Global Aid, U.S. Influence, and Democracy

Yacine El Bachir

London, UK

Photo by Andrew Winkler on Unsplash

Trump’s shutdown of USAID, although temporarily halted by a judge ruling that Doge’s efforts to close the agency likely violated the constitution in ‘multiple ways’ on the basis that Elon Musk’s power to do so is illegitimate, has already had severe consequences on the global humanitarian landscape and will continue to do so. Not only does USAID account for over 30% of international humanitarian assistance globally, but its shutdown has caused ripple effects by sending signals to other countries to follow suit. 

The UK’s Labour government, for example, has cut international aid and development funding from 0.5% to 0.3% of GDP - breaking a previous manifesto commitment made only months before to restore the long-standing 0.7% target, originally abandoned by the Conservatives. Whilst the US and UK have been the headline events, many other Western countries have followed in their wake: the Netherlands, France, Belgium and Switzerland have all announced similar initiatives to cut their ODA (Overseas Development Assistance). This should be viewed both as a form of bowing the head to Trump and his agenda as European leaders attempt to cozy up to him and his administration, but also as European leaders taking advantage of the precedent which the US has now set in order to implement cust cutting programs which they have long wanted to carry out. 

This means that not only have Trump’s actions impacted the world’s most vulnerable people directly, but that harm has been magnified by the ripple effect which has consequently followed in his wake. The US, through USAID, was the largest bilateral donor in the world, supporting food security, healthcare, disaster response, and education in more than 100 countries. Now another two of the top five have followed in the US’s footsteps (the UK and France). The consequences of this have been and will continue to be disastrous, particularly because ODA from governments like the US and the UK not only directly helps vulnerable people, but it also supports NGOs. Many smaller local organisations which help to make up the global aid system have had to shut down or significantly curtail operations as a result of directly losing funding from USAID and other governments, or indirectly as they relied on humanitarian infrastructure and networks created and maintained by governmental organisations like USAID. For example, imagine you are a small local NGO working in Sudan to build wells. However, if the USAID programme which built and maintained the road infrastructure in the local region suddenly shuts down, how are you supposed to bring in the trucks and building equipment and manpower to build the wells if those roads are no longer open? Or if you’re Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), a charity which provides doctors and healthcare in warzones and other regions where healthcare isn’t being provided, but the USAID funded hospital which your doctors operate out of has suddenly shut down, what are you supposed to do? Through these sorts of transmission mechanisms, the withdrawal of governmental support can have huge second and third order impacts beyond even the enormous direct harm they have upon the global humanitarian aid system. 

While the humanitarian impact has been severe, the damage to America’s own geopolitical influence may be even more profound. USAID was never just an aid agency—it was a key instrument of U.S. soft power, reinforcing alliances and demonstrating America’s commitment to global stability. The decision to abandon it has sent a clear message to allies and partners: the United States is no longer a reliable benefactor. Nowhere is this more evident than in Jordan, a country whose government relies heavily on USAID funding. For decades, U.S. aid has helped stabilise Jordan’s economy, support refugees, and bolster its security forces. The sudden withdrawal of these funds has left Jordan in a precarious position, forcing it to look elsewhere for support. This is not just an isolated case; governments around the world are now looking at Jordan as a cautionary tale, a warning against becoming too dependent on the United States. As a result, many nations are diversifying their partnerships, seeking to strengthen ties with China, the EU, or regional powers rather than risk relying on an America that may abandon them at any moment. This shift is particularly evident in Europe, where the debate over reducing dependency on the U.S. has been gaining traction. Trump’s decision to gut USAID has reinforced the perception that America’s commitments are unpredictable, prompting European leaders to push for greater self-sufficiency in defence, economic aid, and global development efforts. The long-term effect is a weakening of transatlantic ties and a world in which the U.S. has less influence over its closest allies.

However, this is not the only geopolitical repercussion the US faces. Perhaps the most insidious consequence of Trump’s decision is how it has been used by autocracies to legitimise their attacks on Western NGOs and democracy itself. For years, authoritarian regimes from Russia to China to Egypt have claimed that Western-funded NGOs are merely fronts for foreign interference, branding aid workers as spies and using this rhetoric to justify crackdowns on civil society.

Now, with Trump, Elon Musk, and J.D. Vance openly pushing the same narrative—that USAID and other Western aid organisations are corrupt or serve hidden political agendas—these regimes have been handed a powerful propaganda tool. When the U.S. itself is discrediting its own aid programmes, it gives legitimacy to the claims of dictators who have long sought to suppress foreign NGOs. The consequences are already playing out in real-time. In Russia, charity workers and human rights activists have been arrested and accused of espionage, with state media citing Western figures who claim NGOs are a tool of foreign manipulation. In Egypt, organisations receiving international funding have been forced to shut down, with the government pointing to anti-USAID rhetoric from Trump-aligned politicians as justification. The idea that humanitarian aid is a form of political warfare is no longer just an authoritarian talking point—it is now mainstream discourse in the U.S. itself.

And these consequences will outlive Trump’s administration; governments around the world will never again be able to fully trust the US government; NGOs will never again be able to fully rely on US funding; and Western governmental organisations and NGOs will have a hard time shaking accusations of corruption and secret political agendas now that a US leader has so openly bought into that propaganda line.