By Endex, the Chief Editor, Ethiopian Tribune

I have been a journalist for many years. I have written obituaries for kings and eulogies for activists, reported on wars and chronicled elections. But there are moments in a writing life when the subject demands not a report, but a confession a piece written not from the head alone, but from the marrow of one’s own story. This is such a moment. And the man who demands it is Haile Gerima.

Let me begin where it truly begins for me: 1993. A small cinema tucked away off Portobello Road in West London. It is a blustery autumn evening, and I have been dragged there, there is no more honest word, by a university friend whose enthusiasm for Ethiopian cinema far exceeded my own. She told me that a professor and filmmaker named Haile Gerima had made a film about slavery. She told me he had mentored extraordinary talent. She told me he was one of ours. I confess I was not immediately convinced. But I went.

What happened inside that cinema changed something in me permanently.

A Revelation Off Portobello Road

The film was Sankofa. Named for the Ghanaian Akan word meaning ‘to go back, look for, and gain wisdom, power and hope’, it follows a Black American fashion model who undergoes a harrowing spiritual journey to a plantation in the antebellum American South. In lesser hands, this could have been melodrama, or worse, exploitation. In Gerima’s hands, it was something I had never encountered before in a cinema and have rarely encountered since: truth delivered with the full force of art.

I felt it from the opening frames. The visual language was unlike anything Hollywood had offered us raw yet luminous, poetic yet unflinching, expressionist in the way that only a filmmaker who has absorbed both African storytelling traditions and the radical energy of the American counter-cinema movement could achieve. Sankofa was formally ambitious to a degree that seemed almost reckless, and yet every choice was earned. When the drums sounded and the spirits of the enslaved rose from the floors of Cape Coast Castle, I was not watching a film. I was bearing witness.

The respect I felt rising in me during those two hours was immense, the kind of respect one cannot manufacture or perform. It came from recognising craftsmanship of the highest order in service of a moral imperative that could not be ignored. Here was a man who had spent twenty years researching the trans-Atlantic slave trade, who had been rejected by every major American distributor, and who had taken his film city by city, cinema by cinema, to Black communities across the United States until the world had no choice but to take notice. The film that no one would distribute was eventually ranked by Harvard Film Studies professors as one of the most essential films in the history of world cinema between 1980 and 2000. But that evening in Notting Hill, I knew none of this. I only knew what I felt.

When he stepped onto the stage for the Q&A, the room shifted. Here was my fellow countryman, standing with grace and quiet dignity and I felt, for the first time in a long while, the particular pride of shared origin.

He spoke about the sacrifices behind the work. He spoke with a candour that was electrifying, and at moments heartbreaking the years of fundraising, the rejections, the loneliness of making films that the industry did not want, the determination to carry stories that others feared to touch. I remember sitting very still. It was the kind of stillness that falls over you when you are in the presence of something authentic. He was not performing humility. He simply had the ease of a man who had decided, long ago, what he was for and had never wavered.

I left that cinema altered. I had gone in knowing almost nothing about Haile Gerima. I came out knowing that I would follow his work for the rest of my life.

Born in Gondar, Shaped by the World

To understand Haile Gerima is to understand where he came from. He was born on 4 March 1946 in Gondar a city of ancient castles and highland winds in northern Ethiopia, a place that carries centuries of royal history in its very stones. His father was a playwright and dramatist who toured the Ethiopian countryside staging local theatre; his mother was a teacher. The house he grew up in was saturated with storytelling, with the Amharic oral tradition, with the fierce independence of a people who had never been colonised, not fully, not finally and who knew it.

In 1967, at twenty-one, he left for the United States first to study drama at the Goodman School in Chicago, then to the University of California, Los Angeles, where he would discover the cinema that would become his weapon and his calling. At UCLA, he fell in with an extraordinary cohort of Black, Chicano, Asian, and international students who collectively refused the grammar of Hollywood. They formed what would later be known as the L.A. Rebellion, a movement that sought to build an entirely alternative, politically conscious, aesthetically radical Black American cinema. Haile Gerima is one of its most towering figures.

His early films announced him immediately. Harvest: 3,000 Years, made in Ethiopia in 1975, won the Grand Prize at the Locarno Film Festival. Bush Mama, made the following year, was a searing portrait of Black poverty and resistance in Los Angeles. Ashes and Embers followed in 1982, winning awards in Lisbon and earning recognition at the Berlinale. Each film was stamping his name deeper into the conscience of world cinema, even as mainstream Hollywood looked the other way.

A Question at SOAS, and an Answer That Stayed With Me

Some years after that first encounter in Notting Hill, I saw him again, this time at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, at the premiere of his documentary Adwa. The film concerned the extraordinary Battle of Adwa in 1896, when Ethiopian forces under Emperor Menelik II defeated the Italian colonial army in one of the most significant military victories in African history: the first time an African nation had routed a European colonial power on the battlefield.

I was curious about the funding. The film, I had learned, had received Italian backing. This troubled me in a way I could not entirely articulate. Italy was the defeated party. Italy was, in the deepest sense, the villain of the story. Why had Gerima accepted their money? Was there not a risk, however subtle, of the narrative being shaped by the very power whose humiliation it documented?

I put the question to him after the screening. His answer was simple, disarming, and utterly characteristic of the man: no one else had been willing to finance it. The Ethiopian government had not come forward. The international co-production community had not come forward. The Italians had. And so he had taken their money, looked them calmly in the eye, and made a film that placed Ethiopia’s resistance and pride at its absolute centre, a film grounded in historical truth and the testimonies of those who had fought, refusing to soften a single frame of what Italy’s colonialism had meant.

He had taken the coloniser’s resources and turned them into a monument to the colonised. This is a particular kind of genius political, artistic, moral.

I walked away from SOAS that evening with a deeper understanding of what it means to operate without institutional support, without the safety net of a nation-state willing to fund its own history. Gerima had not waited. He had never waited. He had found whatever resource was available and bent it to the service of truth. This, I came to understand, was the defining characteristic of his entire career.

Teza, and the Courage to Look Inward

When Teza arrived in 2008, his first feature in nearly a decade, it felt like a homecoming of the most complicated kind. The film is a profoundly personal and politically courageous work, following an Ethiopian intellectual who returns home from Germany during the brutal era of the Derg military junta. It is a film about the particular tragedy of the educated African who goes abroad seeking knowledge and returns to find his country transformed into a place of terror, where the very idealism that drove him away has been weaponised into something monstrous.

Haile Gerima did not flinch from the darkness of the Mengistu era, the Red Terror, the disappearances, the way in which revolutionary rhetoric had curdled into authoritarian nightmare. Nor did he retreat into sentimentality. Teza is a film of extraordinary compassion and equally extraordinary rigour. It won the Special Jury Prize and the Best Screenplay Award at the Venice Film Festival. It won the Golden Tanit and four additional awards at the Carthage Film Festival. It won the Golden Stallion of Yennenga at FESPACO. The world’s cinema community recognised what Ethiopian audiences had perhaps always known: that here was a filmmaker who loved his country enough to tell it the truth.

When he brought Teza to London, I was in the audience again, older now, a consultant and chief editor rather than a young journalist, but feeling once more that particular stillness of being in the presence of authentic work. Gerima had done it again. He had refused to make the comfortable film, the redemptive arc that tidies everything up. He had insisted on the full weight of history, and the audience bore it willingly, because he had earned our trust.

Thirty Years in the Making: Black Lions – Roman Wolves

And now, in February 2026, as the lights of the 76th Berlin International Film Festival fall upon him, Haile Gerima has completed perhaps the most monumental work of his extraordinary life.

Black Lions – Roman Wolves is nearly nine hours long. It took thirty years to make. It is a reckoning, vast, meticulous, and unsparing with Italy’s brutal colonial campaign against Ethiopia. Drawing on archival footage that Italian filmmakers, at Mussolini’s direction, meticulously recorded during the 1935 invasion, and combining it with contemporary interviews with eyewitnesses and descendants of those who fought, Gerima has built an epic from the coloniser’s own images, turning them against the ideology that created them.

The paradox was not lost on him. At the Q&A following the Berlin premiere, he spoke of it with characteristic directness: his people had not filmed. The Italians had. And so he took those images racist in their framing, propagandistic in their intent, and asked a radical question: how can I use the image depicted by the coloniser against itself? The answer, running to nine hours and screened in two parts across consecutive days at the Delphi Filmpalast, is his most sustained and audacious work to date.

He told the packed Berlin audience that he had begun the project in 1996, fed up with what he called the ‘fake history’ of Italy’s Ethiopian campaign the selective memory, the glossing over of mustard gas attacks, of massacres, of the systematic attempt to humiliate and subjugate a proud nation. He had been raised, as he put it, under the miseducation of the British education system that followed the Italian war, and he had never forgotten what that meant: to have the story of your own people’s suffering filtered through the lens of those who had caused it.

He had spent thirty years correcting that record. Thirty years giving the barefoot soldiers of Ethiopia their voices back.

The Berlinale Camera: A Recognition Long Overdue

On 17 February 2026, at four o’clock in the afternoon, in the grand hall of the Delphi Filmpalast, the Berlin International Film Festival presented Haile Gerima with the Berlinale Camera, the festival’s honorary award, given since 1986 to individuals who have made outstanding contributions to cinema and with whom the Berlinale feels a special and enduring connection.

The award itself is a remarkable object: crafted by Düsseldorf goldsmith Georg Hornemann, it is assembled from 128 individual components into the form of a real film camera. It is, in its way, a perfect symbol for what Gerima has built, piece by piece, film by film, year by year, into a body of work that has transformed not merely African cinema, but the global conversation about colonialism, memory, and resistance.

Berlinale Director Tricia Tuttle said it with admirable precision when she announced the award: Gerima’s works bear witness to histories marked by oppression, resistance, and the unfinished work of decolonisation stories that speak with urgent force to the world today. It is an honour to present the Berlinale Camera to a filmmaker who has transformed the way so many understand the world.

For those of us who have followed him for decades who sat in a small London cinema in 1993 and felt something shift inside us this recognition carries a particular weight. Not because we needed the Berlinale’s validation to understand Gerima’s greatness. We never did. But because there is something profoundly moving about watching the world finally, formally, say: yes. We see him. We always should have.

Teacher, Builder, Cultural Keeper

No account of Haile Gerima is complete without speaking of the life he has built beyond the camera. Since 1975, for more than half a century, he has taught film at Howard University in Washington, D.C., where he holds the title of Professor Emeritus. He has mentored hundreds of young filmmakers from Africa, the Caribbean, and the African-American diaspora, insisting to each of them that their stories matter, that their voices are necessary, that the industry’s indifference is not a verdict but an invitation to build something better.

With his wife and fellow filmmaker Shirikiana Aina Gerima, he founded Mypheduh Films, a distribution company dedicated to ensuring that independent African cinema reaches audiences without surrendering to the gatekeepers of the mainstream. In 1996, they opened Sankofa Video, Books & Café in Washington a cultural institution offering film screenings, book signings, community discussions, and a physical space for the kind of intellectual life that sustains a people’s sense of themselves. That café has been sustained, in no small part, by the revenue from Gerima’s own films, self-distributed with the same grassroots determination he has brought to every project.

He is not merely a filmmaker. He is an ecosystem of resistance. He built the conditions in which the next generation of African storytellers could imagine themselves.

What He Carried And What He Gave Back

There is a word in the Ghanaian Akan language sankofa that Gerima made the title of his most celebrated film. It means, at its most literal, to go back and retrieve. It is often symbolised by a bird flying forwards whilst its head looks back. It speaks of the necessity of understanding where you have come from in order to know where you are going.

Haile Gerima has lived this word. He left Gondar as a young man, carrying the landscape and the stories of his highland childhood into the lecture halls of Chicago and the film schools of Los Angeles. He carried the memory of his father’s plays into the grammar of his own cinema. He carried the defeats and the dignities of Ethiopian history, the Italian occupation, the Derg’s terror, the Battle of Adwa, into works that ensured that those events would not be forgotten, not be distorted, not be claimed by anyone but those who lived them.

And he gave it all back. Every film is a gift to Ethiopia, to Africa, to the African diaspora, to anyone who has ever had their history stolen and replaced with someone else’s version. Every student he trained is a continuation of this act of giving.

Watching him receive the Berlinale Camera alongside his old comrade Charles Burnett, the two old warriors of the L.A. Rebellion, grey now, unhurried, utterly undiminished felt less like a prize ceremony and more like a moment of profound historical reckoning. The industry that once ignored them was now placing golden cameras in their hands. I suspect Gerima found some quiet satisfaction in that. I suspect he also found it, in some deep part of himself, beside the point. The work was always the point.

Haile Gerima has never simply made films.

He has made memory.

He has made resistance.

He has made truth visible.

And for those of us who first met him in a darkened cinema in London, who felt something change inside us as his images unfolded and his voice filled the room — he has made something rarer still.

He has made pride. Deep, resonant, enduring pride.

May his lens never rest.

Endex, Chief Editor, Ethiopian Tribune

London, 20 February 2026

The Ethiopian Tribune celebrates Ethiopian excellence in arts, culture, politics, and society.

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An investigation into how Jeffrey Epstein’s tentacles reached Ethiopia, and what it reveals about power, complicity, and the global reckoning with sexual predation

By E Frashie Ethiopian Tribune Columnist

In the grand tradition of British scandals involving the powerful and the predatory, the Jeffrey Epstein affair has proven to be the gift that keeps on giving—or rather, taking. As the US Department of Justice released millions of documents related to the convicted sex trafficker and financier, Britons watched with grim familiarity as two of their own, Lord Peter Mandelson and Prince Andrew, found themselves ensnared in the lengthening shadow of Epstein’s crimes. For Ethiopians and East Africans, however, the revelations have taken on a peculiar local dimension: their country appears in approximately 334 of the released documents, raising uncomfortable questions about who knew what, and when.

The British experience offers a cautionary tale. Lord Mandelson, the Labour grandee and former EU trade commissioner, has faced renewed scrutiny over his association with Epstein, leading to swift rejection of his potential appointment as US ambassador and intense public opprobrium. Prince Andrew, the Duke of York, has become a pariah within his own family, stripped of royal duties and forced to settle a civil sexual abuse case brought by Virginia Giuffre for a reported £12 million. Both men’s falls from grace illustrate a crucial shift in public tolerance: proximity to a convicted paedophile is no longer merely unfortunate it is damning.

For Ethiopia, a nation already grappling with internal conflicts, economic challenges, and questions of governance, the Epstein connection represents yet another unwelcome international embarrassment. But it also raises profound questions about how predators like Epstein exploited developing nations, and whether enough is being done to investigate his network in Africa.

Britain’s reckoning with the Epstein scandal has been particularly visceral, perhaps because it touches upon enduring anxieties about privilege, power, and paedophilia within the establishment. Lord Mandelson’s association with Epstein reportedly introduced through mutual connections in elite circles—has proven politically toxic. Despite his protestations that he had no knowledge of Epstein’s crimes during their acquaintance, the court of public opinion has rendered its verdict. His nomination as ambassador to Washington was effectively dead on arrival, with both Conservative and Labour figures expressing alarm.

The Mandelson affair echoes the Prince Andrew debacle but with notable differences. Whilst Andrew’s relationship with Epstein was documented through photographs, flight logs, and eventually legal testimony, Mandelson’s connection appears more tangential, dinners, social gatherings, the sort of networking that defines elite circles. Yet in the post-Epstein era, such distinctions matter less than they once might have. The question is no longer “Did you know?” but “Should you have known?” and increasingly, “Why didn’t you ask?”

Prince Andrew’s trajectory from the Queen’s favourite son to virtual exile illustrates the mechanism of social rejection in real time. The now-infamous BBC Newsnight interview in November 2019, in which he claimed he couldn’t have been at a nightclub with Virginia Giuffre because he was at Pizza Express in Woking and suffered from a medical condition preventing him from sweating, became a masterclass in self-immolation. Public revulsion was swift and comprehensive. Corporate sponsors fled. Charities distanced themselves. The military stripped him of honorary titles.

What united both men’s downfalls was their association with a man whose crimes were, by 2008, a matter of public record. Epstein’s initial conviction for soliciting prostitution from a minor, a sweetheart plea deal that saw him serve just 13 months, should have ended his social acceptability. That it didn’t speaks to the power of wealth, influence, and the willingness of elites to overlook uncomfortable truths.

Epstein’s 2019 arrest on federal charges of sex trafficking minors and his subsequent death by apparent suicide in a Manhattan jail cell merely confirmed what investigators had long suspected: his earlier conviction represented only a fraction of his crimes. The subsequent releases of court documents, flight logs from his private jet (dubbed the “Lolita Express”), and now the DOJ files have painted a portrait of industrial-scale sexual exploitation involving girls as young as 14.

Yet the released documents reveal something far more disturbing than the already horrific sex trafficking operation. Buried within thousands of pages are references to Epstein’s fascination with eugenics, transhumanism, and what can only be described as a God complex that would make Lucifer himself envious. Witnesses and associates described Epstein’s interest in using his New Mexico ranch to seed the human race with his DNA, impregnating multiple women to create a “superior” bloodline a scheme that echoes the darkest chapters of 20th-century pseudoscience.

The files contain disturbing allegations that extend beyond sexual abuse into territory that seems almost mediaeval in its barbarity. Court testimonies reference Epstein’s circle discussing practices that blur the line between scientific experimentation and occult ritual. One particularly harrowing account describes conversations about cellular regeneration theories and the procurement of biological materials from young victims allegations that, whilst unproven in court, paint a portrait of a man whose depravity knew no bounds.

Whether these represent literal truths or the exaggerations of traumatised witnesses struggling to articulate unspeakable experiences, they underscore a crucial point: Jeffrey Epstein was not merely a sex offender but a man who believed himself above natural and moral law. His interest in cutting-edge science, from artificial intelligence to genetics, was inseparable from his conviction that wealth and intellect entitled him to treat human beings, particularly young girls, as experimental subjects. This, then, was the “Lucifer” that Professor Berhanu Nega might have unwittingly invoked.

The revelation that Berhanu Nega, now Ethiopia’s Minister of Education, received scholarship funding from Jeffrey Epstein takes on an almost prophetic irony given the professor’s own public statements. During his years in opposition to the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) government, Nega famously declared that he would “work with Lucifer himself” if it meant overthrowing the regime he despised.

It was not mere rhetoric. Nega’s political journey has been one of scorched-earth pragmatism. Having left the United States, where he held academic positions, he took the extraordinary step of accepting Eritrean citizenship to wage an armed insurgency against the Ethiopian government. His organisation, Ginbot 7, launched attacks from Eritrean territory, making common cause with one of Africa’s most repressive regimes a government that has held no elections since independence in 1993 and operates what human rights organisations have described as an open-air prison.

The insurgency failed militarily but succeeded in keeping Nega relevant. When Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed came to power in 2018, Nega was among the formerly exiled opposition figures welcomed back to Addis Ababa. His transformation from armed rebel to Minister of Education was swift and, to many observers, bewildering. That he now oversees the education of Ethiopia’s children whilst having received funding from a convicted paedophile strikes many Ethiopians as a cosmic joke in exceptionally poor taste.

Nega has maintained that he had no knowledge of Epstein’s crimes when he received the scholarship funding in the early 2000s. This is plausible, Epstein’s 2008 conviction came later, and his ability to maintain a veneer of respectability amongst academics was well-documented. Yet the symbolic resonance remains inescapable: a man who vowed to work with Lucifer did, in fact, accept money from perhaps the closest thing to a living embodiment of evil that modern America has produced.

