Cutting overseas aid: an affront to solidarity and the common good

Dualta Roughneen argues that no matter which way we look at international aid or charitable giving to those living in less prosperous or more volatile countries, walking away shouldn’t be countenanced

Are we suffering from an excess of empathy that creating compassion fatigue? In an increasingly globalised and interconnected world, the internet – and our fixation with social media and doomscrolling– means we are bombarded with never-ending stories of gloom.
Domestically, we have a housing crisis and a homeless emergency, we have a health crisis, we have a mental health crisis; internationally there is a refugee crisis or crises, we have Ukraine, we have Gaza, we have climate change, we have the wars we barely hear about but never seem to end.
Despite living in an era of greatest prosperity, we feel like we exist in a world of ceaseless crisis. We are living in one of the wealthiest countries at probably the most prosperous period in world history, yet doom lives around every corner. Are we becoming inoculated to the real crises that exist in the world?

Reactions

Donald Trump’s decision to pause and then cut a very large portion of the US government’s overseas aid was met with little in the way of popular outrage. Keir Starmer’s announcement shortly after to reduce UK aid from 5% of GDP to 3% encountered very little resistance. If it was a Tory government it may not have been surprising but no one expected a Labour government to cut assistance to those in need around the world. They did, and the world moved on very quickly.
Inside the aid-sector, the reaction was much different. It has turned international assistance on its head. The sector has entered crisis mode yet we have struggled to articulate a strong and compelling argument about what this will mean for the most vulnerable across the world. It is hard to understand why. The examples brought forward by Elon Musk discrediting international assistance gained far more traction than the counter-arguments even if they were cherry-picked for maximum impact.

Immediately after the quake hit, they were ready to go again to pick up anyone injured”

Two of my proudest moments in over twenty years working in international aid demonstrated to me the power of overseas assistance in general but in particular the power – and benefits – of United States assistance. The Nepal earthquake of 2015 devastated a huge part of the country. People were killed immediately but millions lost their homes, their livelihoods, their education and much more. The United States marines played a pivotal role in facilitating the NGO sector in getting food, water and shelter to places that were cut off from civilisation. The US deployed huge volumes of cash to buy necessary goods but also sent helicopters, planes and marines to help get the aid to where no one else could go.
When the second earthquake hit two weeks later on May 12, I was very close to the epicentre, benefitting from US Marines helicopters who were flying me – and food and tents – to people high in the mountains. Immediately after the quake hit, they were ready to go again to pick up anyone injured and fly them to Kathmandu for treatment. They invited me to go with them to assess the damage but I declined, rather leaving space for anyone injured to be picked up. They took off and, on their way back, they met cloud cover and heavy mist, crashing into an outcrop of the Himalayas. 5 civilians, 6 United States Marines and 2 Nepalese Soldiers, lost their lives.

Aid

In 2014, when the ebola crisis in West Africa was its peak, there was a real fear that the epidemic would go completely out of control and devastate vast swathes of the region. As it was over 11,000 people died but it could have been much, much worse. If it weren’t for the funds, the logistics, the organisation and the heavy lifting of the US government in Liberia and to a similar extent, the UK government in Sierra Leone, the outbreak could have been a lot worse. I was there and I can testify to the impact that the US and the UK had in curbing the epidemic and bringing it under control.

Angus Deaton articulates one of the strongest arguments that ‘most external aid is doing more harm than good’”

In both these examples, NGOs and the international aid sector played critical roles in harnessing the strength and funding of the different governments.
These are two examples that I can testify to first hand. It can be easy to dismiss them as outliers and point to profligacy, unintended consequences, and ongoing crisis to create a narrative that demonstrates the ineffectiveness of aid. In ‘The Great Escape’ Angus Deaton articulates one of the strongest arguments that ‘most external aid is doing more harm than good’. William Easterly in ‘White Man’s Burden’ gives an equally compelling narrative.

Perspective

Many who decry Donald Trump’s cuts are at the same time critical of aid from the perspective of it being a colonial endeavour. I have some sympathy for the former criticisms and little for the latter. It is easy to find narratives that suit your perspective in such a complex area where emergency aid, development assistance, and the responsibilities governments interact – often with war an aggravating factor.
External aid is being questioned both by an increasingly cynical, sceptical and impatient public at large, but also from what could be considered ‘the left’ and ‘the right’. Many of the same people who make the argument that aid is inherently colonial and patriarchal, are most aggrieved by the current US administrations attack on ‘Diversity, Equality & Inclusion’ (DEI). Incoherently, they have been undermining external aid for years attacking its history, origins and way of working – while wishing to arrogate the trappings of aid for their own ends.

