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.

RIGHT OF REPLY

The Luxury of Abstract Moralising in a Theatre of Existential Warfare: A Realist Critique of the ‘Collective Intelligence’ Thesis

By Mareshet Yimer Meshesha

Editor’s note: The Ethiopian Tribune publishes this response to Professor Girma Berhanu’s essay “Ethiopia’s Cycle of Self-Destruction: A Crisis of ‘Collective Intelligence’?” under its right of reply. The author writes in a personal capacity as a civic supporter of the Amhara Fano National Movement (AFNM). The views expressed are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of the Tribune. References are as supplied by the author. Professor Girma has been offered the opportunity to respond.

The contemporary political crisis in Ethiopia has generated a vast library of diaspora commentary, but few pieces encapsulate the profound limitations of detached academic analysis as clearly as Professor Girma Berhanu’s recent essay, “Ethiopia’s Cycle of Self-Destruction: A Crisis of ‘Collective Intelligence’?” Writing from an analytical distance, Professor Girma constructs an elegant framework attributing generations of engineered warfare, state-sponsored atrocities, and systemic regional destabilisation to a generic deficit of collective intelligence among the nation’s political elites. He defines this intelligence as the capacity of individuals and institutions to learn from historical experience, anticipate long-term consequences, and build sustainable structures for peaceful coexistence.

While this thesis is wrapped in the sophisticated vocabulary of civic moderation and liberal peacebuilding, it ultimately offers a simplistic and structurally blind diagnosis of a brutal, calculated conflict. To reduce a war of existential survival to an intellectual failure or a national learning disability is an act of profound reductionism. It treats the deliberate, weaponised operations of a predatory state apparatus as if they were merely an accidental breakdown of political reasoning.

A rigorous counter-analysis of this thesis reveals three fatal flaws that render abstract peace frameworks entirely useless when confronted with the material realities of asymmetric warfare.

1. The Fallacy of Structural “Both-Sidesism”

In its introductory foreword, The Ethiopian Tribune commends the essay for naming few names, arguing that this omission obliges every reader to apply the author’s diagnosis honestly to their own side before pointing to the failings of the other. While such an approach provides an appealing veneer of editorial neutrality, it functions in practice as a dangerous moral equaliser. By erasing the specific identities of the perpetrators, this framework creates a false equivalence between predatory state elites — who deploy heavy artillery, drone strikes, and state-backed ethnic cleansing against civilian populations — and the indigenous resistance forces, such as Fano, fighting against total erasure on the ground.

One cannot resolve a deep-seated structural quagmire by diagnosing the jailer and the prisoner, the perpetrator of massacres and the victims, the displacer and the displaced, the invader and the invaded, the oppressor and the oppressed with the same generalised intellectual deficit. The defensive mobilisation of the Amhara people was not a choice born of an inability to negotiate; it was an inevitable material reaction to decades of hostile ethno-linguistic cartography, the codification of their marginalisation in the 1995 constitution, and the forced annexation of ancestral lands like Wolkait-Tegede. To demand that a civic or an armed resistance movement share the blame for a war of self-defence under the guise of examining its own failings is a profound distortion of political reality.

2. War as an Operational Mechanism, Not an Institutional Failure

Professor Girma’s thesis assumes that the ruling elites in Addis Ababa continue to choose coercion because they fail to realise that the subjugation of one group breeds long-term insecurity for the entire country. This interpretation completely misreads the rational, predatory incentives of authoritarian state retention. The Prosperity Party regime does not suffer from a failure of political reasoning. It uses managed instability as its primary tool for its own survival and unbridled power.

Controlled chaos has allowed a centralised dictatorship to fracture cross-ethnic civil alliances, justify sweeping emergency decrees, and prevent a unified national civic consciousness from taking root. War, in this context, is not a breakdown of governance. It is the governance. The ruling elites are not acting out of ignorance or a lack of foresight. They are highly rational, short-term maximisers of power who understand that fracturing the populace ensures their own monopoly on violence. Treating a calculated strategy of state survival as a mere intellectual misunderstanding is a luxury only available to those who do not face the immediate threat of physical liquidation.

“War, in this context, is not a breakdown of governance. It is the governance.”

3. The Mirage of Paper Safeguards and the Lesson of August

The essay concludes with standard liberal prescriptions, arguing that durable peace requires institutions that protect political participation, safeguard fundamental rights, and provide credible mechanisms for resolving disputes. This argument enters a logical loop that ignores the fundamental premise of statecraft that institutions do not exist in a vacuum, and that they are maintained by a physical balance of power. One cannot build credible mechanisms when the adversary commands the military, special forces and militia, controls the treasury, the judiciary, and operates the drone fleets.

This analytical blindness was vividly illustrated in Professor Girma’s August 2026 article, “The Hardest Question: Why Are We Destroying Our Own?” In that reflection, the author offered a detailed ethnographic critique of media infighting, YouTube pile-ons, and character assassination among diaspora activists, lamenting it as a form of collective self-destruction that devours potential leaders. While those observations are accurate for toxic digital spaces, the fatal error lies in attempting to copy-paste the logic of internet drama onto a material, territorial armed conflict raging in large parts of Ethiopia.

History has already delivered its verdict on paper safeguards that lack ground-level enforceability. The Pretoria Agreement of 2022 did not collapse because of a psychological failure to cooperate; it collapsed because it was a soft contract that bypassed the structural realities of territorial justice and lacked any physical enforcement mechanism on the ground. Similarly, previous opposition movements like Kinjit in 2005 and Arbegnoch-Ginbot 7 in 2018 were systematically dismantled or disarmed precisely because they engaged in the fatal incrementalism of trading hard tactical leverage for vague, elite-driven promises of institutional reform.

The Realist Determination

Ethiopia’s interlocking crises will never be solved by elite seminars on collective intelligence or diaspora appeals for mutual empathy. True political intelligence is not the abstract desire for cooperation; it is the cultivation of independent material power capable of enforcing justice.

