The real problem with USAID

Rethinking Food Assistance in a Changing World

A Call for Regenerative Aid: Rethinking Food Assistance in a Changing World

It has been said that food can be used as a weapon. And history has shown us that this is true—not just in times of war, but in the silent battles waged over economic power, political influence, and global control. From Russia to China to the United States, food has long been a tool in the diplomatic arsenal, shaping policies, economies, and, ultimately, people’s lives.

But what if we could turn this paradigm on its head? What if, instead of using food as leverage, we used it as a means of liberation? What if food aid wasn’t about dumping excess commodities into foreign nations but about empowering local food systems to thrive?

Because right now, we’re doing it wrong.

While filming in Northern Kenya I saw the Samburu people using USAID vegetable oil buckets

The Problem with Food Aid: A Misguided Solution

Let’s take USAID, for example—the United States’ global food assistance program. Designed as a lifeline for nations in need, it sends an average of $40 billion worth of agricultural goods overseas every year. But instead of providing nourishment and sustainable support, it often does the opposite.

Take the Sumburu people of Northern Kenya. A pastoral tribe that has thrived for centuries on a diet of blood, bone, and milk. No grains. No corn. No vegetable oils. Yet, USAID floods them with shipments of cornmeal, wheat flour, and refined seed oils—foods that are foreign to their system, unnecessary to their culture, and, quite frankly, useless to their way of life.

And what do they do with this so-called "aid"? They dump it. The oil tins, at least, get repurposed as water carriers—turning a useless import into a tool of actual value.

This is the reality of our current food aid system: a top-down, one-size-fits-all approach that disregards indigenous knowledge, local needs, and long-term sustainability. It’s a model built to benefit corporate agriculture rather than the people it claims to help.

The Corporate Stranglehold on Aid

The problem runs deeper than just poor food choices. Much of the aid money doesn’t actually go to feeding people—it funnels straight into the pockets of agribusiness giants.

Take, for example, the so-called "drought-tolerant" seeds shipped to developing nations. These genetically engineered, often patented seeds are designed in labs thousands of miles away by companies with little understanding of local ecosystems. And here’s the kicker: they’re not freely given. They come with contracts. Restrictions. Dependence.

Instead of inspiring community-led seed saving, soil renewal, and biodiversity, this model enforces dependency—turning once self-sufficient farmers into customers locked into a system they never asked to join.

USAID could be supporting local seed banks, indigenous knowledge-sharing, and regenerative agriculture training. Instead, it props up monocultures, chemical farming, and supply chains that mimic the industrial agricultural failures of the West.

A New Model for Aid: Regeneration, Not Dependence

We don’t need to throw out the idea of aid. But we do need to redefine it.

Disasters will continue to happen—earthquakes, floods, climate catastrophes. And yes, in moments of immediate crisis, bulk food assistance is vital. But beyond the emergency, we need a radical shift in how we think about feeding the world.

What if, instead of shipping in industrial grains, we invested in indigenous food systems? What if aid dollars went to revitalizing native crops, restoring soil health, and teaching regenerative farming techniques?

Imagine a USAID that:

• Funds community-led agroforestry projects rather than chemical-laden monocultures.

• Supports local farmers in developing drought-resistant food systems rather than selling them lab-engineered seeds.

• Creates a global knowledge-sharing network where farmers learn from one another instead of being dictated to by agribusiness interests.

This is not just about food security. This is about food sovereignty. The ability of communities to control their own food sources, decide what to grow, and thrive on their own terms.

The Bigger Picture: Fixing Our Own Broken System

But let’s not stop at reforming food aid abroad—because the system that props it up is failing at home, too.

In the U.S., the agricultural industry is dominated by just a handful of crops: corn, soy, and wheat. Three ingredients that make up the bulk of processed foods. Three ingredients that dominate the center aisles of every grocery store in America. Three ingredients that are at the heart of a public health crisis.

Sixty-five percent of the American diet now consists of ultra-processed foods. We’ve moved so far from real nourishment that our meals are often just repackaged derivatives of corn, soy, and wheat—designed for shelf life, not human life.

And yet, this is what we’re exporting to the world?

The industrial food system is not the model we should be spreading. It is a cautionary tale.

A Call to Action: The Regenerative Future We Need

If we truly care about global food security, we need to stop pretending that industrial agriculture is the answer. The solutions are already here. They exist in the knowledge of indigenous farmers, the wisdom of regenerative agriculture, and the resilience of localized food systems.

We don’t need another techno-fix. We need a return to the principles that have sustained humanity for millennia—healthy soil, diverse crops, and food grown in balance with nature.

So here’s the challenge: Instead of imposing industrial agriculture on the rest of the world, let’s learn from those who are already practicing real sustainability. Let’s invest in systems that regenerate rather than deplete. Let’s build a future where aid isn’t about dependency but empowerment.

This isn’t just a matter of food. This is a matter of justice. Of health. Of survival.

The future of food aid doesn’t have to look like the past. It can be something different. Something better. Something regenerative.

And that future starts now.