What Does the Market Really Think About AI?

Speculations about Artificial Intelligence’s (AI) implications for society has reached a fever pitch. While OpenAI co-founder Sam Altman speaks of a future of radical abundance, others, including another OpenAI co-founder, Ilya Sutskever, warn of existential risks. Meanwhile, economists continue to debate whether AI will usher in unprecedented prosperity or widespread unemployment.

What are we to make of such a wildly divergent prediction?

While we cannot know which future will materialise, we can examine what those with “skin in the game” believe will happen. Financial markets aggregate the views of a multitude of sophisticated investors who are risking money on their convictions. If they genuinely thought AI might transform the economy, this should be reflected in asset prices.

In some respects, the market has certainly delivered a clear signal. Nvidia’s market capitalisation has soared past four trillion dollars as Microsoft, Google, Amazon, and other tech giants invest hundreds of billions annually in AI infrastructure. AI firms’ sky-high valuations suggest that investors expect enormous profits.

But who will ultimately benefit, and through what mechanism? Do markets believe that AI will broadly boost productivity, raising living standards across society, or will it generate large, concentrated profits without widespread growth?

Economic theory suggests that bond markets may hold the answers to these questions. If investors genuinely expect much higher future incomes from AI-driven productivity growth, they should save less today, driving up interest rates on long-term bonds.

Think of it this way. If one is confident that they will be wealthy in 30 years, they will be less inclined to save aggressively now, and demand higher compensation from long-term borrowers for giving up consumption today. Similarly, if AI raises the perceived probability of extreme scenarios, whether the end of humanity or a post-scarcity economy where all material needs are met, that should also push up long-term rates, because the value of future consumption relative to present consumption declines.

Either way, the implication is that bonds should offer a higher return to convince investors to forgo current consumption.

In recent research, we tested these predictions by examining US Treasury yields around major AI model releases in 2023 and 2024. Each time OpenAI, Google, Anthropic, xAI, or DeepSeek released a new flagship model, markets received concrete information about AI’s capabilities and the pace of progress. The results were striking. Rather than rising around the time of AI announcements, long-term bond yields (10-, 20-, and 30-year maturities) fell, typically by more than 10 basis points.

If investors were becoming more optimistic about AI-driven growth, that would not be what theory predicts. The declines persisted for weeks after the announcements, and similar patterns appeared in corporate bonds and inflation-protected government-issued securities (implying that inflation is not a key reason for the decline in long-maturity Treasury yields). These yield changes were quite large compared to changes around other news releases, such as those following Federal Reserve Open Market Committee meetings.

These data are a puzzle. Falling long-term yields suggest that investors are revising expectations downward, either by lowering anticipated consumption growth rates, reducing the perceived probability of extreme events, or both. Yet, that seems to contradict both the enthusiasm visible in tech valuations and the impressive capabilities recent models have demonstrated.

Although we can interpret these yield changes through standard economic models, any quantitative translation requires assumptions about investor risk preferences. Under conventional assumptions, our results suggest that the average model release led markets to reduce expected annual consumption growth by somewhere between 0.04 and 0.2 percentage points (depending on how risk-averse we assume investors are), or to lower the perceived annual probability of extreme transformation by 0.2 percentage points.

Importantly, we find little evidence that rising uncertainty about future consumption growth drives these patterns. Instead, the changes appear driven by investors’ growth expectations, rather than their uncertainty.

Could disappointing AI progress explain these results?

This seems unlikely. Using data from Metaculus, a platform where participants predict AI milestones, we found that forecasters generally updated toward faster progress around these releases, suggesting they were positively, rather than negatively, surprised by the degree of technical progress revealed by most updates.

This leaves us searching for explanations. Perhaps investors worry that AI will produce disruption and displacement without generating substantial growth. Alternatively, they might think AI’s benefits will flow primarily to tech companies and their shareholders while costs (job losses, downward wage pressure, and increased inequality) spread widely across the population, leading to lower aggregate consumption even as certain sectors prosper enormously.

Another possibility is that we are observing reactions to something else correlated with AI announcements. While we cannot rule that out entirely, any alternative explanation should produce large and persistent downward movements concentrated in long-maturity bond yields, coinciding specifically with these release dates, itself a pattern requiring explanation.

We think our findings cut through the speculation in a useful way. Financial markets do appear to take AI’s economic potential seriously, given the economically large and statistically significant reactions beyond tech-sector enthusiasm. But the signal from bond markets suggests investors are unconvinced that AI will generate sustained or widespread growth, or more extreme outcomes, even as equity markets highlight the profit potential for specific firms.

Markets appear to think the path from impressive AI capabilities to widespread prosperity is less straightforward than optimistic narratives suggest. Understanding whether investors’ caution reflects concerns about disruption, distribution, or other factors is crucial for designing appropriate policy responses. Speculation about what AI will mean for the economy will continue and perhaps intensify. As market participants place their bets, the resulting picture is more complex, and more concerning, than current headlines suggest.

Eurobond Negotiations Expose the Confidence Gap Facing Frontier Economies

Ethiopia’s Eurobond negotiations have stalled, and the setback illustrates how global lenders now demand tangible proof of reform rather than declarations of intent. Federal government officials responsible for these talks walked into them this year armed with encouraging headlines, including record exports of 8.3 billion dollars, an improving budget balance, and an IMF program promising tighter monetary policy.

