We chase economic growth like a universal cure, yet this pursuit leaves a trail of contradictions: joy alongside sorrow, hope mixed with despair.
If development lifts nations, why do so many feel left behind? The West set the template long ago Harry Truman’s 1949 vow to share technical know-how birthed a model equating advancement with production, science, and Westernization. But look closer. Do gleaming skyscrapers signal success if families fracture, stress soars, and inequality widens?
The United Nations’ grand promises “Health for all by 2000” proved hollow. Diseases persist, crime festers, and wars rage, often blessed by faith leaders who once championed peace. Religion’s role is particularly thorny. Max Weber credited the Protestant work ethic for driving capitalism’s rise, yet that same zeal fueled colonialism, slavery, and today’s consumerist burnout. When missionaries blessed oppression or clerics endorsed crusades, was that development or devolution?
Economics itself rests on shaky ground. Lionel Robbins defined it as managing “scarce means” for limitless wants. But scarcity is often manufactured—OPEC slashing oil output to spike prices, farmers paid not to grow food. Greed, not shortage, starves millions. We’ve complicated a simple truth: Earth provides abundantly if shared fairly. Yet competition, enshrined as economic virtue, exhausts people and planet alike.
True progress demands moral scaffolding. An economy boasting high GDP while drowning in crime, depression, and divorce is no success. Ghana’s mining reforms, putting chiefs at the heart of license decisions, hint at alternatives local wisdom over distant decrees. Maybe development isn’t a race to outproduce, but a pact to uplift together. Until then, we’re building on sand.
