ትንታኔ፦ የኢትዮጵያ ትሪቢዩን የፖለቲካ እና የኢኮኖሚ ጉዳዮች ክፍል

መጋቢት 16 ቀን 2018 ዓ.ም (ማርች 25፣ 2026)

በዓለም አቀፍ የቴክኖሎጂ ዘርፍ ከፍተኛ ድንጋጤን በፈጠረ ውሳኔ፣ በሎስ አንጀለስ የሚገኝ የዳኞች ቡድን በቴክኖሎጂ ግዙፎቹ ሜታ (Meta) እና ጎግል (Google) ላይ ከዚህ ቀደም ታይቶ የማይታወቅ የሽንፈት ውሳኔ አስተላልፏል። ይህ ብይን የማህበራዊ ሚዲያ ኩባንያዎች “ሆን ተብሎ ለተቀነባበረ የዲጂታል ሱሰኝነት” በሕግ ተጠያቂ የተደረጉበት የመጀመሪያው አጋጣሚ ነው። የሕግ ባለሙያዎች እንደሚሉት ከሆነ፣ ይህ ውሳኔ እንደ ኢትዮጵያ ባሉ በማደግ ላይ ባሉ አገራት የሚገኙ በሚሊዮን የሚቆጠሩ ወጣት ተጠቃሚዎችን ጨምሮ፣ መላውን የዲጂታል ዓለም ገጽታ መሠረታዊ በሆነ መልኩ ሊቀይረው ይችላል።

የፍርዱ ይዘት

ሳምንታት ለፈጀው ከፍተኛ የምስክርነት ቃል መስማት ሂደት በኋላ፣ የዳኞች ቡድኑ ሜታ (የኢንስታግራም፣ ፌስቡክ እና ዋትስአፕ እናት ኩባንያ) እና ጎግል (የዩቲዩብ ባለቤት) ሆን ብለው ተጠቃሚን ሱሰኛ የሚያደርጉ የመገናኛ መድረኮችን ቀርፀዋል የሚል መደምደሚያ ላይ ደርሷል። ዳኞቹ እነዚህ የዲጂታል መድረኮች አወቃቀር በሕግ ሰነዶች ላይ ‘ኬሊ’ ተብላ በተጠቀሰችው የ20 ዓመት ወጣት የአእምሮ ጤና ላይ ቀጥተኛ ጉዳት ማድረሳቸውን አረጋግጠዋል።

የከሳሿ የሕግ ባለሙያዎች እንደ “infinite scrolling” (ገደብ የለሽ የመረጃ ፍሰት) እና የፍላጎት ስልተ-ቀመሮች (algorithms) በአጋጣሚ የተፈጠሩ ሳይሆኑ፣ የሕፃናትን ደህንነት መሥዋዕት በማድረግ ተጠቃሚዎችን ለረጅም ሰዓት ለማቆየት ታስበው የተሰሩ መሆናቸውን በማስረጃ አቅርበው ተከራክረዋል።

የኩባንያዎቹ መከላከያ ውድቅ መደረግ

የሜታ ጠበቆች ጉዳዩን እንደ ግል ችግር በመፈረጅ ኩባንያውን ከተጠያቂነት ለማዳን ጥረት አድርገው ነበር። ኬሊ በግል ሕይወቷ መከራ ቢደርስባትም፣ ኢንስታግራምን መጠቀምዋ ለሥነ-ልቦና ቀውሷ መንስኤ እንዳልሆነ ወይም “ጉልህ አስተዋጽኦ” እንዳልነበረው ተከራክረዋል።

ሆኖም ዳኞቹ በዚህ መከላከያ አልተረቱም። ይልቁንም ኩባንያዎቹ ራሳቸው ያደረጓቸውን የውስጥ ጥናቶች ጨምሮ፣ እነዚህ መድረኮች ልክ እንደ ቁማር የአንጎልን የደስታ ስሜት (dopamine) ቀስቃሽ በሆነ መልኩ መገንባታቸውን የሚያሳዩ ማስረጃዎችን በመጥቀስ ውሳኔያቸውን አጽንተዋል።

በዛሬው ዕለት በዓለም አቀፍ የቴክኖሎጂ ኢንደስትሪ ላይ እንደ መብረቅ የተሰማው የሎስ አንጀለስ ፍርድ ቤት ውሳኔ፣ ሜታ እና ጎግልን ብቻ ሳይሆን እንደ ቲክቶክ (TikTok) ያሉ ሌሎች ግዙፍ መድረኮችንም ስጋት ላይ ጥሏል። የ20 ዓመቷን ኬሊን የካሳ ጥያቄ መሠረት በማድረግ የተሰጠው ይህ “ታሪካዊ” ብይን፣ የቴክኖሎጂ ኩባንያዎች ለተጠቃሚዎቻቸው የአእምሮ ጤና ያላቸውን የሕግ ተጠያቂነት አዲስ ምዕራፍ ከፍቷል።

የብይኑ መሠረት እና የቲክቶክ ስጋት
ምንም እንኳን የዚህኛው ክስ ትኩረት በሜታ (ኢንስታግራም) እና ጎግል (ዩቲዩብ) ላይ ቢሆንም፣ የፍርዱ መሠረታዊ ምክንያት ግን እንደ ቲክቶክ ያሉ መድረኮችን በቀጥታ የሚነካ ነው። ዳኞቹ ኩባንያዎቹን ጥፋተኛ ያደረጓቸው በሚከተሉት ነጥቦች ነው፦

የአልጎሪዝም አወቃቀር፦ ተጠቃሚው ሳያስበው ለሰዓታት እንዲቆይ የሚያደርጉ “ሱስ አስያዥ” ስልተ-ቀመሮች።ሆን ተብሎ የተሰሩ ዲዛይኖች፦ ልክ እንደ ቲክቶክ “For You Page” ሁሉ፣ ወጣቶችን ከእውነታው ዓለም የሚነጥሉ ማራኪ ግን ጎጂ ይዘቶችን የሚያስቀድሙ አሰራሮች።
የሕግ ባለሙያዎች እንደሚሉት፣ ቲክቶክ በአሁኑ ወቅት በአሜሪካ እና በአውሮፓ መሰል ክሶች እየቀረቡበት በመሆኑ፣ ይህ የሜታ እና ጎግል መሸነፍ ለቲክቶክም “የመጨረሻው ማስጠንቀቂያ” ተደርጎ ተወስዷል።

“የዲጂታል መድኃኒት” ተጠያቂነት

“ይህ ውሳኔ በኢትዮጵያ ያሉ ወላጆች እና ተቆጣጣሪ አካላት የማህበራዊ ሚዲያ አጠቃቀምን እንደ ቀላል መዝናኛ ብቻ ሳይሆን፣ ከፍተኛ ጥንቃቄ እንደሚሻ ‘ምርት’ እንዲመለከቱት ያደርጋል።”

የሜታ ጠበቆች “ኢንስታግራም ለኬሊ ችግር መንስኤ አይደለም” ብለው ቢከራከሩም፣ የሎስ አንጀለሱ ውሳኔ ግን የቴክኖሎጂው ዲዛይን ራሱ “መርዝ” ሊሆን እንደሚችል አረጋግጧል።

ቀጣዩ እርምጃ ምን ሊሆን ይችላል?
ይህ ብይን በመቶዎች ለሚቆጠሩ ተመሳሳይ ክሶች መንገድ ከፋች በመሆኑ፣ ወደፊት ኩባንያዎቹ የሚከተሉትን ለውጦች እንዲያደርጉ ሊገደዱ ይችላሉ፦

• ለታዳጊዎች የሚቀርቡ “ሱስ አስያዥ” ባህሪያትን መቀነስ።
• በየቀኑ የሚፈቀደውን የሰዓት ገደብ ማጥበቅ።
• ለደረሱ ጉዳቶች በቢሊዮን የሚቆጠር ዶላር ካሳ መክፈል።

በሎስ አንጀለስ ፍርድ ቤት በሜታ እና ጎግል ላይ የተሰጠው ውሳኔ ለኢትዮጵያ ትልቅ ደወል ነው። ሆኖም ለኢትዮጵያ ጉዳዩ ይበልጥ ውስብስብ የሚሆነው፣ እነዚህ “ሱስ አስያዥ” የተባሉ ቴክኖሎጂዎች በራሱ በመንግሥት እና በከፍተኛ አመራሮች ዘንድ እንደ ዋነኛ የሥራ እና የፕሮፓጋንዳ መሣሪያ በመወሰዳቸው ነው።

የመንግሥት “ዲጂታል አባዜ” እና የተጋላጭነት ስጋት

ጠቅላይ ሚኒስትር ዐቢይ አሕመድን ጨምሮ ከፍተኛ የመንግሥት ባለሥልጣናት አዳዲስ የቴክኖሎጂ ውጤቶችን (እንደ ቲክቶክ፣ ኤክስ እና ፌስቡክ) በከፍተኛ ሁኔታ መጠቀማቸው ይታወቃል። መንግሥት “ዲጂታል ኢትዮጵያ 2025” በሚል መሪ ቃል ዜጎች ወደ ቴክኖሎጂው እንዲገቡ እያበረታታ ባለበት በዚህ ወቅት፣ የቴክኖሎጂው “አዳኝ” (Predatory) ባህሪ ግን ችላ ተብሏል።

ተባባሪነት ወይስ አጠቃቀም?