Nonetheless, they are left facing a wall of scepticism from creditors who prize predictability over ambition. The rejected plan called for a 15pc to 18pc haircut on the country’s sole one billion dollars Eurobond maturing in late 2024, and a “Value Recovery Instrument” that might have compensated investors if growth outperformed. Bondholders baulked, not because the numbers were shocking, but because the path to repayment still looked hazy.

The pushback demonstrated how much frontier-market deals now depend on governance, data transparency, and execution speed. Investors accept that Ethiopia’s leaders intend to continue spending heavily on industrial corridors, agro-processing parks, and renewable energy. What they do not accept is fuzzy disclosure when foreign-exchange reserves are thin and routine debt reports arrive late. Markets operate on delivery, not declarations.

Any gap between local reform timelines and external expectations becomes a credibility trap, and Addis Abeba has fallen into it. Officials trying to retool a state-led growth model while maintaining political calm face the narrowest of confidence windows. History shows how quickly that window can slam shut.

Zambia spent three years arguing with creditors before sealing a restructuring in 2023 that imposed a roughly 35pc nominal haircut and lowered coupons on three billion dollars of Eurobonds. The sticking point was opacity around Chinese loans, not an inability to pay. Ghana enjoyed growth above five percent for years, yet a heavy domestic borrowing habit and weak tax collection triggered a 70pc cedi (Ghanaian currency) slide after its 2022 default.

Argentina’s 2020 deal on 65 billion dollars of bonds tells the same story. Grand promises mean little until they translate into consistent policy. Sri Lanka defaulted in 2022 with external debt above 50 billion dollars, undone less by economics than by political turmoil and patchy data. Each case was ultimately a drama of coordination, trust, and communication, not textbook insolvency.

Ethiopia’s balance sheet is healthier by comparison. Debt reached near 41pc of gross domestic product (GDP), well below Ghana’s pre-default 93pc or Zambia’s 120pc peak. The problem is composition. A rising share of non-concessional loans lifts repayment risk as domestic rates climb and the Birr, down almost half in five years, squeezes foreign-currency liabilities. Under the G-20’s Common Framework, Addis Abeba should treat private and official creditors comparably, yet the mechanism remains hobbled by voluntary data sharing.

The creditor mix, including Paris Club members, Gulf funds, and Chinese policy banks, complicates consensus, especially given the continued opacity of Chinese project loans. Until investors see the full debt picture, improved macro indicators will not move price screens.

The IMF-backed program tries to consolidate the budget, tighten liquidity and steer the exchange rate toward flexibility, policy measures most analysts applaud. Yet, enforcement is uneven. Bondholders remember that inflation once spiked past 30pc, that import rationing still impacts factories and that forex auctions often clear far above the official rate. They note that tax revenue lags targets even as planned capital spending stays high.

Policymakers defended the proposed haircut as equitable, citing the need to finance growth, create jobs and preserve social stability. Investors read it as a gamble that future prosperity would compensate present losses without a clear timetable. The Value Recovery Instrument, essentially a warrant tied to output, was meant as a sweetener, but frontier-market funds have grown wary of contingent claims that rely on projections.

The post-2008 era, when low yields pushed money into high-risk corners, is gone. With global policy rates at two-decade highs, capital now hunts certainty. Ethiopia should therefore sell not only a vision but the institutions that will deliver it. There are examples to follow.

Côte d’Ivoire, emerging from conflict a decade ago, compressed Eurobond yields by half from 12pc largely by hitting budget targets and releasing timely data. Egypt, after its 2016 IMF deal, attracted nearly 20 billion dollars in portfolio inflows over two years through predictable monetary policy and open investor calls. Neither country enjoyed concessional write-offs. Credibility was earned by showing work. Ethiopia can do the same by knitting its fiscal plan, industrial strategy and debt dashboard into a single narrative of measurable milestones.

Communication, then, becomes policy. Officials need to publish up-to-date debt figures, including project-linked liabilities, and lay out a quarterly reform schedule that discloses when subsidies shrink, the exchange rate band widens, and banks absorb shocks. They should also be clear about China’s role. Beijing-funded highways and power lines are crucial to Ethiopia’s industrial ambitions, yet that support now raises questions about seniority and repayment terms. Clarifying these details would relieve private holders who fear hidden senior claims.

The federal structure denotes fiscal tightening lands unevenly across regions, while the federal government should still invest in infrastructure to keep growth near the six percent target implied in its development plans. Striking that balance will be hard, but stalling on disclosure or delaying difficult spending choices risks a deeper penalty. A frozen bond market as concessional resources wane, while the federal government cannot fund an export-led transformation solely through multilateral loans forever. It needs market access on sustainable terms.

Policymakers may believe time is on their side because debt metrics appear moderate, yet each month of uncertainty raises risk premia. Ghana’s yields jumped above 30pc months before default, and Zambia’s traded near 20pc while talks dragged. Ethiopia’s bond already trades deep below par, signalling doubts that a deal will be struck before maturity. If the stalemate lingers, the country could face an even larger haircut later, eroding resources needed for those industrial parks and energy corridors.

