The term “Global South” gained popularity in the 1990s as a neutral alternative to “Third World,” which had become outdated and derogatory. Paired with the terms “Global North,” these labels were intended to describe economic divides: the “North” referring to wealthier, industrialized nations such as the U.S., Canada, Europe, and parts of East Asia, and the “South” to poorer nations in Africa, Latin America, and Asia. While intended to highlight disparities, these terms are deeply problematic. They are geographically inaccurate, homogenize diverse regions, and perpetuate colonial legacies that shape our understanding of global power and inequality.

Western art reveals how colonial narratives were constructed. John Vanderlyn’s The Landing of Columbus (1842), displayed in the U.S. Capitol, depicts Columbus as a heroic conqueror, masking the violence of colonization. Benjamin West’s The Treaty of Penn with the Indians (1771–72) idealizes harmony between settlers and Indigenous people while concealing dispossession. By contrast, J.M.W. Turner’s The Slave Ship (1840) confronts colonial brutality by depicting enslaved people thrown into stormy seas. Just as these works shaped historical perceptions, terms like “Global North” and “Global South” continue to shape modern narratives, reinforcing hierarchies that echo colonial exploitation. Moving beyond these legacies requires evolving our language.

The term “Global South” was coined in 1969 by activist Carl Oglesby and gained traction in the 1970s in debates about development and inequality. It was popularized by the 1980 Brandt Report, which introduced the “Brandt Line,” an imaginary divide separating wealthy northern nations from poorer southern ones. Since then, these terms have become standard in academia, politics, and international institutions. Leaders from the United Nations, the World Bank, and the G7 routinely utilize them, and reports such as UNCTAD’s “Forging a Path Beyond Borders: The Global South” (2018) reinforce their legitimacy. Yet despite popularity, these labels oversimplify, distort, and entrench harmful assumptions.

The most obvious flaw is geographic. Not all wealthy nations are in the North, and not all poorer nations are in the South. Australia and New Zealand are prosperous yet in the Southern Hemisphere. Conversely, India, Mexico, and much of Eastern Europe—often categorized as “South”—are in the Northern Hemisphere. Even the concept of north and south is arbitrary: from space, the Earth has no top or bottom; maps merely impose orientation. Equating geography with prosperity is misleading. Social scientist Dimiter Toshkov calls this “wrong and demotivational,” while economists Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson argue in their book Why Nations Fail (2012) that institutions, rather than geography, determine prosperity. Countries with inclusive institutions flourish regardless of latitude.

These terms also flatten vast differences, treating countries with divergent histories and economies as a single bloc. Comfort Ero of the International Crisis Group warns that this risks “simplifying or ignoring countries’ individual concerns.” Brazil and Indonesia share little in common with Sierra Leone or Timor-Leste, yet they are all grouped under the term “Global South.” The labels carry political baggage, framing global issues as a binary struggle between two camps. This erases nuance and reinforces stereotypes of dependency, where “South” nations are seen as problems needing solutions from the “North.”

Colonial legacies underpin this framing. Many countries labeled as part of the “Global South” were colonized by European powers. Using the label risks sustaining a hierarchy in which formerly colonized nations remain cast as inferior. It implies that progress requires following the “North’s” model, despite industrialized nations causing many of today’s crises, particularly climate change. The 2022 IPCC report recognized colonialism as both a historical and ongoing driver of the climate crisis. Western exploitation of resources and people set the stage for today’s ecological emergencies. Scholar Hadeel Assali highlights how extractive practices rooted in colonial mindsets prioritize limitless resource use, often with devastating consequences for local communities and ecosystems. Indigenous societies, frequently marginalized within both “North” and “South,” have long demonstrated sustainable stewardship. Steve Nitah, lead negotiator for the Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation in establishing the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area, emphasizes how Indigenous governance sustains biodiversity and demonstrates reciprocal relationships with the land—insights critical for addressing climate and ecological challenges.

Global governance structures mirror these colonial dynamics. Wealthy nations dominate institutions such as the IMF, World Bank, and WTO. Voting power is tied to financial contributions, granting the U.S. and Europe outsized influence, while Africa, with 18 percent of the world’s population, holds just 6.5 percent of IMF votes. Loan conditions often impose austerity, prioritizing the interests of creditors. The United Nations, especially the Security Council with its five permanent members, similarly reflects imbalances. Clubs like the G7 and OECD privilege wealthy nations while marginalizing the voices of poorer countries. Policies thus frequently reflect the interests of the powerful, perpetuating global inequality.

The “Global South” label also reduces complex economies to a simplistic “poor” category, overlooking diversity and dynamism. While Bangladesh and Ethiopia face significant poverty, they experience lower rates of obesity and certain lifestyle-related health conditions than the United States, highlighting that economic wealth does not always correlate with better health outcomes. Meanwhile, Chile and Argentina are highly developed despite being located in the “South.” Toshkov argues that the North–South divide is “no better than the alternatives it replaced,” such as the “Third World,” suggesting that geography dictates development when evidence contradicts this notion.

Related terms, such as “developed” and “developing,” are equally flawed. Plan International’s Kerri Whelan observes that there are no clear benchmarks defining “developing,” and the hierarchy implies nations must follow Western models. Even the wealthiest countries lag in areas such as healthcare and environmental sustainability. Terms like “emerging markets” assume GDP growth defines success—a fixation that has fueled ecological destruction. Economists Paul Hawken, Amory Lovins, and Hunter Lovins argue in Natural Capitalism (2000) that capitalism undervalues natural and human capital, treating ecosystems as disposable inputs. In reality, ecosystem services—such as clean air, water, and climate regulation—are invaluable yet often excluded from economic metrics.

While no single replacement for “Global South” exists, more precise language is possible. Instead of vague categories, we should describe countries based on specific qualities, such as “low-income,” “resource-rich,” “former colonial powers,” or “countries with high biodiversity.” Toshkov advises, “Be specific about what the term is referring to. If you mean the 20 poorest countries, say that. If you mean technologically less advanced countries, say that. It takes a few more words, but it is more accurate and less misleading.” Decolonizing our worldview requires decolonizing our language. Tim Winton, in his 2017 book Island Home, reflects that fostering liberation and social renewal requires building new alliances, embracing creativity, and cultivating deeper empathy across communities—a mindset that extends to how we describe nations and their people.

The terms “Global North” and “Global South” were intended to capture inequality but obscure it. They are geographically inaccurate, flatten cultural and political diversity, and echo colonial legacies of domination and dependency. Worse, they simplify global power structures into binaries that sustain the very hierarchies they were meant to critique. Creating a just and sustainable future demands abandoning these terms and adopting language that acknowledges complexity without perpetuating stereotypes. The world cannot be divided neatly into two halves; it is time for our words to reflect that truth.

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