Can the Conference on Financing for Development Succeed?

It is easy to be pessimistic about multilateralism nowadays. Recent international gatherings, including the 2023 Sustainable Development Goals Summit, the 2024 Summit of the Future, and multiple United Nations Climate Change Conferences, have yielded only unfulfilled promises.

At a time when US President Donald Trump is abandoning America’s international commitments, rejecting multilateral initiatives, and sowing chaos and confusion in global trade, can the Conference on Financing for Development (FfD4) at the end of this month go any better?

To be sure, the United States may well act as a spoiler in Seville, Spain, or disregard any agreements that are made. But that does not mean that the summit will be a bust. After all, America’s withdrawal from the 2015 Paris Climate Agreement during Trump’s first term, mere months after the deal entered into force, did not lead to its demise. While action has been limited, almost everyone recognises that without the agreement, climate change would likely occur even faster.

In April, the US withdrew from negotiations on decarbonising shipping at the UN’s International Maritime Organisation (IMO), warning that it would consider “reciprocal measures” if any new fees were charged to US ships for their fuel use. Yet, the IMO succeeded in getting 108 countries, accounting for 97pc of the world’s merchant shipping fleet by tonnage, to approve a new mandatory fuel standard for vessels and a global emissions pricing mechanism, with the revenues supporting, among other things, infrastructure development in developing economies.

It is possible for the world to make progress on shared challenges without the US. The lack of US involvement in the FfD4 might even prove advantageous, given its record of extracting compromises that favour its own multinational companies, and then refusing to sign or enforce deals anyway. The negotiations for the OECD Global Tax Deal, finalised in 2021, are a case in point.

But success will require other countries to fill the global leadership gap and demonstrate a credible commitment to the multilateral cooperation that is essential to our survival. Fortunately, the first draft of the FfD4’s outcome document recognises this imperative. It advances many valuable and practical policy proposals, including several from the final report of the International Commission of Experts on Financing for Development (of which I was a member).

A key focus of the document is enabling greater domestic resource mobilisation. An outdated international tax system and inadequate checks on illicit financial flows are a severe constraint on low- and middle-income countries’ budgets. Reforms in these areas would go a long way toward reducing income and asset inequalities, and increasing tax revenues, vital for financing investments in healthcare, education, and climate change mitigation and adaptation.

More broadly, participants at the Seville summit should seek to address the lack of a global financial safety net. A first step could be to initiate regular allocations of the International Monetary Fund’s (IMF) reserve asset, the Special Drawing Rights (SDRs). To enhance the intervention’s impact, the SDRs could be distributed according to need, a departure from the current approach, which allocates SDRs in proportion to IMF quotas, meaning that the largest shares go to the countries least in need.

The IMF could also introduce SDR swaps to meet the immediate liquidity needs of economies that do not benefit from the US Federal Reserve’s central-bank liquidity swaps.

But this is only the beginning. The world’s approach to tackling shared challenges, from climate change to public health and sustainable development, has plainly failed. International pledges and agreements have fallen far short, in terms of scale and quality. The “billions to trillions” vision, which sought to leverage public subsidies to unlock private finance for climate action, has not been realised. The suggestion that donors will close the development-financing gap through sheer goodwill is as unrealistic as it is patronising.

It is time to embrace an entirely new model of “global public investment,” with all countries contributing to the provision of shared public goods according to their means. This will require, for starters, fundamental reform of the IMF and the World Bank. Both institutions need to adopt a more countercyclical approach to lending. They should stop linking loans to oppressive conditionalities that favour the interests of global capital over the well-being of people and the planet.

In general, multilateral banks should substantially increase their lending to meet social, developmental, and climate needs, which in turn requires robust and reliable funding.

But there is a major barrier to such changes. Important decisions at the IMF and the World Bank require an 85pc voting majority, and with a 16pc share of those votes, the US effectively wields a veto. Without major governance reforms, these institutions will remain hamstrung, countries will increasingly find ways to bypass them, and they will fade into irrelevance.

