ANALYSIS · ETHIOPIA AND THE UNITED STATES

Forty-Eight Hours in Two Capitals

In Washington, a Tigrayan-born critic of the Ethiopian state won a seat in Congress and an Ethiopian-American admitted to spying for Addis Ababa. In Addis Ababa, the authorities silenced the country’s oldest independent newspaper. A tale of two cities, and what it costs the Ethiopian government.

By E. Frashie · 5 November 2026

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Dickens wrote of London and Paris on the eve of revolution. The two cities in this story are Washington and Addis Ababa, and the span is not a decade but roughly forty-eight hours, from Monday 2 November to the small hours of Wednesday 4 November 2026. In that window, three things happened that the Ethiopian government would, for different reasons, have preferred not to happen at all, or at least not at the same time.

On Monday, Ethiopia’s media regulator suspended The Reporter, the country’s oldest surviving independent newspaper, indefinitely. On Tuesday, in a federal courtroom in Washington, a former US government contractor pleaded guilty to passing top-secret American intelligence to Ethiopian officials so that they could use it against armed opponents of the state. And on Tuesday night, the voters of Denver sent to Congress a 29-year-old Ethiopian-born lawyer of Tigrayan origin who has spent years accusing the Ethiopian and Eritrean governments of genocide.

Each story has been reported on its own. Read together, they describe a government that is narrowing the space for scrutiny at home just as it is losing control of how it is seen abroad.

Washington I: The Ballot

Melat Kiros won Colorado’s 1st Congressional District with roughly 78 per cent of the vote, defeating the Republican Christy Peterson and the independent Shimon Blau. The Associated Press called the race on election night. The general election was a formality in a safe Democratic seat; the real contest came in June, when she ended the 29-year congressional career of Diana DeGette in the Democratic primary, winning the certified count by 53.2 per cent to 39.8.

She arrives in Washington as the first Generation Z woman elected to Congress and the first Black woman to represent Colorado in the House. She is a democratic socialist, endorsed by the DSA, Justice Democrats and Senator Bernie Sanders. Her campaign was about rents, healthcare and corporate money in politics, and, most controversially, about Gaza. She was fired from a New York law firm in 2023 after refusing to take down an essay defending student protesters.

That essay is where Ethiopia enters the story. Born in Addis Ababa and raised in Denver after her father won the US diversity visa lottery, Kiros wrote it explicitly as a woman from Tigray. In it she described the war of 2020–22 as genocidal and named the perpetrators as the Ethiopian and Eritrean governments. She wrote of three years spent alongside the Tigrayan diaspora pressing for international recognition, and of her father being in Mekelle during the official mourning period of October 2023. In a Denver interview this July, she again described a genocide in Tigray and warned that conflict there might be erupting again. Within weeks, it was.

“Addis Ababa now faces, inside the US legislature, a member whose formative political cause was the indictment of the Ethiopian state.”

Some caution is in order. Kiros campaigned on Denver, not on the Horn of Africa, and a first-term member of the House has little direct leverage over foreign policy. Her rhetoric on Tigray has also been contested from more than one direction: one critic, writing in the pro-Israel JNS, accused her of using Tigray selectively to sharpen her case on Gaza, while some in the Ethiopian diaspora dispute the genocide framing she adopts. And, contrary to what is being said in some diaspora circles, there is no public record of any organisational tie between Kiros and the TPLF. Her stated position is an indictment of Addis Ababa and Asmara, not an endorsement of any Tigrayan faction.

But the symbolism matters, and so does the platform. A member of Congress can write letters, place statements in the record, question officials at hearings, and give visibility to constituents and advocates. For a government that has spent years insisting that the language of genocide is a foreign fabrication, a voice of that kind inside the institution that shapes American aid and sanctions policy is not a trivial development.

Washington II: The Courtroom

The same day Denver voted, Abraham Teklu Lemma, a 54-year-old naturalised American of Ethiopian descent from Silver Spring, Maryland, pleaded guilty to conspiring to transmit US national defence information to the government of the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia. The US Attorney for the District of Columbia, Jeanine Pirro, announced the plea; the Justice Department’s national security division called it an extraordinary betrayal.

The facts admitted are stark. Lemma worked as an IT contractor at the State Department, the Justice Department and the National Reconnaissance Office, holding a top-secret clearance. From 2021 until his arrest in August 2023, he removed classified material, including satellite imagery, maps and intelligence reports, from secure facilities and sent it to senior Ethiopian officials in political, military and intelligence roles. According to prosecutors, he hoped the material would help those officials target and kill paramilitary fighters in a regional conflict, and urged them to finish their armed opponents once and for all. Associated Press reporting says he encouraged the use of drones. An FBI counterintelligence official said Lemma admitted that Ethiopian officials used the intelligence in military operations.

The Justice Department has not named the conflict or the armed groups. The period covered, 2021 to 2023, spans the Tigray war, the Amhara insurgency and the conflict in Oromia, and those distinctions matter: which civilians lived beneath which drone strikes is the question this case raises and does not yet answer. Lemma faces between ten years and twenty-one years and ten months under the plea agreement, subject to the court’s approval, and is due to be sentenced on 14 April 2027. The Ethiopian government has made no public statement.

“A government that suspends a newspaper for harming diplomacy has just been named in an American espionage plea.”

Addis Ababa: The Silence

On Monday 2 November, the Ethiopian Media Authority announced on Facebook that it had suspended, indefinitely and with immediate effect, the registration of Media and Communication Center PLC, publisher of the Amharic Reporter and the English-language The Reporter, together with its digital platforms. The authority invoked Media Proclamation No. 1238/2021 and said a year of monitoring had found repeated legal and ethical breaches.

The charges were vague in the way such charges usually are: content contrary to Ethiopia’s national interests; sensationalised coverage of sensitive political and economic matters; selective reporting from national forums; and distorted information harmful to foreign investment, tourism and diplomacy. The suspension is to last until the paper meets what the authority calls its legal and professional obligations, conditions it did not define.

The timing was pointed. Two days earlier, The Reporter had run an editorial titled “Press Freedom Is Not A Luxury!”, warning that Ethiopia’s private press was in one of the most precarious periods in its history. The suspension fell on the UN’s International Day to End Impunity for Crimes against Journalists. The paper had already been barred from covering the House of Peoples’ Representatives since late last year, and its journalists have been arrested before. Human Rights Watch notes that it was the country’s last privately owned Amharic newspaper.

The pattern is familiar to readers of this paper. Ethiopia ranks 148th of 180 countries in the Reporters Without Borders index; RSF counts five journalists in detention, four of them on terrorism charges. This year alone has seen the expulsion of the French correspondent Augustine Passilly, and further licence actions against other outlets. The Reporter, a bilingual institution of more than two decades, is not a partisan or fringe outlet. That is precisely why its suspension is a statement.

The Ledger: What It Costs Addis Ababa

Put the three stories side by side, and the contradictions become the analysis.

The diplomacy charge turned inside out. The Media Authority suspended The Reporter partly for publishing content that harms Ethiopia’s diplomacy. Within a day, a US federal court recorded that officials of the Ethiopian government had received stolen top-secret American intelligence for more than two years. No headline in an Addis Ababa newspaper could do the damage to Ethiopian–American relations that the plea record does. The regulator’s logic, that diplomatic harm comes from journalists, collapses on contact with the facts.

The sovereignty narrative under strain. The government’s posture in the Tigray, Amhara and Oromia conflicts has rested on sovereignty: these are internal security operations, and foreign commentary is interference. The Lemma case shows the state reaching into the secure systems of a foreign government to prosecute those operations. It also hands American critics a concrete question: did US intelligence, obtained illegally, inform strikes in which civilians died? Congress has every reason to ask, and now has a member with a personal stake in the answer.

The silence that compounds. Addis Ababa has said nothing about Lemma. It has said a great deal about The Reporter. The asymmetry is revealing: a government confident in its conduct would answer an espionage plea and tolerate a critical newspaper. This one is doing the opposite. With the domestic press curtailed, Ethiopians are left to learn about their own government’s intelligence operations from American court filings and foreign wires.

The diaspora as a political arena. Kiros’s election and Lemma’s plea come from the same diaspora, and from opposite ends of it. One is a Tigrayan-born critic who turned grievance into elected office; the other an Ethiopian-born insider who turned access into service to the state, by his own admission urging it to finish its enemies. Ethiopia’s conflicts are no longer contained within its borders. They are fought in Denver precincts, in Maryland server rooms and in the comment sections of diaspora media. A government that cannot tolerate The Reporter at home will find it far harder to manage a diaspora that now includes a member of Congress.

“Ethiopians are left to learn about their own government’s intelligence operations from American court filings.”

The timing of the war. All of this lands after the collapse of the Pretoria Agreement and the federal offensive in Tigray this autumn. Washington has applied pressure in more than one direction, including visa restrictions on TPLF hardliners, which this paper has covered. A neutral American posture depends on confidence that Addis Ababa is a reliable partner. The Lemma plea does not end that confidence, but it gives every sceptic in the State Department and on Capitol Hill a file to point to.

Coda

In Dickens, the two cities are bound together by the people who move between them. So it is here. The same week a Tigrayan daughter of Addis Ababa won the right to speak in the American Congress, the Ethiopian state took away the right of its oldest independent newspaper to speak in Addis Ababa. And the only detailed public account of how that state hunted its armed opponents came not from its own press, which it is busy closing, but from a federal courtroom in Washington.

There is a lesson in that for the Ethiopian authorities, if they wish to learn it. Suppressing The Reporter will not stop Ethiopia’s story from being told. It only ensures that it will increasingly be told elsewhere, by others, and on their terms.

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Opinion · Economy & Governance

The glittering façade and the miserable reality of a nation in distress

By Professor Girma Berhanu

Boulevards are widened, buildings rise and the night is lit up, while nearly two-thirds of Ethiopians live on less than USD 4.20 a day. Professor Girma Berhanu argues that a government which offers spectacle in place of welfare, security and accountability has confused the look of progress with the thing itself.

There is something profoundly disturbing, morally indefensible and politically grotesque about a country where glittering boulevards coexist with grinding poverty; where decorative lights illuminate the night while millions struggle to secure their next meal; and where monumental buildings rise against a backdrop of collapsing public trust, insecurity and widespread human suffering. This is the tragic paradox of contemporary Ethiopia under the incumbent government: a spectacle of urban splendour unfolding alongside an abyss of socioeconomic misery and political instability.

Beneath the dazzling façade of modernisation lies a nation confronting an increasingly unbearable socioeconomic predicament. For millions of ordinary Ethiopians, poverty, hunger, deprivation and uncertainty have become defining features of everyday existence. The economic hardship experienced by large sections of the population raises fundamental questions about the government’s development priorities and its understanding of public responsibility.

The Arithmetic of Hunger

According to the World Bank’s Poverty and Equity Brief for Ethiopia (October 2026), almost two-thirds of Ethiopians (63.7 per cent) live on less than USD 4.20 a day, the poverty line the Bank uses for lower-middle-income countries. Close to four in ten (38.6 per cent) fall below the international extreme poverty line of USD 3.00 a day, and more than nine in ten (93.5 per cent) live on less than USD 8.30. For millions, this means an existence characterised not simply by poverty but by a relentless struggle for survival. Food insecurity, malnutrition, inadequate housing, unsafe drinking water, inaccessible transport and insufficient health care remain serious challenges. The suffering of children, particularly those affected by malnutrition and stunted growth, and of elderly citizens facing hunger and destitution, raises profound questions about the country’s political and economic priorities.

Meanwhile, inflation continues to erode purchasing power, placing essential commodities beyond the reach of ordinary households. Persistent inflationary pressures, structural economic weaknesses, mounting indebtedness and declining economic confidence further complicate an already precarious situation. External debt and fiscal vulnerabilities raise troubling questions about economic sustainability, the prospects of future generations, and the state’s capacity to meet its obligations without imposing additional hardship on an impoverished population.

A Crisis of Trust and Security

Yet the economic crisis represents only one dimension of Ethiopia’s unfolding tragedy. The erosion of public confidence in government institutions has become equally consequential. Trust, an indispensable foundation of political legitimacy, has been undermined by widespread perceptions of corruption, authoritarian governance, institutional weakness and impunity. A government increasingly estranged from the lived experiences and aspirations of its citizens cannot indefinitely compensate for diminishing public trust through propaganda, monumental projects or choreographed spectacles of national grandeur.

Even more devastating is the deterioration of peace and security across substantial parts of the country. Armed conflicts, mass displacement, communal violence and persistent insecurity have inflicted enormous suffering on civilian populations. Reports and allegations of extrajudicial detention, unlawful killings, war crimes, mass atrocities and other grave human rights violations demand independent investigation, accountability and an unwavering commitment to justice. The increasing reliance on coercion and repression, rather than dialogue, reconciliation and democratic accommodation, raises serious questions about the governing approach of the incumbent administration.

The Showcase

Against this distressing backdrop, however, the government proudly showcases its urban transformation projects: widened boulevards, elegant walkways, expansive parks, imposing edifices, decorative lighting and ambitious digitalisation initiatives. These developments are presented as evidence of progress, modernisation and national renaissance.

To be fair, urban infrastructure, public spaces and digital technologies can be valuable instruments of development. Cities need roads, parks, efficient public services and modern infrastructure. Digitalisation can improve governance, facilitate transactions and enhance administrative efficiency.

The problem, therefore, is not modernisation itself. The problem is modernisation divorced from human welfare, social justice, economic inclusion and political accountability.

What moral or developmental justification can there be for an urban landscape of dazzling sophistication when millions remain trapped in hunger, homelessness, unemployment and deprivation? What meaningful achievement is represented by decorative illumination when children are denied adequate nutrition, elderly citizens face destitution, and displaced families struggle to survive? What is the significance of digital sophistication when citizens lack fundamental freedoms, institutional accountability and personal security?

These questions expose a fundamental contradiction in the government’s developmental narrative: the substitution of spectacular visibility for substantive progress, and the privileging of architectural grandeur over human dignity.

“Decorative lighting cannot dispel the darkness of repression. Monumental architecture cannot conceal the erosion of public trust.”

Modernisation Without Welfare

The contradiction becomes even more pronounced when digitalisation and urban beautification receive extraordinary public attention while the essential foundations of a functioning state (security, justice, institutional integrity and public confidence) remain gravely compromised. Technology cannot substitute for political legitimacy. Decorative lighting cannot dispel the darkness of repression. Monumental architecture cannot conceal the erosion of public trust. Nor can urban beautification compensate for the destruction of livelihoods and the disintegration of social cohesion.

Ultimately, development must be measured not by the brightness of streetlights, the breadth of boulevards or the magnificence of government buildings, but by the quality of human life. Its genuine indicators are the nutritional status of children, the dignity of elderly citizens, the affordability of food, the availability of housing, access to health care, the security of communities, and the freedom of citizens to live without fear.

A nation cannot credibly celebrate prosperity when its children suffer malnutrition, its elderly face hunger, its citizens are displaced, and its communities remain engulfed in violence. Nor can a government adequately demonstrate developmental success by pointing exclusively to the visible manifestations of modernisation while profound and pervasive human suffering persists.

The tragedy of Ethiopia today is not simply that poverty and political repression coexist with urban beautification. It is that the spectacle of beautification is increasingly presented as though it were an adequate response to the country’s existential crises.

The Measure of a Government

The bottom line is as heartbreaking as it is politically consequential: undernourished and stunted children, impoverished elderly citizens, displaced families and struggling communities stand bewildered beneath decorative lights and glittering urban landscapes that appear to celebrate a prosperity they themselves have yet to experience.

This is not development in its fullest human sense. It is a disturbing juxtaposition of glitter and deprivation, spectacle and suffering, ostentation and despair.

It is, indeed, apocalyptic suffering in Sin and Tinsel Town.

History will ultimately judge a government not by the lights it switches on, the buildings it erects or the boulevards it widens, but by the lives it protects, the hunger it alleviates, the freedoms it respects, the peace it secures, and the dignity it restores, or fails to restore, to its people.

“A country is not illuminated merely because its streets are brightly lit. It is illuminated when its people are free, fed, secure and dignified.”

References

World Bank. (2026). Poverty & Equity Brief: Ethiopia, October 2026. World Bank Group. https://documents1.worldbank.org/curated/en/099559004212518954/pdf/IDU-74184097-0606-4f26-a1b5-135f87d3c88c.pdf

World Bank. (2026). Poverty, Prosperity, and Planet Report 2026: Jobs at the Center of Poverty Eradication. World Bank Group. https://doi.org/10.1596/978-1-4648-2342-8

About the author: Girma Berhanu is Professor in the Department of Education and Special Education at the University of Gothenburg, Sweden, and a regular contributor to The Ethiopian Tribune.

THE ETHIOPIAN TRIBUNE

HISTORY · ANNIVERSARY

Tikimt 23: The Weight of a Crown

Ninety-six years ago today, a regent named Tafari became Emperor Haile Selassie I. To understand Ethiopia’s twentieth century, its triumphs and its unfinished reckonings, one must understand how he reached that throne and what he did with it.

