Building Local Power in the Time of U.S. Abandonment: Why Real Localization Must Go Beyond Buzzwords

The Myth and the Moment of Localization

Localization has long been a buzzword in humanitarian spaces—touted as the antidote to neo-colonial aid structures. Yet, in practice, it too often replicates the very power it claims to dismantle. True localization requires more than subcontracting: it demands humility, patience, shared power, and community-rooted design—or at least a true understanding of how that community functions. The U.S. retreat from aid has created a vacuum—but also an opportunity: for local actors to demand genuine authority, not just the illusion of inclusion, where they not only implement but they lead.

Localization in aid has its roots in the Grand Bargain: an agreement between organizations and large donors launched in 2016 in order to improve the effectiveness and efficiency of humanitarian assistance. Localization aims to empower local stakeholders—local officials, community leaders, and grassroots organizations—to lead and deliver humanitarian assistance through strengthened local systems. Consequently, localization can contribute to recovery and long-term stability and development. The sector has seen improved coordination efforts (but not close to what it should be!) and increased multi-year funding, which is vital for social behavior change programs like the ones I managed. However, on the ground, localization often results in international players imposing programs that have not sufficiently taken into account local stakeholders' voices—not at the national level, much less at the micro levels of state and town. Nor are these programs flexible enough to adapt to the challenges and constraints faced by local actors.

Power, Politics, and the Metrics of Misalignment

Frameworks are often developed at regional levels that are strongly influenced by politicians who are beholden to taxpaying voters. Thus, large donors are often motivated by policy issues that are relevant to their constituents—and not necessarily what is relevant to the region or country where programs will be implemented. There are country-level teams—both on the donor and implementing sides—to adapt and adjust programs to align with regional and national priorities, but again, they are often beholden to government Ministries who are sometimes (or maybe often) out of touch with their electorate. This can be the case in countries that have a political party that has been in governance for decades.

Once, a donor asked why our gender-based violence (GBV) program wasn’t addressing sexual violence against men and boys. The answer was simple: conflict-related sexual violence disproportionately affects women and girls—this is a documented fact across emergencies globally. Moreover, the cultural and religious context in our program area barely allowed discussions about GBV even as it affected women. Talking about male survivors—particularly when same-sex sexual contact was considered haram (forbidden)—was impossible. The donor’s suggestion revealed a disconnect between abstract policy frameworks and grounded realities. That same disconnect shapes the metrics of success and sets implementers up to fail.

In my experience with protection programming, there is a repeating cycle: an international staff person enters the organization and is tasked with conducting a rapid assessment that will collect data, qualitative and quantitative, to inform or update a project design. However, rapid assessments rarely capture the nuanced dynamics of a community—especially one that has already answered the same questions multiple times over a short period.

The program, once designed and approved, will be implemented by a local partner, often forced to do so within a short period of 4–6 months, as the finalization and approval of the work plan takes anywhere from 2–3 months. The last 3 months is a rush to implement activities that have been delayed due to waiting to recruit needed staff within the local partner organization (or bureaucratic loopholes within the government agency) or geographic access constraints that made it impossible to reach the target population.

There is little time to show new community organizations the ins and outs of healthy financial management or how to diversify their funding streams. The local partner has little time to understand how what they are doing fits into a longer strategic plan for the stabilization and development of the community—and effectively, the country. Often, the international manager—within the international organization or donor country team—leaves, usually within 6–12 months, and the cycle begins again. This happens repeatedly—sometimes with the same population, just under different logos.

The False Promise of Scale

The majority of funding comes from global North countries to be implemented in global majority countries—regionas marked by not only national but hyper-local diversity.  Yet, aid programs face pressure to “scale”—to reach as many people as possible with limited funds. While it’s reasonable to maximize public resources, scale often comes at the cost of sustainability. Every dollar spent on GBV prevention or child protection is worthwhile. But a localized approach, while admirable in principle, collapses in practice when we refuse to invest the time and trust needed to do it right.