መንግሥት እነዚህን መድረኮች ለፖለቲካዊ መልዕክት ማስተላለፊያነት ሲጠቀም፣ ሳያውቀው ወጣቱ ትውልድ በእነዚህ “ሱስ አስያዥ” ስልተ-ቀመሮች (Algorithms) ውስጥ እንዲዘፈቅ በር ይከፍታል። ይህም መንግሥትን የቴክኖሎጂ ኩባንያዎቹ “ያልተፈረመ ስምምነት” ተባባሪ ያደርገዋል።

የፖለቲካ ጉዳት፦ “የአልጎሪዝም ፖለቲካ” እና አለመረጋጋት
በአሜሪካ የተሰጠው ብይን እንደሚያሳየው፣ እነዚህ መድረኮች የተሰሩት ሰውን ስሜታዊ በማድረግ ረጅም ሰዓት እንዲቆይ ነው። በኢትዮጵያ ፖለቲካ ውስጥ ይህ ትልቅ አደጋ አለው፦

የሐሰት መረጃ መስፋፋት፦ ስልተ-ቀመሮቹ (Algorithms) ይበልጥ አነጋጋሪ እና ስሜት ቀስቃሽ የሆኑ የጥላቻ ንግግሮችን እና የሐሰት ወሬዎችን ለተጠቃሚው በማቅረብ ሱስ ያስይዛሉ። ይህ ደግሞ በኅብረተሰቡ ውስጥ ዋልታ ረገጥ ፖለቲካ እንዲነግሥ እና ብሔራዊ መግባባት እንዲጠፋ ያደርጋል።

የወጣቱ ትውልድ መደንዘዝ፦ ወጣቱ በቲክቶክ እና በፌስቡክ ሱስ ውስጥ ሲወድቅ፣ ለፖለቲካዊ ተሳትፎ እና ለሀገራዊ ጉዳዮች ያለው ንቁ ተሳትፎ እየቀነሰ ይሄዳል (Digital Narcissism)።

የኢኮኖሚ ጉዳት፦ ምርታማነት እና የውጭ ምንዛሬ ፍሰት
ከኢኮኖሚ አንጻር የማህበራዊ ሚዲያ ሱስ ለኢትዮጵያ ከፍተኛ ኪሳራ እያመጣ ነው፦

የምርታማነት መቀነስ፦ በሚሊዮን የሚቆጠሩ ወጣቶች እና የመንግሥት ሠራተኞች በሥራ ሰዓት በእነዚህ መድረኮች ላይ የሚያሳልፉት ሰዓት ለሀገር ውስጥ ምርት (GDP) እድገት ትልቅ እንቅፋት ነው።

የውጭ ምንዛሬ ፍሰት፦ ኢትዮጵያውያን በእነዚህ መድረኮች ላይ ማስታወቂያ ሲያወጡ ወይም የቲክቶክ “ስጦታዎችን” (Gifts) ሲለዋወጡ፣ በድብቅም ይሁን በግልጽ ከፍተኛ መጠን ያለው የውጭ ምንዛሬ ከሀገር ይወጣል። ኩባንያዎቹ (ሜታ፣ ጎግል፣ ቲክቶክ) በኢትዮጵያ ተጠቃሚዎች ቢከብሩም፣ ለሀገሪቱ የሚከፍሉት ግብር ወይም የሚያበረክቱት የኢኮኖሚ ድርሻ አነስተኛ ነው።

የሕግ ክፍተት፦ ተኩላው በበግ ለምድ
ኢትዮጵያ የ”ኮምፒውተር ወንጀል አዋጅ” እና የ”መገናኛ ብዙኃን አዋጅ” ቢኖራትም፣ እነዚህ ሕጎች በዋናነት የሚያተኩሩት ይዘት (Content) ላይ እንጂ በቴክኖሎጂ ኩባንያዎቹ “ሱስ አስያዥ ዲዛይን” ላይ አይደለም። መንግሥት የቴክኖሎጂዎቹ አድናቂ በመሆኑ፣ ኩባንያዎቹን በሕግ ከመጠየቅ ይልቅ “ለዲጂታል ዲፕሎማሲ” ቅድሚያ ይሰጣል።

የሎስ አንጀለሱ ብይን ለኢትዮጵያ የሚሰጠው ትምህርት ግልጽ ነው፤ ቴክኖሎጂን ማድነቅ እና መጠቀም አንድ ነገር ሲሆን፣ የቴክኖሎጂ ኩባንያዎች ዜጎችን (በተለይም ታዳጊዎችን) ለትርፍ ሲሉ ለሱስ እንዳይዳርጉ የመቆጣጠር ኃላፊነት ደግሞ ሌላ ነው። መንግሥት የቴክኖሎጂ አፍቃሪነቱን እና የቁጥጥር ኃላፊነቱን ማመጣጠን ካልቻለ፣ ውጤቱ “ዲጂታል ሱስ የተጠናወተው እና በፖለቲካ የተከፋፈለ” ትውልድ መፍጠር ይሆናል።

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By Professor Girma Berhanu

Introduction

The ongoing violence directed against Christian Amhara communities in the Arsi Zone raises serious concerns regarding the protection of vulnerable populations in Ethiopia. Recent reports indicate an intensification of targeted attacks, including killings, abductions, and the destruction of civilian property, particularly in districts such as Shirka, Guna, and Aseko. Investigations by the Ethiopian Human Rights Commission have documented incidents since late 2025 in which armed groups carried out attacks that resulted in deaths, injuries, and displacement of local residents, severely undermining the security and basic rights of affected communities.

These developments must be understood within the broader context of Ethiopia’s complex and evolving conflict dynamics. The Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights has documented widespread human rights violations in multiple regions of the country, including Oromia and Amhara. In 2023 alone, thousands of civilians were killed in violent incidents across these regions, while thousands were subjected to abuses such as arbitrary detention, torture, and forced displacement. Such patterns indicate that the current violence is not an isolated phenomenon but part of a broader cycle of armed conflict and intercommunal tensions orchestrated by the system.

Historically, Amhara communities living in parts of Oromia have periodically faced episodes of mass violence and forced displacement. Several documented incidents—including massacres targeting civilians identified as ethnically Amhara—illustrate the recurring nature of such attacks. One example occurred in 2020 in western Oromia, where hundreds of Amhara civilians were killed in an attack widely reported by international media and human rights observers. These events underscore the vulnerability of minority communities residing outside their region of ethnic majority.

In recent months, observers and human-rights organizations have expressed concern over what appears to be a renewed escalation in violence. Reports describe killings, kidnappings, and large-scale displacement in parts of Oromia, with civilians caught between insurgent groups, local militias, and government forces. The insurgency involving the Oromo Liberation Army has contributed to a deteriorating security environment in which civilians are frequently exposed to abuses by multiple actors. However, the group claimed the violence aimed to fracture collective opposition by pitting communities against one another, including along Oromo–Amhara and Christian–Muslim lines. The OLA further stated that “whether in uniform or without, whether carrying a gun or a pen,” any actor who “weaponizes innocent civilians for political ends” would be considered its enemy, adding that it would confront such forces decisively.

Despite the gravity of these developments, the international response has often been perceived as limited compared with the scale of the humanitarian and human rights concerns involved. Scholars and policy analysts have noted that Ethiopia’s overlapping conflicts—spanning regions such as Tigray, Amhara, and Oromia—have complicated international engagement and reduced sustained attention to localized patterns of violence against minority communities.

Given these conditions, the situation warrants sustained monitoring, systematic documentation, and deeper international engagement. Strengthening mechanisms for independent investigation, accountability, and civilian protection remains essential for mitigating further violence and ensuring that vulnerable communities are afforded the protections guaranteed under international human rights and humanitarian law.

Atrocities in Arsi: A Human Rights Crisis in Ethiopia’s Oromia Region

The country of Ethiopia has been engulfed in war, massacres, and displacement at an alarming rate since Prime Minister Abiy came to power. The victims are mostly Amharas, particularly those who belong to the Orthodox Church. Such incidents have become increasingly common in the Oromia region. The perpetrators are often described as state-sponsored paramilitary groups and the so-called OLF, with each side blaming the other. This situation has continued for approximately eight years. Millions of people have lost their lives, properties have been destroyed, and displacement has become a defining feature of the new Ethiopia. The crimes being committed against Ethiopia and the defenseless Amharas are unbelievably horrifying and multifaceted. Yet both national actors and the international community remain largely silent.

The current spree of massacres in Arsi is telling. It took now over 6 months unabated. Many known media and newspapers have reported the atrocities. A good gesture is that three major Ethiopian religious bodies condemned the killing of 21 civilians in Shirka Woreda, East Arsi, urging swift investigations, accountability and stronger protection to prevent further inter-religious tensions. The Permanent Synod of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, the Inter-Religious Council of Ethiopia, and the Ethiopian Islamic Affairs Supreme Council have each issued statements condemning the killing of 21 civilians in Shirka Woreda, East Arsi Zone of Oromia Region. They urged authorities to take immediate action to bring the perpetrators to justice and strengthen protection for residents. In their statements, the religious institutions denounced the attack and called for swift, transparent investigations, warning against attempts to exploit the incident to incite further violence. The known Borkena news outlet has reported the massacres continuously.

Violence in Arsi Zone and Competing Narratives

The Oromo Liberation Army has accused what it described as “mercenaries” of moving through the Arsi Zone and deliberately targeting Orthodox Christian civilians in order to inflame inter-religious and inter-ethnic tensions. The group has denied responsibility for attacks against civilians and instead alleged that unidentified armed actors are attempting to provoke conflict between communities.

In a statement dated 1 March 2026, the Permanent Synod of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church reported that it had received information from its dioceses indicating that at least 21 civilians were killed in an attack in East Arsi. According to the statement, several survivors were abducted and their whereabouts remain unknown, while homes and property belonging to more than ten households were burned. The Synod emphasized that the victims were Orthodox Christians with no involvement in any armed conflict and stated that perpetrators who invoke religion to justify violence do not represent the teachings of any faith tradition. It further warned that such attacks risk creating divisions among religious communities that have historically coexisted in relative harmony and called upon Muslim and Christian leaders to jointly condemn the violence.

The Ethiopian Islamic Affairs Supreme Council similarly expressed deep sorrow over the killings of what it described as innocent Orthodox Christian civilians in Shirka Woreda. In its statement, the council stressed that the attack does not represent any religious teaching and warned that such incidents threaten long-standing traditions of inter-religious coexistence and mutual respect. Independent reporting and advocacy sources have also highlighted the severity of the violence in the region. According to reports cited by the media outlet Borkena, districts including Shirka, Merti, Guna, and Holonto have experienced repeated attacks in which civilians were killed or injured, property was destroyed, and communities were displaced. These reports characterize the situation as a significant escalation of violence in the Arsi Zone.