International financial regulations should be strengthened, including by pursuing greater coordination of national laws, possibly on a regional basis at first. Private finance, which has enjoyed decades of lax regulation and positive incentives, should be required to align its behaviour with social and planetary goals, or face punishment.

These proposals are hardly radical; such measures have been implemented in past phases of global capitalism, and they are manifestly in the interest of all countries. Nonetheless, in the current geopolitical landscape, they may appear unrealistic. That is why “coalitions of the willing” should take the lead in setting ambitious goals, and doing what it takes to achieve them. The upcoming Conference on Financing for Development is a good place to start.

As Donor Dollars Dry Up Africa Confronts the Cost of Outsourced Development

In 2021, I was working on a DFID-funded program in Ethiopia when the cuts came. Overnight, a 21 million pound sterling program was slashed to a mere three million. Staff were laid off, projects cancelled, and promises to communities broken.

What stuck with me was beyond the chaos. It was how easily systems collapsed when external financing dried up. I came to realise that development is not charity. It is about politics and power, and it is a long-term issue.

For decades, governments and agencies across the development community have poured billions into aid across Africa. But after all that time and money, the results still fall short. Perhaps the real question now should be why it has not worked.

The focus here is on development aid, rather than emergency or humanitarian interventions, which play a vital role in crisis response.

Across the continent, aid-funded programs are closing. Clinics are out of service. Ministries that ran on donor budgets are now frozen. Many in the global development sector appear to be caught off guard.

But for some of us who have worked inside the system, the signs were always there. The structure was already fragile. Germany, once among the world’s most generous donors, has cut 5.3 billion dollars in aid since 2022. The United Kingdom (UK), following its 2020 merger of the Department for International Development (DfID) with the Foreign Office, reduced aid to 0.5pc of national income, triggering a 33pc cut to Africa programs by 2021.

Now that aid budgets are shrinking, the weaknesses are more visible.

From the beginning, I have always believed the model has been a contradiction. Countries are expected to take ownership of systems that someone else designs and pays for. Ministries are asked to be accountable to citizens while foreign grants fund their programs. Governments are measured on the “sustainability” of projects that cannot survive a single funding cut.

The result is systems that look functional on paper but collapse as soon as external financing stops. Projects that deliver services but do not establish the necessary institutions to sustain them. This is not only about poor implementation. The problem is with how the system was built. It is time the development community faces that truth.

Donors’ flags are visible on vehicles, schools, hospitals, buildings, and even water tanks. Some donors even request a portion of the budget to be allocated toward visibility, such as billboards, banners, and branded notebooks. The whole package may not be only for show. But it reflects who is shaping priorities.

In Malawi, even core government institutions reflect the dominance of donors, as “The Economist” put it, many health ministry offices are “labelled by donor, not department.”

Development agencies have not only financed programs; they have also implemented them. They have run them. They have written the strategies and the projects, hired the consultants, and led implementation. Then, when results fall short, they are also the ones writing the evaluation.

That has been the real problem. The development community has not simply supported development. It has tried to direct it. Local governments are left in the shadow of donor mandates.

Inside the system, what gets lost is a genuine reflection of what is working on the ground. And, in a system like this, honesty can feel risky, and disclosing the truth might cost you the next round of funding.

If the development community truly wants to support progress, maybe it is time to stop trying to do it directly. Instead, there is space to enable trade. To unlock investment. To help African innovation with access to markets, capital, and technology.

Trade barriers keep African products out of global markets, and value addition is often penalised through tariff escalation.

The European Union (EU), for example, allows countries like Ghana or Côte d’Ivoire to export raw cocoa beans duty-free, but imposes tariffs of up to seven to 15pc ad valorem duty on cocoa powder and chocolate crumbs containing cocoa butter. This discourages local manufacturing and keeps African economies stuck at the low end of global value chains.

Massive subsidies in Europe allow European farmers to sell food at artificially low prices, undercutting African farmers even in their own domestic markets. Investment in African startups remains limited, although models like the Timbuktoo Initiative, although still in its early stages, offer a glimpse of what is possible when global institutions act more like venture partners than traditional donors.