By Endex

2 November 2026 · Tikimt 23, 2019 E.C.

On Tikimt 23, 1923 in our calendar, 2 November 1930 in the world’s, the bells of St George’s Cathedral in Addis Ababa rang for a coronation the world had been invited to watch. Abuna Qerellos placed the crown on the head of a slight, composed man of thirty-eight. He took the throne name Haile Selassie, “Power of the Trinity”, with the full style of Negusa Nagast, King of Kings, Elect of God, Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah.

He would be the last to wear that crown. Within forty-four years the dynasty that claimed descent from Solomon and Makeda would be swept away by soldiers in a single September morning. Between those two dates lies the most consequential reign in modern Ethiopian history.

This essay is offered for education, not hagiography. It traces the road to that November morning, the institutions he built, the war that nearly erased the state, the diplomacy that made Addis Ababa the capital of Africa, the reforms it attempted, and the revolution that ended it all. Our young readers in particular deserve the whole story, not the poster version favoured by either his admirers or his detractors.

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“A boy from Ejersa Goro, born in the shadow of Adwa”

Tafari Makonnen was born on 23 July 1892 at Ejersa Goro, near Harar. His father was Ras Makonnen Wolde Mikael, cousin and closest confidant of Emperor Menelik II. His mother, Weyzero Yeshimebet Ali, died when he was an infant.

The Ethiopia of his childhood had just done something no other African state managed in that era. On 1 March 1896, at Adwa, Menelik’s armies destroyed an Italian invasion force. The Treaty of Addis Ababa that followed recognised Ethiopian independence, and Adwa became a beacon for colonised peoples everywhere.

Ras Makonnen fought at Adwa and then served as Menelik’s diplomat abroad, including at the coronation of Edward VII in London in 1902. He was among the first Ethiopian nobles to see Europe’s railways, schools and ministries up close. He made sure his son learned French and was taught by Catholic missionaries in Harar, alongside the traditional church education every noble child received.

When Ras Makonnen died in 1906, the fourteen-year-old Tafari was brought to Menelik’s court. He was given governorships in Selale, then Sidamo, then in 1910 his father’s own province of Harar. These were his first lessons in administration, taxation and the difficult art of managing powerful men.

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“On the feast of the Cross, a throne changed hands”

Menelik suffered a series of strokes from 1906 onwards and died in December 1913. His chosen heir was his grandson, Lij Iyasu, a young man of energy and real ambition. Iyasu reached out to Muslim and Oromo communities in ways that alarmed the Shewan nobility and the Church.

His courtship of the Ottoman Empire and Germany during the First World War also alarmed the British, French and Italian legations. The accusation that he had abandoned the Orthodox faith, much of it propaganda, gave his enemies their pretext. On 27 September 1916, during Meskel, the nobility and the Church deposed him.

Menelik’s daughter, Zewditu, became Empress, crowned on 11 February 1917. Tafari, then twenty-four, was named Balemulu Silt’an Enderase (regent plenipotentiary) and heir to the throne. Iyasu’s father, Negus Mikael of Wollo, marched on the capital but was defeated at the Battle of Segale on 27 October 1916.

It was an uneasy partnership. Zewditu was devout and conservative, surrounded by the old guard. Tafari was patient, quietly reformist, and increasingly the face of Ethiopia to the outside world. For fourteen years, two centres of authority coexisted in one palace compound.

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“Adwa had won independence, but not security”

Tafari understood that Adwa had won Ethiopia’s independence, but not its security. Surrounded by British, French and Italian colonies, the country needed recognition as a member of the community of nations. His regency was a patient campaign to secure exactly that.

• The League of Nations (1923). Ethiopia was admitted on 28 September 1923, one of very few African members. Britain and Italy had objected, citing slavery. The condition of entry was a commitment to end the slave trade.
• The slavery question. Edicts in 1923 and 1924 banned the trade and provided for gradual emancipation. Enforcement was uneven, and final abolition would not come until 1942. Still, the regent made the issue a national commitment rather than a foreign accusation.
• The European tour (1924). Tafari travelled through Palestine, Egypt, France, Belgium, Sweden, Italy, Britain, Greece and other states. He studied schools, hospitals and factories, and he sought, without success, a port on the Red Sea.
• Schools and the press. The Tafari Makonnen School opened in 1925. A printing press produced the weekly Berhanena Selam (“Light and Peace”) from 1925, a forum for a new generation of Ethiopian reformist intellectuals.
• A crown before the crown (1928). After facing down a palace challenge by Dejazmach Balcha Safo, Tafari was crowned Negus (King) on 7 October 1928, still under the Empress.

The final contest came from Ras Gugsa Welle, governor of Begemder and Zewditu’s estranged husband. He rose in rebellion in 1930 and was killed at the Battle of Anchem on 31 March 1930, where the regent’s forces used aircraft for the first time in Ethiopian warfare. Two days later, on 2 April 1930, Empress Zewditu died. The road to the throne was clear.

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“At dawn on Tikimt 23, the world came to watch”

The coronation was designed as a message to the world: Ethiopia was an ancient Christian monarchy, a sovereign equal, and not a territory awaiting a colonial master. Seven months of preparation transformed the capital. Roads were laid, electric lights strung, buildings refaced and a monument raised.

The guest list was itself diplomacy. Britain sent the Duke of Gloucester, son of King George V. France sent Marshal Franchet d’Espèrey; Italy, the Prince of Udine; the United States, a special envoy. Delegations came from Belgium, Egypt, Germany, Japan, Sweden, the Netherlands and others. Journalists followed, among them Evelyn Waugh, whose mocking accounts later fed his novels.

“Ethiopia was an ancient Christian monarchy, a sovereign equal, and not a territory awaiting a colonial master.”

The rite itself followed the ancient Ge’ez liturgy of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church. Through the night the clergy chanted. At dawn, Abuna Qerellos anointed the Emperor and invested him with the regalia: the robe, the sword, the sceptre, the orb, the ring, the twin spears and finally the crown. Empress Menen Asfaw was then crowned beside him, a reminder that the throne was a household as well as an office.

Far away in Jamaica, some heard something else. To certain readers of scripture there, a Black king crowned before the princes of Europe seemed to fulfil prophecy. From that reading grew the Rastafari movement, which still bears his pre-coronation name. Whatever one makes of its theology, it shows how far the image of Tikimt 23 travelled.

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“A strong crown before a strong parliament”

Within nine months the Emperor gave Ethiopia its first written constitution, proclaimed on 16 July 1931. It created a two-chamber parliament, the first in the country’s history. But the senate was appointed by the Emperor, the lower house was chosen by the nobility, and sovereignty remained explicitly in the person of the monarch.

Later critics called this power drawn to the centre. Its defenders answer that a country whose regional lords had nearly torn it apart in 1916 and again in 1930 needed a strong crown before it could afford a strong parliament. Centralisation, in their view, was the precondition of national unity and of survival among colonial neighbours.

The same years saw the foundations of a modern state:

• The Bank of Ethiopia (1931) replaced the foreign-owned Bank of Abyssinia and issued a national currency.
• Ministries and a salaried bureaucracy began to replace a court run through personal retainers.
• A modern army took shape, with foreign military advisers, the Imperial Guard, and the Holeta military school opened in 1934.
• Students sent abroad, to Europe, the United States and Lebanon, formed the first cohort of Western-educated Ethiopians. Many would die in the coming war.

The time was short. Mussolini’s Italy had not forgotten Adwa.

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“Abandoned in Ethiopia, abandoned everywhere”

The pretext was a skirmish at the wells of Walwal in the Ogaden on 5 December 1934. Ethiopia took the dispute to the League of Nations, as a member was entitled to do. The League temporised. On 3 October 1935, Italy invaded without a declaration of war.

The League named Italy the aggressor and imposed sanctions, but left out oil, the one measure that might have stopped the war. In December, Britain’s Hoare and France’s Laval even drafted a secret plan to hand Italy much of Ethiopia; public outrage killed it. Meanwhile Italian aircraft sprayed mustard gas on soldiers, civilians, villages and livestock, in open violation of the 1925 Geneva Protocol.

The Emperor led his army in person at Maychew on 31 March 1936 and was defeated. On 2 May he left Addis Ababa by train for Djibouti; three days later Marshal Badoglio’s troops entered the capital. The decision to leave remains debated. Some saw desertion; others saw the only way to keep Ethiopia’s legal existence alive.

On 30 June 1936 he stood before the League Assembly in Geneva, jeered by Italian journalists in the gallery, and spoke for every small nation. His warning, in substance, was that collective security abandoned in Ethiopia would be abandoned everywhere: today it is us, tomorrow it will be you. Within four years Europe was at war, and the speech had become prophecy.

“Collective security abandoned in Ethiopia would be abandoned everywhere.”

He spent the exile largely at Fairfield House in Bath, England, living modestly while his envoys, among them Dr Workneh Martin in London, kept Ethiopia’s case alive. At home the occupation was savage. After an attempt on Viceroy Graziani’s life on Yekatit 12 (19 February 1937), Italian forces and Blackshirts massacred thousands in Addis Ababa. That May, the monks and deacons of Debre Libanos were executed.

Yet the country was never pacified. The Arbegnoch, the patriots, fought on in Shewa, Gojjam, Begemder and beyond, led by figures such as Ras Abebe Aregai, Belay Zeleke and Shewareged Gedle. When Italy entered the Second World War in June 1940, Britain at last became an ally. The Emperor crossed back into Gojjam from Sudan on 20 January 1941 with Gideon Force and the patriots. On 5 May 1941, exactly five years after the Italians took Addis Ababa, he re-entered his capital.

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“The nation the League forsook helped build its successor”

Liberation did not bring full sovereignty at once. Britain treated Ethiopia almost as a protectorate under the 1942 Anglo-Ethiopian Agreement, and the Emperor spent years prising control back. The 1944 agreement restored most of it. The Ogaden and the railway zone took longer.

What followed were the reign’s most celebrated achievements:

• Founding member of the United Nations (1945). The country the League abandoned helped build its successor.
• Ethiopian Airlines (1945). Founded in December 1945, it flew its first service in 1946 and grew into one of the continent’s great carriers.
• Korea (1951–1954). The Kagnew Battalion fought under the UN flag, a practical defence of the collective security he had pleaded for in Geneva. Ethiopian troops later served with the UN in the Congo from 1960.
• A national Church (1948–1959). After centuries under Egyptian Coptic metropolitans, the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church gained its own bishops, and in 1959 its first patriarch, Abune Basilios.
• Higher education. University College of Addis Ababa opened in 1950 and became Haile Selassie I University in 1961, producing Ethiopia’s first modern professional class.
• The revised Constitution (1955). Proclaimed for the silver jubilee, it added a chapter of rights and an elected Chamber of Deputies, first chosen in 1957. Modern penal, civil and commercial codes followed between 1957 and 1965.
• Eritrea (1952). A UN resolution federated Eritrea with Ethiopia in 1952, restoring access to the sea. In 1962 the federation was dissolved and Eritrea annexed, a decision whose consequences still bleed today.

The crowning diplomatic act came in May 1963. The UN Economic Commission for Africa had already been seated in Addis Ababa in 1958. On 25 May 1963, thirty-two newly independent African states gathered in Africa Hall and founded the Organisation of African Unity, headquartered in Addis Ababa. The Emperor’s mediation between rival blocs of African states made the agreement possible. Africa Day is still celebrated on that date.

In April 1966 he visited Jamaica and was met by tens of thousands of Rastafari at Kingston airport. The orphan of Ejersa Goro had become one of the most recognised figures on earth.

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“Reform raced against revolution, and revolution won”

The first warning came from inside the palace. In December 1960, while the Emperor was on a state visit to Brazil, the commander of the Imperial Guard, Brigadier-General Mengistu Neway, and his brother Germame seized the capital. The army, the air force, the Church and the people of Addis Ababa rallied to the throne, and the coup collapsed within days. To many Ethiopians that loyalty proved how deeply the crown was rooted; to a restless few, it proved the crown could be challenged.

The questions of the 1960s were real, and the imperial government did not ignore them:

• Land. Ethiopian land tenure was ancient and intricate: inherited rist rights in the north, gult privileges held by nobility and Church, and newer tenancies in the south. The government created a Ministry of Land Reform and Administration in 1966, abolished the remaining gult privileges, and in 1967 introduced an agricultural income tax, which provoked an armed revolt in Gojjam in 1968. A tenancy bill to protect southern farmers stalled in a parliament of landholders. Admirers see the foundations of an evolutionary reform; critics see too little, too late.
• The students. The university he founded produced Ethiopia’s first modern professional class, and also its most radical critics. From 1965 a vocal minority marched under the slogan Meret le Arashu, “Land to the Tiller”. Many were drawn to imported Marxist-Leninist doctrine, which recast Ethiopia’s distinctive history in categories borrowed from European class struggle. The country would pay dearly for that borrowing.
• The periphery. Armed struggle began in Eritrea in 1961 and hardened after the federation ended. A long revolt ran in Bale from 1963 to 1970. Somali irredentism over the Ogaden flared into war in 1964.
• The succession. The Emperor was past eighty. Crown Prince Asfa Wossen suffered a severe stroke in 1973, and no settled plan existed for the transition.

Then came Wollo. Famine in 1972–73 cost tens of thousands of lives, and provincial officials minimised its scale; how fully the Emperor himself was informed is still debated. In October 1973 Jonathan Dimbleby’s documentary The Unknown Famine brought it to the world. On the eve of the deposition the Derg broadcast it on Ethiopian television intercut with scenes of palace luxury, a calculated piece of propaganda designed to turn reverence into rage.

“They dared not lay hands on a man so many still regarded as the Elect of God until they had first eroded that faith.”

In early 1974 army units mutinied over pay and conditions, and the oil shock brought teachers, taxi drivers and students onto the streets. A committee of junior officers, the Derg, formed in June and dismantled the old order piece by piece in a “creeping coup”. The soldiers moved slowly for a reason: they dared not lay hands on a man so many still regarded as the Elect of God until they had first eroded that faith. On 12 September 1974, the day after Enkutatash, he was deposed and driven from the palace in a Volkswagen.

What followed tested every accusation made against the old order. On 23 November 1974 the Derg executed some sixty former officials without trial. In March 1975 it abolished the monarchy and nationalised all rural land, denying the farmer ownership of the very plot the slogan had promised him. On 27 August 1975 state media announced the Emperor’s death; it is widely believed he was murdered. The Red Terror of 1977–78 killed tens of thousands of young Ethiopians, and the famine of 1984–85 claimed far more lives than Wollo had.

His remains were found in 1992, buried beneath the palace grounds. On 5 November 2000 he was laid to rest in Holy Trinity Cathedral beside Empress Menen, mourned by thousands who still called him Janhoy.

◆◆◆

“Faith, crown and nation, weighed honestly”

For half a century Haile Selassie has mostly been judged through one lens: the Marxist-Leninist narrative of the student movement and the Derg, which taught a generation to see the crown only as “feudal” oppression. That framework was itself an ideology, imported and then imposed by force. Our young readers deserve better than inherited slogans from any side, and an independent reading must hear at least four voices.

To the faithful, he was the Elect of God. For millions of Ethiopians the Emperor was never merely a ruler. In the tradition of the Kebra Nagast and the Church’s coronation rite, the Solomonic king was anointed, the defender of the faith and the father of the nation. People called him Janhoy, bowed as he passed, and read his return from exile as providence. That reverence was not servility: it was the bond that held a vast and diverse realm together, and its violent destruction left a void that ideology and the gun rushed to fill. Rastafari across the world carry a form of that devotion still.

To the constitutionalist, he was the father of Ethiopian law and rights. The 1931 Constitution was the country’s first. The 1955 Constitution added a chapter of rights: equality before the law, freedom of speech, press and assembly within the law, protection of property, and an elected chamber. Modern penal, civil and commercial codes followed between 1957 and 1965. Monarchists argue this was a gradual path toward constitutional monarchy, of the kind Britain, Sweden and Japan had travelled, which the revolution cut short. Critics reply that political parties were never permitted and that rights on paper were narrower in practice.

To the nationalist, he was the guardian of independence. Geneva in 1936, the return of 1941, the seat at the founding of the UN, the restoration of the sea through Eritrea and the OAU in Addis Ababa: no African leader of his century carried his country’s name further.

To his critics, he left too much unresolved. Land, the succession, the place of Ethiopia’s many nations and the hunger in Wollo were not settled in time, and a system so dependent on one revered person could not outlast his old age.

“Institutions built over centuries should be reformed with care, not torn down in a season.”

An honest verdict weighs all four. It acknowledges that the crown did not reform fast enough to save itself. It also records that the alternative imposed in 1974 in the name of the peasant took the land from everyone, killed more of the young than any emperor, and presided over a deadlier famine. For a publication committed to accountability, the lesson of Tikimt 23 is neither nostalgia nor contempt. Institutions built over centuries, the crown, the Church, the law and the memory of Adwa, should be reformed with care rather than torn down in a season, and rights written into a constitution must be lived as well as proclaimed.