The question now confronting Nega and the Ethiopian government is whether historical ignorance absolves present responsibility. Should a Minister of Education, responsible for safeguarding children, remain in post whilst associated, however tangentially, with the world’s most notorious child sex trafficker?

The Epstein connection to Ethiopia becomes more disturbing when examined alongside recent developments in the country’s digital infrastructure. According to documents circulating amongst civil liberties advocates and technology researchers, the Ethiopian government has harvested DNA and biometric data from approximately five million children as part of a digital identity programme. The initiative, ostensibly designed to improve access to education and health services, has raised alarm bells amongst data protection experts.

What transforms this from a concerning privacy issue into a potential Epstein connection is the funding architecture. Investigative journalists have identified links between the biometric programme and funding arrangements involving entities connected to Epstein’s network of technology investments. Moreover, contracts with United Arab Emirates-based businesses, some of which appear in the periphery of the Epstein files, suggest a complex web of financial relationships that demand scrutiny.

The UAE connection is particularly troubling. Epstein maintained extensive business relationships in the Gulf states, where privacy laws and less stringent regulatory oversight provided convenient cover for questionable transactions. That Ethiopian government contracts for biometric data collection involving children might flow through similar channels raises urgent questions.

To be clear: there is no evidence of direct Epstein involvement in Ethiopia’s digital ID programme, which postdates his death. But the pattern is familiar developing nations desperate for technological advancement and foreign investment, complex funding arrangements involving offshore entities, and programmes that collect sensitive biological data from vulnerable populations. These are precisely the conditions that predators like Epstein exploited.

The collection of children’s DNA in particular evokes Epstein’s documented fascination with genetics and eugenics. His stated desire to “seed the human race” with his genetic material, his funding of research into human longevity and enhancement, and his connections to the transhumanist movement all suggest a man obsessed with biological manipulation on a grand scale.

For five million Ethiopian children to have their genetic information collected and stored in databases accessible to foreign contractors recalls the darkest elements of the Epstein files. What safeguards exist to prevent this data being sold, shared, or exploited? Who has access? What purposes, beyond the stated administrative ones, might it serve?

These questions acquire particular urgency given Ethiopia’s political instability and history of surveillance. The EPRDF government, which Nega spent years fighting, was notorious for its extensive security apparatus. The current government under Abiy Ahmed has shown little inclination toward greater transparency or respect for privacy rights. The Tigray conflict demonstrated the willingness to use technology, including telecommunications shutdowns, as weapons of war.

The majority of Ethiopian references in the released documents relate to market intelligence reports that Epstein commissioned from consultants, suggesting he had, or was considering, investments in the country. One confirmed investment was iCog Labs, an artificial intelligence research laboratory co-founded by Ben Goertzel, a prominent AI researcher, and Getnet Aseffa. The emails reveal Goertzel’s energetic cultivation of Epstein as a funder, with repeated assurances that “the guys” in Ethiopia were doing “amazing things”, the sort of vague enthusiasm that signals either genuine excitement or, more cynically, the massaging of a wealthy patron’s ego.

The iCog Labs connection is particularly relevant because it illustrates Epstein’s modus operandi in respectable society. By positioning himself as a patron of cutting-edge scientific research, he also funded Harvard University’s Programme for Evolutionary Dynamics and MIT’s Media Lab, Epstein purchased legitimacy. Scientists and academics who accepted his funding found themselves in an impossible position after his crimes became undeniable: return the money and acknowledge poor judgment, or keep it and face accusations of complicity.

Given Epstein’s documented interest in artificial intelligence, genetics, and human enhancement, his funding of an AI laboratory in Ethiopia takes on sinister overtones. Was this genuine philanthropic interest in African technological development, or was Ethiopia, with its limited regulatory oversight and desperate need for investment, an attractive location for research that might face ethical objections elsewhere?

More colourful, if less consequential, are the emails from Shaher Abdulhak, a Yemeni billionaire who died in 2020 and who addressed Epstein as “cousin brother” a term of endearment that sounds rather less charming in English than presumably intended. Abdulhak’s pitches to Epstein included the gloriously ill-conceived idea of creating an energy drink from khat (a stimulant plant chewed across the Horn of Africa and Yemen) mixed with lemon juice to compete with Red Bull.

More seriously, Abdulhak sought a $20 million loan for National Tobacco Enterprise Ethiopia, claiming his Sheba Investment Company owned 60% of it. Whether Epstein provided the funds remains unclear, though the brazen nature of the request speaks to the casual corruption that characterised elite interactions with the financier.

Buried in the correspondence is one email that transforms the Ethiopian connection from merely embarrassing to potentially sinister. In a message apparently sent to Abdulhak, Epstein mentioned that a “good friend who runs a modelling agency” believed there were “interesting girls” in Ethiopia.

In isolation, this phrase might be innocuous. In context, an email from a convicted sex offender who trafficked underage girls internationally, it becomes chilling. The term “interesting girls” echoes the euphemistic language Epstein and his associates used to discuss recruitment of victims. Modelling agencies, legitimate and otherwise, have long been identified as potential vectors for exploitation, offering young women from impoverished backgrounds promises of international careers whilst potentially exposing them to abuse.

Court documents from Epstein’s trials reveal a recruitment pattern that was both systematic and global. Victims were often approached through seemingly legitimate channels, modelling scouts, educational programmes, employment opportunities, before being groomed and trafficked. The operation relied on local recruiters who understood cultural contexts and could identify vulnerable targets.

Ethiopia, with its poverty, limited opportunities for young women, and a culture where deference to wealthy foreigners remains common, would have been an ideal hunting ground. That Epstein’s private jet received permission to land in Ethiopia, and that he mentioned visiting the country in correspondence with Steve Bannon, confirms he had physical presence there.

There is no direct evidence in the released documents that Epstein trafficked Ethiopian girls or engaged in criminal conduct within Ethiopia. But the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, particularly when so much of Epstein’s operation was deliberately hidden. Victims have described being trafficked to numerous countries, being flown on his private jets to locations where their passports were confiscated and they were kept in conditions resembling sexual slavery.

For Ethiopian law enforcement and civil society, these revelations demand investigation. If Epstein visited Ethiopia, whom did he meet? Were any young Ethiopian women recruited through his network? Did any of his associates, the modelling agency friend, for instance, operate in the country?

The reaction amongst Ethiopians and East Africans to the Epstein revelations has been complex, reflecting broader ambivalences about corruption, foreign influence, and accountability. On social media and in diaspora communities, there is genuine anger, not merely at Epstein, but at the Ethiopian individuals and institutions that enabled his presence.

The revelation about Berhanu Nega has proven particularly divisive. His supporters argue that accepting scholarship funding from Epstein over two decades ago, before the full extent of his crimes was publicly known, represents an unfortunate association rather than complicity. His critics counter that a man who vowed to work with Lucifer cannot now claim shock at having done precisely that.

The controversy has reignited broader questions about Nega’s judgment and principles. His acceptance of Eritrean citizenship to fight Ethiopia, making common cause with a regime at least as repressive as the EPRDF he opposed, already raised eyebrows. His seamless transition from armed insurgent to government minister suggested a pragmatism that borders on opportunism. The Epstein connection adds another troubling layer.

Yet there is also a strain of fatalism in East African responses, a sense that corruption and exploitation by wealthy foreigners is simply business as usual. Ethiopia has long experience with foreign actors from colonial powers to modern corporations and NGOs extracting value whilst leaving minimal benefit. In this reading, Epstein is merely the latest in a long line of predators, and focusing on him distracts from structural problems.

This cynicism, whilst understandable, is dangerous. It normalises exploitation and discourages the accountability mechanisms necessary to prevent future abuses. The global reckoning with Epstein’s crimes has demonstrated that exposure and prosecution are possible, albeit belatedly.

The convergence of Epstein’s eugenic obsessions with Ethiopia’s biometric data collection programme represents a thoroughly modern nightmare. Epstein’s interest in “improving” the human race through selective breeding was, at least in his expressed ambitions, constrained by biology how many women could he impregnate? But contemporary genetic databases and artificial intelligence offer possibilities that would have seemed like science fiction even a decade ago.

The five million Ethiopian children whose DNA has been harvested now exist as data points in systems whose full capabilities and access protocols remain opaque. In the wrong hands, such databases could enable precisely the sort of genetic manipulation and selection that Epstein fantasised about. Even in benign hands, the data represents extraordinary value pharmaceutical companies pay enormous sums for genetic information from diverse populations.

That contracts related to this programme involve UAE-based entities with peripheral connections to Epstein’s network may be coincidental. But given the pattern of Epstein’s investments, artificial intelligence in Ethiopia, genetic research globally, transhumanist projects, the possibility of intentional targeting cannot be dismissed.

The Ethiopian government’s response to questions about data security has been, at best, inadequate. Officials tout the benefits of digital identity whilst providing few details about encryption, access controls, or international data-sharing agreements. For a government that has demonstrated willingness to use technology repressively, and which employs a Minister of Education who received funding from a paedophile eugenicist, assurances ring hollow.

What the Epstein files ultimately reveal, whether the references are to Britain, Ethiopia, or the dozens of other jurisdictions touched by his crimes, is the banality of elite evil. Epstein was not a Bond villain operating from a secret lair. He was a fixture of respectable society, funding university departments, advising the wealthy, socialising with princes and presidents.

His crimes were enabled not by exotic conspiracy but by the mundane mechanisms of wealth and power: the assumption that rich men deserve privacy, the reluctance to ask awkward questions of generous donors, the willingness to overlook earlier convictions in exchange for access and funding.

For Ethiopia, the lessons are particularly stark. When Professor Berhanu Nega vowed to work with Lucifer himself to achieve his political aims, he articulated a principle, that ends justify means, which is fundamentally corrupting. Whether he knowingly accepted money from a monster is less important than his demonstrated willingness to do so. That such a man now oversees the education of Ethiopia’s children, whilst his government harvests their genetic data through murky international contracts, should alarm anyone concerned with child welfare.

The parallels with Britain’s experience are instructive. Lord Mandelson and Prince Andrew discovered that wealth, title, and power provide no immunity from public judgment when the crimes are sufficiently heinous and the association sufficiently close. Both have been effectively exiled from polite society, their legacies permanently tarnished.

Ethiopian figures connected to Epstein deserve similar scrutiny. The fact that Ethiopia is poorer than Britain, that its media infrastructure is weaker, that competing crises demand attention none of these absolve the moral responsibility to investigate and, where appropriate, demand accountability.

As more files are released and investigations continue, the full extent of Epstein’s Ethiopian connections may become clearer. For now, Ethiopians are left with uncomfortable questions, partial answers, and the knowledge that their country appeared on the radar of one of history’s most prolific sexual predators a man whose interests in genetics, artificial intelligence, and young girls may have found fertile ground in a nation desperate for investment and incapable of effective oversight.

If Berhanu Nega truly made a Faustian bargain, working with his Lucifer to achieve power, the devil has certainly had his due. The question now is whether Ethiopia’s children will pay the price for their elders’ moral compromises. With five million of them reduced to data points in databases connected, however tenuously, to a dead paedophile’s trans humanist fantasies, the answer may already be written in code we’ve yet to fully decrypt.

The Ethiopian Tribune continues to investigate the Epstein files and welcomes information from readers regarding any connections between Epstein’s network and activities in the Horn of Africa. We particularly seek information about the biometric data collection programme, its funding sources, and its international partnerships.

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በጋሻው አደመ

ኢትዮጵያ ልዕልናዋን፣ ክብሯን፣ ህልው ምግባሯን በጀግኖቿ ተጋድሎና በመስዋዕትነት ያጸናች ሀገር ናት።

ኢትዮጵያ ከታሪካዊ ጠላቶቿ መንጋጋ የወጣችባቸው የዘመን ሽራፊ አሻራዎች እንደሚነግሩን በየጊዜው ጊዜ የማይሽረው የታሪክ ጉልላት መሠራቱን ነው።

የድል ታሪኮቿ ኹሉ በ‘ዕድል’ የተገኙ ሳይኾኑ ኢትዮጵያዊነት ወኔንና ጀግነትን በታጠቁ ክንደ-ብርቱ ልጆቿ የተገኙ ስለመኾናቸው ታሪክ ምስክር ነው።

የጥቁር ሕዝቦች ኹሉ የነጻነት መስታዎት የዓድዋ ጦርነት የነጻነት ድል ታሪክ፣ እብሪተኛው ዚያድ ባሬ ድል የተደረገበት የካራማራው ጦርነት የድል ታሪክ የተገኘው በዕድል አልነበረም።

ፋሽስት ጣሊያን በ1888 ዓ.ም አድዋ ተራሮች ስር እርም በልታ ብትመለስም ከ40 ዓመታት በኋላ ግን እረመ-ቢስ ኾና የበቀል ስሌት ሰንዳ ለዳግም ወረራ መጣች። የሽንፈት ካባዋን ልታወልቅ፣ የበቀል በትሯን አነሳች። እኒያን የአድዋ ልጆች አደብ ልታስገዛ፣ ያችን የጥቁር ሕዝቦች ኹሉ ተምሳሌት ሀገር ልትረግጥ ወረራ ፈጸመች፤ በ1928 ዓ.ም።

ይኽ ድርጊቷም ቀድሞውንም በሀገራቸው ኅልውና ሰንፈው የማያውቁት ጀግኖችን ለሀገር ክብርና ልዕልና ተጋድሎ ቀሰቀሰ፤ የአርበኝነቱ ምዕራፍ ተጀመረ።

በዚያ የአርበኝነት ዘመን እነማን ነበሩ?

ጣሊያን በዳግም ወረራዋ ኢትዮጵያ ላይ ጦርነት ስትከፍት የሀገርን ኅልውናና ልዕልና ለማስጠበቅ ወኔ የከዳው አልነበረም ማለት ይቻላል።

ስለ የኢትዮጵያውያን አርበኝነት ገድል ስናወሳ የሴት አርበኞችን ሚና ማስታወስ ተገቢ ነው።

በእውቀቱ ስዩም ከአሜን ባሻገር መጽሐፉ “ሴቶች በዋሉበት” በሚል አርእስት ባሰፈረው ሃሳብ የሴቶችን በየዘመኑ ኹሉን አቀፍ አበርክቶ አብራርቷል።

በእውቀቱ እንደሚለው የሴቶች የድል በረከት “ከጓዳ እስከ አውደ ግንባር” ሚዛኑ ከባድ ነው። ሴቶች በጦርነት ወቅት ምግብ ያቀርባሉ፣ ሃሳብ ያቀርባሉ፤ ወኔ ያስታጥቃሉ፤ ጥይት ያቀብላሉ፤ ታጥቀው ያዋጋሉ፤ ይዋጋሉ። በዚኽም ለሀገር ክብርና ልእልና በሚደረግ ተጋድሎ ያስቀመጡት አሻራ ታሪክ የሚዘነጋው አይደለም።

“…እናንተም ወዲህ ኑ እኛም
እንመጣለን
አረበረከቴ ላይ እንገናኝ፡፡ …

ምናባቱ ፋሽስት፣
ፋሽስት ምናባቱ፣
እንወጋዋለን በገዛ ብረቱ፤”

ይህ ግጥም ጀግኖችን የፈጠረ፣ የይቻላል ስነ-ልቦናን የገነባ፣ የጀግና ደንቡን ጥሪ ያስተጋባ፣ የቁርጥ ቀን አለኝታዎችን ያሰባሰበ፣ የጀግኖች አርበኞች ድምጽ በመኾን አገልግሏል።

በአርበኝነት ዘመኑ የተጋድሎ ታሪክ ሲወሳ ስማቸው ከፍ ብሎ የሚነሳ እልፍ ጀግኖች አሉ።

የጎጃሙን አባ ኮስትር በላይ ዘለቀን ስናነሳ – የሸዋዋን ቅምጥል ሸዋረገድ ገድሌን አንዘነጋም። የሸዋውን አይደፈሬ ራስ አበበ አረጋይን ስናወሳ – “አምሳለ- ጣይቱ” የሚባልላትን አርበኛዋን ልዕልት ከበደች ሥዩምን አንዘነጋም።

በሰሜን የማይጨው ግንባር ከዘመቱት ሴቶች መካከል ከአርሶ አደር ቤተሰብ እስከ ልዕልቶቱ ይገኙባቸዋል፡፡

“አፍሪካና ሁለተኛው የዓለም ጦርነት” በሚል ርዕስ በአሜሪካ ካምብሪጅ ፕሬስ በታተመ የጥናት መድበል ውስጥ ዶክተር ኀይሉ ሀብቱ ፋሽስቱን የተዋጉ የኢትዮጵያ ሀገር ወዳድ ጀግና ሴችን የቃኙበት ጥናት ተጠቃሽ ነው።

በዚህ ጥናታዊ ዳሰሳ ከተጠቀሱ ሴቶች መካከልም ወይዘሮ ዘነበች ወልደየስ ባለቤታቸውን ተከትለው የዘመቱት አርበኛ ከአርሶ አደር ቤተሰብ የተገኙ ናቸው ይሉናል።

ሌላዋ ዘማች ልዕልት ሮማንወርቅ ኃይለሥላሴ ከባለቤታቸው ከባሌው ገዢ ጋር አብረው ዘምተዋል።

ከባላቸውና ከልጃቸው ጋር የዘመቱት አርበኛዋ ወይዘሮ ልክየለሽ በያን በፋሺስት ጣሊያን ወረራ ጊዜ ባለቤታቸው ሰማዕትነትን ሲቀበሉ ያዩትንና እሳቸው የፈጸሙትን ጀብዱ ደግሞ ፀሐይ ብርሃነ ሥላሴ “ኖርዝኢስት አፍሪካን ስተዲስ” ባሳተመው መድብል ውስጥ “ሽምቅ ተዋጊ ሴቶች” በሚለው መጣጥፋቸው ገልጸውታል፡፡

አርበኝነት በየዘርፉ

ፋሽት ጣሊያን ባሕር ተሻግሮ ድምበር ጥሶ የኢትዮጵያን ሉዓላዊነት ሲዳፈር ጀግና ሀገር ወዳድ ሁሉ ግምባር የዘመተው በየፊናው ነበር።

ከትጥቅ እስከ ስንቅ፣ ከሥነ-ልቦና ግንባታ እሰከ ሕክምና ሴቶችም ተሳትፈዋል።

ጦር ግንባር ድረስ በመሄድ ተዋጊው የሀገር ጀግና በቆሰለ ጊዜ ደሙን አጥበው፣ የተገኘውን የሀገር ባሕል መድኃኒት አድርገው፣ መግበውና ውኃ አጠጥተው ያድናሉ፡፡

በሕክምናው በኩል ወይዘሮ ስንዱ ገብሩ እና ወይዘሮ ጽጌ መንገሻ ተጠቃሽ መኾናቸውን ታሪክ ሰንዷል፡፡

ለዚኽም ‹‹ኢጣልያ በኢትዮጵያ – ከወልወል እስከ ጎንደር›› የተሰኘውን የተድላ ዘገየን መጽሐፍ ልብ ይሏል።

ክብር ለኢትዮጵያ አርበኞች!