Regional infrastructure is still underfunded. The African Continental Free Trade Agreement (AfCFTA), the continent’s most ambitious trade project to date, requires technical, financial, and political support to succeed.

Addressing these issues would go a long way in opening new markets, building supply chains, and creating long-term opportunities for donor countries themselves. Such partnerships can still be win-win, sharing both risk and reward. Not the kind buried under fancy logframes and layers of donor conditions that hardly anyone reads or even understands.

Donor agencies can still play a role, but it is not the one they have been playing. Their job is not to implement. It should be to facilitate, connect, and get out of the way when governments do their job.

The G20 Compact with Africa presents a more effective model. It does not deliver aid directly or run programs. Instead, it supports African governments in strengthening investment frameworks, de-risking private capital, and attracting long-term financing. Yes, it still promotes reforms, but they are shaped through mutual agreement and in line with national priorities.

In Ghana, for example, the Compact backed legal reforms and infrastructure development without donors in the driver’s seat. Ethiopia’s prospectus, presented under the same platform, speaks in the language of opportunity, infrastructure, energy, and skills, rather than poverty or despair.

Development partners should focus on enabling regional coordination, bridging the gap between governments, and backing high-potential sectors. They should not be managing ministries through parallel “implementation units” that do not see themselves as working for the government but are accountable primarily to donors or tracking success by the number of technical assistance missions they have flown in.

Much of the development model has created an “outsourced state,” where core government functions are delivered through donor-funded projects. Progress is judged by compliance with externally set targets rather than outcomes that matter to citizens.

Let us be honest. The system is outdated and needs a new framework. One that creates a win-win for both donors and recipient countries. Development aid should not be seen as simply “helping” and both parties should recognise it as such.

This is where economists, researchers, and practitioners should step in, and now is the ideal time. They are not only there to critique what is broken, but to help design something better.

How to Build a Network Effortlessly

I once picked up a book that promised the secret to “getting things effortlessly.” I laughed, closed it, and went back to the grind. In those days, I believed the only honest path ran through sweat and late nights.

Years have sanded that certainty. Some of life’s best prizes arrive unforced, not because we labour hardest but because of who we become. That insight does not dismiss hard work; it sharpens it. And nowhere is the lesson clearer than in the anxious business of networking.

“Your network is your net worth,” echoes through conferences and panel discussions.

The line is catchy and mostly true. A strong circle can tilt careers and companies. Yet, the real work of connection is often misunderstood, and, more importantly, mispracticed.

Many treat networking like a scavenger hunt, hustling from event to event, collecting business cards and begging for introductions. They may land a freelance gig or a short-term deal, but enduring ties seldom sprout from one-way requests. To build lasting relationships, we have to bring something of value to the table.

Why should busy people invest their scarce time in us?

The question may sound transactional, but that is the point. People back perceived value, never pity. Pity demeans both sides. The first rule is blunt. Build value before building a contact list. Do not fire off vague invitations to “hang out” or “collaborate.” Be precise.

What, exactly, do we want to do? Why should they care?

Clarity slices through noise. Everyone owns some asset worth sharing. It could be a fresh perspective, a skill, a link to another market, raw energy, or a sharp insight. Pair that with a decent personality and already stand out in a crowded room.

Good networks, like good reputations, grow organically. We meet someone as a customer, vendor, regulator or seatmate at an industry forum. We solve problems together, perform reliably, and return calls. Over time, the association strengthens until the label “network” feels too mechanical for what is really trust. That is why ventures launched solely to “build a network” often fizzle. The smarter play is to become so competent and consistent that people reach out to us. Integrity, deep knowledge and high standards travel fast.

Luck does appear. Some stumble upon a mentor or backer who changes everything. Such stories sparkle at cocktail hours, but they are statistical outliers and rarely the biggest winners over the long run.

Everybody already owns a network; the real question is its quality. If ours feels thin, concentrate on adding value within the existing ecosystem and remain patient. Credibility compounds.

At every mixer, someone will assure us that networking is “everything.” The claim is oversold, but the impulse behind it is sound. Indeed, relationships matter. The mistake is confusing motion with progress. Collecting names is easy; earning respect is hard and slow, the product of repeated proof that we understand their priorities and honour their time.

