UN conference seeks foreign aid rally as Trump cuts bite
Spain will host a UN conference next week seeking fresh backing for development aid as swingeing cuts led by US President Donald Trump and global turmoil hinder progress on fighting poverty, hunger and climate change.
French President Emmanuel Macron, South Africa's Cyril Ramaphosa and Daniel Noboa of Ecuador will headline the around 70 heads of state and government in the southern city of Seville from June 30 to July 3.
But a US snub at the Fourth International Conference on Financing for Development underlines the challenges of corralling international support for the sector.
Joining the leaders are UN chief Antonio Guterres, more than 4,000 representatives from businesses, civil society and financial institutions, including World Bank head Ajay Banga.
Such development-focused gatherings are rare -- and the urgency is high as the world's wealthiest countries tighten their purse strings and development goals set for 2030 slip from reach.
Guterres has estimated the funding gap for aid at $4 trillion per year.
Trump's evisceration of funding for USAID -- by far the world's top foreign aid contributor -- has dealt a hammer blow to humanitarian campaigns.
Britain, France, Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium are among the other rich nations that have announced recent aid cuts as economic and security priorities shift and national budgets are squeezed.
From fighting AIDS in southern Africa to educating displaced Rohingya children in Bangladesh, the retreat is having an instant impact.
The UN refugee agency has announced it will slash 3,500 jobs as funds dried up, affecting tens of millions of the world's most vulnerable citizens.
International cooperation is already under increasing strain during devastating conflicts in the Middle East and Ukraine, while Trump's unpredictable tariff war plunges global trade into disarray.
- Debt burden -
Reforming international finance and alleviating the huge debt burden under which low-income countries sag are key points for discussion.
The budgets of many developing nations are constrained by servicing debt, which surged after the Covid-19 pandemic, curbing critical investment in health, education and infrastructure.
According to a recent report commissioned by the late Pope Francis and coordinated by Nobel laureate economist Joseph Stiglitz, 3.3 billion people live in countries that fork out more on interest payments than on health.
Critics have singled out US-based bulwarks of the post-World War II international financial system, the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund, for reform.
Seville represents "a unique opportunity to reform an international financial system that is outdated, dysfunctional and unfair", Guterres said.
At a preparatory meeting at UN headquarters in New York in June, countries except the United States unanimously agreed a text to be adopted in Seville.
The document reaffirms commitment to achieving the 2030 UN sustainable development goals on eliminating poverty, hunger and promoting gender equality.
It focuses on reforming tax systems, notably by improving the Global South's representation within international financial institutions.
The text also calls on development banks to triple their lending capacity, urges lenders to ensure predictable finance for essential social spending and for more cooperation against tax evasion.
The United States said it opposed initiatives that encroach on national sovereignty, interfere with international financial institutions and include "sex-based preferences".
- Lack of ambition? -
While the European Union celebrated achieving a consensus, NGOs have criticised the commitment for lacking ambition.
For Mariana Paoli, global advocacy lead at Christian Aid, the text "weakens key commitments on debt and fossil fuel subsidies -- despite urgent calls from the Global South".
"Shielded by US obstructionism, the Global North continues to block reform. This isn't leadership -- it's denial."
Previous failures by rich countries to keep their promises have eroded trust.
After promising to deliver $100 billion of climate finance a year to poorer nations by 2020, they only hit the target in 2022.
Acrimonious negotiations at last year's UN climate summit in Azerbaijan ended with rich countries pledging $300 billion in annual climate finance by 2035, decried as too low by activists and developing nations.
Independent experts have estimated the needs upwards of $1 trillion per year.
Spain will be the first developed country to host the UN development finance conference. The inaugural edition took place in Mexico in 2002, followed by Qatar in 2008 and Ethiopia in 2015.