◆◆◆

“Forty-four years, at a glance”

Endex is Chief Editor of The Ethiopian Tribune.

THE ETHIOPIAN TRIBUNE

Exposing the Systemic Crisis of the Abiy Ahmed Regime

The Arsi Massacres and the Anatomy of Aggression

By Mareshet Yimer Meshesha  |  29 October 2026

The ongoing multidimensional crisis in Ethiopia has breached its final humanitarian boundaries. Recent and harrowing dispatches from the Arsi zone detail a systematic campaign of targeted violence, slaughter, and displacement executed against Orthodox Twahedo Christian believers. Innocent citizens, defenseless elders, and infants have paid the ultimate price.

This appeal begins with an expression of the highest gratitude and solidarity toward those brave civic voices, regional reporters, and community advocates who have broken their silence to amplify the cries of the victims. Conversely, it stands as a severe denunciation of those institutional actors and political elites who, under the banner of hollow peace agreements and stage-managed political transitions, have chosen like the proverbial ostrich to bury their heads in the sand. To look away from the flowing blood of innocents is to be complicit in its shedding.

“To look away from the flowing blood of innocents is to be complicit in its shedding.”

The Geopolitical Matrix: Internal Proxies and External Exploitation

The horrors unfolding in Arsi are not isolated incidents of localized communal friction. They are the visible symptoms of a coordinated, structurally backed campaign engineered by a network of internal proxies and fueled by external geopolitical interests intent on tearing the social fabric of Ethiopia apart. This calculated instability is directly tied to three distinct regional and international pressures:

The Weaponization of Water Politics: Following the successful operational milestones of the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD), external adversaries—chiefly Egypt—have actively shifted their strategy toward asymmetric domestic destabilization. Unable to stop the dam through conventional diplomacy, external actors are funneling financial and propaganda resources into internal ethnic and religious fault lines to keep Ethiopia structurally weak and permanently divided.

Wahabist Extremism and the Mirage of the East African Caliphate: The historically peaceful, tolerant, and collaborative fabric of traditional Ethiopian Islam is being deliberately undermined by radical Wahabi networks. These extremist ideologues distort faith into a tool for geopolitical mobilization, using targeted massacres against Christian minorities as a temporary stepping stone toward establishing an extremist Islamic Caliphate across East Africa.

Regional Envy and the Institutional Scramble: Ethiopia’s persistent internal instability has become an open target for regional neighbors. Driven by a desire to see the historic anchor of the Horn of Africa permanently diminished, competing states are quietly capitalizing on the domestic chaos, lobbying international organizations to relocate their regional and continental headquarters—including the African Union (AU)—away from Addis Ababa.

The Default of Government Accountability: A Final Notice

The legal, constitutional, and moral obligation to protect the lives and religious freedoms of citizens rests entirely on the shoulders of the state apparatus. Yet, the responses from the federal government and regional Kilil administrations have consistently degenerated into bureaucratic theater, unverified public relations dismissals, and deliberate inaction.

Let this be clear. The ruling Prosperity Party and its security organs have been repeatedly warned.

The time for pleading for protection from an administration that has presided over this systemic collapse is long past. The federal and regional authorities must understand that they are being watched by the nation and the international community. Every state official, security commander, and local cadre who chooses to look away, minimize casualty figures, or provide ideological shelter to extremist networks will be held directly, legally, and historically accountable for these crimes against humanity before future independent tribunals.

Direct Directives for Institutional Mobilization

To bypass the state’s paralysis and build an authentic shield around endangered communities, the following independent actions must be executed immediately:

To the Ethiopian Orthodox Twahedo Church and Co-Religious Institutions: The mother church must remain the unyielding voice of the displaced and the slaughtered. We call upon the Holy Synod and spiritual leaders to coordinate direct, independent humanitarian and spiritual lifelines to the survivors in Arsi. Crucially, the peaceful leaders of the Muslim community must step forward to publicly denounce the Wahabi extremists who hijack their faith, drawing a clear line between traditional Ethiopian Islamic values and external political extremism.

To Human Rights Organizations and Independent Investigators: International watchdogs and independent civic monitoring groups must deploy direct, uninhibited investigative assets to Arsi. Eyewitness testimonies must be secured immediately, and forensic evidence must be preserved before state actors alter the data or issue managed cover-up reports.

To the Judiciary and Independent Legal Practitioners: Perpetrators, financiers, and the administrative enablers of these massacres must be systematically identified. If the local courts remain compromised by political influence, case files must be prepared for future domestic tribunals and international accountability mechanisms. No political office or state immunity will shield abusers when the legal reckoning arrives.

The Economic Leverage: The Diaspora and Domestic Boycott Architecture

When a ruling elite turns a blind eye to the slaughter of its people while treating the country as a private commercial fiefdom and a tourist playground, the citizenry must strike back using the sharpest non-violent leverage available: Economic Strangulation.

The Diaspora Temporary Holiday Boycott: We issue an urgent call to the global Ethiopian diaspora to launch a total, temporary boycott on leisure travel and holidaying in Ethiopia. Until independent international investigators are granted unrestricted access to Arsi and verified security guarantees are established for all citizens, the diaspora must freeze all non-essential travel to the country, including cultural and holiday tours, and restrict financial remittances strictly to direct family survival aid. Traveling home for luxury, weddings, and entertainment while infants are butchered in Arsi is an insult to the memory of the victims and extends the political lifespan of a compromised regime.

The Domestic Business Boycott: Citizens on the ground must execute an absolute economic boycott against all commercial entities linked to the ruling elite. Refuse to patronize banks, luxury hotels, real estate developments, transport providers, and consumer brands owned or operated by Prosperity Party officials, their families, and their preferred business partners. Financially backing businesses tied to the ruling cadres means funding the very system that watches our communities burn.

The Sanctity of Life is Non-Negotiable

“The human soul is sacred. The right to worship without fear of execution is absolute.”

The human soul is sacred. The right to worship without fear of execution is absolute. The survival of Ethiopia cannot be achieved through political theater or the survival strategies of a failing palace elite. The dispatches from Arsi have revealed the depth of the state’s moral and structural collapse.

We call upon every Ethiopian—regardless of language, ethnicity, or region—to reject the manufactured hatreds driven by foreign cash and internal greed. Expose the networks of the Wahabi extremists, dismantle the influence of Egyptian water machinations, and refuse to fund the economic empires of the ruling elite. Break the silence, stand firm with the survivors of Arsi, and fight for a future rooted in absolute justice, unyielding truth, and equal protection under the law for every human being.

❖

Mareshet Yimer Meshesha is an independent civic analyst.

REFLECTIONS · ETHICS, PEACE & NATION-BUILDING

My Mother’s Wisdom and Moral Integrity

Lessons in Tolerance, Kindness, and Nation-Building

Reflections on practical wisdom, moral education, social trust, and a humane and democratic Ethiopia

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

Editor’s Foreword

The Ethiopian Tribune seldom publishes essays about people who held no office, led no movement and left no written record. Professor Girma Berhanu’s latest contribution is about such a person, and that is exactly why it belongs in these pages.

On its surface, this is a son remembering his mother. She married in her teens and raised a large family in a poor quarter of Addis Ababa. She went back to the classroom under the Derg and reached the seventh grade before her schooling was cut short a second time. Professor Girma is clear, though, that tribute is not his purpose. His question is public and urgent. After years of war, polarisation and the steady erosion of trust between Ethiopians, where do the moral foundations for living together come from, and how can they be rebuilt?

His answer avoids both easy positions. He does not claim that private virtue can replace accountable institutions, justice for victims or political reform; he says plainly that it cannot. Nor does he accept that institutions alone will deliver peace if the habits of honesty, restraint and mutual regard are left uncultivated. He draws on Aristotle’s practical wisdom, Nel Noddings’s ethics of care, Robert Putnam’s social capital and John Paul Lederach’s work on reconciliation. With them he argues that the virtues his mother practised in her home, her neighbourhood and her disputes are not sentimental extras to nation-building but part of its infrastructure.

Many Ethiopians will recognise her. Her authority rested on nothing but her conduct. When her son wanted revenge she told him, “Tomorrow is another day”, and she sent unresolved grievances to the elders rather than settling them with fists. That such women are so rarely counted among the nation’s moral and intellectual resources is part of the argument.

The essay also asks a question this publication has raised many times in other contexts. Why do values so deeply rooted in Ethiopian religious and cultural life appear so fragile in its public and political life? Professor Girma does not claim to settle it. He insists only that the gap be named, and that a country seeking peace look to its homes as well as its parliaments.

We are grateful to Professor Girma for entrusting us with so personal a piece, and for sharing his mother’s photograph with our readers.

— Endex, Chief Editor, The Ethiopian Tribune

Synopsis

Summary

This article reflects on my mother’s extraordinary practical wisdom, moral integrity, and capacity for compassion despite limited formal education. She married in her teens and raised a large family in an impoverished neighbourhood of downtown Addis Ababa. After I completed university, she attended literacy classes during the Derg regime and progressed to seventh grade within three years. Her education ended when she became pregnant with my youngest sister. Nevertheless, she possessed remarkable intellectual ability, sound judgement, and an exceptional understanding of human relationships.

Through her everyday actions, my mother embodied values essential to peaceful coexistence: honesty, tolerance, civility, kindness, forgiveness, and mutual respect. She earned people’s trust not through status or authority but through integrity and compassion. Her life illustrates that moral wisdom cannot be measured by educational qualifications alone. It is also cultivated through experience, relationships, and responsibility towards others.

Drawing on philosophical perspectives on practical wisdom, care ethics, social capital, and peacebuilding, this article explores how these qualities can contribute to a more humane and democratic Ethiopia. It asks why ethical values deeply rooted in Ethiopian cultural and religious traditions are not always reflected in public and political life. Although individual virtue cannot resolve structural injustice or political conflict, the values my mother embodied can help strengthen social trust, accountability, and solidarity. Her life reminds us that nation-building requires not only effective institutions but also people who practise integrity, compassion, and respect for human dignity.

1. Introduction: The Wisdom of an Ordinary Woman

A mother is often among the first teachers of peace. Before children enter school, they begin learning about love, respect, discipline, and compassion through family relationships. When these values are practised at home, they can influence the wider community and, ultimately, the nation.

This article does not celebrate a political leader, intellectual, or public figure. It reflects on my mother, whose limited formal education contrasted sharply with her remarkable practical intelligence, moral judgement, and capacity to understand people.

She married my father in her teens and raised a large family in an impoverished neighbourhood of Addis Ababa. When I completed university, she began attending literacy classes during the Derg regime. Within three years, she had reached seventh grade. Her education ended when she became pregnant with my youngest sister.

Her interrupted education was a source of lasting disappointment. She often spoke about her intellectual potential and the unfairness of being denied the opportunities available to her younger siblings. She described herself as having a “spongy brain,” explaining that she could absorb and remember what she read, including the Bible. Her words revealed both a thirst for knowledge and a painful awareness of opportunities lost through early marriage and gendered expectations.

I cannot fully reconstruct my maternal grandfather’s reasons for arranging her marriage, and I do not wish to speculate. What remains clear is that my mother experienced the decision as a profound injustice. Her story reminds us that a lack of formal schooling should never be mistaken for a lack of intelligence or potential.

My mother’s life also raises a wider question: why do societies sometimes overlook the moral and intellectual contributions of ordinary people, particularly women whose work remains largely invisible? Her example offers a starting point for understanding how practical wisdom, integrity, and compassion can contribute to a more humane society.

2. Beyond Formal Education: Practical Wisdom

Formal education is essential for individual and social development, but it does not automatically produce sound judgement or ethical responsibility. My mother demonstrated an extraordinary ability to understand people, anticipate consequences, and navigate disagreements with both firmness and compassion.

Aristotle’s concept of phronesis, or practical wisdom, provides a useful framework for understanding her qualities. Practical wisdom involves making sound judgements in particular circumstances rather than merely knowing abstract principles (Aristotle, 2009). My mother understood that people could not be defined by a single mistake and that preserving relationships could sometimes matter more than winning an argument.

Her wisdom also shaped my own educational journey. During my first three years at school, I struggled academically and experienced humiliation from teachers and classmates. My early performance gave me little reason to expect future academic success.

My mother and grandmother, however, refused to define me by these difficulties. They believed that my birth with part of the amniotic membrane covering my head—a phenomenon known in Amharic as kirtas—was a sign of future achievement. Although this belief had no established scientific significance, it gave me hope and encouraged me to imagine a future beyond my early struggles.

My mother repeatedly told me that I was destined to succeed. Eventually, I began to believe her. Even today, her voice returns to me when I encounter setbacks.

“Children need more than instruction and assessment; they also need confidence, patience, and adults who see possibilities beyond present difficulties.”

Looking back, I understand the deeper significance of her encouragement. She recognised that children need more than instruction and assessment; they also need confidence, patience, and adults who see possibilities beyond present difficulties. Her example taught me not to reduce people to their earliest failures.

Her life therefore challenges narrow understandings of intelligence and education. Wisdom can emerge through experience, observation, empathy, and responsibility, even where opportunities for formal learning have been severely restricted.

3. Moral Integrity: The Foundation of Trust

One of my mother’s most remarkable qualities was her integrity. People trusted her because her conduct consistently reflected honesty, fairness, and responsibility. Her credibility did not depend on institutional authority or public recognition; it developed through everyday actions.

Putnam’s (2000) work on social capital highlights the importance of trust, social networks, and civic cooperation. These relationships are built not only through institutions but also through repeated encounters in which people demonstrate that they can be relied upon.

My mother embodied this principle. She understood that trust is earned through conduct rather than claimed through words or status. Her example illustrates how the foundations of public trust can be established in families and neighbourhoods.

This raises important questions about contemporary Ethiopia. What happens when political loyalty is rewarded over integrity, personal advantage over collective responsibility, or hostility over mutual recognition? What happens when societies proclaim moral values but fail to reward their practice?

These questions do not imply that Ethiopia lacks ethical traditions or people of integrity. Rather, they highlight the gap that can emerge between professed values and institutional practices. Where dishonesty, exclusion, and unaccountable power become normalised, social trust and solidarity are weakened.

My mother’s life offers an alternative. Despite the educational opportunities denied to her, she developed a profound understanding of human relationships. She taught me that people should not be judged solely by their mistakes and that disagreements need not become confrontations.

The moral foundations of a cohesive society—integrity, accountability, fairness, and respect for human dignity—cannot be sustained by declarations alone. They must be practised in everyday relationships and supported by institutions that reward ethical conduct. Rebuilding Ethiopia’s social fabric is therefore both a political and a moral undertaking.

4. Tolerance and Civility: Living with Differences

“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.”

— Matthew 5:9, KJV

My mother taught me tolerance not through abstract instruction but through her advice on how to respond to mistreatment. When I felt hurt and wanted to retaliate, she would remind me: “Tomorrow is another day.”

These words encouraged me to pause rather than allow immediate anger to determine my response. She did not suggest that wrongdoing should simply be accepted. If mistreatment continued, she advised me to seek help from respected elders who could mediate and de-escalate the conflict.

Her approach combined restraint with accountability. She taught me that being wronged does not remove our responsibility for how we respond, and that retaliation can reproduce the very harm we wish to overcome.

Tolerance, in this sense, is neither passive acceptance nor silence in the face of injustice. Civility does not require abandoning one’s convictions; it requires addressing disagreements without humiliating or dehumanising others.

This lesson has particular relevance to Ethiopia, where differences involving ethnicity, religion, language, political allegiance, and historical experience can become sources of division. When political disagreements are transformed into collective antagonisms, hostility and retaliation may be presented as loyalty.

My mother’s example does not replace the need to address structural inequality, discrimination, or historical injustice. Rather, it reminds us that justice and humanity must coexist. Wrongdoing should be confronted, but the pursuit of justice need not require denying another person’s dignity.

“Pause, reflect, seek constructive solutions, and refuse to let present anger determine the future.”

Her simple advice, “Tomorrow is another day,” expresses a form of moral and civic education: pause, reflect, seek constructive solutions, and refuse to let present anger determine the future.

5. Kindness and Care as Moral Practices

My mother’s kindness extended beyond her responsibilities as a parent. She possessed a remarkable capacity for compassion and an enduring respect for other people. Friends, neighbours, and relatives remembered her for these qualities, which were expressed through everyday interactions rather than public recognition.

I have sometimes thought that, if God exists, my mother embodied what I understand godliness to mean: compassion, respect for human dignity, and a commitment to treating others humanely. My recent visit to Bhutan, where I was impressed by the calmness and kindness of the people I encountered, reminded me of her example.

Noddings (1984) places caring relationships at the centre of ethical life and moral education. Her perspective resonates with my mother’s understanding of human vulnerability and the importance of responding to people in their particular circumstances.

