The latest numbers on foreign aid are out, and 2025 proved to be a record-breaking year – but not for the right reasons. It was a historic retreat, with a devastating impact. And there is no sign that aid will recover.

A series of records

According to the OECD’s preliminary figures for 2025, official development assistance (ODA) from the members of its Development Assistance Committee (DAC), which are essentially Western donors, including Japan and Korea, decreased by 23% in a single year. There have been aid cuts in the past, but this is the largest annual drop in the history of ODA. In just one year, it set aid levels back to where they were a decade ago.

What was different this time is the depth and breadth of the cuts. Out of the DAC’s 34 members, 26 countries reduced their aid budgets. The US wielded the largest machete, slicing 57% off its aid spending – the largest annual aid reduction ever recorded.

As a result, Germany became the world’s largest donor for the first time, even if it too reduced its aid. Cuts by France, Germany, Japan and the UK all fell in the 6–17% range. It was the first time the top five donors ever cut back simultaneously.

The few DAC countries that did increase aid spending were all relatively small ones, such as Denmark, Iceland, Luxembourg, Norway and Spain, which bumped up their budgets by 3–11%. Much higher increases were registered by two “emerging” non-DAC donors: Qatar (23%) and the United Arab Emirates (56%).

Lots of losers, not many winners

Who is bearing the brunt of these dramatic cuts? The UN has been thrown into crisis, having lost 27% of its core funding, the largest annual decrease ever. The 80^th anniversary of the UN became an emergency cost-cutting exercise. Proposals on the table include shutting down UNAIDS and merging UN Women with UNFPA. WHO has been hit particularly hard.

Alarmingly, the humanitarian sector has suffered disproportionately. About 36% of its funding – more than US$15 billion – simply evaporated. In the past, humanitarian assistance usually was spared when aid budgets dropped, given the large number of lives directly at stake. The UN estimates that over 100 million people around the world will not get the urgent assistance they need as a result of last year’s cuts. One sector spared the carnage was assistance to the private sector, which increased by 13%.

The most affected region was Sub-Saharan Africa, which saw a 26% decrease in its bilateral aid receipts. Ukraine lost 38% of its bilateral aid, but still received more ODA than all of Sub-Saharan Africa combined.

The view from Canada

Canada’s 2.3% reduction in ODA last year may seem quite unremarkable amid the turmoil in the aid sector. But it is a step in the wrong direction, and the Canadian government plans to deepen the cuts over the next few years.

Moreover, some basic characteristics of Canadian aid show how misleading the aggregate figures can be. Last year, almost 36% of Canada’s ODA budget consisted of bilateral aid to a single country, Ukraine. By way of comparison, the DAC average is 6%. Ukraine is a worthy recipient, but such a high level of concentration of resources means that Canada’s modest aid program is spread far more thinly elsewhere.

In addition, according to the latest figures, almost one quarter of Canada’s ODA – 24% – was spent at home to help refugees settle in Canada (compared to the DAC average of 13%). That is also a worthy cause, but should not be counted as foreign aid. When 60% of ODA goes to Ukraine and refugee settlement in Canada, only 40% remains for the rest of the world, where needs are also enormous, often urgent and vastly underfunded.

The cliff’s edge

Global solidarity broke down in 2025, accelerated by the rise of geopolitical concerns and national self-interest. There is no reason to believe that last year’s record-breaking cuts are temporary. Rather, they are part of a longer-term trend. Last year’s 23% decrease in aid spending followed a 7% drop in 2024. The OECD expects aid to fall by a further 7% by 2028 – and that is a conservative estimate. Canada will be cutting its ODA by more than that.

The funding shock has thrown the development sector into a crisis. Over the very long term, aid should in fact be reduced and eventually eliminated, as sustainable development decreases the need for external financing. Some countries could also do more to mobilize domestic resources, but many don’t have anything near the required funds.

For this vision to succeed, however, we also need to restructure the international system in ways that level the playing field for countries in the Global South. That mean rewriting trading rules, ending illicit financial flows and undertaking a wide range of other structural reforms, none of which currently receives much political attention. Until such changes occur, the abrupt slashing of foreign aid will only multiply human misery and push many countries closer to the precipice.

Stephen Brown is Professor of Political Science at the University of Ottawa. Image by Robert Owen-Wahl from Pixabay.

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Canada’s foreign policy is entering a very uncertain strategic terrain.

For decades, Canadian diplomacy operated within a relatively stable geopolitical architecture: a liberal international order anchored by the United States and reinforced through institutions such as NATO, the United Nations, and the Bretton Woods system. Within that framework, Canada cultivated a reputation as a constructive middle power, supporting multilateral cooperation, peacekeeping, development assistance and rules-based governance.

That world is fading.

The current moment is better understood through Antonio Gramsci’s concept of an interregnum: a period in which the old order is dying while a new one struggles to be born. The United States remains the world’s most powerful state, but its willingness and capacity to sustain the international system it once championed have clearly diminished. At the same time, rival powers such as China and Russia challenge elements of that order, while emerging powers across the Global South question Western dominance within global institutions. As India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi noted at the 2025 BRICS Summit, two thirds of humanity from the Global South remain underrepresented in twentieth-century global institutions, calling for urgent reforms to the UN Security Council, the World Trade Organization and multilateral development banks.

For Canada, the implications are profound. Many of the assumptions that shaped Canadian foreign policy since the end of the Second World War can no longer be taken for granted. Chief among them is the assumption that the United States will consistently serve as a stabilizing force within the international order, an assumption that was always more aspiration than certainty.

Prime Minister Mark Carney’s Davos speech in January 2026 calling for a foreign policy grounded in value-based realism, a term borrowed from Finnish President Alexander Stubb, signals that Canada’s leadership recognizes the need to adapt to a rapidly shifting geopolitical environment. But navigating the interregnum requires more than recalibrating the balance between values and realism. It requires a deeper reassessment of the role Canada seeks to play in a world where the foundations of global order are under strain.

