In a world where aid budgets are under pressure and global trade faces renewed barriers, Samuel Brazys’s The Invisible Hand(out): Aid, Access, and Unequal Globalization, one of the latest in the DSA – OUP book series could not be more timely.

“The current world we’re in is a really dangerous moment for countries in the Global South, especially those that have been left behind by the last wave of globalisation. If we don’t think clearly about it, they risk being left even further behind,” explains Brazys. It’s why now more than ever, those working in aid and trade need to come together. 

For decades, aid experts and trade specialists have worked in parallel but separate lanes. Aid debates have focused on effectiveness, institutions, and project delivery. Trade circles, meanwhile, have dealt with tariffs, quotas, and market access. Rarely do these two conversations intersect.

Brazys argues this divide is a serious problem: “You can have all of the effective aid in the world,” he says, pointing out that “so many countries in the Global South are pursuing export-led development, but if there isn’t access for the goods being produced, all that effectiveness of aid is going to be lost. And likewise, you can have all the market access in the world, but if the tools aren’t in place for economic actors in the country to produce something to take advantage of that market access it doesn’t really matter.”

One misconception Brazys takes on is the idea that underdevelopment is mainly the fault of countries themselves. As he notes, “A lot of the narrative or comparative underdevelopment or comparative growth puts the onus on developing countries: you haven’t developed because of issues with you. But what the book highlights is that many of the decisions that create fertile ground for growth and development are actually outside their control, set by policies and politics in the Global North.”

Another myth is that aid always promotes development. In practice, much of what gets labeled “aid for trade” has little to do with trade at all. In Colombia, he explains, large amounts of so-called US trade aid were in fact counter-narcotics programs designed to shift farmers from coca production, which is valuable, but not trade-driven development.

Trade, too, is often misunderstood. On paper, countries may enjoy tariff-free access. But as Micronesia’s experience shows, exclusions on key goods such as processed tuna, the islands’ main potential export, can make “market access” meaningless.

Brazys resists offering a panacea, echoing his former mentor Elinor Ostrom’s reminder that “there are no simple solutions.” But he says one option is for honesty.

If aid is really about counter-narcotics, call it that. If market access excludes the one product a country could realistically export, acknowledge it. “It would actually behoove policymakers and practitioners to be a bit more honest,” Brazys argues, “Because public frustration with aid often comes from the perception that it doesn’t work. Being clear about what aid is meant to do could reset expectations and rebuild trust.”

Globalisation is fragmenting. Aid budgets are tightening. Trade is increasingly politicised. For countries already on the margins, the risks are stark. Brazys warns: “We risk driving a further wedge between the haves and have-nots, and the developing and not developing countries in the Global South.”

For development professionals, the book offers not just academic debate but practical insight into why aid and trade must be seen as two sides of the same coin. It challenges practitioners to break down silos, confront misconceptions, and push for both effective aid and meaningful access if growth and equality are to be achieved.