Peace is not the mere absence of tension. It is the presence of structural justice. True stabilisation will only emerge when a disciplined vanguard establishes an unassailable defensive shield across its core operational zones, secures its ancestral borders under permanent administration, and dictates the terms of a genuine national transition from a position of independent strength. Until the material balance of power is fundamentally altered on the ground, paper safeguards remain a mirage, and appeals for abstract peace will continue to ring hollow to those who are fighting simply to exist.

References

1. Atrocities and Summary Executions in Merawi (February 2024): Documented door-to-door summary executions of at least 45 Amhara civilians by Ethiopian state security forces following clashes with Fano. Source: Ethiopian Human Rights Commission (EHRC) Press Statement, February 2024; Amnesty International Report, “Ethiopia: Urgent Investigation Needed into Merawi Mass Executions,” February 2024.
2. Targeted Attacks and Massacres in Arsi Zone, Oromia (2023–2024): Systematically documented door-to-door targeted killings of Orthodox Christian and ethnic Amhara minorities by armed actors operating within regional structures. Source: Human Rights Watch World Report 2024 (Ethiopia Chapter); Amnesty International Briefing on Civilian Protection Failures in Oromia, late 2023.
3. Mass Incarceration and Forced Evictions in Benishangul-Gumuz and Addis Ababa Outskirts: Documented structural targeting and forced displacement of Amhara populations under the guise of law enforcement and corridor development. Source: Ethiopian Human Rights Council (EHRCO) 165th Special Report; Amnesty International Call to Halt Forced Evictions, 2024.

Mareshet Yimer Meshesha is an independent political analyst writing on Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa from a structural-realist perspective, with a focus on constitutional engineering and asymmetric conflict. He writes as a civic supporter of the Amhara Fano National Movement (AFNM) and is a member of civic groups concerned with the Amhara popular movement for self-defence and structural justice. He holds no official membership or role within the political or military structures of the AFNM.

Ethiopia’s Cycle of Self-Destruction: A Crisis of ‘Collective Intelligence’?

Professor Girma Berhanu

Editorial Foreword

There is a particular kind of grief that belongs to those who have watched the same tragedy unfold more than once. It is not only the grief of loss, but the grief of recognition: the knowledge that what is happening now has happened before, that its causes were visible, and that its costs were foreseeable. It is from within that grief that Professor Girma Berhanu writes.

The Tribune is pleased to publish his latest essay at a moment that hardly needs describing to our readers. With the Pretoria settlement in ruins and war returned to Tigray, with the insurgency in Amhara unresolved, with tensions rising along the Eritrean frontier, and with Sudan’s catastrophe burning to the west, Ethiopia once again finds itself counting the dead of a war it has fought, in one form or another, for most of living memory.

Professor Girma’s question is deceptively simple: why does a nation that has known the full cost of war keep choosing it? His answer declines the easy exits. He does not blame a single leader, a single movement or a single community, and he explicitly rejects the culturalist claim that Ethiopians are somehow predisposed to violence — an argument which, as he rightly observes, turns a contingent political failure into a supposedly permanent national characteristic. Instead he offers a different diagnostic lens: collective intelligence, the capacity of a political elite, and of the society from which it springs, to learn from experience, anticipate consequences, and convert that understanding into institutions that make coexistence possible.

It is a framing that carries the particular authority of a scholar whose own discipline is learning. Ethiopia, he insists, does not lack intelligent people. What it lacks is a political order that rewards foresight over cunning, negotiation over conquest, and long-term responsibility over short-term control.

“Ultimately, the measure of a nation’s intelligence is not how effectively it fights its enemies, but how wisely it prevents disagreements from becoming wars.”

Readers will notice that the essay names few names. This is deliberate, and it is both the essay’s strength and its challenge. By refusing to assign the cycle to any one administration or faction, Professor Girma obliges every reader to apply his diagnosis honestly to their own side before reaching for the failings of the other. That is no small demand in a political culture where, in his words, opponents are treated “as enemies to be eliminated rather than citizens with whom a common political future must be negotiated.”

The Tribune has long held that accountability and peace are not rival goods but conditions of one another. Professor Girma’s closing question — if Ethiopia cannot learn from the devastation of its past, what reason is there to believe its future will be any different? — ought to sit uncomfortably with every reader, in Addis Ababa and across the diaspora alike. We commend it to you.

— The Editor, The Ethiopian Tribune

Synopsis

In this essay, Professor Girma Berhanu asks why Ethiopia, after generations of war, famine and displacement, continues to reproduce the conditions of its own suffering. Setting aside explanations that rest on history, ethnicity or culture alone, he argues that the country’s recurring violence reflects a deeper deficit of “collective intelligence”: the failure of political elites, and the society that shapes them, to learn from experience, anticipate the consequences of their decisions, and build institutions capable of managing disagreement peacefully.

He traces how repression, exclusion and coercion — instruments of short-term control — manufacture the grievances that fuel the next conflict, and how a zero-sum political culture turns every contest for power into an existential struggle in which compromise is read as weakness. Military victory, he contends, may shift the balance of power, but it cannot settle competing historical narratives or confer legitimacy.

Turning to the present war in northern Ethiopia, he warns of its regional consequences and of inconsistent international attention, citing Sudan as a cautionary parallel, while insisting that foreign interference cannot absolve domestic actors of responsibility for their choices. He closes with four prescriptions: protected political participation; credible truth-seeking and accountability; negotiation as an ordinary instrument of politics rather than an admission of weakness; and a political culture that rewards long-term thinking over the mere acquisition of power.

✦✦✦

Ethiopia’s Cycle of Self-Destruction: A Crisis of ‘Collective Intelligence’?