A smaller upfront coupon cut, clearer fiscal benchmarks, and regular data releases could persuade bondholders to accept maturity extensions without steep principal losses. Parallel talks with official creditors should move in lockstep, ensuring that no single class is left worse off. Above all, the authorities should make credibility a policy deliverable, something as concrete as a power plant coming online or a revenue target met.

Development finance now operates under tougher global rules. Ambition impresses only when matched by demonstrable discipline. Governments that master the art of signalling, by linking reforms to trackable outcomes, can still attract capital, even amid tight monetary conditions. Those who do not risk seeing hard-earned macro gains disappear into a confidence gap.

Performative Ceasefires Undermine Prospects for Enduring Peace

In today’s conflicts, the announcement of a ceasefire is often celebrated as if it were peace itself. But these pauses in fighting – fragile, temporary, and often immediately violated – rarely resolve the disputes that caused the war in the first place.

From Gaza to Sudan to the Thai-Cambodian border, ceasefires have become the default endpoint of international diplomacy, rather than the first step in a sustained peace process. This is not only a symptom of our pessimistic political era. It should also be seen as a warning that the very idea of peace as a just and durable settlement is slipping out of the global imagination.

The Horn of Africa, one of the world’s most volatile regions, offers a revealing case study of this transformation, showing how principled and inclusive mediation has been displaced by transactional, interest-driven deals that manage conflict but do not resolve it.

In the 1990s and early 2000s, a wave of optimism followed the end of the Cold War. The United Nations (UN), regional bodies, and major powers pursued a ‘liberal peace’ model, seeking to end wars through democracy, inclusion, and the rule of law. African-led institutions such as the African Union (AU) and the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) embraced this approach, building mediation frameworks that treated peace as much more than the absence of violence.

The 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) in Sudan was emblematic of this era. Brokered by IGAD with AU and international backing, it combined security arrangements, power- and wealth-sharing, and democratic transition in a process that sought national ownership and international legitimacy. Though imperfect, it was rooted in the belief that peace required addressing political grievances, not merely silencing the guns.

Two decades later, that model seems a remote aspiration. Globally, the appetite for ambitious peacebuilding has waned. In their place, ceasefires have proliferated with short-term truces, humanitarian pauses, and ad hoc security understandings. But they are rarely linked to sustained political negotiations.

Under President Donald Trump, the United States has abandoned painstaking negotiation in favour of rapid bargaining, centring on a combination of commercial deals, strong-arming concessions, and a high-profile event at which the contending leaders shake hands and nominate Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize. This plutocratic and populist peacemaking did not spring from nowhere. Trump’s style accentuates an existing trend.

A recent example of a ceasefire elevated as an end in itself is the Gaza Agreement. The global outcry to stop the unfolding genocide was urgent and universal, demanding immediate action. Yet what emerged, shaped around  U.S. President Donald Trump’s twenty-point peace plan, proved telling: only the ceasefire provision was pursued with vigour. The rest—particularly the political roadmap and the promise of Palestinian self-determination—remained vague, lacking both substance and commitment. Once again, a truce became the measure of success, while justice and lasting peace were quietly postponed.

The transactional turn has been evident in the Horn of Africa for a decade. In 2018, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed (PhD) and Eritrea’s Isaias Afwerki made a pact that bypassed the UN, AU and Ethiopia’s own institutions. Presented to the world as a bold peace initiative, the deal ultimately led to other wars and triggered severe regional instability.

And the agreement that ended the fighting in Tigray Regional State in 2022 is a ‘Permanent Cessation of Hostilities’ and not a comprehensive political settlement, with vague commitments to human rights, democracy, or redressing the roots of the war.

Gulf and Middle Eastern states have since filled mediation roles once dominated by multilateral organisations. Backed by deep financial resources and security leverage, these actors favour elite bargains and security pacts over inclusive national dialogues. Their goals are to stabilise allies, secure strategic interests, and contain threats, not to transform the political relationships that drive conflict.

After the 2019 peaceful revolution in Sudan, negotiations to establish a new government were brokered by the U.S., Britain, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE, with the AU envoy providing a public face. Before long, the Arab states were clearly in the driving seat. When Sudan’s current war broke out in April 2023, talks convened by the U.S. and Saudi Arabia aspired only to a ceasefire. The AU and IGAD have been sidelined, and the UN has lowered its ambitions to pushing for humanitarian access.

We see similar patterns in South Sudan and Somalia, negotiations to scale back on the fighting without formulating lasting solutions. This is the ‘negative peace’ trap, silencing the guns but not listening to the voices of the people who demand more.

Most agreements to cease hostilities are neither written down nor permanent. More formalised ceasefires and humanitarian pauses are the most likely to be followed by renewed violence. Best practice for a ceasefire, as laid out for example in the handbooks for the UN’s mediation support unit, includes third-party monitoring, mechanisms for handling complaints, steps towards consolidating the end to violence, such as exchanging prisoners of war and hostages or withdrawing heavy weapons to designated zones, and building confidence for political talks.

Without this, and especially without a credible political process, a truce may be a breathing space for combatants to regroup, rearm, and reposition.

By definition, belligerents believe the worst of each other. Ending a war requires building trust. The mediator tries to do this by facilitating direct communication between the warring leaders and by establishing robust mechanisms for monitoring, verification, and enforcement. For as long as the two sides continue to distrust each other, they need to have confidence in a reliable third-party mechanism.

