In the 1970s, something broke. After twenty years of grand promises, five-year plans, aid, and blind faith in growth, reality began to take its toll. And it was a steep one. Development, as we had imagined it until then, entered a profound crisis. It was no longer just a problem of disappointing results. It was the paradigm itself that was beginning to crumble.
The great break of the seventies
Everything accelerated with the oil shocks. Crude oil prices skyrocketed. Poor countries that didn't produce oil suddenly found themselves squeezed between higher energy costs and more expensive raw materials. Growth slowed, inflation soared, and debt began to balloon.
Many countries that had faithfully followed the pioneers' recipes—forced industrialization, shifting resources away from agriculture—found themselves with unbalanced economies, weakened agriculture, and growing dependence on foreign countries.
In the 1970s, international banks had lent money with great ease (the petrodollars had to be placed somewhere). When interest rates rose sharply, many countries found themselves unable to repay. Thus began the Third World debt crisis.
The paradox was stark: the instruments designed to help (loans and aid) ended up worsening dependence. Countries were forced to accept structural adjustment plans imposed by the IMF and the World Bank, often with dramatic social consequences.
The end of the “Third World” as a category
In those years, another truth became evident: the "Third World" was not a homogeneous bloc. Alongside countries that remained on the margins, emerging countries began to grow vigorously (first the Asian "tigers," then the BRICs). The very category of "developing countries" began to show all its limitations.
Faced with the failure of growth as a single objective, a new approach was born: basic needs . Instead of chasing macroeconomic indicators, people began to ask: Do people have food to eat? Do they have access to basic healthcare and education? Do they have clean drinking water?
It was a radical shift in perspective: from development as aggregate growth to development as a concrete improvement in the living conditions of the poorest.
Self-reliance: doing it yourself
Another idea gained traction: self-reliance . Instead of relying on external aid and technology, local resources, traditional knowledge, grassroots development, and community participation needed to be leveraged.
It was a strong political message: development cannot be imposed from above or from outside. It must be built within, with one's own strength.
Then came the environment. The Limits to Growth report (1972) and especially the Brundtland Report (1987) imposed a new concept: sustainable development . Economic growth that does not compromise resources for future generations.
Within a few years, it became the new global buzzword. Everyone used it. Few actually applied it.
From below: NGOs, microcredit, fair trade
At the same time, the world of non-governmental organizations, microcredit (Yunus and Grameen Bank), and fair trade exploded. Efforts were made to bypass the large state and international apparatuses to act directly on communities. These were smaller, more targeted, and often more humane approaches. But they were also more fragmented.
Finally, an even deeper current emerged: post-development and degrowth . For these thinkers, development itself was the problem. A Western, colonialist concept that had promised paradise and delivered inequality, environmental destruction, and alienation.
We needed to go "beyond" development: rethink the economy, reduce the centrality of growth, imagine other ways of living well.
Today's contradiction
And so we arrive at the current paradox. On the one hand, there are increasingly radical critiques of the very concept of development. On the other, dominant policies—those of major international institutions, governments, and markets—continue to revolve around economic growth as the primary objective.
Grow more or live better? The question remains open. And painfully timely.
The 1970s and subsequent years taught us that there is no single paradigm. Development has lost the innocence and certainty it possessed in the 1950s. Today, diverse, often contradictory approaches coexist: from sustainability to degrowth, from microcredit to large-scale infrastructure projects.
Maybe that's a good thing. Because it means we've stopped believing in magical solutions. And we've begun to understand that development—or whatever we want to call the desire for a more dignified life—is too complex to be contained in a single formula. The story isn't over. It's just become more honest.
