Part 2 · Analysis

Ethiopia’s Republic in Retreat

The Politics of Fear and Plato’s Warning Against Tyranny

By Mareshet Yimer Meshesha · Independent Analyst · 11 November 2026

Part 1 examined the blurring of civilian administration and military command. Part 2 asks what happens when executive authority becomes personal, institutions lose their independence and the logic of the garrison begins to govern the republic — and turns to Plato’s Republic for the questions Ethiopia’s leaders must answer.

Author’s note: beyond the politics of the present

Before proceeding, I should be clear about the purpose and intended audience of this essay. I am conscious that writing about democracy, freedom of expression, constitutional accountability and human rights, in a political environment marked by serious allegations of state abuses, arbitrary detention, civilian suffering and the suppression of dissent, may appear paradoxical. Appealing to a perpetrator to respect human rights, asking a jailer to free the incarcerated, or expecting those who suppress independent thought to embrace free expression may seem to place an unrealistic expectation upon those who wield coercive power.

That objection deserves serious consideration. This essay does not assume that those who currently hold political authority will embrace its arguments, nor that democratic principles can be secured merely by appealing to the goodwill of those in power. Fundamental rights are not privileges granted at a government’s discretion. They are inherent protections that legitimate public institutions are obliged to recognise and uphold.

My purpose is therefore broader and more enduring than an appeal to the present political establishment. I write primarily for the Ethiopian intellectual community: the emerging generation of scholars, students, professionals, civic leaders and future public administrators who will inherit the task of rebuilding the country’s political and institutional foundations.

The aim is to encourage critical examination of political authority, to cultivate an understanding of constitutional government, to distinguish legitimate state power from arbitrary coercion, and to stimulate informed debate among Ethiopians of differing political, regional, ethnic and ideological outlooks.

A free society cannot be sustained merely by replacing one administration with another. It requires citizens who understand justice, institutional independence, accountability, political pluralism and the limits of executive authority. It requires public servants who recognise that their first obligation is to the constitutional state and its citizens, not to an individual leader or a ruling party.

Equally, responsible government cannot be built upon conformity, fear or the concentration of authority. It must rest upon institutions capable of restraining power, protecting individual freedoms, accommodating legitimate differences and resolving disputes through law rather than force.

That is why I have chosen Plato’s Republic as the philosophical foundation of this examination. Its enduring contribution is not a ready-made constitutional blueprint for modern Ethiopia, but an invitation to examine the moral foundations of political authority and the responsibilities of those who govern.

The Socratic method of questioning matters just as much. It obliges us to challenge assumptions, expose contradictions, interrogate established narratives and subject political claims to reasoned scrutiny. No leader, government, opposition movement, intellectual or community should be exempt.

I do not presume that Ethiopians will agree on every political question, nor do I seek to prescribe a predetermined constitutional outcome. The country’s future must emerge from informed, inclusive and genuinely participatory national deliberation.

This essay is addressed not only to those who govern Ethiopia today, but to those who will be entrusted with governing it tomorrow. The objective is not simply to demand a better government. It is to help educate a generation capable of building one, holding it to account and ensuring that no future government can place itself above the people and the law.

Introduction: when government begins to resemble a garrison

The Ethiopian state is undergoing a profound political and institutional crisis. What is increasingly apparent is not simply a struggle over leadership, or the persistence of armed conflict across several regions. It is a deeper question about the nature of the Ethiopian state, the purpose of its institutions and the relationship between political authority, military power and civilian society.

The separation of civilian administration from military command is a foundational principle of modern constitutional government. Civilian institutions exist to formulate policy, deliver public services, negotiate competing interests, protect citizens’ rights and answer to the public. Military institutions exist to defend the state and its sovereignty, operating within the constitutional authority of civilian government.

When these boundaries blur, the consequences reach far beyond administrative organisation. They shape the culture of government, the independence of professional judgement, the relationship between citizen and state, and ultimately the legitimacy of political authority itself.