A New Opportunity, If We Seize It

I know localization can work—because I was part of a long-standing program that succeeded because it took the time to do things differently. It established its programmatic building blocks by:

1. becoming an integral part of the community

2. establishing a strong relationship with local government protection service providers

3. mentoring both grassroots organizations and individuals

4. establishing strong community groups according to the communities’ criteria

Because these components were developed over time, with direct inputs from the community it served, when the organization had to leave—after more than 3 years working in that area—the community-based organizations and networks were able to continue 85% of the programming on their own.

What did it take? It took:

• The staff of the international organization working and living in that community, without high turnover.

•  Continuity of services, bolstered by the local staff and community that was mentored and coached by the international organization.

•  Patience and humility to acknowledge that some interventions do not work—and adapting.

• Courage to face our donors and tell them we could not do what they asked when we signed the agreement—that we needed to change. It took the donor to say, “Yes, we see what you are seeing, and we will adapt.”

• Good communication and a commitment to make change that would benefit the communities we served.

We were lucky to have an understanding USAID country team that worked with us to make the adjustments. 

Now that funding is seriously curtailed, there will be increased pressure to “localize.” In effect, this will mean fewer international staff on the ground—but not necessarily more local voice in program design. Current programs and projects, especially in humanitarian-peace-development nexus contexts, operating through longer-term strategic planning documents, will need to be adjusted—again, often without taking local voices into account.

Feminist Frontlines

Localization is also a vehicle for feminist transformation. Women and women-led organizations are at the forefront of knowing the ins and outs of what is happening in their communities. It is often a woman—referred to as Aunty or Grandmother—who holds moral authority.

And when it is time to implement, it is often women-led organizations that gets the job done. In Mozambique, I inherited a project that was eight months behind schedule with only four months left to deliver. We met the deadline. Why? Because the women-led organization we partnered with understood the social fabric. Their knowledge and trust made it possible.

Reclaiming the Terms of Engagement

Current funding gaps left by the United States’ exit from the aid community provide an opportunity for local stakeholders to insist on greater say and autonomy in how programs are implemented—and to carve a stronger niche for themselves. Here are a number of steps local stakeholders can take to better position themselves in such programming linked to social behavior change:

• National, community, and women-led organizations can lobby their central/federal ministries to require mentoring and shadowing for local or field staff. For example, finance staff can shadow the organization/agency with fiscal agency to adequately understand processes and tools for sound financial management and utilization of disbursed funds.

  
  

• Program management should not just be the international agency conducting monitoring visits. Implementation can be a true collaboration. Capacity development should combine the varied expertise of all participating stakeholders, thus bringing the assets of all partners. Furthermore, training should not be primarily for locally based institutional staff, but for such actors as community mobilizers, midwives, or women and youth leaders from hard-to-reach areas. We tend to train the same individuals over and over, while those from hard-to-reach areas may produce smaller training groups—but perhaps a bigger impact, due to the number of people they as a sole provider reach.

  
  

• National organizations can make greater inputs on how interventions must truly be local. Given ethnic and religious differences that influence the culture and day-to-day life in many communities in global majority countries, scaling up or scaled activities do not always align with what will improve the lives of those who are to benefit from the program. A common thread must run through all interventions in order to measure impact. However, more can be done to adapt activities to the local context. This is where local stakeholders must define what works—and what doesn’t.

  
  

These may sound obvious, but in many contexts, local voices remain constrained—either by structural power dynamics or the fear of losing funding. Donors and implementing partners alike must ask harder questions: Do these activities make sense here? And are we willing to change if they don’t? 

We must not confuse proximity with power, nor presence with partnership. True localization begins not when internationals step back, but when communities step forward—on their terms.

If such understanding were in place, perhaps USAID—as well as other U.S. federal agencies that were shuttered—would still be providing essential support and opportunities to underserved populations. Because people on the ground would have understood what they were for, what they achieved and would have fought to keep them.

What does it really mean to step aside—and still stay accountable? How do we make sure “localization” isn’t just code for doing more with less?