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Sydney Morning Herald
2 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
How my summer at The Hague shaped a lifetime
In Summer 2006, when I was practising as a junior lawyer, I was accepted for an internship at the United Nations International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY). I took leave from my job as a public law lawyer and left for The Hague with lofty ambitions of pursuing a career in international law. Though I knew the work of the ICTY was important, in truth, I knew very little about the war in Yugoslavia. The siege of Sarajevo, the longest siege in modern military history, had peppered the news throughout my years in high school, but the facts of this many-sided conflict were resistant to a straightforward description. The ICTY was an ad-hoc tribunal established by a resolution of the Security Council in 1993, intended to prosecute those who had held senior positions in the government and military for war crimes and crimes against humanity. It was the first properly international tribunal of its kind and relied on the principle of international law that certain crimes are so fundamental to our shared humanity that they are binding, whether or not a nation-state has agreed to them. Some said the ICTY heralded a new era in international law and order, in which atrocities would never go unpunished. Others were more circumspect, given the international community's stunning inaction throughout the war. In the mid-2000s, Slobodan Milošević was being tried for his role as a politician for participating in war crimes in an effort to realise his plan for Greater Serbia (which effectively meant using force to connect Serbia with Serbian-held territories in Bosnia and Croatia). A former lawyer, Milošević had, in a colourful fashion, represented himself during these proceedings, consistently denying his guilt and refusing to recognise the ICTY's jurisdiction. But after I had accepted my internship and before I arrived, Milošević died suddenly of a heart attack whilst detained at the tribunal. His unexpected death meant he was never actually convicted of the crimes for which he was indicted. When I arrived at the tribunal two months later, the mood there was distinctly sombre; questions were being asked about what meaningful legacy the tribunal could have in the absence of a final judgment against this man who many regarded as the war's symbolic figurehead. July marks the 30th anniversary of the Srebrenica massacre. In 2001, in the first conviction of its kind since the Nuremberg trials, the tribunal found in the case against Radislav Krstić, a military commander, that a genocide had unequivocally occurred. This finding was particularly significant since Srebrenica had been designated a UN 'safe area' and placed under the protection of UN troops. Their mandate was to protect the roughly 60,000 Bosnian Muslims who resided there, many of whom had been internally displaced from other areas of Bosnia. In reality, the UN troops were so effective in demilitarising the area in the lead up to July 1995 that Bosnian Muslims were largely unable to defend themselves when Serb troops advanced and UN troops, ill-equipped to defend the town, watched on. Over less than a week, more than 8000 Bosnian Muslim men between the ages of 16 and 65 were systematically murdered by Serb-controlled forces. To evade the killings, a column of approximately 10,000 Bosnian Muslims escaped into the woods near Srebrenica and survivors refer to these men – husbands, brothers, sons – as those who never returned 'out of the woods'. In some of the most harrowing testimony given at the tribunal, witnesses described Serb soldiers disguising themselves in UN uniforms to lure them out. Later, to conceal the crimes, mass grave sites were moved by excavators to secondary and even tertiary locations. Despite being the location for the adjudication of many of the world's highest-level conflicts, The Hague is a sedate, even serene city. In summer, the weather was temperate. On weekends, I went to the beach and waded out into an ocean that barely mustered a swell. The tulips at that time of year bloom in colours that are vivid and intense. Each day, I cycled along the flat streets, past the distinctive orange-brick houses and the canals to work at the tribunal. I arrived at the aptly named Churchillplein, where the flags of many countries were strung on flagpoles in a colourful row like prayer flags. Although until that point my specialisation and expertise had been in public law, something else quickly drew my attention. At every opportunity, I went to watch the tribunal in session and found myself torn between two conflicting feelings: on the one hand, the defendants appeared so incredibly ordinary, yet had been accused of unimaginable crimes; on the other hand, there was something utterly transfixing about the testimony of witnesses who gave evidence against people who, up to that point, they had lived alongside. Many women, for example, spoke of the last moments of seeing their teenage sons alive before they were transported from the UN base on buses. Despite the enormity of their losses, these witnesses, ordinary people in most cases, found the words to speak compellingly, hauntingly, about experiences that were nothing less than catastrophic. Loading Though debate continues about the tribunal's legacy, particularly because of widespread genocide denial, one of its very valuable achievements was providing a forum for survivors to speak about their experiences. In allowing more than 4000 witnesses to give evidence, the narrative of the war was shifted in a crucial way: the story of the war was told by survivors instead of by the leaders who perpetrated and encouraged mass violence. In retrospect, I think what I recognised in the testimony of witnesses was language operating at its most powerful. In these testimonies, these witnesses were not defeated by the horrific events they had witnessed, but were able to draw some sort of meaning out of the shocking violence and injustice they had observed. It's no exaggeration to say I returned to Australia fundamentally altered by what I had read and observed. In the wake of that experience, I found the strictures of international law far less meaningful than I had before. Not long afterwards, I enrolled in a course in creative writing and my whole life pivoted towards stories.
