What The Hell America!

USAID’s role in global geopolitics during the latter half of the twentieth century can best be understood within the framework of what development studies scholar Wolfgang Sachs, among others, has called the “Age of Development.” This was, as Sundhya Pahuja explained in her pathbreaking work Decolonising International Law, the era in which Western powers, led by the United States, rebranded their imperial ambitions under the banner of economic modernization, technological assistance, and humanitarian intervention. Instead of direct colonial rule, control over the Global South was maintained through debt dependency (via institutions like the International Monetary Fund [IMF] and World Bank), structural adjustment programs, and the establishment of foreign aid as a mechanism to shape governance in recipient nations.

For decades, USAID has been the soft-power arm of US American imperialism, cloaked in the language of humanitarian aid and development. Since its inception in 1961 under President John F. Kennedy, it has played a critical role in advancing US geopolitical interests under the guise of fostering democracy, alleviating poverty, and promoting economic growth in the Global South. While many of its employees certainly had good intentions, USAID, as an institution, was never about benevolence.

But while many commentators are ready to admit that USAID was about securing US interests in foreign countries, they are quick to add that this is done for the greater good, for the values US Americans claim to champion: democracy, freedom, rule of law, and human rights. As Michael Schiffer noted in his recent defense of USAID: “Foreign assistance, though charitable, isn’t charity. It’s a strategic investment that safeguards America’s most important interests while reflecting its highest values.” USAID was a strategic instrument, designed to extend US influence, align foreign governments with American interests, and counter the ideological pull of communism during the Cold War. Underlying these efforts, however, have always been corporate interests, even when it comes to such domains as food aid.

USAID was central to this approach. It tied aid to the adoption of neoliberal policies, privatization, and the opening of markets to US corporations. A striking example is the case of Haiti, where USAID pushed for trade liberalization and other neoliberal policies in the 1980s, leading to the collapse of domestic rice production in favor of cheap, subsidized imports in the 1990s. The result was devastating: Haiti became dependent on foreign aid for basic food security, its agricultural sector gutted to serve US agribusiness interests.

This wasn’t an isolated incident — it was a feature of the foreign aid system. USAID also played a role in financing civil society organizations that aligned with US foreign policy objectives, funding media initiatives to shape political discourse, and supporting structural adjustment programs that systematically dismantled public services in favor of corporate-led development.

Yet despite its far-reaching influence, USAID was only one part of the broader machinery of development imperialism. The IMF, World Bank, and various United Nations agencies reinforced the same order: one where control over economies and governance structures remained tethered to US interests.

The transition from development imperialism to digital imperialism has been underway for years. By the second decade of the twenty-first century, it became clear that the real battleground for global influence was no longer traditional aid and development projects but the digital economy, data governance, and artificial intelligence.

Trump’s decision to gut USAID is often framed as a manifestation of his incompetence — his failure to grasp the importance of US soft power through foreign aid. But what if this move to end USAID’s mission isn’t ignorance but a symptom of the declining relevance of state-led development institutions in a world where corporate power is increasingly exercised through digital platforms and infrastructure?

From its inception, USAID was always a tool of US geopolitical strategy, deeply entwined with the interests of American corporations. Whether through the support of trade liberalization, finance liberalization, or initiatives that prioritized privatization, USAID consistently advanced the expansion of US corporate influence under the veneer of legitimacy provided by “development.” Its projects — from food aid that benefited US agribusiness to financial inclusion initiatives that opened markets to American fintech firms — were as much about shaping global markets as they were about humanitarian aid.

In other words, what if, in an age of digital imperialism, USAID had simply outlived its usefulness as a vehicle for advancing dominant US corporate interests on the global stage?

The tech elite’s anti-government, anti-democracy stance neatly aligns with their corporate interests, as they see no need for traditional state-led development structures when their influence no longer depends on them. In an era where power is increasingly defined by digital infrastructure and platform dominance, USAID is simply losing relevance to the actors shaping US foreign influence.

Unlike in the past, when influence was extended through financial aid and governance initiatives, today’s power brokers control global flows of information, data, and digital infrastructure. Big Tech regularly dictates access to economic participation, political discourse, and security infrastructures, leaving traditional development models promoted by development agencies like USAID somewhat outdated or redundant in the face of algorithmic power concentrated in the hands of a few dominant Silicon Valley firms that control the essential infrastructures of the digital age, from cloud computing to artificial intelligence and global communication networks.

The decision to dismantle it isn’t just about changing strategies; it’s a symptom of shifting domestic and global power structures, of a White House lobbied not by DuPont, John Deere, or Monsanto, but by Silicon Valley.

If the “Age of Development” was characterized by USAID projects, structural adjustment programs, and debt diplomacy, then the “Age of Digitalization” is defined by data extraction, algorithmic governance, and the monopolization of global digital infrastructure by American tech giants. Control over information, surveillance, and digital infrastructures has become one of the mechanisms of maintaining power.