And if peace is to last, the causes of the war and the grievances that accumulated during the fighting must be addressed.

The United Nations’ New Agenda for Peace and the African Union’s Peace & Security Architecture were designed with these goals in mind, along with early action to prevent armed conflict from breaking out in the first place.

Ad hoc transactional peacemaking has discarded these hard-learned lessons and bypassed the mechanisms that made them work. To be clear, multilateral peacemaking was always imperfect. It seemed time-consuming and cumbersome, and large UN peacekeeping operations were expensive and often ineffective. But the alternative of fragmented mediation initiatives, floated by rival powers candidly pursuing their own particular interests, without the apparatus for monitoring and verification, has a far worse record.

Most worrying is that peace without democracy and human rights, which legitimises and rewards those who led the fighting, is not sustainable. Some leaders may wish to return to the era when princes could sign pacts to divide countries and decide the fate of the people who lived there, as though citizens were mere tenants who could be served an eviction order. We have seen this in the Horn of Africa, and it is a future that does not work.

The Horn of Africa might seem the toughest place to reverse the current trend towards fast, transactional and performative peace. It has complex conflicts that take deeper root with every cycle of violence, and outsiders who meddle for cynical gain. By the same token, there is an unparalleled experience in peacemaking in the region, with a generation of diplomats and peace organisations. We know what works and what does not. The international context may have changed, but the basic formula for peace endures.

At the heart of peace is legitimacy. Peacemaking repudiates the mantra that might is right. Every state in the Horn of Africa is a member of the African Union, and, upon joining the Union, it committed itself to democracy, human rights, and the inclusion of diverse groups within its state. Since the African continental organisation was founded 62 years ago, its raison d’être has been cooperation. Africa rises together or falls together.

And by working together, in accordance with the agreed principles, and by developing and applying a growing toolbox for conflict resolution, democratisation, and transitional justice, Africa has shown that it can end wars. Its mediators understand local political cultures. They can integrate their efforts with the UN, European Union, the Arab League, and others, reducing duplication and competition. They know that mechanisms such as national dialogue can move a post-conflict country towards democracy. When the African Union shows unity and resolve, it can make outside powers follow.

Today’s preference for ceasefires over settlements reflects a loss of confidence in real peace. Such despair has no historical basis. Even the most intractable conflicts can be transformed when inclusive, principled mediation is backed by political will.

The Horn of Africa stands at the front line of this struggle. Its fate will be a test not only of African multilateralism but of whether the world can remember that the end of war is not the absence of fighting but a collective effort to right wrongs and build more just and inclusive societies. What is needed is a restored moral ambition. Peace with justice should remain the goal, even in a world sceptical of grand settlements.

Rush Hour Without End in a City Without Resolve

The daily rhythm of Addis Abeba is set to the frustrated thrum of engines in standstill traffic. From the Italian-era façades of Piassa, through the crowded strips around Megenagna, to the expanding suburbs of Jemo, every commute is a slow contest against time. Rush hour starts before sunrise and lingers past dusk, trapping buses, cars and minibuses in a crawl that turns a short hop into an hourlong ordeal.

Residents endure the lost minutes because they have little choice. The city’s transport lifeline, a valiant but overburdened fleet of conventional buses and a lightrail line already stretched to capacity, no longer keeps pace with rapid growth.

The World Bank estimates that traffic congestion drains Ethiopia of billions of dollars a year in lost productivity and wasted fuel. Each minute carved from the average commute puts those resources back to work in offices, factories and marketplaces. Modern Bus Rapid Transit (BRT) buses, built to cleaner standards, can replace older and highemission minibuses, cutting particulate pollution and improving air quality across the basin ringed by the Entoto hills.

For a city already feeling the health costs of its growth, the cleanair bonus is more than a footnote.

The system promises relief. The centrepiece is the B2 corridor, an exclusive lane from Piassa to Jemo. However, it remains stuck in “planning purgatory,” stalled by indecision even as congestion deepens. Cities that once faced similar gridlock chose decisive action, and reaped quick returns.

Lagos, in Nigeria, long synonymous with the word “goslows,” rolled out its first BRT lane in 2008. The dedicated corridor stretching from Mile12 to CMS produced immediate results. Average commute times on the route fell by more than 30pc, and ridership quickly climbed above 200,000 passengers a day. The Lagos upgrade, known at launch as BRTLite and now branded BRTClassic, was hardly flawless, but it showed that disciplined and highcapacity transit could flourish even in one of the world’s most chaotic traffic environments. The line’s success unlocked fresh infrastructure funding and set the template for further expansion across the city.

DaresSalaam delivered comparable gains in 2016 when it opened the first phase of the DaresSalaamRapidTransit (DART). Physically separated from traffic and equipped with smart ticketing and modern stations, the line soon drew more than 200,000 daily riders. A journey that had dragged on for more than two hours shrank to 45minutes. DART did more than move buses. It imposed order on an unruly corridor, becoming the backbone of the city’s transport plan and a showcase for what disciplined design can accomplish.

