
New Zealand takes scalpel to foreign aid budget
Finance Minister Nicola Willis unveiled the coalition's second budget on Thursday, with a headline deficit of $NZ14.7 billion ($A13.5 billion).
Budget documents show official development assistance (ODA) spending dropping from $NZ1.1 billion last year to $NZ999 million this year, its lowest level since 2021.
These figures do not include a drop in the cost of managing ODA, also cut by seven per cent from $NZ100 million to $NZ92.7 million.
In parliament, Ms Willis said the $NZ100 million cut was in the area of climate finance - which is aid given to developing nations to help them adapt or mitigate to the threat of global warming.
Budget papers show the government replacing a previous $NZ200 million annual commitment with a $NZ100 million budget line, but with no guarantees it will be spend on climate finance.
"The new funding will be used for (aid) projects with a priority focus on the Pacific. It will not be exclusively focused on meeting climate finance objectives," the budget states.
Terence Wood, ANU-based development fellow, called the new budget a "grim tale".
"When inflation is taken into account, by 2026/27 New Zealand aid will have fallen to 2019 levels, and it will have done so over a period where - thanks to climate change, illness and war - the need for aid has been rising fast," he wrote.
According to World Vision, New Zealand's aid is now 0.24 per cent of gross national income, well short of the UN-backed goal of 0.7 per cent.
World Vision New Zealand director Grant Bayldon said the cut in climate finance amounted to New Zealand "turning its back on the Pacific region".
"New Zealand made a clear commitment under the Paris Agreement to support people in the world's most vulnerable countries to adapt to climate change," he said.
"Many of them are our Pacific neighbours, where children are already facing the devastating impact of climate change. We promised to stand with them – now we're pulling back."
Nick Henry, Oxfam Aotearoa's climate justice lead, said the cuts came after New Zealand made commitments to triple climate financing by 2030 at the UN's climate summit last year.
"This is really hard to understand as anything other than a breaking of that promise and a betrayal of our Pacific neighbours," he told NZ website Newsroom.
Ms Willis told parliament Foreign Affairs Minister Winston Peters argued for more aid.
"Members will not be surprised to know that the Minister of Foreign Affairs has made a case for more funding, and this will be looked at in future budgets," she told parliament in her budget speech.
The tough budgetary treatment for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade (MFAT) stands in contrast to the coalition's first budget.
In 2024, Mr Peters was able to spare MFAT from cuts averaging seven per cent to most agencies, instead given a one per cent reduction.
Mr Peters - who was in Adelaide on Friday for the six-monthly dialogue with Australia's foreign minister - did not respond to a request for comment.
In its most recent budget, Australia increased foreign aid in real terms, but the amount also fell to 0.18 per cent of GNI.
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ABC News
17-07-2025
- ABC News
Australian aid projects in limbo after Trump administration scrapped USAID, FOI reveals
Two Australian-backed aid projects were left in limbo when the United States government cut USAID funding, slashing billions of dollars of aid worldwide. Freedom of Information (FOI) documents obtained by the ABC show Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT) officials sought details on what projects would be affected by Donald Trump's decision to close USAID. The documents show USAID was "holding funds" paid by Australia for two separate aid projects. A total of $1.5 million given to USAID to help deliver a clean drinking water project in Indonesia was returned to DFAT on June 12 this year. Details of the other project were redacted from the documents obtained by the ABC due to including "material in the nature of opinions and recommendations in relation to the department's deliberative processes", DFAT said. Former World Vision Australia CEO Reverend Tim Costello said he was "so glad that Australian taxpayers' money came back" but said the situation had been a close call for DFAT. "[Donald] Trump and [Elon] Musk destroyed USAID and it is going to cost 15 million lives by 2030. Having Australian taxpayers' dollars lost in that would have been an insult to injury," he said. The ABC's FOI request to DFAT specifically asked for: "All documents relating to the transfer of DFAT funds to the United States Agency for International Development (USAID)." The Indonesia water project was set up as a Delegated Cooperation Arrangement, DFAT said. These arrangements allow governments "to delegate support to another donor partner", while "the lead donor holds the contractual relationship with the implementing partner for the program, and funds them directly", DFAT added. In this Indonesia project, Australia contributed more money but USAID took the lead on the ground, the FOI documents show. DFAT told the ABC that such arrangements were "common practice". But Rev Costello said he wasn't aware that direct funding being made to USAID was common practice. "I was surprised by that," he said, but added "there is a lot of cooperation between them [DFAT and USAID]". "I didn't know that we directly funded USAID but I assume it's joint projects and I know that the humanitarian sector see many donor governments working in cooperation," he added. Rev Costello said it would have been a "sobering lesson" for DFAT to have to ask for the money to be returned. Research Associate at the Lowy Institute's