Whichever aphorism you favour: ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’ or ‘There’s no such thing as a free lunch,’ the lexicon is replete with the age-old wisdom that assistance comes at a price. Such wisdom, however, may now be subject to rewriting (at least in Britain), after the Conservative government’s International Development white paper was unveiled last Monday at the Global Food Security Summit in London.
In the provision of foreign aid, Britain must “acknowledge our past” and act with “humility,” the government has said, arguing that as a nation we have “much to learn, as well as much to offer” when it comes to implementing “positive change” overseas. Ministers have also stressed that the UK must alter its stance from an “outdated ‘donor-recipient’ model” to one of “mutual respect.”
The white paper is largely the brainchild of Development Minister Andrew Mitchell, and includes ambitious plans to help achieve the UN’s sustainable development goals by 2030, alongside a warning that “China’s growing role as an actor in international development marks a systemic shift in the global development landscape.” China’s $498bn in loan commitments between 2008 and 2021 and its “increased assertiveness in seeking to shape the international order” would tend to suggest that the Red Dragon has a more old-fashioned approach to aid than our own Foreign Ministry does.
Public support for foreign aid appears robust (roughly two-thirds of the population are in favour according to most surveys), although the rationale is more disjointed. Around 20% of Brits consider it a “moral duty to help the world’s poorest people, as a leading global power”; 15% believe in “lifting up other nations” to improve the global economy, and 13% view foreign aid through the lens of peacekeeping and security. While you can certainly make the case for it, there can be no denying that aid distribution is sloppy. Consider the £50 Million paid to China each year—in what way precisely does subsidising the world’s second largest economy benefit Britain?
Even accounting for the 2020 Covid dip from 0.7% to 0.5% of gross national income, Britain’s foreign aid budget still came in at a whopping £12.8 billion in 2022. In light of which, it’s probably worth reminding ourselves of the dire economic straits in which we find ourselves. Whatever Christmas bribe of his own money Chancellor Jeremy Hunt has afforded the taxpayer (not forgetting the backdrop of the highest tax burden since WWII), the key economic indicators are not ideal.
According to the Office for Budget Responsibility, living standards will not return to pre-pandemic levels until at least 2027-28, with next year’s growth forecast slashed from 1.8% to just 0.7%. NHS waiting lists are approaching 8 million, a record high. UK government debt has breached 100% of GDP for the first time in 62 years, and the Bank of England has put up interest rates 14 times since December 2021, leaving them at a 15-year high of 5.25%. If I were the average Brit this Christmas, I might be calling for the suspension of all foreign aid until such time as the economy can afford it—particularly if we are expected to bend the knee while dishing it out.
However, worse may be yet to come, with Lord Cameron firmly ensconced in the Foreign Office. ‘Call me Dave’ is not only on the case but on the spend, desirous to reinstate Britain’s 0.7% commitment to foreign aid. He has made it clear he intends to “unlock hundreds of billions of dollars over the next decade,” arguing that the UK must work hard to end global hunger by 2030: “crucially, we made these promises to every country and person on the planet—nobody would be left behind.” I suppose when your net worth is rumoured to be £40 Million, and you’ve homes in Cornwall, the Cotswolds and Notting Hill, these things do tend to niggle at night.
Notwithstanding the insatiable desire of successive Tory PMs to frustrate the Right of the party, as well as their core vote, there is something deeply suspicious about charity which demands simultaneous genuflection from its benefactors. Black Lives Matter was no doubt a successful con trick, but it looks like Western governments are becoming seduced by the model. As the Foreign Office bandies around terms like “humility” and “acknowledge our past,” without providing further details as to what that means, the allusion to reparations in all but name is hard to overlook.
Reparations are all the rage across the West at present, however unpopular such a policy might be with the electorate. U.S. states have already begun paying ‘reparations’ to their black citizens. Private companies, universities and even the Church of England are all following suit. Germany has officially acknowledged genocide during its occupation of Namibia, and pledged aid worth close to £1 Billion; Prime Minister Rutte offered a formal apology on behalf of Holland for its historic involvement in the slave trade, and even King Charles has expressed support for research into the monarchy’s slavery ties, while stopping short of an apology. Like Covid injections, how long before support for reparations becomes the liberal cause du jour? Will private citizens end up voluntarily donating chunks of their wealth, merely to display an ‘I’ve paid my reparations’ social media sticker?
In Britain, it’s probably still safe to say no Conservative government—no matter how bereft of conservatism—would ever publicly come out in favour of such a policy. But a Keir Starmer-led administration, that’s another matter.
Picking the taxpayer’s pocket is one thing. There is, however, something not only distasteful, but downright masochistic about the rush to pay money we don’t have, to right wrongs no one alive committed, nor anyone alive experienced—and to be chastised by our governments into the bargain. No country genuinely in need will mind particularly where the foreign aid comes from; and for those that do, perhaps they’d do better seeking handouts elsewhere?
