Tarku B Terfa

A new argument has emerged urging Dr. Birhanu M Lenjiso, whom even the writer admits is not new to either public policy or political debate, to leave politics and return to academia.

I do not think Dr. Birhanu himself will go down the road of responding to such arguments. So, I have decided to shoulder the dirty job of rebutting what I consider to be a fundamentally stupid argument.

The writer presents three reasons, labelled as “gaffes”, to support the conclusion that Dr. Birhanu should leave politics. The first alleged “gaffe” concerns his response to the binary question, “Finfinneen tan eenyuti?”, posed to him during an election debate. The second concerns his recent piece titled “Mariin yaada kennuuf malee morma kennuuf hin godhamu.” The third concerns a short video he recently shared on social media relating to the book ዳግማዊ ሚኒልክ እና የታሪክ ፖለቲካ, written by Dr. Dachasa Abebe.

Here is my rebuttal.

The First “Gaffe”: Finfinnee

As far as I am concerned, there was no gaffe whatsoever.

Dr. Birhanu made a clear political statement. He said that Finfinnee, as the capital city of Ethiopia, belongs to all Ethiopians. At the same time, he articulated, in unequivocal terms, that the administration of Addis Ababa/Finfinnee should be accountable to the Oromia National Regional State.

These two positions do not contradict each other.

In fact, they can perfectly align. More importantly, such an arrangement may offer one of the most peaceful and sustainable ways forward for Ethiopia: recognizing Addis Ababa as the capital of all Ethiopians while also addressing Oromia’s legitimate constitutional, political, and historical relationship with the city.

There is no “gaffe” in Dr. Birhanu’s political position. If there is confusion, perhaps it lies in the interpretation of the writer, not in the argument itself.

The Second “Gaffe”: Dialogue Is Not for “Morma Kennuu”

Here, I believe the writer either does not fully understand Afaan Oromo or has deliberately chosen to twist the meaning of the statement.

Dr. Birhanu said:

Mariin yaada kennuuf malee morma kennuuf miti.

This speaks directly to one of the fundamental principles of dialogue.

The statement should also be understood within the specific context of Ethiopia’s National Dialogue. In Ethiopia, political actors have often approached disagreements with rigid and uncompromising positions, to the extent that some appear willing to choose death over compromise.

Dialogue cannot succeed under such a culture.

Furthermore, “morma kennuu” should not simply be translated as “objecting.” Objecting to an argument or disagreeing with another person’s position is perfectly normal in dialogue. Dialogue without disagreement is not dialogue.

But morma kennuu, in this context, carries a much stronger meaning. It refers to a posture of outright resistance and confrontation, a refusal to engage, and potentially a readiness to resort to force rather than reason.

That distinction matters.

Dr. Birhanu’s argument was essentially a call to embrace dialogue as a political culture and to seek solutions through engagement rather than returning to forceful methods, the very methods that have dominated Ethiopian politics for far too long.

One may disagree with his formulation. But turning that argument into a “political gaffe” requires either a serious misunderstanding of the language or a deliberate distortion of the context.

The Third “Gaffe”: Sharing a Video

The third allegation is perhaps the most out-of-touch of all.

Dr. Birhanu shared a short video clip on his personal social media account relating to a discussion of Dr. Dachasa Abebe’s book, ዳግማዊ ሚኒልክ እና የታሪክ ፖለቲካ.

First, sharing content on one’s personal social media is, at the very least, a matter of personal judgment. But more importantly, anyone who actually pays attention to the content of the video should understand what it is discussing.

The video speaks about the different ways people perceive Ethiopia.

For some citizens, Ethiopia is perceived as a mother, a mother who belongs equally to all her children. For some political actors, however, Ethiopia is treated as though it were a wife or lover: something private, exclusive, and belonging to only one group.

That is the idea being discussed.

I see absolutely nothing resembling a “gaffe” in Dr. Birhanu sharing such content. One may disagree with the analogy, challenge the historical interpretation, or debate the political implications. That is perfectly legitimate. But disagreement does not automatically transform everything someone says or shares into a political mistake.

The Bigger Problem with the Argument

The writer presents these three arguments and then arrives at the conclusion that Dr. Birhanu should leave politics and return to academia.

But one does not need to construct illogical arguments simply to arrive at a conclusion one already wants to reach.

Yes, Dr. Birhanu has strong academic tendencies. He himself would probably agree with that. But having an academic mind does not automatically disqualify someone from politics. If anything, politics desperately needs more people who can think clearly, reason consistently, and defend their positions with intellectual discipline.

In fact, Dr. Birhanu is one of the most consistent politicians I have personally observed over the past decade.

He is among the very few who consistently stand their ground. He does not always follow the political crowd. And perhaps that is precisely why some people believe he does not “fit” into politics.

But being an outlier is not the same as being wrong.

The problem with Ethiopian politics is not that there are too many people who think independently and consistently. The problem is that there are too few.

Instead of trying to push people like Dr. Birhanu out of politics because they do not fit comfortably into existing political camps (Dr. Mekonin Azage መኮንን ነኝ said something in this line) we should encourage more politicians to rise to the level of principled, logical, and consistent political engagement.

Dr. Birhanu does not need to leave politics because he thinks like an academic.

Perhaps Ethiopian politics needs more academics who are willing to think politically and more politicians who are willing to think logically.

The purpose of dialogue, therefore, is not to eliminate disagreement. It is to create a political space in which disagreement can be expressed, negotiated, and ultimately transformed into a workable national settlement.

This makes bargaining an unavoidable part of national dialogue.

But bargaining in a national dialogue is fundamentally different from ordinary political competition. In ordinary politics, an actor may sometimes gain by appearing uncompromising, intimidating an opponent, mobilizing supporters, or pushing a demand to its maximum possible limit. In national dialogue, however, every actor must consider not only what it can gain from the other side, but also what its behavior does to the trust, legitimacy, and psychological safety of the dialogue itself.

This raises a fundamental question:

How far can an actor go in advancing its demands before its behavior begins to undermine the very dialogue through which those demands are supposed to be negotiated?

The answer lies partly in understanding what can be called the range of acceptable behavior.

The Range of Acceptable Behavior

In any negotiation, there is a range within which an actor can behave assertively without being perceived as unreasonable, threatening, or unwilling to negotiate.

National dialogue is no exception.

Every participant has legitimate interests and the right to make ambitious demands. But the right to demand does not mean the freedom to behave without limits. There is a boundary between assertiveness and aggression, firmness and rigidity, advocacy and provocation, principled disagreement and deliberate obstruction.

Crossing that boundary can have consequences.

An actor that behaves too weakly may fail to advance the interests of the people it represents. But an actor that consistently behaves too aggressively may also lose credibility, alienate potential allies, reduce trust, and make compromise politically impossible.

In other words, both excessive weakness and excessive strength can become counterproductive.

This is particularly important in a country attempting to emerge from prolonged political mistrust and conflict. The dialogue table is not simply a place where claims are exchanged. It is, in itself, an institution of trust-building.

Therefore, the first question for every participant should not simply be:

“What do we want?”

It should also be:

“What is our range of acceptable behavior, and how far can we push our demands without damaging the possibility of agreement?”

The Range Is Not Fixed

The range of acceptable behavior is not permanent. It changes with context.

A demand that may be acceptable at one stage of a dialogue may be perceived as excessive at another. A confrontational statement made outside the dialogue may have a very different effect when made inside a carefully constructed negotiating space.

The range expands and contracts according to several factors: power, legitimacy, credibility, social support, the strength of alternatives, the level of trust, the history between the parties, and the perceived consequences of failure.

This is why national dialogue requires political actors to understand not only their own demands but also the environment in which those demands are being advanced.

One of the most important sources of bargaining power is the availability of alternatives.

An actor that has no alternative to an agreement has very little bargaining power. An actor that has credible alternatives has greater freedom to negotiate, reject proposals, delay agreement, or insist on important principles.

But there is an important distinction in national dialogue.

The alternative to dialogue cannot simply be confrontation.

If every participant treats failure to obtain its preferred outcome as justification for abandoning dialogue, the process becomes hostage to the most uncompromising actors.

The stronger alternative is therefore not necessarily the threat to walk away. It is the ability to say:

“We strongly disagree, but we remain committed to a peaceful political process through which this disagreement can be resolved.”

That is political strength.

Power in National Dialogue

Political power in dialogue comes in many forms.

There is numerical power: the size of the constituency an actor represents.

There is institutional power: the ability to influence institutions and policy.

There is organizational power: the capacity to mobilize people and sustain collective action.

There is social power: legitimacy and support among citizens.

There is intellectual power: the ability to produce credible arguments and evidence.

There is moral power: the ability to frame a demand around broadly accepted principles of justice and fairness.

And there is relational power: the ability to build alliances and persuade actors who do not initially share one’s position.

However, there is another form of power that is particularly important in national dialogue:

the power to create trust.

An actor that is perceived as predictable, principled, respectful and genuinely committed to dialogue can often exercise greater influence than an actor with greater numerical or institutional strength but little credibility.

This is why appearing powerful in national dialogue does not necessarily mean appearing aggressive.

Sometimes the strongest actor in the room is the one capable of saying:

“This is our position, this is why we believe it is justified, and these are the areas in which we are prepared to listen and negotiate.”

That is firmness without rigidity.

The Trust Double Bind

National dialogue faces a particular form of what might be called a trust double bind.

If participants are too cautious, too silent, or too accommodating, important grievances may remain unaddressed. People outside the dialogue may conclude that their representatives have failed to defend their interests.

But when participants behave in ways that are excessively confrontational, dismissive, threatening, or maximalist, other participants may conclude that they are not genuinely interested in dialogue.

Thus:

If you do not speak strongly enough, you may lose your constituency.

If you speak without regard to the boundaries of dialogue, you may lose the trust of the other participants.

The challenge is to find the space between these two dangers.

That space is the range of acceptable behavior.

National Dialogue Is Not a Competition to Maximize Demands

One of the greatest misunderstandings about national dialogue is the assumption that every participant must maximize its demands.

But dialogue is not a competition in which the winner is the actor that extracts the largest concession.

A successful dialogue produces something more complicated: a settlement that different groups can live with, defend to their constituencies, and implement without immediately reopening the conflict.

Therefore, the objective should not be:

“How much can we force others to concede?”

It should be:

“How can we advance our legitimate interests while preserving enough trust and political space for others to accept the outcome?”

This distinction is fundamental.

A participant can technically win a bargaining round and still lose the dialogue.

If an actor humiliates another participant, questions their legitimacy, deliberately provokes them, or repeatedly moves outside the accepted boundaries of dialogue, it may secure a short-term advantage while destroying the trust required for a long-term agreement.

That is not strategic bargaining. It is strategic self-defeat.

The Most Important Bargaining Asset: Credibility

In national dialogue, credibility is often more important than volume.

An actor that repeatedly makes maximalist demands but is unwilling to compromise gradually loses credibility. An actor that makes threats it cannot or will not implement also loses credibility.

