Unpacking the history behind the term, its misuse, and its impact on migrants across the globe.
As the United States grapples with the aftermath of the tragic killing of National Guardswoman Sarah Beckstrom, President Donald Trump has reignited a controversial vocabulary that has long shaped perceptions of Africa and the Global South.
In a speech delivered on Thanksgiving Day, Trump announced he would seek a “permanent pause” on immigration from what he called “third-world countries.”
World Reframed 20
This rhetoric echoes a now well-known moment in 2018 when Trump reportedly called Haiti and several African nations “shithole countries.” Trump’s worldview and his language have hardly shifted.
The U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services later clarified that Trump’s new reference targets a group of 19 countries, including Afghanistan, Eritrea, Haiti, Iran, Myanmar, Somalia, Sudan, Venezuela, Sierra Leone, Togo, and others previously listed under a travel ban.
Where “Third World” actually comes from
In 1952, French demographer Alfred Sauvy coined the term “Third World.” Contrary to modern usage, it had nothing to do with development or poverty. Instead, Sauvy was drawing an analogy to pre-Revolutionary France:
Third World: Countries non-aligned with either bloc
Over time, however, the meaning shifted incorrectly to denote poor or “backward” nations. Today, it functions mainly as a political shorthand, often deployed for emotional effect rather than accuracy.
Trump’s use of vague terms is not incidental; it is strategic. By refusing to clearly define which countries qualify as “third world,” he creates an atmosphere of uncertainty.
This tactic parallels the proposed $100,000 fee for H-1B visas earlier this year, a sweeping announcement that caused panic among thousands of legal U.S. residents before details were even released.
The impact is real: cancelled travel plans, families afraid to leave the U.S., and long visa queues in cities from Accra to Nairobi.
Terms like “third world” shape global aid, security cooperation, and public perception. They inform who is seen as a threat and who is seen as worthy.
For millions of Africans seeking educational or professional opportunities abroad, the implications are personal and immediate.
Should the media repeat the phrase at all?
A critical question arises: When reporting Trump’s speeches, should the media repeat his terminology verbatim?
Repeating language that is vague, outdated, or prejudicial can unintentionally reinforce harmful narratives.
While Trump’s comments followed a horrific killing in Washington, such incidents have become political tools. Whether Trump’s new “third world” designation becomes a formal list remains unclear. But the ambiguity alone shifts behaviour and fuels anxiety.
Trump’s language isn’t just rhetoric. It powerfully influences global mobility, international relationships, and how billions of people understand their place in the world.