This concern was the subject of my earlier analysis, “The Architecture of the Uniform: A Scholarly Deconstruction of Civilian-Military Blurring in Contemporary Ethiopia”, published in The Ethiopian Tribune. That article examined the implications of sending civilian cabinet ministers and senior officials to military training.

Subsequent political and security developments invite a broader examination. The militarisation of civilian life cannot be understood in isolation from the concentration of executive authority, the narrowing of political space, the marginalisation of independent thought and the growing difficulty of resolving national disagreements through constitutional institutions.

More than two millennia ago, Plato explored these very dangers in the Republic. His account of political degeneration, of popular leadership turning into tyranny, and of the destructive consequences of unaccountable power offers a compelling framework for examining Ethiopia’s predicament.

The central concern is not whether a leader wears a suit or a uniform. It is whether the institutions of government retain their independence, whether political authority remains accountable, and whether the state serves its citizens or increasingly expects citizens and institutions to serve the leadership.

“A republic exists to serve its people. A garrison exists to defend itself.”

The distinction is fundamental. When the philosophy of the garrison begins to govern the republic, the foundations of constitutional government are placed at risk.

The philosophical foundation: Plato’s Republic and the Socratic examination of power

Before turning to Ethiopia, it is worth setting out the philosophical ground on which this analysis stands.

The Republic is not merely a treatise on the organisation of government. It is a sustained inquiry into justice, political authority, knowledge, civic responsibility and the decay of political systems. Through dialogues led by Socrates, Plato challenges prevailing assumptions about justice and asks what distinguishes legitimate government from the exercise of power for private or sectional ends.

Socrates matters because he does not begin by announcing conclusions. He asks questions. He tests the claims of those who profess knowledge, exposes the contradictions in their arguments and challenges the assumption that political authority automatically confers wisdom. That method is especially relevant to Ethiopia today.

In Book I, Socrates confronts Thrasymachus’s claim that justice is simply the advantage of the stronger. The exchange raises a fundamental question: does justice serve those who hold power, or should those who hold power govern in the interests of the community?

In Books II to IV, Plato develops the idea of the just city, examining its institutions, the duties of its guardians and the principle that each part of the political community must perform its proper function.

In Books V to VII, the discussion turns to knowledge, wisdom and the responsibilities of those entrusted with rule. The philosopher-ruler is distinguished not by an appetite for power but by an understanding of justice and the common good. The Allegory of the Cave in Book VII explores the gulf between appearance and reality, and the difficult duty of those who acquire knowledge to return to public life.

Finally, in Books VIII and IX, Plato traces the degeneration of political systems and the emergence of tyranny. He shows how authority becomes personalised, how the ruler comes to depend on flatterers, and how fear, distrust and the pursuit of personal power hollow out the political community.

These are not merely ancient observations. They provide a framework for examining the present relationship between executive authority, civilian institutions, military power and the rights of citizens.

The questions posed throughout this article are therefore deliberately Socratic. They are not imagined historical conversations between Socrates and a modern Ethiopian prime minister, but contemporary applications of the method by which Plato tests political claims and the moral obligations of those who exercise authority.

The central question remains unchanged. Can a government justify its power by reference to justice, or does it merely expect justice to conform to its power?

I. The militarisation of civilian government

The military training of senior civilian officials under Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed marks a significant development in the relationship between civilian administration and the armed forces.

In late October 2026, photographs shared by the prime minister showed cabinet ministers, deputy ministers and heads of government institutions taking part in exercises at the Hurso military training centre. Abiy participated himself and publicly defended the initiative as a means of cultivating discipline, patriotism, responsibility, teamwork and leadership.

His explanation included the observation that soldiers have targets while civilians have goals, but that both ultimately pursue victory. The remark deserves attention because it reveals a particular conception of public administration: one in which civilian and military institutions are fused by a shared philosophy of discipline, mobilisation and achievement.