In the end, the finest networks are rarely built for networking’s sake. They emerge as a natural dividend of excellent work.

Before Help Can Be Summoned

Over the weekend, a parent shared the story of a friend’s teenage son who died after unknowingly taking pills laced with fentanyl. “He wasn’t a problem child,” she recalled. “He had dreams. He had a future.” A single moment of curiosity, likely shaped by peer pressure, led to a tragic and irreversible mistake. Several of his friends who took the same pills survived, thanks only to swift intervention and access to naloxone, the overdose reversal medication.

In school corridors once defined by youthful energy and ambition, a quieter danger now lurks. Fentanyl, a synthetic opioid many times stronger than heroin, is slipping into the hands of young people with worrying ease. While its origins lie in clinical pain management, on the streets and in the shadows of everyday life, it has become something far more sinister.

Medical professionals emphasize fentanyl’s potency. It is estimated to be up to 50 times more powerful than heroin and 100 times stronger than morphine. Just two milligrams, an amount smaller than a sesame seed, can prove fatal. Still, fentanyl continues to appear in substances passed off as harmless: fake prescription pills, crushed powders, even sweets. Many young people may not know they are taking fentanyl at all.

Educators and healthcare workers have begun to notice the subtle signs: teenagers who appear unusually fatigued, whose energy has dimmed, whose grades falter with no obvious cause. Some teachers have encountered students carrying pills or powders tucked into gum wrappers or cosmetic containers. What’s most disquieting is not the visibility of these drugs, but their very invisibility. Fentanyl has no smell, leaves little trace, and does its damage quickly, sometimes before help can even be summoned.

Some parents are alert, but their vigilance often focuses on the wrong signals. Traditional signs, unusual smells, rolling papers, erratic behavior, don’t apply to fentanyl. The drug can appear innocuous, resembling candy or mere dust. A physician at an international hospital in Addis Abeba noted that many families mistake early symptoms for the effects of puberty, academic stress, or general fatigue, never imagining a lethal substance could be involved.

Compounding the danger, many young people may not realize what they are taking. A pill thought to be for anxiety or pain might, in fact, be laced with fentanyl, or consist of it entirely. Medical professionals continue to stress the risk with a simple, chilling phrase: one pill can kill.

Mental health professionals say today’s youth are navigating rising pressures: academic demands, social media anxieties, financial stresses at home, and the emotional fallout of uncertain futures. In such circumstances, pills that promise escape or relief can be dangerously appealing.

The digital age has made access easy. Encrypted apps facilitate transactions with the push of a button. Delivery happens in parks, at school gates, and sometimes directly between students. Some teachers report that drugs have made their way into classrooms via local pharmacies and corrupt networks. Investigative reports, including by the BBC, suggest some of these substances may originate far from Africa, slipping past weak enforcement mechanisms and into local circulation.

The crisis extends beyond individual choices. Structural failures in regulation, health education, and emotional support contribute to the drug’s reach. In schools, the burden increasingly falls on teachers, who now straddle the line between educators and informal caregivers. One instructor at a private school described watching students withdraw in real time: once engaged pupils turning distant, distracted, and numb.

Responses remain scattered and insufficient. Arrests alone will not stemmed supply. In many communities, awareness of fentanyl’s lethality is still limited, not only among adolescents but also among parents, teachers, and frontline healthcare workers.

Solutions will require more than punitive action. Mental health support must be embedded in schools, religious institutions, and community centers, places where trust and familiarity already exist. Early, honest education about synthetic drugs, delivered through peer-led programs and survivor testimonies, can offer a more realistic form of prevention than outdated “Just Say No” slogans or abstract warnings.

At the policy level, stronger oversight is urgently needed over pharmaceutical imports and local supply chains. Legal accountability for distributors complicit in trafficking must be enforced. But at the core of any effective response is compassion. Behind many addictions lies unresolved emotional pain, isolation, or trauma. Addressing these wounds can offer a path forward not only for individuals but for families and communities.