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Sourced by Asrat keregne

ጠቅላይ ሚኒስትር ጸሐፌ ትዕዛዝ አክሊሉ ኃብተወልድ ፣ በአለም የፖለቲካ መድረክ ኢትዮጵያን በከፍተኛ ደረጃ ያስተዋወቁ ፣ ብሔራዊ ጥቅሟንና የግዛት ሉአላዊነቷን ያስጠበቁ ፣ ከነበሩን ትላልቅ ነፍሳት መሀከል አንዱ ነበሩ። ምሥጋና ላይ በአያሌው ቁጥብ መሆናቸው የሚነገርላቸው ፕሮፌሰር መስፍን ፣ መጨረሻ ባሳተሙት መጽሐፋቸው “…ከ 1960 ዓ.ም በሁዋላ ያለውን የኢትዮጵያ ታሪክ አቅጣጫ የለወጡ አንድ ጸሐፊ ትእዛዝ አክሊሉ ኃብተወልድ ናቸዉ።

አክሊሉ ኃብተወልድ የውጭ ጉዳይ ሚኒስትር ፣ ጠቅላይ ሚኒስትር ፣ ጸሐፌ ትእዛዝ ነበሩ። ከሁሉም በላይ በነጮች ዘረኛነት ዘመን ፣ የጥቁር ድምጽ በማይሰማበት ወቅት በተባበሩት መንግሥታት ጉባኤ የማይደፈሩትን ነጮች በሙግት እያሳፈሩ ቀልባቸውን ሲገፉ የነበሩ ሰዉ ናቸው…” በማለት ምስክርነታቸውን ሰጥተዋል።

በዚያን ሰሞን አሮጌ መጽሔቶች ሳገላብጥ “የመጨረሻው ኑዛዜ… !” በሚል ርዕስ እኚህ ታላቅ ሰው ለሀገራቸው የፈጸሙትን ታላቅ ገድል የሚያወሳ ጽሑፍ አገኘሁ። እሥር ላይ ሆነው ከመሞታቸው በፊት በማስታወሻ መልክ ያኖሩት አስገራሚ ታሪክ ነው።

አፋምቦን ከፈረንሳይ ፣ ጋምቤላን ከእንግሊዝ እጅ ፈልቅቀው ወደ ቀድሞ እናት ግዛታቸው ኢትዮጵያ የቀላቀሉበት የዲፕሎማሲያዊ ጥበብ በእጅጉ ያስደምማል።

“….ውጪ ጉዳይ እንደገባሁ ኢትዮጵያ ከሌሎች ሀገራት ጋር ያላትን ወሰን በኢንተርናሽናል ውል መሠረት በትክክል መወሰን ዋና ጉዳይ አድርጌ ነበር ያየሁት ።….ትንሽ መንግሥት እንደመሆናችን መጠን የተከበብነው ያን ግዜ በነኛው በቅኝ ገዥዎች ስለሆነ ‘አጥራችንን ደህና አድርጎ ማጠር አስፈላጊ ነበር። ብዙ ግዜ ከአጼ ሚኒልክ ጋር የተደረገው ውል ግልጽ ያልሆነ ነበር። ኢትዮጵያ ከመወረሯ በፊት (1935) ካንድ ሀገር ጋር ብቻ ነበር ወሰናችን የተካለለው (ከእንግሊዝ ሶማሌ) በዚህ ምክንያት ነው ከጎረቤት ሀገራት ጋር በየጊዜው የድንበር ግጭት የነበረን…” በማለት ከባዱን የዲፕሎማሲያዊ ሥራ እንዴት እንደተያያዙት ጸሐፊ ትእዛዝ ያወሳሉ።

እስኪ ጋምቤላ ወደ ኢትዮጵያ እንዲመለስ (ከ 1954 — 1955 ዓ.ም) ያደረጉትን ትግል እንይ ፤ ጠቅላይ ሚኒስትር እንደገለጹት ኢትዮጵያ ዙሪያዋን በቀኝ ገዥዎች የተከበበች ብቸኛ ነጻ ሀገር ነበረች። እንዲህ እንዳሁኑ በዘርና በጎሳ ተከፋፍለን ፣ በጦርነት እርስ በእርስ ስንተላለቅ ፣ አጋጣሚውን በመጠቀም ቅኝ ገዢዎች በመስፋፋት ድንበራችንን ጥሰው በመግባት ብዙ ቦታዎችን ይዘውብን ነበር። በኃይል ከተያዙብን ሥፍራዎች አንዱ ጋምቤላ ነበር።

የኢትዮጵያና የሱዳን ድንበር የሚወሰነው በአጼ ምኒልክና በእንግሊዞች መካከል በተፈረመው ውል መሠረት ነበር። እዚህ ውል ላይ “…ጋምቤላ በእንግሊዞች እጅ ይቆያል ፣ ይኸውም እንግሊዝ ሱዳንን እስከያዘች ድረስ ነው ….”የሚል ነበረበት።

በ 1954 ዓ.ም ንጉሠ ነገሥት ግርማዊ ቀዳማዊ ኃይለሥላሴ እና ጸሐፊ ትእዛዝ አክሊሉ እንግሊዝን ይጎበኛሉ። አጋጣሚውን በመጠቀም ብልሁ አክሊሉ “..ሱዳን በቅርብ ግዜ ነጻ መሆኗ አይቀርም ፣ ስለዚህ በውሉ መሠረት አሁኑኑ ጋምቤላን ብታስረክቡን? ” ብለው የእንግሊዙን ጠቅላይ ሚኒስትር ኤደንን ይጠይቃሉ ኤደንም “..የሱዳን ነጻነት ገና ነው።
ቢያንስ ሁለትና ሦስት አመት ይወስዳል። በውሉ መሠረት ሱዳንን እስክንለቅ መጠበቅ አለባችሁ.. !”በማለት ኮስተር ብሎ ይመልሳል። "...ይሄማ አይሆንም! ሱዳን ነጻ መንግሥት እስክትሆን ጠብቀን በሁዋላ ከሱዳን ወንድሞቻችን ጋር ጋምቤላን አስረክቡን ብለን መጣላት አንፈልግም ስለዚህ አሁኑኑ ጋምቤላን አስረክቡን "በማለት አክሊሉ አጥብቀው ይጠይቃሉ። ከብዙ ክርክር በሁዋላ በአይበገሬው ኢትዮጵያዊ ጽናት አንድ ስምምነት ላይ ይደርሳሉ። ይህም "...ሱዳን ነጻ ከመውጣቷ ከሦስት ወር በፊት ጋምቤላን ለማስረከብ ሁለቱ መንግሥታት ተነጋግረው እንዲረካከቡ..."የሚል ነው።

ግን እንግሊዝ ውሉን ችላ ብላና ቃሏን አጥፋ ሦስት ወር ባልሞላ ግዜ ውስጥ ለሱዳን ነጻነቷን የምትመልስ መሆኗን በሬድዮ ታውጃለች። እንግሊዝ ጋምቤላን ሳታስረክብ ሱዳንን ለቃ መውጣቷ በኢትዮጵያና በሱዳን መሀከል ጦርነት መጫር ፈልጋ መሆኑን ለመረዳት አክሊሉ ግዜ አልወሰደባቸውም። ዜናውን እንደሰሙ በፍጥነት ማስታወሻ አዘጋጅተው በኢትዬጵያ የእንግሊዙን አምባሳደር ጠርተው ማስታወሻውን ይሰጡታል። የማስታወሻው ቃል "...በውሉ መሠረት ጋምቤላን እንግሊዞች የሚይዙት ሱዳን እስካለ ድረስ ነው። አሁን እንግሊዞች በድንገት ሱዳንን ስለሚለቁ ፣ በተስማማነው መሠረት ከሰኞ ጀምሮ (ከሁለት ቀን በሁዋላ) ኢትዮጵያ ጋምቤላን ትይዛለች ...!" የሚል ቆፍጠን ያለ መልእክት የያዘ ነበር። አምባሳደሩም ሀሳቡን ተቃውሞ መልእክቱን ግን ለሀገሩ መንግሥት እንደሚያስተላልፍ ተናገረ።

ወዲያው ለሱዳን የውስጥ አስተዳደር ባለስልጣናት በአቶ መለስ አምዶም (በወቅቱ የኢትዮጵያ አገናኝ ሁዋላም በግብጽ አምባሳደር በነበሩት) በኩል ቴሌግራም ይልካሉ።
“..ለነጻነታችሁ መልካም ምኞታችን ነው። ወደፊት እንደ ወንድማማቾች አብረን እንድንሠራ ጋምቤላ በቅኝ ገዢዎች በኃይል ተይዞብን ስለነበር ከሰኞ ጀምረን መያዛችን…. ወዳጅነታችንን የማይነካና የሱዳንም ቆንሲላ ማናቸውም ቤትና ንብረት ቢኖር ለግዜው መቆየት ይችላል… “የሚል ሀሳብ በመልእክቱ ተካቷል። አክሊሉ እንዳቀዱት ሰኞ እለት የኢትዮጵያ የፖሊስ ኃይል ጋምቤላ ገብቶ የኢትዮጵያን ባንዲራ ሰቀለ። አስተዳደሩንም ሙሉ በሙሉ ያለምንም ችግር ተቆጣጠረ። ሱዳኖች በወቅቱ በነጻነታቸው ተደስተው በጎ ምላሽ የሰጡ ቢሆንም.. ፣ ዘግይተው ሀሳባቸውን ለውጠዋል። ከሦስት ወር በሁዋላ በምክትል የውጭ ጉዳይ ሚኒስትር የሚመራ ልዑክ ጋምቤላ ስላላቸው ንብረት ለመነጋገር አዲስ አበባ ይገባል። በስብሰባ ወቅት በቁጣ "..ለእንግሊዞች የፈቀዳችሁትን ጋምቤላን ለምን ለእኛ አፍሪካውያን ትነፍጉናላችሁ? ጋምቤላን መልሱልን.. !"በማለት ጠይቀዋል።

አክሊሉም “…እኛ ወደን የሰጠናቸው አይደለም! የእንግሊዝ ቀኝ ገዥዎች አፍሪካን ሲከፋፈሉ በኃይል የወሰዱብን ነው። አሁን ቅኝ ግዛት ሀገራት ነጻ ይውጡ ሲባል.. እንዴት እናንተ እንዲህ አይነት ጥያቄ ትጠይቃላችሁ? ! ይልቅ በሰላማዊና በወንድማማች መንፈስ የምትወስዱትን እቃ ዝርዝር ብንነጋገር ይሻላል። ወደዚህ የመጣችሁበትና የተስማማንበት ጉዳይ ይህ ነው!ከዚህ ውጪ በሌላ ጉዳይ ለመነጋገር የተስማማንበት ሥርአት አይፈቅድም.. !” አሏቸው። ሱዳኖችም ተቆጥተው ስብሰባውን ጥለው ወጡ። ጸሐፊ ትእዛዝ በማስታወሻቸው እንደሚዘክሩት "..በሌላ ጉዳይ ካልሆነ በቀር ከዚያን ግዜ አንስቶ የጋምቤላ ጉዳይ በሱዳኖች ተነስቶ አያውቅም.. !" ይሉናል።

“ክብር ኢትዮጵያን ከነ ነፃነቷ ላስረከቡን ጀግኖች አባቶቻችንና እናቶቻችን ይሁን🙏

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By Professor Girma Berhanu Department of Education and Special Education University of Gothenburg

Introduction

This paper is motivated by a recently circulated video produced in Gondar that documents practices of forced religious conversion and coercive manipulation directed at members of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. The video

[i] depicts economically vulnerable Orthodox believers being pressured by Pentecostal groups—identified as “Mulu Wongel” (“Full Gospel”)—to renounce their faith, burn their kitab, and denounce Saint Mary (Kidist Mariam) in exchange for food aid and other forms of material assistance. Such practices raise serious concerns regarding freedom of religion, informed consent, and the exploitation of poverty.

The involvement of foreign religious actors, reportedly operating in coordination with local authorities, suggests a broader structural problem rather than isolated incidents. Anti-Orthodox campaigns have historical depth in Ethiopia and cannot be understood as recent developments. These campaigns intensified during the Woyane (the other name for Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) period and appear to have become increasingly visible and institutionalized in the post-TPLF/EPRDF era. The instrumentalization of material deprivation to induce religious conversion constitutes a violation of basic human dignity and, under international human-rights norms, may qualify as coercion.

This paper does not aim to engage in theological debate, nor does it seek to adjudicate doctrinal differences. Religion is acknowledged as a sensitive domain that often elicits strong reactions. Instead, the focus is on the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church as a historical, cultural, and social institution that has played a central role in shaping Ethiopian identity, social cohesion, and political sovereignty[ii].

The Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church is among the oldest Christian institutions in the world, yet it has faced sustained external and internal pressures since the sixteenth century, beginning with Portuguese Jesuit interventions. Subsequent periods witnessed continued incursions by both Islamic powers and Western evangelical missions. These efforts often relied on direct proselytization practices that were intrusive and coercive in nature, particularly when directed at economically marginalized communities. The author has observed these dynamics firsthand over several decades.

The manifestations of these pressures are complex and frequently parallel broader colonial or neo-colonial projects. During the Italian occupation, for example, Orthodox institutions and clergy were explicitly targeted. Italian forces carried out documented massacres of Orthodox monks, recognizing the church as a core pillar of Ethiopian nationalism, cultural continuity, and resistance to foreign domination. This historical record underscores the extent to which assaults on the church have also been assaults on Ethiopian sovereignty.

Of particular concern is the role of the Ethiopian state in the contemporary period. Since the rise of the TPLF/EPRDF, there has been documented evidence of systemic discrimination against the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and its adherents, alongside preferential treatment and institutional support extended to evangelical, Pentecostal, and Protestant groups. This pattern of state alignment has contributed to religious inequality, social fragmentation, and the erosion of long-standing communal structures. The Prime Minister and his high-ranking official belong to this group. They openly use the muscle of the state institutions to suppress the Orthodox Christians.

This paper argues that these developments warrant serious scholarly and advocacy-based attention. Addressing coercive religious practices and state-sanctioned disparities is essential not only for protecting religious freedom, but also for preserving social stability and historical continuity in Ethiopia.

Ethiopia at a Crossroads: Religious Violence, Ethnic Federalism, and Regional Instability

In the article “Ethiopia, the Land of the Bible, Brutally Targeting and Killing Christians,” Blanquita Cullum (December 25, 2025), presented on The National Security Hour, examines the contemporary crisis affecting Christian communities in Ethiopia. The presentation situates the origins of Christianity in Ethiopia within the ancient Aksumite Kingdom of the fourth century, 325 CE, following the conversion of King Ezana. Ethiopia possesses one of the world’s oldest continuous Christian traditions, reflected in its extensive religious heritage, including the eleven rock-hewn churches of Lalibela, carved from a single living rock. The country is referenced more than forty times in biblical texts, and longstanding traditions identify Ethiopia as the promised land of St. Mary and as the custodian of the Ark of the Covenant.

Christianity remains a major religious force in Ethiopia, with adherents of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, as well as Greek Orthodox, Coptic, and other Christian denominations, numbering in the tens of millions. This enduring presence is largely attributable to Ethiopia’s historical role as a refuge for persecuted Orthodox Christian communities. Armenian and Greek Christians, fleeing persecution in the Ottoman Empire and other regions, migrated to Ethiopia and established enduring diaspora communities. Despite this substantial historical and demographic significance, Ethiopia is currently listed on several international risk assessments identifying heightened threats of armed conflict, political violence, terrorism, and kidnapping. Recent reports suggest that Christian populations—particularly members of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church—have increasingly become targets of violence, with incidents rising in both frequency and severity. The crisis raises critical questions regarding the motivations behind attacks on Christian communities and the strategic importance of Ethiopia within the Horn of Africa. Regional instability is underscored by Ethiopia’s proximity to Somalia, a country long affected by state fragility and armed conflict. Furthermore, the involvement of external actors, Egypt, the Gulf states, Turkey etc. warrants examination in light of Ethiopia’s geopolitical significance.

In response to these developments, the United States House of Representatives introduced Resolution H.R. 937, which condemns the Government of Ethiopia for actions that threaten regional stability, violate fundamental human rights, and undermine U.S. strategic interests in the Horn of Africa. The resolution emphasizes that violence has disproportionately targeted the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and other religious institutions. Substantial evidence suggests the involvement of the Oromo Liberation Front and Oromo Liberation Army (OLF/OLA), and Islamic Oromya operating in complicity with elements of the current governing structure.

Ethiopia’s historical identity extends beyond religion. It is the site of the paleoanthropological discovery of Australopithecus afarensis (“Lucy”), the location of Lalibela’s UNESCO-recognized churches, the alleged resting place of the Ark of the Covenant in Axum, and the birthplace of coffee. These widely recognized cultural and historical markers heighten international awareness and underscore the gravity of the country’s present suffering.

Contemporary reports describe a systematic campaign of violence affecting both religious and ethnic communities. Ethiopian Orthodox clergy have been killed, churches destroyed, and entire populations forcibly displaced. Documentation includes accounts of mass killings, sexual violence, and drone strikes against civilian populations. The Amhara people, in particular, have experienced displacement on a scale involving hundreds of thousands.

This crisis is not solely a localized humanitarian emergency but is rooted in a broader political framework of ethnic federalism that has, according to numerous analyses, been instrumentalized by political elites to consolidate power. The resulting fragmentation threatens the cohesion of a state that has endured for millennia. The potential collapse of Ethiopia would have profound regional consequences, jeopardizing trade routes, exacerbating security vacuums, and enabling extremist organizations and foreign powers to expand their influence across the Horn of Africa. H.R. 937 represents a formal acknowledgment of these abuses and calls for concrete measures to protect civilian populations and ensure accountability for perpetrators. The resolution advocates targeted sanctions and the conditional provision of international assistance aimed at safeguarding civilians rather than entrenching political regimes. As such, it constitutes a normative and policy-oriented response to a crisis with significant humanitarian, regional, and geopolitical implications.

Moral Silence in the Face of Atrocity: Religious Leadership and Mass Violence in Contemporary Ethiopia

Ethiopians are currently enduring profound suffering and a pervasive, collective national grief. The country’s fate appears increasingly shaped by ethnonationalist forces, ethno-fascist mobilizations, and violent groups operating both within and outside the present political leadership. Atrocity crimes—including murder, mass killings, arbitrary detention, and other forms of inhumane treatment of civilians—have become disturbingly routine.

At the time of writing, violence continues unabated, particularly in the Amhara region, which has effectively become a war zone. Approximately six million school-aged children are out of school, state institutions are largely nonfunctional, agricultural activity has been disrupted, and access to health services is severely limited. The region has witnessed large-scale internal displacement and migration. International reporting indicates that tens of thousands—though the precise number remains undetermined—have been killed, including through drone strikes and other weaponry. Civilians endure indescribable suffering, compounded by reports of forced religious conversion and systematic abuses directed at Ethiopian Orthodox Church institutions and clergy[iii].

Amid these conditions, pressing questions arise: Where are the voices of international humanitarian organizations? Where is the collective response of the international community? Why is there such limited global condemnation of the killing of Ethiopians—young and old alike? Equally troubling is the relative silence of domestic religious leadership. Ethiopia’s religious institutions are moral centers where fundamental ethical principles are taught—most notably, that the taking of life is wrong and that inflicting suffering upon others constitutes a grave violation of divine law. Yet these principles are not being articulated with sufficient clarity or urgency in response to the current crisis.

It is widely recognized that there is no military solution to the ongoing violence and genocidal acts in Ethiopia. Religious and spiritual leaders—both within the country and throughout the diaspora—must therefore speak out forcefully, consistently, and unambiguously. They must affirm that all Ethiopians are children of God and that murder represents a profound desecration of the very faith such violence claims to defend. The ongoing silence of religious establishments in the face of mass atrocities is deeply troubling and risks becoming catastrophic for efforts to preserve Ethiopia’s unity and to protect the sanctity of human life. Forced religious conversion, moreover, constitutes a violation equal in moral gravity to physical violence.

