A scaling back of international development commitments among developed countries is indisputably part of the political zeitgeist our age. The decimation of USAID, and dismantling of longstanding initiatives like PEPFARS under the second Trump administration is the most stark example, but it is by no means isolated. In 2020, the British Conservative government abolished the cabinet-level Department for International Development (DFID). The subsequent Labour government not only failed to reinstate it but continued cuts, bringing aid spending to its lowest level since the 20th century.
This is a tragedy – and for more reasons than may be immediately obvious. The conventional arguments in favour of aid spending are instinctive and easy to understand – alleviating human suffering is a noble cause – but that is not all. In a much-publicised essay last month, former Prime Minister Tony Blair articulated an altogether more self-interested case: DFID’s disbanding has decimated Britain’s soft power in a “developing world which is developing fast”. Britain’s reputation in places like Africa – projected to house 40% of the global population by the end of the century – is a matter of genuine political significance. Walking away does not bode well for Britain’s role in a future world with a massively shifted balance of power.
True, we inhabit a very different world to Blair’s heyday in the early 2000s, but that does not diminish the strength of his argument. Escalating defence spending is now a strategic necessity, and there are growing calls in Africa for self-sufficiency and equal partnership with the West; this poses challenges to state-led development assistance, but presents opportunities for the country’s private sector to proactively support the global aid ecosystem in ways that bolster self-reliance and improve the country’s international reputation.
The defence manufacturing sector has an especially important role to play here. Surplus military hardware like planes and armoured vehicles are crucial to aid distribution networks, precisely because they have been designed to be robust and effective in remote locales. Doing so allows these companies, that make millions during times of war, to reinvest their profits to support peace – a much-needed PR win for an industry that frequently arouses ethical suspicions.
In the UK, BAE Systems-manufactured aircraft have been used by private operators to deliver aid to vulnerable populations; a visible, on-the-ground presence that makes a tangible difference to thousands of lives. However, the company’s reputation has come under scrutiny after it suddenly revoked the airworthiness certificate for aircraft used by a Kenyan cargo operator to distribute humanitarian aid across East Africa.
When British companies like BAE, who benefit from millions in government contracts, eschew these responsibilities so brazenly, it massively damages national prestige in a region that will only become more important geopolitically. Revoking the certificate was unforced, highly irregular by aviation industry standards, and was of relatively little financial consequence given BAE’s sky-high profits. It does however come at both a human and reputational cost felt not just by BAE but Britain as a whole.
Private sector actions such as these project an image of a country that is unwilling to or uninterested in engaging with the developing world. As shifting alliances make the world more complex and dangerous, the worst response is to bury one’s head in the sand. Britain must, for its own sake, be a visible and constructive partner to developing nations; and this responsibility extends beyond the government. Major global British companies like BAE have a significant impact on how the country is perceived worldwide. It is time they started acting like it.
