By Million Belay, General Coordinator, AFSA
The recent shutdown of USAID operations across several African countries has sent shockwaves through political corridors, NGOs, and communities alike. For decades, USAID was a pillar of donor-driven development, funding everything from refugee support and healthcare to education and agriculture. Its sudden absence has exposed the fragility of aid-dependent systems and has left millions vulnerable, displaced, unfed, and uncertain about their futures.
Let me be clear: I do not celebrate the human suffering caused by this disruption, nor do I condone the abrupt and poorly planned withdrawal that left many African institutions and communities reeling. The impact has been real and devastating, and I feel the pain of those affected.
But I also see this moment as an opportunity, a critical point in the history of African food systems. The withdrawal of USAID from Africa’s agricultural policy space could be a blessing in disguise.
As someone who has worked on food sovereignty and agroecology for decades, I’ve witnessed firsthand how USAID has quietly but powerfully shaped Africa’s agricultural trajectory—not for the benefit of farmers or food sovereignty, but to serve corporate and geopolitical interests. Through its funding of the Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA) and support for regulatory reform to allow genetically modified organisms (GMOS), USAID has pushed an industrial, high-input model of agriculture that undermines local seed systems, displaces agroecological alternatives, and erodes national policy autonomy.
At the Alliance for Food Sovereignty in Africa (AFSA), we wrote not once but three times to Samantha Power, USAID’s Director, urging the agency to stop funding AGRA. We never received a reply. Our concerns were not rhetorical. We were seeing, in real time, the damage being done to African food systems through conditional aid—whether it was the watering down of Ethiopia’s biosafety law in 2015 (a process USAID funded), or the more recent shaping of continental agricultural strategies like the Comprehensive African Agriculture Development Programme (CAADP), where USAID-funded institutions like Policy Link and Academia 2063 led processes that deliberately sidelined agroecology.
Despite overwhelming demands from farmers’ organisations, researchers, and civil society actors across Africa, agroecology was excluded from the final CAADP Post-Malabo draft. Instead, what was promoted was the same industrial, input-heavy agricultural model that has failed to deliver on its promises, while depleting soils, increasing debt among farmers, and locking African nations into dependency on corporate seeds and fertilisers.
USAID’s influence has not just been technical—it has been deeply political. By funding and embedding itself within African government departments, regional bodies, and agricultural platforms, it has shaped who gets to make decisions, which voices are amplified, and what solutions are considered legitimate. In doing so, it has drowned out the voices of small-scale farmers, indigenous communities, and youth who are calling for food systems rooted in ecological balance, cultural knowledge, and sovereignty.
The time has come to reimagine our food systems, without the heavy hand of donor-driven mandates. Agroecology is not a fringe alternative. It is a scientifically validated, socially just, and ecologically sound approach that offers real solutions to Africa’s food crises. It builds soil health, increases biodiversity, strengthens community resilience to climate shocks, and empowers farmers to take control of their seeds, land, and livelihoods.
If the withdrawal of USAID creates space for African governments, civil society, and farmers to reclaim their policy space and reassert their agency, then this moment of crisis could become a moment of possibility. But only if we act decisively.
We must now demand that our governments invest in agroecology—not as a token add-on, but as the cornerstone of a sustainable food future. We must resist the resurgence of corporate-driven models in new forms and languages. And we must be vigilant in ensuring that new donors or public-private partnerships do not simply replicate the extractive patterns of the past.
Food sovereignty cannot be donor-driven. It must be rooted in people, in place, and in power. The demise of USAID in Africa may mark the end of one era, but it must also mark the beginning of another: one in which Africans define and build the food systems they truly want and need.