In times of national disaster or collective trauma, religious leaders traditionally serve as frontline caregivers and trusted moral authorities. Communities look to them for comfort, healing, and guidance, and they are expected to act as the voice of the voiceless. While the primary role of religious leadership is spiritual care—providing compassion, empathy, clarity, and hope in moments of crisis—it also includes a responsibility to condemn killings, denounce inhumane treatment and forced conversion, and publicly admonish political leaders who perpetuate violence.

The current situation in Ethiopia urgently requires such leadership. Religious institutions possess a unique capacity to help halt the violence orchestrated by political elites whose actions threaten to destroy Ethiopia’s social fabric, undermine the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, and provoke prolonged civil war. Beyond condemnation, these leaders are also positioned to facilitate national dialogue, reconciliation, and the pursuit of sustainable peace. Their established social authority, extensive networks, and faith-based moral frameworks equip them to respond meaningfully to the profound suffering experienced by millions of Ethiopians.

It must be acknowledged that some courageous religious figures have spoken out against these atrocity crimes. Notably, several bishops from the Amhara region and the late Sheikh Haji Omar Idris—the Grand Mufti of Ethiopia and former president of the Islamic Affairs Supreme Council—publicly expressed grave concern regarding the deteriorating situation and the commission of mass atrocities. It is possible that other leaders have voiced similar concerns privately or within limited forums. Nevertheless, what is required now is a far stronger, unified, and unequivocal public condemnation by Ethiopia’s major religious institutions. Such moral leadership is not optional; it is imperative.

Faith Under Siege: Ethiopia’s Orthodox Church in a Changing Religious Landscape

I want to believe that the majority of Catholics, Orthodox Christians, Muslims, and Ethiopian Protestant Churches (including Pentecostals, both as organizations and as individual believers) have fought—and continue to fight—for justice, truth, and the rule of law throughout Ethiopian history. However, the forms of resistance and protest have varied significantly among these religious communities. Compared to the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, one of the oldest Christian institutions in the world, Protestant denominations—including Evangelical, Pentecostal[iv], Methodist, Lutheran, Baptist, Episcopalian, Mennonite, Seventh-day Adventist, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and numerous other fragmented Protestant churches—are relatively recent arrivals in Ethiopia. Consequently, their roles and engagements in Ethiopian political life differ accordingly.

As Haustein (2014) [v]notes, a new religious factor has emerged in Ethiopia that attracts considerable public attention, invites controversy, influences social behavior, and has even generated new Amharic expressions. This phenomenon is visible in the proliferation of church signs in towns and villages bearing names such as “Full Gospel Believers Church” (ሙሉ፡ወንጌል፡አማኞች፡ቤተ፡ክርስቲያን, Mulu Wängel Amañočč Betä-Krəstiyan), “Paradise Church” (ገነት፡ቤተ፡ክርስቲያን, Gännät Betä-Krəstiyan), “Light of Life Church” (ሕይወት፡ብርሃን፡ቤተ፡ክርስቲያን, Ḥəywät Bərhan Betä-Krəstiyan), “Deliverance Church” (አርነት፡ቤተ፡ክርስቲያን, Arənnät Betä-Krəstiyan), among many others.

There are widely held—though largely unsubstantiated—claims that some Protestant sects passively collaborate with the ruling regime because the government has granted them greater space to practice their religion. Another equally contested claim suggests that, since the regime (whether under the EPRDF, the Prosperity Party, to match Oral Robert’s Prosperity Gospel) or the broader political elite) has adopted an anti-Orthodox posture and undermined Orthodox traditions, these newer religious groups have felt emboldened or even satisfied by the weakening of what they perceive as a rival religious establishment.

The expansion of Protestant denominations is undeniable. However, their relationships with long-established religious communities—particularly the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and the Muslim community—have been fraught with tension. One major point of contention is aggressive proselytization, including practices that critics argue involve materially incentivizing conversions among impoverished Orthodox believers. It is long overdue for Protestant churches, Muslim organizations, and the Orthodox Church—whose leadership has itself been manipulated by the regime—to take coordinated and principled action in condemning atrocities committed in Ethiopia, especially assaults on Orthodox believers, their ancient traditions, artifacts, and sacred relics.

Internal disputes and doctrinal rivalries over relatively minor theological differences only serve to prolong the grip of authoritarian or ethnofascist forces on power, thereby exacerbating the suffering of the faithful. While religious institutions should remain independent of political control in a just, inclusive, and democratic society, Ethiopia’s reality has been markedly different. The Ethiopian Orthodox Church was heavily controlled under the EPRDF and continues to be influenced by sympathizers of extremist and ethnicist forces, particularly those emerging from anti-Ethiopian movements in regions such as Oromia. Reports from Dire Dawa, Harar, and eastern Ethiopia are deeply alarming and warrant a separate, focused analysis.

A closer examination of the power structure within the Ethiopian Orthodox Patriarchate reveals that an estimated 90 percent of departmental leadership positions have been held by former TPLF members or current Prosperity Party affiliates (though precise figures are unavailable). This political capture explains, in part, why the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church is facing both financial hardship and severe restrictions on its religious autonomy. The regime has repeatedly violated religious freedom by intervening directly in Orthodox ecclesiastical affairs.

Ironically, historic churches such as Lalibela and Axum Zion generate substantial revenue through tourism, yet the Church itself has seen little benefit from this income. Since the TPLF came to power, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church has borne the brunt of discriminatory policies and systematic marginalization. A commonly cited explanation for the government’s hostility toward the Orthodox foundation lies in the Church’s deep-rooted tradition of Ethiopianism. The Church is famously associated with the Ethiopian flag and has long served as a custodian of national identity. Under the new regime, the situation has worsened. Abiy’s ministers, allies, and a shadow government appear influenced by the Prosperity Gospel movement—an extremely aggressive, profit-driven, and mafia-like organization—which has had a damaging impact not only in Ethiopia but across numerous African countries, often depriving the poor and vulnerable.

Several factors have historically complicated relations between successive regimes—including both the Tigrean-led and Abiy administrations—and the Church. First, for centuries, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church stood at the center of village social life. Weddings, baptisms, funerals, conflict mediation, and spiritual counseling were all conducted through the Church. Each household was spiritually connected to a priest who served as a religious “father” and presided over key life-cycle events. In this way, the Church was embedded in every community.

Second, the Church functioned as a vital link between the people and the state. It consistently aligned itself with Ethiopian emperors who, in turn, promoted the Church’s unity, expansion, and authority. Hierarchically organized from village parishes to a national center, the Church embodied both spiritual and socio-cultural life. It played a critical role in mediating conflicts—between rival groups and even between the state and rebel forces—while fostering allegiance to the Ethiopian state. Through the use of national symbols, especially the Ethiopian flag during religious and social ceremonies, the Church effectively served as a school of national consciousness, a practice mirrored by the Ethiopian military.

Third, the Church historically served as the principal legitimizing institution for Ethiopian rulers. Long-standing grievances regarding the TPLF’s hijacking of the Orthodox Church were later substantiated in Aregawi Berhe’s A Political History of the TPLF, as referenced by Getachew Redda (see: Ethiopian Semay, accessed 2018-02-08). Notably, I have never observed the Ethiopian flag being prominently displayed during ceremonies or festivities of other religious institutions in Ethiopia—though I remain open to correction on this point.

Above all, the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church has historically maintained, affirmed, and defended the just liberties of the Ethiopian people and the nation’s territorial integrity. During periods of foreign invasion, it provided moral support and spiritual inspiration to Ethiopian patriots, reinforcing its enduring role as both a religious and national institution.

Since its inception, the ruling party has clandestinely organized and operated activities that are hostile toward the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and the Muslim community. It has infiltrated and “contaminated” these foundational institutions, which are central to Ethiopian identity and the ethos of Ethiopianism. These religious establishments are perceived as threats to a ruling agenda centered on un-Ethiopian policies. The commitment and zeal of Orthodox followers—to both their faith and the integrity of Ethiopia—has been documented by international observers and researchers.

According to Jeff Diamant (2017)[vi], a senior writer/editor at Pew Research Center focusing on religion, Ethiopia has the largest Orthodox Christian population outside Europe. By many measures, Orthodox Ethiopians display far higher levels of religious commitment than Orthodox Christians in the faith’s historical heartlands of Central and Eastern Europe. Ethiopia, located in the Horn of Africa, has over 45 [?]million Orthodox Christians, making it the world’s second-largest Orthodox population after Russia. Nearly all Orthodox Ethiopians (98%) consider religion very important, compared with a median of 34% among Orthodox Christians across 13 surveyed countries in Central and Eastern Europe. About three-quarters of Orthodox Ethiopians attend church weekly (78%), compared with a median of 10% in Central and Eastern Europe and just 6% in Russia.

Orthodox Christians make up approximately 53%[vii] of Ethiopia’s population, with Protestants accounting for 19% and Muslims 35%. In 2010, Ethiopia’s 36 million Orthodox Christians comprised about 14% of the global Orthodox population, up from 3% in 1910. This growth is largely attributable to Ethiopia’s overall population increase, from 9 million in 1910 to 83 million in 2010. Ethiopian Orthodoxy belongs to the Oriental branch of Orthodoxy, which represents roughly 20% of the global Orthodox population and is not in communion with the larger Eastern Orthodox Church due to theological and doctrinal differences.

For these reasons, the current ruling party view the Orthodox Church as a threat to their “divide and rule” strategies. Some reports suggest that evangelical Protestantism (particularly Pentecostalism) is aggressively attempting to convert members, while fundamentalist Islam is becoming increasingly assertive in the country and the region. However, substantial empirical data is required before these claims can be definitively stated. Premature discussion risks creating divisions that only prolong the regime’s merciless attacks on Ethiopia and Ethiopian identity.

It is high time for Ethiopian youth to stop being used as cannon fodder and for religious institutions to cease acting merely as passive observers—or worse, as facilitators of burial services for unarmed citizens murdered under the regime. Religious schisms, particularly among the diaspora, must end to preserve unity in the face of persecution.

Ethiopians must have access to international platforms to present their case, including the United Nations and its judicial bodies, the International Court of Justice (ICJ), the International Criminal Court (ICC), global media outlets, religious institutions, prominent cultural figures, and independent think tanks that provide early warnings of crises. The persecution of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church—including forced conversions, derision, and systematic erasure—is part of a broader genocidal agenda. Early warning signs of catastrophic risk in Ethiopia are already evident. The international community must respond urgently to prevent the destruction of the country and the destabilization of the wider region. Failure to act will have devastating consequences for Ethiopia and beyond.

Summary and The Road Forward

At this critical moment in Ethiopian history, what do we expect from our religious leaders—regardless of denomination, sect, or doctrine? We expect courage, honesty, and moral clarity.

Political elites are manipulating divisions among religious leaders and ethnic groups. Silence from our spiritual authorities in the face of atrocities is unacceptable. Religious leaders have a moral duty to speak out, call for justice, and hold the powerful accountable. The faith community looks to you not just for guidance, but for action. Religious authority carries power. Used wisely, it can galvanize communities toward justice. Used poorly—or not at all—it allows oppression to flourish. Ethiopia’s political, social, and economic systems are infiltrated by ethnonationalist forces that marginalize the majority. It is time for religious leaders—at every level—to mobilize followers for an inclusive, just, and humane society.

Internal colonization, inequality, and domination are real. Ethiopian religious leaders have historically resisted foreign colonizers and homegrown oppressors alike. Today, despite doctrinal differences, unity is essential. Moral courage is not optional: failure to speak out against killings, repression, and persecution will be judged by the people, by history, and by God.

In some regions, extremist attacks have burned churches, killed clergy and laypeople, and forced conversions. For Orthodox Tewahedo Christians, religion is inseparable from ethnic identity, language (Geʽez), and history. Forced conversion erases heritage, tradition, and belonging. Yet, for over 1,700 years, the faith has survived and remains central to Ethiopian civilization.

The battle today is clear: good versus evil, life versus death. There is no room for doctrinal disputes when human lives, justice, and Ethiopia’s future are at stake. Religious leaders must rise together, unite communities, and act decisively. The time for moral courage is now.

“In keeping silent about evil, in burying it so deep within us that no sign of it appears on the surface, we are implanting it, and it will rise up a thousand-fold in the future. When we neither punish nor reproach evildoers, we are not simply protecting their trivial old age, we are thereby ripping the foundations of justice from beneath new generations.”

― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956

Academic & Scholarly Sources

Ademe, S. M. (2021). Ideological violence towards the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church in the post-1960s. Politics and Religion Journal. https://doi.org/10.54561/prj1502377a

Crummey, D. (2006). Church and nation: The Ethiopian Orthodox Täwahedo Church (from the thirteenth to the twentieth century). In M. Angold (Ed.), The Cambridge history of Christianity (pp. 457–487). Cambridge University Press.

Liyew, D. M. (2024). Politics of secularism in Ethiopia: Repression or co-option towards the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church? European Scientific Journal, 20(11).

Persecution of Orthodox Tewahedo Christianity. (n.d.). Grokipedia.

Systematic persecution in Oromia: The role of militias and political actors in targeting Ethiopian Orthodox Christians. (2025). Borkena.

The shattered cross: A chronicle of state-sanctioned persecution against Ethiopia’s Orthodox Christians. (2025). Borkena.

Woybela Mariam Church incident. (2022). Wikipedia.

[i] https://youtu.be/XQZso_nY_cI?si=7ygVs7jcgfWwhPfO

[ii] https://www.americaoutloud.news/ethiopia-the-land-of-the-bible-brutally-targeting-and-killing-christians/

[iii] Insight, Addis (2023-02-15). “The Persecution of Ethiopian Orthodox Church Followers: A Comparison to Jewish Persecution Throughout History”. Addis Insight. Retrieved 2023-09-03.

[iv] Jörg Haustein (2014) argues that despite its fairly ubiquitous presence, there are hardly any academic publications about this new religious factor. The standard Amharic dictionaries do not yet include the term ጴንጤ (pänṭe) and its correct spelling is not solidified. Obviously, the word is derived from the Amharic term for Pentecost (ጰንጠቆስጤ, pänṭäqosṭe), or the English “Pentecostal,” and as such it points to the Pentecostal movement. But how did Pentecostalism come to Ethiopia in the first place? Why has it become such a notable phenomenon only now, whereas in other African countries, such as neighboring Kenya, it has been around for much longer

[v] Jörg Haustein (2014) Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity in Ethiopia: A Historical Introduction to a Largely Unexplored Movement.Hatem Elliesie (ed.): Multidisciplinary Views on the Horn of Africa. Studien zum Horn von Afrika, 1, Köln 2014, pp. 109–127.

[vi] Ethiopia is an outlier in the Orthodox Christian world http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2017/11/28/ethiopia-is-an-outlier-in-the-orthodox-christian-world/

[vii] The statistical data are difficult to interpret, and precise figures remain contested. Nevertheless, the estimate cited may be plausible. Over the past five decades, large numbers of Amharas are reported to have been killed in episodes of mass violence. During a parliamentary discussion approximately twelve years ago, an expert from the national census office stated that approximately 2.5 million Amharas were unaccounted for in the census data. The fate of this population remains unexplained. It has also been openly acknowledged by some political figures that the Amhara population is underrepresented in official statistics, yet public discussion of the apparent disappearance of large numbers of Amharas remains limited. It is reasonable to infer that, among those unaccounted for, an overwhelming majority were adherents of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church.

[1] https://www.americaoutloud.news/ethiopia-the-land-of-the-bible-brutally-targeting-and-killing-christians/

[1] Insight, Addis (2023-02-15). “The Persecution of Ethiopian Orthodox Church Followers: A Comparison to Jewish Persecution Throughout History”. Addis Insight. Retrieved 2023-09-03.

[1] Jörg Haustein (2014) argues that despite its fairly ubiquitous presence, there are hardly any academic publications about this new religious factor. The standard Amharic dictionaries do not yet include the term ጴንጤ (pänṭe) and its correct spelling is not solidified. Obviously, the word is derived from the Amharic term for Pentecost (ጰንጠቆስጤ, pänṭäqosṭe), or the English “Pentecostal,” and as such it points to the Pentecostal movement. But how did Pentecostalism come to Ethiopia in the first place? Why has it become such a notable phenomenon only now, whereas in other African countries, such as neighboring Kenya, it has been around for much longer

[1] Jörg Haustein (2014) Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity in Ethiopia: A Historical Introduction to a Largely Unexplored Movement.Hatem Elliesie (ed.): Multidisciplinary Views on the Horn of Africa. Studien zum Horn von Afrika, 1, Köln 2014, pp. 109–127.

[1] Ethiopia is an outlier in the Orthodox Christian world http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2017/11/28/ethiopia-is-an-outlier-in-the-orthodox-christian-world/

[1] The statistical data are difficult to interpret, and precise figures remain contested. Nevertheless, the estimate cited may be plausible. Over the past five decades, large numbers of Amharas are reported to have been killed in episodes of mass violence. During a parliamentary discussion approximately twelve years ago, an expert from the national census office stated that approximately 2.5 million Amharas were unaccounted for in the census data. The fate of this population remains unexplained. It has also been openly acknowledged by some political figures that the Amhara population is underrepresented in official statistics, yet public discussion of the apparent disappearance of large numbers of Amharas remains limited. It is reasonable to infer that, among those unaccounted for, an overwhelming majority were adherents of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church.

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By Ethiopian Tribune columnist E. Frashie

On 17th January, the announcement of the Amhara Fano National Movement (AFNM) did more than consolidate disparate militias under a single command structure. In the movement’s own triumphalist language, it has taken “a historic decision that will close the valley through which the Prosperity Party group…draws its breath.” Stripped of revolutionary bombast, this means something simpler but no less significant: it called the bluff of Ethiopia’s political establishment. For 22 months, the government of Abiy Ahmed has refused to negotiate with Fano on the grounds that the movement was too fragmented to engage meaningfully. That excuse, threadbare even when first deployed, has now been comprehensively demolished. The movement now operates under “one leader, one organization” precisely what the government claimed was necessary for dialogue. The question is whether Addis Ababa, and its intellectual enablers, will acknowledge this reality or continue retreating into ever more baroque conspiracy theories about foreign manipulation.

The unification deserves serious analysis, not reflexive dismissal. Yet the response from government-aligned commentators, exemplified by Dr Dagnachew Assefa’s recent Andafta interview, reveals an intellectual poverty that augurs poorly for Ethiopia’s prospects. When a political movement you’ve spent nearly two years fighting suddenly presents you with the interlocutor you claimed to want, the appropriate response is not to insist they must be puppets of Eritrea, Egypt, and the TPLF. Such arguments insult the intelligence of observers and, more seriously, foreclose any possibility of the political settlement Ethiopia desperately needs.

The Mechanics of Unification: More Sophisticated Than Acknowledged

The Reyot Media discussion of 26th January provides crucial context absent from government narratives. The merger addresses three specific operational deficiencies that had plagued Fano since the conflict’s inception in April 2023:

First, the propaganda disadvantage. As Reyot’s journalist and his guest note, the fragmentation between entities like the Amhara Fano National Force (AFNF) and Amhara Fano Popular Organisation (AFPO), colloquially referred to as “AFAD” and “AFAB” respectively, allowed the Prosperity Party to portray the movement as disorganised rabble incapable of coherent political thought. This wasn’t merely rhetorical. It provided justification for refusing dialogue whilst pursuing military solutions, and it deterred international engagement.

Second, the diplomatic impasse. Without a single leadership structure or unified political programme, external actors, whether potential mediators or sympathetic diaspora communities, faced a coordination nightmare. Whom does one negotiate with when four regional commands operate independently? Which political document represents Fano’s actual demands? The new structure, with its 13-member central command, resolves this ambiguity.