There is an understandable argument that military institutions teach valuable lessons in organisation, physical preparedness, teamwork and responsibility, and such training does not, by itself, prove that civilian officials have been subordinated to military command. The deeper question concerns the institutional and political consequences of normalising military methods as a model for civilian government.

A Minister of Finance must be able to challenge unrealistic spending assumptions. A Minister of Justice must be able to defend legal principles even when they inconvenience the executive. A Minister of Foreign Affairs must be able to negotiate and exercise diplomatic judgement rather than simply transmit instructions.

A professional civil administration requires independent thinking, technical competence, deliberation and the capacity to question political leadership. Military command, by contrast, necessarily operates through a defined chain of authority, operational discipline and the execution of orders.

These are different institutional functions. The danger arises when the behavioural expectations of command begin to displace the professional independence of civilian administration. A minister should not be expected to behave like a subordinate officer. A public servant should not be judged chiefly by political obedience. A government institution should not become an extension of the executive’s command structure.

The purpose of civilian government is not victory over political opponents. It is to administer the country in the public interest. The distinction matters acutely in Ethiopia, where political disagreements, regional conflicts and questions of national identity demand negotiation, constitutional accommodation and institutional trust.

A country cannot resolve deep-rooted political disagreements by treating them as military objectives.

II. Political insecurity and the ideology of total mobilisation

Political systems under prolonged insecurity tend towards centralisation and mobilisation. The language of national survival, discipline, patriotism and security grows ever more prominent. Political problems are framed as security threats, and the instruments of government are progressively reoriented towards containing them. This is the political logic of the garrison state.

A garrison state is not defined simply by a strong military or by real security challenges. It is characterised by the growing dominance of security considerations over civilian political, economic and social life. Under such conditions, government risks seeing society chiefly through the categories of loyalty, obedience, mobilisation and threat.

The consequences are significant. Civilian administrators grow reluctant to challenge executive decisions. Professional disagreement is read as disloyalty. Public grievances are treated as security problems rather than legitimate political concerns. Government reaches for coercion where negotiation and institutional reform are required.

This creates a destructive cycle. Instability generates demands for stronger executive control. Stronger control narrows legitimate political participation. Narrowed participation deepens grievances. Deeper grievances generate fresh demands for security intervention. The result is a militarised political environment in which government becomes more preoccupied with maintaining control than with resolving the causes of instability.

Ethiopia must be examined against this danger. The country faces multiple security challenges: armed conflict in Amhara and parts of Oromia, renewed fighting in Tigray and a sharply deteriorating relationship with Eritrea. These challenges are complex and involve many political and armed actors.

Yet the existence of security threats does not justify the permanent subordination of civilian government to a security-centred philosophy. The state must remain capable of distinguishing between legitimate political disagreement, criminal conduct and armed rebellion. A constitutional government cannot treat every grievance as an act of war.

III. The degeneration of political leadership

The Republic offers a particularly revealing framework for understanding the dangers of personalised authority. In Books VIII and IX, Plato examines how political systems decay, how democracy can deteriorate into tyranny, and how a leader who first presents himself as the people’s champion can become the instrument of their subjugation.

Plato’s account is neither a description of modern Ethiopia nor a literal prediction. Its value lies in the patterns it identifies.

Plato’s tyrant emerges in a society marked by division, insecurity and discontent. He presents himself as the people’s protector, promises to defend their interests and names the enemies responsible for the country’s troubles. Gradually, however, the relationship between leader and community changes.

The leader comes to identify the preservation of his authority with the preservation of the state. Opposition becomes a threat. Independent institutions become an inconvenience. Personal loyalty becomes more valuable than professional judgement. The ruler’s survival begins to eclipse the public interest. That is the essential Platonic warning.

In examining Abiy Ahmed’s government, the relevant question is whether political authority is becoming excessively personalised, and whether the safeguards needed to restrain executive power remain effective.

