When violence erupted in Ethiopia’s Tigray region in 2020, it tore families and communities apart. Villages were burned, civilians were targeted and survivors bore the lasting wounds of war.
Misa was one of them. She lost two relatives and fled to a displacement camp. “I was desperate,” she recalled. “I witnessed so many killed along the way. Many who survived turned to alcohol, others even took their own lives.”
Adjusting her scarf and looking away, she added, “I could not carry the weight alone.”
For her — and thousands like her — the U.S.-based Center for Victims of Torture (CVT) became her lifeline. Counseling sessions helped her process the trauma, as did the support she received from her three teenage children in family settings with CVT.
Today, that fragile progress is at risk. U.S. funding cuts are forcing CVT to scale back operations.
“We were supposed to complete the healing process,” her Ethiopian-based provider, Frezgi Gebrekristos, said. “Then suddenly, we had to stop. Temporary funds have filled some gaps, but they won’t last. For us practitioners, it’s devastating; for the community, far worse.”
“Temporary funds have filled some gaps, but they won’t last. For us practitioners, it’s devastating; for the community, far worse.”
Misa’s hopes remain heartbreakingly modest: “I want my children to finish school and find jobs. I want to be a family again. That is all I want for us.”
A Fund on the Brink
For decades, those modest dreams were sustained by quiet U.S. investment through the UN Voluntary Fund for Victims of Torture (UNVFVT).
Housed within the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, the Fund uses its roughly $10 million annual budget to direct small but vital grants to just under 200 NGOs worldwide — from refugee camps like Misa’s in Tigray to rehabilitation centers across the U.S., where an estimated 1.3 million survivors call home.
“The objective is clear,” says Claudia Gerez Czitrom, Secretary of the Fund. “It’s to ensure support for people who have been subjected to torture so that they can recover and rebuild their lives.”
The model is cost-effective. On average, just $175 provides a survivor with a year of medical care, trauma counseling and legal aid. Yet while demand is surging — applications rose about 30 percent this year — the Fund’s budget is collapsing. With U.S. contributions halted and European donors shifting priorities, only $1.5 million is expected to be available for projects in 2026.
“It’s dire,” she warns. “For many survivors, this amounts to no care at all.”
America’s Outsized Role
The crisis is magnified because of America’s historic role. Since Congress passed the Torture Victims Relief Act in 1998, the U.S. has been the backbone of the Fund, covering up to 85 percent of its annual budget.
“The U.S. has historically been our biggest supporter,” Czitrom stresses. “Without that vital backing, our funding would shrink by more than 80 percent overnight — forcing centers across the U.S. to turn people away.”
“The U.S. has historically been our biggest supporter. Without that vital backing, our funding would shrink by more than 80 percent overnight — forcing centers across the U.S. to turn people away.”
Victor Madrigal-Borloz, a Trustee of the Fund and former UN Independent Expert, has worked on torture prevention and rehabilitation around the globe, and calls the Fund “irreplaceable.”
“Civil society organizations, many supported through the Fund, are the ones survivors trust,” he explained. “They provide food, legal aid, contact with loved ones and long-term rehabilitation — the very things state structures often failed to deliver. To cut support now is to abandon survivors at their most vulnerable moment.”
“To cut support now is to abandon survivors at their most vulnerable moment.”
Lives Already Interrupted
Neal Porter, Director of International Services at CVT, has seen the damage firsthand that resulted from the loss of U.S. government foreign aid funding. “We’ve already had to lay off or furlough roughly 75 percent of our staff,” he said. “We’ve closed programs in Jordan, where for years we served Iraqi and Syrian torture survivors. Clients were in the midst of sharing the worst of their trauma, and we had to abandon them. It was a violation of our own ethics and, in a very real sense, of American ideals.”
He likens it to a surgery halted mid-operation: “Imagine you’re on the table. A skilled team is carefully working to repair you. Then, over the loudspeaker, they’re ordered out of the room. You’re left open, exposed, unhealed. That’s what happened.”
Madrigal-Borloz shares that assessment. “The consequences of cuts have been immediate and painful,” he stresses. “In the U.S., survivors have already lost access to care. Internationally, rehabilitation centers providing lifesaving support are being forced to close and reduce services.”
Oversight and Accountability
Cuts to the Fund come as UN reformers demand greater accountability across the institution. Yet the Fund already operates under some of the UN’s strictest oversight. “Because of the nature of the grants we provide, we’re intimately involved in financial management at every site,” Czitrom explains. “We check the books, we talk to staff, and — most importantly — we talk to survivors. We want to know that every taxpayer and private donors’ dollar has a measurable impact.”
That’s also why the Fund is overseen by a Board of Trustees comprised of doctors, lawyers and human rights experts. Survivor-led groups and conflict-zone NGOs are prioritized. “It’s not an exaggeration to say these projects save lives,” says Czitrom.
Noting that rehabilitation has the added benefit of strengthening societies, Madrigal-Borloz adds, “Supporting the Fund isn’t charity. It’s an investment in the rule of law, in democracy and in America’s own values. Neglecting it weakens societies and emboldens perpetrators.”
“Supporting the Fund isn’t charity. It’s an investment in the rule of law, in democracy and in America’s own values. Neglecting it weakens societies and emboldens perpetrators.”
What’s more, because the Fund is housed within OHCHR, the Fund’s $10 million budget is directed to project-based, deliverable-driven work — exactly the kind of high-impact, low-overhead initiative that many are calling for.
A Question of Values
But just as important as budgets, this crisis is about values.
Porter frames it as a test of American leadership: “U.S. investment in humanitarian assistance has such a massive impact. It generates respect, goodwill, stability — and it’s in America’s national security interest. Unhealed trauma fuels instability and violence.”
“U.S. investment in humanitarian assistance has such a massive impact. It generates respect, goodwill, stability — and it’s in America’s national security interest. Unhealed trauma fuels instability and violence.”
Madrigal-Borloz adds a final reminder: “This Fund has enjoyed bipartisan support for over 40 years. During the first Trump administration, funding increased. When survivors testify before Congress, legislators across the spectrum recognize the horror of torture and the importance of rehabilitation. That consensus must not be lost.”
He’s right. In fact, funding under President Trump rose by 22% in his first term, a dramatic rise that equated to eighteen thousand more survivors receiving support worldwide.
“Funding under President Trump rose by 22% in his first term, a dramatic rise that equated to eighteen thousand more survivors receiving support worldwide.
That’s because torture isn’t a partisan issue — and it must not become one now.
“If the international community steps back, perpetrators will feel emboldened,” Czitrom warns. “And survivors will be left to heal alone.”
This is not just about sustaining a UN program — it’s about whether America keeps faith with the values that make us great.