Third, operational inefficiency. Logistics in insurgencies are difficult enough without duplicated efforts and competing resource claims. The Reyot discussion highlights how support networks were “confused” about where to direct assistance, leading to waste whilst fighters in the field faced shortages.

The leadership structure itself reflects careful balancing:

• Chairman: Zemene Kassie (Gojjam faction)
• First Vice-Chairman: Meketaw Mamo (Gondar faction)
• Vice-Chairman for Military Affairs: Habte Wolde (field commander)
• Vice-Chairman for Political Affairs: Henok Addis (political strategist)
• Military Commander: Brigadier General Tefera Mamo (professional military background)
• Public Relations: Asres Mare (communications strategy)
• Foreign Affairs: Brook Shileshi (international engagement)

Notably, the organization has assigned Eskinder Nega to the “Policy & Strategy Directorate” rather than a top-tier position a placement we shall examine shortly.

This is not, pace Dr Dagnachew, the product of “totalisation” imposed by foreign patrons. It is a deliberate institutional design meant to represent major factional interests whilst establishing clear lines of authority. The inclusion of both military commanders (Habte, Tefera) and political figures (Henok, Brook) suggests an organisation preparing for both continued armed struggle and eventual negotiation.

More revealing is the ideological framework the movement has adopted. In its 17th January statement, AFNM explicitly declares “Amhara nationalism” as its guiding worldview: “the ideological framework through which we will struggle, beginning with winning the current existential struggle and, in the long term, by securing the survival and identity of our people and safeguarding their rights and interests.” This framing of an “existential threat” requiring a “new Amhara revolution” positions the movement not as insurgents pursuing tactical objectives but as a people engaged in survival struggle.

The statement’s rhetoric is uncompromising: “Indeed, the Amhara are a people facing annihilation…we now find ourselves stripped of our country, made stateless, and placed under the dire threat of destruction amid a state-led genocide.” Whether one accepts this characterisation or not, it signals that AFNM sees itself fighting not for policy concessions but for collective survival a maximalist framing that complicates potential negotiations whilst explaining the movement’s resilience.

The Eskinder Nega Puzzle: Strategic Placement, Not Rejection

The case of Eskinder Nega, veteran journalist, political prisoner under the EPRDF, and prominent Fano political figure illuminates the movement’s internal dynamics more than any external analysis could.

The AFNM statement assigns Eskinder to the “Policy & Strategy Directorate” rather than one of the four top positions (Chairman, First Deputy, Military Affairs Deputy, Political Affairs Deputy). The Reyot Media discussion reported he had declined a specific politburo position, generating speculation about exhaustion or temperamental incompatibility with committee structures.

Yet the official statement’s acknowledgement that “entrenched divisive tendencies, interference by opportunistic interest groups, and the poisonous hands of the enemy constituted the principal challenges” in achieving unity suggests a different interpretation. The “repeated efforts” to establish “a single Fano organization” faced internal obstacles likely including Eskinder’s own political base and ideological positions. His placement in Policy & Strategy, rather than a rejection, may represent a calculated compromise: leveraging his intellectual contributions whilst avoiding the power-sharing complications a top-tier position would create.

The Reyot discussion offers two interpretations, neither of which involves foreign manipulation:

The exhaustion hypothesis: After nearly two years in the field, including periods of intense combat, Eskinder may simply lack the physical stamina for the grinding administrative work a politburo position entails. Armed struggle is not romantic; it involves disease, malnutrition, constant displacement, and the psychological toll of sustained violence. That a 56-year-old intellectual might choose to contribute without accepting formal leadership responsibilities is entirely comprehensible.

The temperamental hypothesis: Eskinder’s political career has been characterised by uncompromising principle and individualistic style. He spent years in Kaliti Prison rather than moderate his criticisms of the EPRDF. Such figures often struggle within committee structures that require consensus-building and tactical compromise. As Reyot’s analysts observe, his “uncompromising” nature may make rigid organisational hierarchies uncomfortable, even when he supports the broader cause.

Critically, Eskinder did not bolt to form a rival organisation, the predictable move for someone prioritising personal ambition over collective goals. The statement’s gratitude to “all leaders of the two organizations: especially for the leadership and determination you demonstrated during this unity process” implicitly acknowledges that achieving merger required mutual concessions. Eskinder’s acceptance of a directorate position, contributing without demanding a top seat, actually demonstrates the unification’s strength. It suggests that factional leaders recognise the movement’s survival depends on unity, even when this requires personal sacrifice.

Yet Dr Dagnachew’s narrative has no room for such nuance. In his telling, any organisational changes within Fano must reflect external manipulation rather than internal political processes. This analytical framework cannot explain Eskinder’s decision except through conspiracy a methodology that substitutes innuendo for evidence.

What Unification Actually Changes: The Strategic Landscape

The operational implications of AFNM’s formation are substantial and deserve acknowledgement even from critics:

Military coordination: For the first time, operations across Gojjam, Gondar, Wollo, and Shewa can be synchronised under unified command. This isn’t merely administrative tidiness; it fundamentally alters battlefield dynamics. Where previously government forces could exploit gaps between factional territories, they now face an adversary capable of coordinated multi-front operations.

AFNM claims significant military success under the previous decentralised structure: “The victories achieved through the determined sacrifice of life of our forces under a decentralized organisational structure dismantled the regime’s defense forces, the main source of its power, and reduced the regime to a mere insurgent confined to Arat Kilo [the Presidential Palace].” The statement continues: “We have turned the regime’s generals, forgetting their military command, into mere cadres left only with their tongues.”

This is revolutionary rhetoric, not sober military assessment. Yet even accounting for triumphalism, the September 2025 operations around Woldiya, Mekane Selam, and Gashena whether fully successful or partially exaggerated demonstrate capacity for significant operations after 22 months of government military pressure. The AFNM’s confidence that “with the first phase of the struggle concluding in victory and the regime’s army disintegrating, it became necessary for Fano to grow into a successor force” suggests they believe they’ve achieved strategic parity, if not superiority, in the Amhara region.

Narrative control: The proliferation of Fano-affiliated media channels (Anchor, Roha TV, Ethio 360, Amhara Fano TV) has created messaging chaos, with different outlets promoting different commanders and occasionally contradictory political lines. A single public relations structure under Asres Mare allows coherent messaging that can counter government propaganda more effectively. This matters in modern conflicts where information warfare runs parallel to kinetic operations.

AFNM’s Expansive Vision: From Amhara Survival to Pan-Ethiopian Liberation

The movement’s 17th January statement reveals ambitions extending far beyond Amhara regional concerns. In a passage that should alarm anyone hoping for quick negotiated settlement, AFNM frames its struggle as the salvation of all Ethiopians:

“Given the current reality facing our country, we do not believe there is any Ethiopian community that has not been subjected, openly or implicitly, to genocidal violence or an existential threat. Every people’s survival is at risk. Ethiopia stands on the edge of a cliff. Accordingly, the Fano struggle represents a decisive political solution not only for the survival of the Amhara people but also for the political salvation of other Ethiopian peoples. An Amhara victory is a victory for the Gurage, the Tigrayan, the Oromo, the Gumuz, the Afar, the Somali, the Wolayta, the Sidama, the Gamo, and other peoples as well.”

This is either magnificent delusion or sophisticated political positioning perhaps both. It reframes Fano from ethnic militia to pan-Ethiopian liberation movement, claiming to fight not just for Amhara but for all Ethiopia’s peoples. The statement explicitly calls on “all political groups and elites” to “stand together and struggle for a shared destiny, as remaining a bystander leads to sequential attacks and destruction.”

More provocatively, AFNM extends its solidarity regionally: “Abiy is the sharp horn of the Horn of Africa, piercing everyone, drawing blood from all, and trampling the homes of the region’s peoples with both hands and feet. For this reason, removing the genocidal Abiy Ahmed regime requires cooperation not only among Ethiopians but also among regional forces. All collaborations aimed at removing this regime and stabilising the region are fully legitimate.”

Read carefully, this passage pre-emptively legitimises precisely the external cooperation Dr Dagnachew accuses them of pursuing. “All collaborations” for regime removal are “fully legitimate” including, presumably, with Eritrea, Egypt, or any regional actor sharing the objective. Whether this reflects existing arrangements or creates political cover for future ones, it demonstrates political sophistication belying the “foreign puppet” narrative.

The message to the international community is equally telling. AFNM calls for ending “support to the anti-people and anti-peace Prosperity regime” whilst applying “necessary pressure to deprive the regime of its destructive capacity.” They request support for “cooperation among Fano and other anti-regime struggle forces” and humanitarian access.

This is the language of a political movement positioning itself as government-in-waiting, not an insurgent group seeking negotiated settlement. The statement nowhere offers compromise, nowhere acknowledges government legitimacy, nowhere proposes power-sharing. The objective, stated plainly, is regime removal.

Governance potential: If the movement genuinely controls substantial territory, their claim of 75% of the Amhara region is unverified but not implausible given government forces’ concentration in urban centres, it requires administrative structures beyond military command. A politburo with designated portfolios provides the institutional foundation for nascent governance, however rudimentary.

These are not trivial developments. They represent the maturation of what began as spontaneous local defence militias into something approaching a conventional armed movement with political structures. That this occurred through Ethiopian agency, drawing on Ethiopia’s own historical examples (the Reyot discussion explicitly references the Quara Covenant’s symbolism, invoking Emperor Tewodros II’s unification struggles), should command respect rather than dismissal.

Deconstructing Dr Dagnachew’s Conspiracy Theory

Dr Dagnachew Assefa’s 26th January Andafta interview represents a genre increasingly common in Ethiopian political discourse: the unfalsifiable conspiracy theory dressed in academic credentials. His central claim, that Zemene Kassie’s prominence results from coordination between Eritrea, Egypt, and the TPLF warrants detailed examination.

The evidentiary vacuum:

Dr. Dagnachew offers zero documentation for this grand conspiracy he’s busy stitching together. No intercepted calls, no shadowy bank transfers, no trembling witnesses, not even a misplaced diplomatic Post-it note. Instead, he serves us a buffet of “must be,” “had to,” and “surely”the academic equivalent of seasoning thin soup with wishful thinking.

According to him, Fano “had to” rely on Shabiya for logistics, Egypt “must be” wiring the cash, and TPLF somehow “benefits from” Fano’s actions. These aren’t facts; they’re hypotheses dressed up in borrowed authority, strutting around like they own the place.

And then, because every weak argument needs a celebrity cameo, he starts dropping names like the former deputy PM, all while clacking his bargain-bin denture like a metronome of insecurity. You can practically hear the click-click as he rushes to reinvent and redraft his flimsy narrative, popping that denture back into place every time it threatens to escape mid-sentence. The poor thing is working harder than his evidence.

The logical incoherence: Why would the TPLF, which lost territory and political dominance partly due to Amhara mobilisation during the Tigray war, now support an armed Amhara movement? Dr Dagnachew’s answer that TPLF seeks to destabilise the federal government, ignores that TPLF has returned to participation in federal politics, holding ministerial positions and pursuing its interests through constitutional channels. Supporting Fano would undermine this strategy whilst risking renewed conflict on TPLF’s southern border.

Similarly, whilst Eritrea has historical grievances with Ethiopia and Egypt has Nile disputes, the notion that these states would coordinate with TPLF Eritrea’s bitter enemy during the Tigray war strains credulity. Dr Dagnachew asks us to believe that three actors with fundamentally opposed interests have formed an alliance whose sole purpose is elevating Zemene Kassie. This is not geopolitical analysis; it is fantasy.

The denial of agency: Most pernicious is the framework’s complete denial of Ethiopian, specifically Amhara, agency. In Dr Dagnachew’s narrative, Amhara cannot organise politically except through foreign manipulation. They cannot unite except through external pressure. They cannot resist government policies except as proxies. This Orientalist perspective presenting Ethiopians as passive objects of external forces rather than subjects of their own history, is intellectually bankrupt.

The “just war” sophistry: Dr Dagnachew invokes just war theory to argue Fano’s struggle has become illegitimate because it now pursues “regime change” rather than self-defence. This argument would carry more weight if the Ethiopian government had not spent 22 months:

• Conducting drone strikes on civilian gatherings (East Gojjam, 17th April 2025: 100+ killed at a primary school)
• Massacring civilians during house-to-house searches (Merawi, 30th January 2024: 89 dead; Birakat, 31st March 2025: 40+ dead)
• Implementing mass arrests based on ethnicity (thousands detained in Addis Ababa)
• Maintaining telecommunications blackouts preventing documentation of abuses
• Refusing all dialogue whilst insisting Fano is too fragmented to negotiate

When a government conducts systematic atrocities against an ethnic population whilst refusing political engagement, what precisely is the “just” response? Continued submission? Dr Dagnachew’s just war framework holds insurgents to standards he conspicuously avoids applying to state forces.

The Welkait canard: His claim that attributing Welkait’s capture to Fano “plays into TPLF narratives” is particularly revealing. Welkait, administratively part of Tigray but demographically mixed and historically contested, was indeed taken from TPLF control during the Tigray war but by whom? Federal forces certainly participated, but so did Amhara regional forces and local militias. Dr Dagnachew’s insistence that only federal and regional special forces deserve credit erases the role of irregular forces, essentially demanding that Fano write themselves out of their own history to avoid offending TPLF sensibilities. Why should Amhara fighters who participated in Welkait’s capture deny their role to accommodate TPLF propaganda? The absurdity is self-evident.

The Territorial Expansion Question: Real Grievances, Cynical Exploitation

The Consortium of Ethiopian Civil Associations’ (CECA) March 2025 statement about Oromo territorial expansion, particularly following the February OLF-OFC Elilly Hotel meeting, touches genuine issues whilst drawing questionable conclusions.

The OLF-OFC joint statement did indeed demand recognition of Addis Ababa (Finfinnee) as Oromia’s capital and claimed territories including Wollo, Metekel, Dire Dawa, Moyale, and Harar. These demands rest on contested historical narratives about pre-existing Oromo settlement patterns versus administrative boundaries imposed under previous regimes.

The legitimate concern: When such demands are articulated whilst Amhara civilians face documented atrocities, the timing appears deliberately provocative. Whether intended or not, it reinforces Amhara perceptions of coordinated assault military operations by government forces combined with territorial claims by Oromo political organisations. CECA’s alarm is comprehensible.

The dishonest framing: CECA characterises this as a “Prosperity Party-led Oromummaa project” involving “hatred, separation, and expansion,” suggesting government orchestration. Yet the evidence for government initiation is thin. The OLF and OFC are opposition parties; their maximalist territorial claims likely reflect internal political positioning rather than government coordination. Indeed, such demands complicate rather than assist government strategy by inflaming ethnic tensions.

Moreover, CECA’s invocation of “Orthodox Christian unity” (የተዋሕዶ) alongside territorial integrity reveals its own ethnic-religious particularism. Why should Orthodox Christianity be relevant to territorial disputes in a constitutionally secular state? This framing excludes Ethiopia’s Muslims (approximately 34% of the population), Protestants, and traditional religionists from the imagined political community CECA claims to represent.

The deeper problem: Ethiopia’s ethnic federal system has structurally incentivised zero-sum territorial competition. When political power, resource allocation, and cultural recognition all flow through ethnically-defined regional states, boundary disputes become existential rather than administrative. The constitution provides no clear mechanism for resolving these disputes beyond potentially violent referenda.

Both Oromo maximalist claims (Addis Ababa as Oromia’s capital) and Amhara maximalist claims (Welkait as eternally Amhara) rest on selective historical narratives that ignore centuries of population mixing, administrative changes, and demographic shifts. There is no neutral historical baseline to which Ethiopia can “return” only competing visions of which historical moment should be privileged.

This doesn’t mean all territorial claims are equally valid or that violence is inevitable. It means the constitutional framework itself requires fundamental reform precisely what CECA gestures towards in demanding a “new democratic constitutional order.” Yet CECA undermines this potentially productive call by framing it through explicitly Amhara-Orthodox particularism rather than genuinely pluralist principles.

What the Government Should Do (But Won’t)

The AFNM unification creates a genuine opportunity for political settlement, if the government possessed the wisdom to seize it:

Immediate confidence-building measures:

• Declare a unilateral 30-day ceasefire
• Release political prisoners, particularly high-profile detainees like Christian Tadele and Yohannes Buayalew.
• Restore telecommunications in conflict zones to allow documentation and communication
• Permit international humanitarian access to assess civilian conditions
• Establish an independent commission to investigate atrocities by all parties

Structured dialogue framework:

• Acknowledge AFNM as a legitimate interlocutor for negotiations
• Establish a neutral mediation structure, potentially involving African Union facilitation
• Develop a clear negotiating agenda addressing security sector reform, regional autonomy, constitutional amendments, and transitional justice
• Set realistic timelines with measurable milestones

Constitutional reform process:

• Initiate broad national dialogue on ethnic federalism’s future
• Consider models from other multi-ethnic federations (Switzerland, Belgium, Canada) that don’t rely on strict territorial ethnic separation
• Develop mechanisms for resolving boundary disputes without violence
• Strengthen federal institutions to provide arenas for interethnic cooperation

None of this will happen. The government’s response will likely follow predictable patterns: dismiss AFNM’s legitimacy using conspiracy theories about foreign manipulation; continue military operations whilst claiming to seek peace; make tactical concessions without strategic shifts; and hope that internal AFNM divisions will eventually re-emerge, allowing a return to the “too fragmented to negotiate” excuse.

This approach has two problems: it’s not working militarily, and it’s destroying the country politically.

The Military Stalemate Nobody Acknowledges

After 22 months of conflict, the military situation has reached equilibrium though AFNM insists the conflict has actually lasted “30 months” (counting from April 2023), suggesting their timeline includes earlier confrontations before the April 2023 state of emergency. Neither side admits stalemate:

Government forces control major urban centres, main highways, and critical infrastructure. They possess overwhelming advantages in heavy weaponry, air power, and logistics. Yet they cannot pacify the countryside, cannot prevent AFNM operations, and cannot restore civilian administration outside fortified positions. The September 2025 operations around Woldiya, Mekane Selam, and Gashena whether fully successful or partially exaggerated demonstrate that AFNM can still mount significant operations despite sustained government military pressure.

AFNM forces apparently control substantial rural territory (their claim that the regime is “reduced to a mere insurgent confined to Arat Kilo” is hyperbolic, but government territorial control is clearly limited), can operate across multiple zones, and maintain popular support sufficient to sustain operations. Their appeal to “uniformed forces and militias” reveals strategic thinking: “It is no secret to you that the regime’s source of power is not the people, but the blood of uniformed forces. Nor is it hidden from you that, for as long as the regime prolongs its grip on power, it has no regard for your lives…Understanding that your death is not for your country but for a regime that cannot be satisfied without human blood; we call on you to join the Fano struggle.”

This is sophisticated psychological warfare targeting the Ethiopian National Defence Force’s (ENDF) morale suggesting AFNM recognises it cannot defeat the ENDF militarily but might undermine it politically. Yet AFNM has not captured major cities, cannot hold territory against determined government assaults, and shows no capacity to march on Addis Ababa. Their strategy appears to be creating ungovernable space whilst waiting for political opportunities, a classic insurgent approach but one that implies protracted conflict rather than imminent victory.

