More cruel than hunger itself is the deliberate decision to ignore it — or worse, to use it as a political tool

By José Graziano da Silva | 22/05/2025

Today’s headlines report that Gaza has finally received humanitarian aid after three months of blockade by Israel. Under intense international pressure, especially after WHO denounced that over 2 million people were starving, five trucks carrying food and medicine were allowed in. Let’s repeat that because it sounds unbelievable: just five trucks.

In times of war, climate disasters, and economic instability, hunger has returned as a daily tragedy for hundreds of millions of people — despite a world that still produces enough food. Yet more inhumane than hunger itself is the political choice to neglect it or, even more perversely, to weaponise it. This shift has become blatant during Trump’s second term, which marks a turning point: hunger is no longer just a crisis — it is being used as a political and ideological weapon, dismantling the very foundations of humanitarian assistance within the United Nations system and promoting an agenda that disregards the most vulnerable.

The Global Report on Food Crises 2025, just released, paints a grim picture: more than 280 million people in 59 countries and territories are facing acute food insecurity — the highest number since the report began in 2017. Of these, 24 countries are in catastrophic or emergency situations, on the brink of full-scale famine — a term used when people are literally dying of hunger. The main drivers are, in this order: armed conflict, extreme climate shocks, and worsening economic conditions, often linked to unsustainable external debts and persistent inflation.

None of this is invisible. We know the causes. What’s missing is political will — or rather, there is deliberate obstruction. Since returning to office, Trump has aggressively resumed his assault on multilateralism. In January 2025, he signed an executive order banning any reference to diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) in U.S. federal government documents, calling such initiatives “immoral.” This stance has spread to the UN system, including FAO, where the U.S. ambassador recently demanded the removal of terms like “gender,” “climate change,” and “social justice” from the organisation’s programmes and communications.

And these are not just rhetorical attacks. The World Food Programme (WFP) — which provided food assistance to more than 150 million people in 2023 — has announced 30% funding cuts due to the withdrawal of U.S. contributions. That means fewer food baskets, fewer school meals, less support for local subsistence farming. The consequences are dire, especially in humanitarian hotspots such as Gaza, Sudan, and Haiti — where forced displacement and food crises are spiralling out of control.

The deadly combination of war, climate extremes, and economic collapse demands urgent and coordinated international action — at the very least, to secure a humanitarian truce. Yet the U.S. government’s posture is cynical: in April, Trump issued a directive barring federal agencies from considering climate impacts in their public policies.

Meanwhile, 36 million people have been internally displaced and nearly 10 million forced to migrate due to hunger. Food systems, already weakened by droughts, floods, and price surges, are collapsing under the weight of donor inaction. And when the U.S. pulls out of forums like the Global Alliance for Climate-Smart Agriculture or blocks UN resolutions on nutrition, it sends a clear message: hunger only matters when it aligns with U.S. geopolitical interests. Not even Nazi Germany during its collapse blocked humanitarian aid — precisely because such aid is supposed to be universal and unconditional.

Today, the rhetoric of “national sovereignty” increasingly overrides the principles of international solidarity. In March 2025, the U.S. was the only country to vote against the renewal of the Decade of Action on Nutrition, a resolution put forward by Brazil and France and supported by 158 countries. Trump’s administration claimed that fighting malnutrition offers “no tangible benefits to the American people.”

The ideological offensive did not stop there. At the latest FAO Council meeting, the U.S. rejected a proposal to align the agency’s governance with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), mirroring similar obstructionist positions recently taken at the UN. The current U.S. administration wants FAO reduced to a technical delivery body — distributing seeds and fertilizers, while avoiding any engagement with equity, climate justice, or food sovereignty. This is a clear attempt to depoliticize the fight against hunger — as if hunger were a neutral issue, untouched by social or economic inequalities.

But the facts say otherwise. FAO estimates that ending hunger by 2030 would require an additional $540 billion annually — a small sum compared to the over $2 trillion the world spends every year on military weapons. Hunger is not a technical problem. It is certainly not inevitable. Hunger is a political choice.

By politicizing global cooperation, the United States is eroding trust in the multilateral system, isolating itself diplomatically, and putting millions of lives at risk. The survival of institutions like FAO, WFP, and UNHCR (which plays a key role in Palestine) cannot depend on the ideological stance of a single government. The solution lies in shared and stable financing mechanisms, with greater leadership from Global South countries. Above all, it demands a renewed commitment to food security as a fundamental human right — for all, not just for the privileged few.

The UN, as the voice of the international majority, must stand firm in defense of multilateralism — with cooperation and human dignity as cornerstones of our shared future. Unconditional humanitarian assistance must be non-negotiable. After all, hunger is knocking on more doors than ever before. Ignoring it — or worse, using it as a political-ideological weapon — is an insult to humanity, and to our very condition as human beings.