Indo-Pacific Development Centre, Grace Stanhope, said financial cooperation with other bilateral government agencies was "really quite rare". "I suspect we do cooperate fairly often with the US but it just happens through a third-party," she added. Ms Stanhope said $1.5m was a small amount of money in the context of Australia's total aid spending. But she said it was important it was returned. DFAT acted as co-donor for the Indonesia Urban Resilient Water, Sanitation and Hygiene Activity, which was also known as IUWASH Tangguh. The project aimed to increase access to "poor-inclusive, climate-resilient, safely managed drinking water and sanitation services" in Indonesia. USAID was the lead donor, which meant it took the lead in implementing the project and agreed to "administer and manage the contribution of DFAT", according to the signed arrangement document. As seen in the plans in the FOI documents, Australia agreed to commit a total of $2.9 million ($US1.9 million) while USAID agreed to pay $US408,861.96. Only $1.5 million was ever actually sent to USAID from DFAT. The second payment of $1.4 million was cancelled following USAID's shutdown. USAID made the privately held development company Development Alternatives Incorporated (DAI) the implementing partner for the project. A spokesperson from DAI confirmed to the ABC that the "IUWASH Tangguh was among those DAI projects terminated". The spokesperson added the project was scheduled to run until March 2027, but was unable to comment on the amount of funds unspent. This program was one of "many programs in the region that have been impacted by USAID cuts", chief of policy and advocacy at Australian Council for International Development (ACFID), Jessica Mackenzie, said. ACFID is an Australian non-government organisation involved in international development and aid. "Water, sanitation and hygiene programs are core to development programming and help change lives," Ms Mackenzie added. Ms Mackenzie added that Australia often worked with like-minded partners on development programs and "Australia has jointly funded numerous development projects with USAID, especially in the Pacific". She added that there has been a shift away from joint funding in recent years as countries are "driven by a desire for more direct control over aid delivery". "Though with decreasing humanitarian funding in 2025, after significant donor cuts, we may see more pooled funds emerging soon," Ms Mackenzie added. Ms Stanhope said that while this incident would likely make DFAT "pause before doing joint projects bilaterally" going forward, she "wouldn't want this to become a reason for DFAT to do less co-financing". "I think the bigger picture is that especially in Asia and the Pacific, lots of donors doing lots of small projects leads to aid fragmentation and inefficiencies and duplication of projects," she said. "Something that we should be doing more of is co-financing with other implementing agencies and only when it's sensible."

ABC News
09-07-2025
- ABC News
World Vision Australia CEO takes own charity to Fair Work after tenure ended
World Vision Australia CEO Daniel Wordsworth has taken his own charity to the Fair Work Commission, after the organisation told staff it had ended his tenure as chief, and amid wider claims of a toxic workplace at the charity. Mr Wordsworth was confirmed to be the subject of bullying complaints which World Vision independently investigated but were not substantiated. One complaint remains under investigation. A source within World Vision told the ABC that past and present employees had been given the opportunity to contribute to the external investigation into bullying allegations "that found nothing further" to probe. However, despite that finding, the board's chair Peter Trent confirmed to staff this evening Mr Wordsworth would be departing the organisation he had led since March 2021. "CEO Daniel Wordsworth will end his tenure at World Vision Australia. The Board has decided to not extend his contract and to seek fresh leadership for the organisation," the email read. "Mr Wordsworth steered the organisation through the COVID-19 pandemic and the response to humanitarian crises and conflicts such as the ongoing war in Ukraine. "The Board will shortly commence the search for Daniel's replacement." Insiders have described to the ABC a charity in turmoil with multiple former staff saying the organisation has been plagued by bullying complaints and staff exits. Staff said they strongly believed in the charity and its work but became disillusioned by the culture. Mike Bruce, who worked as media manager from November 2019 to July 2022, told the ABC he resigned after losing faith in the organisation's leadership. "I reluctantly left WV over what I felt to be a culture of toxic and autocratic management that was at odds with a faith-based charity like World Vision." Another former employee, speaking on condition of anonymity, said the environment was unsafe. "I saw colleagues bullied out of the building and then it happened to me. Managers either couldn't or wouldn't protect their staff." In a now-deleted TikTok video, Mr Wordsworth reflected on his own leadership approach. "I used to have an open-door policy for five or six years. But after a while, I realised the only people coming in were the ones whining and complaining. The really good people, the ones doing the work, were out there, not in my office. "I had to go find them and get their input. If you just sit in your office and wait, you only hear from a certain type of person. The real competent ones, the really experienced ones, are out there working. You've got to go ask them. You want to listen, but only to people whose ideas are better than chance."

