On November 19, 2025, the world marked World Toilet Day — not with ceremonies, but with quiet outrage. While the United Nations urged global attention to the basic human right to sanitation, an opinion piece from The New Humanitarian cut through the diplomatic language: "Giving a shit about genocide on World Toilet Day." It wasn’t a metaphor. It was a reckoning. In the Gaza Strip, where 2.3 million people live under siege, and across the vast, scarred lands of Darfur, sanitation systems have been reduced to rubble — not by accident, but by design. The connection between toilets and survival has never been more brutal, or more undeniable.
When Toilets Become Weapons
The World Toilet Day observance, established by UN General Assembly Resolution A/RES/67/291 in 2013, has always been about dignity. But in 2025, it became a mirror. The United Nations’ official message — "We’ll always need the toilet. No matter what lies ahead, we will always rely on sanitation to protect us" — rang hollow in places where water pipes are bombed, latrines are bulldozed, and children defecate in open trenches because there’s no other option. In Gaza, over 80% of water infrastructure has been damaged or destroyed since the war escalated after October 7, 2023. In Darfur, where conflict erupted on April 15, 2023, more than 1.2 million people have been displaced, many without access to clean water or waste disposal for over two years.It’s not just about disease — though cholera outbreaks in both regions have surged. It’s about control. When you deny people the ability to manage their waste, you strip them of autonomy. You make survival a daily negotiation with filth and fear. The United Nations Water program, based in Geneva, coordinates global advocacy, but on the ground, the response is fragmented, underfunded, and often blocked by military restrictions.
The Opinion That Broke the Silence
"Genocidal wars in Gaza and Darfur not only force people to move away from homes, schools, and..." — those were the opening words of the anonymous author’s piece published by The New Humanitarian on the same day as the UN observance. The ellipsis wasn’t an accident. It was a mirror of what’s missing: the rest of the sentence, the rest of the lives, the rest of the dignity.The piece didn’t mince words. It called the destruction of sanitation infrastructure a tactic of war. And it wasn’t wrong. In Gaza, the UN estimates that 96% of drinking water is unsafe. In Darfur, aid groups report that children are drinking from contaminated ponds because wells have been poisoned or seized. These aren’t byproducts of conflict. They’re strategic outcomes. When hospitals can’t sterilize equipment, when schools shut down because there’s no running water, when mothers walk miles to find a latrine — that’s not chaos. That’s calculation.
The United Nations released its 2025 World Toilet Day materials in 15 languages — Arabic, Swahili, Ukrainian, Hindi, Spanish, and more — a powerful gesture of inclusivity. But language doesn’t fix broken pipes. The fact that The New Humanitarian, headquartered in Geneva, chose to publish this piece on the same day as the UN’s campaign wasn’t coincidence. It was a challenge. A demand: Don’t just talk about toilets. See who’s being denied them.
Why This Matters Beyond the headlines
Sustainable Development Goal 6 — ensuring clean water and sanitation for all by 2030 — is already off track. But in conflict zones, it’s not just off track. It’s been erased. The United Nations has spent years building frameworks, funding projects, and hosting global summits. Yet in Gaza and Darfur, those frameworks collapse under the weight of armed violence.Here’s the uncomfortable truth: sanitation is the first thing to go in war. And the last thing to come back. In Syria, after a decade of conflict, only 30% of water systems were fully functional by 2024. In Yemen, cholera killed over 4,000 people in 2023 — most of them children. These aren’t isolated tragedies. They’re patterns. And they’re escalating.
The United Nations claims to protect human rights. But when its own agencies are denied access to deliver water tanks, when aid convoys are turned back at checkpoints, when the world looks away — those rights become paperwork. The New Humanitarian didn’t just report on the crisis. It forced a confrontation. If you care about human dignity, you can’t ignore what happens when people can’t use the toilet.
What Comes Next?