The Ethiopian Human Rights Commission (EHRC) has documented a pattern of attacks affecting civilians in the area in its March 2026 reporting. According to the commission, recent incidents resulted in dozens of deaths, including multiple killings in Shirka and Merti districts, alongside cases of injury, abduction, and missing persons. The EHRC also noted broader patterns of insecurity in parts of Oromia since 2025, where recurring attacks on civilians have contributed to a wider humanitarian and human rights crisis. Eyewitness accounts collected by investigators and journalists describe highly coordinated attacks in which armed assailants targeted households and villages, leading to civilian deaths and widespread displacement. These testimonies indicate that communities have been subjected to intimidation, destruction of homes, and forced migration, contributing to a deteriorating humanitarian situation in the region.

At the same time, responsibility for the violence remains contested. Federal and regional authorities have repeatedly attributed many attacks to the Oromo Liberation Army, while the OLA has denied involvement and accused government forces or affiliated militias of staging or exploiting violence in order to justify security operations. This cycle of mutual accusations has complicated efforts to establish accountability and has hindered independent verification of events on the ground. The resulting climate of uncertainty underscores the need for impartial investigation. Without credible and transparent inquiries into the perpetrators of these attacks, the persistence of violence risks normalizing impunity and further undermining social cohesion in Ethiopia’s ethnically and religiously diverse society. Strengthening mechanisms for independent investigation, civilian protection, and accountability therefore remains critical to preventing further atrocities and restoring trust between communities.

Borkena. (2022, September 27). Ethiopia: Attack in Horo Guduru Wollega, Oromia region. https://borkena.com/2022/09/27/ethiopia-horo-guduru-wollega-oromo-region/

The ‘New Auschwitz’? Mass Violence and the Targeting of Civilians in Arsi Zone

Many years ago, I visited the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum, located on the grounds of the former Auschwitz concentration camp, the largest Nazi concentration and extermination camp during World War II. Several years later, I also visited a Jewish cultural center and museum in Riga, Latvia, which similarly commemorates the persecution and destruction of Jewish communities during the Holocaust. Today, Auschwitz-Birkenau and other Holocaust memorial institutions serve as powerful sites of remembrance, preserving the memory of immense human suffering and reminding visitors of the catastrophic consequences of hatred, discrimination, and systematic dehumanization.

The Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum provides a detailed historical account of the camp complex and the atrocities committed there. It stands as a solemn warning about what can occur when prejudice, exclusion, and ideological extremism are allowed to escalate unchecked. The enduring message of such memorials was eloquently articulated by Ellen Germain during the 75th anniversary of the museum on 13 July 2022. She emphasized the responsibility of future generations to safeguard historical truth:

“We must safeguard your testimony, their testimony, so that truth will never die. The world must never forget. The world must never deny. The world must never downplay the Holocaust. We must remain ever on guard, and we must do far more to teach the lessons of the Holocaust and apply them in our own time. We must counter hate and lies with tolerance and truth. And we must stand up for human dignity and freedom wherever they are imperiled.”

These reflections underline a critical principle: remembrance is not solely about honoring the victims of the past, but also about recognizing warning signs in the present. The lessons of the Holocaust compel societies to remain vigilant when patterns of discrimination, dehumanization, and targeted violence begin to emerge. When communities are singled out because of their identity—whether ethnic, religious, or cultural—the risk of escalating persecution becomes real.

It is within this broader moral and historical framework that contemporary reports of violence against civilians in the Arsi Zone must be considered. While historical contexts differ, the persistence of attacks against vulnerable populations raises urgent questions about protection, accountability, and the international community’s responsibility to respond when civilians become targets of systematic violence.

More than seventy-five years after the crematoria ceased their inhuman work, the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum continues to preserve the former camp complex as a permanent site of memory. The preservation of this Holocaust memorial serves an essential purpose: to help future generations understand the consequences of hatred, racism, and systematic violence, and to ensure that such atrocities are never repeated. The site also stands as enduring evidence against those who attempt to deny or distort the historical reality of the Holocaust.

Yet the lessons of these memorials are not confined to the past. The warning they convey—that societies must remain vigilant against hatred, persecution, and mass violence—remains deeply relevant today. Reports from several contemporary conflicts suggest that civilians continue to face grave abuses, including in the ongoing war in Ukraine and in parts of Ethiopia.

Particularly troubling are reports of attacks against civilians in the Arsi Zone of the Oromia Region. Accounts from religious institutions, local sources, and human-rights observers describe killings, abductions, and the destruction of homes affecting vulnerable communities. These reports raise serious concerns about the protection of civilians and the ability of affected populations to seek safety during episodes of violence. While historical contexts differ greatly from those of the Holocaust, the recurrence of violence against civilians underscores the enduring importance of remembering past atrocities and applying their lessons to contemporary crises. Memorials such as Auschwitz remind the world that indifference to suffering, denial of abuses, and failure to protect vulnerable populations can have devastating consequences. Ensuring accountability and safeguarding human dignity therefore remain essential responsibilities for governments, civil society, and the international community alike.

Violence, Silence, and Moral Responsibility

Reports emerging from parts of Oromia Region, particularly in areas such as Arsi Zone and Wollega, describe widespread violence against civilians, including killings, displacement, and the destruction of homes and livelihoods. Observers and advocacy groups have raised concerns that armed actors operating in the region have targeted vulnerable communities and that humanitarian access has at times been restricted, making independent verification and relief efforts extremely difficult. Allegations have also surfaced that bodies of victims have been burned and that attacks on civilians have been carried out with extreme brutality—imagery that evokes memories of some of the darkest chapters of twentieth-century violence.

This paper seeks to draw attention to what many observers describe as a deeply underreported humanitarian tragedy unfolding in these regions. While the historical contexts differ greatly from those of the Nazi concentration camps, the scale of civilian suffering and the persistence of violence raise urgent moral and political questions. Reports indicate that armed groups operating in the region, sometimes in environments where security institutions have failed to provide adequate protection, have created conditions in which communities live under constant fear of attack. As a result, thousands of civilians have reportedly been displaced and forced to flee their homes, creating a growing humanitarian crisis.

The failure of state institutions to adequately protect citizens exacerbates this tragedy. When attacks occur repeatedly without credible investigation or accountability, communities lose confidence in the ability of authorities to safeguard their security and basic rights. Observers have therefore called for independent investigations into allegations of mass killings, human rights abuses, and other violations in order to establish the facts and ensure that perpetrators are held accountable under the rule of law.

Ethiopia today faces immense human suffering and a profound national crisis. Many citizens feel that the country’s political future is increasingly shaped by competing ethno-nationalist movements and armed actors. In such an environment, atrocities—including killings, arrests, and the mistreatment of civilians—risk becoming normalized. The silence of political leaders, humanitarian actors, and international institutions in the face of such reports has raised troubling questions among many Ethiopians about whether the suffering of their communities is receiving adequate attention.

Religious and moral leaders may have an especially important role to play in such circumstances. Ethiopia is a deeply religious society in which spiritual institutions often serve as sources of moral guidance and social cohesion. Leaders from all faith traditions—Christian, Muslim, and indigenous spiritual traditions—can help promote reconciliation and emphasize the shared humanity of all Ethiopians. Their voices are particularly important in reminding communities that violence committed in the name of religion or ethnicity contradicts the ethical principles that faith traditions claim to uphold.

Periods of national crisis also highlight the importance of collective moral responsibility. Philosophical discussions of responsibility emphasize that institutions and leaders bear a duty to prevent harm when they possess the power to do so (Risser, 1996). Silence in the face of injustice can enable further abuses, while moral leadership can help mobilize societies toward peace and accountability. As the writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn warned in The Gulag Archipelago, ignoring evil allows it to grow and ultimately undermines the foundations of justice.

Understanding why societies sometimes fail to respond to mass atrocities has also been explored by scholars. Psychologist Paul Slovic describes the phenomenon of “psychic numbing,” in which large-scale human suffering paradoxically leads to reduced emotional engagement and weaker public action (Slovic, 2007). People often respond strongly to the suffering of a single identifiable victim, yet become increasingly indifferent when confronted with statistics describing thousands of victims. This dynamic may help explain why some humanitarian crises fail to receive sustained international attention.

Political scientists have also highlighted how ethnic identity can be mobilized by political elites in ways that intensify violence. According to James D. Fearon and David D. Laitin, ethnic violence is frequently linked to strategic political mobilization in which elites frame conflicts in ethnic terms in order to consolidate power or mobilize supporters (Fearon & Laitin, 2000). Such narratives can generate fear, deepen divisions, and ultimately legitimize violence against perceived out-groups.

These dynamics underscore the importance of resisting propaganda, rejecting narratives that dehumanize other communities, and reaffirming the shared dignity of all citizens. Throughout history, attempts to manipulate ethnic identity for political purposes have produced devastating consequences. Divide-and-rule strategies and discourses of ethnic superiority can create cycles of resentment and retaliation that undermine national cohesion and long-term stability.

Ethiopia’s future therefore depends on a renewed commitment to accountability, justice, and reconciliation. Independent investigations, protection of civilians, and responsible leadership are essential steps toward breaking cycles of violence. Equally important is the willingness of citizens, community leaders, and institutions to confront injustice openly and to reject the normalization of cruelty and hatred.

As writer E. A. Bucchianeri observed, “It’s not unpatriotic to denounce an injustice committed on our behalf; perhaps it’s the most patriotic thing we can do.” Speaking out against violence and defending the dignity of all human beings is not an act of division—it is a necessary foundation for a just and peaceful society.