A prime minister is not the state. A governing party is not the nation. A government programme is not a constitutional mandate to disregard the rights of citizens. The state must remain larger than the individual who temporarily occupies its highest office.

Plato’s conception of justice requires rulers to understand that authority carries obligations. Government exists to serve the common good, not to secure the interests of those who exercise power.

IV. The destruction of independent thought

One of Plato’s most penetrating observations concerns the tyrant and those around him. In his portrait of the tyrannical character in Book IX, Plato describes a court increasingly governed by fear, dependence and the absence of genuine friendship.

The ruler’s inner circle fills with people whose fortunes depend on his continued favour. Independent judgement is discouraged. Honest criticism becomes dangerous. Advisers learn to anticipate what the leader wishes to hear rather than tell him what the country needs him to know.

The result is an establishment that rewards agreement and marginalises independent thought, with consequences throughout government. A minister who cannot challenge an unrealistic policy assumption cannot properly discharge the office. A planning authority that cannot report inconvenient economic realities becomes a producer of propaganda. A legal institution that cannot question executive decisions loses its constitutional function. The destruction of independent thought is therefore not merely an intellectual problem. It is an administrative and constitutional crisis.

The same danger arises when civilian institutions adopt a command culture. When professional judgement is subordinated to political loyalty, government loses its capacity for self-correction.

A country as complex as Ethiopia needs the highest levels of professional competence, intellectual independence and political tolerance. It cannot afford a system in which an official’s proximity to the prime minister counts for more than the official’s capacity to serve the country.

“When agreement becomes the price of political survival, truth becomes the first casualty of government.”

V. The manipulation of appearances

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave offers another insight into contemporary political communication. The prisoners in the cave mistake shadows for reality because they have been prevented from seeing anything beyond the images presented to them.

The allegory speaks to a modern environment in which governments command formidable communication machinery and can construct carefully managed narratives of national progress, security and legitimacy. A government may promote an image of transformation while citizens experience displacement, insecurity, exclusion and hardship. It may celebrate development achievements while avoiding questions about the accountability of public institutions. It may project international confidence while domestic political relationships deteriorate.

There is nothing inherently wrong with promoting national achievements or development ambitions. Ethiopia has legitimate aspirations for economic transformation, infrastructure and regional influence. But achievement in one area cannot excuse failure in another. Economic development cannot substitute for the protection of human rights. Diplomatic recognition cannot replace domestic legitimacy. International visibility cannot compensate for the absence of accountability.

The problem emerges when managing appearances matters more than confronting the realities citizens live with. The Allegory of the Cave reminds us that the appearance of political success and the substance of just government are not the same thing.

A government must be judged by the conditions in which its people live, the rights they enjoy and the institutions through which their grievances can be heard.

VI. The subjugation of citizens

The gravest consequences of eroding civilian constitutional government fall on ordinary citizens. The Ethiopian state has a constitutional duty to protect all its citizens, irrespective of ethnicity, region, political affiliation or ideology. The armed forces exist to defend the country and its people. They are not instruments for preserving the supremacy of a particular administration.

The conflicts in Amhara and Oromia, the unresolved legacy of the Tigray war and insecurity elsewhere have imposed enormous human costs. Human Rights Watch’s World Report 2026, covering events in 2025, documents continued fighting between federal forces and Fano fighters in Amhara, conflict involving the Oromo Liberation Army in parts of Oromia, civilian casualties, displacement and serious abuses by warring parties.

The report also records attacks on civilians, including deaths from drone strikes in the Amhara region, the continuing deterioration of independent media and civil society, and the failure to advance transitional justice.

The government’s responsibility is heightened because it exercises constitutional authority over the national security institutions. The existence of armed opposition cannot extinguish the rights of civilian populations. Security challenges cannot justify arbitrary detention, extrajudicial killing, torture or the indiscriminate use of force. A government that claims to defend national unity must show that it protects the lives and rights of all citizens, including those in communities that oppose its programme.

