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Viruses don’t respect borders and nine other reasons why aid is vital for security

Cuts are a dangerous false economy.

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

Cargo sits in nets inside a plane, a sign reads 'UK Aid'
Neil Bryden RAF/MOD, Wikimedia Commons.

 The Minister for International Development Anneliese Dodds took the difficult step to resign following the Prime Minister’s announcement this week that he is slashing the aid budget to pay for more weapons. Minister Dodds wrote in her resignation letter that:  

“Ultimately, these cuts will remove food and healthcare from vulnerable people." 

The hefty reduction in our international aid budget does indeed put lives at risk around the world. However, the move also serves to undermine our own national security. A strong UK presence on the world stage comes not primarily through military strength but through diplomacy and targeted development funding.  

General Lord Dannatt, former Chief of the General Staff, commented: 

“In the wider world, it’s disappointing that we’re probably going to plunder the international development budget, because the UK’s influence in the world often comes through a combination of our hard power and our soft power, our diplomacy and our development funds.” 

International aid is proven to be one of the most effective ways to build prosperity and peace. It is a strategic investment in national and international security, arguably more useful and cost-effective than military defence spending.  

Cutting aid budgets may release funds in the short term, but in reality, it weakens Britain’s influence, undermines global stability, and increases security risks. It is not only false economy, but a potentially dangerous and counterproductive shift in policy.   

Here are ten reasons why international aid is such a crucial investment in security: 

1. Addressing root causes reduces terrorism.

Foreign aid helps foster peace, reduce poverty, and support development in the most vulnerable regions. When countries are stable, they are less likely to fall into chaos or become breeding grounds for terrorism and extremism. UK-funded education initiatives in Pakistan and Somalia, such as the Girls’ Education Challenge, have provided over 1.5 million marginalized girls with schooling, reducing the vulnerability of young people to extremist recruitment. By decreasing the appeal of radicalization, this investment has contributed to lowering the long-term threat of terrorism against British citizens at home and abroad. 

2. Investing in global health reduces pandemic risks.  

Viruses don’t respect borders. Our funding for Ebola response in West Africa has helped prevent global outbreaks, reducing the risk of deadly diseases spreading to the UK. Similarly, by investing in vaccinations against new strains of Covid around the world, Britain has strengthened its own pandemic preparedness and safeguarded public health at home. 

3. Stronger relationships between nations reduce conflict 

Post civil war UK support for Sierra Leone helped train police and government officials, strengthening long-term diplomatic ties and preventing a return to instability that might have spilled across the continent. This has also helped position the UK as a trusted diplomatic partner in West Africa, leading to trade agreements and political alliances that benefit Britain’s global interests. 

4. Supporting stability reduces forced migration.

It is now acknowledged that it is building anchors, not walls, that is the best strategy to curb migration. The UK Aid Direct programme has provided economic and social support in countries like Syria, Lebanon, and Afghanistan, reducing forced displacement and lowering pressure on UK border security. By stabilizing regions affected by conflict, Britain has been able to reduce illegal migration and the associated costs of border enforcement, asylum processing, and emergency housing. 

5. Promoting sustainability reduces resource scarcity due to climate change.  

The UK International Climate Finance (ICF) initiative supports sustainable agriculture and clean energy projects in Africa and Asia, mitigating competition over dwindling resources and preventing climate-driven conflicts that have contributed to making the world a more turbulent place. This has not only improved global stability but has also created opportunities for UK businesses in the green energy and sustainable development sectors. 

6. Building resilience reduces international crime and instability.  

UK funding has been instrumental in stabilizing Somalia, for example, improving their governance, training law enforcement, and reducing crime and piracy that threaten not only international shipping but tourism too. As a result, British shipping companies and tourists traveling in the region have faced fewer security risks, boosting confidence in UK-led trade and travel. 

7. Preventing famine and malnutrition reduces political instability.

The UK-funded Famine Early Warning Systems Network (FEWS NET) has helped prevent food crises in East Africa, reducing the likelihood of mass migration and conflict over resources. Without that investment, Britain would have likely spent far more on emergency humanitarian relief and crisis management, demonstrating the cost-effectiveness of preventative aid. 

8. Building stronger economies abroad creates opportunities.  

UK trade-focused aid, such as through the Prosperity Fund, has helped African nations develop stable economies, creating trade opportunities for Britain while reducing dependence on fragile states. Stronger economies in partner countries mean increased demand for British exports, benefiting UK businesses and job creation. 

9. Humanitarian aid strengthens a nation’s global influence.

The UK has been a major donor in response to the Rohingya refugee crisis, contributing £350 million to support displaced people in Bangladesh and Myanmar—enhancing Britain’s standing as a global humanitarian leader and leading to soft power advantage on the global stage. This goodwill has translated into stronger diplomatic relations with key allies in South Asia, supporting UK interests in trade, security, and regional stability. 

10. Disaster response builds goodwill and strategic partnerships. 

Following the 2010 Haiti earthquake, the UK provided £20 million in emergency aid, strengthening ties with Caribbean nations and showcasing Britain’s global leadership in crisis response. These efforts have reinforced Britain’s role as a reliable partner in times of crisis, leading to closer economic and diplomatic relationships with countries across the Caribbean. 

If the West vacates aid funding it creates a very significant vacuum into which other countries will step. For example, Russia has already sent Wagner mercenaries to patrol the Central African Republic and Mali. This is not only bad for the citizens of those areas, but also from a UK national security perspective. It would be extremely concerning if the Russian state were able to build a sweeping base of influence and soft power in the global South. 