This is the definition of stalemate. Neither side can achieve decisive military victory, yet both continue pursuing military solutions. The result is accumulating civilian suffering without strategic progress:

• Documented civilian deaths: Hundreds in specific incidents (Merawi 89, East Gojjam 100+, Birakat 40+), likely thousands overall
• Displacement: Tens of thousands from conflict zones
• Economic disruption: Agricultural production disrupted, markets closed, investment fled
• Humanitarian crisis: Limited access for aid organisations, potential famine conditions
• Generational trauma: Children witnessing atrocities, families fractured, communities destroyed

Dr Dagnachew’s just war question about proportionality should be directed not only at Fano but at the government prosecuting this unwinnable conflict. What political objective justifies drone-striking a primary school? What strategic necessity requires massacring civilians in house-to-house searches? What national interest is served by maintaining a stalemate that bleeds the country whilst foreclosing political solutions?

The International Dimension: Rhetoric versus Reality

Both AFNM statements and government-aligned narratives invoke international actors, though with opposite valuations:

AFNM’s claims: The movement accuses the government of coordinating with the UAE for drone strikes and receiving support from regional actors opposed to Amhara interests. The UAE connection is plausible, the country has sold military drones to Ethiopia and maintains significant economic investments. Whether this constitutes active “coordination” for anti-Amhara operations or simply arms sales to a recognised government is debatable.

Government claims: As articulated by Dr Dagnachew and others, Fano is supposedly coordinated with Eritrea, Egypt, and TPLF. We’ve addressed the evidentiary and logical problems with this narrative. Eritrea and Egypt certainly have interests in Ethiopian instability, Eritrea due to border disputes and authoritarianism’s fear of Ethiopian democratisation; Egypt due to Nile water concerns. Whether these interests translate into active Fano support is unproven.

The actual international position: External actors the African Union, United States, European Union, neighbouring states have shown limited engagement with Ethiopia’s internal conflicts post-Tigray war. The November 2022 Pretoria Agreement ending the Tigray conflict consumed enormous diplomatic capital; international appetite for mediating another Ethiopian civil war appears limited.

Interestingly, AFNM’s unity process itself involved external observers, though Ethiopian rather than international. The statement thanks “the observers’ team, comprising seven members, including Ambassador Birhane Meskel Nega and Major Dawit Wolde-Giyorgis, led by His Highness Asfawossen Asrate Kassa, for following the process impartially and for providing solutions whenever requested by the technical committee.”

The inclusion of Asfawossen Asrate Kassa first cousin of Emperor Haile Selassie and claimant to the defunct imperial throne, is symbolically loaded. It signals AFNM’s conscious connection to pre-revolutionary Ethiopian state traditions, positioning the movement within a narrative of historical continuity rather than revolutionary rupture. Whether this reflects genuine monarchist sympathies or tactical use of traditional legitimacy symbols, it demonstrates political sophistication in deploying cultural capital.

The 2026 elections present a potential inflection point, but early indications suggest international observers will be restricted (per CECA’s warnings about new civil society legislation) and legitimacy will be contested regardless of results.

Dr. Dagnachew, who now parades around calling himself Fitawrari as though he’s auditioning for a historical drama no one asked for, treats geopolitics like a village gossip session conducted under a flickering lightbulb. He invokes President Trump’s description of Ethiopia’s premier as a “strong man,” blissfully unaware that in American political snob-speak this is a polite way of saying “dictator” without having to commit to the word. But nuance has never been Dr. Dagnachew’s strong suit; he handles nuance the way a toddler handles a crystal vase.

He then drags the Trump administration’s past rhetoric on the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam into his argument, as if name-dropping global powers will magically inflate the credibility of his claims. Trump’s off‑the‑cuff remark that Egypt might “blow up” the dam caused widespread alarm, even though his administration’s actual policies were far less dramatic. But in Dr. Dagnachew’s retelling, this becomes a prophetic omen, a coded message, a geopolitical horoscope anything except what it actually was: Trump being Trump.

He goes on to warn that a second Trump administration, sworn in on 20 January 2025, could pressure Ethiopia over the Nile, perhaps leaning toward Egyptian interests. Fair enough; that’s within the realm of diplomatic possibility. But then he leaps from “could apply diplomatic or economic pressure” to “might be secretly arming insurgencies,” as though international relations operate on the same logic as his YouTube comment section.

This is where the idiocracy reaches its peak. Dr. Dagnachew treats speculation as scripture, inference as evidence, and his own imagination as a classified intelligence briefing. He delivers these pronouncements with the solemnity of a man convinced he’s unveiling state secrets, even as his arguments wobble like his self-proclaimed title and his sense of historical proportion.

In the end, his analysis isn’t analysis at all, it’s cosplay. A man playing Fitawrari with cardboard epaulettes, waving around geopolitical hypotheticals like plastic swords, hoping no one notices that the emperor of evidence has no clothes.

The reality: International actors are unlikely to resolve Ethiopia’s conflicts. The solutions, if they come, will be Ethiopian. This makes the domestic political stalemate, where government refuses dialogue and opposition pursues maximalist demands more dangerous. Without external pressure for compromise, internal dynamics tend toward escalation.

Conclusion: Unification as Ultimatum, Not Invitation

The formation of the AFNM should force a reckoning in Ethiopian political discourse. For 22 months, the government has hidden behind Fano’s fragmentation to avoid negotiations. That excuse is gone. Yet the movement’s 17th January statement reveals why the government might hesitate to engage: AFNM isn’t offering negotiation, it’s demanding capitulation.

The statement’s message to national struggle forces makes this explicit: the necessity is “shifting from resisting a genocidal war to strategic offensive action, in order to remove the regime.” Not reform the regime, not negotiate with the regime, not power-share with the regime remove the regime. The strategic objective is stated plainly throughout: “eliminating this peoples, national, and regional danger” by deposing Abiy Ahmed’s government.

This maximalism creates a paradox. AFNM has structured itself precisely as the unified interlocutor the government claimed to want. It has designated foreign affairs leadership (Brook Shileshi), established clear command hierarchy, and articulated political objectives beyond military operations. Yet those political objectives include regime change making genuine negotiation nearly impossible under standard frameworks where governments don’t negotiate their own dissolution.

Dr Dagnachew’s conspiracy theories represent one dishonest response to this reality: denying AFNM’s legitimacy through unfalsifiable claims of foreign manipulation. But the government’s likely alternative continuing military operations whilst claiming to seek peace is equally dishonest. Both approaches foreclose the difficult political work Ethiopia actually needs.

What that work entails: Acknowledging that AFNM represents genuine Amhara grievances whilst recognising that regime removal via armed struggle will likely fail militarily but succeed in destroying what remains of the Ethiopian state. The Ethiopian National Defence Force, despite losses, retains superiority in conventional capabilities; AFNM cannot march on Addis Ababa and hold it. Yet the government cannot pacify the Amhara countryside or restore functional administration. The result is indefinite low-intensity warfare, precisely the outcome both sides claim to oppose.

The path not taken would require:

For AFNM: Moderating from regime removal to genuine power-sharing demands. Articulating specific constitutional reforms, security sector arrangements, and accountability mechanisms that would address Amhara grievances without requiring government dissolution. Acknowledging that pan-Ethiopian liberation rhetoric, whilst politically useful, overstates their actual support base beyond Amhara areas.

For the government: Acknowledging AFNM as a legitimate political actor representing genuine grievances rather than dismissing them as foreign puppets. Opening negotiations without demanding prior disarmament. Accepting that ethnic federal arrangements have failed Amhara (and others) and require fundamental reform rather than military enforcement. Most critically, accepting accountability for documented atrocities the drone strikes, massacres, and mass arrests that transformed localised resistance into sustained insurgency.

For both sides: Recognising that their maximalist positions, regime removal versus insurgent destruction, cannot be achieved militarily and that continued pursuit guarantees accumulating civilian suffering without strategic progress.

None of this will happen. AFNM’s statement reveals a movement convinced of impending victory, appealing to uniformed forces to defect and calling international actors to abandon the government. The government, for its part, shows no inclination toward political compromise, having spent 22 months pursuing military solutions that demonstrably haven’t worked.

The Reyot Media discussion, whatever its own biases, at least treats Fano as a genuine political phenomenon worthy of analysis rather than a foreign puppet show. It examines internal dynamics, strategic calculations, and leadership decisions as products of Ethiopian political processes. This is the minimum standard for productive discourse.

Yet even Reyot’s enthusiastic coverage missed the implications of AFNM’s maximalist framing. The movement hasn’t created an interlocutor for negotiations; it has created a more efficient vehicle for prosecuting regime removal. Whether one applauds or deplores this depends on one’s assessment of the Abiy Ahmed government’s legitimacy. What should be undeniable is that this makes political settlement of the power-sharing, constitutional reform, transitional justice variety far more difficult.

Ethiopia cannot afford continued intellectual dishonesty from either side. The country faces genuine challenges: ethnic federal contradictions, territorial disputes, security sector reform, economic crisis, and regional instability. None of these can be addressed whilst government supporters deny AFNM legitimacy through conspiracy theories and AFNM pursues regime change through military means.

The AFNM exists. It has structure, leadership, popular support, and military capacity. It also has maximalist political objectives that cannot be achieved through armed struggle alone. Whether the government engages with this reality or continues fantasies about Eritrea, Egypt, and TPLF pulling strings will determine whether Ethiopia stumbles toward eventual political settlement or slides further into state collapse.

The choice should be obvious. That it apparently isn’t, that both sides prefer their respective myths to the difficult work of compromise, tells you everything about Ethiopia’s current political bankruptcy. AFNM’s unification hasn’t opened a pathway to peace. It has consolidated the forces prosecuting war more effectively. Until both sides recognise this, congratulations are premature.

E. Frashie is a columnist for the Ethiopian Tribune specialising in conflict analysis and political economy. The views expressed are his own.

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A Dialogue Between Two Minds

By Ms Leeshan Kuratey, Ethiopian Tribune Columnist

In an Ethiopian coffee house just off Bole Road, the air carries the familiar rich scent of roasted beans, mixed with the faint diesel fumes from the traffic outside. The jebena has been refilled twice already this morning. Two old men sit across from one another, not as adversaries in conflict, at least not today, but as companions in a long intellectual journey.

They are Dr Bira Hodu and Professor Akalu Merew. Though both are septuagenarians, their conversations are lively, sometimes acerbic, always thoughtful. What they share today is not just coffee but a deeper attempt to understand Ethiopia’s evolving strategic position a nation with growing aerial capabilities, deep internal fissures, and an enduring aspiration to regain access to the sea.

I. Two Men and a Question of Power

Dr Bira Hodu, an Oromo activist in his early seventies, has been an ardent voice in diasporic Oromummaa circles. In earlier conferences across Europe and North America, he argued passionately for the dismantling of the Ethiopian state in order to invent an independent Oromia. These days, he is a devoted supporter of Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed. His social media accounts are awash with government videos, patriotic manifestos, and paeans to Ethiopia’s rising military capabilities.

Professor Akalu Merew , Amhara by ethnicity but cosmopolitan in outlook, is a retired economist. He served as a consultant to the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, and the United Nations over several decades. He supports a modern, democratic Ethiopia where all ethnic groups, including Amharas, are treated as full citizens, not villains in a teleological narrative of oppression.

Today, their conversation part dialogue, part intellectual sparring revolves around a set of strategic questions:

What does it mean for Ethiopia to pursue air dominance? How do external powers exploit states that hold such dominance without internal consensus? And crucially, what happens when a landlocked nation aspires to reach the sea?

II. Deterrence, Hegemony, and the Sky Above

Bira stirs his coffee, eyes gleaming with the certainty that has characterised his recent writings.

“Look at us now,” he says with unrestrained pride. “Ethiopia controls its airspace. Drones, satellites, advanced aircraft, we are no longer begging. No longer passive. We are powerful.”

Professor Akalu leans back, hands folded. There is a moment’s pause a pause born not of disagreement but of depth of thought.

“Air dominance,” Akalu begins gently, “is not, in itself, a guarantee of stability. It is a capability. What transforms it into strategy is how it is embedded in politics and consensus.”

Bira’s response is immediate, confident: “Deterrence. Simple as that. No one will dare attack us.”

But Akalu’s point is more nuanced. “Deterrence assumes symmetry,” he replies. “It assumes there is a rival with enough capability to pose a threat. Yet, look around our region. Eritrea, fractured; Somalia, fragile; Sudan, fractured; Kenya, cautious. When one state dominates the skies across a region without peer competitors, others stop asking, ‘Will you strike us?’ and start asking, ‘What will you permit?’”

In other words, air dominance has the potential to become not merely deterrence but hegemony, a structural condition where Ethiopia becomes the default reference point for regional security calculations.

Bira, in characteristic fashion, counters that this is precisely the point: a strong Ethiopia that imposes no mischief but commands respect. But Akalu sees what Bira does not yet concede: strength in the sky does not automatically translate to political coherence on the ground. The key difference lies between vertical power (force from above) and horizontal consensus (consent from within).

III. Power Before Unity: The Fragile Architecture

The conversation deepens as the jebena is refilled yet again. Akalu gently presses his point.

“Vertical power, air dominance, is seductive,” he says. “It feels decisive, clean, controlled. But political legitimacy grows sideways through shared consent, mutual recognition, social contracts. When you build dominance in the air before you build unity across your society, you create a fragile structure: powerful externally but brittle internally.”

He goes on, without rancour, to expand the idea: “A state that expands its aerial capabilities without settling its internal political differences creates not deterrence, but suspended conflict. It freezes contestation without resolving it.”

Bira listens, and for the first time in their discussion, his expression softens rather than defends. “You speak as if strength is the problem.”

“No,” Akalu replies, looking into the dark coffee. “Strength without restraint is the problem and restraint is not technical, it is political.”

The distinction matters. Ethiopia’s pursuit of drones, satellites, and advanced aircraft could place it on par with mid-tier global powers in terms of technology. But technology does not reconcile narratives; it does not mend historical grievances. It does not solve issues of identity, memory, or legitimacy. In fact, without political consensus, these technologies can magnify grievances rather than diminish them.

IV. The Sea Aspiration: Renewal or Risk?

Bira brightens. The subject shifts to Ethiopia’s enduring aspiration to regain access to the sea an aspiration older than either man.

“All this talk is academic,” he says, leaning forward. “The real issue is the sea. Ethiopia must regain access. It is not just economic it is historical and existential. We were a maritime civilisation once. Why should we be landlocked forever?”

Akalu nods. “I agree on the importance of sea access. But I disagree on the timing.”

This is where their conversation becomes especially rich and complex.

Bira sees urgency in sea access as a strategic imperative: to reduce dependence on neighbours’ ports; to lower trade costs; to assert Ethiopia’s rightful place in East African commerce. The logic sounds compelling: a strong Ethiopian state should control its destiny, including access to the sea.

Akalu, however, warns of a geopolitical and strategic paradox: urgency is the most exploitable weakness in international relations.

V. Urgency as Leverage: A Quiet Mechanism of Power

“Ethiopia’s need for sea access,” Akalu explains carefully, “is well understood internationally. But international actors do not care about Ethiopia’s urgency in the same way Ethiopia does. When a state signals it cannot wait, it invites mediation, brokerage, and, ultimately, leverage.”

Here he outlines a pattern that has recurred throughout history: states that exhibit urgency in securing strategic goals whether territorial, economic, or military often do so at the cost of sovereignty over the terms of those goals.

In diplomatic terms, Akalu says, this is called asymmetric need. The Ethiopian state needs sea access more than any external power needs Ethiopia to have it. This asymmetry creates leverage for the latter. Rather than imposing terms directly, external powers offer facilitated access with conditions attached. These conditions can range from port management arrangements to security guarantees and intelligence-sharing frameworks.

“It is not that others are hostile,” Akalu continues. “They are not. But they are not neutral either. Every facilitator expects something in return.”

Bira’s initial discomfort at this observation gives way to contemplation. He had assumed that Ethiopia’s growing aerial capabilities would strengthen its negotiating position for maritime access. Akalu suggests the opposite: air dominance raises regional anxiety, and anxiety invites external management.

Suddenly, the sea once a symbol of sovereign aspiration feels more like a diplomatic minefield.

VI. Maritime Access: Pathways and Their Consequences

Akalu outlines three general pathways Ethiopia might pursue to gain maritime access, and the strategic implications of each:

1. Multilateral, Regional, Rules‑Based Access

In this pathway, Ethiopia negotiates access through regional agreements that are open, inclusive, and governed by treaty. The purpose is to avoid exclusive deals with any single power, and to emphasise cooperation among neighbours.

Advantages:

Preserves greater autonomy Encourages shared ownership of outcomes Reduces the risk of dependency on a single external actor

Challenges:

Requires time and deep political negotiation Depends on internal consolidation before external engagement May delay tangible access but strengthens sovereignty

2. Facilitated Access via a Great‑Power Broker

This involves negotiating a port lease or security arrangement with the assistance of a major power for example, the United States, China, or a coalition thereof. The facilitator acts as a guarantor of stability and may provide military backing.

Advantages:

Faster access Security backing Large investment potential

Risks:

Access becomes tied to the strategic interests of the broker Sovereignty over port usage may be compromised Ethiopia’s foreign policy flexibility could be constrained

3. Coercive or Quasi‑Coercive Drift

Here, Ethiopia’s urgency, combined with regional competition, leads to a situation where neighbours and external powers impose solutions that suit their own interests and Ethiopia is left with minimal say in the terms.

Outcomes:

Loss of strategic autonomy Port access under foreign control or heavy influence Erosion of sovereignty over time

Akalu stresses that urgency is the trigger that moves a situation from voluntary cooperation (Pathway 1) to managed or mediated access (Pathways 2 and 3). The more Ethiopia signals that it must have access immediately, the more external parties believe they can and should shape the terms.

VII. The Interaction of Air Power and Maritime Ambition

What makes this particularly complex and consequential is the interaction between Ethiopia’s aerial ambitions and its maritime aspirations.

Air dominance gives a state the illusion of freedom of action. The skies, whether through drones, satellites, or advanced fighters, feel like a domain that belongs to the state itself. It is sovereign space.

But control of airspace does not insulate a landlocked state from strategic dependencies. The sea and access to it, is governed by different physics: geography, logistics, and regional dynamics. These domains cannot be conquered; they must be negotiated.

Akalu puts it simply:

“Air power scares neighbours. Maritime dependence invites management.”

It is one thing to deter a hypothetical military threat from above. It is another to walk a diplomatic tightrope between neighbours, external powers, and economic imperatives to secure a port that functions on Ethiopia’s terms.

Moreover, urgency exacerbates this tension: while air power can be showcased and argued as deterrent or stabilising, the need for the sea is tangible, measurable, and time‑sensitive. External actors capitalise on that urgency.

VIII. Internal Consensus as a Pillar of Sovereignty

Bira listens intently as Akalu moves into what feels like the core of his argument: internal political consensus is the anchor on which all external negotiating power ultimately rests.

“The greatest vulnerability in Ethiopian strategy,” Akalu asserts, “is not air dominance, nor landlocked geography. It is political incompleteness.”

By this he means:

Deep unresolved divisions between ethnic groups Narratives that reduce complex histories into simple culprits and victims Weak mutual trust among communities Centralised governance that has yet to build robust democratic legitimacy

Without such consensus, external powers do not see a unified partner; they see a set of interests that can be balanced against each other.

“In diplomacy,” Akalu explains, “others do not negotiate with potential. They negotiate with certainty. They do not trust a state they believe cannot trust itself.”

For Bira, who has spent much of his life critiquing the Ethiopian state as oppressive and illiberal, especially towards Oromo communities,this is a challenging idea. His journey from advocating state dismantlement to supporting the current government is personal as well as ideological. But Akalu’s argument is structural, not tribal: a state that lacks internal consensus is vulnerable to external influence, regardless of its ethnic composition.

