James Rayton

What can you do about Trump's defunding of global health programs & foreign aid? 

Trump's WHO Withdrawal: Head in the Sand, or Time to Act?

, who previously worked as a UN contractor and has a background in leading development and humanitarian teams, shares his thoughts about the US's withdrawal from the World Health Organisation, and what you can do about it. Since the time of writing, Trump has suspended foreign aid and pulled federal support for nonprofits, making individual action even more pressing. 

While it’s not a substitute for government, I strongly believe ordinary individuals can play a vital role in filling aid gaps. This is especially important when governments can't — or won't — act.

- James Rayton, Head of Community at Giving What We Can and former UN contractor

In early 2024, I was based in Somalia, managing the UN’s response to El Niño flooding, which had displaced over 2 million people. Flooding reduces people’s ability to access clean water, which in turn leads to increases in cholera. In Somalia by the end of the flooding, over 13,000 cases had been reported and 122 people had died from the disease. It was my job to co-ordinate our response to the crisis, helping agencies such as UNICEF decide where the needs were most pressing and how to best deliver aid. This job would have been nearly impossible without the World Health Organisation’s (WHO) monitoring and surveillance work, its expertise, and the material resources it provided, like oral rehydration therapy.

A lot of us know of the WHO’s work from the Covid response, but the health teams I was working with in Somalia had been in regular contact with WHO staff for their entire working lives. In 2024 alone, the WHO helped manage MPox outbreaks from the DRC to the wider region and collaborated with the Rwandan government to contain a Marburg outbreak. Historically, the WHO also played a pivotal role in perhaps the greatest achievement in human history – the eradication of smallpox.

It’s a vast understatement to say I was saddened, therefore, to witness the Trump administration's withdrawal from the WHO on day one. This move will reduce the WHO’s funding by around 15% when it comes into effect in 2026, and likely severely reduce its ability to support responses similar to the one I was involved with in Somalia — just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the important work the WHO does. As 

, cutting funding for an agency that helps manage both sudden, acute emergencies (like disease outbreaks & pandemics) along with ongoing "silent" crises (like malaria prevention and control) seems like one of the least strategic decisions a leader could make.

However, I am determined not to bury my head in the sand. While it’s not a substitute for coordinated government effort, I strongly believe ordinary individuals can play a vital role in filling aid gaps. This is especially true when larger institutional donors such as the US government withdraw from supporting organisations like the WHO, leaving an even greater funding gap for important global health and pandemic preparedness initiatives.

It's important to acknowledge that this funding gap — while significantly worsened by the US's withdrawal — is not new. The scale of global health issues has long meant they currently can’t be solved by government agencies alone. Thus, several NGOs are already operating in these spaces. Many of these NGOs work with local governments in the countries they serve to deliver scalable, highly cost-effective global health programs based on evidence-backed interventions like malaria nets and water chlorination. Because these interventions are so cost-effective, individual donors can do more than might be expected to support these programs.

Of course, where you donate matters. Experts in global poverty and charity evaluation estimate that the best interventions aimed at helping the global poor are 

around 100x more cost-effective than average

. An organisation is more cost-effective than another when it achieves 

 for the same amount of money. Part of our work at Giving What We Can, where I currently work as Head of Community & Partnerships, is empowering ordinary individuals with this information — reminding them of an astounding opportunity to help others that would have been unimaginable to most people throughout history, and providing a vetted list of our research team’s high-impact program 

Suggesting that individuals can step in where governments can't — or won't — might seem ludicrously inadequate. But the key is not the size of any single donation. It's rather about making strategic choices to support the most effective solutions to pressing global problems. By giving thoughtfully and intentionally, individual donors can create remarkable positive change in the world.

Take malaria prevention as a concrete example. Through the 

distribute over 200 million insecticide-treated bed nets

, protecting hundreds of millions of people from malaria. 

Each net costs just $5 and protects two people for up to three years. 

This straightforward, cost-effective intervention continues to save lives because individual donors recognize its incredible impact. 

Is anything you can do enough to protect 

 people from malaria? Of course not. Would it be better if the US government did the job of funding important, cost-effective work like this rather than leaving it to the world's citizens? Absolutely. 

But this doesn't change the fact that many, many more people are alive today thanks to the work of organisations like the Against Malaria Foundation, and  thanks to the (even modest) donations of the ordinary people who support that work. 