In conclusion, I argue that the Abiy regime’s leadership incompetence, systemic cruelty, and moral vacuum have directly fueled Ethiopia’s current crises—the result of a leadership class lacking fundamental moral intelligence. Beheshtifar, Esmaeli, and Moghadam (2011) define moral intelligence as the “central intelligence for all humans,” distinct from both cognitive and emotional intelligence. Lennick and Kiel, the architects of this concept, identify its four pillars as integrity, responsibility, forgiveness, and compassion. Ethiopian ethnonationalists, particularly Oromo extremists, exhibit a profound deficit in these competencies—a legacy of moral decay inherited from their TPLF predecessors. For those lacking this essential intelligence, deception and malice become the standard, creating a pervasive political pathology that defines the current era.

References

Beheshtifar, M., Esmaeli, Z., & Moghadam, M. N. (2011). Effect of moral intelligence on leadership. European Journal of Economics, Finance and Administrative Sciences, 43, 6–11.

Cohen, S. (2013). States of denial: Knowing about atrocities and suffering. Polity Press.

Eurasia Review. (2021, May 16). The logic behind events in Ethiopia (Op-ed). https://www.eurasiareview.com/16052021-the-logic-behind-events-in-ethiopia-oped/

Eurasia Review. (2022, April 13). Victims and victimization in Ethiopian politics: Targeting the Amhara on three fronts (Op-ed). https://www.eurasiareview.com/13042022-victims-and-victimization-in-ethiopian-politics-targeting-the-amhara-on-three-fronts-oped/

Eurasia Review. (2022, July 26). Oromummaa unchained: Ethnic apartheid and territorial expansion in Ethiopia (Op-ed). https://www.eurasiareview.com/26072022-oromummaa-unchained-ethnic-apartheid-and-territorial-expansion-in-ethiopia-oped/

Fearon, J. D., & Laitin, D. D. (2000). Violence and the social construction of ethnic identity. International Organization, 54(4), 845–877.

Lind, G. (2008). The meaning and measurement of moral judgment competence: A dual-aspect model. In D. Fasko Jr. & W. Willis (Eds.), Contemporary philosophical and psychological perspectives on moral development and education (pp. 185–220). Hampton Press.

Risser, D. T. (1978). Power and collective responsibility. Kinesis, 9(1), 23–33.

Risser, D. T. (1996). The social dimension of moral responsibility: Taking organizations seriously. Journal of Social Philosophy, 27(1), 189–207.

Slovic, P. (2007). “If I look at the mass I will never act”: Psychic numbing and genocide. Judgment and Decision Making, 2(2), 79–95.

The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. (n.d.). Collective moral responsibility. http://www.iep.utm.edu/collecti/

The New Yorker. (2022, October 3). Did a Nobel Peace Laureate stoke a civil war? https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/10/03/did-a-nobel-peace-laureate-stoke-a-civil-war

The Washington Post. (2022, July 18). Ethiopian genocide commands attention. https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2022/07/18/ethiopian-genocide-commands-attention/

White, J. R. (2005). Auschwitz: A new history. History: Reviews of New Books, 34(1), 19. https://doi.org/10.1080/03612759.2005.10526737

The views, arguments, and conclusions expressed in this article are solely those of the author, Professor Girma Berhanu, and do not represent the editorial position of the Ethiopian Tribune. Readers are encouraged to consult multiple sources when forming their own judgments on the complex and evolving situation described.

Contact information:

Girma Berhanu

Department of Education and Special Education (Professor) University of Gothenburg

Box 300, SE 405 30

Göteborg, Sweden

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By Endex The Ethiopian Tribune editor in chief

Opinion & Analysis

There is a particular kind of arrogance embedded in the way certain international media institutions cover Africa. It is not always the arrogance of open hostility that would at least be straightforward to contest. It is, rather, the arrogance of the editorial template: the quiet, institutional assumption that a continent of fifty-four nations and a billion-plus souls can be adequately explained through a rotating cast of familiar imagery famine, fragmentation, and failure. Ethiopia has endured this treatment for decades. What demands urgent examination today is not merely that it persists, but who is perpetuating it, why, and what Ethiopia ought to do in response.
Al Jazeera, the Doha-based broadcaster funded by the Qatari state, has positioned itself globally as the voice of the underdog, the challenger of Western media hegemony, the outlet that speaks truth to power. It is a seductive proposition, and in certain contexts, notably its early coverage of the Arab Spring, it was not without merit. Yet when the camera turns toward Ethiopia, something rather revealing happens to that self-proclaimed editorial conscience. The underdog disappears. The complexity vanishes. What remains is a country rendered perpetually crisis-ridden, politically naïve, and diplomatically inconsequential.
This is not an accident. It is a pattern, and patterns in journalism are never merely stylistic.

The Architecture of a Double Standard
Academic scrutiny of Al Jazeera’s reporting on the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD) has produced findings that should embarrass any institution claiming journalistic neutrality. Research by Aqalh and Abdul-Nabi (2026) demonstrates that the network’s coverage systematically “privileges Egyptian existential narratives whilst minimising Ethiopian developmental claims.” Abebe, Tilahun, and Belay (2024) reach a complementary conclusion, finding that Al Jazeera “foregrounds conflict frames at the expense of cooperative or technical frames” when reporting the Ethio-Egyptian dispute. Nigatu and Lidetie (2025) are yet more direct, arguing that “the discursive privileging of Egyptian claims reflects broader regional power dynamics rather than journalistic neutrality.”
Let us be plain about what this means. When Ethiopia constructs a dam on the Blue Nile, a sovereign infrastructure project on its own territory, financed by its own citizens through bond purchases, designed to lift tens of millions out of energy poverty, Al Jazeera frames this as aggression. When Egypt invokes the language of existential threat to describe a dam it has no legal authority to veto, Al Jazeera amplifies that framing with minimal interrogation. The asymmetry is not subtle, and it is not neutral. It is, to borrow a phrase the network itself would deploy without hesitation in other contexts, state-serving propaganda dressed in the clothing of public interest journalism.
This double standard becomes yet more conspicuous when Al Jazeera trains its editorial eye upon Ethiopian journalists and social media influencers allegedly paid to promote Israeli narratives without disclosure. The ethical failures in question are genuine. Undisclosed sponsored travel is a serious breach of journalistic integrity, and it warrants honest, vigorous accountability. But Al Jazeera’s framing of these individual cases does not stop at ethical critique. It extrapolates, implying a broader Ethiopian susceptibility to manipulation, a national gullibility, as though the misconduct of a handful of individuals reveals something essentially true and damning about Ethiopia as a political society. One struggles to recall Al Jazeera applying the same extrapolative logic to, say, British journalists compromised by government access, or American commentators embedded with Gulf state public relations operations. The standard, it seems, applies selectively, and the selection tells us a great deal.

The Geopolitics Beneath the Editorial Line
Al Jazeera’s coverage of Ethiopia cannot be understood without understanding Qatar. The network is not an independent editorial enterprise in the manner it presents itself; it is a state-funded broadcaster whose editorial orientations are inevitably shaped by Qatari foreign policy priorities. Qatar has significant strategic interests in the Horn of Africa. It has mediated, with mixed results and considerable self-interest, in various regional disputes. Its relationships with Egypt, with various Islamist political movements, and with competing Gulf powers all create a web of geopolitical incentives that bear directly upon how its flagship broadcaster chooses to cover a country like Ethiopia.
When Al Jazeera foregrounds Ethiopian instability, it is not simply making an editorial judgement about newsworthiness. It is whether consciously or through the more insidious mechanism of institutionalised editorial culture, producing a representation of Ethiopia that serves certain regional actors and their preferred narratives. A fractious, fragile, easily-manipulated Ethiopia is convenient for those who wish to portray the GERD as reckless rather than visionary, who wish to frame Ethiopian foreign policy as reactive rather than strategic, who wish, in short, to diminish Ethiopia’s standing in a region where it remains, despite everything, the most populous nation and the diplomatic anchor of the African Union.
This is media as geopolitical instrument. It deserves to be named as such.

The History That Dare Not Speak Its Name

Perhaps the most intellectually dishonest feature of Al Jazeera’s recent Ethiopia coverage is what it refuses to remember. Ethiopia is home to one of Africa’s largest refugee populations — not as a transit country, but as a host. Hundreds of thousands of displaced people from Somalia, Eritrea, Sudan, South Sudan, Syria, and Yemen have found sanctuary on Ethiopian soil. Syrians who fled the catastrophic civil war that Al Jazeera covered with such sustained passion built lives in Addis Ababa, opened businesses, integrated into communities welcomed, for the most part, without the violent xenophobia that has disfigured the response of certain wealthier nations considerably better placed to absorb displacement. This is an extraordinary humanitarian record. Al Jazeera, so reliably attentive to refugee suffering when it serves a particular narrative, has shown remarkably little interest in it here.
More glaring still is the erasure of Ethiopia’s history with Palestine. Ethiopia was among the earliest African nations to extend formal support to the Palestinian Liberation Organisation. Yasir Arafat addressed African leaders at the Organisation of African Unity in Addis Ababa; Ethiopia voted consistently in multilateral forums for Palestinian self-determination; Ethiopian diplomacy maintained active solidarity with Palestinian representatives at a time when such solidarity carried genuine political cost. This is not contested history. It is documented, verifiable, and, one might think, precisely the kind of historical context that a broadcaster claiming to champion the Palestinian cause would consider relevant when reporting on Ethiopian figures accused of normalisation.
The omission is not an oversight. Omissions of this magnitude are editorial choices, and editorial choices have politics. By stripping this history from its coverage, Al Jazeera constructs an Ethiopia that appears opportunistic, indifferent, or simply ignorant, when the historical record suggests something rather different. It is a fabrication by deletion, and it is no less dishonest for being achieved through silence rather than falsehood.