The Age
2 hours ago
- The Age
How my summer at The Hague shaped a lifetime
In Summer 2006, when I was practising as a junior lawyer, I was accepted for an internship at the United Nations International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY). I took leave from my job as a public law lawyer and left for The Hague with lofty ambitions of pursuing a career in international law. Though I knew the work of the ICTY was important, in truth, I knew very little about the war in Yugoslavia. The siege of Sarajevo, the longest siege in modern military history, had peppered the news throughout my years in high school, but the facts of this many-sided conflict were resistant to a straightforward description. The ICTY was an ad-hoc tribunal established by a resolution of the Security Council in 1993, intended to prosecute those who had held senior positions in the government and military for war crimes and crimes against humanity. It was the first properly international tribunal of its kind and relied on the principle of international law that certain crimes are so fundamental to our shared humanity that they are binding, whether or not a nation-state has agreed to them. Some said the ICTY heralded a new era in international law and order, in which atrocities would never go unpunished. Others were more circumspect, given the international community's stunning inaction throughout the war. In the mid-2000s, Slobodan Milošević was being tried for his role as a politician for participating in war crimes in an effort to realise his plan for Greater Serbia (which effectively meant using force to connect Serbia with Serbian-held territories in Bosnia and Croatia). A former lawyer, Milošević had, in a colourful fashion, represented himself during these proceedings, consistently denying his guilt and refusing to recognise the ICTY's jurisdiction. But after I had accepted my internship and before I arrived, Milošević died suddenly of a heart attack whilst detained at the tribunal. His unexpected death meant he was never actually convicted of the crimes for which he was indicted. When I arrived at the tribunal two months later, the mood there was distinctly sombre; questions were being asked about what meaningful legacy the tribunal could have in the absence of a final judgment against this man who many regarded as the war's symbolic figurehead. July marks the 30th anniversary of the Srebrenica massacre. In 2001, in the first conviction of its kind since the Nuremberg trials, the tribunal found in the case against Radislav Krstić, a military commander, that a genocide had unequivocally occurred. This finding was particularly significant since Srebrenica had been designated a UN 'safe area' and placed under the protection of UN troops. Their mandate was to protect the roughly 60,000 Bosnian Muslims who resided there, many of whom had been internally displaced from other areas of Bosnia. In reality, the UN troops were so effective in demilitarising the area in the lead up to July 1995 that Bosnian Muslims were largely unable to defend themselves when Serb troops advanced and UN troops, ill-equipped to defend the town, watched on. Over less than a week, more than 8000 Bosnian Muslim men between the ages of 16 and 65 were systematically murdered by Serb-controlled forces. To evade the killings, a column of approximately 10,000 Bosnian Muslims escaped into the woods near Srebrenica and survivors refer to these men – husbands, brothers, sons – as those who never returned 'out of the woods'. In some of the most harrowing testimony given at the tribunal, witnesses described Serb soldiers disguising themselves in UN uniforms to lure them out. Later, to conceal the crimes, mass grave sites were moved by excavators to secondary and even tertiary locations. Despite being the location for the adjudication of many of the world's highest-level conflicts, The Hague is a sedate, even serene city. In summer, the weather was temperate. On weekends, I went to the beach and waded out into an ocean that barely mustered a swell. The tulips at that time of year bloom in colours that are vivid and intense. Each day, I cycled along the flat streets, past the distinctive orange-brick houses and the canals to work at the tribunal. I arrived at the aptly named Churchillplein, where the flags of many countries were strung on flagpoles in a colourful row like prayer flags. Although until that point my specialisation and expertise had been in public law, something else quickly drew my attention. At every opportunity, I went to watch the tribunal in session and found myself torn between two conflicting feelings: on the one hand, the defendants appeared so incredibly ordinary, yet had been accused of unimaginable crimes; on the other hand, there was something utterly transfixing about the testimony of witnesses who gave evidence against people who, up to that point, they had lived alongside. Many women, for example, spoke of the last moments of seeing their teenage sons alive before they were transported from the UN base on buses. Despite the enormity of their losses, these witnesses, ordinary people in most cases, found the words to speak compellingly, hauntingly, about experiences that were nothing less than catastrophic. Loading Though debate continues about the tribunal's legacy, particularly because of widespread genocide denial, one of its very valuable achievements was providing a forum for survivors to speak about their experiences. In allowing more than 4000 witnesses to give evidence, the narrative of the war was shifted in a crucial way: the story of the war was told by survivors instead of by the leaders who perpetrated and encouraged mass violence. In retrospect, I think what I recognised in the testimony of witnesses was language operating at its most powerful. In these testimonies, these witnesses were not defeated by the horrific events they had witnessed, but were able to draw some sort of meaning out of the shocking violence and injustice they had observed. It's no exaggeration to say I returned to Australia fundamentally altered by what I had read and observed. In the wake of that experience, I found the strictures of international law far less meaningful than I had before. Not long afterwards, I enrolled in a course in creative writing and my whole life pivoted towards stories.