Sydney Morning Herald
05-07-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
On the edge of danger, children laugh in quiet defiance of Putin and his missiles
Beneath the shattered streets of Ukraine's second-largest city, Kharkiv, children gather to learn. Crayons and chalkboards replace missiles and sirens, if only for a few hours. It's here, in these makeshift underground classrooms, that young Ukrainians cling to fragments of childhood amid a relentless war raging just above. Less than 40 kilometres away, the Russian border marks the edge of danger – where Vladimir Putin's missiles and drones streak through the sky, giving barely minutes from launch to impact. Since February 2022, Kharkiv has been under near-constant bombardment. Every night, sirens wail, explosions shake buildings, and the knowledge that no place above ground is truly safe hangs in the air. Yet, amid the rubble and ruin, life persists. And nowhere is that tenacity more visible than in the children of Kharkiv – their laughter, their lessons and their quiet defiance in bunker classrooms. With most schools boarded up and having shifted online, these subterranean spaces aim to provide mental health and psycho-social support, and non-formal education services to children, adolescents and their families while missiles fly overhead. When it is safe, the children and those supporting them venture above ground instead. For many children here, this is a lifeline. Artem, a shy boy who recently finished grade four, is one such child. His mother, Svitlana Martynova, gently explains that Artem has grown quieter since his father was wounded on the front line in Donetsk, losing a leg in combat. 'These classes give him safety, routine, a chance to be with other children again,' Martynova says. 'After so much isolation, it matters more than anything.' She spent months by her husband's side at a hospital in Chernivtsi, nearly 1000 kilometres away, where he is still rehabilitating. 'For three months, my children had no parents at home,' Martynova says quietly. 'It was the hardest time.' She brings Artem to school not just for lessons but for connection. 'He's still shy. Still closed. But he has one friend here, Misha,' she says with a small smile. 'It's something. It's the beginning.' In these fragile moments, the classroom offers safety, routine, and the chance to be with others – a world apart from months of isolation. When asked what he wants to be when he grows up, Artem whispers he wants to be an IT specialist – smart and capable, like the people helping him now. He is just one of the city's children to find refuge in these child-friendly sites, almost 100 of which have been established across Ukraine by World Vision and its project partner, Save Ukraine, with funding from the European Union. Their subterranean spaces are a grim necessity. In the suburbs, beneath a concrete Soviet-style building, a long staircase descends into one such classroom. At street level, war is ever-present; below, it is temporarily forgotten. Walk downstairs, and you hear the murmur of a lesson in progress – Ukrainian grammar, maths or a story. It could be any school, anywhere – if not for the blast-proof doors, reinforced ceilings and constant reminders of the danger just beyond. On a sunny day like today, there's some hopscotch or soccer outside. But everyone remains on alert. Not far from Artem's story is that of Olena, a mother whose young daughter struggled to find her voice. For years, her daughter had never spoken a word. 'She was so afraid,' Olena recalls. Doctors once feared she might never speak. The terror had roots both at home and in war: Olena's older son faces serious psychological challenges, his outbursts frightening his little sister. Above them all, drones hum, explosions echo and the fear of losing one another lingers. 'She couldn't stand even a metre away from me,' Olena explains. 'She thought a missile might kill me. Or her. She wouldn't let go.' But two years ago, they discovered a child-focused centre – a quiet sanctuary tucked safely underground where children could play, learn and simply be children again. Here, Olena's daughter began to speak, to connect with other children, and to feel safe enough to leave her mother's side without tears. 'This place gave her back her voice,' Olena says, voice steady but full of emotion. 'It gave me peace. I'm so grateful – to the staff, the teachers and everyone who makes it possible.' The war's scars run deep, but so does hope. 'We are tired. But we are waiting – waiting for peace,' Olena reflects. 