Conversely, an actor that clearly identifies its principles, distinguishes core interests from negotiable positions, provides evidence for its claims, and consistently behaves according to agreed rules becomes more influential.

This is why participants should arrive at the dialogue table with three things clearly distinguished:

1. Principles that cannot easily be compromised;

2. Interests that can be negotiated; and

3. Positions that may change as new information and arguments emerge.

Without this distinction, every position becomes a principle, every disagreement becomes existential, and every compromise becomes betrayal.

That is precisely how dialogue becomes impossible.

Three Ways to Expand the Bargaining Range

There are at least three practical ways through which participants in national dialogue can strengthen their bargaining position without damaging the dialogue.

1. Build Genuine Social Representation

Political actors cannot negotiate effectively if they are disconnected from the people they claim to represent.

Representation is not merely a label. It must be demonstrated through consultation, responsiveness, accountability and the ability to explain the concerns of constituencies in a credible manner.

Participants should therefore continuously consult their constituencies and understand their priorities.

But consultation should not mean simply asking people what they want and then taking the most extreme demand to the dialogue table.

Political leadership requires something more sophisticated: listening to society, interpreting its concerns, translating grievances into policy demands, and identifying areas where compromise is possible without abandoning legitimate interests.

The representative should become a bridge between society and the dialogue table—not simply a loudspeaker for society’s anger.

This is where perspective-taking becomes particularly important.

Every participant should ask:

How does this issue look from the perspective of another community?

What historical experience shapes their fear?

Why might they consider our demand threatening?

What assurance could make our demand more acceptable to them?

Perspective-taking does not mean abandoning one’s own position. It means understanding the psychological and political position of others well enough to negotiate with them.

2. Increase Expertise and Evidence

The second source of bargaining power is expertise.

National dialogue cannot be built exclusively on historical grievances, political slogans, or competing narratives. Complex political questions require evidence.

Participants should therefore invest in policy expertise, constitutional knowledge, historical research, demographic analysis, economic evidence, institutional design, conflict resolution and comparative experience.

A strong political demand should be capable of answering:

What is the problem?

What evidence demonstrates it?

What exactly are we demanding?

Why is the demand legitimate?

How would it work institutionally?

What are its consequences for others?

What compromises are possible?

What implementation mechanism would be required?

The better the evidence, the stronger the credibility.

In a polarized environment, expertise can perform an important additional function: it can move the discussion away from accusation and toward problem-solving.

Instead of saying:

“You are the problem,”

a participant can say:

“Here is the problem, here is the evidence, here is how different groups experience it, and here are several possible solutions.”

That is a much stronger bargaining position.

3. Build and Protect Social Trust

The third source of bargaining power is social trust.

No national dialogue can succeed if participants enter the process believing that every other participant is acting in bad faith.

Trust does not mean believing that others share your interests.

It means believing that disagreement can occur without the other side deliberately destroying the process.

This requires participants to demonstrate several behaviors:

• listen before responding;

• acknowledge legitimate grievances even when disagreeing with their interpretation;

• avoid unnecessary humiliation;

• distinguish disagreement from delegitimization;

• keep commitments;

• avoid deliberate misinformation;

• respect procedural rules;

• communicate clearly with their constituencies;

• and demonstrate a willingness to compromise.

There is also a powerful social mechanism that political actors often underestimate:

asking others for advice.

Seeking input from different political, professional, regional and social constituencies communicates humility and respect. It also creates ownership.

People are more likely to support a process when they feel that their views were heard and considered.

Therefore, consultation should not be treated as public relations. It should be treated as part of the bargaining architecture itself.

The Danger of Crossing the Acceptable Range

Every national dialogue needs rules of engagement.

These rules should not be designed to silence disagreement. On the contrary, they should protect the space in which disagreement can occur.

Participants should be able to make strong demands.

They should be able to criticize government policy.

They should be able to challenge historical interpretations.

They should be able to reject proposals.

They should be able to defend the interests of their constituencies forcefully.

But there is a difference between challenging an argument and challenging the legitimacy of the dialogue itself.

There is a difference between rejecting a proposal and refusing to recognize the political legitimacy of those who proposed it.

There is a difference between mobilizing public support and using public pressure to make compromise impossible.

And there is a difference between protecting a constituency and creating fear among another constituency.

Once actors repeatedly cross these boundaries, the level of trust begins to decline.

And once trust declines, the cost of bargaining rises.

Participants begin to interpret every statement as a threat. Every compromise becomes suspicious. Every concession becomes politically dangerous. Every proposal is viewed through the lens of hidden intentions.

At that point, even reasonable proposals can fail.

The National Dialogue Requires Strategic Restraint

Strategic restraint should not be confused with weakness.

In fact, restraint is often a demonstration of power.

A participant who knows its constituency, understands its alternatives, has credible evidence, enjoys social support and possesses a clear strategy does not need to demonstrate strength through constant confrontation.

It can afford to listen.

It can afford to acknowledge another group’s legitimate concern.

It can afford to change its position when evidence changes.

It can afford to compromise on secondary issues while protecting core principles.

That is not weakness.

It is strategic confidence.

The strongest participant in a national dialogue is not necessarily the one that speaks the loudest. It may be the one that can distinguish between what must be defended, what can be negotiated, and what can be surrendered without sacrificing the larger objective.

From Bargaining to National Settlement

Ultimately, national dialogue is not simply about bargaining among political organizations.

It is about constructing a political settlement that allows different communities to imagine a shared future.

That requires a fundamental shift in political thinking.

We must move from:

“How do I defeat the other side?”

to:

“How do we create an arrangement in which the other side can accept the outcome without feeling defeated?”

This is the essence of sustainable political bargaining.

A settlement that humiliates one side is unlikely to last.

A settlement that ignores legitimate grievances is unlikely to last.

A settlement that gives one group everything it wants while leaving another group feeling permanently excluded is unlikely to last.

The objective, therefore, should be neither maximum victory nor minimum compromise.

It should be a legitimate, credible and implementable settlement that sufficiently accommodates the core interests of the major constituencies while preserving the unity and functioning of the political community.

Conclusion: Know Your Range

Ethiopia’s national dialogue is taking place in an environment of accumulated grievances, deep mistrust, competing historical narratives, political polarization and unresolved questions of identity, representation and institutional design.

That makes the task extraordinarily difficult.

But difficulty does not make dialogue impossible.

It makes political maturity necessary.

Every participant should understand its own bargaining power. It should understand its constituency. It should develop expertise. It should build alliances. It should produce evidence. It should know its alternatives. It should distinguish its core interests from negotiable positions.

But above all, it should understand the range of acceptable behavior.

There is a range within which we can be assertive without being destructive, principled without being rigid, ambitious without being maximalist, and strong without making others feel threatened.

That range is not the same for every actor, and it is not fixed. It changes with circumstances, trust, credibility and power.

But one principle should remain constant:

Do not weaken the dialogue in the process of strengthening your bargaining position.

The purpose of national dialogue is not simply to make our voices heard. It is to create a political environment in which competing voices can be heard without destroying one another.

We therefore need political actors who know when to speak firmly, when to listen carefully, when to make an ambitious ask, when to compromise, and when to exercise restraint.

Because in national dialogue, the secret of political bargaining is not merely to appear stronger than you are.

It is to be credible enough to be taken seriously, restrained enough to be trusted, and strong enough to negotiate without fear.

And perhaps the most important lesson is this:

A successful national dialogue is not one in which everyone gets everything they demand. It is one in which everyone believes that they have enough voice, dignity, security and stake in the outcome to continue building the country together.

Ethiopia is at a very important strategic juncture. We are dealing simultaneously with questions of economic transformation, energy security, regional peace, maritime connectivity, and our place in a rapidly changing international order.

But I think we should simplify the discussion.

At the heart of Ethiopia’s national interest are three fundamental things: peace, prosperity, and strategic autonomy.

We need peace to develop, prosperity to sustain peace, and strategic autonomy to make decisions based on our national interests.

The GERD, economic transformation, regional integration, and maritime connectivity should therefore not be viewed as separate issues. They are different components of one broader question: How can Ethiopia build a prosperous, secure, connected, and influential country while contributing to peace and shared prosperity in the region?

That, in my view, is the strategic question we should be discussing today.

1. How do you define Ethiopia’s national interest, and where do the GERD and access to a seaport fit within that framework?

I would define national interest as the fundamental interests that a country must protect and advance in order to ensure its sovereignty, security, prosperity, and long-term development.

For Ethiopia, this includes peace and stability, economic transformation, energy security, food security, territorial sovereignty, diplomatic independence, and meaningful regional integration.

From this perspective, the GERD and reliable access to the sea are not isolated issues. They are components of Ethiopia’s broader development and national-interest strategy.

The GERD addresses one of Ethiopia’s major structural constraints—energy. Reliable access to the sea addresses another—the country’s dependence on external maritime routes for international trade.

So, in simple terms, the GERD is about powering Ethiopia’s transformation, while maritime access is about connecting that transformation to regional and global markets.

1. Why is the GERD considered a strategic national asset beyond electricity generation?

The GERD is much more than a power-generation project.

First, it is an instrument of economic transformation. Without sufficient and reliable electricity, it is extremely difficult to industrialize, expand manufacturing, modernize agriculture, develop digital services, or improve urban infrastructure.

Second, it strengthens Ethiopia’s energy security. A country with a growing population and economy needs a reliable domestic energy system.

Third, the dam creates opportunities for regional electricity trade. Ethiopia can generate power domestically and export electricity to neighboring countries, turning energy into an economic and diplomatic asset.

And finally, the GERD represents Ethiopia’s capacity to mobilize its own resources and implement a major national project.

So I see the GERD as an infrastructure project, an economic asset, an energy-security instrument, and a symbol of national development capacity.

1. What economic, political, and diplomatic benefits will Ethiopia gain once the GERD reaches full operational capacity?

Economically, the most immediate benefit is a much larger supply of reliable electricity. That can support manufacturing, agriculture, services, digitalization, and urban development.

It can also increase Ethiopia’s potential for electricity exports, creating foreign-exchange earnings and strengthening economic links with neighboring countries.

Politically, reliable energy strengthens the state’s capacity to deliver development. Development itself is an important foundation for stability.

Diplomatically, Ethiopia can increasingly become an energy supplier and regional infrastructure partner. When countries are connected through electricity grids, transport corridors, telecommunications, and trade, their interests become increasingly interconnected.

Therefore, the full operation of the GERD can help Ethiopia move from being primarily a consumer of regional infrastructure and services to becoming a provider of energy and a driver of regional economic integration.

1. What diplomatic approach should Ethiopia prioritize to safeguard its national interest while maintaining good relations with downstream countries?

Ethiopia should pursue a diplomacy of confidence, cooperation, and firmness on legitimate national interests.

There is no contradiction between defending Ethiopia’s interests and maintaining good relations with Egypt and Sudan.

The key principle should be that the Nile should become a source of cooperation rather than confrontation.