The Limits of Comfortable Multilateralism

Canada’s diplomatic identity has long been built around multilateralism. From Lester B. Pearson’s role in creating UN peacekeeping to Canada’s leadership in the Ottawa Treaty banning anti-personnel landmines and its advocacy for the Responsibility to Protect doctrine, Canada has often presented itself as a principled middle power committed to cooperative global governance.

Yet the effectiveness of this approach depended heavily on a functioning liberal international order underwritten by US leadership.

Even at its height, however, the so-called rules-based order was never as universal or impartial as it was often portrayed. As Prime Minister Carney acknowledged at Davos, many countries understood that the system contained contradictions: the strongest states often exempted themselves from rules when convenient, trade regimes were enforced asymmetrically, and international law was applied with varying degrees of rigour depending on the identity of the accused or the victim.

For many states in the Global South, these inconsistencies were not new discoveries but longstanding realities. The legitimacy of the liberal order therefore rested as much on its practical benefits as on its normative claims.

Today, that system is fraying. The paralysis of the UN Security Council, the weakening of arms control regimes, the resurgence of geopolitical bloc politics, and growing skepticism toward global institutions all signal that the old framework is no longer operating as it once did.

At the same time, the United States itself has become a less predictable partner. Protectionist trade policies, shifting security commitments and the politicization of alliances have forced Canada to hedge against uncertainty from its closest ally.

In such an environment, Canada cannot simply rely on inherited diplomatic habits. It must think more carefully about how to exercise influence when the global system itself is in flux. 

Rediscovering Strategic Middle-Power Leadership

One path forward lies in revitalizing the concept of middle-power diplomacy but adapting it to the realities of the interregnum.

Rather than assuming the stability of the rules-based order, Canada should focus on helping stabilize and renew key elements of global governance alongside a wider group of partners.

This requires three shifts in approach.

First, Canada must build coalitions beyond traditional alliances.

Canada’s closest partnerships, within NATO, the G7 and the Five Eyes intelligence community, still matter. But the geopolitical terrain now demands broader coalition-building that includes emerging and regional powers.

Countries such as Brazil, India, Indonesia, South Africa and Nigeria carry growing weight in shaping global norms and institutions. Many of these states do not neatly align with Western geopolitical agendas, yet they are indispensable partners for addressing global challenges from climate change to global health and peacebuilding. The expansion of BRICS to include countries such as Indonesia, Egypt, and Ethiopia underscores the growing institutional weight of these coalitions.

Canada should therefore invest more deeply in issue-based coalitions that bring together diverse states around shared interests rather than rigid geopolitical alignments.

Second, Canada must rebuild its engagement with the Global South.

Canada’s foreign policy credibility historically rested in part on its reputation as a bridge between North and South. In recent years, however, reductions in development assistance and a growing emphasis on commercial diplomacy have weakened that role. The 2025 federal budget’s $2.7 billion cut to international development assistance over four years, despite the Prime Minister’s pre-election pledge not to reduce foreign aid, has further eroded Canada’s standing.

If Canada wishes to remain influential in global governance, it must rebuild trust with partners across Africa, the Caribbean, Latin America and Southeast Asia. Development cooperation, climate finance and institutional partnerships remain vital tools of diplomacy. They are not simply acts of generosity but investments in a stable international system.

Conversations with policymakers and scholars in the Caribbean, for example, reveal deep concern among small states about being caught in the crossfire of intensifying great-power competition. As one recent analysis noted, CARICOM countries face the challenge of navigating a world where external pressure is intensifying, and small states must develop collective strategies for survival. Canada has an opportunity to work with such states to strengthen regional solidarity and reinforce multilateral cooperation in a volatile geopolitical environment.

Third, Canada must defend democratic norms and human rights with greater care.

Canada has long framed its foreign policy around the promotion of democracy and human rights. These commitments remain important. But in a period of geopolitical fragmentation, defending democratic norms and human rights will require greater emphasis on institution-building rather than rhetorical positioning.

Supporting electoral integrity, strengthening civil society networks and reinforcing independent media across regions where democratic governance is under pressure can help sustain democratic resilience without feeding perceptions that Western states are imposing ideological agendas. As International IDEA has observed, championing democratic values effectively often means focusing on their concrete benefits rather than abstract formulations.

A Moment of Choice

The central challenge for Canadian foreign policy today is not simply balancing values and realism. It is recognizing that the global system itself is being remade.

In an interregnum, uncertainty is inevitable. But periods of systemic transition also create space for middle powers to shape the contours of the emerging order.

Canada’s comparative advantages remain significant: diplomatic credibility, strong institutions, development expertise and a long tradition of multilateral engagement. The question is whether Canada is prepared to deploy these assets with purpose in a far less predictable international environment.

Doing so requires moving beyond nostalgia for a fading liberal order and embracing a more adaptive form of international leadership. As Carney himself argued at Davos, Canada must take on the world as it is, not wait for the world as it wishes it to be.

If Canada succeeds, it can help ensure that the next global order, whenever it emerges, remains rooted in cooperation, justice and shared security.

If it fails, Canada risks becoming merely a policy taker in a world shaped by great-power rivalry.

The interregnum will not last forever. But the choices Canada makes now will help determine whether it helps shape the world that comes next, or simply adapts to it.

W. Andy Knight is a Distinguished Professor of International Relations at the University of Alberta. His research focuses on global governance, multilateral diplomacy and the evolving role of middle powers in the international system. Image generated by AI.

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It is hard to remember what the world was like before Donald Trump returned to centre stage in U.S. politics and launched a new round of international chaos. But even before that, the global mood was already bleak.

In 2024, authoritarian governments were gaining ground in many regions. Right-wing populism was spreading. Attacks on women, migrants, LGBTQ+ people, Indigenous communities, and racialized groups were becoming more brazen, with hatred that had once been hidden now emboldened, openly legitimized and increasingly aggressive.

At the same time, wars were multiplying, climate disasters were intensifying, and inequality was deepening.

For organizations working in international cooperation and solidarity, the sense of urgency was clear. The old ways of doing things were no longer enough.

That is the context in which AQOCI – the Association québécoise des organismes de coopération internationale – decided to launch an ambitious, year-long collective process called the États généraux québécois de la solidarité internationale (Quebec International Solidarity Extensive Consultation).

