Think tank plan to cut aid would cost millions of lives

Capping the international development budget would send out the wrong signal to the rest of the worl

Another day, another right-wing think tank calling for the international aid budget to be cut. This time it is the Centre for Policy Studies and the proceeds are to be spent on tax cuts, including scrapping the 50p income tax rate. Putting aside whether tax cuts are the best way to spend extra funding, is capping the DFID budget at the 2010/11 for the next two years really a good way to save £1.3bn?

It would mean that Britain would fail to reach the UN target of spending 0.7 per cent of gross national income on overseas aid, a promise that all three major political parties made at the last election. It would also mean that the UK no longer had credibility to criticise other G8 countries, like Italy, for failing to meet the promises they made at Gleneagles. And finally, it would signal to other G8 countries that it is OK to cut aid spending during a downturn and, in the words of Development Secretary Andrew Mitchell, to "balance the books on the backs of the world's poorest people".

At a more practical level, the CPS report devotes just three paragraphs to explaining how £1.3bn could be cut from the aid budget and makes just two arguments for why this is a good idea.

The first is that:

India is establishing its own aid agency, distributing $11 billion over the next ten years, raising questions as to why the UK still grants it, and other large countries, substantial sums of aid.

I'll try and answer these questions for them: India is home to more people living in poverty (those living life on less than $1.25 a day) than the whole of sub-Saharan Africa. The UK's aid budget devoted to India is just short of £300m a year and almost half of it is spent on healthcare, tackling maternal mortality and malaria, the main killers of women and children.

When I worked for DFID, I was lucky enough to visit a slum in West Bengal where UK taxpayers' money had paid for the installation of toilets and basic sanitation: clean running water and a sewer system for waste. I was humbled. Perhaps the Indian government should have paid for it, rather than for a space programme, but it's hard to look a child in the face and make that argument, even through an interpreter. While India has huge wealth, it also has huge inequality and the UK's promise to help people in absolute poverty should be honoured.

The other CPS argument is that:

Aid itself should focus on emergency relief and correcting for market failures in health issues; not on capital projects.

Just across the border from India, in another "large country", the UK taxpayer invests £150m a year in Pakistan. Some of this is spent on health issues and yet more is spent on emergency relief, like when the region was devastated by flooding earlier this year. But if the UK taxpayer turned their back on capital projects, the 255,000 people made homeless would have been left to live in tents. A fifth of the DFID budget in Pakistan is spent on "Governance", a direct up-stream attempt to prevent conflict, instability and ultimately terrorism on the streets of the UK. Another fifth of the budget is spent on education, literally building schools so that primary age children can learn to read and one day get jobs trading with UK companies.

Cutting the UK aid budget by £1.3bn is easy to write into a think tank report but far harder to do. If the entire UK aid budget for India and Pakistan was cut, you would still be looking for nearly £1bn more in savings. If you cut the entire admin budget of the department (meaning they would literally have no staff left) you could only save £214m. To find this level of savings, you would need to cut the entire contribution to the United Nations and the World Bank or cut the entire bilateral aid programme for the whole of sub-Saharan Africa by more than 75 per cent.

Irrespective of the whether CPS are right to argue for tax breaks, whatever way you cut it, taking £1.3bn from the UK aid budget would cost millions of lives across the developing world. They should think again.

Richard Darlington is Head of News at IPPR and was Special Adviser at DFID 2007-2010

Richard Darlington is Head of News at IPPR. Follow him on Twitter @RDarlo.

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Leader: Mourning in Manchester

Yet another attack shows we are going to have to get to used to the idea that our liberalism and our freedoms can only be preserved by a strong state.

Children are murdered and maimed by a suicide bomber as they are leaving a pop concert in Manchester. As a consequence, the government raises the terror threat to “critical”, which implies that another attack is imminent, and the army is sent out on to the streets of our cities in an attempt to reassure and encourage all good citizens to carry on as normal. The general election campaign is suspended. Islamic State gleefully denounces the murdered and wounded as “crusaders” and “polytheists”.

Meanwhile, the usual questions are asked, as they are after each new Islamist terrorist atrocity. Why do they hate us so much? Have they no conscience or pity or sense of fellow feeling? We hear, too, the same platitudes: there is more that unites us than divides us, and so on. And so we wait for the next attack on innocent civilians, the next assault on the free and open society, the next demonstration that Islamism is the world’s most malignant and dangerous ideology.

The truth of the matter is that the Manchester suicide bomber, Salman Ramadan Abedi, was born and educated in Britain. He was 22 when he chose to end his own life. He had grown up among us: indeed, like the London bombers of 7 July 2005, you could call him, however reluctantly, one of us. The son of Libyan refugees, he supported Manchester United, studied business management at Salford University and worshipped at Didsbury Mosque. Yet he hated this country and its people so viscerally that he was prepared to blow himself up in an attempt to murder and wound as many of his fellow citizens as possible.

The Manchester massacre was an act of nihilism by a wicked man. It was also sadly inevitable. “The bomb was,” writes the Mancunian cultural commentator Stuart Maconie on page 26, “as far as we can guess, an attack on the fans of a young American woman and entertainer, on the frivolousness and foolishness and fun of young girlhood, on lipstick and dressing up and dancing, on ‘boyfs’ and ‘bezzies’ and all the other freedoms that so enrage the fanatics and contradict their idiot dogmas. Hatred of women is a smouldering core of their wider, deeper loathing for us. But to single out children feels like a new low of wickedness.”

We understand the geopolitical context for the atrocity. IS is under assault and in retreat in its former strongholds of Mosul and Raqqa. Instead of urging recruits to migrate to the “caliphate”, IS has been urging its sympathisers and operatives in Europe to carry out attacks in their countries of residence. As our contributing writer and terrorism expert, Shiraz Maher, explains on page 22, these attacks are considered to be acts of revenge by the foot soldiers and fellow-travellers of the caliphate. There have been Western interventions in Muslim lands and so, in their view, all civilians in Western countries are legitimate targets for retaliatory violence.

An ever-present threat of terrorism is the new reality of our lives in Europe. If these zealots can murder children at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, there is no action that they would not consider unconscionable. And in this country there are many thousands – perhaps even tens of thousands – who are in thrall to Islamist ideology. “Terror makes the new future possible,” the American Don DeLillo wrote in his novel Mao II, long before the al-Qaeda attacks of 11 September 2001. The main work of terrorists “involves mid-air explosions and crumbled buildings. This is the new tragic narrative.”

Immediately after the Paris attacks in November 2015, John Gray reminded us in these pages of how “peaceful coexistence is not the default condition of modern humankind”. We are going to have to get used to the idea that our liberalism and our freedoms can only be preserved by a strong state. “The progressive narrative in which freedom is advancing throughout the world has left liberal societies unaware of their fragility,” John Gray wrote. Liberals may not like it, but a strong state is the precondition of any civilised social order. Certain cherished freedoms may have to be compromised. This is the new tragic narrative.

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

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