Throughout my career, I rarely gave thought to the feelings of my colleagues, a mindset that took root early on and persisted for years. When I embarked on my professional journey—starting with a full-time role in a fast-paced newsroom where the relentless drive to deliver stories overshadowed any concern for the staff’s emotions or personal experiences—I dismissed that human element of work life as irrelevant.
Deadlines loomed large, and the pressure to produce eclipsed any notion of checking in on how the team was holding up under the strain. I saw it as a necessary trade-off: efficiency and results trumped sentiment every time. However, as time wore on, experience became a stern teacher, revealing the flaws in my approach. I came to realize that companies, organizations or institutions, no matter their industry or mission, are fundamentally built on the foundation of their people.
Without the dedication, creativity, and resilience of those who show up day after day, any organization—no matter how well-funded or strategically brilliant—is doomed to collapse. Some might scoff at this, arguing that placing value on workers’ feelings is just a flimsy shield wielded by the incompetent, a way to dodge accountability under the guise of compassion. They insist that the work itself—its urgency, its priority—should always take precedence, and that dwelling on emotions only slows progress. Yet, that perspective, while tempting in its simplicity, misses the deeper truth: ignoring the human core of a company doesn’t just undermine morale—it erodes the very engine that drives success.
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In the media sector, where I spent over eight years of my career, I observed a clear pattern: those leaders and organizations that cared little for their staff’s well-being were the same ones grappling with staggering turnover rates, sometimes soaring as high as 80 to 90 percent. Picture a newsroom whittled down to just one or two editors, with the entire editorial staff vanishing in a mass exodus—a scenario I witnessed firsthand on multiple occasions. The root of this chaos was our near-total neglect of the staff’s feelings and experiences. We operated under the misguided belief that the grind of breaking news and relentless deadlines justified overlooking the human cost, but the consequences were undeniable: burned-out teams, fractured morale, and a revolving door of talent that left us scrambling to rebuild time and again.
This isn’t just anecdotal; research and case studies bear it out. Take, for instance, the concept of emotional intelligence (EQ), popularized by psychologist Daniel Goleman, which emphasizes the critical role of empathy and interpersonal awareness in effective leadership. Studies, like those cited in Harvard Business Review, consistently link high EQ in management to lower turnover and higher employee satisfaction—yet in many media environments, this is dismissed as soft or secondary to output.
Contrast that with the media industry’s reality: a 2021 report from the Poynter Institute highlighted how newsrooms with toxic cultures and indifferent leadership saw turnover rates spike, particularly during the pandemic, with some outlets losing nearly their entire staff in under two years. One striking example is the case of The Tampa Bay Times, which, despite its Pulitzer-winning reputation, faced waves of resignations in the early 2020s as journalists cited grueling workloads and a lack of emotional support from management, according to posts on X and industry analyses.
In other sectors, the high turnover reflects a broader trend of prioritizing output over people. A study from Addis Ababa University over a 20-year period (1991–2011) found a 92.8 percent turnover rate among faculty staff in health-related fields, with the rate spiking to 172 percent in the last five years of that period, largely due to poor working conditions and lack of support. This mirrors my newsroom experiences, where relentless deadlines and minimal recognition drove talent away.
The Job Demands-Resources (JD-R) Model, which links excessive demands (e.g., tight deadlines) with inadequate resources (e.g., emotional support) to burnout, fits here perfectly. Ethiopian media outlets, often underfunded and overstretched, pile on demands but rarely provide resources like training or mental health support, fueling attrition.
Retail in Ethiopia tells a similar story. The sector, dominated by small-scale traders and a growing number of supermarkets in urban centers like Addis Ababa, faces high churn due to low pay and grueling hours. A 2020 World Bank report on employment in Ethiopia noted that informal retail workers, who form the backbone of the sector, often earn below a living wage—around 1,917 Ethiopian Birr monthly (roughly 35 US dollars in 2025 terms)—pushing them to seek better opportunities. Take the case of breweries, major Ethiopian corporate players. While not retail-specific, its workforce stability relies on competitive wages and benefits, contrasting sharply with smaller retailers where turnover is rampant due to neglect of worker well-being. The Herzberg Two-Factor Theory applies here: while hygiene factors like pay keep workers from leaving, motivators like recognition and growth opportunities—often absent in Ethiopian retail—determine long-term retention.
The tech sector in Ethiopia, though nascent, is no exception. With the rise of startups like Ride (a local ride-hailing service) and the government’s Digital Ethiopia 2025 strategy, tech jobs are growing, but retention lags. A 2023 study from the Ethiopian Innovation Hub reported that 60 percent of tech workers in Addis Ababa considered leaving their jobs within a year, citing poor management and lack of professional development.
This echoes global trends—LinkedIn data pegs tech turnover at 13.2 percent worldwide—but in Ethiopia, it’s compounded by limited infrastructure and training. For instance, Ethio Telecom, a state-owned giant, struggles with staff retention despite its monopoly, as skilled engineers emigrate for better prospects abroad, a phenomenon dubbed “brain drain.” The Self-Determination Theory, emphasizing autonomy, competence, and relatedness, highlights the gap: Ethiopian tech workers often lack autonomy in rigid hierarchies and competence-building opportunities, driving them away.
Healthcare in Ethiopia faces perhaps the starkest crisis. A 2023 systematic review in PMC found a 58.9 percent turnover intention rate among healthcare workers, with over half intending to leave due to low wages (median income of 1,917 Birr), heavy workloads, and burnout—exacerbated by the COVID-19 aftermath.
At Jimma University Teaching Hospital (JUTH), a 2015 study reported a 45.9% turnover rate, higher than many sub-Saharan peers, driven by poor management and inadequate facilities. Contrast this with private facilities in Addis Ababa, where a 2016 Demographic and Health Survey showed growing staff stability due to better pay and conditions. The Conservation of Resources Theory explains this: public sector workers lose resources (time, energy) without replenishment (support, rest), while private sector investments in staff stem the tide.
Across these sectors, Ethiopia’s context—marked by economic constraints, a youthful workforce (42% under 14 in 2015 per World Bank), and a cultural undervaluing of employee well-being—amplifies turnover. Yet, outliers’ facilities show that prioritizing staff pays off. The lesson is clear: neglecting workers isn’t just a moral lapse; it’s a strategic blunder. Theories like JD-R, Herzberg’s, and Self-Determination, adapted to Ethiopia’s realities, suggest that balancing demands with resources—fair pay, recognition, and growth—can curb the exodus and build strong organizations.