The Weaponisation of Ethical Critique
It would be foolish to dismiss the ethical questions surrounding undisclosed sponsored content. Ethiopian journalists, influencers, and public figures who accepted Israeli government-linked hospitality without transparency owe their audiences an explanation, and the institutions responsible for upholding professional standards in Ethiopian media must take this seriously. There is real work to be done here, and it must be done by Ethiopians critically, rigorously, and without defensiveness.
But Al Jazeera’s intervention in this conversation is not a contribution to that work. It is an exploitation of it. By transforming individual ethical failures into evidence of systemic national vulnerability, the network performs a rhetorical manoeuvre with which African countries are depressingly familiar: the individualisation of misconduct when the individual is sympathetic, and the nationalisation of misconduct when the nation is a useful target. The miscreant becomes the country; the country becomes the cautionary tale; and Al Jazeera, whose own editorial record includes systematic bias in its coverage of Qatar’s regional rivals, Egypt’s political upheavals, and the Syrian catastrophe, positions itself as moral arbiter.
This is audacity of a remarkable order. It ought to be said so, plainly and in public.

Reclaiming the Story
None of this analysis should be mistaken for an argument that Ethiopia’s image problems are entirely externally manufactured. There are genuine governance challenges, genuine humanitarian crises, genuine failures of accountability that Ethiopian citizens, including this columnist, have every right and obligation to scrutinise honestly. The integrity of Ethiopian public discourse depends upon exactly that kind of internal accountability. Narrative sovereignty is not a licence for self-flattery.
But there is a meaningful difference between honest internal critique and the systematic, geopolitically-motivated distortion of a country’s image by a foreign state broadcaster with its own interests to protect. Ethiopia is entitled to contest the latter even whilst engaging in the former. Indeed, the two are inseparable: a society confident enough in its own critical institutions is far better equipped to push back against external misrepresentation precisely because it has already done the harder work of honest self-examination.
What is required, practically, is investment in Ethiopian media institutions of genuine independence, in scholarly work that produces the kind of evidence-based counter-analysis demonstrated by researchers at Addis Ababa University and Jimma University, in diplomatic and cultural channels that carry Ethiopian perspectives into international conversations without waiting for the permission of hostile intermediaries. The work of Abebe, Tilahun, and Belay (2024), of Nigatu and Lidetie (2025), of Ayalew (2021) — this is exactly the kind of intellectual infrastructure upon which narrative sovereignty is built. It needs to be resourced, disseminated, and taken seriously by Ethiopian institutions at every level.

A Final Remark
Al Jazeera will, in all probability, continue to cover Ethiopia through the lens of crisis, conflict, and selective moral outrage. The incentives that produce such coverage have not changed. What can change is Ethiopia’s posture in relation to it , from passive subject to active interlocutor, from recipient of external narratives to producer of its own.
Ethiopia’s story, its complexity, its resilience, its genuinely extraordinary diplomatic and humanitarian record, is too important to be left to those with every reason to tell it badly.
It is time to tell it ourselves.

——————-//——————-

References
Abebe, T., Tilahun, M. & Belay, S. (2024) Media Framing of the Ethio-Egyptian Dispute over the First Round Water Filling of GERD: ETV and Al Jazeera in Focus. Addis Ababa University Press.

Aqalh, A. & Abdul-Nabi, M. (2026) Framing of Ethiopia–Egypt Dam Conflict: A Comparative Analysis of Al-Jazeera and Al-Arabiya. Emerald Publishing. DOI: 10.1108/978-1-80592-949-920261005.

Ayalew, M. (2021) Framing of the Ethio-Egypt Conflict on GERD’s Water Filling: ETV and Al-Jazeera in Focus. MA Thesis, Jimma University.

Nigatu, M. & Lidetie, A. (2025) ‘Sovereignty vs Survival: A Critical Discourse Analysis of BBC and Al-Jazeera’s Reporting on GERD Negotiations’, Cogent Arts & Humanities, 12(1). DOI: 10.1080/23311983.2025.2451486.

Ojola, D. (2025) Framing Analysis of BBC and Al Jazeera Coverage of the Ethiopia–Somaliland MoU. University of Helsinki.

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Memory, Martyrdom and the Mirage of the New Dubai

By Endex Ethiopian Tribune Chief Editor

A Date That Refuses to Fade and a City That Cannot Recognise Itself

Fly into Bole International Airport on any given morning and the new visitor to Addis Ababa will likely be struck by something unexpected. Glass towers catch the equatorial light. Half-finished luxury condominium blocks crowd the skyline. Billboards in Arabic and English advertise residential developments with names that evoke the Gulf. A certain class of returning diaspora, a certain strain of breathless travel writing, and a particular kind of investor prospectus have begun circulating a phrase that would have bewildered the city’s founders: Addis Ababa is the new Dubai.

Do they know it is Yekatit 12?

To ask that question in February 2026 as the Ethiopian calendar turns again toward Yekatit 12, the date on which 19 February 1937 falls,  is to ask something more urgent than whether visitors to Addis Ababa are aware of a historical tragedy. It is to ask whether the city’s newest patrons, its most vocal claimants, and its most ambitious planners have absorbed the ethical inheritance of that day: that Addis Ababa has already been declared, once before, the exclusive property of a foreign power and a particular vision of luxury. That it was reordered by force. That people died approximately 19,200 of them in seventy-two hours alone, by Ian Campbell’s careful estimate (Campbell, 2017), so that it might become someone else’s imperial capital.

The Dubai comparison is not merely aesthetic vanity. It is a political symptom. And Yekatit 12 is the historical lens through which its contradictions become visible.

I. The New Dubai Narrative: What It Means and Who It Serves

The comparison to Dubai carries different meanings depending on who is speaking. For some international observers and diplomats, it gestures toward Addis Ababa’s undeniable growth, its expanded road networks, its Chinese-built light railway, its emergence as the diplomatic capital of the African continent, home to the African Union and a proliferating constellation of UN agencies. The city accounts for more than thirty per cent of Ethiopia’s GDP while housing less than five per cent of its population (CSA, 2008). By certain measures, the analogy is not absurd.

But the Dubai comparison being circulated in a more specific, and more troubling, register is not primarily about economic dynamism. It is about a particular aesthetic and a particular clientele. It refers to UAE investors who have secured controlling stakes in high-end residential developments in the city’s expanding districts. It refers to the direct financial relationships cultivated between the government of Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed and Gulf capital relationships that have channelled foreign direct investment into visible, photogenic infrastructure while the social fabric beneath it strains under contradictions the glass facades do not reflect.

When visitors from abroad describe Addis Ababa as the new Dubai, they are often, whether they know it or not, describing a city being remade for a particular class of people. The Emirati investor. The returning high-net-worth diaspora. The international NGO professional who wants a rooftop pool and a concierge. What they are less likely to be describing — because these people are no longer visible in the neighbourhoods being redeveloped are the approximately 100,000 residents displaced from the city’s central and peri-urban areas to make room for this transformation. Communities removed from Kolfe, Gulele, Kirkos and the expanding metropolitan fringe, relocated to peripheral blocks far from their livelihoods, their schools, their social networks.

One hundred thousand people cleared. A skyline polished for the richest Gulf citizens.

Do they know it is Yekatit 12?

Historian Ian Campbell has documented how Italian fascist urban planners in the late 1930s envisioned reordering Addis Ababa along precisely these lines: European quarters to enjoy paved roads, sanitation and modernist boulevards; indigenous districts relegated to peripheral zones with minimal services (Campbell, 2017). Anti-miscegenation laws enforced social separation. By 1939, approximately 50,000 Italians resided in Ethiopia, concentrated in the capital. The colonial premise was explicit: Addis Ababa was to become a European imperial city, with Africans in subordinate spaces.

The mechanisms today are different. There are no Blackshirts. The legal instruments are municipal development orders, master plans and market forces rather than racial laws. Yet the spatial logic, the clearing of the poor and the indigenous to make room for an aspirationally cosmopolitan elite, carries an uncomfortable historical resonance that the Dubai enthusiasts have not paused to examine.

II. The Conservative Ethiopian Nationalist Argument: Menelik’s City Belongs to All Ethiopians

Before examining the Oromo elite claim on Addis Ababa, it is necessary to give serious attention to a counter-argument that Ethiopian nationalist conservatives have long advanced one that is historically substantive, frequently overlooked in international commentary, and which contains within it a profound and under-appreciated irony.

Conservative Ethiopian nationalists argue, with considerable historical justification, that Addis Ababa was founded as a city for all Ethiopians. Emperor Menelik II established the capital formally in 1886, choosing the site, known to surrounding Oromo communities as Finfinne , for its elevation, its climate and its hot springs. His empress, Taytu Betul, is credited with naming it Addis Ababa: New Flower. From its founding, it was conceived not as a tribal or ethnic capital but as the seat of a multi-ethnic empire that Menelik was in the process of consolidating.

Here the nationalist argument introduces its most pointed historical observation, and it deserves to be stated clearly and without embarrassment: Menelik II himself, by bloodline and ancestry, was of mixed heritage that included Oromo lineage. This is not a fringe claim. It is documented in Ethiopian dynastic history. The same applies, with varying degrees of genealogical complexity, to Emperor Haile Selassie I, whose family connections crossed the ethnic boundaries that contemporary political discourse treats as ancient and impermeable. And it applies, most strikingly of all, to President Mengistu Haile Mariam, the Derg strongman whose brutal seventeen-year rule is among the darkest chapters in Ethiopian history and who was himself of partial Oromo descent.

The conservative nationalist argument draws from this a pointed observation: none of these leaders not Menelik, not Haile Selassie, not even Mengistu ever claimed Addis Ababa as an exclusively Oromo city. None of them framed the capital as the sovereign possession of a single ethnicity. Whatever their failures, and those failures were considerable and in Mengistu’s case catastrophic, each of them conceptualised Addis Ababa as a city in which all Ethiopians, Amhara, Oromo, Gurage, Tigrean, Somali, Sidama and all others, had the right to dwell, to trade, to worship and to call home.

This is not a trivial point. It means that the framing of Addis Ababa as exclusively Oromo space,  Finfinne for the Oromo and by implication not equally for other Ethiopians, represents not the recovery of an ancient tradition but the invention of a new and exclusionary politics. Even the emperors and dictators of Oromo blood who preceded the current era did not make this claim. They governed, badly or well, as Ethiopians over Ethiopians.