The next World Toilet Day is already scheduled for November 19, 2026. But what will it look like? Will the United Nations finally pressure member states to hold parties accountable for targeting sanitation infrastructure — a violation of international humanitarian law? Will donors redirect funds from symbolic campaigns to actual water trucking, sewage repair, and mobile latrine deployment?Or will another year pass with another slogan, another multilingual webpage, another silent plea?
There’s a reason the New Humanitarian chose such a blunt title. "Giving a shit" isn’t crude — it’s necessary. Because if we’re not willing to get our hands dirty for people who can’t even clean themselves, then we’re not serious about human rights. We’re just good at posting.
Background: A Decade of Silence
World Toilet Day began as a grassroots campaign in 2001, led by a Singaporean activist named Jack Sim. It wasn’t until 2013 that the United Nations adopted it. Since then, it’s grown into a global movement — but mostly in theory. The funding for sanitation in conflict zones remains a fraction of what’s allocated to food or medicine. In 2024, only 4% of humanitarian aid for water and sanitation went to areas under active conflict, according to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs.Meanwhile, the New Humanitarian — founded in 1995 and long known for its fearless reporting on forgotten crises — has consistently highlighted how war erodes the most basic systems. Their 2023 investigation into water contamination in northern Mali found that 78% of displaced families had no access to safe toilets. In 2024, they documented how Sudanese soldiers used latrines as interrogation sites. These aren’t footnotes. They’re evidence.
What happened in Gaza and Darfur in 2025 wasn’t a new development. It was the culmination of years of neglect.
Frequently Asked Questions
How does the destruction of sanitation infrastructure qualify as a war crime?
Under the Geneva Conventions, deliberately targeting civilian infrastructure — including water and sanitation systems — is a war crime. The UN’s own legal experts have stated that destroying latrines, poisoning wells, or blocking access to clean water to punish or displace populations violates Article 54 of Additional Protocol I. In Gaza and Darfur, multiple UN reports confirm that sanitation systems have been systematically targeted, not just collateral damage.
Why hasn’t the UN taken stronger action?
The UN lacks enforcement power. While the Security Council can impose sanctions, permanent members — including the U.S., Russia, and China — have repeatedly blocked resolutions condemning Israel or Sudan over sanitation violations. Meanwhile, humanitarian access in both Gaza and Darfur is routinely denied by military authorities. The UN can issue statements, but it can’t force entry. That’s the gap between advocacy and accountability.
Who is affected most by the sanitation crisis?
Children under five, pregnant women, and the elderly. In Gaza, 1 in 3 children under five suffered from diarrhea in 2025 due to contaminated water. In Darfur, women and girls risk sexual violence when walking long distances to find safe latrines. The collapse of sanitation doesn’t just spread disease — it deepens gender inequality and infant mortality, turning survival into a daily gamble.
What’s being done on the ground to help?
Local NGOs and international groups like Mercy Corps and the Red Crescent are deploying emergency latrines and water purification units. But they’re overwhelmed. In Gaza, only 12 mobile water units are operational out of 150 needed. In Darfur, aid workers report that 80% of their supplies are seized or delayed. Without safe passage and funding, even the best plans fail. The crisis isn’t unsolvable — it’s unaddressed.
Is this connected to broader patterns of human rights violations?
Absolutely. The destruction of sanitation infrastructure is part of a wider pattern: targeting hospitals, schools, and markets. The UN’s own 2024 report on violations in conflict zones found that sanitation attacks increased by 40% from 2022 to 2024. This isn’t random. It’s a method of collective punishment — designed to make life unbearable so people flee. And it’s working.
What can ordinary people do?
Pressure your government to support UN resolutions that demand humanitarian access in Gaza and Darfur. Donate to organizations like the International Rescue Committee or Médecins Sans Frontières that deliver water and sanitation aid directly. And don’t let the phrase "sanitation crisis" become background noise. When you flush your toilet, remember: for millions, that’s not a privilege — it’s a daily fight for survival.