The goal was simple but far-reaching: to step back and ask two big questions. What is preventing us from living in a fair and just world? And what can we do, together, to change that?

What followed was one of the largest collective reflection processes ever carried out in Quebec’s international solidarity sector.

Over twelve months, more than 1,000 people took part. They came from Quebec NGOs, social movements, unions, and community groups, as well as from across Canada and from Africa, Latin America, the Caribbean, and Asia. Many were people who experience the impacts of global injustice every day, not just people who study or fund international cooperation.

Between 2024 and 2025, AQOCI and its partners organized 28 participatory thematic dialogues – public forums, workshops, online consultations, and regional gatherings. Topics ranged from women’s rights and migration to climate change, food sovereignty, militarization, workers’ rights, and corporate power. Participants talked about shrinking civic space, racism, and colonial legacies.

What made the process different was not just its scale, but its spirit. It was not about producing another technical report or polished strategy. It was about listening and making room for disagreement. It was about recognizing that no single organization, or even one sector, can face today’s crises alone.

All of this led to a major gathering in Montreal in June 2025, the Forum of the Quebec International Solidarity Extensive Consultation. For three days, 400 people from across Quebec and around the world came together – long-time activists, international partners, youth leaders, NGO staff, and grassroots organizers. Together, they adopted a Declaration that sets out 28 shared commitments for Quebec civil society.

At its core, the Declaration can be summed up in three words: Connect. Advocate. Mobilize.

To connect means breaking out of silos and working across movements. Participants agreed that international solidarity groups cannot work only among themselves. They need deeper ties with diaspora communities, migrant-led organizations, Indigenous movements, labour unions, feminist groups, and climate justice networks. Global struggles are linked to local ones. The fight for decent work in Quebec connects to exploitation in global supply chains. Migrant rights here are tied to displacement and conflict elsewhere.

To advocate means being bolder and more political. The Declaration identifies areas where collective pressure is urgently needed: countering extractivism by Canadian mining, oil, and agribusiness corporations; demanding accountability for transnational companies; advancing climate justice, gender equality, and the right to food; defending Palestine and standing with Indigenous struggles; resisting militarization, arms exports, anti-immigration rhetoric, and the far right’s assault on human rights; and fighting disinformation.

To mobilize means moving from words to action. Alongside long-term goals, the Declaration includes short-term priorities and concrete steps – and some are already taking shape.

In October 2025, 16,000 people marched through Quebec City during the World March of Women to affirm feminist values that place dignity, solidarity, and respect for all living beings at the heart of collective decision-making. Activists have continued to mobilize around Palestine, taking to the streets to oppose the genocide and campaigning against the complicity of the Caisse de dépôt et placement du Québec, which invests in companies supplying equipment used to destroy Palestinian homes and infrastructure, and calling for the closure of Quebec’s office in Israel. New networks are challenging militarization in Canada and organizing to counter the rise of far-right movements, while dialogue between migrant groups, diaspora organizations, and international NGOs is reshaping how people work together.

Yet all this is happening as the ground shifts beneath international solidarity.

Since the États généraux began, the international aid landscape has been shaken. The United States has dismantled key parts of USAID. The United Kingdom, France, and Germany have cut aid budgets. Canada has reduced international assistance, and Quebec has abruptly withdrawn fundng from several international solidarity organizations, while sharply cutting support for work in Haiti.

In other words, solidarity is needed most urgently at the very moment government support is collapsing.

Yet the États généraux showed something vital. Even in hard times, people are willing to come together. They are ready to rethink old models. They are ready to act.

In 2024, the global solidarity infrastructure was already fracturing. Since then, attacks on democratic institutions, human rights, and planetary survival have intensified. But the process in Quebec made one thing clear: civil society is not standing still. Across borders and movements, people are organizing for justice, dignity, and a livable future.

That work is not optional. It is the work of our time.

Nancy Burrows is a Program Officer for Global Citizenship Education at AQOCI. Denis Côté is the Policy Analyst at AQOCI. Image: Participants signing the Declaration of Commitment on the last day of the forum (photo credit: Laure Carpentier).

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The international development sector is confronting a level of disruption unlike anything it has ever known. The new context is forcing Canadian humanitarian and development organizations (INGOs) to revisit the structures and business models that carried them through decades. It is a time for courage and creativity. 

Major global aid reductions, from the US, the UK, several European donors, and now Canada, have sent tremors through organizations that long assumed stability. Funding streams once seen as dependable no longer are, and partners in the Global South are facing multiplying program delays and cancellations. The speed and scale of global aid cuts have made clear that this is a structural turning point, one that demands reconsideration of how INGOs organize, operate, and sustain impact. The question is not whether change is coming, but whether organizations will adapt their models with intention or let themselves be overtaken by a rapidly shifting landscape.

Shrinking budgets only add pressures to dynamics that have been building for years. Partners, activists, and thinkers across the Global South have long called for more equitable forms of collaboration and for dismantling the colonial assumptions embedded in many Northern institutions. While these calls have grown louder, many INGOs have struggled to shift from acknowledging the need to localize and decolonize aid to implementing meaningful structural change in that direction.

For most organizations, the prospect of transformation is daunting. Leaders must first fully realize the need for change, then build a vision for that change and finally figure out how to implement it effectively. And they must do this while rallying a wide range of stakeholders, from communities to employees, boards and donors. For non-profits, change can be even harder where they equate restructuring with mission failure and because boards are notoriously risk-averse. Even the language of business-model innovation can feel out of place in a values-driven sector; with terms like “merger”, “integration”, “shared services”, “divestment” seeming better suited to the private sector. These cultural and structural barriers are real. But they cannot be the reason organizations remain tethered to models that no longer serve their mission.

The current moment demands that INGO leaders summon the courage to question longstanding assumptions, confront uncomfortable truths, and imagine alternative futures. That may mean recognizing that certain operational legacies – like country offices or brands best known in Northern fundraising markets – no longer advance impact as much as they once did. It may require exploring mergers or strategic partnerships that reduce duplication and increase resilience. It may mean downsizing or setting a path to sunsetting organizations. It should involve shifting resources and authority to Global South partners in ways that go beyond rhetoric. And it will almost certainly require developing new competencies, new delivery models, and new forms of accountability that align with a rapidly evolving global development landscape.