The conservative nationalist position has its own blind spots and its own uses as political instrument. Ethiopian nationalism has historically suppressed minority identities, denied linguistic rights and used the rhetoric of unity to justify assimilationist policies that caused genuine harm to Oromo, Somali and other communities. The 2014-2016 protests that mobilised hundreds of thousands of Oromo demonstrators, and that cost hundreds of lives at the hands of federal security forces, were not manufactured grievances. They arose from real injustice.

But the nationalist argument about Addis Ababa’s civic universalism contains a democratic insight that transcends its ideological packaging: a city founded by a man of partial Oromo ancestry, built by labour from every corner of the empire, grown through the settlement of dozens of communities across more than a century, cannot be retrospectively converted into the exclusive patrimony of one ethnic group — even the ethnic group from whose land it grew.

If Menelik , Oromo by blood among other things, built a city for all Ethiopians, then the claim that his city belongs to Oromos alone is, at minimum, a selective reading of his own project. And if that claim is advanced by an elite class whose members have accumulated land, political appointments, business licenses and international celebrity under the banner of Oromo rights, while 100,000 poor residents, many of them Oromo themselves are cleared to make room for Gulf-financed towers, then the contradiction becomes not merely intellectual but moral.

III. The Oromo Elite Claim: Justice, Selectivity and the Dubai Exit

The claim of Oromo elites to Addis Ababa as fundamentally Oromo space is historically grounded in the displacement and dispossession that accompanied the city’s expansion across what had been Oromo farmland and grazing territory. The 1995 Constitution’s recognition of Oromia’s “special interest” in the capital under Article 49 reflects a constitutional acknowledgement of this history (Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia, 1995). The protests of 2014-2016 demonstrated that these grievances commanded mass support across Oromia (Human Rights Watch, 2016).

Yet within elite Oromo political discourse, something else has also been operating alongside these legitimate arguments: a language of exclusive possession that sits uncomfortably beside the behaviour of those who advance it most loudly.

No figure encapsulates these contradictions more sharply than Feyisa Lilesa. At the 2016 Rio Olympics, Lilesa crossed the marathon finishing line with his arms raised in an X — the gesture of Oromo protest performed before a global audience while his fellow protesters were being shot in the streets of Oromia. It was an act of extraordinary symbolic courage that forced the world to look at Ethiopia when it preferred to look away.

Yet the story does not end at the finishing line. Reports emerged that Lilesa was subsequently involved in a road incident in Addis Ababa in which children were struck by his four-wheel drive vehicle. Rather than face accountability within the country whose cause he had embodied, he departed. To Dubai.

The irony is almost architectural in its precision. The man who became the international face of Oromo resistance against a government he accused of dispossessing and killing his people who converted that resistance into celebrity, political protection and material wealth,  chose, when accountability arrived at his own door, to flee to the very city whose model of glittering exclusivity is now being applied to Addis Ababa to dispossess the very communities he claimed to represent.

Dubai does not do accountability. It does luxury and impunity and the purchased anonymity of the very wealthy. That an Oromo elite should flee there and that this should be treated as a private matter of no political relevance  is not a footnote. It is a window into the class character of an elite that speaks the language of historical justice while living the life of Gulf-adjacent privilege.

IV. The Shared Bloodline the Politicians Prefer to Forget

The conservative nationalist observation about Menelik’s Oromo ancestry opens a deeper question that contemporary Ethiopian identity politics systematically suppresses: after more than a century of intermarriage, shared urban life, military service, commercial partnership and cultural exchange in Addis Ababa, the ethnic categories being deployed to divide the city’s past and future are far less stable than any of their champions acknowledge.

Haile Selassie presided over a modernising empire with genuine Oromo lineage in his family tree and chose to govern as an Ethiopian emperor rather than an Oromo king. Mengistu Haile Mariam, a man of Oromo and Konso descent who instituted one of the most brutal dictatorships in African history, never once claimed to be governing in the name of Oromo sovereignty. Whatever the crimes of these regimes, and they were grave, their ethnic self-positioning was consistently toward an Ethiopian identity that encompassed rather than excluded.

The irony that contemporary Oromo elite nationalism, which presents itself as liberation from Amhara imperial domination,  finds its most direct historical refutation not in Amhara voices but in the choices of leaders who shared Oromo blood and chose Ethiopia anyway, is one that the current political discourse is structurally unable to process.

This does not mean that Oromo historical grievances are invalid. It means that the ethnic framework being used to prosecute those grievances is considerably more constructed, more recent and more politically motivated than its proponents acknowledge. As the 2007 census indicates, Addis Ababa is approximately 47 per cent Amharic-speaking, 19 per cent Oromo-speaking, 16 per cent Gurage-speaking, with significant further diversity in the remainder. These communities did not arrive as colonial settlers. They arrived, over generations, as Ethiopians, many of them poor Ethiopians seeking livelihoods in the capital that Menelik built and that every subsequent government maintained as a shared national space.

V. Displacement as Continuity: From Fascist Segregation to Market Erasure

Italian occupation of Addis Ababa from 1936 to 1941 was spatial as well as military. Urban planning documents from the period proposed redesigning the city along racial lines, displacing Ethiopians to peripheral zones while European quarters received paved roads, sanitation and modernist architecture (Campbell, 2017; Labanca, 2002). The demographic shock of Yekatit 12, approximately 20 per cent of the city’s population killed in seventy-two hours, emptied neighbourhoods that Italian settlers then filled.

The occupation ended. The Yekatit 12 Monument at Sidist Kilo stands today as architectural testimony. Its bas-reliefs depict bound prisoners, grieving mothers and burning homes. The victims commemorated there are remembered as Ethiopians, not as members of discrete ethnic communities. The fascist bullets, as the historical record makes clear, did not distinguish between Amhara, Oromo, Gurage or Tigrean.

The spatial logic the massacre enabled clearing people from land to create a city for a different and more powerful class of inhabitants, has found new expression in the development model the Dubai analogy celebrates. The 100,000 displaced residents of contemporary Addis Ababa were not killed. They were relocated. But relocation at distance from livelihood is its own form of civic death. Markets disappear. Children travel hours to schools they used to walk to. Social networks built across generations dissolve. The language of development and master planning, deployed today as it was deployed in Italian urban policy documents of the 1930s, does not announce itself as violence. It announces itself as progress.

When Gulf investors purchase luxury residential blocks on the cleared land, and when Oromo political elites celebrate the assertion of Oromo sovereignty over the same city whose poor Oromo residents are among those being cleared, the question of who the Dubai transformation actually serves becomes impossible to avoid.

• VI. What the Three Claims Have in Common

Three distinct claims on Addis Ababa are currently in circulation. Gulf-inflected international capital claims it through investment and the transformation of its skyline into a mirror of Gulf urbanism. Oromo nationalist elites claim it through ethnic sovereignty and historical dispossession. Conservative Ethiopian nationalists claim it through the civic universalism of Menelik’s founding and the multi-ethnic imperial tradition.

Each of these claims, when pushed to its absolute, requires the exclusion of someone else. Gulf capital excludes the poor regardless of ethnicity. Oromo ethnic sovereignty excludes the Amhara grandmother who has lived in Merkato for fifty years, the Gurage trader whose family has been in Kolfe for three generations, the Tigrean civil servant whose children were born in the city. Conservative Ethiopian nationalism, in its less reflective iterations, has historically excluded Oromo cultural identity from legitimate expression in the public sphere.

The lesson of Yekatit 12,  as articulated in both historical scholarship and the ethical reflection that the date demands — is precisely that absolutism in civic ownership destroys cities. The victims of 19 February 1937 were drawn from every community that Addis Ababa contained. The shared trauma of that massacre produced the shared memorial at Sidist Kilo. The date did not belong to one ethnic group. The grief did not sort itself by tribe.

If there is an argument that transcends the current political fragmentation, it is the one contained in the historical behaviour of Menelik himself a man of mixed blood including Oromo ancestry who founded a city and named it New Flower and appeared, whatever his other failings, to intend it as a place where Ethiopians of all origins might dwell. Not perfectly. Not without violence and hierarchy and the injustices of empire. But as Ethiopians, together, rather than as ethnic populations sorted into zones of belonging and exclusion.

Knowing the Date, Reading the City

Each year the Ethiopian calendar turns to Yekatit 12. The date does not demand resentment. It demands remembrance and, more than remembrance, the kind of recognition that sees patterns,  the recurring logic of declaring a plural city the exclusive possession of a single power, whether that power is Italian fascism, Gulf capital, ethnic nationalism or imperial nostalgia.

Addis Ababa is both Finfinne and Addis Ababa. It is Oromo geography and Ethiopian capital. It is local homeland and African diplomatic centre. It was founded by a man of Oromo blood who called it New Flower for all his subjects. It was massacred by fascists who wanted it for Europeans alone. It was rebuilt by Ethiopians of every origin. It is currently being partially remade for Gulf investors and a thin wealthy stratum, at the cost of 100,000 of its poorest residents.

The conservative nationalist who invokes Menelik’s civic universalism is right that the city was never meant to belong to one ethnic group alone and should acknowledge that this universalism came with imperial violence that demands recognition. The Oromo nationalist who invokes historical dispossession at Finfinne is right that land loss is a genuine grievance, and should acknowledge that the man who built the city on that land shared their blood and did not build it for Oromos alone. The Gulf investor who sees the next Dubai should be asked, plainly and on the record: do you know what was cleared to build this? Do you know it is Yekatit 12?

If they all know, if the date is genuinely understood rather than merely observed, then they know that memory is not about the past alone. It is a compass for the future.

That compass, at the moment, is pointing somewhere that the martyrs of Yekatit 12, of every ethnicity who fell together on those three days in February 1937, would not have recognised as the city for which they died.

References

Campbell, I. (2014) The Plot to Kill Graziani. Addis Ababa: Addis Ababa University Press.

Campbell, I. (2017) The Addis Ababa Massacre: Italy’s National Shame. London: Hurst.