Beyond Africa, two giants underline the point. Bogotá’s TransMilenio, often cited as the gold standard, uses passing lanes at stations, express services, and a tightly integrated network to shuttle more than two million passengers every day, numbers that rival those of a metro system at a fraction of the construction cost. Guangzhou’s BRT, built into the fabric of an already dense Chinese metropolis, meshes seamlessly with the city’s subway and bikesharing grids. It is among the highestcapacity bus corridors on the planet and a reminder that BRT is a durable pillar of urban mobility, beyond a temporary fix or a secondbest option.

In Addis Abeba, conventional buses average under 15Km/h during rush hour. A protected BRT lane would let vehicles cruise at 25Km to 30Km an hour, a 100pc to 150pc jump. Articulated coaches carrying more than 160 passengers could complete extra trips each shift, doubling capacity without new purchases. Frequency would become a promise, with buses running every three to five minutes, and feeder routes funnelling riders to welllit stations.

Today’s informal minibus market rewards drivers who sprint between stops, cut across lanes and crowd curbs in search of fares. A BRT replaces that chaos with a scheduled trunkandfeeder system. Operators are paid to keep the timetable, not to race competitors, and passengers receive a service they can plan their lives around. In Lagos and DaresSalaam, the change produced quieter roads, fewer accidents and a noticeable rise in public confidence, benefits that planners in Addis Abeba could replicate along the PiassatoJemo spine.

B2 is engineered to act as the central nervous system of the city’s broader transport map. At Piassa, it would link directly with the eastwest lightrail line; at MexicoSquare, it would cross the northsouth track and key bus routes. Riders could move from a neighbourhood feeder to the BRT trunk and onto the light rail using one smart card and one fare. The effect, familiar in Bogotá and Guangzhou, multiplies with each connection. The value of every segment rises, and the fractured pieces of Addis Abeba’s network begin to operate as a single organism.

Moving from blueprint to construction requires policy clarity. The federal government and the city administration need to brand B2 a flagship program, lifting it above routine bureaucracy. They should publish a public timeline, refreshed quarterly, detailing land acquisition, utility relocation, and civil works progress. Transparency would build the trust needed to push through the inevitable disruptions and, once the corridor is running, serve as persuasive evidence for the following BRT lines.

Addis Abeba should also learn from its own rail project. The lightrail system, though popular, struggles with power shortages, maintenance lapses and overcrowding. A careful study of those shortcomings, paired with lessons from DART and other robust BRT networks, could help tailor B2 to the city’s social and topographic realities. Officials and engineers know what should be done. Residents, growing impatient, want to see shovels in the ground. The question is no longer if but how soon.

The Global Majority’s Fight for Economic Justice

The world is experiencing a series of political, ecological, social, and economic ruptures. Astonishing levels of wealth concentration and inequality have eroded development gains, accelerated social fragmentation, and fueled civil unrest.

According to the Indicators of Global Climate Change report, we are only three years from breaching the 1.5° Celsius global warming limit set in the 2015 Paris climate agreement, increasing the risk of irreversible changes in planetary conditions.

These cascading crises are converging in the world economy. Insufficient climate finance from wealthy countries has led some developing countries to double down on fossil fuels. An unfair debt system traps low-income countries in a perpetual cycle of distress. Servicing short-term dollar-denominated loans with high interest rates prevents them from meeting development targets. Rich countries are also unwilling to cooperate on stopping illicit financial flows and taxing billionaires and multinational firms, further undermining low-income countries’ ability to raise revenue.

This economic instability is inextricably linked to global democratic decline. When wealth is concentrated in the hands of a few, political discontent is sure to follow, as evidenced by the surge of far-right parties in Western democracies.

Strengthening democracy is essential to tackling these crises. At the national level, citizens should be at the centre of decision-making about development policies and outcomes. At the international level, multilateral institutions and processes, including the G20, the United Nations Climate Change Conferences, and the Bretton Woods institutions, should be democratised to regain credibility and legitimacy. So far, they have been too slow in addressing their shortcomings and too focused on the developed world’s interests.

Examples abound of how multilateralism has reproduced inequalities.

Developed countries provide climate finance through guarantees for commercial loans, which increase debt burdens rather than build resilience. Time and again in Africa, ratings agencies and the International Monetary Fund’s (IMF) lending conditionalities prevent governments from investing in inclusive growth and development. The global consensus is to pursue a private-sector-led green transition, even though this approach intensifies precarity for those who contributed the least to global warming but are most vulnerable to its effects.

The decisions and actions taken in the interest of global capital have expanded the ranks of “surplus people.” These populations on the margins include workers made redundant by multiple and convergent socio-technical shifts, communities displaced by mine closures and climate shocks, and households pushed into poverty by soaring food and energy prices.

So, what can be done?

To answer this question, civil-society groups and NGOs from across the Global South will meet with Global North allies at the People’s Summit for Global Economic Justice on the sidelines of the upcoming G20 Leaders’ Summit in Johannesburg. In keeping with the meeting’s theme – “We, the 99pc” – the attendees will work together to map structural alternatives to the “societies of enmity” produced by capitalism. The goal is to develop a locally rooted yet globally connected program of action to achieve economic justice.

Chief among the proposed solutions to be deliberated at the People’s Summit is a wealth tax on ultra-rich individuals and companies under the auspices of the UN Framework Convention on International Tax Cooperation. Such a tax is technically feasible and politically necessary to address the interconnected financial, sovereign-debt, and sociopolitical crises destabilising advanced and developing economies alike.