Foreign Aid: Reparations in All but Name
Whichever aphorism you favour: ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’ or ‘There’s no such thing as a free lunch,’ the lexicon is replete with the age-old wisdom that assistance comes at a price. Such wisdom, however, may now be subject to rewriting (at least in Britain), after the Conservative government’s International Development white paper was unveiled last Monday at the Global Food Security Summit in London.
In the provision of foreign aid, Britain must “acknowledge our past” and act with “humility,” the government has said, arguing that as a nation we have “much to learn, as well as much to offer” when it comes to implementing “positive change” overseas. Ministers have also stressed that the UK must alter its stance from an “outdated ‘donor-recipient’ model” to one of “mutual respect.”
The white paper is largely the brainchild of Development Minister Andrew Mitchell, and includes ambitious plans to help achieve the UN’s sustainable development goals by 2030, alongside a warning that “China’s growing role as an actor in international development marks a systemic shift in the global development landscape.” China’s $498bn in loan commitments between 2008 and 2021 and its “increased assertiveness in seeking to shape the international order” would tend to suggest that the Red Dragon has a more old-fashioned approach to aid than our own Foreign Ministry does.
Public support for foreign aid appears robust (roughly two-thirds of the population are in favour according to most surveys), although the rationale is more disjointed. Around 20% of Brits consider it a “moral duty to help the world’s poorest people, as a leading global power”; 15% believe in “lifting up other nations” to improve the global economy, and 13% view foreign aid through the lens of peacekeeping and security. While you can certainly make the case for it, there can be no denying that aid distribution is sloppy. Consider the £50 Million paid to China each year—in what way precisely does subsidising the world’s second largest economy benefit Britain?
Even accounting for the 2020 Covid dip from 0.7% to 0.5% of gross national income, Britain’s foreign aid budget still came in at a whopping £12.8 billion in 2022. In light of which, it’s probably worth reminding ourselves of the dire economic straits in which we find ourselves. Whatever Christmas bribe of his own money Chancellor Jeremy Hunt has afforded the taxpayer (not forgetting the backdrop of the highest tax burden since WWII), the key economic indicators are not ideal.
According to the Office for Budget Responsibility, living standards will not return to pre-pandemic levels until at least 2027-28, with next year’s growth forecast slashed from 1.8% to just 0.7%. NHS waiting lists are approaching 8 million, a record high. UK government debt has breached 100% of GDP for the first time in 62 years, and the Bank of England has put up interest rates 14 times since December 2021, leaving them at a 15-year high of 5.25%. If I were the average Brit this Christmas, I might be calling for the suspension of all foreign aid until such time as the economy can afford it—particularly if we are expected to bend the knee while dishing it out.
However, worse may be yet to come, with Lord Cameron firmly ensconced in the Foreign Office. ‘Call me Dave’ is not only on the case but on the spend, desirous to reinstate Britain’s 0.7% commitment to foreign aid. He has made it clear he intends to “unlock hundreds of billions of dollars over the next decade,” arguing that the UK must work hard to end global hunger by 2030: “crucially, we made these promises to every country and person on the planet—nobody would be left behind.” I suppose when your net worth is rumoured to be £40 Million, and you’ve homes in Cornwall, the Cotswolds and Notting Hill, these things do tend to niggle at night.
Notwithstanding the insatiable desire of successive Tory PMs to frustrate the Right of the party, as well as their core vote, there is something deeply suspicious about charity which demands simultaneous genuflection from its benefactors. Black Lives Matter was no doubt a successful con trick, but it looks like Western governments are becoming seduced by the model. As the Foreign Office bandies around terms like “humility” and “acknowledge our past,” without providing further details as to what that means, the allusion to reparations in all but name is hard to overlook.
Reparations are all the rage across the West at present, however unpopular such a policy might be with the electorate. U.S. states have already begun paying ‘reparations’ to their black citizens. Private companies, universities and even the Church of England are all following suit. Germany has officially acknowledged genocide during its occupation of Namibia, and pledged aid worth close to £1 Billion; Prime Minister Rutte offered a formal apology on behalf of Holland for its historic involvement in the slave trade, and even King Charles has expressed support for research into the monarchy’s slavery ties, while stopping short of an apology. Like Covid injections, how long before support for reparations becomes the liberal cause du jour? Will private citizens end up voluntarily donating chunks of their wealth, merely to display an ‘I’ve paid my reparations’ social media sticker?
In Britain, it’s probably still safe to say no Conservative government—no matter how bereft of conservatism—would ever publicly come out in favour of such a policy. But a Keir Starmer-led administration, that’s another matter.
Picking the taxpayer’s pocket is one thing. There is, however, something not only distasteful, but downright masochistic about the rush to pay money we don’t have, to right wrongs no one alive committed, nor anyone alive experienced—and to be chastised by our governments into the bargain. No country genuinely in need will mind particularly where the foreign aid comes from; and for those that do, perhaps they’d do better seeking handouts elsewhere?
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