Central Statistical Agency (CSA) (2008) 2007 Population and Housing Census of Ethiopia. Addis Ababa: CSA.

Del Boca, A. (1969) Italiani in Africa Orientale. Rome: Laterza.

Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia (1995) Constitution of the FDRE. Addis Ababa.

Human Rights Watch (2016) Such a Brutal Crackdown. New York: HRW.

Labanca, N. (2002) Oltremare: Storia dell’espansione coloniale italiana. Bologna: Il Mulino.

Marcus, H. (1994) A History of Ethiopia. Berkeley: University of California Press.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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Ethiopia’s economic debate is increasingly shaped not by what appears in the national budget, but by what happens outside it. Across ministries, agencies and development bodies, a growing share of public revenue is now raised through so-called contributions, commissions and special charges that sit beyond the formal tax system. These collections are rarely debated in parliament, seldom time-limited and often weakly linked to measurable outcomes. What began as an emergency practice has, quietly, become a governing habit.

For ordinary Ethiopians, the effects are felt not in policy documents but in daily transactions. Traders speak of new charges appearing without warning. Salaried workers notice deductions they struggle to interpret. Small businesses recount inspections that end with payments rather than guidance. The frustration is not simply about money; it is about uncertainty. When obligations change frequently and explanations are thin, people stop planning for growth and start planning for survival.

Economists warn that uncertainty is among the most damaging forces in any economy. It discourages investment, compresses ambition and raises the cost of risk. In Ethiopia, where private enterprise is already navigating inflation, foreign exchange shortages and weak demand, unpredictable charges act as a further brake. The economy remains active, but its capacity to expand is steadily eroded.

Supporters of these off-budget collections usually advance a familiar defence. Ethiopia, they argue, is under exceptional strain. Debt servicing costs are high, security demands remain pressing and public expectations continue to rise. Formal tax reform is slow and politically sensitive. Contributions, commissions and special levies are therefore presented as pragmatic tools, necessary to keep institutions functioning in difficult times.

At first glance, this logic appears reasonable. Governments everywhere must balance ideals against constraints. Yet the defence begins to weaken when the practice becomes permanent rather than temporary. Emergency measures are meant to bridge gaps, not replace systems. When institutions rely on extraction instead of reform, necessity quietly turns into dependency.

The deeper problem is not revenue collection itself, but the absence of a clear link between payment and value. In public finance, legitimacy depends on reciprocity. Citizens accept taxation when they can see how it supports services, infrastructure and opportunity. When money is collected merely to sustain institutions, without visible improvement in performance, trust declines. Over time, compliance becomes grudging rather than voluntary.

This erosion of trust has tangible economic consequences. Businesses shorten their planning horizons. Entrepreneurs postpone expansion. Capital becomes cautious, then mobile. Skilled workers begin to consider exit options. None of this happens overnight. It unfolds gradually, often unnoticed by policymakers until the damage is well advanced.

Ethiopia is not the first country to face this dilemma. Around the world, states under fiscal pressure have experimented with parafiscal measures, especially during periods of crisis. The outcomes are remarkably consistent. Where extraction became routine, growth slowed, informality expanded and political resistance hardened. Where governments corrected course, recovery followed.

In parts of Latin America, repeated emergency levies introduced during debt crises fragmented tax systems and undermined compliance. Businesses faced overlapping obligations, many poorly defined and inconsistently enforced. Investment retreated, and capital flight accelerated. Fiscal stability returned only after governments simplified revenue systems, restored legislative oversight and rebuilt credibility.

Closer to home, several African economies have encountered similar tensions. Special charges introduced to shore up revenue initially generated income, but over time discouraged formalisation and weakened trust. Where reform-minded governments intervened, the solution was not harsher enforcement but rationalisation. Temporary measures were sunsetted, tax bases widened through growth, and administrative efficiency improved.

East Asia’s experience offers perhaps the clearest contrast. During their periods of rapid development, countries such as South Korea and Taiwan faced immense fiscal demands. Yet they resisted the temptation to extract indiscriminately. Instead, they prioritised productivity, industrial expansion and employment. Revenue followed growth, rather than preceding it. Taxes were transparent, predictable and legislated, even as the state played an active economic role.

The common thread across these cases is not ideology, but discipline. Successful governments maintained clear boundaries between taxation and fees. Anything compulsory passed through law. Institutions were required to justify their budgets through performance, not pressure. Citizens were treated as partners in development, not merely sources of revenue.

In Ethiopia, the expansion of off-budget contributions suggests those boundaries are weakening. Institutions increasingly ask where money can be collected, rather than how value can be created. This shift in mindset has long-term consequences. When survival depends on extraction, reform becomes optional. Inefficiency hardens. Accountability fades.

The human cost of this trajectory is often underestimated. Economic pressure does not need to be dramatic to be decisive. For skilled professionals and entrepreneurs, the calculation is incremental. Each additional charge, each new uncertainty, nudges the balance away from investment and towards exit. The result is a quiet but persistent loss of talent and capital.

None of this implies that Ethiopia lacks patriotism or resilience. On the contrary, citizens have repeatedly demonstrated willingness to endure hardship when it is clearly linked to collective progress. What undermines that willingness is not sacrifice itself, but the sense that sacrifice is being demanded without direction or return.

There is also a political dimension that cannot be ignored. When revenue collection escapes parliamentary scrutiny, democratic accountability weakens. Legislatures exist not merely to approve budgets, but to legitimise extraction by linking it to public purpose. Bypassing that process may seem efficient in the short term, but it carries long-term costs for governance.

Critics of reform often argue that Ethiopia cannot afford restraint. Yet the evidence suggests the opposite. Extraction without growth narrows the future tax base. Growth without extraction expands it. The choice is not between revenue and development, but between short-term relief and long-term viability.

Progressive democratic governments that have faced similar constraints have learned this lesson through experience. They have moved to simplify revenue systems, protect predictability and focus on enabling economic activity. They have accepted that sustainable finance depends on confidence as much as coercion.

For Ethiopia, the path forward does not require abandoning revenue mobilisation. It requires re-anchoring it. Contributions must be exceptional, clearly defined and time-limited. Institutions must be incentivised to improve performance rather than seek payments. Parliament must reclaim its role in legitimising compulsory collections.

Most importantly, economic policy must return to first principles. Wealth is created through productivity, innovation and work. Revenue is a by-product of that process. When the order is reversed, economies strain and societies lose faith.

The debate sparked by recent analysis is therefore not a technical quarrel about fees. It is a question about the kind of state Ethiopia wishes to be. A state that finances itself by expanding opportunity builds resilience. A state that finances itself by constant extraction exhausts it.

History offers ample warning, but also reassurance. Countries that recognise the limits of extraction early can correct course. Those that delay pay far more to recover. Ethiopia remains at a moment of choice.

Whether that choice is taken will shape not only fiscal outcomes, but the relationship between citizens and the state. In the end, no economy grows on pressure alone. Growth rests on trust, clarity and the shared belief that effort leads somewhere worth reaching.

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By E Frashie Ethiopian Tribune Columnist

The spectacle unfolded with predictable diplomatic grace. Ahmed Shide, flanked by technocrats bearing reform credentials, presented Ethiopia’s latest infrastructural dream to Christopher Landau: a New International Airport that would, we are told, cement our nation’s place as the aviation crossroads of Africa. The pitch was delivered with the earnest confidence of a government that believes it has finally learned to speak the language of international finance. One wonders whether Washington was listening, or merely being polite.

Let us be clear: the airport itself is no fantasy. Ethiopian Airlines has become our most undeniable success story, a rare state enterprise that operates not as a patronage vehicle but as a genuine commercial force. Bole International Airport, conceived in a different era, now strains under passenger volumes that have tripled in barely more than a decade. The airline’s ambitions, continental dominance, global connectivity, cannot be realised from an infrastructure choking on its own success. A new airport is not governmental grandstanding; it is commercial logic.

But logic and timing are not always companions. The government presents this proposal at a moment when our macroeconomic foundations resemble less a platform for launch than quicksand requiring constant attention. Inflation persists in double digits despite official assurances of moderation. Our foreign reserves hover perilously around two months of import cover a figure that would alarm any serious economist. The birr continues its choreographed decline, and our Chinese creditors loom large in the fiscal shadows, their patience neither infinite nor unconditional.

So when Minister Ahmed speaks of American finance and engineering expertise, we must recognise this for what it truly is: an attempt to escape a creditor relationship that has grown uncomfortably singular. For two decades, Chinese state enterprises have reshaped our physical landscape, railways, roads, industrial parks, often on terms whose opacity matched their generosity. Now, with Beijing reassessing its global commitments and Ethiopia nursing debt obligations that constrain every budget negotiation, Addis Ababa seeks new partners. The turn to Washington is less conversion than diversification.

The Americans, credit to them, have responded with the diplomatic equivalent of “show us the money.” Landau’s acknowledgment of our reform progress came wrapped in the careful language of private-sector engagement—code for demanding the very things Chinese lenders rarely insisted upon: transparency, enforceable contracts, predictable regulation, political stability. These are not unreasonable requirements. They are, however, uncomfortable ones for a government whose recent history includes civil conflict, internet blackouts, and human rights controversies that have tested Western patience.

The reform narrative our ministers presented is familiar to anyone who has followed multilateral lending discussions: fiscal consolidation, monetary discipline, private-sector-led growth. These phrases roll easily off official tongues, honed through countless meetings with IMF delegations and World Bank missions. But rhetoric and reality maintain an uneasy relationship in Ethiopian political economy. We have announced reforms before. Implementation has proven the harder discipline.

Consider the government’s infrastructure record. The Addis-Djibouti Railway operates, yes, but profitability remains elusive and maintenance costs mount. The Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam stands as both national achievement and cautionary tale years behind schedule, billions over budget, diplomatically toxic. These projects reflect a pattern: ambition announced with fanfare, execution plagued by complications the initial projections somehow failed to anticipate. Why should the airport escape this trajectory?