Another important solution is scaling the availability, accessibility, and affordability of public climate finance, as provided for under the Paris Agreement. Given that advanced economies rely on developing countries for the commodities that fuel their industrial growth, financial and technological support should flow in the opposite direction to ensure development gains and to compensate for the extensive loss and damage caused by the escalating climate crisis.

Given that South Africa’s G20 presidency is focused on solidarity, equality, and sustainability, we are approaching these structural alternatives as an ethical project of repair that reflects our shared vulnerability and views the Earth as our common home. To mitigate economic injustice and the risks it poses to our democracies, we should coordinate our voices, resources, and networks to create a coherent political program that respects the planet’s boundaries and builds power from below.

But neither this political program nor the movements that will carry it forward can emerge on their own. They should be cultivated, coordinated, and provided with resources. Civil and social movements should go beyond the outdated architecture of the NGO era and start building scaffolding for resilience. That means investing in projects that advance people’s aspirations for just and inclusive growth and development.

When Regulation Fails, Consumers Carry the Burden

My daughter Gabriella and I recently received a lavish gift parcel: premium Ethiopian-made shampoos, body washes, moisturisers, and hair oils. The packaging gleamed. Branded as luxury homegrown, high-end, and it felt like a lavish treat.

But when I looked closer at the bottles in the gift set, I noticed bold remarks: “Ethiopian hair oil,” “Premium body moisturiser,” “Elite salon-quality shampoo.” The price tags confirmed the image and the promo line. Friends spoke of using the brand as a status symbol, a mark of sophistication and success.

Curious to learn more, I flipped the bottle to see the ingredients.

The ingredients list read like a chemistry riddle: parabens, formaldehyde-releasing preservatives, artificial dyes, synthetic fragrances, petroleum derivatives and the like. Time to do a quick research on these components. Some of these, I found, are not merely cosmetic additives; they’re known carcinogens and hormone disruptors.

I ended up tossing the entire set.

Many of the ingredients flagged as desirable for “luxurious skin and hair” are also labelled in scientific literature as health hazards.

Products marketed for both children and adults persist on including chemicals linked to hormone disruption, skin toxicity, and even cancer. And when regulation are not enforced to the fullest as it often is the case in developing markets it falls on us, the consumers, to educate and protect ourselves from these hazardous substances.

Parabens, Benzene, Formaldehyde-releasing preservatives. These aren’t exotic ingredients from a chemistry textbook; they’re in our homes, in our bathrooms, on our skins. They’re part of the beauty routines we trust to make us feel “clean,” “refreshed,” “beautiful.” Yet for years, researchers have warned that some of these chemicals interfere with hormones, impact reproductive health, and increase cancer risk.

Formaldehyde-releasing preservatives, ethylene oxide by-products, certain dyes, and petroleum-derived oils, many of which are used for texture, fragrance, or shelf life, carry potential carcinogenic or hormone-disrupting properties. They affect fertility, reproductive organs, and the overall endocrine balance.

Independent lab reports and scientific studies have found benzene, a known cancer-causing chemical, is evident in everyday products such as shampoos, sunscreens, deodorants, and even hand sanitisers. These weren’t counterfeit items from unregulated street vendors, these are products acquired from luxury and mainstream brands sold in leading stores.

If billion-dollar companies in tightly regulated markets struggle to keep toxins out of their products, what hope do smaller, local producers have, especially in countries like ours, where safety standards are vague and enforcement nearly nonexistent?

In Ethiopia and across Africa, entrepreneurs engaged in beauty products are on the rise. They’re harnessing indigenous botanicals; moringa, black seed, argan, baobab, shea butter to produce skincare and haircare lines that reflect local pride. It’s an inspiring movement prompting value addition, job creation, economic empowerment, and cultural confidence all raped in one.

But there’s a danger in this wave of “luxury branding.” A beautifully packaged product with an expensive price tag, a consumer endorsement, and sleek “Made in Ethiopia” branding can create a false sense of safety and superiority. Consumers assume “luxury” means “safe,” “tested,” or “pure.” Too often, that’s not the case.

True luxury isn’t just about how something looks or feels, it’s about trust, transparency, and integrity. It’s about knowing that what touches our skin won’t harm our body.

Yet, in reality, many so-called premium brands both local and global lack robust purification standards or third-party testing. Few disclose full ingredient sourcing or provide independent safety certifications. Even fewer conduct toxicological risk assessments.

In countries like Ethiopia, the beauty sector operates with limited oversight. Cosmetic products often enter the market without stringent testing or standardised ingredient disclosure. Imported formulations may contain internationally banned substances. Locally made brands, though full of promise, rarely certify their products.

Globally, the beauty industry has faced its reckoning. The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and European Union agencies have documented multiple recalls involving benzene and formaldehyde contamination. Big-name brands have been forced to pull “trusted” products off the shelves.

If these lapses happen under strict regulatory eyes, imagine the risk where regulation is barely imposed.

The uncomfortable truth: consumers in developing countries bear the heaviest burden. We become the last line of defense.

Women, on average, use more personal-care products daily—moisturisers, shampoos, conditioners, perfumes, lotions, serums, and cosmetics. Each layer adds to chemical exposure. Over time, this cumulative load can disrupt hormonal balance or stress on the body’s detox systems.

