It was just before dawn in November 2017 when the generators fell silent in Za’atari. For years, Syrian families in Jordan’s largest refugee camp had lived by the rhythm of rationed electricity—six to eight hours a day after sunset, paid for by UNHCR at a cost of over €450,000 monthly. Then, with the flip of a switch at the inauguration of a 12.9 MW solar photovoltaic plant—the largest ever built in a refugee setting—life in Za’atari changed. Suddenly, lights stayed on through dinner, food could be refrigerated, phones charged, and children had the power to finish homework by lamplight. What was once a landscape lit by diesel fumes now glowed softly under clean, silent sun power.
Za’atari camp had opened in 2012 to host the first wave of Syrian refugees fleeing civil war. By 2017, its 80,000 residents lived in an urban grid of shelters and communal services carved out of the Jordanian desert. Yet, despite the hustle of markets and clinics, the camp’s backbone—its electricity supply—was failing. Diesel generators groaned, fuel convoys risked attack, and costs soared. In response, UNHCR partnered with Germany’s KfW Development Bank and the Jordanian Ministry of Energy and Mineral Resources to erect 30,000 solar panels across 33 football fields on the camp’s outskirts. Built in just six months, the plant began supplying 12–14 hours of electricity per day—doubling the available power and slashing annual CO₂ emissions by 13,000 metric tons, equivalent to removing 30,000 barrels of oil from the supply chain.
For families like the Yassins, whose three-bedroom shelter once turned cold and dark by early evening, solar meant restored normality. “We no longer rush home to beat the blackout,” said Amal, mother of four, as she loaded a simmering pot of lentils onto her electric stove for the first time. “My daughters can study, and we have light when we need it most.” Health services also improved: clinics no longer relied on candlelit examinations, vaccines remained safely refrigerated, and midwives could monitor births under reliable lighting—all contributing to better outcomes in a setting where every watt counts.
The economic impact rippled further. UNHCR and its donors save roughly US $5.5 million annually on fuel and generator maintenance, funds now reallocated to food assistance, education, and water supplies. At the same time, the camp’s streets became safer at night, enabling vendors to keep marketplaces open after dusk and children to play under solar-powered streetlights. Local businesses sprang up around newly reliable energy: small workshops offering phone-charging services, tailoring stalls using powered sewing machines, and cold-drink vendors extending their hours—signs that energy access can catalyze micro-enterprises even in transient settings.
Key to the plant’s success was the involvement of camp residents themselves. Over 250 Syrian refugees—many former technicians and engineers—were recruited and trained to install, monitor, and maintain the solar arrays. Qassem, an electrical technician before displacement, now leads a team overseeing real-time performance via a bank of screens in a control room. “This work restores my dignity,” he said, “and ensures I keep skills that I’ll bring back if peace returns.” Beyond income, these roles fostered a sense of ownership and pride—critical ingredients for any infrastructure project in fragile contexts.
Environmental stewardship was woven into the model. The plant’s 12.9 MW output reduces the camp’s carbon footprint by roughly 13,000 tons annually, cutting air pollution and noise in a densely populated area. It also aligns with Jordan’s broader climate goals under its Nationally Determined Contribution, demonstrating that humanitarian operations can support host countries’ sustainable-development targets rather than undermine them.
Za’atari’s example has become a blueprint. In neighboring Azraq camp, UNHCR and partners commissioned a smaller solar array in spring 2017, replicating the model’s technical design and community-engagement framework. Plans are underway for similar installations in refugee settings from Kenya’s Dadaab camp to Rohingya settlements in Bangladesh—each adapted to local climates and grid constraints. These cross-site lessons underscore a key insight: decentralized renewable energy can be deployed rapidly and at scale in humanitarian emergencies, offering both resilience and cost savings.
Critically, technology transfer and skills training extend beyond immediate energy gains. Za’atari’s solar technicians receive certifications aligned with Jordanian vocational standards, boosting their employability both inside and outside the camp. Meanwhile, a pilot collaboration with India’s Barefoot College trained refugee women as solar engineers, combining UNHCR’s logistical support with Barefoot’s “train-the-trainer” methodology. By empowering women—often heads of households—to install and maintain solar home systems, the program addresses both gender equity and household energy poverty, enriching Za’atari’s social fabric.
Solar power also unlocked improvements in water access. In 2021, UNHCR’s “Clean Energy, Clean Water” initiative tied solar arrays to micro-powered pumps, delivering potable water directly to shelters. Previously, water trucks ferried supplies to communal outlets, forcing long queues and leaving families to risk exposure at distant boreholes. Solar-driven distribution not only conserved water resources but also enhanced hygiene and health outcomes during the COVID-19 pandemic—when clean water became a frontline defense against virus transmission.
Yet challenges remain. As electricity demand grows with expanded markets and new service needs, UNHCR has occasionally reduced supply hours from 14 to nine per day to manage load and maintenance costs, reminding stakeholders that renewable installations must be paired with demand-management strategies and financial sustainability plans. Moreover, while solar panels have long lifespans, battery storage and inverters require ongoing funding for replacements—highlighting the imperative of donor commitments and public–private partnerships to secure lifecycle financing.
Looking ahead, Za’atari is exploring hybrid models that integrate wind turbines and biogas digesters—using organic waste from camp kitchens to generate supplementary electricity. Smart-grid pilots aim to link household-level meters with the central control room, enabling predictive maintenance and user-level billing in line with fair-trade principles. If successful, these innovations could transform refugee camps from energy sinks into learning labs for clean-energy microgrids—lessons that displaced communities, host governments, and global climate planners could all leverage.
Lebanon’s recent crisis and Ukraine’s displacement surge underscore the urgency of resilient energy solutions in humanitarian contexts. Za’atari’s solar story illustrates that with the right mix of technology, training, and community ownership, refugee camps need not be dark spots on the energy map but beacons of innovation. As humanitarian operations evolve to meet 21st-century challenges—from climate shocks to protracted displacement—the Za’atari model stands out: renewable energy isn’t just a technical fix, but a pathway to dignity, empowerment, and sustainable hope in the world’s most vulnerable communities.
