The end of America’s aid empire
For six decades, the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) was a cornerstone of Washington’s foreign policy, delivering 40% of global aid while projecting a softer image of American power. Through its vast network, it became a key instrument of US influence—until it was no longer.
Last month, in typically abrupt fashion, Donald Trump took to Truth Social with a blunt directive: “CLOSE IT DOWN!” With that, one of the world’s most prominent aid agencies received its death warrant. Hundreds of internal contractors at USAID were placed on unpaid leave, while others were unceremoniously dismissed, after the firebrand president imposed a sweeping freeze on US foreign aid.
But for Elon Musk, the billionaire seemingly driving this effort, there was more work to do.“Time for it to die,” Musk declared on X, the social media platform he owns, branding USAID a “criminal organization.” In separate posts, he wove a narrative, painting the agency as financially beyond repair and claiming that Trump agreed it should be shut down.
The public unraveling of this vast agency unfolded in the familiar, chaotic style of the Trump era—combative, unpredictable, and played out online. Yet, beyond the predictable theatrics that have defined his presidency, a more pressing question remains: What role has US foreign aid played in a world increasingly shaped by great power rivalry and the rise of authoritarianism? For decades, USAID has served not only humanitarian goals but also as a key instrument of geopolitical strategy. As Andrew Natsios, a former administrator of the agency, pointed out, it even played a pivotal role during the Cold War, offering aid in exchange for developing countries’ alignment with a US-led global order. But decades after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the flow of aid continued—likely aimed at keeping nations within America’s sphere of influence. In 2023, under the Biden administration, the US allocated over $70 billion for global assistance, covering everything from women’s health in conflict zones to clean water access, HIV/AIDS treatment, energy security, and anti-corruption programs. By 2024, USAID accounted for just under half of the world’s humanitarian aid tracked by the United Nations.
Despite its expansive reach, USAID found itself on the chopping block. The reason? The Trump administration saw little value in using indirect US funding to navigate the increasingly contested global influence, especially as China has made significant strides. According to William & Mary’s Global Research Institute, Beijing lent $1.34 trillion to developing nations between 2000 and 2021, largely through its Belt and Road Initiative. In this context, the Trump administration saw little point in outspending rivals to maintain influence, especially as the US appears more insular than ever. At home, leveraging Musk’s reach, Trump has shaped the narrative around USAID, casting it as plagued by financial mismanagement —making its exit an easier sell to an American public that has long seen it as a tool of Washington’s geopolitical agenda.
Aid as a political weapon
While USAID has promoted much of its work as humanitarian in nature, its history is riddled with political entanglements. Critics, both at home and abroad, argue that under the pretext of strengthening democracy, it has actively sought to manipulate political landscapes to Washington’s benefit. A decade ago, one of the most infamous examples came to light when USAID secretly created a Cuban social media platform, ZunZuneo. Floated as a harmless communication tool, the project was in fact designed to stir dissent against the Cuban government and cultivate anti-regime sentiment. According to Al Jazeera, the program was structured in a way that would ultimately hand control over to Cuban users—but only after it had served its purpose of promoting unrest. USAID denied that ZunZuneo was intended to incite opposition, but the revelation reinforced long-standing concerns that the agency’s initiatives often served as geopolitical chess moves rather than genuine development efforts.
More recently, under Joe Biden’s administration, USAID’s activities in Mexico sparked outrage. Former president Andrés Manuel López Obrador accused the agency of funding groups openly hostile to his government. In a letter to President Biden, he demanded that USAID halt financial support for Mexican organizations he claimed were part of a coordinated effort to ‘destabilize’ his administration. Even in South Asia, reports implicated the agency in shaping political outcomes. A 2022 Indian Express investigation revealed that $21 million allocated by the US government to boost voter turnout in India was, in fact, directed toward Bangladesh. Millions of dollars reportedly fueled student-led opposition movements, which played a key role in the protests that led to prime minister Sheikh Hasina’s ousting last year. Leaked documents further indicated that USAID-backed organizations had trained political groups opposed to the government, raising fresh questions about whether the agency was engaged in regime change efforts under the pretense of promoting political engagement.
These examples expose a recurring theme—USAID’s work often blurred the line between development assistance and political intervention. While the agency’s stated mission is to promote economic growth, improve health, and strengthen democratic institutions, its alignment with US strategic interests has almost always overshadowed its humanitarian goals. This duality has made the agency a lightning rod for criticism, both from those who view it as an instrument of US imperialism and from those who argue that its efforts to promote democracy are often counterproductive. Above all, its growing cost has given the Trump administration an opportunity to discard this age-old tool in favor of cheaper alternatives to influence countries around the world.