By Professor Girma Berhanu

Why does a nation repeatedly resort to war despite having experienced its devastating consequences for generations? Is Ethiopia’s predicament rooted in its political traditions, historical grievances, cultural attitudes, or, more fundamentally, a failure of collective intelligence? By collective intelligence, I refer not to political intelligence in the narrow sense of strategic or tactical political acumen, but to the collective capacity of political elites to interpret information, integrate diverse perspectives, deliberate, and make decisions that shape political outcomes. This capacity must also be understood in relation to the broader population from which political elites emerge and with which they remain interconnected. The distinction is therefore analytical rather than absolute: political elites occupy specific positions of influence and decision-making, but their collective intelligence is shaped, directly and indirectly, by the knowledge, experiences, values, and aspirations of the wider society.

Ethiopia’s recurring cycles of war, famine, displacement, and human suffering raise a fundamental question: why does a country continue to reproduce the very conditions that have brought it so much misery? For decades, successive generations of Ethiopians have witnessed the destruction of lives, communities, and livelihoods, yet the country seems unable to escape the vicious cycle of violence. One conflict ends, another begins; one humanitarian catastrophe subsides, another emerges. The faces of the victims change, the political actors shift, and the justifications for violence evolve, but the underlying tragedy remains remarkably persistent.

Having witnessed this suffering throughout a significant part of my life, I find it increasingly difficult to understand why Ethiopia continues to pursue such a self-destructive path. I have seen friends, neighbours, and relatives suffer or lose their lives, either directly through armed conflict or indirectly through its devastating consequences. These experiences have convinced me that Ethiopia’s predicament cannot be explained simply by the existence of competing political interests or historical grievances. The more fundamental problem may be our collective inability to learn from experience, anticipate the consequences of our actions, and develop peaceful mechanisms for managing our differences.

My central argument is that Ethiopia’s recurring political violence reflects not merely a crisis of leadership or governance, but a profound deficit of collective intelligence: the failure of political elites and society at large to translate historical experience into a more peaceful and sustainable political order.

Beyond History and Political Tradition

There is no shortage of explanations for Ethiopia’s persistent conflicts. Some point to historical grievances, others to ethnic divisions, political exclusion, authoritarian traditions, or competition over power and resources. Still others attribute the problem to cultural attitudes that glorify military strength and view political compromise as weakness. These explanations have merit, but none is sufficient on its own.

Historical grievances, for instance, are real and cannot simply be dismissed. Communities carry memories of dispossession, marginalisation, political repression, and violence across generations. When such grievances remain unaddressed, they become sources of mistrust and resentment. However, history alone cannot explain why grievances repeatedly culminate in armed conflict rather than negotiated settlements. Many societies have experienced deeply traumatic histories without remaining permanently trapped in cycles of civil war.

The critical distinction, therefore, is between having historical grievances and being unable to resolve them peacefully. The former is a feature of Ethiopia’s complex past; the latter is a political failure. Similarly, cultural traditions and political attitudes may help explain why violence becomes normalised, but culture should not be treated as an immutable explanation for national tragedy. Ethiopians are not inherently predisposed to violence, nor is war an inevitable consequence of the country’s diversity. Such arguments risk turning a historically contingent political problem into an allegedly permanent national characteristic. The more useful question is how political institutions, leadership incentives, and prevailing attitudes interact to make violence more likely than compromise.

If the same destructive patterns persist across different governments and political generations, we must look beyond individual leaders and examine the structures and assumptions that reproduce these patterns.

The Failure to Anticipate Consequences

At the heart of Ethiopia’s recurring conflicts lies a striking failure to anticipate the consequences of political decisions.

I understand intelligence not simply as the possession of knowledge, academic ability, or political cunning, but as the capacity to anticipate the consequences of one's actions and adjust one's behaviour accordingly. By this definition, intelligence requires more than the ability to gain power or defeat an opponent. It requires an appreciation of how decisions made today shape the political, social, and economic realities of tomorrow.

Consider the repeated use of political repression, exclusion, and coercion to maintain control. Governments may initially perceive these measures as effective instruments of political survival. Suppressing dissent, marginalising particular communities, or forcibly displacing populations may temporarily weaken opposition and consolidate authority. Yet such measures also generate resentment, deepen social divisions, undermine institutional legitimacy, and create new grievances that may eventually fuel resistance. The apparent short-term benefits of repression can therefore produce devastating long-term consequences.

This is not a particularly complicated principle. A political system cannot indefinitely deny people meaningful participation, dignity, and security while expecting lasting stability in return. Nor can a government reasonably assume that communities subjected to injustice will remain permanently passive. Repression may silence grievances temporarily, but it rarely eliminates them.

The fundamental contradiction is that political actors often pursue immediate control through methods that undermine the long-term stability they claim to defend. This pattern raises an uncomfortable question: after decades of political upheaval, why have our leaders repeatedly failed to recognise that the subjugation of one group can become a source of insecurity for the entire country?

A failure to anticipate such consequences is not merely a leadership deficiency. It is a failure of political reasoning itself.

“The fundamental contradiction is that political actors often pursue immediate control through methods that undermine the long-term stability they claim to defend.”

Why Do We Keep Choosing War Over Negotiation?

The persistence of armed conflict also demands an examination of why peaceful alternatives repeatedly fail to take root.

Negotiation, compromise, and tolerance are often portrayed as signs of weakness in political environments shaped by mistrust and zero-sum competition. When political actors believe that losing power means losing their security, freedom, or even their lives, they have powerful incentives to resist compromise. Likewise, when communities believe that political defeat will expose them to domination or persecution, they may regard armed resistance as their only guarantee of survival.

Under such conditions, politics becomes an existential struggle. The objective is no longer simply to govern or influence public policy; it is to prevent the other side from gaining power.

This is one of the most destructive features of Ethiopia’s political predicament. When opponents are treated as enemies to be eliminated rather than citizens with whom a common political future must be negotiated, peaceful coexistence becomes increasingly difficult.

Yet this dynamic is not inevitable. It is reinforced by political institutions, leadership choices, and the absence of credible guarantees that disagreements can be resolved without violence.

