Tag Archives: USAID

The Great Trade Experiment

Last month I wrote about The Great Foreign Aid Experiment of the Trump administration. Foreign aid has not been without its critics because it is inefficient, promotes corruption, or is a part of an insidious program of neo-colonialism. The decision, however, by the US Government to put foreign aid “through the wood chipper” sets up a natural experiment to test whether aid save lives—more precisely, whether the sudden removal of aid ends lives. Most people in global health believe that it will result in significant suffering, although some see a silver lining: deaths among the poor and vulnerable will mark the emergence of independent health systems in low-income countries that are more resilient and finally free of external interference.

Not content with one natural experiment at the expense of the global poor, on the 2^nd of April 2025, Donald Trump announced the imposition of the highest rate of tariffs on US imports in almost 100 years. In effect, the government is dismantling the free-trade mechanism that has been operating since the mid-1990s, and adopting a more isolationist market posture. Under this new theory of trade, wealth is not created, it is finite and accrued by one country to dominate another.

The evidence has been pretty clear about the effects of poverty on health. Poor people are more likely to die than rich ones. Infant, child, and maternal mortality rates are significantly higher among the poor. Preventable and treatable diseases such as HIV, tuberculosis, and malaria also disproportionately infect and kill the poor. These poverty effects occur both within and between countries. Furthermore, they are not just biological outcomes—they are deeply social, economic, and political in nature. The conditions of poverty limit access to healthcare, nutrition, education, and safe living environments.

Over the last 75 years, in parallel with increasing life expectancy across the globe, wealth has also increased. The proportion of people living in extreme poverty today is much lower than it was 50, 20, or even 10 years ago. In fact, historically the sharpest global decline in extreme poverty occurred between 1995 and 2019—2020 was, of course the COVID pandemic, which reversed a wide rage of health and economic indicators.

Bill Clinton assumed the presidency of the United States in January 1993. He was supportive of free trade and the Uruguay Round of of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), which was completed in 1994. The successful conclusion of GATT led to the creation of the World Trade Organization (WTO) in January 1995.

Following the liberalisation of trade, global extreme poverty rates fell from 36% to 10% between 1995 and 2018. In South and South-East Asia the extreme poverty rates fell from 41% to 10%. In Sub-Saharan Africa, the extreme poverty rates fell substantially, but without the same speed or depth as elsewhere: 60% to 37%. The gains of trade liberalisation were also more advantageous to some markets than others, and it particularly benefited countries with cheap manufacturing capacity such as Bangladesh and Cambodia.

The sudden US reversal on tariffs will be punishing for those poor countries that have developed a manufacturing sector—particularly in shoes and garments—to provide cheap, volume goods based on low labour costs. Of course, the goods in the US need not be cheap, because there is considerable profit in branding.

If exports drop significantly, factories will want to cut staff numbers swiftly to retain their commercial viability. Poor households, particularly those reliant on a single income manufacturing jobs, will likely be thrown backwards into extreme poverty. The global economic gains of the last 30 years could begin to reverse. A major drop in exports will have an immediate impact on the factories’ labour force but there will be flow on effects to the entire economy of poor countries. In Bangladesh, for example, garment manufacturing is the single biggest source of export revenue, and reductions here will mean reductions in national tax revenue which supports health, education and welfare services.

In other LMICs that are less reliant on a global export market, shifts in tariffs will have a concomitantly smaller impact. Thus, the two natural experiments will intersect. The impact of foreign aid on health and the impact of foreign trade on health will play out with interacting effects.

Needless to say, none of this was ever framed as an experiment. Cutting aid and raising tariffs was all to “Make America Great Again”. It is a cruel, indifferent approach to trade and foreign policy. There will be no one in the Situation Room plotting a Kaplan-Meier survival curve. No policymaker will announce that the hypothesis has been confirmed/rejected: that wealth, when withdrawn or walled off, leaves people dead. Nonetheless, the data will tell its own story.

And when it does, it won’t speak in dollars or trade deficits. It will speak in the numbers of anaemic mothers, closed clinics, empty pharmacies, and missed meals. It will speak in children pulled from school to help at home. It will speak in lives shortened not by biology, but by policy

The Great Trade Experiment, like the Great Aid Experiment, won’t just test theories in global health and economics. It will test people—millions of them. And the results, while statistically significant, will not be ethically neutral. Some experiments happen by accident. Others, by design.

This one was designed—by the President of the United States.