Trump has certainly grasped this in the domestic context. Unlike previous politicians, he recognized early on that we live in a media-driven reality where control over digital platforms translates to control over public discourse. His alliance with Silicon Valley’s tech elites, despite his initial public posturing against them, was not an accident.

American imperialism of the twenty-first century is no longer primarily upheld and reproduced by diplomats and aid workers but also by tech giants. Today the influence of the United States is increasingly exerted through the architectures of the internet, cloud computing, artificial intelligence, and the control of digital platforms. Moreover, China’s rapid advancements in artificial intelligence, cloud computing, and digital surveillance are challenging US dominance, threatening to reshape global power structures.

This transition is already visible, as digital infrastructures become crucial arenas of influence and control. For example, the world’s most critical infrastructures — financial markets, government data, and military communications — increasingly depend on cloud services. And while the biggest three cloud services are operated by US companies — Amazon Web Services (AWS), Microsoft Azure, and Google Cloud — China’s Alibaba Cloud and Tencent Cloud are gaining ground globally.

Similarly, social media platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter have become indispensable global information pipelines, shaping the flow of news, political discourse, and public opinion in large parts of the world. Governments in the Global South can no longer effectively ensure free and transparent political and social discourse without reckoning with Silicon Valley’s digital gatekeepers, because these platforms determine visibility, set content moderation rules, and possess the power to amplify or suppress political narratives. The algorithms that govern social media interactions, largely designed to maximize engagement and profitability, disproportionately benefit well-funded actors and corporate actors, thereby eroding the autonomy of Global South governments in controlling misinformation.

In some cases, these platforms actively shape political dynamics — for instance, the owner of one of the most influential among them has openly supported the German far-right party Alternative für Deutschland (AfD). But the rise of Chinese platforms like TikTok is carving out alternative digital spheres, posing a direct challenge to Silicon Valley’s dominance.

And AI-driven governance systems, from predictive policing to automated border control, are becoming integral to state power, often in alignment with US tech firms and the government structures that back them. It’s not that state power is becoming irrelevant but that it is being reshaped through its entanglement with digital architectures. State control is not vanishing but evolving into a model where political authority is increasingly exercised through corporate-aligned technological frameworks.

While Big Tech exerts enormous influence, it operates within and in tandem with older institutions of US and capitalist power. Biometric identification and financial inclusion programs — at one point supported by international development organizations like USAID — are now increasingly embedded in AI-powered surveillance infrastructures, reinforcing American technological influence. This landscape is rapidly evolving, as China engages in an AI arms race with the United States. The recent release of Deepseek, hailed as “China’s Sputnik moment,” has sparked renewed fears of Chinese advancements.

In this shifting landscape, USAID is no longer a particularly relevant vehicle for American corporate influence. The everyday work of maintaining global hegemony has shifted from diplomats and aid workers to what Brooke Harrington has called “broligarchs,”  megarich Silicon Valley tech executives and venture capitalists. Their strategies include efforts to establish alternative cryptocurrencies and monetary services (by the “Paypal Mafia” with roots in apartheid South Africa); the building of private civilian infrastructures such as “startup cities” unencumbered from the limitations of democratic governance; and even playing decisive roles in outright wards, as Elon Musk’s Starlink did in the Russia-Ukraine conflict.

What is perhaps most nauseating in all of this is the way in which the liberal left now celebrates figures like Samantha Power, the former USAID administrator under Joe Biden. Power, an Obama-era humanitarian interventionist, is lionized as a liberal hero, someone who champions democracy and human rights. Yet her tenure at USAID, like those before her, was fundamentally about reinforcing US global power and reestablishing the United States in its rightful place as the world’s “indispensable” nation. The celebration of figures like her reflects a broader nostalgia for the “good old days” of benevolent and disguised American imperialism — the days when soft power was wielded with sophistication, and when interventionism had a more palatable veneer.

While USAID was undeniably a tool of imperialism, its dismantling does have real consequences. The withdrawal of USAID funding will not simply mean an end to American soft power — it will mean tangible suffering for millions of people. Vaccine distribution programs, food aid, and health initiatives will be disrupted, leading to increased mortality rates in vulnerable regions. This is the paradox of imperialism: its collapse is rarely clean. While digital imperialism may be the new frontier, the abrupt dismantling of traditional aid structures will create humanitarian crises in the short term, disproportionately affecting those who had no say in these geopolitical shifts.

USAID will no longer serve as the central engine of corporate American global control. We have moved from an era of development imperialism to one of digital imperialism, where the battlegrounds are no longer foreign aid projects but data centers, algorithmic governance, and information monopolies. The principal tools of global imperialism today are not aid agencies but Big Tech, artificial intelligence, and digital platforms that dictate the contours of our political and economic realities. The US corporate empire marches on, not through foreign aid, but through digital domination.