When Foreign Aid is Imposed: Is It by Force?

Foreign aid is often described as generosity, the world reaching into its pockets to help those “less fortunate.” But for those of us who grew up under its shadow, it rarely felt like kindness. It felt like control. And too often, it felt like force.

It’s been months since the new U.S. administration decided to pull USAID funding from several regions around the globe. Jobs were lost, programs frozen, lives upended. I don’t deny the chaos. I don’t deny that people had to adapt. But let’s pause and ask: what exactly have decades of foreign aid really done for Africa?

Since Michael Jackson sang, We Are the World in 1985, billions of dollars have poured into African nations. You would think that with all that aid, things would have changed. But here we are, in many places, things are worse.

A Flood of Help That Never Helps

Take the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), where I grew up.

• The FONGI-RDC forum lists over 124 international NGOs in the country.

• The UK’s NGO Explorer shows 591 UK-registered charities operating in the DRC.

• Altogether, including local organizations, there are around 4,000 civil society groups active.

With so many organizations, trucks, logos, and “projects,” you would expect Congo to be a shining light of development. Instead, we remain stuck in cycles of poverty and war. Aid has become less about the people it claims to serve and more about sustaining itself. It is an industry, a business model that thrives on suffering.

The Other Side of Aid: My Childhood Lens

Growing up, UN cars and trucks with logos were everywhere. Their presence became normal. We assumed they were there to help, even in areas where there was no active conflict. But their presence was imposed. And from a young age, I learned that foreign aid could be dangerous.

I was 11 years old, walking to buy candy. A UN soldier began following me in his car. At first, I thought nothing of it. But he slowed his vehicle, leaned out, and called to me, trying to lure me inside. When I ignored him, he edged the car closer, forcing me off the road. My legs moved faster, my heart pounding. And when he realized I wasn’t giving in, he leaned out and flipped his middle finger at me. I was just a child, clutching coins for candy, and the very person meant to “protect” the community mocked me, humiliated me, and discarded me. That was what “help” felt like.

It wasn’t just me. UN soldiers in Congo were known to abuse young girls, some as young as 12, leaving women with children in a society that punishes single mothers. These children grew up facing stigma, seeing themselves as outsiders in their own land.

Sexual exploitation wasn’t limited to men. Some foreign women aid workers pursued married African men, creating rifts in families and reinforcing a narrative that African lives and marriages were experiments for outsiders. This wasn’t just scandal; it was systemic. These acts, though less often reported, left communities fractured.

The Housing Market: When Aid Workers Price Out Locals

Aid brings money, and with it, power. Expat salaries can be ten or twenty times what locals earn.

This was especially evident in Goma. Imagine a house that should rent for $300/month suddenly going for $1,200 because an NGO worker can pay more. Landlords see dollars, not communities. Locals are priced out of their own neighborhoods.

I witnessed this firsthand in Goma. Families who should have had access to safe housing were displaced by the influx of high-paid expatriates. Yes, governments are responsible for regulation, but the very reason NGOs are present is government inefficiency. Aid fills the gaps, but in doing so, it often widens them.

Inferiority, Superiority, and the Silent Power of Aid

There’s another layer to foreign aid: psychology.

Growing up, I absorbed the unspoken message that anyone with lighter skin, who was foreign, automatically “knew better.” It wasn’t taught in school, it was everywhere, in the way foreigners walked with authority, how locals deferred to them, and the silent fear of questioning.

This mindset made people vulnerable, to exploitation, to manipulation, and to remaining silent.

In 2019, in Gisenyi, Rwanda, I witnessed a white Mercy Corps worker speaking to a Rwandan immigration officer. The officer, confused by her English, asked a colleague in Kinyarwanda for clarification. The aid worker slammed her hand on the desk and demanded they speak English, on their own ancestral land. That kind of arrogance wasn’t unusual. It was embedded in the system of aid.

Aid and Conflict: The Perfect Storm

Aid doesn’t just fail to solve problems, it can fuel them.

• There have been multiple cases of UN soldiers caught smuggling minerals out of Congo, minerals that fuel the very wars aid workers claim to stop.

• Between January and July 2025, Congo’s health ministry recorded 73,400 cases of sexual violence, a third involving girls under 16.

• Women in Goma were raped and burned alive after an M23 prison attack. UN investigators were blocked from even looking into it.

While aid logos are plastered across billboards, people are still dying in ways that qualify as war crimes. And when locals march demanding accountability, the UN often resists. Why? Because African suffering has become a business plan. Aid agencies need chaos to exist. Dependency deepens, and the cycle continues.

Recognizing What Works

I want to be clear: this is not a personal grudge. It’s the status quo. Foreign aid is not what the world outside Africa imagines. It has very serious negative effects.

But because we are human, we must acknowledge when aid is done right. There are doctors, engineers, and skilled individuals who dedicate their time and expertise to genuinely help communities. These are the people who share knowledge, train locals, and create programs that survive long after they leave.

Africa must regain its dignity and be rigorous in deciding what help is acceptable. Not every hand extended should be grasped blindly. Skilled workers should be accountable, collaborative, and focused on leaving lasting impact. Governments must be selective, aid without accountability can reinforce inferiority and dependency.

So, What Now?

If USAID pulls out, maybe it’s not the disaster some think. Maybe it’s a chance. Because what Africa needs is not more saviors. It needs sovereignty:

• Governments that work

• Systems that hold people accountable

• Infrastructure owned by locals

• Businesses that grow from within

• Justice for past and present exploitation

Aid has been around for decades, and yet here we are. Perhaps real liberation comes when we stop waiting for someone else to rescue us.

Because the truth is this: Africa doesn’t need more aid. Africa needs freedom.

Sources & Articles

• NGO numbers in DRC – Overseas Development Institute: International NGOs in the DRC (ODI, 2020). odi.org

• UK charities in DRC – NGO Explorer database. ngoexplorer.org

• UN sexual abuse – Sexual Exploitation by UN Peacekeepers in the DRC (Academic paper). diva-portal.org

• 2024 misconduct allegations – AP News: UN records over 100 allegations of sexual abuse by peacekeepers. apnews.com

• Sexual violence data in 2025 – AP News: Over 73,000 cases of sexual violence in Congo. apnews.com

• Mass rape & killings in Goma – The Guardian: Women raped and burned alive in Goma. theguardian.com

• UN/war crimes in Congo – Reuters: M23 and Congolese forces accused of war crimes. reuters.com