Ethiopia should continue dialogue, technical negotiations, scientific cooperation, information sharing, and confidence-building measures.

At the same time, Ethiopia should clearly communicate that its development needs cannot simply be frozen. Ethiopia has a legitimate interest in utilizing its natural resources for development, just as downstream countries have legitimate interests that need to be considered.

So the diplomatic objective should not be to ask, “Who wins and who loses?” It should be to build arrangements where Ethiopia develops while downstream countries remain confident about their legitimate interests.

1. How can the GERD contribute to regional integration, energy security, and economic cooperation in the Horn of Africa?

Energy is one of the most powerful instruments of regional integration.

If Ethiopia produces surplus electricity and exports it to neighboring countries, those countries benefit from relatively reliable and potentially competitive energy, while Ethiopia earns revenue.

That creates mutual dependence.

Imagine connecting electricity markets with transport corridors, telecommunications, financial systems, and trade. We gradually create an economically integrated region.

The GERD can therefore be viewed not simply as an Ethiopian dam, but as part of a broader regional energy and economic architecture.

The strategic opportunity is to transform shared geography from a source of competition into a platform for cooperation.

1. Ethiopia says access to the sea is a matter of national interest. From a legal and geopolitical perspective, why is this important?

It is important to make a distinction between a national interest and a unilateral entitlement.

Ethiopia is a landlocked country of more than 100 million people with one of Africa’s largest economies. International trade therefore depends heavily on reliable access to maritime infrastructure.

From an economic perspective, the issue affects trade costs, logistics, competitiveness, industrialization, and supply chains.

From a geopolitical perspective, maritime connectivity affects Ethiopia’s relationship with the Red Sea and the wider Indian Ocean region.

But international law also matters. Ethiopia’s landlocked status does not give it the right to seize territory or impose arrangements on another sovereign state. At the same time, international law recognizes the interests of landlocked states in accessing the sea through transit arrangements.

Therefore, the challenge is to translate Ethiopia’s legitimate national interest into mutually agreed, lawful, and commercially sustainable arrangements with coastal states.

1. What peaceful and mutually beneficial options are available for Ethiopia to secure reliable access to a seaport under international law?

There are several possibilities, and they should not be reduced to the idea of territorial acquisition.

The most practical approach is negotiated commercial and intergovernmental agreements with neighboring coastal states.

These could include long-term port-use agreements, dedicated commercial terminals, logistics corridors, bonded transit arrangements, investment partnerships, and infrastructure agreements connecting Ethiopia to ports.

There can also be joint economic zones or mutually beneficial investments in port and transport infrastructure.

The principle should be simple: Ethiopia needs reliable access, while coastal countries need investment, trade, revenue, and regional connectivity.

If we structure the issue around mutual benefit rather than zero-sum politics, there are many possibilities.

1. How could improved maritime access transform Ethiopia’s trade, industrialization, logistics, and competitiveness?

This could be transformative.

A country’s competitiveness is not determined only by how much it produces; it is also determined by how efficiently it can move goods.

For Ethiopia, improved maritime connectivity could reduce logistics uncertainty and potentially lower transaction costs. It could make Ethiopian manufacturing more competitive, facilitate imports of industrial inputs, and improve access to international markets.

It could also encourage investment in industrial parks, logistics centers, dry ports, warehouses, and transport corridors.

In other words, maritime access is not simply about having a port.

It is about connecting Ethiopian producers to the global economy.

That is why I consider maritime connectivity an important component of Ethiopia’s long-term economic transformation.

1. Some observers say the GERD and access to the sea are interconnected elements of Ethiopia’s long-term strategic vision. Do you agree?

Yes, I see a strategic connection, although they are not the same issue.

Think about Ethiopia’s development chain.

You need energy to produce.

You need infrastructure to move what you produce.

You need markets to sell it.

And you need regional connectivity to participate competitively in the global economy.

The GERD addresses the energy dimension of that equation. Maritime connectivity addresses the logistics and market-access dimension.

So they can be understood as complementary elements of a broader national development strategy.

But I would emphasize that neither should be pursued through confrontation. The strategic vision should be energy security, economic competitiveness, regional connectivity, and peaceful cooperation.

1. What role should neighboring countries and regional organizations play?

Neighboring countries should recognize that they are not simply neighbors geographically; increasingly, they are economically interdependent.

They should therefore look for areas where their interests converge.

Regional organizations can provide platforms for dialogue, technical cooperation, dispute prevention, infrastructure coordination, and regional integration.

For example, water management should increasingly be approached through scientific data, joint studies, information sharing, and basin-wide cooperation.

Similarly, transport corridors, energy networks, and trade systems should be developed as regional assets.

The Horn of Africa has spent too much time thinking about borders and security competition. We need to think increasingly about corridors, markets, infrastructure, energy, and shared prosperity.

1. Looking ahead, what policy priorities should Ethiopia pursue?

I would identify five major priorities.

First, peace and stability. Without peace, development cannot be sustained.

Second, economic transformation. Ethiopia needs to move from an economy constrained by low productivity toward a more productive, competitive, and diversified economy.

Third, energy and infrastructure security. The GERD is important, but Ethiopia needs a broader energy system and modern infrastructure.

Fourth, strategic diplomacy. Ethiopia should pursue a foreign policy based on national interest while maintaining constructive relations with neighbors, Africa, and global partners.

Fifth, regional integration. Ethiopia’s long-term prosperity is closely connected to the prosperity and stability of the Horn of Africa.

Ultimately, Ethiopia should pursue a strategy where national prosperity and regional prosperity reinforce each other rather than contradict each other.

1. Finally, do you have any message for viewers?

My message is that Ethiopia’s national interest should not be understood through the lens of confrontation.

A strong country is not one that has no disagreements with its neighbors. A strong country is one that has the capacity to defend its legitimate interests while building mutually beneficial relationships.

Ethiopia has enormous opportunities: its population, human capital, natural resources, energy potential, strategic location, and growing economy.

But opportunities do not automatically become national power. They require peace, competent institutions, strategic thinking, economic productivity, and responsible diplomacy.

I therefore believe our national conversation should move from simply asking, “What belongs to Ethiopia?” to a broader question: “What kind of Ethiopia do we want to build, and how can we build it in a peaceful and cooperative region?”

If we can answer that question clearly and work toward it consistently, Ethiopia’s national interest and regional peace do not have to be competing objectives. They can reinforce each other.

Before discussing national dialogue and national building in Ethiopia, I think it is important to recognize a much broader reality.

The challenge of building a cohesive and sustainable political community is not unique to Ethiopia. It is one of the defining challenges of our time.

Around the world, societies are struggling with polarization, declining trust in institutions, identity politics, and weakening social cohesion.

The question of how people with different histories, identities, and beliefs can live together under one political community is a serious global challenge.

Even countries with long democratic traditions like USA continue to struggle with these issues. During the inauguration of the Obama Presidential Center in Chicago few weeks back, former President Barack Obama spoke about the importance of rebuilding trust, overcoming polarization, and renewing the bonds that hold democratic societies together.

His message reminds us that democracy is not self-sustaining; every generation must actively strengthen social trust and civic belonging.

I find this encouraging for Ethiopia rather than discouraging.

It tells us that Ethiopia’s is not orphan. Our challenges are serious, but they are not exceptional as we often think.

Many societies have faced similar tests and have made progress through dialogue, strong institutions, and inclusive nation-building.

Therefore, if we choose the right path, Ethiopia can over come its nation building challenges and its people can build a cohesive political community through dialogue.

Ethiopia’s National Dialogue therefore should be understood within this broader global effort to rebuild trust and strengthen political communities.

But it should not be viewed simply as a political event but as a sociological process of rebuilding relationships.

Every society experiences disagreements, conflicts are inherent in societies, but what determines societies future is how it manages differences and conflicts.

In Ethiopia, years of political polarization, violence, and competing historical narratives have eroded interpersonal and institutional trust.

Trust cannot be legislated; it must be rebuilt through consistent dialogue, truth-telling, mutual recognition, and fairness.

A successful National Dialogue creates a safe space where every group feels heard, respected, and valued.

Healing begins when people move from speaking about one another to speaking with one another.

The objective is not necessarily to eliminate differences, or to make final decisions but to create a shared commitment to manage them peacefully.

Lasting social cohesion emerges when citizens begin to see diversity not as a threat but as a national asset.

If managed well, National Dialogue has a potential to transform suspicion into trust, exclusion into inclusion, and conflict into cooperation.

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2. How can the National Dialogue cultivate a stronger sense of Ethiopian identity while embracing diversity and fostering a shared national vision?

Identity should never be understood as a zero-sum game.

One can be proudly Oromo, Amhara, Somali, Sidama, Afar, Gurage, Wolayta, or from any other community while also being proudly Ethiopian.

Modern nation-building is not about erasing diversity; it is about organizing diversity around common values and shared aspirations.

National Dialogue provides an opportunity to redefine Ethiopian identity as an inclusive civic identity rooted in equal citizenship, constitutional rights, mutual respect, justice, and shared responsibility.

A strong nation is built not because everyone is identical, but because everyone believes they belong.

The future of Ethiopia depends on shifting our focus from asking, “Who are we?” to asking, “What kind of country do we want to build together?”

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3. From a sociological perspective, how can inclusive dialogue transform historical grievances into reconciliation and peaceful coexistence?

Every society carries historical memories. The challenge is whether history becomes a bridge to understanding or a weapon for continued conflict.

Sociologically, reconciliation does not require forgetting the past; it requires understanding it together.

Nations are built on what people decide to forget as much as it is built on what people decide to remember together.

Inclusive dialogue allows competing narratives to be acknowledged without denying each other’s pain.

Recognition itself is a powerful step toward healing.

When people listen with empathy rather than hostility, they begin to distinguish between historical injustice and contemporary coexistence.

The goal is not to agree on every interpretation of history but to agree that the future should not be held hostage by the past.

A mature society develops institutions and dialogue mechanisms that transform disagreement into democratic debate instead of violence.

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4. Why are trust, social inclusion, and citizen participation essential to National Dialogue and sustainable development?

Development is ultimately a social process before it becomes an economic one.

Roads, dams, industries, and technology require something deeper to succeed: trust.

Societies with high social capital cooperate more effectively, resolve disputes peacefully, invest confidently, and innovate collectively.

When citizens feel excluded, development projects lose legitimacy.

When people feel ownership, they become partners rather than spectators.

National Dialogue therefore strengthens development by strengthening relationships between people.

Trust reduces the cost of conflict.

Inclusion increases collective ownership.

Participation improves policy legitimacy.

Social capital becomes the invisible infrastructure that supports economic growth, democratic governance, and lasting peace.

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5. How can Ethiopia’s National Dialogue lay the foundation for a renewed social contract between citizens and the state?

A social contract is an unwritten agreement about the responsibilities citizens owe the state and the responsibilities the state owes its citizens.

For Ethiopia, National Dialogue offers an opportunity to renew this relationship.