Additionally, when ordinary individuals join together, their collective impact can rival the impact of major institutions. 

 have already donated over $276 million to highly effective charities, and have 

Since the average person gives very little to charity — despite their 

relative place in the world's income distribution

 — an increase in the number of ordinary people supporting high-impact programs could lead to a mindboggling amount of progress. 

 to ask individuals to act instead of government and billionaires? No. It's not. But it's also not fair that, simply due to lottery of birth, some of us don't have to worry about our children dying from malaria or where the next meal will come from — and some of us do. So, for my part, I'm not going to stand by and do nothing just because it would be fairer if the government and billionaires acted instead.


In other words, instead of (or in addition to) pushing on people in power to make better choices, one thing we can control is our own actions. And if, like me, you’re worried about the gap this loss in WHO funding will mean for global health & pandemic preparedness, it’s reassuring to know that individual donors (like you and me) are helping fill critical gaps by supporting some of the most cost-effective organisations in global health and/or helping support crucial research & policy to guard against the next pandemic. 

It’s easy to see news like the US government defunding the WHO and feel helpless. And indeed, taking a moment or two to grieve and be angry about this decision is legitimate and justified. But then it’s time to get our heads out of the sand.

Whether you do this by speaking out against the WHO withdrawal, voicing your concerns with relevant stakeholders, or simply reaching out to loved ones to offer emotional support, consider also 

 to some of the world's most effective organisations. Their critical work is now more important than ever. You might even consider 

 to donate a meaningful portion of your income on an ongoing basis.

create remarkable positive change in the world.

Trump's WHO Withdrawal - Head in the Sand, or Time to Act?

Tom Delaney

Tom Delaney talks through his decision to take the 10% Pledge — and his experience as an Australian growing up in an informal settlement in North India. 

Taking the 10% Pledge whilst living in an informal settlement: An interview with Tom Delaney

, I’ve recently been doing lots of speeches about giving 10% of your income to impactful nonprofits. In these talks, I’ve tried to describe my own reasons for taking the Pledge, and for dedicating my career to encouraging others to take it.

For me, the Pledge is not just about generosity—it's about justice. Here's why: 

I’m part of the global top 1% of earners (adjusted for cost of living)

, but I’ve done nothing extraordinary to deserve it. It’s almost entirely down to luck. If I’d been born in Haiti, Yemen, or Somalia, my life could have been drastically different. The 700 million people living below the poverty line of $2.15 per day haven’t done anything to deserve the hardships of their lives. This huge imbalance is deeply unfair.

Unlike the middle classes in the global North, the middle classes in India are exposed to the scale of this inequality on a daily basis, and it showed when I attended a conference in Bengaluru last month. The positive response to the idea of giving was overwhelming. The Indian conference had a much higher percentage of attendees sign the pledge than others we’ve attended in the global North.

One interaction I had stood out. It’s the story of Tom Delaney, an Australian by birth who grew up in an informal settlement in North India, and still lives there today. Tom was motivated to pledge by seeing firsthand (and uniquely experiencing) the discrepancy in lifestyles represented by those living in the settlement and his family back in Australia. Tom volunteers in a nonprofit, 

, and despite the challenges of his environment, he made the 10% Pledge last month.

I caught up with Tom to learn more about his inspiring message:

Q: Tom, could you tell me more about your upbringing?

My parents are both Australian; dad trained as a social worker while mum had a maths and computer science degree. After a short-term trip to India in their uni days, their life plans changed drastically, committing themselves to work for – and with – the poor. They made the unusual decision to move into a slum (much to the dismay of my grandparents) – to better build relationships with the people they wanted to serve, and to better understand the root causes of poverty, and potential solutions.

So I grew up at the intersection of two very different worlds. Much of my time was spent playing with the neighbourhood kids – some weren’t getting square meals at home, others were facing domestic violence, many more were receiving grossly inadequate education and healthcare. But we would also visit Australia and marvel at the wide roads with barely a person on them, or the beautiful public libraries, with thousands of books available for free. I’m very grateful that my upbringing taught me what a beautiful but broken world we live in – how incredible its people but also how insane its inequality.

Q: I often talk about the challenges people face when living below the poverty line. Can you explain what that looks like in your community?

Poverty is a lack of cash, which translates to a lack of control over one’s own life, often leading to agonising decisions. Let me give an example. Last year, I published with my mother a 

reflection on public healthcare accessibility

 where we tell the story of Aliya, 16, who had been suffering terrible stomach pains and had awful constipation. Her family had taken her on a circuit of private hospitals, racking up heavy bills but not getting a proper diagnosis. Now they faced a terrible choice – go further into debt, at a high interest rate, which could potentially result in them losing their house, or give up on seeking medical care for Aliya. Thankfully, they chose to seek further care – if they hadn’t, Aliya (who was eventually diagnosed with abdominal tuberculosis and was in danger of a large intestine rupture) would have likely died.