The social contract is reciprocal. Citizens owe allegiance to the constitutional state; the state owes them protection, equal treatment and the rule of law. When that relationship is inverted, authority becomes coercive rather than legitimate.

VII. The destruction of technocratic integrity

The militarisation of civilian government is more than symbolism. It threatens the professional foundations of public administration. A functioning bureaucracy depends on officials who can gather accurate information, weigh competing priorities, challenge assumptions and offer independent advice.

Consider a Minister of Finance, who must be able to report deficits honestly, resist unsustainable spending and explain economic constraints even when the findings are politically inconvenient. A Minister of Agriculture must be able to report poor harvests, regional food insecurity and structural weaknesses in production. A Minister of Justice must be able to defend due process and judicial independence even when they collide with executive preference. None of these duties can be discharged in a culture that treats disagreement as insubordination.

The danger is the replacement of technocratic integrity with performative compliance. Institutions begin producing information that satisfies political expectations rather than reflecting economic and social reality. Performance indicators become political instruments. Official achievement becomes hard to distinguish from political messaging. Policy drifts away from evidence.

The consequences can be severe. A government that cannot obtain accurate information cannot make sound decisions. A government that discourages professional criticism loses its ability to anticipate problems. A government that mistakes obedience for competence eventually undermines its own administrative foundations.

The issue is not whether civilian officials can learn from military organisation. It is whether the government understands that professional civil administration requires intellectual independence, not military-style obedience.

VIII. The dangers of militarised political authority

History offers instructive comparisons. Iraq under the Ba’ath Party and Albania under Enver Hoxha show how authoritarian systems can subordinate professional and civilian institutions to regime security and ideological control.

In Iraq, the Ba’athist system built extensive mechanisms of party control and security surveillance across civilian institutions; professional advancement and public administration became deeply entangled with political loyalty. In Albania, Hoxha’s system combined ideological control, sprawling security structures and an extraordinary emphasis on national defence and preparedness, producing an intensely controlled political and social order.

The lesson is that militarisation is not simply a matter of uniforms, drills or physical training. It becomes a fundamental political problem when military and security priorities displace the independence of civilian institutions.

There are positive comparisons too. Post-war West Germany developed the doctrine of Innere Führung, or “leadership and civic education”, establishing the ideal of the citizen in uniform and ensuring that the armed forces remained embedded in a democratic constitutional order. Parliamentary control and civilian supremacy became central to the German model. France, through its professional civil service and republican institutions, likewise illustrates the value of an independent civilian administration and legal limits on military involvement in domestic government.

The comparative lesson is clear. Strong national defence and professional civilian government are not competing objectives. They are complementary foundations of a stable constitutional state.

IX. National unity or political conformity?

Ethiopia’s debate over national unity demands particular care. The country is a multinational state of distinct communities, histories, political aspirations and constitutional interests. Its unity cannot be secured by demanding conformity to the preferences of the federal government, nor can regional grievances be dismissed as inherently hostile to national sovereignty. Legitimate demands for representation, regional autonomy, constitutional protection and accountability must be addressed through peaceful, institutional processes.

A government that confuses its own survival with the survival of the country risks making national unity conditional on obedience to the incumbent leadership. That is a dangerous misunderstanding of statehood.

“The government is temporary. The country is not.”

The prime minister is an officeholder; Ethiopia is a political community that spans generations. The constitution is the foundation of public authority, not an instrument to be invoked selectively for executive convenience. The military is an institution of the state. It does not belong to the ruling party.

A genuinely united Ethiopia must be built on equal citizenship, constitutional guarantees, mutual recognition and institutions that command public confidence. It cannot be sustained by coercion alone.