Care is not weakness or unconditional agreement. It can require setting boundaries, challenging harmful behaviour, and refusing to participate in injustice. Its moral significance lies in recognising that other people matter and that our actions affect their lives.

The broader significance of my mother’s life is that caring work, particularly the work performed by women within families and communities, often remains undervalued. Yet this work sustains families, transmits values, and nurtures the relationships through which people learn responsibility and compassion.

If nation-building depends on the quality of human relationships as well as institutions and economic resources, care cannot be regarded merely as a private virtue. It is a social resource and a foundation of our shared humanity.

6. Forgiveness Without Forgetting Justice

Forgiveness is especially important in societies affected by political conflict, historical grievances, and collective suffering. It can interrupt cycles of retaliation and create possibilities for renewed relationships. However, forgiveness must not mean forgetting injustice, excusing wrongdoing, or pressuring victims to reconcile before they are ready.

The challenge is to hold forgiveness and justice together. A humane society must acknowledge wrongdoing, protect victims, establish responsibility, and pursue accountability while preserving the possibility of reconciliation.

Lederach (1997) emphasises that peacebuilding requires sustained attention to relationships and the processes through which divided communities recover their capacity to live together. Political agreements alone cannot establish lasting peace.

My mother was not a professional mediator, but her approach to conflict reflected a similar principle: the future should not remain permanently imprisoned by the injuries of the past.

“Forgiveness is not the abandonment of justice but a refusal to make hatred the only possible foundation for the future.”

For Ethiopia, forgiveness cannot substitute for political reform, justice, or institutional accountability. It can, however, complement these processes by helping people imagine relationships beyond endless retaliation. Properly understood, forgiveness is not the abandonment of justice but a refusal to make hatred the only possible foundation for the future.

7. Families and Neighbourhoods as Schools of Moral Education

Moral education begins long before formal schooling and continues throughout life. Children learn not only from what adults say but also from how they behave when angry, treat people with less power, respond to disagreement, and accept responsibility for their actions. My mother communicated her values through example. Her everyday conduct taught lessons about fairness, empathy, restraint, and responsibility without requiring formal lectures.

Aristotle’s (2009) account of virtue similarly emphasises habituation: ethical dispositions develop through repeated practice and the exercise of judgement. If children are to become responsible and tolerant citizens, democratic values must be experienced, not merely taught.

Families and neighbourhoods can nurture compassion and solidarity, but they can also reproduce prejudice and inequality. Their educational significance therefore depends on the relationships and behaviours they encourage.

Schools, families, community organisations, religious institutions, and public bodies all have responsibilities in cultivating humane dispositions. They must model the values they proclaim and ensure that integrity, fairness, and mutual respect are recognised in practice.

8. Why Are These Qualities Difficult to Sustain in Public Life?

My admiration for my mother raises a difficult question: why do integrity, tolerance, civility, and compassion sometimes appear so fragile in Ethiopian public life despite the country’s rich cultural and religious traditions?

Ethiopia has strong traditions of solidarity, mutual assistance, and community-based conflict resolution. The problem is not an absence of ethical resources but the difficulty of translating them consistently into institutional and political practice.

Several factors may contribute to this gap. Weak accountability can encourage personal advantage over public responsibility. Political polarisation can turn opponents into enemies rather than fellow citizens. Inconsistency between moral teaching and institutional behaviour can also undermine the credibility of public values.

These problems are not unique to Ethiopia, and they cannot be explained through individual character alone. Institutions, economic conditions, historical injustices, and political structures matter. Appeals to harmony must never be used to conceal inequality or silence legitimate grievances.

Nevertheless, institutions are shaped by human decisions and social expectations. Public cultures that value accountability and integrity can strengthen good governance, while cultures that normalise dishonesty and humiliation can undermine it.

My mother’s example does not offer a complete solution to Ethiopia’s structural problems. It reminds us, however, that the moral qualities necessary for a humane society must be recognised, cultivated, and supported by institutions that make ethical conduct consequential.

9. Can We Cultivate These Qualities in Others?

I sometimes wish I could clone my mother—not physically, but morally and intellectually. I wish others could develop her compassion, fairness, tolerance, and capacity to maintain relationships across differences.

Moral character cannot be copied mechanically, nor should democratic societies seek to produce identical personalities. What can be cultivated are the dispositions and practices that enable people to live together with dignity.

First, moral education must take lived example seriously. Children need adults whose actions reflect the values they teach.

Second, educational institutions should encourage dialogue across differences, critical reflection, and respectful disagreement.

Third, communities need opportunities for cooperation through voluntary associations, shared projects, and local problem-solving.

Fourth, public institutions must reward integrity through transparency, accountability, and fair application of rules. Ethical education cannot compensate for systems that punish honesty or protect misconduct.

Finally, forgiveness and tolerance must be taught alongside justice and human rights. A humane society should neither glorify revenge nor demand silence from those who have suffered.

My wish to clone my mother is therefore an aspiration to cultivate human qualities rather than reproduce an individual. Her example suggests that moral development is possible when personal relationships, educational environments, and public institutions reinforce one another.

10. Conclusion: Nation-Building Begins with Character

My mother is no longer alive, but her influence remains central to my understanding of human relationships and the society I hope Ethiopia can become. I remember her for her integrity, practical wisdom, tolerance, kindness, and compassion—not for formal achievements or public recognition, but for the humanity she embodied.

Her life taught me that intelligence and moral wisdom cannot be measured solely by educational qualifications, professional status, or access to power. Formal education is essential, but it does not guarantee ethical conduct. My mother’s formal education ended in the seventh grade, yet the lessons she taught through her life continue to shape my thinking.

For Ethiopia, the challenge is to connect the ethical resources already present in society with institutions that promote justice, integrity, and peaceful coexistence. Personal kindness cannot resolve complex political and historical problems alone, but neither can institutions succeed without citizens and leaders who respect human dignity and accept responsibility for their actions.

I cannot bring my mother back, but I can carry forward her values. Her life reminds me that the foundations of a humane society are built not only in universities, parliaments, and public offices but also in homes and neighbourhoods, through everyday acts of fairness, care, and mutual respect.

My mother’s formal education ended in the seventh grade. The education she gave through her life continues.

“If you educate a man, you educate an individual; but if you educate a woman, you educate a nation.”

— Attributed to James Emman Kwegyir Aggrey

References

Aristotle. (2009). The Nicomachean ethics (D. Ross, Trans.; L. Brown, Ed.). Oxford University Press. (Original work published ca. 4th century BCE).

Britto, P. R., et al. (2017). Nurturing care: Promoting early childhood development. The Lancet, 389(10064), 91–102. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(16)31390-3

Gonzalez, S., & Rodriguez, C. M. (2023). Psychosocial resources predicting maternal and paternal positive parenting and lower child abuse risk. Prevention Science, 24, 186–197. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11121-022-01483-0

LaBella, M. H., & Masten, A. S. (2018). Family influences on the development of aggression and violence. Current Opinion in Psychology, 19, 11–16. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.copsyc.2017.03.028

Lederach, J. P. (1997). Building peace: Sustainable reconciliation in divided societies. United States Institute of Peace Press.

Noddings, N. (1984). Caring: A feminine approach to ethics and moral education. University of California Press.

Putnam, R. D. (2000). Bowling alone: The collapse and revival of American community. Simon & Schuster.

Girma Berhanu is Professor in the Department of Education and Special Education at the University of Gothenburg, Sweden, and a regular contributor to The Ethiopian Tribune.

Analysis · Ethiopia

A Critique of the Gumii Hayyoota Oromoo Manifesto

The Council of Oromo Scholars has endorsed a broad front against Arat Kilo. Its language is democratic; its foundations, this critique argues, are not.

By Mareshet Yimer Meshesha  ·  22 October 2026

On 17 October 2026, the Council of Oromo Scholars (Gumii Hayyoota Oromoo) issued a sweeping Amharic manifesto addressing Ethiopia’s multidimensional political crisis. Critically, the document endorses the operational inclusion of the Oromo Liberation Army (OLA) in a broad, multi-ethnic national coalition alongside northern nationalist forces.

While the manifesto is presented in the noble language of constitutional rescue, democratic transition and anti-authoritarian solidarity, rigorous academic interrogation reveals deep structural contradictions. This critique examines the document across four areas: its historical assumptions, its transactional approach to constitutional law, its evasion of moral accountability, and the dangerous flaws of its ‘negative solidarity’ framework.

The Historical Assumptions

For over a decade, Oromo nationalist intellectual production has relied on a rigid, essentialist framing of Ethiopian history. It positioned the Oromo struggle as a defensive war against a deep-seated ‘Abyssinian settler-colonial structure’, traditionally represented by northern centralist forces such as the contemporary Fano movement.

The 17 October manifesto overturns this view. It shifts the primary threat away from historical cultural structures and focuses it entirely on the person of a single ruler in the Arat Kilo palace. By redefining the enemy as a lone dictator rather than a long-standing regional threat, the Council attempts to make an alliance with northern forces appear historically valid.

This sudden ideological shift suggests that the historical narratives used by the Oromo intelligentsia are fluid and transactional rather than fixed truths. It reveals that long-held grievances can be quickly set aside when political necessity dictates.

‘Long-held grievances can be quickly set aside when political necessity dictates.’

The Transactional Approach to Constitutional Law

The manifesto speaks warmly of an inclusive transition, yet it ignores the deep constitutional divisions between the groups it seeks to unite. The Oromo political camp — the OLF, the OLA and the OPDO alike — is ideologically committed to radical national self-determination and to preserving the ethno-federal structure of the 1995 Constitution. Its new northern allies, by stark contrast, view that very constitution as the primary source of instability, state-sponsored division and minority erasure.

The Evasion of Moral Accountability

By remaining silent on critical issues — language policy, administrative mapping and contested regional borders — the manifesto relies on a dangerous approach to statecraft. It asks all Ethiopians to invest in a political alliance that leaves its deepest legal and constitutional contradictions unresolved.

The Council argues that horizontal ethnic conflicts are not deeply rooted but are artificial crises manufactured by government cadres to keep the population divided. Political manipulation certainly plays a role; using it as an all-encompassing explanation, however, is intellectually dishonest.

This framing strips local armed actors of moral agency and accountability. By attributing long-standing regional violence entirely to palace intrigue, the scholars shield their own political base from self-reflection. For an inclusive national audience, this evasion undermines the manifesto’s moral standing. True reconciliation requires direct acknowledgement of harm caused by one’s own movement, not merely a denunciation of the state.

The Dangerous Flaws of ‘Negative Solidarity’

The coalition endorsed by the Council is a prime example of negative solidarity: a partnership united by what it opposes rather than what it builds. History shows that alliances formed solely to remove a central authority tend to fall apart once that authority is gone.

Because the manifesto fails to establish a shared vision for governance, it risks creating a dangerous power vacuum. Without pre-negotiated agreements on territorial administration and resource sharing, the removal of the current regime would be likely to trigger open conflict between the newly allied factions. For the Ethiopian public, this approach does not resolve the threat of civil war; it merely postpones it.

‘This approach does not resolve the threat of civil war; it merely postpones it.’

Historical Reciprocity: A Preamble to Any Multi-Ethnic Coalition

The manifesto is a significant geopolitical development, marking a notable break in the Council’s traditional silence on alternative political partnerships. Yet for a broad national alliance to be authentic, it cannot rest simply on shared opposition to a dictator in Arat Kilo. It demands a fundamental, unvarnished reckoning with history.

For decades, the Amhara people have endured systematic oppression, cultural marginalisation and targeted violence. These realities have been structurally protected and validated by the silence, or the active participation, of the Oromo political and academic establishment.

A genuine alliance requires more than a temporary convergence of military interests. It demands a deep commitment to truth, historical reciprocity and the correction of destructive political narratives.

An Audit of Oromo Intellectual Liability

To build a stable future, the Oromo intelligentsia must move past political convenience and explicitly acknowledge its role in shaping the current crises across three historical phases:

1. The Derg era: validation of a brutal military junta in which Oromo actors were prominent.
2. The 1995 regime architecture: joint engineering, with the TPLF, of an ethno-federal system that structurally disadvantaged the Amhara.
3. The contemporary system: ideological shielding of factions responsible for horizontal violence.

I. The validation of the Derg

The narrative that positions Oromo elites purely as victims of centralised state power ignores the realities of the late twentieth century. Oromo intellectuals and ideologues provided significant administrative support, structural validation and ideological backing to the Derg.

The Derg — in whose membership and inner circle Oromo officers were prominent — unleashed widespread violence, targeting traditional institutions and systematically marginalising the Amhara peasantry, landholders and cultural leaders under the guise of revolutionary progress.

II. The engineering of the 1995 constitutional order

Following the transition of 1991, the Oromo political establishment, represented by the OPDO in alliance with the TPLF, actively constructed the current ethno-federal system.

Oromo scholars helped supply the theoretical framework for the 1995 Constitution, which established an asymmetric administrative model. That system made the Amhara a permanent structural target, recasting millions living outside their designated region as ‘settlers’ (መጤ) or foreigners on their own ancestral lands.

III. The ideological shielding of modern extremism

In the contemporary era, the line between Oromo state actors (the OPDO, now the Prosperity Party’s Oromia wing) and armed insurgencies (the OLF and OLA) has often blurred into a shared ethno-nationalist objective.

Oromo intellectuals have frequently used their platforms to downplay, dismiss or externalise massacres and forced displacements in areas such as Wollega, the Oromia Special Zones and Arsi. By framing these atrocities as ‘palace manipulation’ or ‘external provocation’, sections of the Oromo intelligentsia have provided ideological cover for factions implicated in widespread human rights violations.

Core Requirements for Genuine Reconciliation

Before any joint political blueprint is signed, our representatives must demand that the Council of Oromo Scholars address four essential commitments.

I. Explicit acknowledgement of historical harm

The Council must issue a direct, public statement recognising the targeted marginalisation, dispossession and state-backed violence directed against the Amhara population over the past half-century. It must formally reject the rhetoric that labels the Amhara as historical ‘oppressors’ or ‘settlers’, a narrative long used to justify local violence.

II. Active deconstruction of divisive fabrications

A formal commitment to revise and correct biased historical accounts in educational and political literature must follow. Intellectuals must work to dismantle the political myths that treat the presence of Amhara communities in Oromia or the south as an obstacle to local self-determination.

III. Unequivocal denunciation of factional extremism

There must be an unconditional public rejection of every entity — whether embedded in the state apparatus as OPDO cadres or operating as the OLA and OLF — that has engaged in or supported ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. Intellectual alignment must rest on a shared commitment to holding the perpetrators of these atrocities legally accountable.

IV. Structural and material guarantees

Oromo intellectuals must accept that political reconciliation is impossible without addressing constitutional flaws, redrawing unjust administrative boundaries and securing the individual rights of all citizens regardless of ethnic identity.

A Constitutional Pre-Conditions Framework

With that historical context established, the following Four Pillars of Structural Authenticity can serve as non-negotiable criteria for evaluating any potential alliance.

A. Constitutional overhaul and the fate of ethno-federalism

• Article 39 reform. An absolute commitment to removing Article 39’s self-determination and unconditional secession clauses, replacing them with a framework focused strictly on administrative decentralisation.
• Supremacy of citizenship. Full legal supremacy of individual citizenship rights over collective ethnic claims, so that every Ethiopian can live, vote, own property and hold office in any region without discrimination.
• The sovereignty clause. Revision of Article 8 so that sovereignty resides in the Ethiopian people as a whole, rather than being divided among distinct ‘Nations, Nationalities and Peoples’.

B. Territorial sovereignty and historical correction

• Recognition of restored lands. Unconditional, written recognition of Wolkait, Tegede, Telemt, Metekel, Raya and other areas as permanent components of the Amhara regional administration.
• Rejection of interim arrangements. Explicit refusal to accept temporary federal administrations, third-party, foreign or UN monitoring zones, or post-transition referendums in these areas.
• Annulment of coercive mapping. A legal commitment to invalidate all internal border changes imposed by the TPLF-led EPRDF after 1991.

C. Security autonomy and regional demarcation

• Local security supremacy. No external armed units may deploy within Amhara communities.
• No premature demobilisation. Rejection of any Disarmament, Demobilisation and Reintegration (DDR) scheme until a revised constitutional order has been fully ratified.

D. Administrative, fiscal and linguistic decentralisation

• Federal resource equity. A legally binding fiscal formula under which federal budget and infrastructure funds are allocated strictly by population and development deficit, bypassing regional political favouritism.
• Open economic corridors. Written guarantees of the permanent, unhindered movement of goods, trade and private transport across all regional boundaries, free from localised ethnic tolling or administrative blockades.

Conclusion

The manifesto issued by the Gumii Hayyoota Oromoo is a sophisticated exercise in realpolitik wrapped in the language of democratic rescue. Faced with political isolation and an exhausting military stalemate, the Oromo intelligentsia has adapted its public stance to build a broader front.