The language and reasoning of aid agencies is becoming lost in a type of moralising that is alienating to the average Joe/Josephine”

I agree that there is a correction needed and that the ordinary meaning of good intentions in relation diversity, equality and inclusion have been hi-jacked and re-interpreted to be divisive rather than inclusive concepts, pushing identity politics to the extent that it undermines overseas assistance, both development and humanitarian, creating the stories that allow Donald Trump and other aid sceptics to make a mockery of hugely important work. The rigid orthodoxy that accompanies this viewpoint has made not-for-profit work and international development a difficult place for those who do not align.
There are four main principles of Catholic Social Teaching: the dignity of the human person, subsidiarity, the common good, and solidarity. These underpin what should be the core reasons for supporting developed countries’ overseas assistance programmes. These are accompanied by the pursuit of peace and care (the preferential option) for the poor. This is not very different to how many aid policy makers understand the moral argument for aid in itself but the language and reasoning of aid agencies is becoming lost in a type of moralising that is alienating to the average Joe/Josephine.
We shouldn’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. Aid – like everything human – is imperfect, it is flawed, but if we turn our backs on it, we turn our backs on our responsibility for what Catholics call corporal works of mercy: to feed the hungry, to give drink to the thirsty, to clothe the naked, to give shelter to travellers, to visit the sick, to visit the imprisoned, and to bury the dead. These words may stick in the throat of many who want the language to reflect their own worldview, who seek justice rather than charity in external aid. They view the language of charity as an anachronism yet do not see that justice properly understood is not exclusive nor separate from charity. Many seek charitable donations but are embarrassed to identify as charities.
Pope Benedict expressed the interplay of charity and justice nicely: “To desire the common good and strive towards it is a requirement of justice and charity.  To take a stand for the common good is on the one hand to be solicitous for, and on the other hand to avail oneself of, that complex of institutions that give structure to the life of society, juridically, civilly, politically and culturally, making it the pólis, or ‘city’.  The more we strive to secure a common good corresponding to the real needs of our neighbours, the more effectively we love them.  Every Christian is called to practice this charity, in a manner corresponding to his vocation and according to the degree of influence he wields in the pólis.”
Elsewhere, he emphatically declares that “[n]ot only is justice not extraneous to charity, not only is it not an alternative or parallel path to charity: justice is ‘inseparable from charity’, and intrinsic to it”, but he never forgets that charity moves beyond justice, that delivering charity does not obviate that justice must also be served.

Blurred

Works of mercy are grounded in the virtues of faith, hope and charity, but of course we are called to justice, prudence, temperance, and fortitude, which require us to question – as Angus Deaton and William Easterly do – the practical outcomes of how we approach our work. We shouldn’t be blind to the fact that our endeavours can be mistaken and we need to correct our works of charity and justice.
In Donald Trump’s decision to obliterate the United States overseas assistance the virtues of prudence and temperance feel egregiously absent. He has used a cudgel where a scalpel would be most useful. The aid sector is in a constant state of self-correction, that from the inside, can feel like naval-gazing. Speculative concepts sometimes supplant practical solutions and there has been a growing tendency to drift inappropriately into areas of social and attitudinal change that seek impose modern, ‘western’ values within development assistance. DEI is often packaged in a way to enable this, undermining the original and normal meaning of these words.

Lost in the midst of these ideological and somewhat philosophical battles, are the stories of real people”

There is a fuzzy line between cultural imposition and defending human rights. This line is increasingly blurred and subject to activists’ agenda in the name of development. And this is where things become unclear: where charity is left behind and a very subjective interpretation of what constitutes justice (social, racial, economic, climate) creates a landscape of innumerable perspectives and a competition of values. This mess provided Donald Trump with the ammunition to effectively stop the US governments overseas assistance.
Lost in the midst of these ideological and somewhat philosophical battles, are the stories of real people. Amidst the constant narrative of crisis, and culture wars, are individuals with their own stories. What is lost will be vital life-saving assistance for people affected by war and natural disasters, or support for people in places where their governments either don’t have the will or the means to put systems in place that give them equal access to rights – and certainly not the standards of living we are used to here in Ireland.