X. No government should be above the law

Accountability is inseparable from legitimacy. Ethiopia’s international partners bear a responsibility to ensure that diplomatic engagement does not become an excuse for overlooking serious human rights concerns. Canada, the United States, the European Union and others have previously voiced concern about abuses in Ethiopia and the need for justice and accountability, particularly over the Tigray conflict.

The international response should be consistent and principled. Allegations of serious violations must be investigated independently. Evidence must be preserved. Victims must have access to justice. Those found individually responsible must be held to account through appropriate legal mechanisms.

This applies to every party to the conflicts, federal forces and non-state armed groups alike. The principle is not political vengeance. It is equality before the law.

A prime minister’s international standing cannot confer immunity from legitimate investigation. Equally, accusations against a leader cannot substitute for evidence or due process. If credible evidence establishes individual responsibility for war crimes, crimes against humanity or other serious international crimes, the appropriate national and international mechanisms must be allowed to examine it.

Diplomatic relationships must not become a shield against accountability. Nor should Ethiopians be collectively punished for the conduct of their government. The international community must distinguish between the Ethiopian state, its people and the administration that currently holds executive power. That distinction is essential to Ethiopia’s long-term interests.

XI. The final Platonic indictment

The most important lesson of the Republic is that political authority must be organised around justice rather than personal power.

Plato’s philosopher-ruler does not seek authority for personal gratification. He understands the responsibilities of rule and recognises that the interests of the state must come before private ambition. That provides a useful standard against which Ethiopia’s government can be measured.

The questions are not whether Abiy Ahmed is an effective communicator, whether he can secure international meetings, whether he can announce ambitious development programmes or whether his party can maintain its dominance. The questions are far more fundamental.

Does the government protect Ethiopian citizens from unlawful violence?

Are all communities entitled to equal protection under the law?

Can political opponents challenge executive decisions without fear of arbitrary punishment?

Are journalists, academics and intellectuals free to investigate and criticise those in authority?

Are the military and security institutions accountable to constitutional authority?

Can civilian ministers exercise independent professional judgement?

Are alleged crimes investigated impartially?

Can political differences be resolved through constitutional dialogue rather than armed confrontation?

These are the measures of political legitimacy. A government cannot claim success simply because it remains in power. Its legitimacy must be demonstrated through the security, dignity, freedom and wellbeing of its people.

The gravest danger facing Ethiopia is not merely the continuation of armed conflict. It is the erosion of the institutions and civic relationships that make peaceful political life possible.

If political competition becomes a struggle for survival, if public institutions become instruments of loyalty, if military power displaces constitutional authority and if national unity becomes synonymous with obedience to the incumbent, the country risks losing the foundations on which any democratic political community must rest.

Plato’s warning endures: the concentration of power without accountability ultimately damages both the governed and those who govern.

XII. What would Socrates ask Abiy Ahmed?

Were Abiy Ahmed to sit before Socrates, the questions would not concern his political achievements, his international recognition or his command of the machinery of government. They would concern justice, the protection of human life, the limits of authority and the duties of those entrusted with governing a nation.

Socrates would not be satisfied by grand declarations about national unity, economic transformation or sovereignty. He would ask whether the conduct of government is consistent with the principles it claims to uphold. He might begin as follows.

On political prisoners and the suppression of independent thought

If your government claims to represent the people, why must intellectuals, academics, journalists and independent commentators languish in prison, in conditions their families and advocates describe as harsh, for challenging the government’s narrative?

Why are journalists and public intellectuals treated as enemies of the state rather than as essential participants in the public examination of government?

Why have some thirty detainees — among them the journalist Meskerem Abera, Dr Wondwossen Assefa, Dr Sisay Awgichew and other academics, journalists and political figures — reportedly remained in custody after refusing to sign conditional-pardon documents that would require them to accept responsibility for crimes they contest in court?

Why should prisoners be required to admit guilt, surrender the presumption of innocence or accept responsibility for a wider conflict as the price of freedom? Is a confession extracted under the threat of continued imprisonment an instrument of justice, or of political coercion?