However, because the document relies on shifting historical narratives, evades moral accountability and fails to address deep constitutional contradictions, it cannot serve as a reliable blueprint for a stable transition. It remains a temporary tactical alignment rather than a durable foundation for national renewal.

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The views expressed are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of The Ethiopian Tribune.

HISTORY · DIASPORA · BATH

The Lion’s Refuge

Ninety years after Emperor Haile Selassie I came ashore in England, Bath gathered at Fairfield House and in its Abbey to remember the five years when an English spa city sheltered an African sovereign — and to ask what that hospitality still demands of us.

By Endex | Bath, October 2026

Princess Alexandra rose beneath the fan vaulting of Bath Abbey to read the oldest story the Ethiopian throne tells about itself: the Queen of Sheba travelling north with spices, gold and precious stones to test King Solomon with hard questions. For a dynasty that traced its line to that meeting, it was more than a lesson. It was a genealogy read aloud, in an English abbey, by a great-great-granddaughter of the last Emperor.

That evening — Sunday 18 October 2026 — fell exactly seventy-two years to the day after Emperor Haile Selassie I last prayed in the same Abbey, having just received the Freedom of the City of Bath. And it closed a weekend marking something older still: ninety years since a sovereign in exile, his armies broken and his capital in fascist hands, made his home on a hillside above the Avon.

I was privileged to attend both the commemorative banquet at Fairfield House on Friday 16 October and, two days later, the special prayers and Choral Evensong, alongside Lij Mulugeta Asrate Kassa, members of the Ethiopian imperial family and many distinguished guests. What follows sets those two evenings against the history they honoured — a history that, as Bath’s own historians have long observed, most biographies of the Emperor hurry past.

[ PHOTO: Bath Abbey, Choral Evensong, Sunday 18 October 2026]

The Road from Djibouti

On 2 May 1936, with Italian columns closing on Addis Ababa, Haile Selassie named his cousin Ras Imru Haile Selassie Prince Regent and left with his family for French Somaliland. The decision has been argued over ever since. To some of his nobles, flight was dishonour. The Emperor reasoned that an Ethiopia without a living, recognised sovereign abroad would simply be swallowed, and that the League of Nations — of which his country had been a member since 1923 — was the last forum in which it might still be defended. Days before he left, he told the foreign press that by fighting on he had been “standing guard in the last citadel of collective security.”

Royal Navy ships carried the imperial party onward; the family rested in Jerusalem before continuing west by way of Gibraltar. On 3 June 1936 — Ginbot 26, 1928 in the Ethiopian calendar — they came ashore at Southampton and travelled on to London by train. The newsreels of the day show the Emperor stepping off the ship, the train pulling away, and a waiting crowd in the capital; later footage catches the family on a balcony at Princes Gate, and a young princess speaking into a microphone.

The public’s welcome was warm. The government’s was cooler: anxious not to provoke Rome, Stanley Baldwin’s cabinet received him as a private visitor rather than a head of state. Within three weeks he was on his way to Geneva.

Geneva, and the Silence that Followed

On 30 June 1936 Haile Selassie addressed the Assembly of the League of Nations. Although fluent in French, he chose to speak in Amharic. Italian journalists in the gallery jeered until they were removed; the Emperor waited, and then delivered the speech that made him a moral symbol for a generation. He described poison gas sprayed from aircraft on soldiers, villagers and livestock, and warned the assembled nations that what was being done to Ethiopia would in time be done to them. Within days, the League voted to lift its sanctions on Italy.

It was after Geneva — his appeal rejected, his treasury all but empty — that the Emperor turned towards the West Country.

Why Bath?

He arrived in Bath on 5 August 1936 and took rooms at the Bath Spa Hotel; a photograph in the Bath Chronicle archive shows him on its steps beside the manager. Another shows him waiting on the platform at Bath Spa station to greet the Empress Menen. Bath offered what London could not: discretion, a gentler pace, the reputed benefit of its waters, and a quieter stage for a monarch who could no longer afford a grand one.

Bath offered what London could not: discretion, and a quieter stage for a monarch who could no longer afford a grand one.

The house the family settled on was Fairfield, a limestone Italianate villa of about 1850 at Newbridge, on the western edge of the city, which came onto the market after the death of its previous owner, a Mrs Campbell-White. While it was readied, the household stayed on at the hotel. More than one writer has noticed the quiet irony: a ruler driven out by Italian fascism found sanctuary in a former Roman city, behind the façade of an Italian-style villa.

Fairfield was never merely a residence. It sheltered the Emperor’s family, his advisers and Orthodox clergy; a small telephone room and the morning room served as offices where he received supporters and petitioners. A generation of Bath children grew up able to say that the Emperor of Ethiopia had been their next-door neighbour — a claim the city’s oral historians have heard many times over.

[ PHOTO: Fairfield House, Newbridge ]

A Court Without a Country

Exile was an education in humility. Keith Bowers, the former BBC executive producer whose Imperial Exile remains the only full-length study of these years, portrays an Emperor nearly crushed by debt, diplomatic neglect and grief, and has argued that the period marked Haile Selassie far more deeply than his biographers allow. Fittingly, Bowers was among the guests on both days of this year’s commemoration, at the Fairfield banquet and at the Abbey, a decade after he launched his book in the 80th anniversary year.

Much of the Emperor’s public work in Britain ran through his envoy in London, Hakim Workneh Eshete — known to the British as Dr Charles Martin — the Ethiopian Minister to the Court of St James’s. When the Emperor, then staying in Bath, visited the Shah Jahan Mosque in Woking on 26 August 1936, the local paper recorded Dr Martin and Ras Kassa at his side. The legation also gave work to the Jamaican poet Una Marson, who served as its English-speaking secretary and accompanied the Emperor to Geneva. Even that partnership would later strain under the weight of money the exiled court simply did not have — one of exile’s many private wounds.

Some who came never went home. Blattengeta Heruy Wolde Selassie, the Foreign Minister and one of the Emperor’s most trusted counsellors, died in September 1938 and lies in Locksbrook Cemetery, a short walk from Fairfield. The Emperor himself used the long Bath years to dictate the first volume of his autobiography, My Life and Ethiopia’s Progress.

Then there was Princess Tsehai, his youngest daughter. At seventeen she began training as a resident student nurse at Great Ormond Street Hospital for Sick Children in August 1936, and on 25 August 1939 she qualified as a State Registered Children’s Nurse — Ethiopia’s first trained nurse. When war came she continued her general training with Guy’s Hospital, then evacuated to Pembury in Kent. She returned home with her people, married, and died in childbirth at Nekemte on 17 August 1942, aged twenty-two. Her father’s memorial to her, the Princess Tsehai Memorial Hospital, was funded in part by the friends she had made in England. Bath has not forgotten her: since 2021 her portrait has looked out from a mural in the atrium of the city’s Royal United Hospital.

The Road Home

Rescue came, in the end, from the war the League had failed to prevent. When Mussolini declared war on Britain in June 1940, the exiled Emperor ceased to be an embarrassment and became an ally. He left Bath that summer for Sudan. In January 1941 he crossed back onto Ethiopian soil near the village of Um Idda, and on 5 May 1941 — five years to the day after Italian troops had entered his capital — he returned to Addis Ababa and reclaimed his throne.

1954: The Freedom of the City

He came back to Bath only once as a reigning monarch. On 18 October 1954, during a state visit to Britain, he received the Freedom of the City — the highest honour the city can bestow — from the Mayor, Councillor Gallop, and walked with him along the High Street to the Abbey. The Bath Chronicle’s photographers followed him to the Stothert & Pitt engineering works and to a house on the Moorfields estate, where Mrs Edith Rowland had laid a table for tea that his timetable would not allow him to stay for. Small details, but they speak of a visit conducted less as pageantry than as a return among neighbours.

Four years later, in 1958, he made his gratitude permanent, presenting Fairfield House to the city as a home for its elderly. His great-granddaughter Princess Esther Selassie Antohin — Aster Woldeselassie in Amharic — who chairs today’s Fairfield House organisation, has described the gift as “a statement of his gratitude to the people of Bath.” The house served for decades as a residence for the aged, and the bungalows of Empress Menen Gardens still stand beside it. Today, Grade II listed and run as a community interest company, it hosts tours, exhibitions, Ethiopian Orthodox and Rastafari gatherings alike, and now carries a blue plaque.

Friday: A Banquet at Fairfield

It was in this house that the anniversary weekend began. On Friday evening Fairfield was full: members of the imperial family, clergy, civic guests, Rastafari elders, Ethiopian families from across Britain and the house’s own volunteers. The address of the evening came from Lij Mulugeta Asrate Kassa, a kinsman of both the Emperor and Empress Menen Asfaw: his mother, he explained, is a granddaughter of the Empress through her earlier marriage. He spoke of how destiny had drawn him to Fairfield “through thick and thin,” and of a family bond that the house makes tangible.

The theme of the evening was welcome. He and others described Fairfield as a “United Nation in Bath” — a place where people of every background and age meet, and where nobody in need is turned away, fulfilling the inclusive vision, they said, that His Imperial Majesty would have wanted. Guests were told, too, that Princess Esther and Princess Alexandra would take an active part in the commemorative Evensong at the Abbey on Sunday.

A United Nation in Bath — where nobody in need is ever turned away.

https://www.youtube.com/live/sadp3zSXmO8?is=Oc7hgfVYjjwiwI2q

[ Video: The banquet at Fairfield House, Friday 16 October 2026 ]

Sunday: Sheba, Philip and the Emperor’s Voice

On Sunday I joined Lij Mulugeta and members of the royal families for the special prayers that culminated in Choral Evensong. The Abbey’s welcome set out the purpose plainly: to mark ninety years since the royal family’s residence in exile in Bath, and to celebrate the enduring bonds between the city and Ethiopia. Among those greeted were Her Highness Princess Esther, great-granddaughter of Haile Selassie I; Dr Alexandra, his great-great-granddaughter; the Mayor of Bath, Councillor Ruth Malloy; and representatives of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, Fairfield House and BMSA.

After Princess Alexandra’s lesson from 1 Kings came the most affecting moment of the evening. Into the stillness of the nave the Abbey played an archival recording of the Emperor himself, speaking in 1938 at the Royal Albert Hall. He spoke of the great antiquity of the Bible in Ethiopia, of Scripture as a guide that transcends race and empire, and of the comfort it offers in every trouble. He spoke, too, of commissioning a new translation, so that every Ethiopian might read the Scriptures for themselves and find in them truth, refuge and a rallying point for humanity amid the perplexities of the age.

It is worth pausing on the date. In 1938 the Emperor had no throne, little money and fading hope of foreign help; yet he was planning a Bible for his people. The ambition outlived the exile. After liberation he convened a Bible committee in 1947, and the revised Amharic Bible issued under his authority appeared in 1960/61. Heard by his descendants in an English abbey, his voice carried the weight of a man speaking from the very depths of exile about the one possession no invader could take.

The second lesson, read by Princess Esther, was Acts 8:26–40: the deacon Philip on the desert road to Gaza, the Ethiopian court official reading Isaiah in his chariot, and the baptism beside the road — the first recorded Ethiopian follower of Christ. Between them the two readings spanned the long arc of Ethiopian faith, from Sheba’s journey to Jerusalem to the official’s journey home.

[ PHOTO: Princess Alexandra, Princess Esther and Lij Mulugeta at the Bath Abbey ]

A Photograph Handed Back

Not every guest that afternoon came with a title. Among those who lingered in the nave after the service was Alan Gait, a frail, white-haired Englishman whose memory of the exile was a family one. His father, John Gait, he explained, had taught one of the Emperor’s sons to drive: Prince Makonnen, later Duke of Harar, who was still a boy when the family came to England. On hearing that Bath was marking the anniversary, Mr Gait had come to the Abbey to tell the story in person, and to hand over a photograph of his father at the wheel beside the young prince.

It is a small story, and it is exactly the kind on which the history of the exile rests: the hotelier, the matron, the neighbour on Newbridge Hill, and here John Gait, an Englishman teaching an Ethiopian prince to drive. It carries a shadow too. Prince Makonnen, widely held to be the Emperor’s favourite son and the father of Prince Mikael, Duke of Harar, was killed in a car crash between Debre Zeyit and Nazret on 13 May 1957, aged thirty-two. The skill he learned in exile went with him onto the Ethiopian road where his life ended. Ninety years on, the photograph has come home to the family it belongs to.

A Theology of Refuge

The preacher took the anniversary as the text behind the texts. Ninety years ago, the sermon recalled, a family fleeing fascist invasion found a home at Fairfield. From that he drew three words — refuge, compassion and hospitality — and traced them back to the Benedictine community whose ministry first shaped the Abbey, through the teaching of Jesus, and forward into a present that needs them urgently as a counter to fear and division.

The two lessons, he suggested, belong together: Solomon receiving a foreign queen, Philip baptising a foreign official. Both describe a single, global family of faith that no frontier can divide. The Emperor’s own reflections on the warm refuge he had found in Bath were offered as a living example of that spirit of welcome, and the sermon closed with a charge: that the congregation recommit its churches, communities and nations to being places of safe refuge, deep compassion and generous hospitality.

Refuge, compassion, hospitality — three words carried from a Benedictine cloister to a fleeing Emperor, and handed back to us.

What Bath Gave, and What It Asks

It would be easy to treat the anniversary as a pleasant chapter of civic heritage. The record is more demanding than that. The British state kept the Emperor at arm’s length; it was townspeople — a hotelier, a hospital matron, the neighbours on Newbridge Hill, the families who lined the High Street in 1954 — who did the welcoming. Hospitality, in Bath’s story, was not policy. It was character.

For Ethiopians, the anniversary arrives at a painful hour. Ninety years on, our people are again scattered across the world — journalists, clergy and ordinary families, many driven abroad not by a foreign army but by conflict and repression at home. Bath’s example is a reminder that exile is survivable when someone opens a door, and that those who are received carry a duty to remember. Haile Selassie remembered. He came back, and he gave back.

Ninety years ago a city opened its door to a stranger who happened to be an emperor. On Sunday evening, in the Abbey where he last prayed, his descendants read the scriptures of his people to the city that had sheltered him. It was, in the fullest sense, a homecoming — and a reminder that the measure of a place is not the guests it honours, but the strangers it receives.

With Gratitude

My special appreciation goes to Ras Benji, William, Fisseha and Pauline, whose welcome and generosity made both days possible. Thanks are due also to the Revd Ian Mills and Betsy Blatchley, Rector and Missioner of Bath Abbey, for arranging the commemorative service; to Bath’s civic leaders and the friends of Fairfield House; and to the team and volunteers whose quiet work keeps the Emperor’s house open to all.

Further Reading

Keith Bowers, Imperial Exile: Emperor Haile Selassie in Britain, 1936–1940 (2016); video of the book’s launch, 2016: youtu.be/vLOchRiPF5A. Shawn Sobers (dir.), Footsteps of the Emperor (1999), presented by Benjamin Zephaniah. Bath in Time / Bath Record Office, Bath Chronicle photographic collection (1936; 1954). Choral Evensong, Bath Abbey, 18 October 2026: youtube.com/live/ULLuRiyKb54. Fairfield House remarks, October 2026: youtube.com/watch?v=sadp3zSXmO8.

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የማርኮ ሩቢኦና የጎንደር አደባባዮች ግልጽ መልእክት፣ በአፋብን ታጣቂዎች ላይ የሕግና የዲፕሎማሲ አደጋዎች፣

በዶ/ር ሶስና ታደሰ (የፖለቲካና ስትራቴጂክ ጥናት ክፍል)

ከትግል ሞራል ወዴት?