Importantly, business-model innovation in this context is not about institutional survival for its own sake. It is about safeguarding impact in a world where the foundations are shifting. INGOs that adapt proactively can strengthen resilience by diversifying revenue sources, modernizing their operations, and aligning more closely with locally led and equity-based approaches. They can reduce operational costs that no longer match strategic priorities, for example by ending programs that are not clearly aligned with their mission, moving positions closer to programming areas, or letting go of physical office spaces. And they can position themselves as genuine partners in globally distributed networks rather than distant intermediaries.

Canadian INGOs remain vital contributors in a world grappling with conflict, climate crisis, inequality, and democratic erosion. But relevance is not guaranteed by history or good intentions. It must be actively renewed through structures and strategies suited to the realities of tomorrow. The turbulence the sector is experiencing is painful, with real costs in communities both North and South, but it is also an opportunity: a moment to reshape, streamline, collaborate, and realign with the values and demands of a new era.

The future of Canada’s role in global cooperation will be shaped by the decisions INGOs make now. This is not a time for caution or nostalgia. It is a time for principled, intentional, and courageous transformation. The organizations willing to reimagine themselves for the next decade will be the ones that continue to deliver meaningful impact long after the current disruptions have passed.

Nicolas Moyer is CEO at Cuso International. He has founded and led many large-scale, inter-agency initiatives, including the Humanitarian Coalition and Cooperation Canada. Image: Venkatnathaniel, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

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Prime Minister Mark Carney delivered the death blow to Canada’s feminist foreign policy while attending the G20 summit in South Africa a couple of days ago. At a press conference in Johannesburg, in response to a question, he stated, “I wouldn’t describe our foreign policy as feminist foreign policy”.

In one short sentence, Carney ended an eight-year initiative that had attracted much domestic and international support. His predecessor, Justin Trudeau, and numerous Liberal cabinet ministers had frequently touted the feminist foreign policy as proof that Canada was a progressive thought leader.

What was the feminist foreign policy?

Its most concrete manifestation was the 2017 Feminist International Assistance Policy, which focused Canadian foreign aid on supporting women’s empowerment and gender equality. For other aspects of foreign policy, it was never clear how much of it ever really was feminist. For a while, the Liberals used “feminist” to describe a wide range of policies, even if their feminist content was very limited.

For instance, Canada’s feminist trade policy consisted of little more than adding optional chapters on gender equality to a few free-trade agreements, conducting gender-based analysis of deals and providing some support to women-led businesses. Want to recruit more women in the Canadian armed forces? Voilà, you have a feminist defence policy.

To be fair, the Trudeau government did put in place a number of feminist initiatives, such as appointing more women to high-level positions, from cabinet posts to ambassadorships, and the aid program’s funding of women’s and LGBTQI+ groups abroad. But lacking was a deeper commitment to or articulation of substantive feminism that went beyond representation.

More of a brand than a policy

Feminism should be transformative, not just adding women to existing structures and stirring. Feminism requires actual change to those structures, doing things differently. And that is where the Trudeau government failed.

The feminist substance of Canada’s foreign policy – as opposed to symbolic statements and actions – was never easy to see. How could one square Canada’s feminist foreign policy with the selling of arms to Saudi Arabia, to be used against civilians? Even more starkly, what kind of feminist policy allows for the sale of deadly weapons to a state committing genocide?

In short, it is not clear that Canada ever had a feminist foreign policy. Despite promising in 2020 to publish a feminist foreign policy document and engaging in extensive consultations on what it should contain, the government never released any such document. As a result, the Trudeau government could call anything with female content “feminist” and ignore the label – and the underlying principles – the rest of the time. It was more of a brand than a policy.

The writing on the wall

Even towards the end of Trudeau’s time in power, the Liberals had been moving away from the feminist brand. By 2023, if not earlier, they rarely mentioned the term in public. Maybe they lost interest. Maybe they considered it an electoral liability in the face of the rise of popular support for the Conservatives under Pierre Poilièvre.

The writing was clearly on the wall when Carney replaced Trudeau as Liberal leader in 2025. His election manifesto made no mention of feminism. His cabinets have not been gender balanced. His first budget places great emphasis on defence spending, while cutting foreign aid. The status of Canada’s feminist foreign policy had been uncertain for months, if not years. It had become a zombie policy, raised from the dead in international declarations and then laid back to rest.

Nothing to mourn?

No one should be too surprised that Carney finally said the quiet part out loud: Canada has given up on having a feminist foreign policy. But, given how little the policy actually entailed in concrete terms, other than in foreign aid, is there anything to mourn?

Yes, there is. The retreat from values is a major setback for Canadian foreign policy. Women’s rights, and human rights more broadly, remain key challenges all over the world. Indeed, there are many signs that they are escalating. While Canada has not completely abandoned its contributions in those areas under the Carney government, its massive shift to hard security and economic self-interest exacts a heavy price.

Canada’s long-term security, broadly defined, depends on global wellbeing, and foreign policy can play a crucial role in achieving that. It is a terrible time, for example, to cut $2.7 billion in foreign aid, as announced a few weeks ago in the federal budget. The reduction in support for global health, and sexual and reproductive health and rights in particular, will be especially harmful for women and girls in the Global South. The Canadian government followed up by announcing cuts to multilateral efforts to fight infectious diseases in poor countries. Many observers fear the Carney government will soon abandon the Feminist International Assistance Policy.

Faced with the United States’ retreat from the global stage and Canada’s urgent need to forge strong international ties, Canada should be stepping up, not stepping down. Even if Canada’s feminist foreign policy was largely superficial, the lack of one is worse.

Stephen Brown is Professor of Political Science at the University of Ottawa. Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash.