Citizens expect justice, equality before the law, accountability, constitutional governance, security, and equal opportunities.

The state, in turn, expects responsible citizenship, peaceful political participation, respect for democratic institutions, and commitment to national unity.

Mutual trust grows when both sides fulfill these responsibilities consistently.

Ultimately, the success of National Dialogue will not be measured only by the documents it produces but by whether it changes how Ethiopians relate to one another and to their state.

A renewed social contract means moving from mutual suspicion to mutual responsibility.

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Concluding Statement

“From a sociological perspective, National Dialogue is not merely a political exercise; it is a nation-building process. Its purpose is to rebuild trust, strengthen social cohesion, cultivate an inclusive Ethiopian identity, renew the social contract between citizens and the state, and transform diversity from a source of division into a foundation for collective prosperity.

Ethiopia’s future will not be determined by whether we have differences—every nation does. It will be determined by how we manage those differences. Through dialogue, democratic institutions, mutual respect, and a shared commitment to the common good, we can build a political community in which every citizen feels they belong, trusts both fellow citizens and public institutions, and believes that our diversity is a source of strength rather than conflict. That is the Ethiopia we should strive to build.

And I believe that is why the national dialogue is aiming for!

Why Human Beings Invented the State

The Intellectual Foundations of State Building and Nation Building

Good morning, distinguished guests, colleagues, ladies and gentlemen.

It is a great honor to speak to you today on one of the most important political questions confronting not only Ethiopia but humanity itself: How do we build a nation?

This question has become increasingly relevant in contemporary Ethiopia. Politicians debate it. Scholars write about it. Journalists discuss it. Citizens argue about it on social media and in coffee houses. Yet, despite its frequent use, the phrase nation building often means different things to different people.

For some, nation building means strengthening national unity. For others, it means recognizing diversity. Some associate it with state power, while others see it as a cultural project. These differing interpretations often produce more confusion than clarity.

Before we can meaningfully discuss nation building, we must first answer a much more fundamental question:

Why do human beings need a state at all?

This question may appear simple, but it has occupied some of history’s greatest thinkers for more than two thousand years. Philosophers, historians, economists, sociologists, and political scientists have all sought to explain why states emerged, why they differ across societies, and why some endure while others collapse.

Today, I invite you to journey with me through that intellectual history.

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The World Before States

Imagine a world without governments.

There are no ministries, no police, no courts, no constitutions, no taxation, no passports, no elections, no universities established by governments, and no armies defending national borders.

Could human beings survive?

The answer is yes.

For nearly 95 percent of human history, they did exactly that.

Modern humans have existed for approximately 300,000 years. Yet the modern state is a remarkably recent invention. The earliest recognizable states appeared only about 5,000 years ago in places such as Mesopotamia, ancient Egypt, the Indus Valley, and China. This means that for hundreds of thousands of years, human beings organized their lives without anything resembling today’s governments.

Anthropologists tell us that our earliest ancestors lived in small bands of hunters and gatherers. These groups rarely exceeded fifty or sixty individuals. Leadership was informal. Decisions were often made collectively. Social order depended not on written law but on kinship, custom, and mutual dependence.

In such societies, there was little inequality because there was little accumulated wealth. People moved frequently, following food and water. Since they owned little property, conflicts over resources remained relatively limited.

But history did not stand still.

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The Agricultural Revolution

Roughly twelve thousand years ago, one of the most significant transformations in human history occurred: the Agricultural Revolution.

Instead of wandering in search of food, human beings began cultivating crops and domesticating animals.

This simple change transformed everything.

Agriculture allowed permanent settlements.

Permanent settlements produced villages.

Villages expanded into towns.

Towns evolved into cities.

Cities required administration.

Population growth created new forms of cooperation, but it also generated new forms of conflict.

Land acquired value.

Property emerged.

Trade expanded.

Specialized occupations developed.

Some people became farmers.

Others became merchants.

Others became soldiers.

Others became priests.

Others became rulers.

Society became increasingly complex.

With complexity came problems that no family or tribe could solve alone.

Who would settle disputes?

Who would organize irrigation systems?

Who would defend communities against invasion?

Who would build roads?

Who would collect resources for common purposes?

These questions eventually gave birth to one of humanity’s greatest institutional innovations—the state.

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Why Did States Emerge?

Political scientists identify several reasons why states emerged.

The first was security.

Human beings naturally seek protection. A family can defend itself against another family. A clan may defend itself against another clan. But as populations grow, isolated groups become vulnerable to organized violence.

The state provided collective security by concentrating coercive power under one authority.

The second reason was order.

Economic life cannot flourish amid constant violence. Farmers must know they will harvest what they plant. Merchants must know they can travel safely. Families must trust that disputes will be resolved peacefully rather than through endless revenge.

The state gradually monopolized the legitimate use of force so that private violence would decline.

Third, states emerged to provide collective goods.

Large irrigation systems, roads, bridges, ports, markets, and defensive walls required organization beyond the capacity of individual households.

Economists call these public goods—benefits that everyone enjoys but that individuals acting alone often cannot efficiently provide.

Fourth, states facilitated economic development.

Markets require predictable rules.

Contracts require enforcement.

Property rights require protection.

Currency requires regulation.

Without institutions, economic growth remains limited.

Finally, states helped create political stability.

Instead of relying entirely on kinship, modern societies gradually developed institutions capable of governing millions of strangers.

The remarkable achievement of the state is not merely that it governs people. It enables strangers to cooperate peacefully on a massive scale.

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The Social Contract

One of the most influential explanations for the origin of the state comes from what political philosophers call social contract theory.

Although they disagreed on many issues, three philosophers fundamentally shaped this tradition: Thomas Hobbes, John Locke, and Jean-Jacques Rousseau.

Hobbes wrote during the English Civil War, a period of extraordinary violence. Observing civil conflict, he concluded that without a strong sovereign authority, society would descend into perpetual insecurity. In his famous work Leviathan, he described life without government as “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”

His solution was straightforward. Individuals voluntarily surrender part of their freedom to a central authority capable of maintaining peace.

Locke offered a more optimistic vision.

He believed human beings possess natural rights that exist before governments. The state’s primary purpose is not to dominate society but to protect life, liberty, and property. Governments therefore derive legitimacy from the consent of the governed rather than divine authority.

Rousseau introduced another profound idea.

He argued that legitimate political authority rests upon what he called the “general will”—the collective interest of citizens rather than the preferences of kings or aristocrats.

Although these philosophers reached different conclusions, they agreed on one essential point:

The state exists to solve problems that individuals cannot solve alone.

That insight remains as relevant today as it was three centuries ago.

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Max Weber and the Modern State

No scholar has influenced our understanding of the modern state more profoundly than Max Weber.

Writing in the early twentieth century, Weber observed that many institutions use force—families discipline children, communities punish wrongdoers, and armed groups employ violence. What distinguishes the state is not simply that it uses force, but that it claims the legitimate monopoly over the use of force within a defined territory.

Notice the importance of the word legitimate.

A criminal gang may possess weapons.

A rebel movement may control territory.

A militia may enforce rules.

Yet none becomes a state merely by possessing coercive power.

For Weber, what makes the state unique is that society generally recognizes its authority as legitimate.

Weber also identified three sources of political legitimacy:

• Traditional authority, based on customs and long-established practices.

• Charismatic authority, resting on the exceptional qualities of a leader.

• Rational-legal authority, grounded in laws, constitutions, and institutions.

Modern democratic states rely primarily on rational-legal legitimacy. Citizens obey not because they fear a ruler or revere a monarch, but because they accept the legitimacy of constitutional institutions.

This insight carries profound implications for contemporary Ethiopia.

A government may possess military strength, but if citizens no longer regard its authority as legitimate, the state’s stability becomes fragile. Conversely, governments enjoying broad legitimacy often require less coercion because compliance is based on trust rather than fear.

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Excellent. In a real manuscript, this would flow directly from the previous section without interruption. Below is Lecture II, written in the same keynote style.

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Lecture II

State Building: Institutions, Power, and Legitimacy

“A state may be born in a day, but building a capable state takes generations.”

Ladies and gentlemen,

In our previous discussion, we asked a fundamental question: Why did human beings invent the state? We saw that the state emerged as a solution to collective problems—security, justice, public order, and cooperation.

Today we move one step further.

A state may exist on paper. It may have a flag, a constitution, and international recognition. Yet none of these guarantees that it can actually govern. The true challenge is not merely creating a state; it is building one.

Political scientists call this state building.

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What is State Building?

State building is the process through which a political authority develops the institutions, capacity, and legitimacy necessary to govern effectively.

State building is not about constructing government buildings. Nor is it simply about writing constitutions or holding elections.

It is about building institutions that outlive individuals.

In many developing countries, governments change, ministers change, political parties change, yet institutions remain weak. When institutions are weak, governance becomes dependent upon personalities rather than rules.

Strong states are institutional.

Weak states are personal.

This distinction is perhaps one of the greatest lessons political science offers us.

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State Capacity

One of the most influential contemporary scholars on this subject is Francis Fukuyama.

Fukuyama argues that political order depends on three interconnected pillars:

• A capable state

• The rule of law

• Democratic accountability

Many countries have elections without capable governments.

Others have capable governments without accountability.

Some have laws that exist only on paper.

Political development requires all three.

A capable state is one that can actually implement its decisions.

Can it collect taxes?

Can it educate children?

Can it vaccinate millions?

Can it build roads?

Can it maintain peace?

Can it enforce court decisions?

Can it provide services equally throughout its territory?

These questions measure state capacity more accurately than constitutions or speeches.

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Max Weber: Bureaucracy as the Engine of the Modern State

Returning to Weber, we find another important contribution.

Weber argued that the modern state’s greatest invention was not simply the army.

It was bureaucracy.

Today the word “bureaucracy” often carries negative connotations.

People associate it with delays, paperwork, and inefficiency.

Weber meant something very different.

For him, bureaucracy represented rational organization.

Officials are appointed because of competence rather than family connections.

Promotion depends upon merit.

Rules apply equally.

Records are kept systematically.

Authority belongs to offices rather than individuals.

A minister leaves office.

The ministry continues.

A president completes a term.

The constitution remains.

Civil servants retire.

The institution survives.

This continuity distinguishes states from kingdoms built solely upon personal loyalty.

History demonstrates that countries become prosperous not merely because they elect good leaders but because they establish competent institutions.

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Charles Tilly: War Made the State

Another major contribution comes from the American sociologist Charles Tilly.

His famous statement—

“War made the state, and the state made war.”

—is among the most influential arguments in comparative politics.

How should we understand it?

During medieval Europe, hundreds of kingdoms competed with one another.

Those unable to organize armies disappeared.

Those unable to collect taxes collapsed.

Those incapable of administration were conquered.

To survive, rulers had to build institutions.

Armies required money.

Money required taxation.

Taxation required bureaucracy.

Bureaucracy required record keeping.

Record keeping required education.

Education expanded administration.

Gradually, governments became increasingly sophisticated.