መግቢያ፦ የሞራል ልዕልና መሸርሸር እና የትረካዎች ፍጭት

በኢትዮጽያ ውስጥ የአማራ ሕዝብ በደረሰበት የዘር መድሎና ጭፍጨፋን ለመመከት የጀመረው የሕልውናና የፍትሕ ተጋድሎ ከተጀመረበት ጊዜ አንስቶ ዋና መታወቂያው፣ ሕዝባዊ ቅቡልነቱና የዓለም አቀፍ ድጋፍ ማግኛ መሠረቱ «የሞራል ልዕልና» (Moral High Ground) ነበር። ይህ ትግል የሕዝብን ሕልውና የማስከበር፣ ታሪካዊ አጽመ-ርስትን የማስመለስና የማስከበር፣ ፍትሐዊት ሀገር የመገንባት ታላቅ ዓላማ ያነገበ እንጂ፤ የሕዝብ ሀብትና የሲቪል ተቋማትን የማደምደቅ አውዳሚ የሽብር መስመር አልነበረም።

በቅርቡ በጥቅምት 7 ቀን 2019 ዓ.ም (October 17, 2026) ጥዋት በጎንደር፣ በወሎና በሌሎች የአማራ ክልል ከተሞች የተካሄዱትን ሕዝባዊ እንቅስቃሴዎች አስመልክቶ በሁለት አጽራረ-ትረካዎች (Counter-narratives) መካከል ፍጭት ሲደረግ ይስተዋላል። በአንድ በኩል የብልጽግና አገዛዝ የካድሬ መዋቅሩንና አምባገነናዊ ግፊቱን ተጠቅሞ እንቅስቃሴውን «የብልፅግናና የቀይ ባሕር አጀንዳ ድጋፍ» አስመስሎ ለዲፕሎማሲ ጥቅም ለመሸጥ ሲራወጭ፤ በሌላ በኩል ደግሞ ራሱን «አፋብህን» ብሎ የሚጠራው ስብስብና የፅምዶ አራጋቢዎቹ በተለያየ የሶሻል ሚዲያ እና በዓለም አቀፍ ድልድዮች በኩል ሕዝቡን «በግዳጅ የተሰበሰበ የፖለቲካ ሰለባ» አድርገው በመሳል የራሳቸውን የከሰረ የፖለቲካ ውድቀት ለመሸፈን ይሞክራሉ።

ነገር ግን በመሬት ላይ ያለውን ታሪካዊ፣ ወታደራዊና የመልከዓ-ምድር ፖለቲካ (Geopolitical) እውነታ በአፅኖት የሚመረምር አካል የሚደርስበት ድምዳሜ ግልጽ ነው፦ ይህ አጋጣሚ የአገዛዙ ድጋፍ ሳይሆን፣ ከሕወሓትና ከቀጣናዊ ኃይሎች ጋር ጥምረት በመፍጠር የአማራን የህልውና ትግል አሳልፈው በሸጡት የ«ፅምዶ aka ትብብር» ደላሎች ላይ የተቃጣ የቀጥታ ሕዝባዊ ቁጣ፣ ማግለልና የስህተት ዋጋ ነው!

ሕዝብ የራሱ የሆነ የአስተውሎት እና የትዝብት ማሕደር አለው፤ በተለይ የአማራ ሕዝብ የአማራ ፋኖን ትግል በቅርበት ሲከታተልና ሲታዘብ ወደ ትግሉ ሲቀርብና ሲርቅ ማስተዋላችን ያለፉት የ3 ዓመት ተኩል ታሪካችን ነው። ሕዝቡ በእውነት ይህንን ሰልፍ ለማድረግ ያስገደደው የብልፅግና ሥርዓት ተመችቶት ሳይሆን፣ ያመናቸው ልጆቹ ስለከዱት የመጣ ቁጣ መሆኑን በጥልቀት መመርመር ግድ ይለናል። በተለይም በጥቅምት 7 ቀን 2019 ዓ.ም (October 17, 2026) ጥዋት ላይ በጎንደርና በወሎ አደባባዮች ላይላዩን ሲታይ የብልፅግና የድጋፍ የሚመስል እውነታው ግን በፅምዶ ደላሎች ላይ የተቀጣጠለው ሕዝባዊ ቁጣና ማግለል ከተከናወነ ከሰዓታት በኋላ፤ በዚያው ዕለት ምሽት የአሜሪካ የውጭ ጉዳይ ሚኒስትር ማርኮ ሩቢኦ በአዲስ አበባ የተፈጸመውን የድሮን ጥቃት የተገንጣይ ሐይሎች ‘የሽብር ድርጊት’ ሲሉ መኮነናቸው፤ የሕዝቡ አስተውሎትና ቁጣ ከዓለም አቀፉ የዲፕሎማሲ መድረክ አቅጣጫ ጋር የተጣጣመና ቅደመ-ግንዛቤና ቅድመ-አስታውሎት ያለው መሆኑን ያረጋግጣል።

1. የካይሮው ድብቅ ስብሰባና የ10ሺህ ፋኖ ጥያቄ ሴራ

በቀጣናው የተዘረጋውን አደገኛ የመልከዓ-ምድር ፖለቲካዊ ወጥመድ ነጥቦቹን በማያያዝ ስንመረምረው የሚከተሉት ጥብቅ ስትራቴጂካዊ እውነታዎች ይገለጣሉ፦

1.  የ10ሺህ አማራ ፋኖ ተዋጊዎች ጥያቄ (Instrumentalization)፦ ሕወሓት «ፅምዶ/ትብብር» በተባለው መዋቅር አማካኝነት ቢያንስ 10,000 የአማራ ፋኖ ወጣት ተዋጊ እንዲቀርብለት ለበላይ አካላቱ (ለግብፅና ኤርትራ) ጥያቄ ማቅረቡና ጥያቄው ወደ አፋብህን መውረዱ ይገመታል። በራሱ ሕዝባዊ ቅቡልነት ያጣውና የሰው ኃይል እጥረት ያጋጠመው ሕወሓት፣ የአማራን ወጣት በ«ትብብር» ስም ለራሱ የፖለቲካ ህዳሴና ወልቃይት/ራያን የመያዝ አጀንዳው «ቅጥረኛ ወታደር» (Proxy Agent) አድርጎ ለመጠቀም አቅዷል።

2.  አማራን የጦር አውደ-ግንባር (Battleground) የማድረግ ሴራ፦ በግብፅ፣ ኤርትራ፣ ሱዳንና ሶማሊያ መሪዎች ደረጃ የተካሄዱት ድብቅ ውይይቶችና ስትራቴጂካዊ ውሳኔዎች ዋና ዓላማ፣ ጦርነቱን ተገፍቶ ወደ አማራ ክልል እንዲገባ ማድረግ ነው። የቀጠናው ኃይሎች «የአማራን ሕዝብ በዚህ ጦርነት ማውደም ከተቻለ፣ ዳግም ኢትዮጵያ እንደ ሀገር ማንሰራራት አትችልም» የሚል ስትራቴጂያዊ ግምገማ በማስቀመጥ አማራን የውክልና ጦርነት ማገዶ ለማድረግ አቅደዋል።

3.  መሠረተ-ልማቶችን የመደምሰስ አጀንዳ፦ ጦርነቱ በክልሉ ውስጥ ሲፋፋም ሕዝቡ እንዲፈናቀል፣ ትልልቅ ድልድዮች፣ የኤሌክትሪክ ስቴሽኖች እና ዋና ዋና የሲቪል መሠረተ-ልማቶች እንዲወድሙና ሕዝቡ ለውጭ ኃይሎች ጥገኛ እንዲሆን መታቀዱን መረጃዎች ያመላክታሉ።

2. የሞራል ልዕልና መሸርሸር፦ ከ«ሴቶች ረሽነናል» እስከ «የሲቪል አውሮፕላን ድብደባ»

የፅምዶ ደላሎች በሕዝቡ ዘንድ የተተፉበት ምክንያት በመሬት ላይ በፈጸሙት የክህደት ቁማር ብቻ ሳይሆን፣ በከባድ የሞራል፣ የዲፕሎማሲና የሰብአዊ መብት ውድቀታቸው ጭምር ነው፦

ቀደም ሲል የአፋብን ቃል አቀባይ የሆነው አስረስ ማረ በጥር 2018 (Jan 3, 2026) ለዓለም አቀፉ ሚዲያ (BBC አማርኛ) ወጥቶ «ሴቶችን ረሽነናል» በማለት የፈጸመው ያልበሰለ፣ የሕግ ግንዛቤ የጎደለውና የትግሉን ሞራላዊ ማማ ያወረደ ከባድ የፖለቲካ ስህተት ስናስታውስ፤ በመቀጠል ደግሞ በ«ፅምዶ» መረብ ውስጥ ባሉ የአፋብንና የፅምዶ የሶሻል ሚዲያ አራጋቢዎች በጥቅምት 2026 (October 1, 2026 በTikTok Live) በተናገሩት የሽብር ፕሮፖጋንዳ «የኢትዮጵያ አየር መንገድ ቦይንግ (Boeing) አውሮፕላን አየር ላይ ተመቶ ይውደቅ» የሚለው ጥሪ የዚያው የአስረስ ማሬ የከሰረና አደገኛ መንገድ ቀጥተኛ ተቀፅላ መሆኑን ያሳያል! እንደገና ባሳለፍነው ሳምንት የሕወሓት ጥበቃ ልምና፦ አስረስ ማሬ የሕወሓት ፕሮፖጋንዲስት በሆነው ሪዕዮት ሚዲያ በመቅረብ «የሕወሓት (TPLF) አመራር እንዳይፈርስ የትግራይ ወጣቶች ሕወሓትን ይታደጉ» ብሎ ሲለማመጥ መደመጡ፣ አፋብን ድርጅቱ በአማራ ስም የተቋቋመ «የአማርኛ ተናጋሪ ወያኔዎች» መሆኑን አረጋግጧል።

የእነዚህ 3ቱ እንደምሳሌ የተጠቀሱ አደገኛ ንግግሮች ብቻ መዋቅራዊና በሕዝብ ስነ-ልቦናዊ ትስስር ብሎም በትግሉ ላይ ያደረሰው ጉዳት እጅግ የከፋ መሆኑን በግል ያሳያሉ፦

●  የሕግና የሞራል ውል ማጣት፦ አስረስ ማሬ በወቅቱ የፈጸመው ተራ የቃላት ስህተት አይደለም፣ ግልጽ ወንጀል ነው! የዓለም አቀፍ ሰብአዊ መብት ሕግን (IHL) የሚጥስ እንደነበር ሁሉ፤ ዛሬም በቲክቶክ «ቦይንግ አውሮፕላን አየር ላይ ይመታ» የሚለው ጥሪ በ1971ዱ የሞንትሪያል ስምምነትና በ1944ቱ የቺካጎ ስምምነት (Article 3 bis) መሠረት ፍጹም «የዓለም አቀፍ አቪዬሽን ሽብርተኝነት» (Incitement to Aviation Terrorism) የሚያስደምድም ከባድ ወንጀል ነው።

●  የሲቪል አቪዬሽን ላይ ያጣጣረ የጋራ የሽብር ጥሪ፦ በትግራይ ክልል ይፋዊ ደብዳቤ ላይ «በሲቪል አቪዬሽንና በበረራዎች ላይ እገዳ እንዲደረግ» ከተላለፈው ጥሪ ጋር በተቆራኘ መልኩ፣ የፅምዶ አራጋቢዎች በቲክቶክ «የኢትዮጵያ አየር መንገድ ቦይንግ አውሮፕላን ይመታ…» እያሉ የሽብር ጥሪ በማስተላለፍ የሀገር ሀብትንና የሲቪል ተቋማትን ለመደመሰስ ያቀዱት ሴራ ይፋ ሆኗል።

●  ለብልፅግና አገዛዝ የሚሰጥ የፕሮፓጋንዳ ካርድ፦ አገዛዙ በዓለም አቀፍ ዲፕሎማሲ መድረክ «ተቃዋሚዎቼና ፋኖዎች የሕግ የበላይነት አፍራሾችና የሽብርተኞች ስብስብ ናቸው» የሚለውን የሐሰት ትረካ ለማስረገጥ ሲታገል ነበር። የአስረስ ማረ ዓይኑን ያፈጠጠ የወንጀል መግለጫ እና የቅርቡ የቦይንግ አውሮፕላን የይመታ ጥሪ ለአገዛዙ ይህንኑ የሐሰት ካርድ በእጁ አሳልፈው የሰጡ የከሰሩ መንገዶች ናቸው!

3. የአማራ ፋኖ ይህንን የሽብር ቅስቀሳ በጊዜ ካልመከተ የሚገጥመው መዋቅራዊና ዓለም አቀፋዊ የሕግ አደጋዎች

የአማራ ፋኖ ‘አፋብን’ ወይም ‘ትብብር’ በሚል መረብ ውስጥ በስሙ የሚደረገውን የሲቪል ተቋማት የመደምሰስና የሽብር ቅስቀሳ፣ ብዙ ሚሊዮን ሕዝብ በሚኖሩበት፣ በርካታ አለምአቀፍ የዲፕሎማቲክ ተቋማት በሚገኙበት ትልልቅ ከተምች ላይ የሚፈፀም የድሮን ሆነ የቦንብ ጥቃት በይፋ ሰብሮ ካላወገዘና ራሱን ካላጠራ፣ በዓለም አቀፍ ሕግና የፖለቲካ ሳይንስ መርሆዎች መሠረት የሚከተሉት ከባድ አደጋዎች ይደቅኑበታል፦

1.  በዓለም አቀፍ ደረጃ በ«ሽብርተኝነት» የመፈረጅ አደጋ (Terrorist Designation)፦ በዓለም አቀፍ የፀረ-ሽብርተኝነት ሕግጋት (UN Security Council Resolutions) መሠረት፣ የሲቪል አቪዬሽን ጥቃት ማስፈራሪያዎችን በዝምታ ማለፍ ወይም ይሁንታ መስጠት አንድን የታጠቀ ሐይል ከ«ነፃነት ታጋይነት» (Freedom Fighters) ቀይሮ ወደ «ሕገ-ወጥ የሽብር ቡድን» (Violent Non-State Actor / Terrorist Entity) ደረጃ ይከተዋል። ይህ ከተከሰተ ደግሞ የፋኖ እንቅስቃሴ በዓለም አቀፉ ማህበረሰብ፣ በዓለም አቀፍ አቪዬሽን ድርጅት (ICAO) እና በምዕራባውያን ሀገራት ዘንድ በይፋ ታግዶ ሕጋዊ ቅቡልነቱን ያጣል።

2.  የዲያስፖራውና የገንዘብ እንቅስቃሴ መታገድ (Financial & Assets Sanctions)፦ የሽብርተኝነት ቅስቀሳን በጊዜ አለመመከት በውጭ ሀገር የሚኖሩ ደጋፊዎችን፣ የፋኖ አስተባባሪዎችንና የገንዘብ አሰባሳቢዎችን አደጋ ላይ ይጥላል። የፋትፍ (FATF) እና የዓለም አቀፍ ባንክ ሕጎች በሽብርተኝነት ጥሪ ከተጠረጠሩ አካላት ጋር የሚደረግን ማንኛውንም የገንዘብ ዝውውር ስለሚያስቆሙ፣ የዲያስፖራው የፋይናንስና የዲፕሎማሲ ድጋፍ ሙሉ በሙሉ ይዘጋል።

3.  የመሪዎች በዓለም አቀፍ ፍርድ ቤት መጠየቅ (Universal Jurisdiction & Command Responsibility)፦ በዓለም አቀፍ የወንጀለኞች ፍርድ ቤት (ICC) እና በዓለም አቀፍ የሰብአዊ መብት ሕግ መሠረት «የዕዝ ኃላፊነት» (Command Responsibility) የሚባል መርህ አለ። የፋኖ መሪዎች በስማቸው የሚደረገውን የሲቪል አውሮፕላን የይመታ ጥሪ በይፋ ካላወገዙ፣ ወደፊት በሚፈጸም ማንኛውም ጥፋት በዓለም አቀፍ ሕግ «የሽብር ድርጊት አጋሪና ተባባሪ» (Complicity in Terrorism) ተደርገው በዓለም አቀፍ የእስር ትዕዛዝ ሊፈለጉ ይችላሉ።

4.  የሕዝባዊና የፖለቲካ ቅቡልነት ማጣት (Loss of Domestic Legitimacy)፦ የአማራ ሕዝብና የኢትዮጵያ ሕዝብ የሚታገለው የሕግ የበላይነትና ፍትሕ እንዲሰፍን እንጂ ሀገራዊ የጋራ ሀብት የሆነው የሲቪል ተቋማት እንዲወድሙ አይደለም። እንዲህ ያሉ ጥሪዎችን አለመመከት የሕዝቡን አመኔታ የሚያሳጣና ትግሉን የብልፅግና አገዛዝ ለሚያካሂደው በእነሱ አጠራር «የሕግ ማስከበር» ትረካ ተጋላጭ ያደርገዋል።

4. የታሪክ ቁስል፣ የፋኖዎች መከዳት እና የሕዝቡ አስተዋይነት

የአማራ ሕዝብ የሕልውና ትግል ሲጀመር፣ የሸዋ፣ ጎንደር፣ የወሎና የጎጃም ፋኖዎችና ሕዝቡ የያዙት መሠረታዊ አቋም የፀና ነበር፦ «ከሕልውናና ከርዕዮተ-ዓለም ገዳዮቻችን ከሕወሓትና ከኦነግ ጋር አንሰራም፣ ብልፅግና ጋርም አንደራደርም፤ የሕዝባችንን የፍትህ ጥያቄና አጽመ-ርስትና ደም ለፖለቲካ ቁማር አናውልም!» የሚል ፅኑ አቋም እንደነበራቸው ይታወቃል፤

