The IMF recently highlighted a 25% cut in aid to Sub-Saharan Africa — largely, but not solely, driven by Trump’s dismantling of USAID. The UK’s own cuts echo a wider trend: aid is being redirected, relabelled under different expenditure lines or simply eliminated as defence spending and domestic social security demands crowd it out. Some of those cuts exposed genuine waste. But the scale is not sustainable — particularly for fragile low-income states where aid accounted for up to 6% of GDP. For them, this is potentially brutal.
Aid remains a fiscal lifeline for millions. It is also in our own interest to help stabilise these economies and their health systems – a simple point not rammed home to our British electorate: the ongoing Ebola outbreak in DRC and migration flows from the Horn of Africa — amidst unresolved conflicts — are a reminder of what happens when that financial lifeline frays. Disease and displacement do not respect borders. The contagion risk to richer countries is real and potentially rapid.
The immediate fiscal fallout
Countries relying on aid to fund healthcare and education face a stark choice: borrow, cut, or collapse basic services. For war-torn or post-conflict states such as South Sudan, there is no good option.
Tax collection is weak because state capacity is weak — and because in too many cases, key extractable sectors like oil have become private ATMs for a ruling kleptocratic elite. That is not a comfortable thing to say in polite development circles. But it is true, and any serious discussion of aid reform has to start there rather than talk around it.