Aid cruelty is not an opportunity

I have followed with genuine interest the responses of some sub-Saharan African (SSA) writers to the collapse of foreign aid in 2025. Whether they reside in SSA or enjoy a diasporic life in the Global North, they have argued that the loss may be an opportunity gifted to the Global South. While millions will die, SSA will at last be able to throw off the multi-billion dollar shackles to which it was so unwillingly chained. How awful to have been placed in the position of choosing between the “n”-word—“no”—and the “y”-word—“Yes!”—when offered money.

The tenor of the writing suggests that in making the offer of aid, countries in the Global South were stripped of agency. They could only rediscover agency when they were stripped of the money. The evil aid system by which the Global North klept [sic] them enthralled has at last been dismantled. The opportunity, long denied, has finally emerged to build health and development systems that “work for Africa”.

You will, I hope, forgive me if I do not join that cheer squad or Greek chorus.

In left-wing politics, there is an aphorism that it is better to suffer exploitation than starvation. To cheer unemployment for the liberating opportunities it provides from the excesses of exploitative capital is as short-sighted as it is stupid. That does not mean exploitation is acceptable. It is not. It must be resisted and fought. But starvation is not the solution.

If foreign aid was a shackle, its sudden removal should be freeing. But stripping away the existing system does not automatically lead to something better. Stretched governments cannot replace the wreckage of collapsed health programs overnight. What may look like liberation on paper is abandonment. A just transition requires negotiation and genuine collaboration. It requires time.

If the goal was to end aid, donor countries could have managed future aid through a phased reduction. The process could include such things as a shift to loans on beneficial terms combined with early debt management and relief. The development of capacity, systems, and infrastructure would need to be a part of it.

When you reach into the water to remove a life-jacket from a drowning man, you have not provided him with an opportunity to learn to swim, nor have you (passively) “let him die”. You have killed him. He may bob above the waves for a few minutes, even an hour. You may helpfully scan the horizon for a bit of passing flotsam for him to cling to. But when exhaustion finally overwhelms him, and he slips beneath the surface, you are a murderer.

When, with the snap of the fingers, a country closes HIV antiretroviral programs—leaving the drugs to rot and expire in warehouses and shop lots—it has not (passively) let people living with HIV/AIDS die. The donor country condemned them to death and waited.

The personal relationship with the individual drowning and the anonymous one with the hundreds of thousands of people on foreign-aid-funded antiretroviral does not change the moral calculus of the death, and it does not mitigate the callousness and wanton cruelty of the murder.

Aid programs are not light switches that donor countries can (or should) turn off on a whim. Cutting funding overnight destroys systems that took decades to build, leaving chaos in their place. The systems may not have been perfect; they may have needed greater local ownership in the design; they may have supported corruption. However, if the goal is genuine self-reliance, the responsible course is a phased, predictable transition that allows for capacity-building, infrastructure development, and systems design and refinement.

Millions have been condemned to death, others to lives of increased hardship and misery. If donor nations refuse to acknowledge their historical responsibility, then at the very least, they must be held accountable for the consequences of their actions today.

The world’s wealthiest countries’ substantial and immediate reduction in foreign aid turns their backs on the international human rights, their international obligations to support the SDG, and the obligation to leave no one behind. The United States (U.S.) led the pack when they put USAID “through the wood chipper”, but others have followed.

“The UK, the Netherlands, and Belgium have announced the largest cuts in [overseas development assistance] ODA history, and the European Commission, France and Germany are expected to follow soon. These cuts are not just minor shifts, but cliffs: at least USD 60 billion by USA and GBP 6 billion by the UK, EUR 8 billion over four years (2025-2028) by the Netherlands, and a possible EUR 20 billion by Germany.”

What is the unifying historical theme of these donor countries? Empire. They did not build their wealth on ingenuity or fair trade alone. Conquest, forced labour, and resource theft was there. They racialised the right to development. The UK drained its colonies of raw materials while imposing economic structures that prioritised British interests over local development. Belgium’s rule over the Congo was so extractive and brutal that its legacy still echoes in governance failures and economic instability today. France has reluctantly and only recently relinquished control over its former colonies, where it maintained economic dominance through ‘Françafrique’ policies that benefited Paris over Dakar.

Slashing aid is not an opportunity. It is abandonment. Do not let them disguise it as anything else. Do not allow the wealthy nations to pat themselves on the back for their cruelty. It is an outrage, and it must be named as such.

The outrage does not erase the agency of recipient countries that agreed to destructive conditionalities attached to receiving aid. It does not forgive the naked corruption that sometimes occurs. It does not excuse the capacity of poor countries to exploit their even poorer neighbours, nor the exploitation of social stratification within their societies.