A durable peace requires more than calls for unity or appeals to national solidarity. It requires institutions that protect political participation, safeguard fundamental rights, provide credible mechanisms for resolving disputes, and reassure competing groups that they need not resort to arms to secure their future.

Without these safeguards, appeals for peace can sound hollow, particularly to communities that have experienced repression or exclusion.

The argument, therefore, is not that Ethiopians simply need to become more tolerant. It is that tolerance must be translated into political arrangements that make coexistence both possible and worthwhile.

Collective Intelligence: Ethiopia’s Missing Political Resource

If historical grievances, political exclusion, and the struggle for power help explain Ethiopia’s recurring conflicts, the concept of collective intelligence may offer a broader framework for understanding why these problems remain unresolved. Collective intelligence is the capacity of individuals and institutions to combine knowledge, learn from experience, recognise shared interests, and make decisions that are wiser than those produced by isolated actors pursuing narrow objectives.

A society can contain highly educated individuals, sophisticated intellectual traditions, and politically astute leaders while still making collectively disastrous decisions. Individual intelligence does not automatically produce collective wisdom. Indeed, a political system can reward individuals for strategic brilliance while encouraging decisions that are harmful to society as a whole.

I hope readers understand that, when I use the term collective intelligence, I am referring specifically to the collective capacity of political elites to interpret information, deliberate, make decisions, and shape political outcomes. However, I do not intend to suggest that this intelligence exists independently of the broader society. The relationship between political elites and the masses is complex and reciprocal: although elites occupy positions of political influence and decision-making, they emerge from the wider population and are shaped by its knowledge, values, aspirations, and collective experiences. Thus, the distinction I draw is not between two entirely separate groups, but between different positions and roles within a broader social and political system.

A leader may be highly skilled at defeating political opponents but incapable of building a sustainable political settlement. A government may successfully suppress an insurgency in one region while creating conditions for future instability elsewhere. A political movement may achieve its immediate objectives while weakening the institutions necessary for long-term peace. In each case, narrow success becomes a source of broader failure.

Ethiopia’s challenge is therefore not necessarily an absence of intelligent people. It is the inability to organise political life in ways that reward foresight, cooperation, accountability, and learning. A society demonstrates collective intelligence when it can acknowledge the mistakes of the past without becoming paralysed by them, address historical injustices without reproducing new ones, and pursue competing interests without treating every disagreement as a justification for violence.

By contrast, a society that repeatedly revisits the same conflicts without developing more effective ways to resolve them displays a troubling inability to learn collectively. This distinction matters because it shifts the discussion away from blaming a particular ethnic group, political movement, or generation. It directs attention instead to the incentives, institutions, and political behaviours that allow destructive patterns to persist across different administrations and historical periods.

The central question becomes not whether Ethiopians are intelligent enough to understand their problems, but why their political systems have so often failed to convert that understanding into lasting solutions.

The Human Cost of Political Myopia

The consequences of this failure are measured not only in political instability but also in human suffering. War destroys more than lives and infrastructure. It tears apart families, disrupts education, undermines livelihoods, deepens poverty, and weakens the social relationships upon which communities depend. Displacement deprives people of their homes and livelihoods, while the fear and trauma generated by violence can endure long after the fighting subsides.

The economic costs are equally destructive. Resources that could support education, healthcare, infrastructure, and productive investment are diverted towards military expenditure and the management of humanitarian emergencies. Repeated conflict weakens public institutions, discourages investment, and makes economic recovery increasingly difficult. These consequences, in turn, create conditions that may contribute to further instability.

The result is a self-reinforcing cycle: conflict weakens institutions and livelihoods; weakened institutions struggle to manage political and economic pressures; unresolved grievances deepen mistrust; and mistrust makes future conflict more likely. What makes this cycle particularly tragic is that its consequences are neither mysterious nor unforeseeable. The relationship between political exclusion, repression, instability, and human suffering is evident enough that any serious assessment of Ethiopia’s past should take it into account.

And yet, political actors continue to behave as though military victory or the consolidation of power can provide permanent solutions to fundamentally political problems. They cannot. Military force may alter the balance of power, suppress an immediate challenge, or produce a temporary victory. It cannot, by itself, resolve competing historical narratives, establish political legitimacy, or create the trust necessary for peaceful coexistence. A victory that leaves the underlying grievances of a conflict unresolved may simply postpone the next confrontation.

A Neglected War and the Regional Consequences of Inaction

As I write this reflection, renewed or continuing conflict in northern Ethiopia raises once again the possibility of prolonged suffering and wider regional instability. The situation demands serious attention, not only because of the immediate humanitarian consequences but also because unresolved conflicts rarely remain confined to the communities in which they begin.

The risk of regional destabilisation makes it even more troubling when international attention is limited or inconsistent. The suffering of ordinary Ethiopians should not become less urgent simply because another crisis dominates the international agenda.

External actors also have a responsibility to examine the consequences of their involvement. Foreign governments and other powerful interests may pursue strategic, economic, or security objectives within the Horn of Africa. Their actions can influence the course of internal conflicts, sometimes reinforcing the incentives of domestic actors to continue fighting.

The experience of Sudan provides another stark reminder of how internal political struggles, armed competition, and external interests can interact to prolong devastation. Nevertheless, external interference should not become a convenient explanation for every Ethiopian failure. Domestic political actors retain responsibility for their own decisions. Foreign involvement may aggravate a conflict, but it does not erase the responsibility of those who choose repression, reject meaningful negotiations, or pursue political objectives through violence. Equally, international actors should recognise that prioritising short-term strategic interests over durable peace can have consequences far beyond the immediate conflict.

A more consistent international commitment to civilian protection, humanitarian access, accountability, and credible peace initiatives is essential. But lasting peace cannot simply be imported from abroad. It must also be built through political choices and institutional reforms within Ethiopia itself.