ይሁንጂ በተለይም ከአፋጎ አመራሮች የነበረው የፖለቲካ ብልሽት አካሄድ ስር ሰዶ በአንድነት ስም አፋብን የሚል ድርጅት ከመሰረቱ በኋላ፣ ከአማራ ሕዝብ የዘወትር ጠላቶች ጋር ጥምረት በመፍጠር ትግሉን በድለላ አሳልፈው ለቀጠናው ቁማር ሽጠውታል፣ እነ ዘመነ ካሴና አስረስ ማረ በአፋብህን ስም ከሕወሓት ጋር ጥምረት ሲፈጥሩ፣ የመጀመሪያዎቹ ተከጅዎችና ሰለባዎች ከርዕዮተ-ዓለም ገዳዮች ጋር አንደራደርም ያሉ የጎንደር ፋኖዎች ነበሩ። ይህ የክህደት መንገድ የጀመረው ቀደም ብሎ እንደሆነ ግን ከዚህ ላይ ልብ ማለት ግድ ይላል። አፋብህን/ፅምዶ የሕወሓትን የ50 ዓመት መዋቅራዊ የዘር ማጥፋት፣ የወልቃይት፣ የጠገዴ፣ የጠለምትና የራያ ወረራ «እንደ ተራ የቀደመ የታሪክ ቅሬታ» አቅልሎ በማቅረብ፣ የአማራን ሕዝብ የሕልውና፣ የክብርና የዕጣ-ፈንታ ጉዳይ ለሕወሓትና ለውጭ ኃይሎች የውክልና ጦርነት «ማገዶ» ለማድረግ የሄደበት መንገድ በታሪክ ፊት ትልቅ ክህደት ሆኖ ተመዝግቧል።

እዚህ ላይ በግልጽ ሊሰመርበት የሚገባው ዋናው ነጥብ፦ የፅምዶን ደላሎች በስራቸው ማጋለጥ ሆነ መውቀስ ወይም የአማራ ፋኖን የትግል ጉዞ ብልሽት ማረም በጭራሽ የብፅግና አገዛዝን መደገፍ አይደለም! ሕዝቡ ይህ አገዛዝ ብቻ ሳይሆን ይህንን ስርዓት ኢትዮጵያውያን በሙሉ ሊታገሉት የሚገባ አጥፊ ሥርዓት መሆኑን ጠንቅቆ ያውቃል።

ነገር ግን የፅምዶ ደላሎችና የፖለቲካ ደናቁርት ስብስቦች በፈጠሩት ክህደት፣ ትርምስና የትግል ግርዶሽ ምክንያት፣ ሕዝቡ ሙሉ አቅሙን በአገዛዙ ላይ እንዳያሳርፍ እንቅፋት ሆነዋል። አገዛዙ የወሎ፣ የጎንደርም ሆነ የመላው አማራ ወዳጅ ሊሆን እንደማይችል ግልጽ ነው። ዛሬም እንደትናንቱ የሕዝቡ ብቸኛ ወዳጁ የራሱ አንድነታዊ አቅም፣ የራሱ ወታደራዊና ፖለቲካዊ ጥንካሬ ብቻ ነው! ከዚህ አገዛዝ ሰላምና ፍትሕ መጠበቅ መጨረሻው መጠፋፋት በመሆኑ፤ ሕዝቡ ከፊቱ የተደቀኑ ሁለቱንም አደጋዎች የሚያከሽፍበትን መንገድ «ድርብ መከላከል» መርህ ለመከተል የሰከነ ምልከታ ማድረግ ይኖርበታል።

●  አገዛዙን መመከት፦ በአማራ ሕዝብ ላይ የተደቀነውን መንግስታዊ ጥቃትና አምባገነንነት በራሱ ሉዓላዊና ገለልተኛ የመከላከል አቅምና መዋቅር ይመክታል፣ ይህንን ለማድረግ ከወዲሁ ከጠላት የፀዳ አማራዊ አደረጃጀትን የመመስረትና የማፅናት ሀላፊነት አለበት።

●  ደላሎችንና ቅጥረኞችን መከልከል፦ የሕዝቡን ፍትሐዊ ትግል ለሕወሓትና ለውጭ ኃይሎች የውክልና ጦርነት አጀንዳ አሳልፈው የሸጡትን የ«ፅምዶ/አፋብህን» ደላሎች በይፋ መቃወሙን እየገለፀ ይገኛል። ይህ የሚያሳዬው ቢያንስ አማራ በሚለው የወል ስሙ ከዚህ በላይ እንዲነገድበት አለመፍቀዱን ነው።

6. «ሕዝብ Dynamic ነው!» — እውነተኛው ፋኖ ሊወስደው የሚገባው አስቸኳይ እርምጃ

ሕዝብ ወይም ማህበረሰብ የማይቀየር ግዑዝ ሳይሆን፤ እንደ ሁኔታው፣ እንደ መረጃውና እንደ ድርጊቱ አስተሳሰቡን፣ አቋሙንና አሰላለፉን በየጊዜው የሚቀይር፣ የሚማርና የሚወስን ሕያው አካል ነው»። «ሕዝብ Dynamic ነው!» ሕዝብና ታጋዩ ወጣት በፖለቲከኞች ወይም በማህበራዊ ሚዲያ ደላሎች እንደፈለጉ የሚነዱ «ዕውር ተከታይ» (Blind Follower) አይደሉም! ሕዝብ የራሱ የሆነ የትግል መቁጠሪያ ካላንደር አለው፣ ብዙ የፖለቲካ መሪዎች፣ የፓርቲ ካድሬዎች ወይም የማህበራዊ ሚዲያ ተፅዕኖ ፈጣሪዎች (Influencers) ሕዝብን እንደፈለጉ የሚነዱት፣ ያመነውን ነገር ሁሉ አምኖ የሚቀበልና የያዘውን አቋም የማይቀይር «የዋህና ተከታይ» አድርገው ያስባሉ። ነገር ግን «ሕዝብ Dynamic ነው» ሲባል ሕዝብ የራሱ የሆነ የአስተውሎት፣ የትዝብትና የመመዘኛ ሚዛን አለው ማለት ነው። ዛሬ አንድን ኃይል ወይም መሪ ደግፎ አደባባይ ስለወጣ ብቻ ነገም ቢሆን ያንን አካል ይደግፋል ማለት አይደለም። ሕዝቡ በስሜት አይነዳም፤ የአንድ አካልን ስህተት ሲያይ ወደ ሌላኛው አረመኔያዊ አገዛዝ አቅፍ ውስጥ አይገባም። ይልቁንም ሁለቱንም አደጋዎች (የአገዛዙን አምባገነንነት እና የደላሎችን የሽብር/የቅጥረኝነት አጀንዳ) እኩል በመገምገም የራሱን ገለልተኛና ሉዓላዊ አቅም የመገንባት ጥበብን በሐይል ሚዛን ይተገብራል።

በመሆንም በዚህ ሰአት ግራ በመጋባት ገለልተኛ መሆን አይቻልም ቢያንስ ለሕዝብ የሚቆረቆሩና ለሕዝባቸው ክብር ያላቸው የአማራ ፋኖዎች ያጡትን ሕዝባዊ ድጋፍ መልሰው ለማግኘት ቢከብዳቸው እንኳን በቅኔ ብልፅግናን በመደገፍ የተነሳባቸውን ሕዝባዊ የተቃርኖ ቁጣ ማብረድ ግድ ይላቸዋል በመሆኑም በ«ፅምዶ» መረብ ውስጥ ያልገቡ እውነተኛ የፋኖ አካላት፣ መሪዎችና ታጋዮች የሚከተለውን አስቸኳይና አንገብጋቢ እርምጃ መውሰድ አለባቸው፦

1.  የሽብርተኝነት እንቅስቃሴንና የሽብር ፕሮፖጋንዳን በይፋ ማወገዝ፦ በስማችሁና በትግላችሁ ስም በማህበራዊ ሚዲያ በፅምዶ ዲጅታል ሰራዊት በደላሎች የሚደረጉ የሲቪል ተቋማትና የሕዝብ ሀብት የማውደም የሽብር ጥሪዎችን «የእኛን ፍትሐዊ ትግል አይወክሉም» በማለት በጥብቅ መግለጫ በይፋ አውግዙ!

2.  የትግሉን የሞራል ልዕልና ማስከበር፦ ትግላችሁ የተበደለውን ሕዝብና የሀገር ሀብት የማዳን እንጂ የሀገር ሀብት የማድቀቅና የሽብርተኝነት እንዳልሆነ ለዓለም አቀፉ ማህበረሰብና ለሕዝባችሁ በግልጽ አስታውቁ።

3.  «የድርብ መከላከል» (Double Defense) መስመርን መያዝ፦ አማራ በራሱ ፍትሐዊ መርህ፣ በጥብቅ ድርጅታዊ ዲሲፕሊንና በማዕከላዊ ዕዝ ሥር በመደራጀት ሁለቱንም አደጋዎች (የብልፅግናን አገዛዝ እና በትብብር ስም የፅምዶ ደላሎችን የውድመት/የሽብር አጀንዳ) እኩል የመመከት የጸና አቋም ያዙ!

ማጠቃለያ

የአማራ ሕዝብ ትግል እንደ ወንዝ ነው — ቆሻሻውን፣ የጠላት ቅጥረኞችን፣ የ«ፅምዶ» ደላሎችን፣ በስሙ የሚነግዱ ባንዳዎችን ሁሉንም ወደ ዳር ገፍትሮ ጥሎ፥ ትክክለኛ የአማራ መሰረታዊ ጥያቄዎችን አነግቦና ንጹሁን የነፃነት መስመር ይዞ ይጓዛል!

ዛሬ በወሎና በጎንደር የተስተዋለው ሕዝባዊ ቁጣና ማግለል በሌሎች የአማራ ከተሞችና በሌሎች ክልሎች እንደሚስፋፋ ሙሉ ለሙሉ እርግጠኛ መሆን ይቻላል። ይህ አጋጣሚ ለፅምዶ ደላሎች የተቃጣ የማይቀረው የስህተት ዋጋ ነው! ሕዝቡ ይዞት የሚወጣው የባነር መልዕክት ብልፅግና ለመደግፍ ሳይሆን የአፋብንን ክህደት ጉዞ ለመበቀል የተደረገ ቅኔያዊ ሰልፍ መሆኑን መረዳት ግድ ይላል።

በየጫካውና በየቀጠናው ያላችሁ እውነተኛ የፋኖ አርበኞች ሆይ፣ በስማችሁ ከሚደለቀው የሽብር ፕሮፖጋንዳ፣ የከሰረ መንገድና በስማችሁ የሚነገደውን የቀጠናው ሽብር ንግድ በቁጣ ሰብራችሁ በመውጣት፣ የትግላችሁን ሞራላዊና ሕጋዊ አሸናፊነት በፅናት አስክበሩ!

ድል ለአማራ ሕዝብ!

ፍትሕ፣ እኩልነትና ነፃነት ለኢትዮጵያ ሕዝብ!

The Ethiopian Tribune · Reflective Essay

Why Do Some Amhara Elites Collaborate Against Their Own People?

Political Opportunism, Elite Co-optation, and Political Self-Sabotage in Ethiopia

Professor Girma Berhanu

Department of Education and Special Education, University of Gothenburg

Abstract

Why do some Amhara political elites cooperate with authorities whose policies are perceived by many Amharas as threatening their collective interests and security? This paper examines elite collaboration in Ethiopia from the establishment of the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF)-led government in 1991 to the political transition following Abiy Ahmed’s rise to power in 2018 and the subsequent conflict in the Amhara region.

Drawing on scholarship on ethnic federalism and authoritarian governance, comparative political theory, and conversations with two former senior Amhara regional officials, the paper explores five explanations for elite collaboration: political and economic opportunism, elite co-optation, fear and coercion, ideological divergence, and the pursuit of political survival. It also examines the psychological mechanisms of obedience, conformity, and moral disengagement, alongside the historical and institutional conditions that may contribute to political fragmentation.

The paper asks whether recurring patterns of elite accommodation reflect individual choices, institutional incentives, historical experiences, or broader social and political dynamics. It rejects the assumption that collaboration demonstrates an inherent cultural disposition toward self-sabotage. Instead, it argues that elite behaviour must be understood through the interaction of personal interests, political institutions, social networks, and unequal power relations. Ultimately, the paper seeks to explain the apparent divergence between the priorities of some political elites and the security, rights, and aspirations of the communities they claim to represent.

1. Introduction: The Problem of Political Collaboration

Why do some Amhara political elites collaborate with political authorities whose actions are perceived by many Amharas as harmful to their community?

This question concerns the relationship between individual ambition, political power, collective identity, and public responsibility. It became particularly significant following the establishment of the EPRDF-led government in 1991 and the political transition associated with Abiy Ahmed’s rise to power in 2018.

The 1995 Constitution reorganised Ethiopia around ethnolinguistically defined regional states and recognised the self-determination rights of nations, nationalities, and peoples. Supporters viewed ethnic federalism as a means of addressing historical inequalities and accommodating diversity. Critics argued that it institutionalised ethnic divisions, weakened shared citizenship, and generated new forms of exclusion.

For many Amharas, concerns included political representation, territorial administration, and the security of Amhara communities living outside the Amhara regional state. Scholarship by Jon Abbink and Ketemaw Muluye provides useful starting points for examining these debates.

Expectations that the 2018 political transition would address longstanding grievances gradually gave way to renewed tensions between the federal government and Amhara political movements. In 2023, fighting escalated following the government’s decision to integrate regional special forces into the national security structure. Fano forces resisted this process, and the conflict intensified. The International Crisis Group and Human Rights Watch have documented the conflict’s political and humanitarian dimensions. The reported atrocities against civilians are deeply appalling and demand urgent international attention. Yet the scale of the humanitarian crisis affecting the Amhara population remains insufficiently recognised in international discourse. Reports that approximately six million children have been out of school over the past four years, alongside allegations of widespread discrimination against Amhara people, raise profound concerns about the protection of fundamental rights, access to education, and equal treatment. These claims warrant rigorous documentation and sustained international scrutiny.

This raises a fundamental moral question: how can individuals and institutions committed to human dignity, justice, and equality justify collaborating with political forces accused of contributing to the persecution and suffering of a vulnerable population? At a time when civilian protection and the prevention of mass atrocities should be paramount, silence, indifference, or uncritical collaboration risks undermining the very principles that international solidarity and human rights are meant to uphold. The suffering of the Amhara people deserves serious attention, impartial investigation, and recognition grounded in evidence—not neglect or selective concern.

Within this context, allegations that some Amhara political figures have cooperated with federal authorities against Fano or other Amhara political movements have generated intense controversy. Their motivations remain important questions for investigation. Do they seek personal advancement or material benefits? Are they motivated by fear, ideological conviction, or political survival? Do they believe accommodation offers a more effective route to peace and influence than resistance?

This paper examines these questions without assuming that every political alliance constitutes betrayal or that Amhara political opinion is uniform. Its central concern is why some elites accommodate powerful authorities even when their decisions may conflict with the interests of significant sections of the communities they represent.

The suffering of the Amhara people deserves serious attention, impartial investigation, and recognition grounded in evidence — not neglect or selective concern.

2. Historical and Institutional Context

The political order established after 1991 reshaped the incentives facing Ethiopia’s political elites. Regional institutions were organised substantially around ethnic identity, while the EPRDF maintained extensive influence over political competition and regional administrations.

As Abbink’s analysis suggests, ethnicity became central to political discourse and institutional practice. This arrangement sought to recognise historically marginalised identities but also generated disputes over representation, territorial boundaries, and competing conceptions of citizenship.

Critics of the federal system argue that Amharas were sometimes treated as representatives of historical domination rather than as a diverse population with distinct political interests and rights. Such claims require examination against constitutional provisions, historical records, and the experiences of affected communities. A balanced analysis must distinguish the stated objectives of ethnic federalism from its institutional operation and consequences. The transition of 2018 did not automatically eliminate established political networks, habits of governance, or patterns of elite accommodation. Yohannes Gedamu’s work on ethnic federalism and authoritarianism provides a framework for investigating how institutions and elite relationships can persist across changes in political leadership.

The relevant question is whether dependence on central authority, access to state resources, and restricted political competition create incentives for some Amhara elites to accommodate the government rather than challenge its policies. This possibility deserves systematic investigation rather than an assumption that collaboration reflects a distinctive cultural weakness.

3. Elite Co-optation and Political Opportunism

Elite co-optation occurs when powerful authorities incorporate influential individuals or groups into governing structures to secure cooperation, weaken opposition, or neutralise challenges to their power. The incentives may include public office, political recognition, access to resources, personal protection, and influence over local administration.

Under authoritarian or highly centralised political systems, accommodation may be individually advantageous even when it imposes costs on the wider community. Resistance can lead to imprisonment, dismissal, economic hardship, or physical danger, whereas cooperation may preserve an individual’s position and influence. Yet similar political behaviour can reflect different motivations: personal ambition, ideological conviction, strategic calculation, or fear and coercion.

This framework offers a useful analytical lens for examining political alignments in Ethiopia. Among the public figures whose political conduct and relationships with political power may warrant closer scrutiny are Professor Alemayehu G. Mariam, the late Professor Endrias Eshete, Professor Dagnachew Assefa, Deacon Daniel Kibret, Demeke Mekonnen, Dr. Degu Andargachew, Genet Zewdie, Dawit Yohannes, and former Fano leaders who have defected or surrendered to government forces. This list is not exhaustive, and space does not permit a discussion of all the individuals who might merit consideration.

