I was born in the Mediterranean island of Cyprus in 1952. At that time, Cyprus was a British colony. In 1955, the Cypriots started a revolution against the British occupants towards independence. In 1960, Cyprus became an independent country and a member of the United Nations.
Around that time, I was attending elementary school in a village close to the city of Limassol, located on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Two separate events from that period will remain indelible in my mind. One was the friendly visit of the American war plane carrier “USS Forrestal.” I remember standing in the school backyard and watching this massive structure, floating on the Mediterranean waters. I was ecstatic! At the time, I did not ask what the purpose of the visit was.
My second recollection was related to our daily breakfast at school. All attending children, about 200 of us, enjoyed a hot milk beverage every day, made from powdered cow’s milk. It arrived in big bags with a sign that said, “Powder Milk; a gift of the people of USA.” I drank this milk every day, but I never asked why the Americans were feeding us breakfast. I later understood that it was a gesture of goodwill, for the children of a newly formed and understandably poor country.
I also came to learn that this, and other similar gestures, were not unique to Cyprus. The U.S. was providing help to many nations in need. I cannot say, and I will not dwell, on the question of whether this action was a political strategy to buy respect from other nations or a genuine effort to help those in need, especially children. Maybe a bit of both.
I never forgot that daily cup of hot milk, and I developed an affection for the U.S. When I reached the age of 50 and became an established medical researcher in Canada, I decided to compete for a job in the U.S. I clearly remember my motivation: I wanted to be part of this great and generous country, and maybe even pay them back for my hot milk from 40 years ago. This did not happen but my affection for the country was never diminished.
There are countless people out there who got help from the U.S.; a cup of hot milk, a glass of clean water, a vaccine against cervical cancer, a drug for AIDS, or even an entire hospital (in Cyprus, I believe we have two, one in Limassol and one in Nicosia). Much of this was through the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), which is primarily responsible for administering civilian foreign aid and development assistance. Established in 1961 by President John F. Kennedy, USAID works to promote economic development, improve global health, support democracy and governance, provide humanitarian assistance, and address other global challenges.
I doubt the American public is aware of the full extent of these contributions, but I suspect that if they were, they would feel proud. What did the U.S. get in return? Perhaps affection, respect, and admiration (and maybe some political leverage).
This American way was the norm for decades. This situation is now changing dramatically.
The Trump administration has harshly criticized USAID spending as wasteful and has taken steps to shut it down. A judge has cleared the way for the Trump administration to pull thousands of USAID workers off the job and some 5,800 contracts have been formally canceled. While litigation is ongoing, I anticipate that USAID will cease to exist some time soon.
Ending USAID will likely not affect people like me, who now work in developed countries such as Canada, or those in the European Union. But it will affect poor citizens in Africa, Cyprus, and elsewhere, who will lose the medications and resources they cannot access otherwise. Predictably, their lives will go from bad to worse, and many will succumb to preventable diseases as a result, due to the prohibitive cost of life-saving vaccines. These diseases will worsen global health, and may eventually wash ashore in America, too.
One day the U.S. may ask itself if the withdrawal of support was worth it: what is the cost of being a beloved world leader? For me, it was the cost of a hot cup of milk when I was 8 years old. For somebody else it could be a glass of clean water, a scholarship, an AIDS-fighting pill, or a vaccine. These are relatively small contributions for winning respect and love, and for helping to prevent the global spread of infectious diseases.
The alternative is for America to become richer but perhaps universally hated. President Trump’s short-sighted goal appears to be generating more money at home at any cost. If he continues down this road, the world must find other nations who are ready to lead by being generous, not greedy. After all, I did not enjoy my milk 40 years ago because it was American. I enjoyed it because I was in need, and somebody happened to provide it. Unfortunately, it may be too late by the time Trump realizes that buying my affection for a cup of milk was a great bargain for the U.S.
Eleftherios P. Diamandis, MD, PhD, is senior scientist at the Lunenfeld-Tanenbaum Research Institute (LTRI) at Sinai Health System in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
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