Breaking the Cycle Requires More Than Changing Leaders

If Ethiopia’s predicament is partly a crisis of collective intelligence, then replacing one leader with another will not, by itself, resolve the problem.

Leadership matters enormously, but the repeated recurrence of similar patterns suggests that the challenge is also institutional and societal. A political system that rewards coercion, concentrates power, discourages dissent, and treats compromise as defeat will continue to generate destructive outcomes, even when individual leaders change.

Breaking this cycle requires a fundamental shift in the conduct of politics.

First, political participation must be protected, and communities must have credible means of pursuing their interests without resorting to armed struggle. Political institutions must be sufficiently inclusive and accountable to ensure that losing a political contest does not mean losing one's basic rights or security.

Second, historical grievances must be addressed through credible processes of truth-seeking, accountability, reconciliation, and institutional reform. Peace cannot be built by demanding that victims simply forget their suffering. Nor can it be sustained by allowing historical injustices to justify new acts of collective punishment or revenge.

Third, negotiation must become an accepted instrument of political problem-solving rather than an admission of weakness. Compromise does not require abandoning fundamental principles. It requires recognising that a diverse society cannot be governed sustainably by imposing the will of one group upon all others.

Finally, Ethiopia needs a political culture that rewards long-term thinking. Political leaders should be judged not merely by their ability to acquire or retain power, but by their capacity to prevent conflict, strengthen institutions, protect citizens, and leave future generations with a more stable country. These changes are difficult, but the alternative is far more costly: the continued destruction of human lives and national potential in pursuit of political outcomes that remain inherently fragile.

Conclusion: How Much More Must We Suffer Before We Learn?

After decades of recurring violence, the most disturbing question is no longer simply why Ethiopia experiences war. It is why the lessons of war have failed to produce a more peaceful political order.

How many more lives must be lost before we recognise that no lasting national future can be built through the subjugation of one community by another? How many more generations must endure displacement, poverty, trauma, and the loss of loved ones before we acknowledge that military victory is not a substitute for political settlement? I find this recurring cycle of destruction both heartbreaking and intellectually perplexing. Ethiopia possesses a rich history, a remarkable cultural diversity, and enormous human potential. Yet these strengths cannot protect the country from the consequences of political choices that repeatedly undermine its stability.

The answer cannot be reduced to culture, historical grievances, political tradition, or individual leadership alone. These factors interact, but their destructive effects are amplified by the failure to learn collectively, anticipate consequences, and establish institutions capable of managing disagreement peacefully. Perhaps the deepest tragedy is that the consequences of our collective failures are borne disproportionately by ordinary people, while those who make consequential political decisions may remain insulated from much of the suffering they produce.

A nation that repeatedly sacrifices its people to resolve political disagreements must eventually confront the possibility that the problem lies not only in the disagreements themselves, but also in the way it chooses to resolve them.

For Ethiopia, the way forward requires more than a change of government, a new political slogan, or another promise of national unity. It requires a transformation in political reasoning: from domination to coexistence, from revenge to justice, from short-term calculations to long-term responsibility, and from narrow individual or group interests to a genuine commitment to the common good. Ultimately, the measure of a nation's intelligence is not how effectively it fights its enemies, but how wisely it prevents disagreements from becoming wars.

If Ethiopia cannot learn from the devastation of its past, what reason do we have to believe that its future will be any different?

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.

From the Editor

The Solvent and the Shore

An editorial foreword to Dr Mefkereseb G. Hailu’s “Medemer, Oromummaa and Red-Sea Sovereignty: Is Abiy Making Ethiopia an Island of Enemies?”

On 5 October the Prime Minister’s Office announced that the administration sworn in that morning would be known as the “Medemer Government”. Our contributor had already finished asking what Medemer is for. The coincidence is not his doing, but it tells the reader why this instalment matters: the word that names the government is the word this essay sets out to examine.

Dr Mefkereseb G. Hailu warned us, in the note that accompanied the manuscript, that his argument kept being overtaken by the news it was trying to describe. He was not exaggerating. Between the first draft and the last, war resumed in the north on 23 September; on 1 October Addis Ababa closed its embassy in Asmara, declared ten Eritrean diplomats persona non grata and expelled an Egyptian diplomat, and Asmara severed relations; Mekelle changed hands again; and on 4 October the leaders of Egypt, Eritrea, Somalia and Sudan met at New Alamein and declared the governance of the Red Sea the exclusive business of its littoral states. Every one of those events now sits inside the essay, and each strengthens the question in its title.

What distinguishes the piece is not its anger, which is considerable, but its method. Faced with the charge, now common across the opposition, that Medemer is the civic dress of an Oromummaa project, MGH does not chant it. He traces where the narrative came from, lays the case against the charge at full strength, and insists that the political entrepreneurs who trade in Oromummaa are not the Oromo people. Nor does he spare the history: on the authority of Oromo historians themselves, he names the sixteenth-century record of assimilation, domination and elimination for what it was, ethnocide, while refusing to make it an indictment of any people. He concludes that the remedy is the same whichever reading is right. His sharpest pages are on how this government actually works: a cabinet assembled for dependence rather than competence, a decision-making circle that appears on no organigram, and a Prime Minister who tells Parliament his own ministers have been under surveillance. His prescription is institutions first, with democracy as their capstone, and he spells it out in six commitments that no election could deliver on its own.

Changing the ruler changes a stone. Judge every proposal by one question: does it change the ingredients and the process, or only who stands at the fire?

Readers will find the second pillar, on the sea, the most consequential and the most contested. MGH argues that Ethiopia’s claim to the Doumeira–Rehyto–Beilul–Tio corridor rests on history and on a right never lawfully surrendered; that it expressly does not extend to Massawa; and that Eritrea’s continuing military presence on Ethiopian soil has already engaged Ethiopia’s right of self-defence under Article 51 of the UN Charter. From that he draws a sequence that ends, failing a treaty, in securing and incorporating the corridor. Many readers, Eritrean readers above all, will reject that conclusion, and international lawyers will dispute its premises. We publish it because it is argued rather than asserted, because it is sourced and bounded, and because the author himself names the precondition Ethiopia does not meet: a settled house. A state that moves without one, he writes, opens a fifth front rather than recovering a corridor. As always, the views are the author’s own, and our pages are open to a reasoned reply.