Why should elected representatives and opposition figures, including the MP Christian Tadele, be caught in a process in which the price of liberty appears to be submission to a government-prescribed narrative of guilt?

A government confident in its legal system should welcome independent scrutiny and allow every accused person to defend themselves before an impartial court. It should not make political conformity the price of liberty.

On civilian deaths, military operations and the sanctity of human life

Why must Ethiopian civilians continue to die in recurring massacres and attacks across Arsi, Wollega and other conflict-affected areas? What concrete measures has your government taken to protect vulnerable communities, identify perpetrators and bring those responsible to justice?

Why do reports of retaliatory killings, the destruction of civilian property and collective punishment in parts of Wollega continue to emerge? What responsibility do federal and regional authorities bear when their security forces are accused of committing, facilitating or failing to prevent such abuses?

Why must communities in Moyale and the surrounding Borana areas endure killings, displacement and the destruction of homes amid escalating territorial and inter-regional tensions? Where is the federal government’s protection of civilians, and its duty to prevent regional disputes from becoming humanitarian disasters?

Why are drone operations conducted in circumstances in which civilians — children, the elderly and displaced families — are killed? How can strikes that reportedly kill people ranging from two-year-old children to elderly citizens be justified, and what independent investigations have established whether the targets were lawful military objectives?

Why were displaced civilians at the Jari 2 camp near Hayk, in Amhara, struck by drones on 29 October 2026, in an attack that Reuters reported killed at least fifteen people, five of them children? Reuters noted that it was not clear who carried out the strikes. Who conducted the operation, who authorised it, what was its intended target, and who will be held accountable if an investigation establishes that the attack was unlawful?

If military operations are conducted in defence of national security, why resist independent investigation of civilian casualties? Does national security extinguish the obligation to distinguish combatants from civilians?

The death of an Ethiopian civilian must never become an acceptable statistic of political or military strategy. The protection of life is not conditional on ethnicity, region or political allegiance.

On the responsibility of leadership and the conduct of the inner circle

Why should your political associates and senior officials exercise public authority without meaningful accountability? If those around you encourage political violence, facilitate abuses or obstruct investigations, will you hold them to account regardless of their proximity to your office?

Why should public institutions protect political allies rather than investigate wrongdoing impartially?

If your government seeks national reconciliation, why do communities continue to experience exclusion, insecurity and distrust of the very institutions meant to protect them?

Does your government understand that a prime minister’s responsibility extends beyond issuing military orders or announcing development programmes? It includes ensuring that everyone who acts under the authority of the state respects the law and the dignity of citizens.

On regional belligerence, sovereignty and the failure of diplomacy

Why must Ethiopia’s relations with its neighbours repeatedly descend into hostile rhetoric, military posturing and mutual accusation when the country so badly needs regional cooperation, trade and peaceful coexistence?

Why should access to the sea become a source of confrontation with Eritrea when it could be pursued through bilateral agreement, negotiated port access, mutually beneficial arrangements and international mediation? Why not seek a durable agreement on the use of Assab that respects Eritrean sovereignty while protecting Ethiopia’s legitimate maritime and economic interests? Is a negotiated port-access agreement not preferable to the risk of another devastating war?

How can Ethiopia credibly claim leadership in African peace and diplomacy while its relations with its neighbours deteriorate? What example does that set for a continent whose collective security and development depend on cooperation?

Why has the presence of the African Union headquarters in Addis Ababa not become a greater asset for resolving regional disputes through African diplomacy? Should Ethiopia not be an exemplary advocate of negotiation, mediation and respect for the sovereignty of its neighbours?

On Sudan, regional escalation and the danger of another war

Why has Ethiopia become embroiled in serious accusations over Sudan’s civil war, including Khartoum’s allegation, which Addis Ababa denies, that Ethiopian territory has been used to launch drone attacks on Sudanese infrastructure? Why has the government not facilitated a fully transparent and independent examination of these claims?