These individuals occupy different positions and have distinct political histories. Their inclusion in this discussion should not be interpreted as a conclusion that they have all been co-opted by the authorities. Rather, each case requires independent and evidence-based examination of public statements, political appointments, relationships with government officials, and actions following changes in political allegiance. Such an approach is essential to distinguish documented conduct from political interpretation, speculation, or accusation.

Dr. Degu Andargachew, for example, is perceived by some observers as having sought to reconsider, or even atone for, aspects of his previous political conduct. This interpretation, however, should be assessed critically against his own public statements, documented actions, and subsequent political engagements. Ultimately, the objective should not be to condemn individuals on the basis of their affiliations alone, but to examine their conduct, the principles they uphold, and the consequences of their political choices for the pursuit of justice, accountability, and the protection of the Amhara population.

I find it difficult to reconcile what I perceive as instances of personal advancement taking precedence over collective political interests. Nevertheless, political disagreement or cooperation with the government does not, by itself, establish betrayal, opportunism, or personal enrichment. The task is to determine whether, and under what circumstances, elite co-optation helps explain particular political decisions.

Nor is my inquiry dependent on establishing the ethnic identity of every individual mentioned. I have not sought to verify anyone’s ancestry, nor do I regard ethnic identity as a prerequisite for analysing political conduct. My concern is with the broader dynamics of elite accommodation, political alignment, and the incentives shaping individual choices within Ethiopia’s political system. Ultimately, the central question is how personal ambition, political survival, institutional dependence, and access to state resources influence elite behaviour across successive administrations—and whether these incentives create a persistent gap between the interests of political elites and the communities they claim to represent.

A useful investigation would ask:

• What benefits, if any, followed an individual’s political realignment?
• Did the individual change their public position after entering government?
• Did their decisions weaken independent political organisation?
• What consequences did their actions have for the communities they claimed to represent?
• Did they remain accountable to those communities?

Political opportunism also extends beyond appointments. Material incentives may include access to public contracts, business opportunities, or preferential treatment. Establishing such connections requires documentary evidence, including procurement records, asset disclosures, and beneficial ownership information. Wealth or political association alone does not prove corruption.

Status and recognition can be equally influential. Former opposition figures may find renewed authority attractive after losing influence within their original movements. Conversely, defections and surrenders by Fano members may reflect military exhaustion, internal divisions, disillusionment, fear, strategic calculation, or genuine changes in political conviction.

The central analytical task is to distinguish these explanations rather than treating every change of allegiance as evidence of selfishness.

4. Fear, Coercion, and Political Survival

Political collaboration may also occur under conditions of coercion. Threats, detention, surveillance, intimidation, economic pressure, and risks to family members can limit an individual’s freedom to oppose those in power.

Human Rights Watch has documented serious abuses and restrictions affecting civilians and political actors in Ethiopia, including during the conflict in the Amhara region. This broader context makes coercion a relevant explanation, although it does not establish the motives of any particular individual.

Three overlapping categories can help clarify the issue:

1. Voluntary collaboration: Cooperation based primarily on personal interests, political convictions, or anticipated benefits.
2. Strategic accommodation: Cooperation based on the belief that resistance is ineffective, unsustainable, or likely to cause greater harm.
3. Coerced collaboration: Cooperation shaped primarily by credible threats or severely restricted choices.

These distinctions matter morally as well as analytically. An individual who cooperates under threat should not automatically be judged in the same way as someone who voluntarily exchanges political support for personal advancement. Without reliable evidence about individual circumstances, however, these explanations remain hypotheses rather than established conclusions.

5. Ideological Divergence and Elite Detachment

Shared ethnic identity does not guarantee shared political priorities. Some Amhara elites may prioritise national unity, constitutional continuity, or the avoidance of civil war, while others emphasise regional autonomy, protection from state violence, territorial claims, or support for armed resistance. For example, a politician opposing Fano may believe that armed struggle will prolong instability and endanger civilians. A supporter of Fano may argue that resistance is necessary because existing institutions have failed to provide security and accountability. Neither position, by itself, proves loyalty or betrayal.

A deeper problem emerges when political elites develop interests that diverge from those of the wider population. Their careers, security, economic opportunities, and influence may depend on institutions that ordinary people experience differently. Under such conditions, preserving elite access to power may take precedence over public accountability. This concern is particularly serious when Amhara communities experience violence, displacement, and insecurity while some of their political representatives appear more concerned with maintaining their positions than addressing those conditions.

Achille Mbembe’s concept of necropolitics offers a possible framework for examining how political power shapes whose lives are protected, whose populations are exposed to violence, and whose suffering receives inadequate recognition. Applied cautiously to Ethiopia, the framework could help investigate state protection, political vulnerability, and accountability during the Amhara conflict.

The key questions are whether political institutions adequately protect Amhara communities, how political elites respond to threats against their constituents, and whether their decisions reinforce or challenge existing patterns of vulnerability. Decades of political marginalisation and recurring violence have left many Amhara feeling increasingly insecure in their own ancestral homeland—as though they were “dead men walking” in a land to which they have deep historical ties. This situation raises difficult questions about the role of individuals of Amhara origin who, through their political affiliations, decisions, or actions, may have contributed to or legitimised conditions that perpetuate the vulnerability of their own communities. Addressing these questions requires careful examination of documented evidence, individual responsibility, and the distinction between political disagreement and complicity in practices that undermine the safety and dignity of a population.

Ian Buruma’s (2023) The Collaborators: Three Stories of Deception and Survival in World War II provides a valuable point of departure for exploring the complex moral and political dilemmas associated with collaboration under oppressive conditions. Through historical accounts of individuals navigating occupation, deception, and survival during the Second World War, Buruma invites readers to reflect on the often-blurred boundaries between accommodation, complicity, opportunism, and self-preservation. These dilemmas also resonate with contemporary Ethiopia, where the political conduct of individuals of Amhara origin who align themselves with state authorities merits critical and evidence-based examination.

Nevertheless, historical comparisons must be approached with caution. Political alignment alone does not establish complicity, just as opposition to a government does not automatically demonstrate moral integrity. Rather, the central questions concern individual agency, the constraints under which political choices are made, and the consequences of those choices for vulnerable communities. Of particular importance is the extent to which individuals enable, legitimise, resist, or challenge practices that threaten the security, dignity, and fundamental rights of their own communities. Ultimately, the issue is not simply whether individuals collaborate with those in power, but how their decisions should be understood in relation to political responsibility, moral accountability, and the protection of human life.

6. The Psychology of Collaboration

Political psychology offers additional explanations for why individuals may cooperate with authorities whose actions conflict with their stated moral commitments. Stanley Milgram’s research on obedience to authority, Solomon Asch’s experiments on conformity, and Albert Bandura’s theory of moral disengagement provide useful conceptual starting points. Although these studies cannot directly explain Ethiopian political behaviour, they identify mechanisms that merit investigation.

Obedience to authority. Individuals operating within hierarchical institutions may defer responsibility to superiors or justify their actions as official duties. Such reasoning can weaken their sense of personal responsibility for harmful consequences.

Conformity and group pressure. Political actors may align with colleagues, party leaders, or influential networks to preserve professional advancement, social belonging, or personal safety. Others may genuinely share the prevailing position, making it important to distinguish conformity from conviction.

Moral disengagement. Individuals may justify harmful conduct by presenting it as necessary, minimising its consequences, transferring responsibility to superiors, or portraying opponents as undeserving of protection. These mechanisms can operate among government officials, opposition leaders, armed groups, and their supporters.

These theories should generate research questions rather than serve as diagnoses of particular individuals. Establishing their relevance requires examining public statements, decision-making processes, institutional pressures, and the consequences of political choices.

7. Is Political Self-Sabotage Embedded in Amhara Culture?

Recurring political divisions may create the impression that self-sabotage is embedded in Amhara culture or collective psychology. Such a conclusion, however, risks confusing the behaviour of particular elites with the characteristics of an entire population. Political fragmentation, factionalism, and collaboration with powerful authorities occur across societies. Moreover, elite conduct is not necessarily representative of popular values. Where institutions reward accommodation and punish opposition, similar behaviour can recur without requiring an explanation based on an inherent cultural disposition.

Family histories and inherited political narratives may influence loyalties, social networks, and expectations of leadership. They do not establish that collaboration or moral weakness is biologically or culturally inherited. A more productive approach would investigate how historical experiences, institutional incentives, political networks, and social expectations shape elite behaviour. Relevant questions include how communities understand political loyalty, what consequences follow from opposing powerful authorities, and whether institutions reward accountability or personal access to state power.

My concern is not that Amharas possess an inherent tendency toward self-destruction, but that recurring patterns of elite accommodation and political fragmentation may undermine collective security and political representation. Explaining these patterns requires evidence about specific decisions and their consequences, not generalised judgments about a people’s character.

My concern is not that Amharas possess an inherent tendency toward self-destruction, but that recurring patterns of elite accommodation and political fragmentation may undermine collective security and political representation.

8. Conclusion

Why do some Amhara political elites collaborate with authorities whose policies are perceived by many Amharas as harmful to their collective interests? This paper identifies several plausible explanations: personal ambition, material incentives, elite co-optation, fear and coercion, ideological divergence, political survival, and psychological mechanisms such as obedience, conformity, and moral disengagement. These explanations are neither mutually exclusive nor equally applicable to every individual. Collaboration may represent opportunism in one case, coercion or strategic accommodation in another, and genuine political disagreement in a third. Distinguishing among these possibilities requires case-specific evidence and careful attention to the consequences of political decisions.

Drawing on scholarship, comparative perspectives, and conversations with two former senior Amhara regional officials, this paper proposes an institutional and historically grounded approach to understanding elite behaviour in Ethiopia. Its central argument is that recurring political fragmentation should not be attributed to an inherent cultural defect. Instead, it should be investigated through the interaction of political institutions, historical experiences, social networks, individual incentives, and unequal power relations.

Ultimately, the critical question is whether political elites remain accountable to the communities they claim to represent. Understanding why that accountability sometimes breaks down is essential to explaining elite collaboration and identifying the political conditions under which representation can better protect public security, rights, and collective interests.

References

Abbink, J. (2011). Ethnic-based federalism and ethnicity in Ethiopia: Reassessing the experiment after 20 years. *Journal of Eastern African

Studies, 5*(4), 596–618.

Asch, S. E. (1956). Studies of independence and conformity: I. A minority of one against a unanimous majority. *Psychological Monographs:

General and Applied, 70*(9), 1–70.

Asmamaw, B. T. (2026). Half a knife: An Amhara resistance writer’s reckoning. Baye Asmamaw.

Bandura, A. (1999). Moral disengagement in the perpetration of inhumanities. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 3(3), 193–209.

Buruma, I. (2023). The collaborators: Three stories of deception and survival in World War II. Atlantic Books.

Gedamu, Y. S. (2021). The politics of contemporary Ethiopia: Ethnic federalism and authoritarianism. Routledge.

Human Rights Watch. (2024). World report 2024: Ethiopia. https://www.hrw.org/world-report/2024/country-chapters/ethiopia

Human Rights Watch. (2024). “If the soldier dies, it’s on you”: Attacks on medical care in Ethiopia’s Amhara conflict. Human Rights Watch.

International Crisis Group. (2023, November 16). Ethiopia’s ominous new war in Amhara (Africa Briefing No. 194).

Milgram, S. (1974). Obedience to authority: An experimental view. Harper & Row.

Muluye, K. (2020). The formation of Ethiopia’s federation and its implications for the Amharas’ quest for recognition and boundary demarcations. Modern Africa: Politics, History and Society.

Mbembe, A. (2003). Necropolitics. Public Culture, 15(1), 11–40.

Olson, M. (1965). The logic of collective action: Public goods and the theory of groups. Harvard University Press.

Epilogue

The poem captures the tragic fate of a rural Ethiopian woman, particularly an Amhara woman, whose life is consumed by endless labour—from the strength of youth to the frailty of old age. She grinds grain day after day, sustaining others while her own dreams, dignity, and aspirations remain buried beneath the dust of the grinding stone.

Like Sisyphus, she is condemned to an endless cycle of toil, with no meaningful reward, no recognition, and little hope of escape. She does not even know the name of the prime minister, while political elites who claim to represent her rise to power, enjoy privilege, and live in luxury in her name. The distance between her suffering and their prosperity exposes a painful contradiction between political representation and the lived realities of ordinary people. Perhaps the poem’s most devastating revelation is that, while she spends her life grinding grain, time quietly grinds her down. By the time she looks into the mirror, she can no longer distinguish the flour in her hair from the gray of old age. She has spent a lifetime feeding others, only to discover that life itself has consumed her. And those who speak in her name have risen, while she remains where she has always been—beside the grinding stone, forgotten by the very world her labour sustains.

The epilogue is a reflection on Bewketu Seyoum’s Amharic poem “ስትፈጭ የኖረች ሴት” (“The Woman Who Spent Her Life Grinding”).

Professor Girma Berhanu is a professor in the Department of Education and Special Education at the University of Gothenburg and a regular contributor to The Ethiopian Tribune. The views expressed are the author’s own. Individuals named in this essay are invited to respond; replies will be considered for publication in full.

THE ETHIOPIAN TRIBUNE

Conclusion — A Mirror to the Nation

Past, Present and the Future

Unite and Reclaim the Sea, Secure the Dam, Fight Poverty Not Each Other

Mefkereseb G. Hailu (PhD) · Final article of the series

Editor’s Foreword

In March, Dr Mefkereseb G. Hailu opened his series in these pages with “The Spirit of Adwa” and a premise that has run through every article since: when a new generation speaks, a nation must listen. Seven months and fourteen articles later, he closes it with the longest and most ambitious piece we have published from him.

The length is deliberate. A conclusion has to gather fourteen arguments into one and answer the questions they left open. Readers who followed only part of the series will find the whole of it here: the Abraham Accords and the “permissive disorder” of the Red Sea, the June election, the racket of four estates, the drones over Amhara, the Oromummaa debate and the case for Assab. Each is set against what has happened since. Readers who followed all of it will find the author testing his own forecasts against the record, and changing his view where eight years of evidence have changed it.

When the powers of the region redraw the map around us, will Ethiopia be a party to the drawing or a line on someone else’s page?

Dr Hailu does not ask to be agreed with. He sets out what would prove him wrong and invites his critics to show it. Many will disagree, some fiercely. His inbox through this series is testimony enough to that. We publish him because the questions he asks are the ones Ethiopia cannot avoid: what holds a nation together, what the sea is worth, and what kind of constitution 130 million citizens deserve.

As with every contribution, the views expressed are the author’s own and not those of The Ethiopian Tribune. Replies are welcome, and we will publish the serious ones.

We thank Dr Hailu for the series, for his patience with our edits, and for the reminder in his covering letter that the time to mature as a nation is now.

— The Editor

Synopsis

The final article of the series asks one question: how does a nation of 130 million, at war with itself and cut off from the sea, stop fighting its past and start building its future? It answers in five parts.

Part I — The Fourteen Articles as a Mirror

The author restates the series as a single architecture: national unity and Red-Sea sovereignty as the foundations, broad-based development anchored in democracy as the means, and GERD as the engine. He checks the series’ spring forecasts against the autumn’s events — the Houthi hold on the Bab al-Mandeb, the rupture with Asmara, the seven-party Alliance for Survival and the New Alamein declaration on Red-Sea governance. He sets out the documented record of the Abiy years, traces how a narrative casting the Amhara as the nation’s offender passed from Cairo and the liberation fronts into the 1995 Constitution and has since turned on its authors, and examines FANO’s place inside the new alliance, proposing six commitments any coalition must meet before victory, not after.

Part II — Red-Sea Sovereignty and the Constitution

He reconstructs the legal chain by which Ethiopia lost its coast between 1991 and 2018, weighs the case for and against the claim to the Doumeira–Rehyto–Beilul–Tio Corridor, and states plainly where it is strong and where it is not. He sets out four courses open to the nation and their price. He then turns to the 1995 Constitution: why Article 39 cannot be amended away, three routes to a replacement, the guarantees a citizens’ constitution must offer every community, and eleven safeguards against a new tyranny of unity.

Part III — Democracy and Development

Sovereignty is not prosperity. Using a binding-constraints method, the author follows Ethiopia’s productive chain and identifies where it actually breaks: land tenure, the industrial parks, a dam with too little grid behind it, a tax take of around seven per cent, and a school system that enrols almost every child but teaches too few of them. Each is given a target, a timetable and a measure.

Part IV — The Obligation to Our Citizens

Thirteen obligations, and the order in which they must be met: peace at home and a new constitution first, the sea claim reserved and codified at once, and its recovery last.

Part V — The Responsibility of the Intellectuals

Drawing on Zera Yacob, Benda, Said, Sen and Locke, he calls Ethiopia’s educated class to peace, the rule of law and development, names the only two wars he believes an intellectual may defend, and closes with an appeal to the young Ethiopians who will inherit the outcome.