Ironically, war unintentionally stimulated state development.

This does not mean war is desirable.

Rather, Tilly explains why European states developed unusually strong administrative institutions.

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Why Africa Followed a Different Path

Africa’s historical experience differed profoundly.

Most contemporary African states did not gradually emerge through centuries of internal political competition.

Instead, colonial powers largely imposed modern state boundaries.

Colonial governments designed institutions primarily to extract resources rather than cultivate accountable citizenship.

Consequently, many newly independent African countries inherited borders before they inherited national identities.

In Europe, many nations gradually produced states.

In Africa, many states inherited multiple nations.

This historical difference helps explain why nation building has become such an important political project across the continent.

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Michael Mann: Two Forms of State Power

Another influential scholar, Michael Mann, offers a useful distinction between despotic power and infrastructural power.

Despotic power refers to the ability of rulers to issue commands without consultation.

Infrastructural power refers to the state’s ability to implement decisions throughout society.

The difference is enormous.

A dictator may issue orders every day.

But if schools cannot teach, courts cannot function, roads cannot be maintained, taxes cannot be collected, and public health cannot reach villages, the state remains weak.

Strong states do not simply command.

They deliver.

This distinction reminds us that effectiveness matters as much as authority.

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Joel Migdal: Strong Societies, Weak States

Political scientist Joel Migdal challenged another common assumption.

He observed that many developing countries possess governments but not necessarily governing states.

Why?

Because other institutions compete with the state.

These include:

• Traditional authorities

• Religious institutions

• Clan systems

• Ethnic organizations

• Armed groups

• Business networks

In some societies, citizens trust these institutions more than government.

Migdal therefore described many countries as possessing strong societies but weak states.

This framework is particularly useful for understanding many African and Middle Eastern countries where customary institutions remain influential alongside formal government.

Rather than viewing these institutions as enemies, wise governments often seek constructive partnerships with them.

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What Makes a Strong State?

Political scientists generally identify several characteristics.

A strong state possesses:

First, legitimacy.

Citizens voluntarily recognize its authority.

Second, capacity.

Government decisions can actually be implemented.

Third, professionalism.

Appointments depend primarily upon competence.

Fourth, impartiality.

The law applies equally.

Fifth, accountability.

Public officials remain answerable to citizens.

Sixth, adaptability.

Institutions learn from changing circumstances rather than remaining rigid.

Notice something important.

None of these characteristics depends primarily upon wealth.

Some wealthy countries possess weak institutions.

Some relatively poor countries possess remarkably effective governments.

Institutions matter.

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State Building Is Never Finished

One common misunderstanding deserves attention.

People often imagine state building as a project completed once independence is achieved or a constitution adopted.

History teaches otherwise.

State building never truly ends.

Every generation reforms institutions.

Every technological revolution changes governance.

Every demographic transformation creates new challenges.

Digital government.

Artificial intelligence.

Climate change.

Urbanization.

Cybersecurity.

Migration.

Each requires institutional adaptation.

A successful state is therefore not one that never changes.

It is one capable of continuous learning.

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State Building and Ethiopia

Let us now turn briefly toward Ethiopia.

Ethiopia occupies a distinctive place in African political history.

Unlike many African countries, Ethiopia possesses a long tradition of indigenous statehood.

Successive kingdoms developed systems of taxation, administration, diplomacy, military organization, and legal authority centuries before the colonial partition of Africa.

However, the modern Ethiopian state also expanded territorially during the nineteenth century, incorporating numerous peoples with different languages, political traditions, and historical experiences.

Consequently, Ethiopia inherited a dual challenge.

The first challenge was building an effective state.

The second was building a shared political community among diverse nations and peoples.

These are related but fundamentally different projects.

A government may successfully collect taxes without creating national solidarity.

Likewise, people may feel profound cultural solidarity while lacking effective governing institutions.

The distinction between state building and nation building therefore becomes essential.

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The Bridge to Nation Building

This brings us to perhaps the most important insight of today’s lecture.

State building answers the question:

Who governs?

Nation building answers a different question:

Who are “we”?

State building creates institutions.

Nation building creates belonging.

State building establishes authority.

Nation building creates solidarity.

State building produces governments.

Nation building produces citizens who see themselves as members of a common political community.

History demonstrates that successful societies require both.

Without capable institutions, societies descend into disorder.

Without shared political identity, institutions struggle to command trust and legitimacy.

This realization brings us to the central subject of our next lecture.

What exactly is a nation?

How do nations emerge?

Are nations ancient, or are they modern inventions?

Can a state contain multiple nations?

Can one nation exist across several states?

What is nationalism?

And perhaps most importantly for Ethiopia:

Can a deeply diverse society build a common national future without erasing the identities that make it diverse?

Lecture III (Part A)

Nation, Nationalism, and Nation Building

Who Are “We”?

“The strength of a state depends not only on its institutions, but also on the willingness of its people to imagine themselves as members of the same political community.”

Distinguished ladies and gentlemen,

During our previous lectures, we explored one of humanity’s greatest inventions—the state. We saw why human societies gradually abandoned purely kinship-based organization and created political institutions capable of governing large populations. We also examined how states develop institutions, bureaucracies, legitimacy, and administrative capacity.

Today, however, we encounter a different question.

Even if a state possesses an efficient bureaucracy, a capable military, and an effective legal system, another challenge remains:

Who are the people that constitute the political community?

This is not a legal question.

It is a sociological question.

It is also a psychological question.

The answer leads us to one of the most influential concepts in modern political science—the nation.

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The Difference Between a State and a Nation

Throughout the world, people frequently confuse these two concepts.

They speak of “the Ethiopian nation,” “the Ethiopian state,” or “the Ethiopian government” as though these words were interchangeable.

They are not.

A government is the group of individuals temporarily exercising political authority.

A state is the permanent political institution possessing sovereignty over a territory and population.

A nation, by contrast, is a community of people who believe they belong together.

This distinction is fundamental.

Governments can fall overnight.

States may survive revolutions.

Nations often outlive both.

For example, governments in Ethiopia have changed repeatedly—from imperial rule to military rule, from military rule to the federal republic—yet the Ethiopian state has continued to exist through institutional transformation. At the same time, multiple national identities have endured across changing political systems.

This observation immediately raises another question.

If nations are not governments and not states, what exactly are they?

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Ernest Renan: A Nation Is a Daily Choice

One of the earliest modern answers came from the French historian and philosopher Ernest Renan.

In 1882, Renan delivered a famous lecture entitled What Is a Nation?

His answer surprised many of his contemporaries.

A nation, he argued, is not defined by race.

It is not determined by language alone.

It is not created simply by religion.

Nor is it explained solely by geography.

Instead, Renan proposed that a nation rests on two foundations.

The first is a shared memory of the past.

The second is the present willingness to continue living together.

He famously described the nation as “a daily plebiscite.”

This phrase deserves careful reflection.

Renan did not literally mean that citizens vote every morning on whether their nation should continue to exist.

Rather, he meant that nations endure because successive generations continue choosing to belong to the same political community.

In other words, nations are sustained by ongoing political commitment rather than biology.

This insight has profound implications.

If nations are maintained through collective commitment, then nation building is not merely about preserving history.

It is equally about building a shared future.

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Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities

Perhaps no modern scholar has influenced nationalism studies more profoundly than Benedict Anderson.

In his landmark book Imagined Communities, Anderson proposed one of the most influential definitions of the nation.

He described the nation as an imagined political community.

The word imagined has often been misunderstood.

Anderson did not mean that nations are fictional or false.

Rather, he observed an undeniable sociological reality.

No citizen can personally know millions of fellow citizens.

An Ethiopian will never meet most Ethiopians.

An Indian will never know most Indians.

A Canadian will never meet most Canadians.

Yet despite this, citizens often experience a profound sense of common membership.

How is this possible?

Because nations exist in the imagination of their members.

Citizens imagine themselves connected through common symbols, institutions, history, and collective identity.

Flags.

National anthems.

Maps.

School textbooks.

National holidays.

Shared historical narratives.

Sporting events.

Military service.

Public ceremonies.

These institutions help transform strangers into fellow citizens.

According to Anderson, one of the greatest forces behind this transformation was what he called print capitalism.

As newspapers and books became widely available, millions of people began reading the same stories in the same language.

For the first time, people who had never met began imagining themselves participating in the same national conversation.

The nation, therefore, emerged not merely through political power but also through communication.

Today we might extend Anderson’s argument.

If newspapers contributed to nation building in the nineteenth century, social media increasingly shapes national imagination in the twenty-first.

The question, however, is whether digital media strengthens shared identity or fragments it into competing narratives.

That remains one of the defining political questions of our age.

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Ernest Gellner: Nations Are Products of Modernity

Another influential explanation comes from the philosopher and sociologist Ernest Gellner.

Unlike scholars who viewed nations as ancient communities, Gellner argued that nationalism is largely a product of modern industrial society.

Agrarian societies, he observed, tolerated substantial cultural diversity.

Villages spoke different dialects.

Customs varied from one region to another.

Literacy remained limited.

Industrial society changed these conditions dramatically.

Factories required standardized education.

Modern economies required mobile workers.

Governments required citizens capable of communicating through common administrative systems.

Mass education therefore became one of the most powerful nation-building institutions ever created.

Schools did more than teach mathematics.

They taught common history.

They standardized language.

They transmitted national symbols.

They cultivated civic identity.

In Gellner’s famous formulation:

“Nationalism is not the awakening of nations to self-consciousness; it invents nations where they do not exist.”

This statement has generated considerable debate.

Some critics argue that Gellner underestimates the importance of historical memory.

Others believe he correctly explains why nationalism became politically dominant only in the modern era.

Regardless of where one stands, his central insight remains influential:

Modern states often help create modern nations.

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Anthony D. Smith: Nations Have Deep Historical Roots

Not everyone accepted Gellner’s argument.

The British historian Anthony D. Smith argued that although modern nationalism is indeed recent, it frequently builds upon much older cultural communities.

According to Smith, nations often emerge from earlier ethnies—historical populations sharing myths of origin, collective memories, symbols, traditions, and attachments to territory.

Modern nationalism does not create identity from nothing.

Rather, it reshapes older identities into modern political communities.

Smith’s theory, known as ethno-symbolism, helps explain why ancient historical narratives continue to influence contemporary politics.

People are rarely inspired solely by constitutions.

They are also inspired by stories.

Heroes.

Sacred places.

Collective victories.

Collective suffering.

Shared memories.

These symbols give emotional depth to political identity.

Consequently, successful nation building cannot ignore historical memory.

But neither can it become imprisoned by history.

A nation must remember enough to know who it is, while forgetting enough to live together peacefully.

Renan himself recognized this paradox when he observed that forgetting certain historical conflicts is often as important as remembering shared achievements.

This does not imply denying history.

Rather, it suggests that nations selectively emphasize memories that enable future coexistence.

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Nationalism: A Double-Edged Force

The word nationalism often provokes strong reactions.

For some, nationalism represents liberation.