But none of these realities justify the wholesale destruction of life-saving programs without a plan, without accountability, and without justice. Nations that built their wealth through exploitation cannot now walk away and abandon vulnerable countries, whether they were directly plundered by them or by others. If they do not uphold their obligations, civil society, recipient governments, and international institutions should demand an ethical transition rather than an overnight abandonment that costs millions of lives. Anything less is complicity in death.

The Great Foreign Aid Experiment

Foreign aid is bad. It’s bureaucratic, top-down, inefficient, promotes corruption and dependence, and does not get to where it’s needed. That has been the common refrain. A recent, novel addition to those complaints is that aid does not return sufficient economic value to the donor. Now, thanks to the US government’s dramatic shift in foreign aid, we have a natural experiment to test the hypothesis: no more counterfactual models, economic pontification, and ivory tower theorising. We’re going to get the data!

Inflation-adjusted global aid transfers have increased steadily from US$35 Billion in 1960 to $190 Billion in 2021. In that time, alongside broader economic and technological advancements, we have seen dramatic global improvements in infant and child mortality, maternal mortality, life expectancy, and extreme poverty rates.

From 1961 to 2024, the general, global approach to foreign aid was shaped by the Kennedy administration’s passage of the Foreign Assistance Act (1961). Kennedy’s approach marked a shift from ad hoc post-WWII aid programs to a structured, long-term commitment to development. Its purpose was “[t]o promote the foreign policy, security, and general welfare of the United States by assisting peoples of the world in their efforts toward economic development and internal and external security, and for other purposes.” The bill reorganised US aid and created the United States Agency for International Development (USAID). Since then, global approaches to foreign aid have evolved, especially after the Cold War, incorporating humanitarian assistance, economic development, and global health initiatives.

While approaches to foreign aid have evolved since the early 1960s, there have been persistent calls for radically restructuring aid. The general nature of the complaint has changed little. Aid is bureaucratic, top-down, inefficient, promotes corruption, and does not get to where it is needed: Bauer (Dissent on Development, 1976), Hancock (Lords of Poverty, 1989), Maren (The Road to Hell, 1997), Sogge (Give and Take, 2002), Easterly (White Man’s Burden, 2006), Moyo (Dead Aid, 2009), and Deaton (The Great Escape, 2014).

Thanks to the new Trump presidency, we will have an unexpected and dramatic test of the value of aid. He gave us a quasi-experimental (natural experiment) test. One of the many Executive Orders he signed on inauguration day was “Reevaluating and Realigning United States Foreign Aid”. He determined that:

“The United States foreign aid industry and bureaucracy are not aligned with American interests and in many cases antithetical to American values. They serve to destabilise world peace by promoting ideas in foreign countries that are directly inverse to harmonious and stable relations internal to and among countries.”

We can dismiss any notion of equipoise, the idea that there is some real or dramatic doubt about the direction of effect. The great bottom line (spoiler alert!): people will suffer and die.

As the modern masters of sprawling cruelty, the US Government set about withdrawing hundreds of millions of dollars of aid. By the 28th of March (one month and one-week post-inauguration), the impact of the terminated funding is already affecting direct and indirect services to millions of people in low- and middle-income countries. The effects are so interconnected and global that the only real question is not “Will it be bad?” but “How bad will it be”?

Infectious diseases, big (HIV/AIDS, TB, Malaria) and small (Onchocerciasis, Filariasis,…) will lose prevention, treatment and management funding. Maternal and child health services, including sexual and reproductive services, have been gutted. Multilater, UN agencies have lost funding, as have international NGOs, national NGOs, and small civil society organisations.

But perhaps we should look at the cup half full and celebrate. The grand experiment is finally here. For decades, sceptics have argued that aid is ineffective, stifles self-sufficiency, entrenches corruption, and moves the needle of human progress insufficiently far. Now, at last, we will see an aid-free world through a lens of unvarnished reality. No more speculation, no more hypothetical debates. The world’s poorest countries will become their own control group.

The beauty of the US experiment is its scope. Unlike carefully designed studies of aid effectiveness from behavioural economics labs—where researchers squabble over metrics, counterfactuals, and model assumptions—this will be a real-world, systemic demonstration.

And of course, when the numbers start rolling in—the maternal deaths, the malnutrition rates, the outbreaks of diseases once thought to be on the retreat—there will be no shortage of explanations.

There is nothing surgical about the US Government cuts to aid, nor are they simply recalibration. They have declared ideological war against the world’s most vulnerable, and we will count the consequences in human lives.

If the sceptics were right, we should see a golden age of self-reliance and local ingenuity, unshackled from the oppressive hand of foreign assistance. If they were wrong—well, the numbers will tell their own story.

Will anyone care to listen?