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In the past months, Protesters from the Gen Z generation are rising (and winning) in Nepal, Madagascar, Morocco, the Philippines, Peru and Indonesia. Before that, they were also involved in other uprisings, including the one that led to the resignation of Sheikh Hasina in Bangladesh in 2024. Demonstrators, typically born between 1997 and 2012, are organizing horizontally via social media to demand greater redistribution in the face of economic hardships. Their mobilizations are driven by their generational culture. In Nepal and Madagascar, they managed to oust their respective presidents.

At the beginning of September in Nepal, young adults organized public protests to denounce labour shortages, lack of economic opportunities, and corruption, among other things. Because the movement was fuelled by online organizing, the Nepalese government angered the protesters when it banned most major social media in the country (Facebook, WhatsApp, Instagram and YouTube), under the guise of addressing misinformation on those platforms. Pop culture symbols of defiance and solidarity are commonly used, like the Luffy character from the manga One Piece or the three-finger salute from The Hunger Games. While law enforcement had killed at least 19 people and injured 145 since the beginning of the protests, Gen Z Nepal managed to oust the government in three days.

As an offshoot of the uprising in Nepal, the self-proclaimed “pacifist” Gen Z Madagascar movement began on September 25 as a protest against frequent electricity and water shortages, and the poor socio-economic conditions of the younger generations. Since then, the leader of the opposition joined the protesters, the military seized power, and Malagasy president Andry Rajoelina fled the country on a French military plane for an undisclosed location. His departure was triggered by the president’s loss of military support, including from the elite unit CAPSAT on October 11, which was instrumental in the 2009 coup d’état that brought him to power.

Gen Z Madagascar also succeeded in ousting the Senate president and former military officer Richard Ravalomanana. At least 22 people were killed since the beginning of the protests and over 100 were injured, according to the United Nations. Young people represent two thirds of the Malagasy population, and at least 80% of Madagascar’s 32 million inhabitants live on less than 15,000 ariary per day (Cdn$4.50), the World Bank’s poverty line.

A similar movement of young Moroccans, which grew from 1,000 to approximately 120,000 members, took to the streets at the end of September to denounce rising inequalities, corruption, and the poor state of schools and hospitals in the country. The protests were met with police repression, with dozens of arrests and two young people killed by the police. The Moroccan Association for Human Rights has condemned the violence against Gen Z protesters marching peacefully.

Mainly organized on the online gaming platform Discord, the founders of the Gen Z 212 movement (named after Morocco’s international dialling code) remain anonymous. . According to political scientists Aziz Chahir and Mohamed Masbah, this anonymity can be an asset because it complicates the authorities’ task of identifying potential targets of repression. Much as in Nepal, shared grievances of the Gen Z 212 movement contribute to its collective identity.

Push for dignity

The main demands of these digitally driven, spontaneous, and decentralized movements concern human dignity. Compared to many other revolutionary movements in those countries and elsewhere, these Gen Z protesters don’t seek formal institutional power, but rather basic standards of living, greater redistribution of wealth, and functioning educational and health systems. The absence of centralized leadership allows young protesters to gain allies both internally and externally, while fuelling this transnational discourse of social struggles for dignity rather than power-seeking.

Their political demands come at a time of rising inequality internationally and within their countries. In Morocco, for example, the top 10% holds 32% of the national income, approximately 12 times the share of the lowest 10%. Much of the anger among youth stemmed from the discrepancy between the lack of basic infrastructure and the Moroccan government’s spending millions of dollars to host the Africa Cup of Nations and the World Cup in 2030. In Madagascar, the costly Antananarivo cable car, a government flagship project, became a symbol of inequality and is considered disconnected from the needs of the population.

The Gen Z movements around the world are seeking better access to healthcare, education, and job opportunities. They quickly became representative of a push towards more democracy. However, the transformative potential of these movements is yet to be seen. History tells us that such social movements are usually more effective in mobilizing people against something or someone (e.g., colonial rule, an unpopular regime, plastics pollution) and less effective at mobilizing for viable alternatives.

In addition, the slogans around dignity are not new. This demand was already at the heart of the anti-colonial struggles in Africa in the 1960s, led by the grandparents of today’s protesters. However, if Gen Z is rising for greater dignity, will their society (and the world) hear them?

Maria Dakli is a PhD student in the School of International Development and Global Studies at the University of Ottawa. Maïka Sondarjee is an associate professor in the School of International Development and Global Studies at the University of Ottawa. Image: Vazhnik.

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Does the world need less Canada? One might think so, reading last week’s federal budget. The cuts to foreign aid and how they are justified suggest that Canada is no longer interested in providing a leadership role in international development.

Confusing numbers

The budget document states that Canada will cut $2.7 billion from international development assistance over the next four years. But what that means is not clear. It seems to indicate an average of $675 million per year less than currently planned in each of the four years. That would represent a cut of about 5% or 6%, which is less than some figures that had been circulating before the budget was released.

However, that statement could also be interpreted as progressive cuts that will lead to $2.7 billion less in the fourth year, 2029-2030, which would be a much more radical reduction in the aid budget. Are the annual figures in a table, listed as “Recalibrating Government Programs” at Global Affairs Canada, meant to be the same thing as aid cuts? Hard to tell. Those numbers add up to $2.8 billion. It is all very confusing. Is the lack of clarity and transparency deliberate or sloppiness? I am not sure which would be worse.

Whatever the actual figures mean in practice, Prime Minister Mark Carney is breaking his pre-electoral promise that “My government will not cut foreign aid”.

Back to regularly scheduled programming?

The budget document frames the cuts as “returning international development assistance to a pre-pandemic level”. We are thus to understand that the increases in spending over the past five years were due to COVID-19 and constituted a temporary blip. By implication, the current cuts are not really cuts, but rather a return to “regular” levels.

But that is misleading. The significant increase in Canadian aid spending in 2022 – the year in which Canadian development assistance ballooned – went mainly towards massive assistance to Ukraine, more spending on hosting refugees in Canada and larger contributions to international organizations. So it had little to do with COVID-19. Invoking the “pre-pandemic” level is a game of smoke and mirrors.