For others, it evokes exclusion and conflict.

History supports both perspectives.

Nationalism helped dismantle colonial empires across Africa and Asia.

It inspired anti-colonial movements demanding self-determination and political equality.

Yet nationalism has also fueled ethnic cleansing, expansionist wars, and violent exclusion.

Nationalism itself is therefore neither inherently good nor inherently bad.

Its consequences depend upon how national identity is defined and practiced.

Political theorists often distinguish between two broad forms.

Civic Nationalism

Civic nationalism defines membership primarily through citizenship.

Individuals belong because they share political values, constitutional principles, and equal legal rights.

Citizenship—not ancestry—is the principal criterion.

Countries such as Canada and, in many respects, United States have emphasized this approach, although neither is free from historical contradictions.

Ethnic Nationalism

Ethnic nationalism defines membership primarily through shared ancestry, language, culture, or historical origin.

Here, political identity is closely linked to ethnic community.

This form can strengthen cultural preservation and collective solidarity, but it may also create challenges for societies composed of multiple historic communities if institutions fail to protect equality and inclusion.

Most real-world states combine civic and cultural elements rather than fitting neatly into one category.

Understanding that complexity is essential before turning to the next question:

How do nations and states combine?

Not every nation possesses its own state.

Not every state contains only one nation.

Indeed, the relationship between nation and state is far more diverse than many people assume.

Lecture III (Part B)

The Many Relationships Between Nations and States

Ladies and gentlemen,

Having examined what scholars mean by a nation, we are now prepared to ask a more difficult question:

How do nations and states relate to one another?

Many people unconsciously assume that every country consists of one nation and every nation possesses one state. This assumption is understandable because we often use terms such as nation, country, and state interchangeably.

Comparative politics tells a different story.

There is no single model.

Human history has produced numerous combinations between nations and states. Appreciating this diversity is essential because it reminds us that no country—including Ethiopia—should be analyzed through only one historical experience.

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The Classical Nation-State

The model most familiar to Europeans is the nation-state.

A nation-state exists when one dominant national community largely coincides with one sovereign political state.

In theory, the political boundaries and the national community overlap.

This model became especially influential during nineteenth-century Europe.

The rise of nationalism encouraged the belief that every nation should possess its own state and every state should represent one nation.

Countries such as Japan and Iceland are often cited as relatively close examples. Although minorities certainly exist, a broad cultural and linguistic majority forms the principal national identity.

Yet even these countries are not perfectly homogeneous.

Every modern state contains diversity.

The nation-state is therefore better understood as an ideal type than as a perfect empirical reality.

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The Multinational State

Far more common throughout the contemporary world is the multinational state.

Here, one sovereign state contains several historically distinct national communities.

Rather than asking citizens to abandon their identities, multinational states seek to organize political life within a shared constitutional framework.

Examples include:

• India

• Switzerland

• Belgium

• United Kingdom

• Ethiopia

Each demonstrates that multiple nations can coexist within a single sovereign state, although they adopt different institutional arrangements.

The central political challenge is not whether diversity exists.

It is how diversity is governed.

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The Stateless Nation

History also contains many nations that possess a strong collective identity but lack an independent sovereign state.

Political scientists refer to these as stateless nations.

Perhaps the best-known example is the Kurds.

Despite sharing language, historical memory, and a strong sense of common identity, Kurdish populations remain divided among several sovereign states.

Similarly, the Palestinian people developed a strong national identity long before establishing limited self-government.

The existence of stateless nations reminds us that nationhood does not depend upon possessing a recognized state.

People may feel profoundly united even in the absence of sovereignty.

⸻

The Multi-State Nation

The opposite situation also exists.

Sometimes a single nation is distributed across several independent states.

This often reflects colonial borders rather than cultural boundaries.

The Somali people, for example, live primarily in Somalia but also in parts of Ethiopia, Kenya, and Djibouti.

Likewise, Kurdish populations span multiple Middle Eastern countries.

These examples remind us that political borders rarely coincide perfectly with cultural geography.

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Civic States

Some states define political membership primarily through citizenship.

In civic states, constitutional principles rather than ethnicity provide the principal basis for political belonging.

Citizens may speak different languages.

They may belong to different religions.

They may descend from different historical communities.

Yet they recognize one another as members of the same political community because they share equal citizenship.

This model is often associated with countries such as Canada and, to an important extent, United States.

It emphasizes equality before the law, constitutional loyalty, and shared democratic institutions.

Citizenship becomes the common denominator.

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Ethnic National States

Other states derive much of their national identity from one dominant historical community.

Here, national symbols, historical narratives, language, or public institutions are closely associated with a particular ethnic nation.

This does not necessarily imply discrimination, nor does it automatically exclude minorities.

However, it raises important questions regarding inclusion, equal citizenship, and the accommodation of diversity.

Many countries contain elements of both civic and ethnic identity.

The distinction is analytical rather than absolute.

⸻

Plurinational States

A more recent constitutional innovation is the plurinational state.

Unlike traditional multinational states, plurinational constitutions explicitly recognize that several nations coexist within one sovereign state.

Perhaps the most frequently cited example is Bolivia, whose constitution formally recognizes numerous Indigenous nations as constituent parts of the state.

Such arrangements seek neither complete assimilation nor political separation.

Instead, they acknowledge multiple national communities within a common constitutional order.

Whether these systems succeed depends less upon constitutional language than upon political practice, trust, and institutional effectiveness.

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Federal Multinational States

Another important institutional arrangement is the federal multinational state.

Federalism distributes authority between the central government and regional governments.

When federal units reflect historic national communities, federalism becomes one mechanism for accommodating diversity.

Examples include:

• India

• Belgium

• Ethiopia

However, federalism itself does not guarantee success.

Federal institutions can strengthen unity by allowing diversity to flourish peacefully.

They can also deepen division if political competition becomes organized exclusively around identity.

Institutional design matters.

Political culture matters even more.

⸻

Consociational Democracy

In deeply divided societies, some scholars advocate consociational democracy, a model most closely associated with political scientist Arend Lijphart.

Rather than expecting one majority permanently to govern, consociational systems encourage power sharing among major communities.

Common features include:

• Grand coalition governments.

• Mutual vetoes on vital interests.

• Proportional representation.

• Group autonomy in selected areas.

Countries such as Switzerland and, to varying degrees, Belgium have incorporated aspects of this model.

Lijphart argued that stable democracy in divided societies often requires cooperation among elites as much as electoral competition.

⸻

There Is No Universal Model

What lesson should we draw from this comparative survey?

Simply this:

There is no universally correct relationship between nation and state.

History has produced many successful political arrangements.

Some countries pursue assimilation.

Others emphasize multiculturalism.

Some adopt federalism.

Others remain unitary.

Some define political membership primarily through citizenship.

Others recognize historic national communities within constitutional structures.

Political institutions should therefore be evaluated not by whether they imitate another country’s model, but by whether they promote peace, justice, legitimacy, and effective governance in their own historical context.

Comparative politics encourages humility.

Countries do not become successful by copying institutions mechanically.

Institutions must fit history, culture, and political realities.

⸻

Nation Building: A Different Project from State Building

This brings us to perhaps the most important distinction of the entire lecture.

State building and nation building are related, but they are not the same.

A state may possess an effective army, an efficient bureaucracy, independent courts, and stable public finances.

Yet its citizens may still distrust one another.

Conversely, a people may possess a profound sense of shared identity while lacking capable governing institutions.

State building creates the machinery of government.

Nation building creates the emotional, moral, and political bonds that persuade millions of strangers to cooperate within that machinery.

To put it differently:

A passport may tell us which state we belong to.

Nation building seeks to answer why we feel that we belong together.

It is therefore one of the most ambitious political projects humanity has ever attempted.

It cannot be achieved by legislation alone.

Nor can it be imposed through military power.

It is built gradually—through education, shared experiences, inclusive institutions, equitable development, public trust, and a constitutional order that allows diverse communities to see themselves reflected in the common state.

This insight leads naturally to our final and most important discussion.

How has Ethiopia attempted to build not only a state, but also a shared political community?

What lessons does Ethiopian history offer?

What have been its achievements?

Where have tensions emerged?

And what might a more inclusive vision of nation building look like for the twenty-first century?

Lecture IV

Nation Building in Ethiopia:

History, Competing Narratives, and the Search for a Shared Political Community

Distinguished guests,

We have now reached the final and perhaps the most important part of our discussion.

During our first lecture, we explored why human beings invented the state. We concluded that the state emerged to solve collective problems—security, justice, order, and cooperation.

In the second lecture, we examined how states are built. We learned from Weber that legitimacy matters as much as coercion; from Tilly that institutions emerge through history rather than by accident; and from Fukuyama that capable institutions are indispensable for development.

In our third lecture, we turned from institutions to identity. We examined how Renan, Anderson, Gellner, and Anthony D. Smith explained the emergence of nations. We distinguished between states and nations and explored the many different ways they combine across the world.

Today we bring these ideas home.

Our question is not simply What is Ethiopia?

Our question is:

How should we understand Ethiopia’s nation-building project through the lens of comparative political science?

This distinction is important because Ethiopia is often discussed as though it were unique and therefore beyond comparison. Certainly, Ethiopia possesses a remarkable history. Yet its fundamental political questions—state formation, diversity, citizenship, legitimacy, and national identity—are questions that many societies have confronted.

Comparative politics does not eliminate disagreement, but it allows us to replace slogans with analysis.

⸻

Is Ethiopia an Ancient State?

Few propositions generate less disagreement than the claim that Ethiopia is one of the world’s oldest states.

Across many centuries, different political formations exercised authority over territories in the northern Horn of Africa. Kingdoms emerged, expanded, fragmented, and reconstituted themselves. Institutions of taxation, diplomacy, military organization, religious authority, and administration developed over long periods.

In this sense, Ethiopia possesses an unusually long tradition of statehood compared with many post-colonial African states.

This historical continuity deserves recognition.

Yet acknowledging the longevity of Ethiopian statehood does not resolve another question:

Did the historical state encompass all the peoples who today constitute Ethiopia?

The answer is more complex.

The territorial boundaries of the modern Ethiopian state largely took shape during the nineteenth century through military expansion, diplomacy, alliance-building, and negotiation under successive rulers. As a result, many communities with distinct political traditions became incorporated into a single expanding state.

This is not unusual.

France, Italy, Germany, India, China, and many other states also emerged through long processes of expansion, consolidation, and political integration.

The historical question, therefore, is not whether expansion occurred.

It is how different communities subsequently understood that process.

⸻

Competing Historical Narratives

Here we encounter one of the defining characteristics of Ethiopian politics.

Different communities often tell different stories about the same historical events.

One narrative emphasizes state formation, territorial consolidation, anti-colonial independence, and political continuity.

Another emphasizes conquest, incorporation, marginalization, and unequal power relations.

These narratives frequently appear mutually exclusive.

Yet comparative history suggests that both may contain elements of truth because political integration often produces both state consolidation and local resistance.