The tragedy of a young life cut short underscores the human cost of inaction. It is a loss that ripples outward: through classrooms, households, and entire generations. Caution alone cannot stem an impending crisis; but empathy, awareness, and collective responsibility just might.

The Curious Case of Barking Dogs

On multiple occasions, I have found myself watching the garbage collectors on their morning route, a subtle unease settling in. There is a somber reality to their work, a reminder that in a world of vast opportunity, some find their roles confined to clearing away what others discard. It is the kind of observation that opens a corridor of reflection on the infrastructures that quietly shape daily life: the destinations of waste, the hidden labour behind sanitation, and the silent burdens borne by those who manage society’s refuse.

Amid such contemplation, an odd yet telling detail stands out. The neighborhood dogs, vocal and insistent, seem to have formed strong opinions about these workers.

Modern life runs on the rails of convenience. Items are consumed, discarded, and forgotten with the ease of a flicked switch. Yet behind that ease lies a chain of human effort, rarely seen and less frequently acknowledged. The question of where waste goes after being cast aside leads inevitably to those who shoulder its burden.

Sanitation workers, often noticed only in passing and announced by the hum of machinery at dawn, endure conditions that many would find intolerable. There is the stench that clings to their uniforms, the strain of lifting overflowing bins, and the dispiriting task of sorting through others’ carelessness. The toll, physical and psychological, is significant. Research consistently points to elevated health risks in this line of work, worsened by social stigma that renders their labor invisible even as it undergirds everyday life.

This aversion to engaging with waste continues in subtler ways. The journey of what disappears down the toilet, for instance, remains largely unexplored in public consciousness. Even beneficial innovations like wastewater treatment or biogas energy generation evoke discomfort. Such reactions stem not from science, but from a deep-seated reluctance to confront the less polished parts of human existence. Waste. literal and symbolic, is meant to be removed, not reflected upon.

And yet, in the midst of this reflection, another small phenomenon arises; the barking of dogs. It may seem trivial, even amusing, but it hints at something more. Certain individuals, often those in uniforms or covered in the markers of manual labor, receive disproportionate attention from neighborhood pets. Mechanics, delivery personnel, sanitation workers, these figures often elicit a full-throated canine response, while a sharply dressed passerby might be ignored altogether.

This is not a simple case of canine discrimination, but rather a complex interplay of a dog’s highly attuned senses and their deep-seated instincts.

Dogs observe the world with an intensity unfamiliar to human perception. Their world is a rich tapestry of scents, sounds, and subtle visual cues that often go unnoticed by our comparatively dull senses. Their reactions stem from an intricate web of visual cues, scents, and daily routines. A garbage collector who appears regularly but never enters the home disrupts the ordinary, triggering territorial instincts. Uniforms, too, become signifiers of the unfamiliar, a coded alert for the hyper-vigilant senses of a dog.

Smell plays an even greater role. Sanitation workers carry with them traces from dozens, even hundreds, of locations. To a dog, this invisible trail transforms the worker into an intrusion, a walking collection of foreign signals. It is not judgment, only instinct.

And beneath it all lies the emotional radar of dogs, finely tuned to the states of those around them. A person anxious around dogs may move stiffly or emit stress through body language and scent. That, in turn, heightens a dog’s alertness, sparking a loop of mutual suspicion. Calm, grounded presence often disarms this cycle, met not with barks but with curiosity or even friendliness.

In the orchestration of these morning moments, the arrival of the waste truck, the ripple of canine reaction, the retreat into routine, there’s a window into the systems that order the world and the instincts that respond to them. Beneath the noise, a deeper story unfolds: one of invisible labor, unspoken hierarchies, and the strange wisdom of animals. It is in such ordinary scenes that a society reveals itself, offering, to those willing to observe, a quiet education in empathy and attention.

Fresh Push to Help Farmers Get Covered & Cash In

The Ministry of Agriculture has established the Rural Finance Service Unit (RFSU) to coordinate and expand agricultural insurance nationwide. Announced on Tuesday at the 2025 UNDP Financial Resilience in Agriculture Community of Practice forum (held at the UN Economic Commission for Africa headquarters), the RFSU is supported by UNDP, JICA, and other partners with funding from the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. Agriculture Minister Girma Amente (PhD) and State Minister Sofia Kassa attended the launch.

