For Syrian Refugees, Trump’s Aid Cuts Have Been Devastating

Maybe it’s because of my age — a father of a twenty-something and a teenager who tends to view me as an unfortunate necessity — that I miss the early years of parenting. Oh, how I miss nibbling on those fat wrists and elbows; A child shouting “Daddy!” And I’m coming through the front door. Hear the extended clip of a seven-year-old’s day in lengthy detail.

This is one of the reasons I felt so frustrated during my recent trip to Lebanon and Syria, where I found myself among Syrian refugees, at the invitation of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. At some point, the terrible things I had heard from adult refugees began to fade: substandard living conditions, scarce job opportunities, fear of police raids. These Syrians now face a terrible choice between remaining in miserable conditions in Lebanon or taking their chances in Syria, which the UN security team in Damascus described as “unstable and volatile.”

Maybe it’s because of my age — a father of a twenty-something and a teenager who tends to view me as an unfortunate necessity — that I miss the early years of parenting. Oh, how I miss nibbling on those fat wrists and elbows; A child shouting “Daddy!” And I’m coming through the front door. Hear the extended clip of a seven-year-old’s day in lengthy detail.

This is one of the reasons I felt so frustrated during my recent trip to Lebanon and Syria, where I found myself among Syrian refugees, at the invitation of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. At some point, the terrible things I had heard from adult refugees began to fade: substandard living conditions, scarce job opportunities, fear of police raids. These Syrians now face a terrible choice between remaining in miserable conditions in Lebanon or taking their chances in Syria, which the UN security team in Damascus described as “unstable and volatile.”

Children are particularly at risk. Their faces are etched in my mind: the deep dark eyes, the curious looks, and the hidden smiles. There were children playing in ponds next to an abandoned school building, now home to 41 families, north of Tripoli and near the Lebanese-Syrian border. A little boy dressed in blue and carrying a modest push toy — the only toy I saw — fell into the water right in front of me. He laughed as I picked him up and handed him to his burly father.

Then there were the two young boys (one unexpectedly dressed in green “NY Jets”) and his baby sister, playing on a cobblestone path in an “informal tent settlement” – in the parlance of international bureaucrats – near Zahle in the Bekaa Valley. “Tent” is a misnomer, since the word conjures up images of tents. They were shelters made of plywood, old Commissariat tarps, corrugated tin, and whatever else could be scavenged from piles of rubbish. For this privilege, their parents pay a private landlord $150 a month and an additional fee for garbage collection, something that never seems to happen. Among the displacement camps in the region, Zahle was the worst I saw, and not just me. A retired ambassador I traveled with, who had an extraordinary career in some of the toughest places in the Middle East, agrees.

This was all terrible on the face of it, but I ache for these young children because of something I have learned over the years – war, politics, indifference and hostility have doomed them to lives on the margins, lacking dignity, and vulnerable to violence and exploitation. In all likelihood, they will not escape the legacy of former Syrian president Bashar al-Assad’s atrocities, the mockery of the current moment in American politics, and the exploitation of the Lebanese elite for political or financial gain, or both.

This is not a new discovery, of course. Journalists and humanitarian groups have been documenting the plight of Syrian refugees in Lebanon for some time. But it’s one thing to read about it while sipping coffee at my kitchen table, and to face the cold reality of widespread suffering. For days I was plagued by thoughts of how to help the children I met, mostly involving a fever dream in which I would raid my local Target, buy winter clothes for the kids, stuff the goods into suitcases, and return to Lebanon. I know: Western savior syndrome is not a good look, and of course it would be a drop in the ocean of need. Forgive me, I can’t bear to see little children suffer.

What makes matters worse is the deeply disturbing admission that the United States has made these children even more impoverished. And through an extended political drama in Washington that pitted globalists against MAGA, the US foreign aid budget was cut so people could beat their chests and have someone on the From where I stand near Tripoli and in the Bekaa Valley, the cheerful destruction of foreign aid programs – based on the idea that previous administrations were too generous – seems ridiculous and petty.

The real-world impacts of the DOGE brothers and their fanatical purge of the foreign aid budget are devastating. In Lebanon – a country with few resources – the government prevented the UNHCR from registering refugees for a decade, meaning they are ineligible for assistance. Medical care, mental health support, assistance for people with disabilities, and employment opportunities are all scarce. There are refugee children who have never been to school. The Trump administration’s slash-and-burn approach to foreign aid has made all of this worse. It is not difficult to imagine uneducated, isolated children who are called “Syrian” but have never set foot in Syria becoming angry and violent – ​​a lost generation vulnerable to extremists, warlords, traffickers, and gangs. This is very disturbing. Chaos and instability are not inevitable, but by making it more difficult for governments, UNHCR, and their partner organizations to mitigate some of the most pressing challenges refugees face, the Trump administration is increasing the chances of volatility and violence.

This is a very convenient place for think tanks in Washington. People in my circle like to claim that budget cuts in the United States lead to instability abroad. I’m self-aware enough to realize that I’m bordering on caricature here. But a caricature does not necessarily mean that I am wrong. Think about how young people who are disaffected, unemployed, or underemployed (primarily) are drawn to extremist groups that provide them with a sense of identity, purpose, and mission. It is not difficult to imagine how informal settlements could become hotbeds of extremism.

To be fair, despite all the cuts, the United States remains UNHCR’s largest donor (shame on the self-righteous Europeans and Canadians). Washington’s contributions are a burden partly because others are not doing enough. But in terms of burdens, they are not heavy. What Americans gave to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees before the foreign aid cut, and certainly what they give now, represents a small approximation of the total US budget. By doing this, we can ensure that young children have winter jackets and that sheet shelters meet some minimum basic standards. These modest steps should be part of the goals of the reduced foreign aid budget.

It is true that these children are not our children, and we cannot save the world. But we can make the life of a toddler or child less dangerous.