The impact of the cuts

Where will Canada’s cuts hit the hardest? Global health will bear the brunt of them because that is where, the document argues, “Canada’s contribution has grown disproportionately relative to other similar economies”. Having spent over 15 years building Canada’s expertise and leadership in this sector, the Canadian government’s new goal is apparently going back to being average.

The cuts will also target some unnamed international financial institutions, which “receive significant support through other sources”. The document also states, “Some bilateral development programs will also be refined and adjusted”, i.e., cut. It doesn’t specify which ones. Reassuringly, it says that Canada will focus “support for countries that need it the most”. But how does that align with the vast majority of the budget document that suggests that Canada will privilege its trade relationships? The former suggests a focus on Africa, but the latter on Latin America and Asia.

The budget distastefully describes the cuts as “savings”. But as Doctors Without Borders pointed out, “aid cuts are not savings – they are choices with real human consequences”. They involve withdrawing assistance, not improving bureaucratic efficiency and reducing overheads. For instance, this year’s slashing of US development assistance has already led to over 600,000 deaths and 7 million extra cases of malaria, among other consequences. Canadian “savings” in foreign aid will also have a negative real-world impact.

The abdication of leadership

The need for international assistance has not decreased with the end of the COVID “emergency”. The impact of the climate crisis is only worsening and the radical cutting of aid budgets by major donors such as the UK, France, Germany, and above all the US, mean that Canadian assistance is needed more than ever. It also creates an opportunity for Canada to distinguish itself from other Western donors.

On the campaign trail earlier this year, Carney said that “Our vision is that this is a time for Canada to lead”. But now in power, the Carney government has retreated from that vision. Instead, it wants to focus on building “Canada Strong”, which is the title of the budget document.

Canada needs the world

Strengthening Canada’s position at home and providing leadership abroad, however, are not in opposition. The two can go hand in hand. Canada needs the world far more than the world needs Canada. At a time when Canada is trying to diversify its trade relations and could use all the friends it can get, including in the Global South, it would make more sense to increase its aid spending.

Stephen Brown is Professor of Political Science at the University of Ottawa. Image: Freepik.

The post The world needs less Canada? first appeared on The McLeod Group.

This book captures the very essence and soul of Canada World Youth (CWY). Author Mark Dickinson, himself a former participant, writes about how youth education, critical thinking and a global vision of development made up the experience of Canada World Youth and achieved something transformational. For many, CWY was “one of the central defining events of their lives” (p. 115). Countless CWY alumni moved into the former Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) and made a whole career out of international development starting with CWY.

The book looks at CWY from top to bottom – the vision and thinking behind its creation by Jacques Hébert in 1971, its evolution as an organization and relationship with CIDA, its grassroots experiences and its demise in 2022. How did this flagship informal youth education program based on a spirit of community service, life skills, group dynamics and responsibility come to be, and ultimately not to be?

“It was like this magical organization”, the book quotes former CWY CEO Matthew Pearce on his discovery of CWY in the early ’80s. Pearce continues:

The idea of having young people from around the world come together in rural settings, living with families and working alongside people from their host communities was simultaneously so grounded and sensible, and, at the same time, totally unavailable outside of CWY. You’ll never experience anything like this again because it doesn’t exist. (p. 292)

In that sense, CWY was “radically different” (p. 9) from other volunteer-sending organizations, according to the author, as it was designed as a reciprocal exchange between Canadian youth and those from countries where Canada had development cooperation programs. It introduced participants to ideas about development early on: the realities of inequality, of poverty and differences, of intercultural understanding, including within Canada, all as a way of creating global citizens.

It also challenged Canadians to learn from and understand their own differences – along with those they encountered in people from exchange countries. This element seems even more crucial today, given the changing and fragmented international landscape affecting Canadian identity and cohesion. CWY grew against the backdrop of the dynamics at the time of Quebec within Canada, the Révolution tranquille, the creation of the Parti Québécois and the rise of Quebec nationalism.

Early on, the longstanding friendship between Hébert and Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau was key to getting government financing through CIDA. But this led to CWY’s long-term financial dependency on CIDA. By 2005, according to the book, “the fuse was finally lit…  dependency on CIDA’s partnership branch – Canada World Youth’s most significant existential threat – had reached a historic low” (p. 294, italics in original).

There were long debates inside CIDA about whether CWY was really promoting development and therefore eligible for financing. CIDA funding requirements, including reducing CWY administrative footprint and the need to show development results, likely catalyzed change in the organization. The book narrates CWY’s internal governance twists and turns that played out over the decades of its existence, causing several critical upheavals. It describes the many petitions by thousands of alumni to save the organization in the lead-up to its closure in 2022.

At its official inauguration in 1974 at Maison Jeunesse Canada Monde, formerly the Labyrinth pavilion at Expo 67 in Montreal, CIDA’s then President, Paul Gérin-Lajoie, addressed the crowd:

Development is above all the crossroad of mankind’s needs and hopes, the new and growing capacity of individuals and communities to achieve together, in spite of their differences, a better quality of life and greater happiness… which cannot be assessed in terms of quantitative returns or on the basis of a cost-benefit analysis without distorting its real meaning. (p. 69)

Part 2 of the book covers the shift from the cultural exchanges within local communities to development education. From the outset of programming in 1975, the senior coordinators of the CWY Philippines program, including Diana Rivington (who later joined CIDA), insisted on “a protocol that cemented the focus on development including a continuous process of group study, real community involvement, intercultural learning and to prepare participants to take up active roles in the larger global community” (p. 84)

Dickinson interviewed many former CWY participants, leaders and staff in researching this book, mainly Canadians. Hébert’s own book on CWY adds to the thousands of testimonials on how these individuals’ lives had changed in ways that were frequently called magical and transformational, although also often challenging and turbulent. Reunions are celebrated among alumni even 30-50 years later. Dickinson refers to a First Nations team leader, Lorna Willliams, who used the Lil’wat term Kamuxw Kalha – achieving togetherness in community – to describe CWY.

Was CWY ahead of its time, as Canada often was in the golden years of development? The world’s current focus on youth’s role in global prosperity perhaps answers the question. CWY believed it had a crucial role to play in global affairs. In the words of the author, “Canada World Youth should be remembered as a spectacular humanitarian success. It counts among this country’s most significant contributions to global peace in the post-war era” (preface).