Yet dismissing the airport as mere governmental overreach would be equally mistaken. Aviation represents one sector where Ethiopia possesses genuine competitive advantage. Ethiopian Airlines contributes approximately three percent of GDP and supports employment networks extending far beyond its direct payroll. The hub-and-spoke model upon which this success depends absolutely requires infrastructure capable of sustaining growth. Without the airport, we risk strangling our most successful enterprise in the cradle of its own expansion.

The question, then, is not whether Ethiopia needs this airport but whether Ethiopia can deliver it. The government has offered no detailed cost projections, no financing structure, no clarity on whether this will be public-private partnership, sovereign loan, or some multilateral arrangement. This absence of specificity is not encouraging. Large infrastructure projects require not only vision but mathematical precision, risk assessment, and honest accounting of what we can afford versus what we aspire to build.

The government’s simultaneous push for banking sector liberalisation and telecommunications reform suggests awareness that credibility requires more than promises. Foreign investors particularly American firms unaccustomed to the patient opacity of Chinese state capitalism will demand evidence of regulatory consistency and judicial independence. They will scrutinise land rights frameworks, labour relations, currency policy, and a dozen other factors that determine whether contracts mean what they claim to mean.

This is where the airport proposal transcends infrastructure and becomes geopolitical theatre. Washington views the Horn of Africa as strategically significant, a region where Chinese influence has grown uncomfortably dominant from the American perspective. Supporting Ethiopian infrastructure allows the United States to deepen economic engagement while promoting its preferred development model: private capital, governance standards, environmental commitments. But American engagement will be conditional, calibrated by risk assessments that weigh Ethiopia’s potential against its instabilities.

For Addis Ababa, the calculation is equally complex. We need Western goodwill for ongoing IMF negotiations and access to concessional finance. We need to demonstrate we are not simply a Chinese client state. But we also need to maintain domestic political control and manage nationalist sensitivities about foreign influence. The airport becomes the stage upon which these contradictions must somehow be reconciled.

The Ethiopian public, meanwhile, observes with practiced scepticism. We have heard grand infrastructure promises before. We have watched costs balloon and timelines extend while benefits concentrate in familiar hands. The government must therefore communicate not merely the vision but the mechanics: Who will build? Who will profit? Who will bear the costs if projections prove optimistic? Transparency is not simply a Western imposition; it is the foundation of public trust in expensive national commitments.

What unfolds here is larger than an airport. It is Ethiopia attempting to rewrite its economic model while managing the geopolitical consequences of past choices. It is a government seeking legitimacy through reform rhetoric while grappling with implementation challenges that rhetoric cannot solve. It is a nation at the intersection of aspiration and constraint, hoping American capital can bridge the gap.

The airport may eventually rise concrete and steel testament to Ethiopian ambition and American partnership. Or it may join the lengthening list of projects whose promise exceeded our capacity for delivery. The difference will be determined not by ministerial presentations in Washington but by the unglamorous work of building institutions, honouring commitments, and managing the distance between what we announce and what we achieve.

For now, the proposal stands as exactly that: a proposal, polished and presented, awaiting the cold arithmetic of feasibility studies and risk assessments. Whether it becomes monument or mirage depends on questions the government has yet to answer publicly. One hopes the enthusiasm for American finance is matched by appetite for American scrutiny.

The challenge, as always, is ours to meet.

 The views expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official position of the Ethiopian Tribune

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

Introduction

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summary and The Road Forward

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

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

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

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

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

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

― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956

Academic & Scholarly Sources

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woybela Mariam Church incident. (2022). Wikipedia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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By Ethiopian Tribune columnist E. Frashie

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

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

The Mechanics of Unification: More Sophisticated Than Acknowledged

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

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

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

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

The leadership structure itself reflects careful balancing:

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

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

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

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

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

The Eskinder Nega Puzzle: Strategic Placement, Not Rejection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What Unification Actually Changes: The Strategic Landscape

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deconstructing Dr Dagnachew’s Conspiracy Theory

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

The evidentiary vacuum:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Territorial Expansion Question: Real Grievances, Cynical Exploitation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the Government Should Do (But Won’t)

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

Immediate confidence-building measures:

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

Structured dialogue framework:

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

Constitutional reform process:

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

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

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

The Military Stalemate Nobody Acknowledges

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The International Dimension: Rhetoric versus Reality

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion: Unification as Ultimatum, Not Invitation

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

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

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

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

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

The path not taken would require:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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A Dialogue Between Two Minds

By Ms Leeshan Kuratey, Ethiopian Tribune Columnist

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

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

I. Two Men and a Question of Power

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

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

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

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

II. Deterrence, Hegemony, and the Sky Above

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

III. Power Before Unity: The Fragile Architecture

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

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

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

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

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

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

IV. The Sea Aspiration: Renewal or Risk?

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

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

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

This is where their conversation becomes especially rich and complex.

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

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

V. Urgency as Leverage: A Quiet Mechanism of Power

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

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

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

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

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

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

VI. Maritime Access: Pathways and Their Consequences

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

1. Multilateral, Regional, Rules‑Based Access

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

Advantages:

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

Challenges:

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

2. Facilitated Access via a Great‑Power Broker

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

Advantages:

Faster access Security backing Large investment potential

Risks:

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

3. Coercive or Quasi‑Coercive Drift

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

Outcomes:

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

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

VII. The Interaction of Air Power and Maritime Ambition

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

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

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

Akalu puts it simply:

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

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

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

VIII. Internal Consensus as a Pillar of Sovereignty

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

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

By this he means:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He offers a final framing:

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

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

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

X. The Silence After Words

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

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

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

Epilogue: Strategy Before Sovereignty

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

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

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

Air power can deter external foes.

Maritime access can transform economies.

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

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

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By Endex, Ethiopian Tribune editor in chief

In the Mexico district of central Addis Ababa, where concrete modernity jostles uneasily with imperial memory, the sale of the Wabi Shebelle Hotel marks more than a routine commercial transaction. Completed in 1960 and now acquired by Sheikh Mohammed Ali Al-Amoudi, the hotel’s transfer of ownership closes a long, unresolved chapter in Ethiopia’s uneasy relationship with private property, monarchy, and the state.

Wabi Shebelle was built at the height of Emperor Haile Selassie I’s modernising ambitions. The hotel was not merely another hospitality venture; it was conceived as a source of income for the children of Prince Mekonnen, the Emperor’s son who died tragically in a car accident. In that sense, the building was both personal and political, a blend of dynastic responsibility and developmental optimism. At the time, Addis Ababa was positioning itself as Africa’s diplomatic capital, and hotels were instruments of national projection as much as commercial assets.

The overthrow of the monarchy in 1974 severed that lineage abruptly. Under the Derg military regime, Wabi Shebelle, like much private property associated with the imperial family was nationalised. Ownership became ideological rather than legal, and value was subordinated to revolutionary symbolism. What had once been a private income-generating asset was absorbed into a command economy that neither invested in nor preserved it adequately.

The hotel’s eventual return to the heirs during the EPRDF era was part of a broader, halting attempt to reconcile socialist expropriation with market reform. Yet restitution did not bring closure. Like many returned assets, Wabi Shebelle remained caught between sentiment and strategy. The heirs inherited not only bricks and mortar, but also decades of deferred maintenance, regulatory uncertainty, and political sensitivity.

Several attempts to sell the property failed. At one point, a prospective buyer reportedly offered more than two billion birr, an extraordinary sum by Ethiopian standards, but negotiations collapsed. Later, the value of the property declined after part of its land was taken for Addis Ababa’s corridor-development programme, a reminder that urban renewal in Ethiopia often proceeds with scant regard for historical continuity or private ownership. Even a near-purchase by a private bank fell through once it became clear the building would be repurposed primarily for financial services rather than hospitality.

The eventual buyer, Sheikh Mohammed Ali Al-Amoudi, is no stranger to Ethiopia’s economic landscape. Through MIDROC Investment Group, he has become one of the country’s most consequential private investors, straddling mining, agriculture, manufacturing and hospitality. His acquisition of Wabi Shebelle therefore carries both commercial logic and symbolic weight. It reunites a historically charged asset with a figure who has often functioned as a bridge between Ethiopia’s political elites and global capital.

The transaction was signed by Prince Beede Mariam Mekonnen on behalf of the sellers, and by Mr Jamal Mohammed, Chief Executive Officer of MIDROC Group, for the buyer. While the sale price has not been publicly disclosed, the emphasis has been placed elsewhere: preservation. MIDROC has announced that the hotel will be renovated without altering its historic character, and will operate under the Marriott Autograph Collection, a brand that trades precisely on narrative, heritage and distinctiveness rather than uniform luxury.

This matters. Addis Ababa’s recent redevelopment has often favoured demolition over adaptation, erasing buildings that once anchored the city’s memory. To retain Wabi Shebelle’s architectural and historical identity while upgrading it to global standards is to make a quiet but consequential argument: that Ethiopia’s past need not be an obstacle to its commercial future.

For MIDROC, the renovation offers reputational as well as financial returns. For the Mekonnen family, it provides a dignified exit from an asset whose emotional significance has long outweighed its economic utility. And for Ethiopia more broadly, the sale underscores an unresolved truth: property in the country is never merely property. It is history made tangible, politics rendered in concrete.

That Wabi Shebelle has survived revolution, nationalisation, restitution and urban redesign is itself remarkable. That it will now be reborn as a high-end hotel within a global brand network suggests a partial reconciliation between Ethiopia’s imperial inheritance and its market-driven present. Yet the story also raises quieter questions. How many other restituted properties languish, unsold and underused, because legal certainty remains fragile? How often does development proceed by subtraction rather than preservation?

In the end, Wabi Shebelle’s sale is less about who owns the hotel today than about what Ethiopia chooses to do with its past. The building has outlived emperors and regimes alike. Its next chapter will test whether memory can be monetised without being erased and whether history, in Addis Ababa, can finally be treated as an asset rather than an inconvenience.

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