'And in the meantime, we smile for the children.' Elena, just 6½ years old and dressed like a little princess, beams with youthful energy in the same centre. She is among the first volunteers to talk to the visitors today to tell them how much she loves her school and her teachers. She loves painting, reading fairy tales and learning her ABCs. Though the night before had been disrupted by drone flights and sirens, and though she often clings tightly to adults when the sky feels unsafe, Elena finds solace in play and routine. 'She comes every day,' a translator says. 'She loves the mornings – there's more time to play.' War has become a constant, uneasy backdrop for all children here. Across the country, one in seven schools has been damaged by the fighting, many in areas taken over by Russian forces. But Ukrainians are ensuring learning continues. Many children have endured years of interrupted schooling – first the COVID-19 pandemic forced isolation and online lessons, then the full-scale invasion fractured education further. For some, learning stopped altogether. Teachers such as Olena Yeroshkina are on the front lines of this silent battle, striving to restore normalcy in abnormal times. Yeroshkina's classrooms are places of hope and healing. She teaches a generation of children whose lives have been upended. 'We can do nothing with missiles,' she says simply, 'but we can do something with children.' It is a line that echoes throughout the city's underground schools – a rallying cry amid devastation. 'Many have seen things they shouldn't have,' Yeroshkina says, referring to trauma, loss and relentless fear. The boundary between learning difficulties and psychological scars blurs. 'We go to the bunker every day,' she says. 'Every single day.' One girl in grade five began the year convinced she was stupid, unable to count or write properly. Months later, her confidence grew, and she began to ask for extra classes. Her small victories, like scoring seven out of 12 on a test, became milestones in healing. 'That kind of growth isn't just academic,' Yeroshkina says. 'It's emotional. It's about recovering pride and motivation.' Yet the challenges persist. In some occupied areas, Russian forces imposed their curriculum, banned the Ukrainian language, and turned schools into military bases. Rebuilding education is about reclaiming identity as much as it is about lessons. Still, Yeroshkina sees resilience in her students. 'These children adapt. They want to learn. They inspire us.' In another classroom, siblings Masha, 10, and Mikhail, 12, laugh shyly as they talk about their favourite games and subjects. Masha loves Ukrainian, maths and English; Mikhail prefers IT. Both adore their teachers – a small but meaningful victory in a city under siege. They laugh as they list favourite games: Who Am I?, Twister and a phone-based game called Avatar World. Masha has dyed her hair blue, 'just because I like the colour,' she says shyly, then grins when someone compliments it. But like most children here, their daily joy is shadowed by fear. 'She gets scared during the sirens,' Mikhail admits, glancing at his sister. 'I usually sleep through them.' A baby is expected in the family soon, and with it comes hope for new beginnings – a quiet defiance amid uncertainty. Masha dreams of visiting Australia, though 'not if there are spiders', she laughs. Slava Bondar, who helps run one space, says he is driven to help the next generation because his own life was shaped by hardship. Loading 'I grew up needing help – social services, food programs. I know what happens when no one steps in,' he says. 'We can't control the war, but we can make sure these children don't grow up feeling alone. That they have adults who care.' World Vision's Ukraine crisis response director, Arman Grigoryan, explains that children in Kharkiv often face bombings every night, with parents frequently on the frontline or injured. 'Without World Vision's safe spaces, these children would be stuck without seeing another child for five whole years and counting,' he says. At the heart of this effort are people like Serhii Poltavskyi, a hospital chaplain and father of seven. His children, once shy and uncertain, now play guitar, lead youth groups and teach younger kids at a local centre. 'This place – it's not just keeping them safe,' he says. 'It's where they grow and become.' His words reflect a community that has endured flight and fear yet remains anchored by hope and unity. 'Many left Kharkiv at the start of the war,' he says. 'But those who remain? They are the strongest. We are a concentrated core, thinking fast, acting together, helping each other.' Loading In a city where the sky can rain missiles at any moment, these children remind us of what remains unbreakable: hope, resilience and the will to grow. The author travelled to Ukraine as a guest of World Vision Australia.