The Cascade Institute recently proposed a Youth Development Program within the context of a framework for defending Canada’s democracy and developing a national feeling of common interest. The proposal cites Katimavik, CWY’s Canadian equivalent (or sister organization), also founded by Jacques Hébert out of CWY’s experience, as “a program whose objectives and format could be built into a more integrated national youth development program”. They believe that “every Canadian should have a comparable opportunity as part of a national youth development scheme”.

In CWY, Jacques Hébert wanted to see youth come together across borders as part of their development, fostering pluralism as a contribution to world peace. Did CWY become irrelevant as the world and Canada moved on? Mark Dickinson’s book with its analysis of CWY and its ups and downs may provide the ultimate answer, that the example of Canada World Youth is still relevant today.

Rhonda Gossen is a former official at the Canadian International Development Agency and Global Affairs Canada, a past CWY participant, a consultant to UNDP and author of The Twelfth of February: Canadian aid for Gender Equality during the Rise of Violent Extremism in Pakistan. Image: Taken from the book cover.

The post “A School for Tomorrow: The Story of Canada World Youth” by Mark Dickinson first appeared on The McLeod Group.

A War of Atrocities. Sadly, this title of the latest report by the UN Independent International Fact-Finding Mission for the Sudan is only too apt. The details are new, but not the grim information. It provides additional evidence, sometimes in stark and horrific detail, of the consequences of the ongoing two-and-a-half-year battle between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Active conflict is a daily reality across the country. Sudan is now effectively separated into SAF- and RSF-controlled areas. Life under the former is difficult; life under the latter is impossible. Most recently, the RSF has been advancing on the city of el-Fasher in North Darfur, leaving displacement, hunger, and death for hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians in its wake.

Since the beginning of the war, almost 12 million people have been forcibly displaced, with some one third leaving Sudan altogether. The country is experiencing famine, including deaths due to starvation. Critical infrastructure such as medical facilities, educational institutions, generating stations, water reservoirs and communications towers have been destroyed. More than three quarters of Sudan’s children are out of school.

The RSF is committing sexual violence on a systematic scale. Genocide perpetrated by the RSF has been confirmed by a number of sources, including the US State Department under the Biden administration. Observers who do not use the term genocide nonetheless emphasize the fact that violence is often ethnically targeted. Such violence is deployed particularly, but not exclusively, by the RSF – killings, sexual violence, assault, kidnapping and slavery. Meanwhile, the silence from the international community and the media is deafening. This is the largest humanitarian crisis in the world.

The economic motives underlying this war cannot be overstated, particularly in the form of agricultural land grabs or the theft of Sudan’s rich mineral resources. Given the vast destruction of basic infrastructure in Sudan, it may defy credulity that the warring parties haven’t run out of money. But both the RSF and the SAF have stable and lucrative sources of funds, especially in the mining of gold, and to a lesser extent, other minerals (e.g., chromite, iron ore, copper and precious stones). The RSF’s estimated revenue from gold mining approached US$1 billion in 2024. Both sides generate income through gold export and sales, as well as taxation, royalties and security guarantees for mining operations and bullion transport.

Peace negotiations to date have failed spectacularly for a number of reasons, including the many vested economic and political interests of countries who have sponsored negotiations. Egypt, a SAF-supporter, is a modest beneficiary of Sudan’s gold mining, but virtually all of the RSF-mined gold ends up in the United Arab Emirates (UAE), which has a reputation as a global hub for gold. In turn, there is strong evidence that the UAE provides the RSF with weapons, including sophisticated drones that are critical to their war effort. In contravention of a UN Security Council arms embargo on Darfur, weapons and military equipment have been found originating from the UAE, Russia, China, Türkiye, Serbia, Yemen and Eritrea, attesting to the RSF’s weapons procurement and financing capacity. Many of the companies involved in mining in SAF territory are partially or wholly owned by the Sudanese military or government. Human rights advocates have recommended that the Security Council arms embargo for Darfur be not only more strictly enforced but expanded to cover the whole country.

The conflict in Sudan is a proxy war in which the RSF’s political power is derived in large part through support from the UAE. The RSF has ambitions to become a parallel government. But SAF also lacks credibility as it is the same entity (ruled by the same leader) that crushed Sudan’s most recent experiment with democracy in the 2021 coup. Along with Egypt, Iran and Saudi Arabia are also SAF allies. The region’s complicated geopolitics involves actors such as Russia, which has its sights set on a strategic naval base in Sudan on the Red Sea. Europe seems mostly concerned with preventing Sudanese refugees from arriving at its borders. The Trump administration’s efforts at peace have been wholly ineffective, while the demise of USAID has had devastating effects.

Canada will provide $75 million in humanitarian assistance for Sudan in 2025. It has announced targeted sanctions to complement those already in place. For its part, the Carney government has issued the occasional statement, sometimes in collaboration with other governments, denouncing the harm caused by armed actors and reminding them to uphold international humanitarian law (as articulated in pertinent UN Security Council resolutions). The family-based permanent residence pathway is slated to allow approximately 10,000 people from Sudan to come to Canada. But that program requires applicants to clear numerous hurdles and in any case is currently closed to new applications.

The situation is complex but not intractable. Canada has an opportunity to demonstrate considerable leadership – through humanitarian commitments, diplomatic efforts, economic sanctions and immigration-related measures. But the situation demands a high-level political advocate with dedicated expertise and experience, a hub for collaboration and action. As a first step to scaling up Canada’s action, the Carney government should appoint a Special Envoy to Sudan.

This idea is not unprecedented. Chrystia Freeland has just been named Special Representative for the Reconstruction of Ukraine. Bob Rae was Canada’s Special Envoy to Myanmar from 2017 to 2020, successfully and strategically influencing Canada’s engagement on Myanmar. Jacqui O’Neill helped promote Canada’s thematic engagement as Ambassador for Women, Peace and Security.