MGH writes that he can find only three explanations for a nation that quotes, as its operating manual, a constitution designed to divide it: that we are lying to ourselves, that we are deluded, or that we are quite mad. He will return next week with the fifteenth and final instalment of this series, which promises to gather the parts and set out what is to be done. We are grateful, once again, that he has chosen these pages to discharge what he calls the obligation of a citizen to say what he sees.

— The Editor, The Ethiopian Tribune

Synopsis

Medemer, Oromummaa and Red-Sea Sovereignty

Is Abiy Making Ethiopia an Island of Enemies? — Mefkereseb G. Hailu (PhD), October 2026

The question

The preceding instalment documented what Abiy Ahmed’s government does. This one asks what it is for, and what it has done to Ethiopia’s place in the world. The argument stands on two pillars that the author holds to be inseparable: national unity, which he argues the government has dismantled at home, and Red-Sea sovereignty, a just claim he argues it has squandered abroad. Measured against the four interests this series has defended throughout — national unity, Red-Sea sovereignty, development anchored in democracy, and the GERD as the engine of industrialisation — he finds the government has damaged every one.

The first pillar: Medemer, Oromummaa and the soul of the state

MGH sets out the unionist charge that Medemer’s civic language conceals an ethno-national project, then states the opposite case with equal force: Asafa Jalata and other Oromo nationalists regard Abiy as an enemy of Oromummaa, and his army has fought the OLA and bombed Oromo farmers since 2018. Both readings cannot be literally true. He is precise about his own position, which is neither. He does not say this government serves the Oromo people; he says it was built on one regional machine, governs through it, and is licensed by the Constitution. The common factor is personal power rather than an ethnic programme, and it hardly matters which reading wins, because an ethnic-based Constitution will reward whoever captures the centre.

His target, he insists, is a racket that farms in the name of a people, not the people in whose name it farms. Anyone who moves from “this machine governs through an Oromo political network” to “the Oromo are the problem” has, he writes, “abandoned the argument of this series and joined the other side of the racket”. The Oromo farmer bombed in Wollega stands on his side of that argument, not the government’s.

The political entrepreneurs who trade in Oromummaa are not the Oromo people, and the Oromo people are not their property.

That distinction is not, however, an absolution of history. MGH traces the making of Oromummaa through Asmarom Legesse’s anthropology of Gadaa and the popular narrative fixed by Tesfaye Gebreab’s fiction, and sets the benign textbook account of moggaasaa (adoption before the Abbaa Gadaa, protection for the weak) against the fuller record documented by Mohammed Hassen, the leading Oromo historian of the expansion. That record is “a sequence of assimilation, domination and elimination”. Those who submitted were adopted and then held as gabbaro, clients and serfs on land they had owned; Damot, Bizamo and Gafat were broken; the Gafat language is extinct; and the Gaturi survive “only as an entry in Mohammed Hassen’s pages”. His verdict is a single word: “That is not a migration. It is assimilation enforced by conquest, and the modern name for the deliberate extinction of peoples as peoples — language, lineage, memory — is ethnocide.”

What keeps this analysis rather than slander, he argues, is that it runs in both directions and ends in a remedy rather than a grievance. The same historian wrote of Conquest, Tyranny and Ethnocide against the Oromo; Mekuria Bulcha writes of genocidal violence in the making of the Ethiopian state. “Everybody’s ancestors are victims; everybody’s ancestors are perpetrators; and under this Constitution every one of those graves earns a dividend.” That dividend is the racket. His remedy is legal and prospective: that forced assimilation, ethnic cleansing and incitement to either be crimes “whoever commits them and whichever people they are committed against — the Gafat in the seventeenth century, the Amhara and Somali of Wollega in ours”. It is a law against conduct, not against Gadaa or any people’s heritage.

On Gadaa itself his position is one of symmetry. It is “heritage, not a constitution”, and it “belongs in the museum, the university and the community — not in the ministry”. A state of 130 million cannot be governed by age-sets any more than by the Fetha Nagast, and financing that pretence from the national budget is “as objectionable as the old state’s making one church and one language the condition of belonging”, just as treating the national flag as a provocation is. It is that symmetry which keeps the argument out of the ethnic quarrel altogether.

The most original section examines how the government works. The Prime Minister’s statement to Parliament that his ministers were under classified surveillance is read not as a quirk but as the signature of a structure: a cabinet that represents rather than governs, a shadow chain of command first built by the TPLF, and a ruler who must watch ministries that answer to someone else. The cabinet purge since 2019, he argues, selected for dependence rather than ethnicity or faith, removing everyone with a base from which to refuse. Hence his prescription: not “remove the man”, not “hold an election”, but institutions first, and he offers six commitments — a cabinet that is the government, a merit civil service, intelligence under statute, courts that can rule against the state, secure property, and independent numbers.

You cannot beat a man you have not studied.

An island of enemies

A table lists nine fronts open simultaneously as the article went to press, five of them armed and three turned into diplomatic ruptures within a week. MGH revisits his earlier essay on “chaotic equilibrium” and concludes that September and October 2026 have settled the question: the method did not master chaos, it manufactured it. A credible sea strategy, he argues, would have begun with a settlement at home and a published legal case; what exists instead is rhetoric that has turned a legitimate interest into a regional alarm. He offers, explicitly as inference rather than proof, the observation that this government has profited politically from every war it has fought while the nation has lost by each.

