Opinion: Confessions of an angry global south development practitioner

Discussions in the global development and humanitarian sectors are becoming more vocal about their failings. As a long-time development practitioner from the so-called global south, instead of encouraging me, these conversations are becoming more and more angering and frustrating, and it is getting harder for me to participate in them. For the last three years, after finally deciding to leave the development aid sector after almost 30 years, I found a new voice in challenging its inequities. This was via the “decolonization of aid” mantra that suddenly swept the industry during the initial months of the COVID-19 pandemic. It spread rapidly among a select group of us who were tired of the old colonial practices still in existence in a post-colonial era of “white people” coming and telling the rest of us what to do. It was further bolstered by adding “localization” and “shift the power” to its repertoire. And thus, a new industry within an industry was born. My concern is not with the modalities, functionalities or utility of foreign aid (anymore). It is with the plight of my own people, in my own country, with or without aid. --— I lapped it up as much as anyone else, desperate to find a way to express the anger and frustration I had felt throughout my career toward the development programs that were imposed upon us by the so-called global north. And for a while it felt as if those of us who the development system had stifled through its U.S.- and Euro-centric, autocratic control were finally getting the chance to tell our side of the story. But soon, cracks began to appear. For one, the discussions were predominantly being led by organizations in the so-called global north. Understandably, it was them who had the most to lose in this new post-aid world being hotly debated. International NGOs — aka so-called global north-based organizations embedded in several countries of the so-called global south — themselves suffering from issues of racism, abuse and inequality, began to strategize on their roles in a “changing world.” Webinars, conferences, and debates on decolonizing aid littered the now digital realm, supposedly helping to “bridge the gap” between countries at two ends of the development spectrum. Yet, somehow, the so-called global north continued to speak down to us and impose change on us, instead of the other way around. I gradually began to feel like the token nonwhite person invited to speak in a predominantly white digital landscape. I soon realized no one was listening. Or if they were, they simply were not interested in understanding the issues. It is not about how to make aid “better” or more “efficient.” It is not about whether international NGOs — a problematic categorization in itself — still have a role to play in a multibillion-dollar industry. It is certainly not about whether we should consider ending aid given its origins in coloniality. Instead, the focus has been the exact opposite. It is about the survival of Western organizations vis-à-vis what they can do to continue playing a prominent role. An almost cult-like commune was being created around this, perpetuating a new form of colonialism within an emerging industry of so-called resistance toward coloniality. New coalitions, bargains, pledges, collaborations and strategies have emerged, most of which still center the white, Western INGO. They cry foul when northern governments decide to cut aid, not realizing (or maybe they do) that they are perpetuating the same agenda they claim to want to change. And keep their jobs. Meanwhile, our countries, the ones whose autonomy these discussions are allegedly about, continue to literally fall to pieces. I see my own country, Pakistan, bearing an immense brunt of economic and political instability, climate disruption, conflict, and power struggles. I live and breathe inequality as a daily routine. I look outside my doorstep and I see chaos. None of these microdetails which create the environment for aid dependency, are ever reflected in the change the West claims are needed to shift, reclaim, decolonize, or localize power, depending on the mood at hand. The fickleness of the decolonial aid industry in the West isn’t so much about introspection as it is about desperately trying to maintain a permanent presence outside their borders. I also see the struggles and personal sacrifices many organizations and individuals are selflessly making in my country and others like mine, literally putting their lives at risk to change their communities for the better. For instance, those fighting for land rights, women’s emancipation, or Indigenous rights. I’ve seen current discussions disingenuously ignore and demean this work by centering on the survival of the foreign aid industry and its offshoots. These contradictions and inequalities are why I feel more and more uncomfortable being part of this exclusive, elite circle. My concern is not with the modalities, functionalities or utility of foreign aid (anymore). It is with the plight of my own people, in my own country, with or without aid. The larger discussions on aid inequities aren’t concerned with whether the fruit vendor, daily wage laborer, or domestic house help is able to provide for their family. But I see them every day. Not having them reflected, let alone acknowledged, is insulting and humiliating, to them and to me. When I attend online discussions led and convened by those whose experiences and contexts are similar to mine, the energy is different. Change seems possible. The issues are raw and real. We understand each other better so we are able to respond to each other better. This is the crux of change. So I refuse to be co-opted into any more discussions “led” by the so-called global north, trying to figure out how they could change (but without really changing). At a time when inequality, war, conflict and poverty are more prominent across the world than ever, it's time to be the change ourselves, in our own countries. I hope others will follow.