The historian’s task is not to choose comforting myths.

It is to understand complexity.

Successful nation building does not require every citizen to remember history identically.

It requires institutions capable of accommodating different memories while cultivating a shared future.

Ernest Renan observed that nations depend not only upon shared memories but also upon the willingness to continue living together.

This insight is especially relevant for diverse societies.

⸻

Ethiopia as a Multinational State

The constitutional order established in the early 1990s explicitly recognized Ethiopia as a federation composed of Nations, Nationalities, and Peoples.

Whether one supports or opposes this constitutional design, it represents an important attempt to answer a difficult political question:

How should a historically diverse society organize political authority?

From the perspective of comparative politics, Ethiopia belongs among multinational states.

Its experience can therefore be fruitfully compared with countries such as India, Switzerland, Belgium, and Canada, each of which has adopted different institutional strategies for managing diversity.

No model has eliminated political disagreement.

Yet each demonstrates that diversity itself does not inevitably produce instability.

Institutions matter.

Political leadership matters.

Economic opportunity matters.

Perhaps most importantly, trust matters.

⸻

State Building Is Not Nation Building

One of the recurring themes throughout this lecture has been the distinction between state building and nation building.

Ethiopia illustrates this distinction particularly well.

The country has long possessed state institutions.

It has maintained diplomatic relations.

It has defended sovereignty.

It has collected taxes.

It has administered justice in varying forms across different historical periods.

These are achievements of statehood.

Nation building, however, asks another question.

Do citizens from different historical communities increasingly regard one another as members of the same political community?

This question cannot be answered simply by examining constitutions.

It requires examining trust.

Shared citizenship.

Political participation.

Economic inclusion.

Educational opportunity.

Equal dignity.

These are the foundations upon which national belonging is constructed.

⸻

Benedict Anderson and the Ethiopian Imagination

Let us return briefly to Benedict Anderson.

Recall his argument that nations are imagined communities.

If nations are imagined, then nation building becomes partly the construction of a shared public imagination.

How do citizens imagine one another?

Do school textbooks present every community as contributing to the national story?

Do national symbols represent all citizens?

Do public institutions treat individuals equally regardless of language, religion, ethnicity, or region?

Do infrastructure projects physically connect communities?

Do economic opportunities encourage cooperation rather than competition?

These questions shape imagination every day.

Nation building therefore occurs not only in parliaments.

It occurs in classrooms.

Roads.

Markets.

Universities.

Sports fields.

Military academies.

Cultural festivals.

Digital platforms.

Every institution that brings citizens into meaningful cooperation contributes to nation building.

⸻

Gellner, Education, and Modern Citizenship

Ernest Gellner argued that modern nations depend heavily upon standardized education.

This observation deserves careful consideration.

Education is not simply the transmission of information.

It is also the transmission of civic culture.

Students learn history.

They learn constitutional principles.

They encounter fellow citizens from different backgrounds.

They acquire a common political vocabulary.

Education therefore shapes both competence and belonging.

This does not require suppressing cultural diversity.

Indeed, multilingual education can strengthen both local identity and national citizenship when designed thoughtfully.

The challenge is to cultivate citizens who feel at home in their own communities while also recognizing responsibility toward the larger political community.

⸻

Constitutional Patriotism

The German philosopher Jürgen Habermas introduced an idea particularly relevant for plural societies.

He argued that deeply diverse countries may cultivate what he called constitutional patriotism.

Citizens need not share identical ancestry, language, or religion.

Instead, they may develop loyalty toward constitutional principles:

Human dignity.

Equality before the law.

Democratic participation.

Fundamental rights.

Peaceful disagreement.

Constitutional patriotism does not replace cultural identity.

It provides a common political foundation upon which diverse identities can coexist.

For multinational societies, this idea offers an important possibility.

Unity need not require uniformity.

⸻

Lessons from Comparative Experience

Comparative politics teaches humility.

Switzerland demonstrates that multiple linguistic communities can sustain one stable state.

India demonstrates that extraordinary diversity can coexist with democratic institutions despite enormous challenges.

Canada illustrates ongoing negotiation between national unity and regional identity.

Singapore reminds us that competent institutions and economic inclusion can strengthen social cohesion in diverse societies.

Tanzania invested heavily in a shared civic identity while recognizing cultural diversity.

South Africa has sought to transform profound historical division through constitutional democracy, though its journey remains incomplete.

None of these experiences should be copied mechanically.

Every country’s history is unique.

But every country expands our political imagination.

⸻

Toward an Ethiopian Framework for Nation Building

If nation building is neither assimilation nor fragmentation, what principles might guide Ethiopia’s future?

I would suggest several.

First, capable institutions.

No nation can flourish without a state capable of delivering justice, security, and public services.

Second, equal citizenship.

Citizens must experience equal dignity regardless of identity.

Third, recognition.

Communities seek acknowledgement of their history, language, and culture.

Recognition strengthens legitimacy when combined with equality.

Fourth, economic integration.

Shared prosperity often builds stronger political solidarity than political slogans.

Roads, markets, universities, and technology connect citizens in practical ways.

Fifth, civic education.

Schools should cultivate informed citizens capable of democratic disagreement without political violence.

Finally, trust.

Trust cannot be legislated.

It grows slowly through fair institutions, responsible leadership, and repeated cooperation.

Without trust, constitutions remain fragile.

With trust, even imperfect institutions can endure.

⸻

Conclusion

Ladies and gentlemen,

Permit me to conclude where we began.

Human beings invented the state because they needed order.

They built institutions because they needed governance.

But states alone could not answer the deeper human question:

Who are we?

That question gave rise to nations.

Nation building therefore represents humanity’s continuing effort to transform millions of strangers into citizens who believe they share a common political destiny.

This process is never complete.

It evolves across generations.

It requires institutions.

It requires memory.

It requires justice.

It requires imagination.

And above all, it requires hope.

Ethiopia’s nation-building journey, like that of every diverse society, will continue to generate debate.

Debate should not be feared.

Indeed, respectful disagreement is itself evidence that citizens care deeply about their common future.

The challenge before Ethiopians is not to eliminate diversity.

Nor is it to erase history.

The challenge is to build a political community in which diversity becomes a source of strength rather than division; where citizenship complements identity rather than competing with it; and where every generation chooses, in Ernest Renan’s memorable words, to renew the nation’s “daily plebiscite.”

Allow me to end with one final thought.

A state gives people security.

A nation gives people belonging.

Nation building gives a society a future.

Thank you.

The modern history of Ethio–Eritrean relations cannot be understood without examining the strategic rivalry that developed around the Red Sea and the Nile Basin in the nineteenth century.

In 1865, Egypt under Khedive Ismail occupied Massawa after acquiring it from the Ottoman Empire. Egypt’s broader objective was not merely control of the Red Sea coast but the construction of a vast African empire extending toward the sources of the Nile. To achieve this, Egyptian forces launched military campaigns against Ethiopia. However, Ethiopian armies decisively defeated Egypt at the Battles of Gundet (1875) and Gura (1876), ending Egypt’s ambitions to conquer the Ethiopian highlands by force.

As Egypt’s influence declined, Italy emerged as a new colonial actor in the region. In 1869, an Italian company acquired Assab. Italy later occupied Massawa in 1885 and formally established the colony of Eritrea in 1890. For the first time in history, the northern Red Sea coast was politically separated from the Ethiopian highlands and incorporated into a European colonial empire.

2. Colonial Rule and Federation (1890–1962)

Eritrea remained under Italian colonial administration until Italy’s defeat during World War II in 1941. Following a decade of British administration, the United Nations adopted a federal arrangement linking Eritrea with Ethiopia in 1952.

The federation granted Eritrea considerable autonomy while preserving Ethiopian sovereignty. However, tensions emerged over the distribution of power between Addis Ababa and Asmara. In 1962, Emperor Haile Selassie dissolved the federation and formally integrated Eritrea into Ethiopia.

This decision triggered an armed struggle that would last for three decades.

3. The Eritrean Armed Struggle and Regional Rivalries (1961–1991)

The Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF) was founded in Cairo in 1961, marking the beginning of Eritrea’s armed struggle for independence. During the Cold War, the Eritrean question became intertwined with broader regional rivalries involving Ethiopia, Sudan, Egypt, and various international actors.

Throughout the conflict, many Ethiopian analysts viewed Egypt’s support for Eritrean movements as part of a broader strategy aimed at weakening Ethiopia and limiting its capacity to challenge Egypt’s dominance over Nile affairs.

The armed struggle intensified during the Derg era, eventually leading to the emergence of the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) as the dominant Eritrean force. Simultaneously, the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) was fighting against the Derg regime in northern Ethiopia.

In May 1991, the EPLF captured Asmara while the TPLF-led coalition entered Addis Ababa, bringing an end to the Derg regime.

4. Eritrean Independence and Strategic Realignment (1991–1998)

Following a United Nations-supervised referendum in 1993, Eritrea formally achieved independence. Ethiopia became the world’s most populous landlocked country and lost direct sovereign access to the Red Sea.

Initially, relations between the new Eritrean government and the TPLF-led Ethiopian government were exceptionally close. Economic integration, security cooperation, and open borders characterized the early years of independence.

However, disagreements over borders, trade arrangements, and political influence gradually emerged.

5. The Border War and the Era of Hostility (1998–2018)

In 1998, disputes over the border town of Badme escalated into a devastating interstate war that lasted until 2000. Tens of thousands of people were killed, and relations between the two countries collapsed.

Although the Algiers Agreement formally ended the war, Ethiopia and Eritrea entered a prolonged period of “no war, no peace.” During this twenty-year stalemate, the two governments actively supported opposition groups against one another.

During this period, Eritrea became a hub for numerous Ethiopian opposition and armed movements. Egypt maintained close relations with Eritrea and was frequently accused by Ethiopian officials and analysts of supporting anti-government forces through Eritrean territory.

From Addis Ababa’s perspective, the emerging Egypt-Eritrea relationship reflected a broader geopolitical strategy aimed at keeping Ethiopia strategically constrained, particularly regarding Nile politics and maritime access.

6. The Ethiopian Political Transition and Peace with Eritrea (2018–2019)

In 2018, widespread public protests across Ethiopia led to a major political transition within the ruling Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF).

After Prime Minister Hailemariam Desalegn resigned, the EPRDF elected Dr. Abiy Ahmed as chairman in March 2018. In April, Abiy became Prime Minister and launched an ambitious reform agenda.

One of his most significant achievements was ending two decades of hostility with Eritrea. In July 2018, Ethiopia accepted the implementation of the Eritrea-Ethiopia Boundary Commission ruling, paving the way for peace.

The rapprochement fundamentally reshaped regional politics. On October 11, 2019, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed received the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts to normalize relations between Ethiopia and Eritrea.

The same year, the Prosperity Party was established, replacing the EPRDF coalition. The TPLF refused to join the new party and relations between Mekelle and Addis Ababa rapidly deteriorated.