ABC News
3 hours ago
- ABC News
What US intelligence and leaks tell us about 'Operation Midnight Hammer'
The stealthy B2 planes, decoy flights, operational security, Pentagon deceptions, shrouded details on a new bomb never before used in combat, the secret facility they were dropped into in Iran — almost everything about the American strikes on Fordow works against a complete public accounting of what "Operation Midnight Hammer" achieved. No wonder there's a yawning gap between Donald Trump's version about "total obliteration" of Iran's nuclear programme and the more nuanced, if not contradictory, language adopted by others in US military and intelligence communities. It's not semantic hair-splitting either. Between Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth's description of nuclear assets being "decimated", the CIA's "severely damaged" and Israel's conclusion that Iran's nuclear facilities are "inoperable" sit serious considerations about what happens next in this most unstable region as well as the veracity of Trump's suggestion that "American strength has paved the way for peace". Almost a week on from the US intervention, the truth about what happened in Fordow stays in Fordow. Hegseth's dismissive quip that "if you want to know what's going on at Fordow, you'd better go there and take a big shovel" is probably closer to the mark than US intelligence agencies would care to admit. The point is; "battle damage assessments" — as the military calls the evaluation process — are, by necessity, being done remotely via satellite and other imagery, none of which is capable of gaining pictures where it matters most; beneath the surface. Apart from US aircrew accounts of what they saw from the cockpit, any on-the-ground intelligence drawn from human sources will take much longer to obtain or assess. So for now, we're left to rely on a portion of a preliminary top secret classified report on all the sites bombed during "Midnight Hammer", prepared by the Pentagon's Defence Intelligence Agency. CNN and the New York Times were among the first to quote people familiar with the DIA's report saying centrifuges were largely "intact" and another unnamed person who conveyed that "the assessment is that the US set them (Iranians) back maybe a few months, tops". Although CNN's reporting came with plenty of caveats about it being "early for the US to have a comprehensive picture", the obvious divergence from the White House line quickly unleashed the Trump administration's full fury. "Flat-out wrong," seethed White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt, "biased" vented Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, taking aim at the leakers and publishers alike. Hegseth's condemnation is no doubt infused with a fair amount of mock indignation, safe in the knowledge that attacking the media in hyperbolic ways will never get any member of the Trump cabinet fired — the boss created that genre after all. But just as George W Bush would learn the hard way with a premature "mission accomplished" banner in the Iraq war, a president's credibility and authority is diminished if unfounded assertions are made about the success of military operations. Two things need to happen for Trump's claims about "Operation Midnight Hammer" to withstand scrutiny over time. The first is that no enriched uranium cannisters previously stored at Fordow or elsewhere were removed and are later discovered in a revamped Iranian program. The second is that the broader US intelligence community, from Tulsi Gabbard as Director of National Intelligence to the CIA's John Ratcliffe, need to firm in their conclusions that the strikes were every bit as devastating as Trump and Hegseth have declared. On this, Gabbard and Ratcliffe have converged in recent days, with the CIA director stating "a body of credible intelligence indicates Iran's Nuclear Program has been severely damaged" and DNI Gabbard posting "new intelligence confirms what @POTUS has stated numerous times: Iran's nuclear facilities have been destroyed". But on the mission-critical question of whether any near-weapons-grade uranium was removed from Iranian facilities, the administration is far more circumspect with its language. We know the Iranians must have had ample suspicion Fordow was about to be bombed because, according to the Chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff General Dan Caine, they had time to plug two ventilation shafts with loads of concrete. Would that time also have allowed for trucks to shift material out? "I am not aware of any intelligence that I've reviewed that says things were not where they were supposed to be, moved or otherwise," Secretary Hegseth told reporters at his Pentagon briefing. You could drive a truck through that answer, which is far from a denial that the Iranians hadn't used dozens of them to move stockpiles days before the B2s flew overhead. Underscoring Pete Hegseth's confidence that the "obliteration" narrative will eventually stand as the story of record from "Midnight Hammer" is the 'fog of war' truism. It holds that the first accounts of combat operations nearly always turn out to be substantially wrong, confused by scattered individual recollections of events rather than being tested for common threads over time. That's why the administration is imploring the media to wait for a refined intelligence picture to emerge. For additional context, Hegseth has argued that the initial top secret Defence Intelligence Agency report covered by CNN, the New York Times and other media outlets was prepared as a "re-strike report" giving information to commanders "to see whether a target would need to be re-struck". If Washington's broader intelligence community ever settled on a final view that's in line with the leaked partial quotes we've seen from the DIA, for any consistency in the objective of destroying Iran's nuclear weapons capacity, another round of strikes would presumably have to come into consideration. Then again, due to the embarrassment it'd cause for so many from the president down, we might never know — neither Hegseth nor Caine has committed to any complete intelligence assessment of the bombing operation being publicly released.