Dignity

The Catholic principle of subsidiarity recognises the human dignity of each individual and the right to be involved in his/her own development. Cuts to development assistance will impact civil society in the poorest areas from having the resources to exert some control over their own lives. Taking CBM’s own work, supporting organisations of people with disabilities, with resources to engage with their communities, governments, and other actors, to lobby for policy and legislative changes where they might otherwise be ignored, in countries where civil society is not supported, where democracy is weak and often where people with disabilities are disregarded in the competition for scarce resources, is hugely important. This is what the aid sector calls localisation in many respects. At CBM, we support OPDs, locally, to set their own agenda rather than imposing our own values. International development assistance is pivotal for people with disabilities, but also other often marginalized groups, to gain a toehold at the table.
Aid for us, isn’t just about saving sight – we know that this is necessary, urgent and immediate – but also supporting people to engage in the process of their own country’s development and in the spaces where decisions are taken and made. Cutting overseas development assistance risks taking away the one support that makes the invisible visible. We only need to think back to our own past where invisible people became forgotten people. People may honestly differ on whether this is the best use of taxpayers’ money, and it is not as easy to sell as emergency assistance, but it can be just as important to the real person or persons who otherwise would be just a number.

In a globalised world, we are no longer complete strangers to people who are a continent away”

Putting ideology aside, we have to reflect on the lives of those who are going to suffer when aid is cut. People will die and others will suffer needlessly. Turning our backs and walking away is not the solution. If aid has morphed into something we do not like, that is on our heads and not the fault of disaster-affected people or people who are born into countries that have not yet seen the fruits of economic development that we benefit from here in Europe and US. In Ireland, we wouldn’t contemplate stopping the ambulance service because the HSE needed to get its house in order.
In the parable of the Good Samaritan, the priest and Levite determined that they owed nothing to the injured man lying on the road. They crossed the road to avoid engaging. The Good Samaritan went to him and bandaged his wounds, put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him.  The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
The Samaritan may not have borne any responsibility for the situation that he encountered but he knew he could not, in good conscience, walk away. In a globalised world, we are no longer complete strangers to people who are a continent away. We can – and do – argue until the cows come home about where justice is owed in our globalised world, as history is contested and blame apportioned and restitution owed – by whom and to whom and to what extent.

Justice

The Good Samaritan may not have had any obligations to justice but was animated by charity. Pope John Paul II, was convinced that justice alone is insufficient to establish a truly humane society. “In every sphere of interpersonal relationships,” he maintained, “justice must, so to speak, be corrected’ to a considerable extent by that love which, as Saint Paul proclaims, ‘is patient and kind’ or, in other words, possesses the characteristics of that merciful love which is so much of the essence of the Gospel and Christianity”. Reflecting on this, Pope Benedict explained “Charity, in a word, not only enables justice to become more inventive and to meet new challenges; it also inspires and purifies humanity’s efforts to achieve authentic justice and thus the building of a society worthy of man.”
Whether we consider overseas aid as charity or the subject of justice distracts from our Christian obligations and is to dance on the head of a pin.  We can talk ourselves to death arguing about what is owed to justice and what are our obligations but turning our backs should not be an option.

Charity goes beyond justice, that delivering charity does not obviate that justice must also be served”

Pope Benedict brought justice and charity together with great articulation: “While it is true that human solidarity inspired by love goes beyond justice – because to love is to give, to offer what is ‘mine’ to the other – it is never without justice, which leads us to give the other what is ‘his’, what belongs to him by virtue of his being and acting.  Indeed, I cannot ‘give’ the other what is ‘mine’, without first giving him what belongs to him in justice.”
Separately he emphasised that “[n]ot only is justice not extraneous to charity, not only is it not an alternative or parallel path to charity: justice is ‘inseparable from charity’, and intrinsic to it.”
When viewed in this way, we cannot forget that charity goes beyond justice, that delivering charity does not obviate that justice must also be served – and no matter which way we look at international aid or charitable giving to those living in less prosperous or more volatile countries, walking away shouldn’t be countenanced. If you believe that aid, as currently practiced, does more harm than good, fix it.
As the wealthiest and most powerful country in the world, Donald Trump seems to have forgotten Luke 12:48: “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.”

Dualta Roughneen is the CEO of CBM Ireland, an international disability rights organisation, committed to improving the quality of life of people with disabilities and those at risk of disability, in low-income regions of the world. www.cbm.ie/donate