The second pillar: the legitimacy of Red-Sea sovereignty

The longest part of the essay sets out the historical record from Aksum to 1890 in two tables, and argues that the coast was lost in 1991–93 without the consent of the Ethiopian nation. It takes the Eritrean counter-case from its most serious authors, conceding Massawa outright and confining the claim to the Doumeira–Rehyto–Beilul–Tio corridor, with Assab at its centre. It then turns to security: the former Emirati base at Assab, the 2024 Asmara summit, and the El Alamein Joint Declaration of 4 October, which MGH calls the most important sentence written about the Red Sea in a decade because it defines Ethiopia out of the sea without ever naming it.

On the law, he argues that Eritrea’s continuing military presence on Ethiopian soil is an armed attack that has already engaged Article 51, that the proxy case must be argued second and proved with a published dossier, and that, failing a treaty, Ethiopia would be entitled to secure, hold and incorporate the corridor. He is equally clear that force confers no title, that Massawa is not claimed, and that one of six preconditions is unmet: a settled house. “Five of six is not a plan,” he writes; “it is a temptation.”

Resistance, objections and the conclusion

Invoking Adwa, MGH calls for resistance to the constitutional order rather than to any people, under three rules: national not ethnic, lawful and evidential, and siding with none of the ethnic entrepreneurs — a category in which he places Abiy, Zemene Kassie, Debretsion Gebremichael and Jal Marro alike. Arms, he insists, are reserved for the defence of the nation and its outlet to the sea, never against fellow Ethiopians. He then states seven objections at full strength, in his critics’ own voice — among them the charge that his analysis of Oromummaa is ethnic slander dressed as analysis, that Eritrean independence closed the matter, and that this is Amhara nationalism in a citizen’s vocabulary — concedes what is true in each, and answers the rest.

The conclusion meets the government’s economic defence on its own ground. The reform is real — the float, IMF and World Bank support, falling inflation — but the development is theatre: a birr that has lost three-fifths of its value, rising poverty, debt service more than three times the education budget, and corridor projects that evict without compensation. The deepest cost, he argues, appears on no ledger: the belief that an Ethiopian is an Ethiopian before he is anything else.

A nation can be invaded and remain itself. It cannot be taught that it never existed and remain itself.

The fifteenth and final instalment, to follow next week, will set out the road from here.

The full article, with its three tables and 111 references, follows below. ↓

Analysis

The Red Line That Moved

Abiy Ahmed says the ministers he dropped this week were under scrutiny for a year. The public record supports part of the case against them. What it does not yet show is a single referral to a prosecutor.

By E. Frashie ·October 2026

When Abiy Ahmed presented his first cabinet in April 2018, he drew a line. Graft and maladministration, he told lawmakers, were “a red line that has to be enforced.” Eight years and several reshuffles later, he returned to the House of Peoples’ Representatives on 8 October to begin his second full term with a new Council of Ministers, and with his own account of why some of the old one had gone.

The House approved the new cabinet unanimously: twenty-two ministers and a returning Deputy Prime Minister, Temesgen Tiruneh. Seven ministers kept their portfolios and ten newcomers joined. Among those who did not return were four whose departures now carry more than routine significance: Belete Molla at Innovation and Technology, Muferiat Kamil at Labour and Skills, Kassahun Gofe at Trade and Regional Integration, and Alemu Sime at Transport and Logistics.

The Prime Minister was unusually candid about how he had arrived at the list. “ሌብነትን በሚመለከት ሁሉም ሚኒስትሮች እና ሚኒስትር ዴኤታዎች ቢያንስ ላለፈው አንድ ዓመት ከፍተኛ ሚስጥራዊ ክትትል ሲደረግባቸው ነበር,” he told the House, according to the transcript published by Tikvah Ethiopia. On the matter of theft, every minister and state minister had been under top-secret surveillance for at least the past year. The monitoring, he said, was backed by intelligence and covered their activities at home and abroad, their children, their wives, their uncles and every wealthy person they dealt with. “The reshuffle,” he added, “was not done for nothing.”

Each minister was then made to defend himself against what was said about him, and the Prime Minister read the charges out as they had been put: you are suspected; you drink; you have improper ties with the rich; you scheme rather than support; you do not follow things up; you are never in the office. A minister need not be a thief himself, he said. Failing to control theft around him, ignoring tip-offs, or clinging to an attitude of “don’t come near me, don’t touch my area” had counted against him too.

Then came the most revealing passage of the session. Some of the complaints, he acknowledged, might have been nothing more than grievance or accusation, and in some cases sufficient evidence had not been found. “But those with any tendency of suspicion,” he said, “whether in themselves or around them, we did not make cabinet members.”

It was a remarkable admission, twice over. A head of government told Parliament that the state’s intelligence services had spent a year watching not only his ministers but their wives, their children and their uncles. On whose legal authority, under what oversight and with what safeguards that was done is a question in its own right, and one the House did not ask. And he conceded, in the same breath, that some of those left out were left out on suspicion where the evidence fell short.

He named none of the ministers who had failed. He did not need to. Within days, Meseret Media, citing government sources, had published a detailed account of the grounds for removing four of them, and it maps onto the Prime Minister’s own list almost point for point: improper ties to the rich, failure to police theft and, in one case, drinking.

The Tribune has tested Meseret’s claims against the public record. A consistent pattern emerges. In every case there is a documented failure that Parliament, the Auditor General or the press had already recorded. In every case, the alleged conduct that would turn a failure into a crime rests, for now, on unnamed sources. And in no case has any authority announced a charge.

The audit nobody prosecuted

The case against Belete Molla is the best documented. Parliament’s Standing Committee on Public Expenditure Management and Control found a budget gap of more than half a billion birr at his ministry, together with unauthorised reallocations, payments outside legal provisions and inflated salaries, and gave the ministry fifteen days to account for them. Belete conceded before the committee that audit deficiencies had occurred. The Federal Auditor General separately found that the ministry had completed only eleven per cent of its planned projects.