What responsibility does Ethiopia bear for ensuring that its territory is not used by any armed faction to attack civilian infrastructure in a neighbouring country? Why should power stations, water systems and other essential civilian services become instruments of regional warfare?

If Ethiopia is committed to peaceful coexistence, why allow mutual accusations with Sudan, Eritrea and other neighbours to escalate without a sustained and transparent diplomatic process?

What strategic purpose would another regional war serve when Ethiopia has yet to resolve its internal conflicts, humanitarian emergencies and institutional weaknesses?

On the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam and the duties of national leadership

Is the government pursuing a coherent diplomatic strategy to protect the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD), its infrastructure and the national investment it represents? What safeguards exist against military escalation in the region?

Is there any credible evidence of a plan by a neighbouring state to attack the GERD, or of any Ethiopian plan to retaliate against another country’s infrastructure? If such claims circulate, why are they not addressed through evidence, diplomatic engagement and transparent security communication rather than speculation and inflammatory rhetoric?

What would it mean for Ethiopia to be drawn into simultaneous internal and external conflicts? Who would bear the economic, humanitarian and generational costs?

The final Socratic questions

If you claim to govern for the common good, how do you justify the suffering of citizens while peaceful political solutions remain possible?

If your government respects the constitution, why should those who exercise executive power be beyond effective accountability?

If your legacy is to be national transformation, which institutions will remain independent and functional after you leave office?

If you believe history will judge your leadership favourably, will you allow independent historians, journalists, judges and citizens to examine your decisions without intimidation or censorship?

And finally: if Ethiopia belongs to its people, why should the political survival of one administration take precedence over their security, freedom and dignity?

These are not questions of political rivalry. They are questions of justice, constitutional responsibility and the moral obligations of public office.

Socrates would insist that a ruler who claims wisdom must first show a willingness to be questioned. A leader who cannot tolerate examination cannot credibly claim to govern by reason. The fundamental question is not whether Abiy Ahmed can command obedience. It is whether his government can justify its exercise of power before the people whose lives and future it has been entrusted to protect.

Conclusion: the republic must reclaim the state

The militarisation of civilian life, the concentration of executive power and the weakening of independent institutions should not be treated as separate developments. They are interconnected questions about the character of the Ethiopian state.

The architecture of the uniform matters not because military dress is inherently threatening, but because it raises a more fundamental question about the governing philosophy being promoted. Is the country being run through professional civilian institutions, constitutional deliberation and public accountability — or, increasingly, through a political culture that prizes mobilisation, command and obedience?

The answer will shape Ethiopia’s future. A modern state needs a capable military, but it also needs an independent judiciary, a professional civil service, a free press, accountable security institutions, an effective legislature and a political culture in which disagreement is protected rather than feared. None of these may be reduced to an extension of executive authority.

The Ethiopian state must belong to its citizens, not to the government of the day. Its armed forces must defend the country, not a political personality. Its public institutions must serve the national interest, not the preservation of power.

Abiy Ahmed and his administration must ultimately be judged by the constitutional, institutional and human consequences of their rule.

“Ethiopia does not belong to Abiy Ahmed. It does not belong to the Prosperity Party. It belongs to its people.”

Nor does it belong to any ethnic, political or military establishment. The country does not need an establishment that mistakes obedience for unity, military discipline for civilian competence or political survival for national progress. It needs institutions that outlive their leaders, a constitution that restrains those who wield power, and a political order in which citizens can disagree without fearing the state.

Plato warned that the degeneration of political authority ultimately destroys the conditions of justice and freedom. Ethiopia must not allow the architecture of its republic to become the architecture of a garrison. The challenge is not simply to change those who govern, but to restore the principles by which government itself is governed. The state must reclaim its independence from political personalities, and the republic must reclaim its primacy over those who temporarily exercise power in its name.