The RFSU is hoped to adress critical gaps in Ethiopia’s agricultural finance and insurance sector. Despite agriculture contributing 32pc of GDP it receives minimal financial support. Agricultural credit accounts for less than 10pc of total lending, with banks reluctant to engage and microfinance institutions shifting focus to urban areas, Getachew Mekone, unit head stated.

Current credit provision falls drastically short of demand. In 2023/24, only 8pc of total bank loans (over one trillion Birr) went to agriculture, Microfinance institutions supplied 18pc of the sector’s credit. Overall, disbursed credit met just 2pc of the estimated annual demand of 2.58 trillion Birr. The government aims to increase annual agricultural lending to 881 billion Br by 2030.

According to Getachew limited credit access forces farmers to rely on low-input farming, reducing output. Similarly, agricultural insurance, vital for managing climate risks like floods, remains underdeveloped. Past insurance pilots by donors and private actors over two decades have failed to scale up, leaving farmers vulnerable to harvest losses and poverty.

The RFSU will consolidate these disparate insurance initiatives and strengthen government involvement in market access, risk management tools, and institutional support.

Mission 300 Gains Momentum as Ethiopia Charts Path to Energy Equity

The Government has developed a National Energy Compact with the goal of achieving universal electricity access by 2030. The strategy, led by the Ministry of Water & Energy (MoWE), outlines Ethiopia’s commitment to reaching 100pc energy access for its population within the next five years.

According to State Minister for Energy Development Sector Sultan Woli, the compact was prepared in collaboration with key development partners, including the World Bank Group and the African Development Bank (AfDB), as part of the broader regional initiative known as Mission 300. Mission 300 is a program launched by the World Bank Group and the AfDB in April 2024. It aims to connect 300 million people across Sub-Saharan Africa to electricity by 2030.

The initiative responds to a critical energy access gap on the continent, where nearly 600 million people currently live without electricity, representing about 83pc of the global unelectrified population.

MoWE recently organized a consultative meeting to review and discuss the draft of the Energy Compact. The discussion included a technical team consisting of representatives from the Ministry of Finance, Ethiopian Electric Power, Ethiopian Electric Utility, and the Oil & Energy Authority.

During the session, Gosaye Mengiste, energy sector advisor at MoWE, presented the draft compact. He explained that the strategy is built around five strategic focus areas, such as universal access to electricity and clean cooking solutions, expansion of clean energy infrastructure and transition to renewable energy, regional power connectivity, financial sustainability and operational efficiency, and private sector participation and institutional strengthening.

OUT DOORS

Old gates that once guarded home entrances are now lined up for resale in a neighbourhood around Bulgaria, removed due to relocation, rust, or renovations. Painted in various colours and shapes, they lean in the shade, awaiting a new purpose. Nearby, a toppled light post, damaged at its base but with cables intact, lies waiting for repair or replacement. In areas yet to benefit from corridor development and still retaining their original character, broken light posts, old gates, and poor infrastructure remain common features.

MOVING WALLS

The well-kept and recently opened compound of the Ethiopian Broadcasting Corporation near Shegole features graffiti with various shapes, figures, and flowing patterns, a security guard leaning back behind a big flower pot and against the waves on the wall that seem to lead somewhere. Founded in 1964, the Ethiopian Broadcasting Corporation now rebranded as ETV is a government-owned public service broadcaster.

TECH TALK

Young innovators took centre stage at the Sheraton Addis last week, captivating an audience that included Prof. Kindeya Gebrehiwot, former president of Mekelle University, and Innovation & Technology Minister Belete Molla. The event, organised through a partnership between Reach for Change and the Mastercard Foundation, showcased fresh ideas and bold thinking from Ethiopia’s emerging tech talent. With prototypes, pitches, and spirited explanations, the gathering celebrated the imagination and drive of a generation reshaping the future through technology.