Importantly, Akalu also rejects narratives that vilify any one ethnic group as the singular source of oppression. He insists that Ethiopia’s future depends on integrating identities, not extracting blame. This idea resonates less forcefully with Bira at first, but over the course of their conversation, it becomes harder for him to dismiss.

IX. Ethiopia at the Crossroads: Sovereignty, Access, and Patience

Akalu’s final point, the most sobering , is that sovereignty cannot be rushed. It must be earned, not demanded. This is not a call to delay progress indefinitely, but rather to sequence strategy intelligently.

He offers a final framing:

Consolidate internal political consensus Build trust across regions and identities Strengthen democratic institutions Clarify how power is shared and defended Build economic alternatives Enhance land‑based trade corridors Strengthen internal infrastructure Reduce reliance on single routes Negotiate maritime access from confidence, not desperation Avoid signalling urgency Use internal resilience as leverage Engage neighbours in transparent frameworks

This sequence, Akalu argues, transforms Ethiopia into a state that is prepared, not pressured. Prepared states shape terms. Pressured states accept them.

Bira, for all his habitual confidence, admits this challenges his assumptions. There is a moment of real reflection, not defensiveness, as he considers the possibility that Ethiopia’s strength is not simply a matter of technology or symbolic assertion, but of patience and strategic timing.

X. The Silence After Words

The jebena is empty for the final time. Outside, Addis Ababa continues its restless rhythm, indifferent to the high ideas discussed within the coffee house.

Bira and Akalu rise from their seats. They have debated aerial dominance, maritime aspiration, urgency as leverage, and the necessity of internal consensus without rancour, without simplification.

As they depart in opposite directions into the bustle of the city, their conversation lingers in the air like the last wisp of coffee smoke: Ethiopia stands between the sky and the sea, and its future belongs not to those who shout the loudest, but to those who understand time, patience, and the art of negotiation.

Epilogue: Strategy Before Sovereignty

In Ethiopian politics and, indeed, in the politics of most states with complex internal identities the rush to assert power too quickly often precedes the very thing it seeks to secure.

The central insight of this dialogue is not pessimistic; it is structural:

Power without consent is brittle; urgency without resilience invites leverage.

Air power can deter external foes.

Maritime access can transform economies.

But internal consensus a shared sense of belonging, legitimate governance, and mutual trust is the only foundation on which true sovereignty can be built.

Ms Leeshan Kuratey, is Investigative Journalist, Writer, and Poet. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, Ms. Leeshan Kuratey, and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any publication, organisation, or institution. This piece is a work of political commentary, intended to provoke thought and dialogue regarding contemporary Ethiopian politics and diplomacy. 

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By E Frashie Ethiopian Tribune Columnist

There is a particular sound a civilisation makes when it is being hollowed out. It is not the noise of tanks or the crack of gunfire. It is quieter. It sounds like processions redirected, sanctuaries bypassed, authority diluted, assets questioned, and traditions politely “updated” until they no longer anchor anything at all.

That sound is now audible across Ethiopia.

Much has been written about violence, persecution, and instability in the country, and rightly so. Blood has been spilled, churches attacked, civilians displaced. But violence, for all its horror, is rarely the final stage. It is usually the blunt instrument that accompanies something more methodical: the slow dismantling of institutions that once stood between power and the individual. In Ethiopia, the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, one of the world’s oldest continuous Christian institutions, is beginning to look less like a protected faith community and more like a structure being patiently taken apart, beam by beam.

Human rights analysis often struggles with such moments because no single act appears decisive. Instead, there is accumulation. And accumulation, when ignored, becomes inevitability.

The Colours of Humiliation

In Addis Ababa this January, Orthodox believers came out for Epiphany only to be warned that wearing green, yellow, and red, the colours that once wrapped both nation and faith, could invite harassment, detention, or worse. Some complied. Others did not. The police response was not symbolic. It was physical. Meanwhile, in Gondar, senior state officials appeared in the same colours, smiling for cameras, untroubled by consequence. Law, it seems, has learnt to recognise rank.

Human rights law calls this differential treatment. Ordinary people call it humiliation.

Epiphany is not merely a festival. It is a public confession of belonging. To constrain how it is celebrated, or who may embody it safely, is to signal that faith has become conditional. Even more telling was what did not happen: the Patriarch of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church did not appear publicly to bless his flock in the capital. His words were delivered at a distance, filtered, mediated, contained. Absence, in such moments, speaks louder than speech.

Human rights frameworks tend to catalogue abuses: unlawful killings, arbitrary detention, restrictions on assembly. But they often miss what communities instinctively understand—that when religious leadership is constrained, public expression policed, and symbolism selectively punished, the issue is no longer security. It is control.

The question then becomes: control to what end?

Blood in Arsi: When Selection Replaces Chaos

The answer begins to emerge not in Addis Ababa, but in the fields and villages of Arsi.

In late October and early November 2025, civilians in Ethiopia’s Arsi and East Arsi Zones were hunted, not caught in crossfire. According to statements issued by the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, more than twenty-five Orthodox Christians were killed in a series of coordinated attacks. Churches were assaulted. Villages were emptied. Families fled with nothing but what they could carry. Survivors did not describe chaos; they described selection.

International observers often hesitate at such claims, asking for verification in active conflict zones. Yet what followed was telling. The World Council of Churches, not known for impulsive declarations, issued a pastoral letter expressing grave concern, explicitly noting that those killed were believed to be members of the Orthodox Christian community. The letter acknowledged the difficulty of independent verification, but did not dismiss the reports. On the contrary, it treated the lack of access itself as part of the danger.

When verification is impossible because fear has emptied the village, uncertainty becomes evidence of failure, not innocence.

U.S. government human rights reporting has already documented unlawful killings, arbitrary detention, and collective punishment across Ethiopia’s conflict-affected regions. What the Arsi attacks add is specificity. They show how violence, when paired with impunity, acquires direction. Communities reported little or no effective protection. Appeals went unanswered. Perpetrators were not held to account. The message to the faithful was unmistakeable: faith had become a liability.

This is not conjecture. It is now part of the congressional record in Washington.

For decades, the United States has embedded religious freedom into law, most notably through the International Religious Freedom Act of 1998. That law does not require perfection from partner states, but it does require accountability when credible evidence of abuse emerges. In response to the Arsi killings and related patterns, members of Congress have introduced a resolution condemning Ethiopia’s current trajectory and calling for targeted accountability.

The resolution does not sever ties. It does not punish the Ethiopian people. It follows a well-established principle: sovereignty cannot be invoked to shield gross violations of fundamental rights.

Yet what makes this moment particularly revealing is the reaction it has provoked. Rather than addressing the substance of the concerns, civilian killings, targeted attacks, impunity, official responses have leant heavily on deflection. Conflict is complex. Ethiopia is fragile. Stability must come first.

History offers a colder lesson. Where faith communities are targeted and the state hesitates, instability does not recede. It compounds.

Schism as Strategy: Fragmentation Along Ethnic Lines

The violence in Arsi is not an outlier. It is the visible edge of a broader process. In recent years, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church has been shaken by schisms that would once have been unthinkable. A breakaway synod in Oromia, formed outside canonical procedures, emerged amid allegations of political encouragement. A separate Tigrayan Orthodox structure declared itself autonomous following war and devastation, citing betrayal and exclusion. Both remain unrecognised by the wider Orthodox world. Both reflect something deeper than theology: the ethnicisation of faith and the politicisation of spiritual authority.

Schisms are often explained away as internal disputes. But when the state repeatedly inserts itself as mediator, arbiter, or quiet facilitator, the line between internal disagreement and external interference blurs. International human rights law is clear: freedom of religion includes the right of religious communities to govern their own affairs without state manipulation. Ethiopia’s constitution says the same. Practice, however, tells a different story.

When a prime minister’s office becomes a venue for resolving doctrinal crises, the sanctuary has already been breached.

International human rights law protects not only individuals, but communities, their ability to govern themselves, preserve continuity, and transmit belief across generations. Fragmentation imposed or encouraged from outside corrodes that right as surely as overt repression.

A Church divided against itself does not need to be banned. It can be managed.

This is where the Arsi killings matter most. They anchor the argument in blood. Without them, concerns about ideological dilution, spatial displacement, and asset vulnerability might be dismissed as paranoia. With them, the pattern sharpens. Violence clears space. Fear silences resistance. Division weakens defence. Administrative intervention finishes the job.

The Sanctuary Without Walls: Spatial Displacement and Ideological Erosion

Yet the most unsettling developments are not always the most visible. They occur not through bans, but through redirection. Increasingly, Orthodox believers are encouraged, sometimes subtly, sometimes explicitly, to leave consecrated spaces for worship, teaching, fundraising, and “spiritual programmes” held in hotels, conference halls, and public squares. These are presented as inclusive, modern, accessible. But accessibility can also be erosion.

In the Orthodox tradition, worship is inseparable from place. The Tabot, the Eucharist, incense, iconography, canon these are not aesthetic choices but theological boundaries. To relocate faith life away from them is not neutral adaptation; it is transformation.

A believer who learns to pray without the sanctuary will eventually learn to live without it.

This is where the human rights conversation must widen. International law protects not only belief, but practice, community, and continuity. When a state environment normalises the displacement of religious life from its sacred architecture, it quietly weakens a community’s ability to resist future encroachment whether legal, financial, or administrative.

Overlaying this spatial shift is an ideological one. Motivational movements, leadership seminars, and so-called “New Age” philosophies increasingly intersect with Orthodox spaces and personalities. Their language is seductive: unity, inclusivity, common values, transcendence beyond doctrine. All religions are presented as variations of the same truth, all traditions as interchangeable paths.

Dialogue between faiths is not the problem. Ethiopia has long lived such coexistence. The problem arises when particularity itself is treated as an obstacle, when doctrinal boundaries are reframed as intolerance, and sacramental discipline as backwardness.

Human rights discourse often celebrates pluralism, but pluralism that erases difference is not pluralism. It is homogenisation. And homogenisation is a gift to any state that prefers manageable spirituality to rooted faith.

Once a Church is reduced to values, it can be regulated like an NGO.

Assets and Appropriation: The Material Foundations of Independence

This brings us to the most sensitive, and most avoided issue: assets.

The fears circulating amongst Orthodox believers about financial interference and asset vulnerability must be understood in this context. Institutions are rarely stripped of resources before they are morally and socially weakened. Fragment first. Normalise detachment next. Reallocate later.

Across Ethiopia and its diaspora, Orthodox believers increasingly voice fear that the Church’s material base is being targeted, or at least prepared for targeting. These fears are often dismissed as rumours. Yet history teaches that institutions are rarely stripped of assets before they are weakened socially and morally.

The Ethiopian Orthodox Church has historically derived its independence from its material footing: land, endowments, schools, social institutions, and the financial contributions of millions of believers. A fragmented Church, divided into competing synods and ideologically diluted communities, is ill-equipped to defend that inheritance.

Even unproven allegations of interference with Church bank accounts resonate because they align with a recognisable pattern. When public trust in state institutions is low, and when the state has already demonstrated willingness to intervene in religious governance, fear becomes rational.

Human rights observers often ask for proof of intent. But intent is rarely documented in memos. It is inferred from sequence.

First the sanctuary empties. Then the account is frozen.

Human rights analysis should not ask only whether looting has occurred, but whether conditions have been created in which it could occur with minimal resistance.

Meskel Square: The Sacred Made Neutral, the Neutral Made Managed

Symbolism matters here. Meskel Square, once a consecrated civic heart, has been reimagined as a neutral space where all religious rituals are equally hosted by state design. On paper, this sounds inclusive. In practice, it dissolves the distinction between sacred memory and administrative convenience. Inclusivity is the language. Desacralisation is the effect. A sacred square turned neutral today becomes a regulated venue tomorrow. A regulated venue becomes state property.

The danger is not that other faiths gather there. It is that no faith truly owns it anymore.

What is at stake here is not privilege. It is survival survival of a religious community as a self-governing, materially independent, spiritually coherent body.

The Convergence: From Accumulation to Trajectory

What is unfolding, then, is not a single human rights violation but a convergence: restrictions on expression, politicised schisms, ideological dilution, spatial displacement, targeted violence, and creeping asset vulnerability. Each on its own can be debated. Together, they form a trajectory.

This is what many Ethiopian Orthodox believers mean when they speak of “the writing on the wall”. Not prophecy in the mystical sense, but pattern recognition born of history. They remember emperors and regimes that tried to subordinate the Church and failed. They also remember quieter moments when compromise preceded collapse.

The Arsi killings force the question that polite diplomacy avoids: how many warnings must accumulate before action is taken? How many pastoral letters, congressional resolutions, and documented deaths are required before the international community acknowledges that something structural is under way?

Human rights law was not written for comfortable cases. It exists for moments like this when violence, repression, and institutional erosion converge, and when waiting for absolute certainty becomes a moral failure.

Human rights institutions tend to intervene when blood is visible. By then, the deeper work is often done.

What Now? Silence as Permission

The question now facing Ethiopia and those who claim partnership with it is whether religious freedom will be treated as a living principle or as a rhetorical relic. International law does not require perfection. It requires good faith, non-interference, and accountability. What it does not tolerate is the systematic weakening of a faith community under the guise of modernisation, security, or inclusivity.

Silence in the face of targeted killing is not neutrality. Silence in the face of slow dismantling is complicity.

For Ethiopian Orthodox Christians, the fear is not merely of persecution, but of replacement, replacement of sacrament with sentiment, canon with conference, inheritance with managed spirituality. For human rights observers, the danger is missing the moment because it does not yet fit the familiar template of repression.

By the time the sanctuary stands empty, the blood will have dried, the assets will have moved, and the language of concern will sound quaint.

The writing is already on the wall. The question is who is still willing to read it.

E Frashie is a columnist for the Ethiopian Tribune, writing on human rights, religious freedom, and institutional integrity in the Horn of Africa.

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By Sewasew Teklemariam

President Donald Trump’s attempt to resurrect American mediation over the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam has landed with a resounding thud in Addis Ababa, where Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s conspicuous silence speaks volumes about a leader cornered by domestic insurgencies, economic collapse, and a sophisticated Egyptian encirclement strategy that threatens to render Ethiopia diplomatically irrelevant in the Horn of Africa.

The American president’s 16 January letter to Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sissi, proposing guaranteed water releases in exchange for Ethiopian electricity generation, drew immediate praise from Cairo and Khartoum. Yet four days later, Ethiopia’s government has offered no public response, a diplomatic snub that masks a far grimmer reality: Abiy Ahmed, once feted as Africa’s great reformer and Nobel laureate, now presides over a fragmentating nation with few cards left to play.

The $5 billion GERD, completed and inaugurated last September, stands as perhaps the sole unifying achievement in a premiership otherwise marked by carnage and failure. But whilst the dam generates electricity, it has also generated something far more dangerous a regional alliance explicitly designed to isolate Ethiopia and exploit every strategic vulnerability that Abiy’s chaotic governance has created or exacerbated.

Egypt has not simply objected to the dam; it has methodically constructed an anti-Ethiopian coalition with Somalia and Eritrea that transforms a water dispute into an existential threat to Ethiopian interests across multiple fronts. In recent months, Egyptian military equipment and personnel have poured into Mogadishu, ostensibly for peacekeeping but practically establishing a forward operating base on Ethiopia’s eastern flank. This followed Abiy’s catastrophically ill-judged memorandum of understanding with Somaliland in January 2024, offering recognition to the breakaway region in exchange for Red Sea port access a deal that remains unimplemented but succeeded brilliantly in handing Egypt a regional ally and grievance.

The numbers tell a stark story. Egypt has deployed an estimated 5,000 troops to Somalia under African Union arrangements, with advanced weaponry including armoured vehicles and air defence systems, far exceeding typical peacekeeping requirements. Egyptian military instructors now train Somali forces in tactics suspiciously well-suited to conventional warfare rather than counterinsurgency against Al-Shabaab. For a country that has lacked direct maritime access since Eritrean independence in 1993, and whose 120 million people depend on Djibouti for over 90 per cent of international trade, this Egyptian military presence represents a dagger pointed at Ethiopia’s most vulnerable pressure point.

Cairo’s rapprochement with Eritrean President Isaias Afwerki adds a northern dimension to this strategic vice. The two leaders have exchanged multiple high-level visits since 2023, with Egypt pledging economic support and diplomatic backing to one of the world’s most isolated regimes. This represents a spectacular reversal of Abiy’s signature foreign policy achievement the 2018 peace deal with Eritrea that earned him the Nobel Prize. That rapprochement has utterly collapsed, poisoned by Eritrea’s brutal participation in the Tigray War and Abiy’s increasingly transparent designs on the Eritrean port of Assab.

Intelligence assessments shared with this newspaper suggest Abiy has explored options for destabilising or even toppling Isaias’s government, calculating that a post-Isaias Eritrea might grant Ethiopia the Red Sea access that obsesses the prime minister. Such schemes represent breathtaking hubris. Isaias has survived 31 years of authoritarian rule through ruthless efficiency and an extensive security apparatus. Any Ethiopian attempt to foment regime change would unite Eritrea’s notoriously independent population against the very nation they fought a bitter independence war to escape.

The Egyptian strategy achieves multiple objectives simultaneously. Diplomatically, it positions Egypt as the defender of Somali territorial integrity and Eritrean sovereignty against Ethiopian expansionism a narrative that resonates across Africa, where colonial borders remain sacrosanct despite their arbitrariness. Economically, coordinated policies between Egypt, Somalia, and Eritrea can throttle Ethiopian trade and investment at a moment when Addis Ababa desperately needs both. Militarily, it forces Ethiopia to contemplate threats from north, east, and west whilst already managing devastating internal insurgencies.

Those insurgencies represent the most immediate threat to Abiy’s survival. The Fano militia in Amhara region has fought federal forces to a stalemate since mid-2023, controlling significant rural territory and launching attacks on major towns. Conservative estimates suggest 5,000 combatants killed and over 400,000 displaced, though actual figures are likely far higher given information restrictions. The conflict erupted after Abiy attempted to dismantle regional special forces, a move the Amhara community interpreted as deliberate weakening of their defensive capabilities.

In Oromia, Abiy’s own ethnic homeland, the Oromo Liberation Army has sustained a guerrilla campaign throughout his entire premiership, controlling portions of western and southern Oromia and regularly ambushing federal convoys. The government claims to have killed or captured thousands of OLA fighters; the OLA claims to have inflicted similar casualties on federal forces. What is certain is that neither side is winning, and the conflict shows no sign of abating.

These current wars follow the apocalyptic Tigray conflict of 2020-2022, which killed an estimated 600,000 people through combat, starvation, and disease. International investigations documented war crimes, crimes against humanity, and ethnic cleansing by all parties, with particular condemnation for the use of starvation as a weapon and mass sexual violence. The November 2022 ceasefire has largely held, but Tigray’s reconstruction has barely begun, basic services remain collapsed, and federal forces continue to occupy disputed territories.

The economic toll of perpetual conflict has been catastrophic. Ethiopia’s economy, once Africa’s fastest-growing with annual GDP growth exceeding 10 per cent in the early 2010s, has contracted to an estimated 2.5 per cent growth barely keeping pace with population increase. Inflation reached 28.6 per cent in 2024, devastating purchasing power for ordinary Ethiopians. Foreign currency reserves have dwindled to cover barely six weeks of imports, crippling the country’s ability to purchase essential goods.

