The Language of Limitation

How Vocabulary Imprisons Emerging Markets

High-Risk Vocabulary

Picture a Congolese mining executive pitching to non-Congolese investors, she carefully navigates with her vocabulary: she mentions "informal" workers (though they're part of sophisticated, decades-old local networks), "high-risk" regions (though they hold 70% of the world's cobalt reserves), and "developing" infrastructure (though it's actually evolving to meet local needs). 

With each term, she watches her pitch’s value diminish in their foreign eyes, not because of the reality, but because the words she has had to use cage the opportunity in a narrative of deficiency.  

Vocabulary matters. And when language shifts mindsets follow. 

The vocabulary we use to describe emerging markets doesn't just reflect bias; it actively shapes investment flows, policy decisions, and economic outcomes.  "High-risk" means higher interest rates. "Informal" translates to less sophisticated and/or limited access to capital. "Developing" implies a need for external solutions rather than local innovation.

Yet, language seems to easily evolve in other contexts. The word 'Stan' transformed from an Eminem lyric about toxic fandom into mainstream shorthand for passion and advocacy. In just 20 years, it’s traveled from Detroit's mean streets to boardrooms and political rallies. 

The way language evolves isn’t random—it reflects cultural priorities and shifts in collective perception.  

Somehow the vocabulary we use for emerging markets remains frozen in colonial-era assumptions, so when we consistently describe African and emerging markets through the lens of what they lack rather than what they've built, we create a self-fulfilling prophecy of inadequacy.

But there's a solution: we can consciously evolve our vocabulary to recognize and amplify the unique strengths of these markets because for those that stick to outdated vocabulary, the future becomes more expensive. 

Informal Power, Formal Consequences

It is evident in how we discuss resource-rich nations like the DRC.  The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) holds over 70% of the world’s cobalt reserves, crucial for lithium-ion batteries used in electric vehicles and other technology.  Despite having a strategic resource that should be protected, the DRC is often labeled as “high-risk,”  - because of its protracted conflict - which instead deters investment in the necessary infrastructure to capture from what is the world’s largest cobalt reserve.  

The “high-risk” label naturally positions Australia as a “lower-risk” and therefore friendlier alternative.  Australia will receive gestures of partnership, trade agreements and direct investments where the DRC will receive conditional aid, increased oversight, and restrictions tied to ethical sourcing standards, positioning it as perpetual dependents rather than equal partners in the global economy. 

The problem this creates is that, while the DRC is rich in resources, the lack of infrastructure development and ongoing regulatory uncertainties make it difficult for the country to fully leverage its cobalt wealth. Consequently, investments often focus on extraction with limited reinvestment into local communities or infrastructure, perpetuating a cycle where the DRC remains resource-dependent but struggles to achieve sustainable growth. This simply because it is not their war to end.  

Sometimes, the labels hit too close to home. I remember the first time someone called me an ‘ambitious’ woman in that way that’s meant to sound complimentary but actually dismisses my efforts as excessive.  

These linguistic limitations don't just affect how we label markets and even ourselves —they actively shape how we engage, creating a kind of linguistic cancel culture with real economic consequences.

Developing Beyond Development

When we label a market as "emerging," we're not just describing its economy—we're silencing its innovations. Local leaders end up translating their victories into Western terms just to be heard, losing the nuance and value in the process. 

The root of the problem is that the standards by which we judge success are inherently narrow and biased. They celebrate quantifiable, individualistic metrics rooted in Western cultural norms—things like GDP, corporate profits, and personal wealth accumulation. But in many emerging markets, success is defined through the lens of communal welfare, adaptive resilience, and long-term sustainability. 

In Kenya, M-PESA processes 66.5% of the country's GDP (USD 74.76 billion in 2022), demonstrating that 'informal' financial systems can outperform traditional banking. In Ghana, informal community safety nets reached 38.5% of households during COVID versus 28.4% reached by government programs, showing superior crisis resilience. In Brazil, informal waste collectors recover 90% of all materials that get recycled, achieving efficiency rates that formal systems struggle to match. These aren't just different metrics—they're evidence of sophisticated economic systems our traditional measures fail to capture."

In emerging markets, success isn’t measured by a monolithic, centralized model but by decentralized networks and modular systems. This reflects a more organic, adaptable approach to growth, where smaller, autonomous units contribute to resilience at the community level, creating a flexible foundation that grows with local needs.

These alternative frameworks simply do not compute within the dominant global framework.

When we change our vocabulary, we change our questions. Instead of asking "How can we formalize this informal economy?" we might ask "What can we learn from these networks?" Instead of labeling a market "high-risk," we might explore "What opportunities emerge from these specific conditions?"

Banking on Better Language

The OED's first recorded use of "stan" as a verb.

Looking back, our global vocabulary has always been shaped by those wielding the most influence—not necessarily those with the most insight. In pop culture, it's youth-driven social movements that birth new terms; but in business, the vocabulary has largely been determined by the richest countries.  

Many of these terms crystallized during colonial trade routes and later cemented through institutions they created: the World Bank, the IMF, global credit rating agencies, and obscures the historical context. This linguistic dominance stems from those who controlled the platforms, the textbooks, the boardrooms where these terms became standard. 

Today's business language shouldn’t continue to echo this legacy.

Looking to the future, this vocabulary shift could revolutionize how we engage. 

Imagine investors who seek to understand local innovations rather than impose external models. 

Imagine development programs that build on existing strengths rather than presuming deficiencies. 

Imagine business strategy that embraces local complexity rather than trying to simplify it into familiar patterns.

Imagine if our vocabulary celebrated modular, decentralized growth as the hallmark of resilience, rather than treating it as a stopgap to ‘real’ civilization. 

Nothing in emerging markets is easy—but perhaps that's precisely the point. These markets demand a more sophisticated vocabulary because they represent more sophisticated realities than our current language allows. 

We should be bold enough to push for more universities to teach a class on Ubuntu Management Principles grounded in South African traditions of community and collective responsibility or about the pre-slavery Igbo apprenticeship system, Imu Ahia, that still drives innovation and commerce in South-Eastern Nigeria today, for instance.   

Originating a new word into language is by no means a perfect science.  The challenge now is to develop this new vocabulary together, and be willing to complicate our understanding rather than simplify it.  

Because in the end, the right words don't just describe better solutions—they make better solutions possible

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