I stood once in a dusty clinic outside Nairobi where British funding had helped stock shelves with malaria drugs. The nurse there spoke quietly of lives steadied, at least for a season. Now those shelves risk emptying. The latest figures from the Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office show bilateral aid to several African partners being cut by as much as 93 per cent by 2029.
The numbers land with the bluntness of balance-sheet logic. Official development assistance drops from 0.5 per cent of gross national income to 0.3 per cent by 2027/28, passing through 0.48 per cent next year and 0.37 per cent the year after. The money freed goes to defence, which rises to 2.6 per cent of GDP in 2027. In a world grown more dangerous, the choice is stark.
Bilateral aid to Africa as a whole falls from £1.6 billion to under £700 million through to 2029, according to The Independent. Over the shorter window from 2025/26 to 2027/28 the figure slips from £818 million to £688 million. Nine countries face reductions exceeding 80 per cent. Kenya sees 93 per cent gone. Tanzania loses 91 per cent. Mozambique and Malawi each face 90 per cent cuts by 2029. Zambia drops 88 per cent. Rwanda and Sierra Leone follow close behind.
Some long-standing partners will see support virtually eliminated or reduced to £5 million or less. The pattern is clear. Direct grants that once flowed country by country give way to multilateral channels, investment vehicles and narrower technical help. The government says it will concentrate what remains on fragile states, humanitarian emergencies, global health, climate work, economic growth and programmes for women and girls.
The FCDO annual report and accounts for 2025-26, published around 16-17 July, set out the country allocations to 2028/29. The shift was signalled in 2025 and detailed further in March 2026. It continues a retreat from the old 0.7 per cent target that began in 2021. Ministers have spoken of moving toward modernised partnerships rather than open-ended grants. In plain terms, Britain is choosing to spend more on its own armed forces and less on distant bureaucracies.
Questioning the old model
For years the aid machine operated on the assumption that generous transfers would buy stability, gratitude or measurable development. The record is patchier than its defenders admit. Corruption siphoned funds in some capitals. Projects folded once the money stopped. Local institutions rarely grew strong enough to replace the donor drip. Taxpayers at home, squeezed by domestic pressures, grew weary of writing cheques with so little visible return.
