Journalist, writer and curator of the Wall of Great Africans
Few things have collectively shaken African (and other developing) states in recent times like the suspension and review of USAID assistance by Donald Trump’s government shortly after his inauguration in January 2025.
Trump signed an executive order to freeze nearly all foreign assistance for 90 days starting January 20, 2025, aiming to review programmes to ensure they align with his “America First” policy.
America accounts for nearly 50 per cent of global aid, and the amount affected by the suspension is estimated to be between $7 billion and $9 billion.
The aid funds significant portions of several poor countries’ health, education, and agricultural budgets, prompting many to speak of a “coming apocalypse”, “doom”, and a “reversal worth 40 years”, particularly in the fight against HIV/Aids. The suspension has highlighted just how enormous America’s aid has been, and how quietly it has been disbursed.
A few examples: USAID health assistance to Nigeria—until recently Africa’s largest economy—in 2023 was about $600 million, accounting for over 21 per cent of Nigeria's 2023 health budget.
About 60 per cent of Uganda's HIV/AIDS programme in 2023 was funded by PEPFAR, the massive US initiative launched in 2003 by Republican President George W. Bush, managed by USAID.
USAID, through PEPFAR, funds nearly 20 per cent of South Africa’s annual HIV/Aids programme, valued at around $2.3 billion yearly.
It has given Ethiopia over $3 billion to fight HIV/Aids. In August 2024, the US announced nearly $424 million in humanitarian and health assistance to address the ongoing crisis in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
It is the largest bilateral donor to the DRC’s health sector, providing more than $256 million in health assistance through programmes like PEPFAR, the President’s Malaria Initiative, and the Global Health Security programme, which helped treat over seven million people for diseases like TB, HIV, and malaria. USAID funds about 40 per cent of all humanitarian operations in war-torn Sudan.
Beyond crisis and emergency funding, USAID also invests in development budgets. For example, about 11.6 per cent (KSh 84.1 billion) of Kenya’s KSh 723.4 billion development budget for 2024 was funded by USAID. In Uganda, it's estimated that USAID funnelled over $500 million yearly into the country's economy.
With such significant funding, it’s surprising there aren’t shrines built to worship America in many African countries. While many in Africa mourn the aid cuts, many welcome them, arguing it's an opportunity for Africa to grow up, wean itself off aid, and achieve true independence.
Optimists see this as a chance for African governments to stop corruption, invest wisely, and become richer. Some believe stalled projects like the African Continental Free Trade Area could gain momentum, with cash-strapped governments opening up borders and economies.
Hyper-optimists predict a new wave of economic and political reform, suggesting repressive governments might ease up to prevent revolutions amid collapsing public services due to the withdrawal of American aid.
Based on past African forms, those optimistic scenarios are unreasonably exuberant. It is more likely that only governments that weren’t corrupt and were reformist will accelerate that journey.
The corrupt and repressive ones will get worse because more desperate conditions will increase their power as USAID subsidies dry out; there will be no other show in town. The cost of transacting politics could, in fact, come down.
The critic who used to survive because he was getting funding for his NGO from USAID, will soften and take $10,000 from the government to keep the lights on and feed his family.
With so many turning to the State House, it will be African presidents’ market. Where they used to pay the leader of an opposition $100,000 to cross over, now with so many people lining up outside State House, they can talk the price down to $50,000.
Rather than new revolutions, it is likely we shall see more communities and citizens seceding from the state, continuing a trend which has been underway for years.
Take Nigeria, where as noted earlier, USAID money accounts for over 21 per cent of the health budget. Even with that, public health services are appalling.
This week, a Nigerian said that to keep electricity running in hospitals for surgeries, relatives of patients are going as far as buying backup generators for hospitals or fuelling those already there.
If, say, 14 patients need emergency surgery, their relatives get together, and two of them take over the costs of running the generator and other hospital services for one day of the week. In this way, patients’ relatives have taken over the running of several public hospitals.
Because too many Africans have simply given up on their governments to fight, we will see more of these secessions.
Trump could turn out to be the force that most (accidentally) reshaped the African state in the first triennium of the 21st century.
Charles Onyango-Obbo is a journalist, writer, and curator of the “Wall of Great Africans.” X (Twitter) @cobbo3
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