The ministry also administered the World Bank’s $200 million Digital Foundations project, and it is there that Meseret Media’s government sources place the gravest charges. According to Meseret, money from the facility was used to pay high monthly advisory fees, in dollars, to individuals whose qualifications bore no relation to the sector. It cites a veterinary doctor retained on an annual salary as a digital consultant, and another adviser paid $120,000 a year who, Meseret says, spent most of his time in the United States.

▶ Watch Meseret Media’s report on the Digital Foundations fees (from 08:07)

Meseret further reports that the ministry awarded a contract worth 21 million birr, without a tender, to a company whose owner had drawn public attention for importing a Tesla Cybertruck free of duty. None of these specific allegations has been publicly confirmed by the ministry, the World Bank or any investigating body, and the Tribune has not independently verified them. The audit findings, by contrast, have been public for months.

▶ Watch Meseret Media’s report on the 21 million birr contract (from 08:58)

The brokers’ bill

Under Muferiat Kamil, the Ministry of Labour and Skills drafted an overseas employment bill that would have required recruitment agencies to lodge bonds of between $50,000 and $250,000 in blocked accounts, prompting open resistance from the agencies’ own federation. A separate ministry directive confining agencies to four named banks was challenged as straying into territory reserved by law for the National Bank. In Parliament, one MP told the minister plainly that overseas employment was in crisis.

Meseret Media’s account goes considerably further. It reports that two senior officials serving under the minister, the chief executive of Foreign Employment, Ermias Tekle, and the head of the Labour Market Information System Project Office, Birhanu Adal, were arrested by security forces in connection with human trafficking. Meseret also describes the ministry’s draft proclamation as an attempt to make the ministry the sole registration body, reducing licensed agencies to brokers, and to double the mandatory agency bank guarantee from $100,000 to $200,000 under the ministry’s direct control. The Tribune has found no official confirmation of the arrests, and the published draft reported by Addis Fortune sets the bond on a sliding scale rather than at a single figure. If the arrests occurred, the public is entitled to know who was charged, with what, and in which court.

▶ Watch Meseret Media’s report on the proclamation (from 10:16) · the arrests (from 19:10)

A red line that ends at the door of the cabinet room is not a red line at all.

Plates from an unnamed supplier

Alemu Sime’s ministry oversaw the national switch to new vehicle licence plates. Motorists objected loudly to the price, with Addis Fortune reporting fees of around 56,000 birr at the capital’s licensing bureau. The ministry imported roughly four million plates from a Chinese manufacturer whose identity officials declined to disclose. According to Meseret Media, after the public outcry over the plates, intelligence services monitored possible direct ties between the minister and the foreign supplier. Meseret’s sources also accuse him of inappropriately close dealings with investors, alleging that he accepted holiday gifts of cattle from them and told them he expected a diplomatic posting to China. None of these claims has been confirmed, and the Tribune has not verified them. The refusal to name the supplier of four million state-mandated plates, by contrast, is a matter of record, and it should be answered whoever now holds the portfolio.

▶ Watch Meseret Media’s report on the investor ties and the plate supplier (from 17:23)

Queues, and the 658

Kassahun Gofe presided over a fuel market in chronic disorder. In December 2024, as queues stretched through Adama and Hawassa, he insisted there was no actual shortage of supply. By March this year, with Middle Eastern imports disrupted, his ministry reported that 658 people, officials among them, had been detained over illegal fuel trading. Meseret Media links him directly to the disruption. According to its sources, rather than allocating market share among distributors by logistical capacity, he favoured a single, less experienced company for personal gain, and the dispute grew heated enough to play out in front of the Prime Minister’s macroeconomic adviser, Girma Birru. Meseret also links a mid-June accident in Addis Ababa involving an excavator to widespread rumours of drinking, a point it ties to the Prime Minister’s own remarks about officials who drink. These allegations are unproven, and the Tribune has not verified them. But the contrast it draws is already on the record: hundreds detained at the pump, and no minister so much as questioned in public.

▶ Watch Meseret Media’s report on fuel distribution (from 06:22)

Removal is not accountability

The Prime Minister closed with a warning to the new cabinet. Its members, he said, had come through a month and a half of training and repeated examinations, sleeping no more than two or three hours a night, and what awaited them was “an era of suffering” in which sleep and idle joking would not be permitted. “ሥልጣን ኮፊያ እንጂ ጭንቅላት አይደለም,” he said: power is a hat, not the head. And the rule was simple: “Work, and if we do not work, leave.” It was meant as a show of resolve. It also marked the limit of his ambition. A hat is taken off; it is not put on trial. The sanction he named for failure, and for theft, was departure. He did not mention prosecution.

None of this establishes guilt, and this newspaper does not assert it. That is precisely the point. If the government has spent a year assembling evidence of embezzlement, procurement abuse and links to trafficking, that evidence belongs before the Attorney General and the Federal Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission, not in a parliamentary speech followed by briefings to friendly outlets. And where, as the Prime Minister himself conceded, the evidence fell short, a public account of misconduct by unmistakable implication is a verdict delivered without a trial.

Either way, due process is owed twice over: to the citizens whose money, fuel and livelihoods were at stake, and to the former ministers themselves, who are entitled to answer the case against them in a forum that can test it. A quiet reshuffle satisfies neither.

The Tribune is putting four questions to the Office of the Prime Minister, the Attorney General and the Federal Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission. Has any of the four former ministers been referred for investigation? Have the arrests at the Ministry of Labour and Skills been confirmed, and on what charges? Who manufactured the new licence plates, and under what contract? And what has become of the misspent sums identified at the Ministry of Innovation and Technology?

In 2018 the Prime Minister promised that corruption would not be tolerated. A promise of that kind is measured not by who leaves the cabinet, but by who is made to answer for what happened while they sat in it.

Right of reply: The Ethiopian Tribune invites Belete Molla, Muferiat Kamil, Kassahun Gofe and Alemu Sime to respond to the allegations reported by Meseret Media and referred to in this article. Any response received will be published in full and without editing.