Sweden: Can You Buy Borders with Aid? Sweden’s Quiet Bargain with Somalia Raises Old Questions in a New Era

STOCKHOLM — What price is paid to enforce a border? For Sweden, it may be 100 million kronor (about $9 million), carefully rechanneled through development aid — a familiar tool repurposed for an increasingly unforgiving migration policy.

The revelation, first reported by Sweden’s national broadcaster Ekot, paints a quiet but potent picture of diplomacy in 2025: transactional, strategic, and threaded with compromise. The Swedish government, under its new Minister for International Development Cooperation, Benjamin Dousa (Moderate Party), appears to have struck a tacit deal with Somalia — more aid in exchange for taking back deported Somali nationals who have failed asylum claims in Sweden.

There is no formal treaty. No signatures. Just mutual interests presented across diplomatic tables, and, as Dousa put it in a television interview this week, “a close dialogue where we’ve expressed our interests, and Somalia has expressed theirs.”

Sweden’s Silent Shift on Foreign Aid

For decades, Sweden was seen as a moral torchbearer in international development — spending over 1% of its GDP on foreign aid, often unconditionally, with a strong emphasis on human rights and civil society. But that model has been steadily eroded by domestic politics and geopolitical shifts. Dousa’s Moderate-led government has already introduced sharp reforms to tie aid more directly to Swedish strategic interests, including migration control and combatting antisemitism abroad.

“We have set new conditions,” Dousa told Morgonstudion, Sweden’s morning news program. “If we’re going to continue disbursing aid, it must align with our national priorities.”

Those priorities increasingly include stemming migration, especially from countries like Somalia, where integration challenges and security concerns have long dogged European capitals. Sweden has struggled to deport rejected asylum seekers to Somalia, many of whom remain stateless or without proper documentation.

Thus, a new approach: use aid as leverage.

Where the Money Goes — and Where It Doesn’t

Dousa insists that none of the redirected funds have gone directly to Somalia’s politicians or to the Prime Minister’s office. “That’s never been on the table,” he said. Instead, roughly 32 million kronor have been funneled into a joint program between the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and Somalia’s government, a project critics warn is “high risk” given Somalia’s fragile institutions and endemic corruption.

Still, Dousa stresses the funds are managed by the UN. “Of course, when the UN is building schools and clinics in Somalia, they coordinate with the Prime Minister’s office and other ministries — that’s normal. But we never provide direct budget support to politicians or the Somali state,” he said, adding that if any misuse of funds is detected, “we’ll pull the handbrake immediately.”

What’s at Stake in Mogadishu?

The Somali government, led by Prime Minister Hamza Abdi Barre, is under pressure. Its war against al-Shabaab is grinding and costly. Inflation and food insecurity are rising. Aid is essential. But so is legitimacy — both domestic and international.

According to Ekot, Somalia’s apparent counter-demand in the arrangement was that aid be channeled in ways that would give the Prime Minister’s circle more influence over how funds are used. Dousa denies any favoritism. But the reality of Somali politics — where clan loyalty, personal networks, and informal power dynamics shape much of governance — makes such assurances difficult to verify.

The question is not just whether the money will be spent well, but who will be seen as the benefactor in the eyes of Somali citizens. If it’s the Barre administration, that might help shore up his authority at a critical time. But it also puts Sweden in a delicate position: propping up a government whose values may diverge sharply from its own.

When Values Collide: Hamas, Hate Speech, and Hypocrisy?

Controversy exploded this week after TV4 and SVT translated a 2023 speech by PM Hamza Abdi Barre, in which he praised Hamas following the October 7 attack on Israel and, in deeply antisemitic language, referred to Jews as “descendants of apes and pigs.” The Swedish government, which recently adopted guidelines barring aid to antisemitic actors, was pressed to respond.

Dousa condemned the remarks as “horrific and appalling” but made no move to reconsider the aid agreement. “No money is going to him,” he said. “And if we couldn’t give aid to countries where extreme views or corruption exist, we could hardly provide any aid at all.”

That logic, while pragmatically true, exposes the moral tightrope that Western donors walk: balancing ideals with interests, and values with realpolitik.

Sweden’s Global Mirror

Sweden is not alone in this recalibration. Across Europe and North America, aid is being reshaped by populist politics and migration anxiety. Italy has signed deals with Tunisia. The UK attempted a now legally embattled deportation pact with Rwanda. Even Germany, long a donor heavyweight, is tying development funds more closely to migration cooperation.

It’s a global trend — what one analyst recently called “border externalization by checkbook.” But is it sustainable? And at what cost?

Critics argue that transactional aid undermines long-term development goals and sacrifices civil society in favor of short-term wins. Proponents say it’s simply responsible governance: aligning taxpayer-funded aid with domestic needs.

For countries like Somalia, it’s a double-edged sword. Aid offers resources and recognition, but it also carries strings — and expectations — that may not reflect local priorities or values. And for migrants and refugees caught in the middle, it can mean forced returns to places where safety and dignity are far from guaranteed.

Where Does This Leave Us?

Foreign aid was once framed as a moral commitment, a post-colonial responsibility, or a shared human obligation. Increasingly, it’s being reframed as a tool of leverage — a policy instrument to control flows of people, promote national interests, and manage global instability at arm’s length.

Whether this shift represents pragmatism or a loss of moral compass is an open question. But in Sweden’s quiet deal with Somalia, we see a glimpse of the future of international development: less about partnership, and more about policy calculus.

As climate, conflict, and inequality continue to drive migration, will wealthier nations double down on these deals? Or will they revisit the original promise of aid — to lift others up, not just keep them out?

The answer may shape not just borders, but global trust for generations to come.

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By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.