On Nov. 25, Band Aid released the “ultimate remix” of “Do They Know It’s Christmas?,” the rock charity single from 40 years ago that, in addition to whatever good it has done, also broadcasts a narrative that undermines an entire continent’s dignity and agency.

The recording has raised millions for humanitarian aid but has also furthered misrepresentations that have long justified treating Africa as a blank slate for Western intervention.

In 1984, Bob Geldof, then the lead singer for the Boomtown Rats, brought together a supergroup of British and Irish rock stars to perform “Do They Know It’s Christmas?,” a song he co-wrote after seeing BBC reports of widespread famine in Ethiopia.

The lyrics are a pop-song paean to colonialism, reminiscent of Hegel’s 19th century thinking when he dismissed Africa as “unhistorical, undeveloped” and “devoid of morality, religions and political constitution.”

Lines such as “Where nothing ever grows / No rain nor rivers flow” and “Well tonight, thank God it’s them instead of you” painted Ethiopia as helpless, barren and dependent on Western salvation. In 1984, the song, accompanied by wrenching famine images, simplified a complex crisis, reducing the nation’s historical, cultural and religious identity to a caricature of despair for Western audiences.

The Ethiopian famine of 1984 was far from a straightforward natural disaster. It was exacerbated by the civil war between Ethiopia’s Soviet-aligned Derg regime and insurgent groups such as the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front supported by Western nations. Cold War geopolitics turned the famine into a proxy battleground, with the U.S. and U.K. providing both famine relief and covert support to insurgents seeking to weaken the Derg.

The original Band Aid release set a record for Christmas sales in the U.K., and eight months later, Geldof organized Live Aid, a televised concert that attracted more than a billion viewers in more than 100 countries, or roughly a third of humanity. Broadcast over 16 hours from Wembley Stadium in London and John F. Kennedy Stadium (since demolished) in Philadelphia, it was a landmark cultural event featuring performances by David Bowie, Madonna, Paul McCartney and dozens more, and was attended by British royalty, including Princess Diana. The spectacle raised an astonishing $50 million in pledges, alongside additional revenue from sold-out merchandise. It was hailed as the pinnacle of humanitarian success.

However, behind the euphoric Live Aid headlines lay dark questions. In a memoir, Fikre Selassie Wogderess, Ethiopia’s prime minister from 1987 to 1989, said only $20 million worth of aid actually reached the country in the mid-’80s. Reports — denied by Geldof and, in one instance, retracted by the BBC — have suggested that some of the funds could have landed in rebel hands. Since 1985, the Band Aid Charitable Trust is estimated to have raised more than $178 million for African relief, but the broader context cannot be ignored.

Beyond the famine, the West’s involvement in Ethiopia turned into overt political meddling. In 1991, during the fall of the Derg, the U.K. and U.S. orchestrated a peace conference in London that enabled the TPLF to rise to power. This minority-led government ruled Ethiopia for 27 years, exacerbating ethnic tensions and sowing the seeds of instability that continue to plague the nation. The parallels with the Berlin Conference of 1884 — 2024 marks its 140th anniversary — where European powers divided Africa for their gain, are striking. Both events reveal a pattern of external forces imposing political structures on Africa to serve their interests, heedless of the continent’s complex histories and diverse peoples.

Band Aid’s long-term impact on Africa’s image is equally troubling. The branding of Ethiopia — and by extension, Africa — as a monolithic land of suffering has been repeated through the years with revivals of “Do They Know It’s Christmas?,” including Band Aid II in 1989, Band Aid 20 in 2004, Band Aid 30 in 2014 and now Band Aid 40, shaping how the world sees and engages with Africa, and no doubt influencing investment, collaboration and policy decisions.

The lyrics have been edited in response to critics calling the song demeaning and rife with colonial tropes, but it remains a self-congratulatory and tone-deaf exercise. A majority of Ethiopians are Christians; the country adopted Christianity as early as the 4th century AD. Ethiopians knew it was Christmas in the winter of 1984, and they know it now — despite the song’s patronizing question.

And Ethiopia continues to be misrepresented in the Western imagination. Far from being a helpless land, it is the cradle of human civilization with a legacy as a leader in Africa’s fight against colonialism. Although the country in 2024 is no utopia — its challenges are real — it has survived a century of external interference and internal struggles. Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed responded succinctly to the 2024 Band Aid remix: “A good cause that has not evolved with the times might end up doing more harm than good.”

The relentless revival of narratives centered on helplessness and dependency distorts the rich and complex realities of Ethiopia and Africa. Rather than perpetuating outdated stereotypes, we must elevate African voices and champion a future where Africa leads and inspires on its own terms.

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Elias Wondimu divides his time between Ethiopia and Los Angeles. He is the founding director of Tshehai Publishers, the editorial director of the International Journal of Ethiopian Studies and a senior fellow with the International Strategic Studies Association.

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