategy development, partnership management, staff welfare, program delivery, advocacy, and ensuring compliance with humanitarian standards. At its core, it’s about listening—listening to communities, to partners, and to staff—and turning that listening into action.
How do you navigate the tension between providing immediate humanitarian relief and building long-term resilience in communities that remain chronically unstable?
We adopt a dual approach. On one hand, we respond swiftly to emergencies with life-saving interventions; on the other, we invest in system strengthening, community empowerment, and livelihood development. For example, while we provide therapeutic feeding to children suffering from acute malnutrition, we simultaneously train local health workers and support agricultural cooperatives. The goal is to move from relief to recovery and ultimately to resilience. It’s a delicate balance, but one that is essential for sustainable impact.
What are the biggest operational challenges the IRC faces in northeastern Nigeria, and how do you adapt your strategies in response to rapidly shifting security dynamics?
The northeast presents multiple challenges, including active conflict, infrastructural collapse, and high levels of displacement. One of the biggest hurdles is ensuring staff safety while maintaining access to communities in need. We continuously adapt through localized risk analysis, flexible programming, remote management where necessary, and close coordination with local partners. We also invest in real-time security updates and agile decision-making mechanisms.
With over 2.1 million people internally displaced, how does the IRC ensure that aid delivery is both equitable and sensitive to the complex relationships between displaced populations and host communities?
We adopt a community-based approach that involves both displaced populations and host communities in needs assessments, program design, and implementation. We’ve learned that exclusion breeds conflict, so we work to ensure shared benefits—for example, by constructing water points that serve both populations or creating community leadership councils that represent all voices. Dialogue and transparency are key.
To what extent has political instability in Nigeria affected your ability to carry out humanitarian work, and how do you manage government relations at both local and federal levels?
Political instability can affect coordination, funding flows, and policy implementation. However, we’ve built strong relationships with government stakeholders at all levels. We align our goals with national and state development plans and participate in joint planning processes. Through trust-building and advocacy, we ensure that our interventions are seen not as external impositions but as collaborative efforts for national progress.
How do you measure the impact of your interventions in health, nutrition, and education in such a volatile and resource-constrained environment?
We use a mix of quantitative and qualitative indicators, including health outcomes such as reductions in child mortality, nutrition recovery rates, and school enrollment, progression, and retention rates. We also conduct regular beneficiary feedback surveys and community scorecards to capture perception-based impact. Success is not only in the numbers but also in stories of transformation—like the mother who can now feed her child, the girl who returned to school after barriers were removed, or the mother’s smile after her child recovered from near death only days earlier.
The IRC aims to reach 1.5 million people per year. Beyond numbers, how do you define success in a setting where needs are vast and continuously evolving?
Success for me is about restoring dignity, rebuilding trust, and strengthening hope. It’s when people who once felt forgotten begin to believe in a better future. It’s also when our programs are owned by communities—when they run clinics, manage schools, or mediate conflicts without external help. Sustainability and community ownership are the ultimate markers of success.
What are some of the most pressing gaps in Nigeria’s humanitarian response that the IRC alone cannot fill? Who needs to step in?
No single organization can meet all the needs. Major gaps remain in mental health services, protection for women and girls, infrastructure development, and food security. Governments, private sector actors, and multilateral agencies must engage more intentionally and step up. Collaboration is no longer a choice—it’s a necessity.
Given Nigeria’s rank of 163 out of 191 on the Human Development Index, how do you advocate for structural change while focusing on emergency response?
We advocate by using data and evidence from our programs to influence policy. We also engage in coalitions that push for systemic reforms in healthcare, education, and social protection. For example, our policy briefs on out-of-school children have been shared with the Ministry of Education. While responding to emergencies, we always keep an eye on the bigger picture.
What strategies do you use to retain and protect frontline staff working in high-risk areas, especially in zones affected by insurgency or banditry?
Staff welfare is a top priority. We provide comprehensive security training, psychosocial support, hazard allowances, and rotation policies to reduce burnout. We also ensure that staff have a voice in decisions affecting their safety. Retention is about care, recognition, and professional growth.
How do you incorporate local voices and community leadership into program design, particularly in areas where trust in institutions is low?
We form Community Advisory Boards, hold regular town halls, and use participatory tools like focus group discussions and human-centered design. We don’t just ask communities what they need; we ask how they want us to support them and how we can work together. Trust is built through listening, responsiveness, and consistency.
What role do you see international donors and global policymakers playing in shaping both the scope and limitations of your work in Nigeria?
Donors shape priorities through funding but also influence how flexible we can be. We urge them to provide multi-year, unrestricted funding that allows for adaptive programming. Policymakers must also champion equity, ensuring that funding reaches the hardest-hit regions. Their decisions can either enable or constrain innovation.
How has the IRC adapted its programming in response to the increasing impact of climate change on food security and displacement in Nigeria?
We now integrate climate resilience into all programming. For instance, we promote drought-resistant crops, support dry-season farming, and train communities in climate-smart practices. We also conduct early warning assessments and disaster preparedness drills. Climate change is no longer a future threat—it’s a present crisis.
How do you handle ethical dilemmas when the demand for assistance exceeds available resources, forcing choices between equally urgent needs?
These moments are painful. We rely on transparent criteria, community consultations, and ethical frameworks to guide our decisions. We explain the constraints clearly and advocate for more resources. The key is to act justly, communicate openly, and remain accountable. For example, through our Signpost Project we create platforms to bring services closer to those in need by providing information access.
What lessons have you learned in Nigeria that could inform IRC operations in other complex humanitarian contexts across Africa?
Localization is not a buzzword—it’s a strategy. Communities know what they need. Our role is to amplify, not override. Flexibility is also crucial; rigid models don’t work in fluid contexts. And above all, dignity must be the foundation of every intervention. People are not just beneficiaries; they are partners.
Looking forward, what gives you hope for Nigeria’s humanitarian future, and what keeps you up at night?
Hope comes from the resilience of the Nigerian people—their will to survive, rebuild, and thrive. What keeps me up is the scale of unmet needs and the shrinking funding landscape. But every time I visit the field and see a child smiling, a mother relieved, or a youth empowered, I am reminded that we must keep going.
If you had the power to solve one of humanity’s major problems, which one would you choose and why?
I would choose inequality. It fuels almost every other crisis: conflict, poverty, poor health, lack of education. Solving inequality would unlock human potential and reduce suffering across the board.
What do you think humans owe each other, if anything at all?
We owe each other kindness, respect, and solidarity. No one chooses where they are born or what crises they must endure. Our shared humanity demands empathy and action. I always tell my team to reflect on this: if the tables were turned, would I be satisfied with the service I am getting? We need to treat everyone with dignity.
Could you share something from 2024 that didn’t go as expected and what you learned from it?
In 2024, we launched an ambitious nutrition program that was delayed due to funding setbacks. While frustrating, it taught us the value of patience and the need for local partnerships. We restructured, involved key stakeholders, and still delivered impact—though not in the way we initially planned.
What personal goals do you have for 2025?
Personally, I aim to mentor more young leaders within the humanitarian space and take steps toward writing a book on resilience and leadership in fragile contexts. I also plan to spend more intentional time with my family, my greatest source of joy and balance.
Imagine you are in the final moments of your life. What work-related news would you like to hear, and why?
I would love to hear that IRC Nigeria had transitioned full ownership of its programs to local actors and that communities were thriving without external aid. That would mean we had done our job—not just to serve, but to empower and leave lasting change.