By Kate Pundyk
In January 2025, United States President Donald Trump began dismantling USAID, the largest foreign aid organization in the world. The ‘stop work’ order came so abruptly that many clinics and aid stations throughout the world were forced to close overnight. Other nations soon joined the United States: the UK cut their aid by 40%, Germany cut 27%, Canada 25% and France 19%. A recent study published in The Lancet estimates these aid reductions will result in more than 14 million avoidable deaths worldwide by 2030. In Uganda, where I spent my internship, my colleagues called it the “humanitarian reset.”
To reflect on my summer with the Refugee Law Project in Kampala, this blog post will provide an overview of Uganda’s open-door refugee policy and what that means in the context of the global “humanitarian reset.” It will add colour to the policy papers and statistics by describing what I observed in practice. This summer, I learned a simple and obvious truth: when you cut foreign aid, people starve.
Uganda’s Open Door Policy
Uganda has long maintained an open-door, self-reliance policy for refugees: under its 2006 Refugee Act and 2010 regulations, refugees are allowed to work, move freely, access national schools and health services, and receive plots of land to farm. For people fleeing many countries neighbouring Uganda, refugee status is granted automatically (‘prima facie’), because the widespread violence in their home countries is sufficient proof that they need protection. This progressive approach has drawn global praise, and today Uganda hosts by far the largest refugee population in Africa (about 1.9 million as of 2025).
When I asked one of my Ugandan colleagues why they accept so many refugees, she stressed it is because of Uganda’s history of conflict. For two decades, Northern Uganda suffered a violent insurgency by Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army, resulting in more than 100,000 deaths; 60,000 to 100,000 child abductions; and 2.5 million people displaced. The peace process began in 2006, and Refugee Law Project’s office in the northern city of Gulu has been actively involved in improving regional stability. My colleague stressed that the legacy of this conflict means Ugandans cannot ignore the suffering of their neighbours.
However, an undeniable (and more cynical) strategic reason for this progressive approach is keeping foreign funds flowing. As of 2018-19, 41% of Uganda’s budget came from foreign aid. In a country plagued with corruption, donor funds have become indispensable to the Museveni regime’s patronage system. Museveni, who has held power since he overthrew Idi Amin in 1979, relies partly on Western satisfaction with the progressive refugee policy to maintain his grip on power.
Recently, however, multiple conflicts in South Sudan, the DRC, and Sudan have strained resources, and funding shortfalls now threaten the stability of this model. As of 2025, according to the UNHCR, Uganda’s refugee response plan is only 25% funded. Without increased support, the government has warned it may reconsider its open-door commitment. Even before the aid cuts, in 2024, Minister Hillary Onek cautioned that “if the international community doesn’t come to help and contain the situation, [Uganda] may become hostile and review the [open-door] policy.” Despite this, refugees continue to arrive, with the population expected to reach two million by the end of the year. Alarmingly, over one million are under the age of 18.
The Bargain Collapses
In March 2025, just before my arrival, the World Food Programme (WFP) began rationing food in Uganda. More than one million refugees were cut off from WFP support. In my visits to refugee settlements, I saw what this meant in practice: WFP food distribution centres completely shuttered. At a refugee settlement in Lamwo, the lack of food has become so dire that many refugees are choosing to return to South Sudan, despite widespread conflict there.
During my internship, I sometimes helped register and triage people seeking assistance from RLP. What struck me most was the unbearable task shouldered by the staff and translators who do this work daily: looking desperate people in the eye and telling them there is no money left to help. RLP can still provide legal aid and mental health support, but it cannot provide food. And yet, most who came through the door were not seeking legal advice—they were pleading for help to pay for food, medical care, or school fees. That money is gone. I watched the phrase “humanitarian reset” translated into Swahili, Arabic, Luganda, and other languages. Each time, I thought of politicians in wealthy countries—my own included—who decided to cut aid, but who will never have to face the people who suffer because of those choices.
Uncertainty Lies Ahead
One of the most striking moments during my time in Uganda came when a police officer addressed a group of newly arrived refugees. After explaining how they could safely integrate into Ugandan society, he ended with a plea: “Remember to pray for Uganda. We may have rough times ahead, so pray that we remain a country able to host our refugee brothers and sisters.” His words carried an uneasy truth.
Uganda faces presidential elections in 2026, and the foundations of Museveni’s patronage system are weakening as foreign aid dollars exit. Many fear the vote could unleash even more violence than in 2021, when security forces killed more than 50 people. Already, this election cycle has been linked to seven deaths, despite being in its early stages. Opposition figures have been abducted, tortured, and intimidated. Before the recent collapse of the aid sector, the Early Warning Project at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, in 2024, flagged Uganda as facing a heightened risk of mass atrocities around the 2026 elections. On the ground, I witnessed a society bracing itself— uncertain of what lies ahead.
One thing was clear: the abrupt exit of foreign support is leaving East Africa’s most vulnerable without much hope. While dedicated Ugandan human rights workers continue to try their best, their options are limited. Refugee Law Project and its partners provide vital support in a landscape where many other actors are receding. What remains uncertain is how long Uganda can sustain its role as a safe haven with so few resources left to draw on.