An envoy would be able to inform the political agenda of Cabinet members, support Canada’s peacebuilding efforts, keep Sudan in the media, engage with civil society and diaspora groups, hear from Sudanese on the ground, especially women, review the effectiveness of sanctions, influence international counterparts and make informed recommendations for further government action. An envoy’s mandate should include addressing corporate involvement or conflict financing that is perpetuating the war.

None of Canada’s current actions are enough to meet the moment. Canada needs a Special Envoy to Sudan as a catalyst to scale up our engagement in this horrific conflict. There have been instances when, with limited but strategic resourcing, advocacy and action, Canada has led the way on important international issues. It is time we rose to that challenge once more. It’s not just the future of Sudan at stake; it’s our own humanity.

Rita Morbia works for Inter Pares, a Canadian social justice organization that continues to support gender equality activism in Sudan, as it has for two decades. Photo taken by the author in Khartoum in 2019.

The post Sudan’s “War of Atrocities” and Canada: Action Needed first appeared on The McLeod Group.

On September 18, Prime Minister Mark Carney travelled to Mexico, accompanied by ministers Dominic LeBlanc and Anita Anand. Carney received a warm welcome from Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum, following a similar friendly meeting in June 2025, when Carney invited Sheinbaum as an observer at the G7 meeting in Alberta. Carney’s trip was widely seen as an effort to rebuild Canada-Mexico relations after several incidents weakened those ties over the past year, as well as to prepare for the upcoming review of the Canada-United States-Mexico Agreement (CUSMA).

One irritant in the relationship was Canada’s April 2024 decision to re-establish the requirement for most Mexicans to obtain a temporary resident visa before travelling to Canada. In 2016, Carney’s predecessor, Justin Trudeau, had lifted the visa requirement that had been imposed by the Harper government. The decision to re-impose it followed a rapid rise in asylum claims made by Mexicans, rising from 250 claims in 2016 to 25,236 in 2023. Thus, it was not entirely unexpected, but still a blow to Mexicans.

This setback was followed in August 2024 by the announcement by Mexican president Andrés Manuel López Obrador (AMLO) that his government was “pausing” relations with both the Canadian and US embassies after the two ambassadors openly criticized Mexico’s plans for controversial judicial reforms. AMLO viewed these statements as unacceptable foreign interference in Mexico’s domestic affairs. Canadian Ambassador Graeme Clark stated at the time that Canadian investors were worried about the impact of the reform on their investments in Mexico, and also expressed concern about the elimination of independent agencies. AMLO’s successor, Claudia Sheinbaum, adopted the judicial reforms after she and their party, Morena, won a convincing victory in last July’s elections.

Those disputes were followed by increased tensions after the election of Donald Trump in November 2024. Trump’s aggressive imposition of tariffs on Canada led two panicking premiers, Danielle Smith of Alberta and Doug Ford of Ontario, to state publicly that Canada should pursue a separate free trade deal with the United States, essentially throwing Mexico under the bus. After Trump imposed 25% tariffs on both Canada and Mexico, Ford stated, “I want to emphasize, to compare us to Mexico is the most insulting thing I have ever heard from our friends and closest allies, the United States of America”. He added that the flow of illicit drugs and migrants is exponentially higher across the US’s southern border compared to its northern one, effectively justifying the tariffs on Mexico.

Shortly thereafter, Trudeau seemed to express similar willingness to leave Mexico out of the equation. He stated at the APEC meeting in Peru that, although he would prefer that Mexico stay part of a trilateral deal, “we may have to look at other options” if Mexico failed to address US concerns about Chinese investment in and trade with Mexico.

Those statements heightened Mexicans’ feelings that they were facing hostility from both of their northern neighbours, not just the United States. Many Mexicans were disillusioned since they expected better treatment from Canada.

While extreme, however, Ford’s – and Trudeau’s – comments echoed longstanding tendencies in Canada’s relations with Mexico. When the precursor to CUSMA, the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), was first negotiated, Canada was reluctant to include Mexico, since Canadian leaders believed this would dilute the special access to the US economy, which Canada had achieved in the 1988 bilateral free trade agreement. Canada only agreed to include Mexico when it became clear that the US would otherwise go ahead with a bilateral deal with Mexico.

The weakness of the Canada-Mexico relationship and the overwhelming power of the US meant that in practice NAFTA (and CUSMA) largely took the form of two US bilateral relationships. After the 9/11 attacks, some conservative commentators like Wendy Dobson and Tom D’Aquino argued in favour of a “strategic bargain” between Canada and the US, excluding Mexico. The idea that Canada would be dragged down by its association with Mexico is a stubborn assumption which hasn’t been displaced by the growth of strong cultural, social and economic ties between Canada and Mexico.

However, it is increasingly clear that Canada is not being dragged down by Mexico. In fact, Canada has been a major target of Trump’s ire, even after the departure of the despised Justin Trudeau. Sheinbaum has appeared to be highly successful in winning the respect of the misogynist American president, a testimony to her resolution and dignity. Still, Mexico has paid a heavy cost in terms of commitments Trump has extracted around increased border security and the accommodation of deportees. It is also facing threats of military intervention in the pursuit of cartels which the US has declared terrorist organizations.

In this context, the revived friendship between Canada and Mexico is an important first step toward building a stronger relationship. In conjunction with Carney’s recent visit, the two countries announced a “comprehensive strategic partnership” and signed a new Canada-Mexico Action Plan. They committed to high levels of cooperation on a regular basis, with frequent ministerial-level consultations to increase bilateral trade and investment in infrastructure, energy, agriculture and health.

The Action Plan promises joint action on “sustainable mining development” as well, which Indigenous peoples and environmentalists in both countries may be skeptical about. It also contains new commitments on jointly promoting labour rights protections, health and wellbeing, and sustainability and environmental stewardship, among other lofty goals. In addition, the two leaders pledged to work together closely in preparation for the upcoming review of CUSMA, which must take place by July 2026. Facing Trump’s unpredictable and often irrational demands in this review will not be easy, but the two countries will be stronger working together.

Laura Macdonald is Chancellor’s Professor and Professor of Political Science at Carleton University.

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