With an increasingly fragile world, the tool that is most useful for national security at this time is international aid. The rise in conflict, migration, terrorism and other pre-war conditions is directly due to the impact of poverty – which now affects 44 per cent of the global population, wealth concentration – which increases the chance of financial crises, weakened trade routes – due to Brexit, war in Ukraine and the Middle East, and new tariff policies in the US, and climate change – which exacerbates all those tensions.  If the UK want an effective defence strategy in these turbulent times, we must reconsider doubling down on our international aid commitments, not abandoning them.  

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Article
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5 min read

I protested against the Unite The Kingdom protest

The need to see one another

Thomas is a writer exploring the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

CCTV footage show two rival protests divided by a line of riot police.
CCTV image of the rival protests on Whitehall.
Met Police.

I don’t know why I was so concerned about the horses. I kept noticing them swaying through the sea of shivering bodies. I was so drawn to them that I tried to take a photo, a rare occurrence for me, but I was too far away. The horses riders, dressed in full riot gear, were being pelted with beer bottles. Maybe the horses were getting hit too, but it felt like they were recoiling on behalf of their riders. 

In front of the horses, engulfing Trafalgar Square, were tens of thousands of “Unite the Kingdom” protestors. From what I could see, they were predominantly white men. Many of them were dancing and waving flags, but a sizeable contingent was furious, drunk, and insisted on attacking any unfortunate police officer in their way. 

Behind the horses, lining the streets of Whitehall, were five thousand counter-protestors, including me. Unlike our opposite numbers in Trafalgar Square, we were trapped, surrounded on every side by St George’s flags, Union Jacks, and, oddly, some Georgian flags too. Maybe the shop had sold out. To my right, I could see the counter-protestors defiantly dancing. To me left, I could see a group chanting “Nazi scum, off our streets” whilst swearing towards the St George’s flags. 

There in the middle, I found myself feeling a curious mixture of discomfort, sadness, and anger. Uncomfortable because I’d been trapped for four hours, stuck on a continuous cycle of rinse and drain. Sad, because I knew that much of the “Unite the Kingdom” violence was built on misinformation and the scapegoating of refugees, a group I know well, and because this fog of violence blew over the counter-protestors as they hurled insults towards the St George’s flags. And angry, because figures like Elon Musk were using their extraordinary wealth and influence to spread fear and lies: “Whether you choose violence or not, violence is coming to you. You either fight back or you die. You either fight back or you die. And that’s the truth. It’s only a matter of time till that happens to towns and villages. It will spread. And no one will have any peace.” Over the years, I have spent many hundreds, if not thousands, of hours with refugees and asylum seekers, both in my home and at my church. I had experienced no violence. In that moment, I was surrounded by “leftists”, socialists, and trade unionists, and the only violence I was experiencing was from the glint of beer bottles raining down on the police two hundred meters away. 

I was grateful for the interruption of an elderly lady asking if she could get past. I’d been asked a number of questions throughout the day, primarily because I was one of a group of four Christians holding signs like “Jesus was a refugee”, “love thy neighbour”, and “I was a stranger and you welcomed me”. At the start of the protest, an older lady and a young man joined our circle. The young man asked “I’m glad to see there are some Christians here. What do you think of Christian nationalism? Your religion doesn’t feel much like Jesus?” He was a brave Saudi Arabian refugee with a bright smile, earnestly questioning the fractures in my community of faith. Taken aback by the poignancy of the question, I fumbled a response before being rescued by one of my friends. 

Protest signs written on cardboard.
Tommy's protest signs before the rain.

 

After a while, the older lady started speaking. “Sorry for interrupting. I used to be a Roman Catholic, but I’ve lost my faith. On days like this though, I always want to pray. I don’t feel much hope for the church. A while ago, I went into a catholic church. I asked if the church could do anything about the divisions in our community and the anger at refugees. The priest shrugged and said no. I’m glad you’re here.” Her short, staccato sentences mirrored the tension of the day. I told her about how our church serves refugees, how I struggle with the anger of days like today, and how some of us have forgotten that the bible tells us to welcome the stranger dozens of times. As they walked away, I felt touched by the honesty both the young and old had gifted to four strangers, and I was glad to be carrying our smalls signs of hope. 

The megaphone brought the present back into view with another question. “Could everyone please get ready to leave up the left of Trafalgar Square?” it said. The police had cleared a path for us to leave, the sea of flags artificially parted by riot gear. We were escorted to Green Park tube station, at which point we turned off towards Oxford Street. My wife remarked at how quickly normality returned. I was devastated by the day, but felt too tired to weep. I wasn’t quite the same Tommy that I’d been that morning. The man who shares my name, and the chaos he wrought on my city, had turned a dial in me a little further than it had been turned before. 

I knew that I would have more days like this. In the midst of my discomfort, sadness, hope, and fear, I knew that I was supposed to be there, holding my soggy “Jesus was a refugee” sign, shivering in my damp clothes, and praying under my breath. I knew that I needed to gather other reluctant protestors alongside me, holding their own soggy signs and praying their own prayers. 

And I also knew that there was a better way to carry this fragile message of unity in our increasingly fragile land and increasingly fragile time. As a half-British, half-South African man, I’ve had the privilege of growing up with the stories of the anti-apartheid movement, stories which steward the hard-earned truth that defiant, tenacious, persistent love is the only antidote to hatred, misinformation and fear. As Desmond Tutu once said, “when we can accept both our humanity and the perpetrator’s we can write a new story”. Saturday left me feeling that we desperately need a new story, and that requires us to look beyond the swaying horses and see one another clearly. 

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