Independent tests on cosmetics found substances such as parabens, ethoxylates, and formaldehyde-releasers appear in a wide range of products. Continuous exposure even in trace amounts can build up and harm health. A few years ago, this hard truth led me to stop using cosmetics altogether.

Children are more vulnerable. Their skin is thinner and more permeable. Their organs are still developing. Their detoxification mechanisms are immature. So when a product is labeled as “gentle,” “organic,” or “luxury kids’ shampoo,” but hides endocrine-disrupting chemicals beneath the marketing gloss, the potential harm is magnified.

I celebrate the rise of Ethiopian entrepreneurship. The use of indigenous oils and botanicals should be a point of national pride. But this pride must come with responsibility.

If Ethiopian brands want to compete globally not just in branding but in integrity they must elevate their safety standards. That means transparent labeling, responsible formulation, independent lab testing, and adherence to international purity benchmarks.

Luxury is not a look. Luxury is a standard.

A truly premium Ethiopian product should be free from known carcinogens, hormone disruptors, and toxic additives. It should have full ingredient disclosure, including chemical origins and testing certifications. It should incorporate independent third-party verification to ensure what’s promised is what’s delivered.

Only then can we say “Made in Ethiopia” with pride for its augmentation of beauty but also safety, trust, and excellence.

The global beauty industry is waking up to the health implications of its products. Recalls and scandals have shaken even the biggest players. Clean beauty, once a niche trend, is now a movement toward reform, demanding transparency and safety over glitz.

Ethiopia has the chance to leapfrog this learning curve. We don’t need to repeat the mistakes of others. We can build our local skin and hair care industry with safety prioritised from start to finish and where luxury means integrity, not toxicity.

That requires collaboration. Policymakers must establish clear cosmetic regulations and enforceable ingredient bans. Manufacturers must invest in safer formulations and testing partnerships. Retailers must verify claims before marketing products as “premium” or “safe.” Consumers must stay informed, read labels, and demand accountability.

Luxury, in its truest form, is purity. It’s honesty. It’s the confidence that what you put on your skin is as wholesome as the story the brand tells.

Ethiopia can lead this revolution. We can build a new standard of conscious beauty where local botanicals meet world-class science, and where pride in our products is matched by proof of their safety.

Because real beauty doesn’t come from a fancy bottle or a glossy ad. It comes from caring for our health. Not status through price tags, but pride through safety. Only then can we truly say: made in Ethiopia, proudly safe for us and the world.

Communal Courtesy Breaks Down Communal Living

I was recently struck by a quote something along the lines of, “Common sense is like deodorant. The people who need it most rarely use it.” It’s a harsh truth, but one that perfectly captures the baffling reality of living in a shared space where basic consideration for others seems to be optional. The acts I observe on a daily basis are becoming more and more outrageous, frankly, in most instances I am lost for words.

I live in a residential compound where the litter includes used diapers, sanitary pads, and at times syringes, and razor blades. The sheer recklessness is astounding, yet the priorities of the compound’s committee are completely misplaced. Their energy is focused on superficial appearances, ensuring the compound looks “pretty” on the surface, while fundamentally ignoring cleanliness and the safety of the children who live here. For them, the parked cars take precedence over the children’s playground. I understand that residents need parkingand that it’s a necessity of modern lifebut why must it come at the expense of a safe playground for children to play?

It’s disturbing to see children being forced to play near the main gate, dangerously close to the flow of incoming and outgoing vehicles, simply because their designated space is too small for them and whatever ground is remaining is in between parked cars. It’s not a far stretch to conclude that some residents here aren’t just thoughtless, but genuinely reckless.

This general lack of accountability was brought into sharp, disgusting focus by a recent incident. We’ve all seen in movies: responsible dog owners carrying little bags or paper towels, ready to collect their pet’s waste. These are animals not trained to use a toilet, yet their caretakers accept full, immediate responsibility for the mess their pets make. It follows, then, that when a small child has an accident—an entirely logical and expected event,the parent who is present should immediately clean up after their child. If they aren’t present, it raises an even bigger question of child abandonment.

The incident I’m referring to happened on the ground floor of the building I live in, the main walkway everyone uses to get to the stairs. There it was: a pile of ” Excrement” right in the middle of the floor. We were all forced to navigate around it. My first thought was of stray dogs that sometimes wander and sleep in the compound were responsible, but no, the culprit was a neighbor’s one-and-a-half-year-old son. Of course, I don’t expect a toddler to clean up after himself, but it absolutely should have been the mother’s responsibility as the father wasn’t around. Yet, she didn’t care. I asked the neighbors downstairs about it, and they simply shrugged, confirming it was the child from the block across from ours. “Why doesn’t she clean it up then?” I asked, completely bewildered. People clean up after their dogs for goodness’s sake! It would be a different story if this mess was discreetly tucked away in the bushes or grass, but it was a blatant obstacle right in the middle of the pathway.I chose to believe that perhaps she wasn’t aware of what her son did.

In that moment, I wanted to march right over and knock on her door, but a familiar paralysis took over. I didn’t want to be the one to start an argument or be considered as difficult over basic hygiene. I ended up getting mad—not just at her for her inconsiderate act, but at myself for my inability to confront the issue head-on. I replayed the scenario over and over, blaming her for her nonchalant attitude and myself for my fear. Some people are just so deeply selfish or utterly unaware of the consequences their actions have on others.