In December 2024, Ethiopia defaulted on its $33 million sovereign bond payment, becoming the third African nation to default in recent years. The government has entered prolonged debt restructuring negotiations with international creditors, but the underlying fiscal crisis remains unresolved. External debt stands at approximately $28 billion, whilst domestic obligations have ballooned as the government finances military operations through deficit spending and central bank financing.

Against this backdrop of violence and economic collapse, Abiy has pursued vanity projects that reveal a leader obsessed with visible legacy-building rather than governance fundamentals. The “Beautifying Sheger” transformation of Addis Ababa has demolished an estimated 12,000 homes and 5,000 businesses since 2020, displacing over 80,000 residents to make way for parks, modern boulevards, and upscale developments. Compensation has been inadequate and inconsistent, with many displaced families receiving payments insufficient to secure alternative housing in the city.

The Green Legacy Initiative claims to have planted 25 billion trees since 2019, with elaborate ceremonies and international publicity accompanying each year’s planting season. Independent assessments suggest survival rates of planted seedlings range from 20 to 40 per cent, meaning actual afforestation falls dramatically short of official claims. More fundamentally, the initiative addresses symptoms rather than causes of environmental degradation ongoing deforestation driven by agricultural expansion, charcoal production, and displacement from conflict zones.

These legacy projects consume resources whilst basic state functions collapse. Teacher salaries remain unpaid for months in some regions, hospitals lack essential medicines and equipment, and road maintenance has effectively ceased outside major corridors. The contrast between gleaming new parks in Addis Ababa and collapsing schools in rural areas has become a potent symbol of Abiy’s warped priorities.

The GERD fits perfectly within this pattern a massive, photogenic symbol of Ethiopian development that can be inaugurated with fanfare whilst fundamental questions about its operation remain unresolved. The dam’s 74-billion-cubic-metre reservoir stores more than the entire annual flow of the Blue Nile, giving Ethiopia theoretical capacity to regulate the river’s flow at will. Egypt, which depends on the Nile for 90 per cent of its water supply and supports 110 million people, views this as an existential threat requiring legally binding operational guarantees.

Ethiopia has refused such guarantees, offering only non-binding guidelines and asserting absolute sovereign control over dam operations. This position enjoys genuine cross-ethnic support within Ethiopia perhaps the only issue that still does. Polling by the Ethiopian Strategic Studies Institute in late 2024 found 89 per cent support for “refusing external interference in GERD operations,” one of the few policies commanding such consensus in a deeply fractured nation.

For Abiy, accepting Trump’s mediation, particularly mediation that might impose operational constraints, would be political suicide. The 2021 general election, which his Prosperity Party won with 410 of 436 contested seats, is widely dismissed as a sham. The poll excluded Tigray entirely due to war, opposition parties faced systematic harassment and intimidation, and international observers noted pervasive irregularities. As Ethiopia approaches its next electoral cycle, tentatively scheduled for 2026, Abiy’s popularity has plummeted across all major ethnic groups except portions of the Oromo elite who benefit from his patronage.

The Amhara community, once a pillar of support, has turned decisively hostile following the Fano insurgency and perceived favouritism toward Oromo interests. Tigrayans view him as a war criminal responsible for mass atrocities. Even within Oromia, significant segments support the OLA or view Abiy as a traitor who abandoned Oromo nationalist aspirations for personal power. Surrendering control over the GERD would eliminate one of his few remaining nationalist credentials and invite immediate accusations of capitulation to neo-colonial pressure.

This domestic weakness makes Abiy an exceptionally unpredictable negotiating partner a leader who needs victories, not compromises, and who may calculate that limited confrontation could rally nationalist support. His relationship with the United Arab Emirates provides both resources and diplomatic cover for defiance of Western pressure. UAE investment in Ethiopia has exceeded $3 billion since 2021, concentrated in infrastructure, agriculture, and logistics. Abu Dhabi has also provided military equipment and intelligence cooperation for Abiy’s counterinsurgency campaigns, support that proved crucial during the Tigray War.

The UAE connection serves Abiy’s broader strategy of courting non-Western powers as counterweights to American and European influence. China constructed the GERD’s turbines and provided crucial technical expertise; Russian grain shipments have partially offset Ethiopia’s food security crisis; Indian investment has targeted manufacturing and pharmaceuticals. This diversification allows Abiy to resist Western mediation whilst maintaining alternative sources of finance, trade, and diplomatic support.

Trump’s mediation proposal guaranteeing water security for Egypt whilst allowing substantial electricity generation, with potential Ethiopian power sales to Egypt represents creative diplomacy that acknowledges legitimate interests on all sides. The framework’s energy-for-water component could theoretically generate $500 million to $1 billion annually for Ethiopia through electricity exports, desperately needed revenue for a country with minimal foreign currency reserves. Such economic integration would create interdependence that makes conflict costlier for all parties.

Yet the proposal’s viability depends entirely on Ethiopian willingness to engage, and Abiy’s silence through 20 January suggests that willingness is absent. From Addis Ababa’s perspective, Trump’s intervention appears as another iteration of great power interference dressed in conciliatory language. The president’s warning against “major military conflict” may actually reinforce Ethiopian determination to resist negotiations perceived as conducted under implicit threat, particularly given Egypt’s overwhelming conventional military superiority.

Egypt operates approximately 1,100 combat aircraft including advanced F-16s and Rafales; Ethiopia fields fewer than 80, many of questionable operational readiness after years of conflict. Egyptian air superiority would be decisive in any military confrontation, and the GERD’s massive concrete structure, whilst resilient, could be damaged by sustained precision strikes on critical infrastructure including turbines and spillways.

Military conflict remains unlikely the costs and risks for all parties are enormous, and neither Abiy nor el-Sissi appears eager for war. But limited military action, proxy conflicts, or coercive diplomacy backed by military mobilisation represent genuine possibilities if negotiations remain deadlocked. Egypt’s military deployments to Somalia create infrastructure for pressure campaigns short of direct confrontation. Ethiopian support for opposition groups in Egypt’s restive Sinai Peninsula or western desert could trigger Egyptian retaliation. Border incidents between Ethiopian and Eritrean forces could escalate rapidly given the mutual animosity.

The Sudanese dimension adds further complexity and risk. Sudan’s civil war, which erupted in April 2023 between the Sudanese Armed Forces and Rapid Support Forces, has killed an estimated 15,000 combatants and civilians and displaced over 6 million people. Both Egypt and Ethiopia have been accused of supporting different factions as proxies for their broader rivalry, transforming Sudan from potential mediator into another venue for their confrontation.

General Abdel-Fattah Burhan’s government, which controls Khartoum and portions of eastern Sudan, has aligned firmly with Egypt on the GERD dispute. Sudan shares Egypt’s concerns about downstream water security the Blue Nile provides approximately 60 per cent of Sudan’s water resources and irrigates vast agricultural areas. The Sudanese government has consistently demanded legally binding operational agreements, warning that uncontrolled GERD operations could devastate Sudanese agriculture and flood control systems that depend on predictable Nile flows.

Yet Sudan’s internal chaos means it exercises minimal independent influence over negotiations. The SAF controls perhaps 40 per cent of Sudan’s territory, the RSF controls another 30 per cent, and the remainder is contested or ungoverned. This fragmentation eliminates Sudan as an effective diplomatic player, reducing the dispute to an Egyptian-Ethiopian confrontation with Khartoum as supporting actor.

The ultimate irony is that both nations’ strategies may produce outcomes neither desires. Ethiopia’s defiance and Egypt’s encirclement are creating a militarised, unstable Horn of Africa where water security remains unresolved, economic development is hampered by perpetual conflict, and armed confrontation remains perpetually possible. Trump’s mediation offers a potential exit from this trajectory, linking water security with energy cooperation in ways that could benefit all parties.

But that exit requires an Ethiopian government willing and able to engage seriously and Abiy Ahmed’s government is neither. Cornered domestically, isolated regionally, and obsessed with legacy projects that substitute for actual governance, Abiy has few incentives for compromise and many reasons to maintain defiance as nationalist credential. His silence in response to Trump’s offer is not diplomatic calculation but political necessity for a leader whose remaining support depends on refusing external pressure, however reasonable that pressure might be.

Egypt’s strategy of regional isolation, whilst strategically sound, may actually deepen this dynamic by reinforcing Abiy’s siege mentality and conviction that compromise represents surrender. The encirclement with Somalia and Eritrea creates multiple pressure points but also eliminates potential diplomatic off-ramps by making any Ethiopian concession appear as capitulation to coordinated external coercion.

The GERD will continue operating, the Nile will continue flowing, and the dispute will continue festering a monument not to Ethiopian development but to nationalism untethered from pragmatism, and to the catastrophic costs of leadership driven by vanity rather than wisdom. Whether that changes depends less on Trump’s diplomatic creativity than on whether a politically desperate prime minister, presiding over a fragmenting nation, can afford the domestic cost of compromise. History suggests he cannot. The silence from Addis Ababa is answer enough.

Sewasew Teklemariam is a columnist for Ethiopian Tribune

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Ethiopian Tribune. This analysis represents the author’s interpretation of publicly available information and regional developments. Ethiopian Tribune publishes diverse perspectives to foster informed debate on issues of national and regional importance. Readers are encouraged to seek multiple sources and form their own conclusions on these complex matters.

About Post Author

Ethiopian Tribune editor

editor@ethiopiantribune.com

https://ethiopiantribune.com

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ከመምህር ዘመድኩን በቀለ

“…ትናንት አርሲ መርቲ ጀጁ ወረዳ ከቦሌ ወደ አቦምሳ ሲጓዝ የነበረን የትራንስፖርት መኪና አስቁመው የኦሮሞ ወሀቢይ እስላሚስቶቹ ተሳፋሪዎቹን እና ረዳቱን ይዘው ሲሄዱ ሹፌሩን እዚያው ማረዳቸው ተነግሯል። ሌላም ሀንቀሎ ዋቤ ወረዳ ሃታት ቀበሌም ላይ አንድ ኦርቶዶክሳዊ መተራዱም ተሰምቷል። ጭፍጨፋው እንደቀጠለ ነው።

“…ይሄንን የኦርቶዶክሳውያን የእርድ እና የዘር ጭፍጨፋ አጀንዳ ለመቀልበስ፣ ለማስቀየስም ሲባል የኦሮሞ ብልግና ፓርቲ ቀድሞውኑ የነዳጅ ጭማሪውን አጀንዳ ለማስቀየስ እና ሕዝቡን በአጀንዳ ለማጇከብ ሲሉ ውኃ በማያነሣ ክስ ራቁታቸውን ከወጡ ቲክቶከሮች ጋር አጃምለው ያሰሩትን ካናዳዊውን የሰግጥ ፈምስ፣ ደድብ ባለቤት ቲክቶከር አዶናይን ዛሬ ምሽቱን ከእስር ቤት ፈትተው ለቀውታል። ያውም በጭለማ 😂

“…ቲክቶከሩ ፍርድ ቤት ቀርቦ በፍርድ ቤት ፖሊስ የ14 ቀን የጊዜ ቀጠሮ ጠይቆበት የነበረ እና ፍርድቤቱም ፖሊስ የጠየቀውን የ14 ቀን ጊዜ ቀጠሮ ፈቅዶለት የነበረ ቢሆንም በመሃል ግን በዛሬው ዕለት የኦሮሞ አባ ገዳዎች ነን ያሉ የምሥራቅ አሩሲ ኗሪ አባ ገዳዎች መኪና ሞልተው ወደ አዲስ አበባ በመምጣት የኦሮሙማ መንግሥታቸውን በገዳ ሥርዓት መሠረት ሽምግልና ጠይቀው ከፍርድ ቤት ቀጠሮ በፊት ዛሬ ምሽት ከፖሊስ ጣቢያ አማላጅ ሆነው፣ በዚያውም የገዳ ሥርዓት ማስታወቂያ ተሠርቶለት ተጠርጣሪው ከእስር እንዲወጣ መደረጉ ነው የተሰማው።

“…አሁን ምሽቱን በቲክቶክ መንደር የሰግጥ መፈታት የፌስቡኩንም ሰፈር በሰበር ዜና እንዲጥለቀለቅ ተደርጓል። አዳሜና ሔዋኔ ከምሥራቅ አሩሲ ክርስቲያኖች ከሚታረዱበት ምድር የመጡና ከፍርድ ቤት በላይ ሆነው ለወጉ ያህል እንኳ የፍርድ ሂደቱን አክብረው ለማሳየት ትእግስት ያጣው ቡድን ማኖ ነክቶ ሲምበጫበጭ አክቲቪስቱና ቲክቶከሩ ሁላ ደግሞ “የገዳ ሥርዓት ፍቅር ነው” እያለ ነው። የትግሬ አክቲቪስትና የቲክቶከሩ አድናቂዎች ፌሽታ ላይ ናቸው። ሲጀመር ልጁን ያሰሩት ለነዳጅ ጭማሪው ማስቀየሻ አጀንዳ ብለው ነበር እናም ይፈቱታል የልጁ እስርም አሳማኝ አይደለም ብለን አስቀድመን የተናገርነው ነው ዛሬ ምሽት የተፈጸመው። ነውርን አስሮ ማጀገን ነበር የተፈለገው። አድርገውታል ልጁ ግን ከዚህ በኋላ አዲዮስ ከሽፏል።

“…በኋላኛው ዘመን የዘመኑ ፍጻሜም በደረሰ ጊዜ በነፃ ዝውውር የትግሬዎቹ አክቲቪስት ወደ መሆን የተሸጋገረው፣ መቀሌ ድረስ በመሄድም የተሸለመው የሀረርጌው መራታ ደሩ ዘሀረሩ እና ሌሎችም የኦሮሞ አክቲቪስቶች የተናገሩትን አስምሩበት። እንዲህ ነው ያሉት። “…ሕወሓቶች አዶናይን ልክ እንደ ሀጫሉ ሁንዴሳ ገድለው የተበታተነውን የትግሬ ፖለቲካ እና ፖለቲከኛ ወደ አንድነት ሊያመጡበት አቅደው ነበር። ብልፅግና ያ መረጃ ስለደረሰው ነው ልጁን በቶሎ ይዞ ያሰረው” በማለት ነበር ሲናገሩ የነበረው። እዚህ ጋር ያዙልኝ።

“…ስለዚህ ቲክቶከሩ ከሰማ ይመከር። እንደኔ እንደኔ ልጁ በዜግነት ካናዳዊ ነው። እኛ የማናውቀው ነገር ኖሮ ወደ ካናዳ ለመመለስ የማያስችለው እና ኢትዮጵያ የሚያስቀረው ጉዳይ ከሌለ በቀር ቶሎ ቢነካው መልካም ነው ባይ ነኝ። ያውም ከፍርድ ቤት ቀጠሮ ውጪ የፍርድ ቤትን መብትና ክብር ጥሰው፣ የሕግ የበላይነትን ደፍጥጠው ሲያበቁ ከምሥራቅ አሩሲ፣ ከሻሸመኔ በመጡ አባ ገዳዎች፣ በእነ ማይኮ ቲክቶከር እና በባልየው ማንትስ ቢሊየነር አማካኝነት አስቀድመው በማይኮ በኩል ሲዝቱበት የቆዩትን ቲክቶከር ዛሬ ደግሞ በአንደዜ ተለውጠው ሽማግሌም ሆነው ያስወጡትን ሰዎች ብዙም ባያምናቸው ጥሩ ነው ባይ ነኝ። ቲክቶሩ ከተቻለው በዜግነት ካናዳዊ ነውና በቶሎ ወደ እናት ሀገሩ ካናዳ ቢመለስ መልካም ነው ባይ ነኝ። ያለበለዚያ ሁለቱም ወያኔም ኦህዴድ ኦነግም ቁማር ነው የሚጫወቱበት። ወያኔ ሀውዜን ላይ ደርግ በጀቴ ሕዝቡን እንዲጨፈጭፍ አስደርጋ ትግሬን ከጎኗ እንዳሰለፈች፣ ኦህዴድም ወለጋ ላይ ዐማራን አርዶ፣ ፓርላማ ጠርቶ፣ ዐማሮችን አስለቅሶ፣ በወያኔ ላይ ሀገሩን ሁሉ አሰልፎ፣ እነሀጫሉን ሰውተው ፖለቲካ እንደሠሩት አዶናይንም ጭዳ እንዳያደርጉት እሰጋለሁ። ለሀጫሉ ያልራሩ ለዚህ ይራራሉ የሚል እምነት የለኝም። ምክር ነው። ምክሬ ይደብራል፣ ይጎመዝዛል፣ ነገር ግን ጨክኖ ምክሬን መዋጥ ፈውስ ይሰጣል።

“…በሌላ በኩል ሰሞኑን የብሔራዊ መታወቂያ ፕሮግራም እና ብሔራዊ ባንክ እስከ ሚያዚያ 30 በግዳጅ እንዲተገበር ባወጡት action plan መሠረት ሁሉም ባንክ የሚጠቀሙ ደንበኞች ሒሳባቸውን በፋይዳ ዲጅታል መታወቂያ ካላዘመኑ ሒሳባቸውን መጠቀም እንዳይችሉ ጥብቅ መመሪያ አስተላልፏል። ባንኮችም ጥብቁን መመሪያ እየተገበሩት ይገኛሉ።

“…አሳሳቢው ነገር ለቴሌና ሳፋሪኮም የተሰጠው ጥብቅ ትእዛዝ ነው። ይኼውም መመሪያ የእያንዳንዱ ሰው ስልክ ቁጥር በፋይዳ እንዲተሳሰር እና በተጠቀሰው ጊዜ ውስጥ ካልተሳሰረ አገልግሎቱ እንዲቋረጥ ማዘዙ ነው። በተለይ በተለይ በዚህ ደግሞ የዐማራ ፋኖ እና የፋኖ ደጋፊ የመረጃ ሰዎች ከባድ ችግር ይገጥማቸዋል ተብሎ ይሰጋል። ፋኖዎችም እንደ ዋትስአፕ እና መሠል የማኅበራዊ ሚዲያ አፖችን ለግኑኘት ካልተጠቀሙ በቀር ከባድ ይሆናል። ይኼም ቢሆን የኔትወርክ ችግር ሊኖር ስለሚችል ውጤታማ ላያደርጋቸው ይችላል። ስለሆነም ዘመዴ ምናልባት ይሄ መልእክት እንደ መረጃ ከጠቀማቻው መልእክቱን ብታጋራቸው እና ከወዲሁ ሌላ አማራጮችን እንዲያስቡ ቢደረግ መልካም ነው የሚል መረጃን ወፎቼ አድርሰውኛል። ይሄ መረጃ አስቀድሞ የደረሳቸው የጎጃም ፋኖዎችም መግለጫ አውጥተው አይቻለሁ። ምንአልባትም ከዚህ በኋላ ፋኖም ባንኮችን ሳይነካ መጠበቁ ቀርቶ ልክ እንደ ኦነግ ሸኔ ለዘረፋ እንዳይነሳሳ እሰጋለሁ። በመጨረሻም መልእክቴ አንድና አንድ ነው።

• እኔ በበኩሌ አጀንዳ አልቀይርም ‼

• በአሩሲ የኦርቶዶክሳውያን ጭፍጨፋ ይቁም‼

መምህር ዘመድኩን በቀለ ብዙ ተከታይ ያፈራ ተፅእኖ ፈጣሪ እና ብሮድካሰተር ነው። ከላይ የተገከፁት አሰተዉሎዎች የተወሰዱት በፀሐፊው ተዘጋጅቶ ከቀረበው ከቴሌግራም ቻነሉ ነው። The views expressed are his own.

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Ethiopian Tribune editor

editor@ethiopiantribune.com

https://ethiopiantribune.com

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