Sadly, this type of scenario is quite common. To me, it encapsulates what poverty is all about – an inability to meet all one’s needs, a feeling (and reality) of powerlessness amidst forces (governments, corporations, diseases) beyond one’s understanding and control.

Q: I’m guessing with Australian parents, you might have more resources than others around you. Does that create tension living alongside people in very different financial circumstances? How do you navigate that?

Most days, I am asked for money. This may be from a beggar on the street corner who I don’t know at all, or from a friend struggling to pay for her child’s school uniform, or from a neighbour hit by a sudden medical crisis. Naturally, this creates both internal and interpersonal tensions: I want to help, but also need to be wary of dependency traps and being perceived as a walking ATM. I try to ask myself and the individual some key questions when I decide whether to give my money. Firstly, will this help them in the long term? For instance, I’m much happier giving towards education than expenditure on wedding or festival feasts. Secondly, I ask the person I’m giving money to whether they could also contribute something. For instance, in helping people get a government 

 – with significant health, economic and environmental benefits – my NGO expects people to pay half the cost, making it more likely that they will value and use the gas connection. Finally, I ask whether the person can give back or pass it on. Reciprocity is innate, and most people like to help others. I often accept the generosity of my neighbours inviting me for a meal. At Dignity Vision Education International we also encourage people to pass on skills they’ve learnt – for instance, asking kids who became literate through our after-school program to join us in teaching others.

I realise that some might find these types of questions a bit paternalistic, and I agree that paternalism is a real problem. However, I also see quite a bit of “present bias”

 in my community and I’ve found that some of these frameworks can help overcome that.

Q: What inspired you to sign the 10% Pledge?

Signing the 10% Pledge was a no-brainer for me. I have all my basic needs met comfortably, so it’s clear that my money would generate a lot more happiness and wellbeing in somebody else’s hands.

Some of my poorest friends have taught me a thing or two about generosity, by sharing a meal or giving to a beggar. If they can give self-sacrificially, why shouldn’t those of us who can give at very little cost to ourselves do so? Put it this way – if you earn $50k per year and donate 10% to Against Malaria Foundation, you would still be in the top 2-3% of global income earners, and you would also save one life every year! The life you help save is more than a statistic; they are a person who is just as real as you or me!

As a Christian, I often think of the principle that ‘he who has two shirts should share with him who has none’. And we have a lot more than two shirts! If you follow any other of the world’s major religions, you will find similar injunctions to give generously. But there’s no need to appeal to religion: the simple economic logic of diminishing marginal returns tells us that our resources will do a lot more good in the hands of those who have much less than we do.

I encourage anyone reading this to sign the Pledge too, making a commitment to your future self. The great thing about Giving What We Can is that you can make a life-changing or life-saving difference in the lives of some of the world’s poorest people - without needing to do anything as drastic as my parents did!

My neighbours are not poor because they are lazy – many work 12-hour days, 6 or 7 days a week. Nor are they poor because they’re stupid – some keep track of the amounts of money owed to ten different creditors, without writing anything down. The good news is, this means the cycle of poverty is breakable: my neighbours are not ‘basket cases’ doomed to remain poor forever. They have the skills, ingenuity and work ethic to build better lives for themselves. If we can help them clamber on to the bottom rung of the ladder, through effective interventions like those promoted by Giving What We Can, they can start climbing it.

Tom's story is a powerful reminder that giving is about more than generosity – it's crucial to our shared humanity. The global distribution of wealth is highly unjust – but we can play our own part in changing that, by recognising that we won the lottery of birth, and giving back to those who didn't.

James is the Head of Community and Partnerships at Giving What We Can. 

James' background is as an aid worker focused on leading international development and humanitarian teams. He spent 2019 to 2024 living and working in Somalia, Kenya and Rwanda.

James holds a bachelor's degree in Philosophy, Politics and Economics from Oxford University.

In his personal time, James is a passionate hiker and adventure enthusiast. He's at his happiest outside in nature. 

James is the Head of Community and Partnerships at Giving What We Can; helping to support and grow our network of givers. His background is in international development in East Africa.

James Rayton

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Trump's WHO Withdrawal - Head in the Sand, or Time to Act?

Taking the 10% Pledge whilst living in an informal settlement: An interview with Tom Delaney