Supporting autocracies
Although the US, through its funding channels, has long positioned itself as a champion of democracy, its track record tells a different tale. Washington has historically backed authoritarian regimes when doing so served its strategic interests. Few cases demonstrate this better than Chile. By the time the military toppled Salvador Allende in 1973, Washington had already spent years trying to keep him from power. American interventions in Latin America stretch back more than a century, but the Cold War gave them new urgency. After Fidel Castro’s 1959 revolution in Cuba, the US became fixated on stopping leftist movements from gaining ground in the region. Allende, a self-proclaimed Marxist and longtime presidential contender, was seen as a threat—not just to US geopolitical interests but also to American business. His pledge to nationalize Chile’s copper mines, a sector dominated by US firms, made him an even bigger target.
When Allende won the presidency in 1970, the US funneled millions into efforts to undermine him. Three years later, as the military seized power, Washington stood by. The coup ushered in 17 years of brutal dictatorship under General Augusto Pinochet, during which more than 3,000 people were killed or disappeared. Tens of thousands were imprisoned and tortured. The pattern repeats itself across continents. During the Cold War, Washington provided substantial aid to the military dictatorships of Park Chung-hee in South Korea and Chiang Kai-shek in Taiwan, strengthening their economies while turning a blind eye to widespread repression. In Africa, the US also poured resources into Mobutu Sese Seko’s corrupt regime in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, strengthening American influence in the region as Congolese citizens endured decades of dictatorship.
The trend continues today. In the Middle East, USAID has flooded billions into Egypt, where President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi’s government has intensified crackdowns on civil liberties. Israel, Egypt, and Jordan are the only countries that have been granted exemptions from the current freeze—a telling sign that strategic interests trump human rights concerns. This selective approach to aid distribution highlights the agency’s inherent contradiction—while it claims to promote democracy and other noble causes, its actions often help authoritarian regimes that align with US interests.
Financial mismanagement
Beyond its political entanglements, USAID faces mounting scrutiny over financial mismanagement and inefficiency from both sides of the political aisle. A 2024 audit by the independent accounting firm Williams, Adley & Company found that the agency lacks proper oversight of indirect costs—expenses such as administrative overhead that are charged to federal grants. Afghanistan, the largest recipient in the region, was allocated $53 billion, much of which vanished with scant oversight. Reconstruction efforts, according to the US Special Inspector General, remain fragmented and barely visible in the war-torn country. Security funding alone accounted for $33.6 billion—only for the Ashraf Ghani government to collapse in real time on live television.
The issue extends beyond indirect costs. Critics argue that US funding mechanisms are opaque, making it difficult to assess whether aid programs achieve their intended goals. Layer upon layer of subcontractors dilute accountability, making financial mismanagement easier to obscure. For example, in Iraq, billions of dollars were allocated for reconstruction projects, but many of these initiatives were plagued by corruption and inefficiency. A 2023 report by the Special Inspector General for Iraq Reconstruction found that nearly $8 billion in aid had been wasted or mismanaged, with little to show for the massive investment.
This lack of accountability has fueled skepticism about USAID’s effectiveness and raised questions about whether the agency is truly committed to its stated mission. While USAID has undoubtedly achieved some successes—such as its contributions to global health initiatives like PEPFAR—its inability to ensure transparency and accountability undermines its credibility and reinforces the perception that it is more concerned with advancing Washington’s agenda than promoting sustainable development.
A costly tool
At its core, USAID’s contradiction is clear—it operates under a dual mandate: providing humanitarian aid while advancing US foreign policy objectives. This conflict has exposed it as a costly tool of influence rather than a genuine vehicle for development. For Musk and his protégé, Trump, this agency has become expendable. Their preference lies in blunt instruments of power—trade pressure, military deals, and direct coercion—over the slow, indirect work of foreign aid.
The potential demise of USAID raises crucial questions about the shifting nature of US foreign policy. As America moves away from soft power, the reliance on hard power—economic leverage, military alliances, and direct influence—will emerge as the dominant approach in its new playbook. This shift could redefine global dynamics, where aid is no longer viewed as a tool for development but as a commodity linked to strategic objectives, as demonstrated in Trump’s approach to the Ukraine peace deal.
For now, the writing is on the wall. Those hoping for a revival of USAID are grasping at straws, waiting for a check that may never come. The agency’s demise has solidified the broader shift in US foreign policy, one that prioritizes hard power and transactional relationships over long-term commitments to development.