No Brighter Day: Revisiting Ethiopia on 'We Are the World'’s 40th Anniversary

2025 marks the 40th anniversary of the most iconic international charity single, We Are the World. Co-written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie and performed by 46 American music stars, the song sold over 20 million physical copies and raised more than US$63 million for famine relief in Ethiopia between 1983 and 1985.

I was reminded of this milestone in entertainment history while I was backpacking through Africa—and Ethiopia was my starting point. A friend of mine who works with Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF or Doctors Without Borders) and was also there for a work trip brought it up. She sighed, “It’s been 40 years, and now the U.S. has completely slashed foreign aid, leaving starving bodies everywhere.”

When she mentioned We Are the World, we were sitting together in a modest breakfast shop in Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia. Outside, a muddy, potholed road stretched eastward towards the chaotic, overcrowded Shola Market and westward towards the embassy district. The latter was dotted with various NGO offices. Children in tattered clothes occasionally approached us—not to beg, but simply out of curiosity, trailing behind quietly. My friend had just returned from a project site in Gambela, a place on the country’s western edge. She told me, “It was the same with the South Sudanese refugee kids there. They crowded around me—not for money, not for candy—but hoping I’d take their picture. But our fieldwork had a policy: we needed the subject’s signed consent for every photo we took.If it was a child, their parent’s written approval was required. One day, I photographed a girl thinking she was an adult. When we sought her consent, it turned out she was only 15, so we couldn’t use the photo.”

Two days later, both of us flew to Ethiopia’s eastern Afar region. She was heading to support a hospital project focused on malnutrition. The project was managed by MSF Belgium. I, on the other hand, joined a tour group bound for the Danakil Depression in the north. This vast, 137,000-square-kilometer basin—with its dazzling salt flats and active volcanoes—sits about 100 meters below sea level and is the hottest place on Earth in terms of year-round average temperature. On early June afternoons, the temperature often exceeds 45°C. Even in such heat, you’ll occasionally see barefoot children dancing on the scorching dirt roads as cars slowly pass by. Our guide rolled down the window and tossed out a few half-finished one-liter bottles of mineral water. Compared to cash—which they can hardly spend—cool, clean water might be the most practical form of aid. Then again, these children, born and raised in such an environment, are far more resilient to thirst and heat than we are. Even after long hours of begging, they can still walk several kilometers back home—homes made of dry grass, perched on volcanic rock.

“Never come to Africa with a savior complex,” experienced travelers I met along the way often advised. When we reached our first campsite in Dallol, where we were to sleep on the ground under the open sky, a barefoot, completely naked boy quietly followed me. “Hello, hello, hello,” he repeatedly greeted me in a soft voice. I felt I had to give him something. After some hesitation, I pulled out a postcard from my bag—one with an illustration of a long-haired girl. I’d picked it up for free just days ago at a contemporary art gallery during a layover in Doha. No money, no candy, not even water—just a postcard. Was that appropriate? But the boy took it and looked at it attentively, before walking away with it quietly, clearly content. A new friend I’d made on the tour reassured me: “Maybe that was the best gift of all. Who knows, maybe he’ll go home, trace the drawing in the sand with a stick, and one day become a desert artist.”

I was never meant to be a saint. Handing over that postcard was just a spontaneous gesture, nothing close to the kind of moral weight carried by the line “There’s a choice we’re making” in We Are the World. When the song was officially released in 1985, it quickly spread thanks to its catchy, sing-along melody. But that very lyric also drew criticism. One journalist pointed out that the line, which was repeated several times throughout the song, sounded suspiciously similar to Pepsi’s iconic slogan, “The Choice of a New Generation.” Given that both Jackson and Richie were celebrity endorsers of Pepsi at the time, it was hard to believe this was just a coincidence. The 40-odd superstar singers might have thought they were lending their voices to famine relief in Ethiopia, but they were also—knowingly or not—providing free advertising for Pepsi.

I also believe that the children in the Afar desert—those who’ve trained themselves to be thirst-resistant like camels just to survive the heat—probably have no idea that a league of ultra-wealthy international pop stars once sang for them 40 years ago. And of course, those of us who’ve grown up and seen the bleak truths of the world, now know that the line “We’re saving our own lives” was more about soothing the stars’ own sense of compassion. Living in their Beverly Hills mansions, shedding tears over televised images of famine, they’d never truly cross paths with the people suffering on the ground in Ethiopia.

That said, the contribution of these superstars shouldn’t be dismissed. After all, the song did manage to raise a substantial amount of funds, which was responsibly handed over to organizations working directly in Ethiopia. The funds helped provide food and clean water, essential medical aid including vaccines, logistical support via trucks and helicopters, and even local training in agriculture and water sourcing. More importantly, We Are the World marked the first time mainstream Western society directed massive attention toward a humanitarian disaster in Africa.

A few days later, I climbed from the Afar Depression up to the highlands of Tigray. In every town I passed through or paused in, there were still countless children begging along the roadside.

I looked up the World Food Programme’s official website. As of 2025, approximately 10.2 million people in Ethiopia—including over three million internally displaced persons—are suffering from severe food insecurity. Around 55% of children under the age of five are malnourished. The Tigray region is classified as experiencing “extreme food insecurity.” From 2020 to 2022, the Tigray civil war spilled over into neighboring areas, resulting in an estimated 150,000 to 200,000 famine-related deaths across northern Ethiopia. Compared to the catastrophic famine of 1983–1985, this more recent crisis has seen a lower mortality rate thanks to a more developed international aid system, although it affected a larger population.

Still, no matter the scale of the crisis, a song like We Are the World will likely never be born again. After all, when compared to topics like the Israel–Palestine conflict, the war in Ukraine, Trump’s policies, or LGBTQ+ rights, how many people are even aware of—let alone concerned about—Ethiopia’s latest brutal civil war and famine? Post-pandemic economic pressures have also led to a sharp decline in large-scale charity initiatives within the music industry. On top of that, the question of who to help has become increasingly politicized around the globe. Celebrities now try to steer clear of complex conflicts for fear of unwittingly upsetting any fan base or international community.

In Axum—the ancient imperial capital in northern Ethiopia—I left my tour group and walked alone into an office labeled Plan International Ethiopia, a humanitarian organization focused on children’s rights and gender equality. Although I had no appointment and had come unannounced, which is generally frowned upon in the NGO world, the staff welcomed me politely but understandably couldn’t say much. They outlined only the basics of their work: supporting orphans who’d lost their families or homes in the conflict, ensuring the provision of basic food and education, and protecting children from trafficking and sexual exploitation.

“After Trump came to power, aid from the U.S. was completely cut off. That’s made it very difficult for us to continue,” said one staff member, who, though friendly, declined to be recorded.

As I left, I noticed a United States Agency for International Development (USAID) plaque still hanging above the entrance. Outside, a group of ragged children began following me, chanting, “Money, money, money.”

“We are the world. We are the children. We are the ones who make a brighter day. So let’s start giving.”

Listening to the lyrics again now, everything feels like a dream—one too distant, too hopeful to ever come true.