The situation was made even more complicated by the fact that she’s generally a nice person. I had just been to her older son’s birthday party a few days after the incident a necessary social visit since our children play together. It felt like I was leading a double life. I don’t hate her, but at the same time, I desperately wanted to inject some common decency into her actions. It’s a complicated social knot, but for once, I wished I could simply ignore the fear of bruised feelings and do what was necessary, with the best intentions for the community. She probably would have cleaned it up had I or anyone else just pointed it out, but no one did. And there was no way I was going to take on the responsibility of cleaning up after her.

I have made it a habit to pick up sharp objects and broken glass that appear in the compound and put them away where children can’t reach them or in the area designated for trash, simply to ensure that children don’t get hurt, but cleaning up another person’s biological waste when the person is perfectly cable of cleaning it up themselves? That’s a line I do not cross. The immediate neighbors didn’t seem to be bothered by it either, and the mess dried up and stuck to the pavement.

The issues of discarded needles, neglected children’s playground, and uncleaned waste are not separate incidents; they are all symptoms of a single, deeply rooted problem: the erosion of shared responsibility. The committee’s focus on the aesthetics of the front of the compound is an act of denial. By ignoring the fundamental issuesthe sharp objects, the hygiene hazards, the parking-over-playground dilemmathey enable and validate the thoughtless behavior of the residents.

My own internal struggle,the wish to confront, balanced by the fear of causing a sceneperfectly illustrates the silent social contract breaking down. When confronting a neighbor over basic decency becomes an act of bravery rather than a normal civil interaction, the entire community has lost its way. The dried waste on the pavement, then, is more than just a stain; it is a monument to collective indifference, a visible sign that in this shared space, the comfort and convenience of the self-have definitively triumphed over the well-being and safety of the collective. Until that fundamental shift in individual accountability occurs, the compound will remain superficially pretty, but fundamentally broken.

“The shooting must stop.”

Kuma Demekssa, a former high-ranking official under the EPRDF government and one-time chief of Oromia Regional State as well as mayor of Addis Abeba, delivered a pointed message last week during a fireside chat with Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed (PhD) at Sof-Umar Cave in the Bale Zone. Kuma cited persistent insecurity and sour public sentiment as critical roadblocks stalling national growth and development.

2400000000

The revenue, in Birr, that the Addis Abeba City Administration plans to generate from clamping down on property owners allegedly using properties for purposes other than those approved in their initial permits. Nearly 3,000 owners have received new permits after being compelled to sign lease contracts that reflect the actual use of their properties.

New Trade Agreement Strengthens Global Market Path

Ethiopia has signed a market access agreement with Argentina, advancing its long-standing bid to join the World Trade Organization (WTO). Trade and Regional Integration Minister, Kasahun Gofe(PhD), described the deal as a significant milestone in the country’s efforts to integrate into the global trading system.

Argentina becomes the second country to finalize such an agreement with Ethiopia, following a previous deal with Turkey. Officials note that bilateral market access arrangements are essential for WTO accession and will create long-term opportunities for exports and imports.

Since its WTO membership application in 2003, Ethiopia has made gradual progress, previously hampered by structural and policy challenges. Today, a national technical team spanning 35 federal agencies is actively engaged in the process, coordinated by a WTO Committee under the Trade Ministry. Ahead of the latest session, Ethiopia also convened a local WTO Forum and held bilateral negotiations with 14 of the 18 member countries seeking market access.

Utility Pushes Rural Electrification, Digital Payments Forward

The Ethiopian Electricity Utility (EEU) connected 107,191 new customers in the third quarter of 2025, representing an 18.3pc increase compared with the same period last year. Of these, 95.5pc are postpaid customers while 4.5pc use prepaid services. Efforts to extend electricity to rural communities reached 14 new towns and villages, including 13 on the main grid and one off-grid village powered by solar energy. Infrastructure improvements included 957 km of reconstructed distribution lines, 2,151 km of expansion works, 493 upgraded transformers, and 850 new transformers installed, all planned to enhance supply reliability and quality. EES also strengthened internal governance, taking administrative or disciplinary measures against 20 employees, including eight written warnings, 10 salary fines, and two dismissals, to curb misconduct and corruption. The utility continues to advance digital payments, with 94.5pc of customers now using e-payment methods, reflecting ongoing efforts to modernise operations and streamline revenue collection.

New Shipping Route Links Gulf, Horn of Africa

DP World has launched a new shipping route linking Berbera Port in Somaliland with Jebel Ali Port in the UAE, promoting trade between the Gulf and East Africa.

Berbera features a 1,050-metre quay, including a 400-metre section for Triple E vessels, modern container terminals, and facilities handling over four million livestock heads annually. The Berbera Special Economic Zone attracts investment and supports long-term industrial growth.

Since last year, DP World’s operations have increased vessel productivity by 450pc, container volumes by 30pc, and general cargo throughput by 90pc. The port now handles 14+ vessels monthly with a 500,000 TEU annual capacity, set to expand to two million TEUs. Community initiatives, including training “Solar Mamas” as technicians, demonstrate the project’s social and economic impact.