7. The Tigray Conflict and Renewed Strategic Alignments (2020–2022)

Tensions between the Federal Government and the TPLF escalated throughout 2020.

Disputes over election postponements, constitutional authority, and political legitimacy culminated in the TPLF’s attack on the ENDF Northern Command on November 3, 2020. The Federal Government responded by launching a military operation in Tigray.

The conflict quickly expanded beyond Tigray and became one of the most destructive wars in modern Ethiopian history.

Eritrea entered the conflict on the side of the Ethiopian Federal Government, viewing the TPLF as a longstanding security threat. TPLF forces responded by launching missile attacks against Eritrean targets, including Asmara.

The war continued until November 2, 2022, when the Federal Government and the TPLF signed the Pretoria Peace Agreement under African Union mediation, ending large-scale hostilities.

8. Post-Pretoria Tensions and the Re-Emergence of Regional Rivalries (2022–Present)

The Pretoria Agreement transformed Ethiopia’s internal political landscape but also created new regional dynamics.

Following the peace agreement, relations between Ethiopia and Eritrea became increasingly strained. Eritrean officials expressed concerns over aspects of the Pretoria settlement and the future political trajectory of Tigray.

Internal divisions subsequently emerged within the TPLF itself, producing rival factions led by Debretsion Gebremichael and Getachew Reda. These divisions complicated implementation of the peace process and created new security concerns in northern Ethiopia.

At the same time, Ethiopia intensified its diplomatic campaign regarding maritime access and continued advancing its position on Nile issues, particularly in relation to the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD).

Meanwhile, Egypt and Eritrea strengthened their political and security cooperation. From the perspective of many Ethiopian analysts, this partnership reflects longstanding strategic concerns regarding Ethiopia’s growing regional influence, Nile policy, and aspirations for maritime access.

Conclusion

Ethio–Eritrean relations have undergone dramatic transformations over the past century and a half. The relationship has evolved from colonial separation and armed struggle to cooperation, war, reconciliation, and renewed uncertainty.

The Red Sea, the Nile, and the broader balance of power in the Horn of Africa have consistently shaped these dynamics. While periods of partnership have demonstrated the potential benefits of cooperation, recurring geopolitical rivalries continue to influence relations among Ethiopia, Eritrea, and regional actors such as Egypt.

Today, the future of Ethio–Eritrean relations remains central not only to the stability of the Horn of Africa but also to the wider geopolitical contest surrounding the Nile Basin and the Red Sea corridor.

Oromo politics carries a deep and painful contradiction. A people who struggled courageously for dignity, recognition, and political survival also developed a political culture that frequently turns inward against its own sons and daughters. One of the most destructive tendencies within segments of Oromo nationalism has been the habit of labeling Oromos who worked within Ethiopian state institutions, embraced alternative political visions, or refused strict ideological conformity as traitors, collaborators, “Gobana” “Neo-Gobana,” or even “non-Oromo.”

Lately, I learned that this mentality did not emerge entirely from indigenous political traditions. As Leencoo Lataa reflects in his authorized biography by Zufan Urga, parts of the early Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) drew strategic and organizational inspiration from Palestinian revolutionary movements and broader Marxist liberation doctrines of the 1960s and 1970s. This revolutionary traditions imported a rigid political language centered on ideological purity, betrayal, internal enemies, and moral absolutism.

I believe, we need to reflect on this political culture. Here critiquing should not be considered as a rejection of the Oromo struggle itself. The Oromo struggle emerged from real historical grievances and legitimate demands for equality, recognition, dignity, and justice. But every liberation movement eventually reaches a moment when it must critically examine its own internal contradictions. Some of the wounds weakening Oromo political life today, I believe stem not only from external domination, but also from inherited cultures of suspicion, exclusion, and ideological policing within Oromo politics itself.

The issue, therefore, is larger than any single Oromo organization. It concerns a broader political psychology that normalized internal denunciation as a form of nationalism and transformed disagreement into moral betrayal. Reflecting on this tradition and charting a way forward is the main objective of this piece.

Revolutionary Purism, Palestinian Influence, and the Birth of the “Internal Traitor” Syndrome

The 1960s and 1970s were decades of revolutionary romanticism across the Global South. Algeria, Palestine, Vietnam, Cuba, Maoist China, and Marxist liberation fronts inspired intellectuals and nationalist movements throughout Africa. Armed struggle came to be glorified not merely as a tactic, but as a moral identity. Political thinking increasingly hardened into rigid binaries: revolutionary versus reactionary, patriot versus traitor, liberation versus collaboration.

Within this atmosphere, Palestinian revolutionary organizations exerted enormous influence on liberation movements across Africa, not only militarily, but also ideologically, organizationally, and psychologically. According to Lencho’s recent account, early OLF leadership, much like the African National Congress (ANC), South West Africa People’s Organization (SWAPO), Mozambique Liberation Front (FRELIMO), Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA), Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU), and the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC), borrowed important elements from Palestinian revolutionary doctrine.

Central to that doctrine was the idea that enemies did not exist and therefore is not treated as a single external bloc. Rather, they were layered. The struggle targeted not only the primary outside adversary, but also internal actors considered collaborators, ideological obstacles, or enablers of domination. In the Palestinian context, revolutionary factions often directed their hostility not only toward Israel, but also toward Arab regimes and Arab political actors accused of compromise, accommodation, or betrayal.

Transferred into the Oromo political context, this logic appears to have produced a dangerous internal dynamic. Before confronting the Ethiopian state itself, sections of Oromo nationalism increasingly turned inward against Oromos associated with imperial institutions, Ethiopian unity politics, reformist approaches, or competing ideological tendencies.

A friend once shared with me a revealing political anecdote from the liberation era that captures this mentality vividly. According to the story, the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF), the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), and the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) allegedly met in Khartoum to define their principal enemies. The EPLF reportedly identified the Amhara ruling class as the principal enemy of the Eritrean people. The TPLF allegedly defined the Amhara broadly as Tigray’s central adversary. But sections of the OLF, the story claims, went further identifying not only the Amhara, but also “Shawa Oromo,” as enemies of the Oromo people.

Whether apocryphal, exaggerated, or partially true, the anecdote captures an uncomfortable political reality: within segments of Oromo nationalism, suspicion increasingly expanded inward until fellow Oromos themselves became objects of ideological hostility. The story survives not merely as satire, but as a window into a deeper political culture shaped by revolutionary absolutism, internal suspicion, and the gradual normalization of intra-Oromo delegitimization.

At the same time, Palestinian revolutionary influence intersected with the broader Marxist-Leninist political culture that dominated the Ethiopian student movement. Revolutionary language centered on class enemies, ideological purity, historical betrayal, and permanent struggle profoundly shaped political imagination across Ethiopian radical circles. Ethiopia’s complex historical realities were increasingly reduced into moral absolutes. Nuance disappeared beneath rigid categories of enemies and allies.

The end result was the expansion of “enemy consciousness” within Oromo society itself.

Gobana, Neo-Gobana, and the Politics of Delegitimization

Within this emerging political culture, Gobana Daccee was portrayed as the foundational symbol of internal betrayal. I personally spoke with early liberation leaders alive who acknowledged that this framing was deliberately employed for mobilization purposes. Over time, however, the label expanded far beyond its original historical context and evolved into a broader political weapon.

Oromos associated with Ethiopian state institutions, multinational Ethiopian politics, reformist engagement, or alternative strategic visions risked being portrayed not merely as politically mistaken, but as morally illegitimate and nationally suspect, ever since.

The tragedy was not simply political disagreement. The deeper problem was the assumption that one political tendency possessed exclusive authority to define authentic Oromoness itself. Against the original tradition of Oromo peoplehood that recognizes both biological and social base, Oromo politicians continued to romanticize blood purity (Oromoo qulqulluu).

Some activists and politicians even reached the point of claiming that Oromos who helped building the Ethiopian state could not truly be considered Oromo at all. Yet historically, Oromos participated in virtually every sphere of Ethiopian state formation including military leadership, imperial administration, civil service, diplomacy, commerce, education, academia, religion, and reform movements. Oromos were not merely victims of the Ethiopian state; they were also among its architects.

The Oromo experience within Ethiopia has always been historically layered and internally diverse. Some Oromo communities had been integrated into highland political systems long before the popular late nineteenth-century imperial expansion. Others entered state structures through military service, religion, trade, education, or regional administration. Many Oromo elites carried dual historical experiences. They participated in state-building while simultaneously experiencing exclusion and marginalization within that same state.

This complexity was often erased by revolutionary simplifications where participation is equated with oppression. Engagement is confused with collaboration. Reform is treated as surrender.

Exile politics has complicated and deepened these suspicions further. Oromos who remained inside Ethiopia and worked as civil servants, teachers, diplomats, military officers, or reform-minded professionals increasingly became objects of distrust among sections of the nationalist movement abroad. I personally know people who were bullied for visiting their country and relatives as recently as 2014/15.

The Cases of Haile Fida and Other Oromo Elites

The experiences of Haile Fida and many other Oromo elites reveal the destructive consequences of the “internal traitor” syndrome in both Oromo and Ethiopian politics.

Although the Oromo Liberation Front emerged earlier as an explicitly Oromo nationalist movement, Haile Fida developed considerable intellectual influence, organizational sophistication, and broader political reach through a Marxist-Ethiopian framework, as depicted in Leencoo’s recent biography. His political strategy differed from Oromo nationalist orthodoxy, yet his contributions to Oromo and Ethiopia political consciousness, education, and social transformation were undeniable.

However, rather than remaining within the bounds of legitimate ideological competition, sections of Oromo nationalist discourse increasingly portrayed Haile as mixed or insufficiently Oromo (“killisaadha”), politically compromised, insufficiently nationalist, or even a “Neo-Gobana.” Strategic disagreement gradually hardened into moral delegitimization.

The same pattern affected many Oromo intellectuals, reformers, technocrats, and political actors who pursued Oromo advancement through alternative methods, alliances, or institutional pathways, a tendency that continues even today.

Importantly, Tuulama Oromo elites carried a disproportionate burden of suspicion within segments of Oromo nationalist politics. Part of this stemmed from the historical reality that the Tuulama had long been deeply integrated into the Ethiopian state and played major roles in shaping it. In addition, because of this long integration, urbanization, and intermarriage, some Oromo nationalists came to view the Tuulama as somehow less “pure” or less authentically Oromo.

Yet the historical record is far more complex. Tuulama Oromo produced many of the statesmen, military leaders, and administrators who helped build modern Ethiopia. Figures such as Gobanaa Daccee, Habte Giyorgis Dinagde, Gebeyehu Gurmuu, Baalchaa Safoo, Mekonnen Gudisaa, Geresu Duki, and Tadesse Biru occupy important places in Ethiopian political and military history. Ironically, some of these same figures, particularly Baalchaa Safoo and Tadesse Biru, later broke with the Ethiopian state, while Tadesse Biru himself became one of the foundational inspirations of modern Oromo nationalism.

Nevertheless, the revolutionary political culture shaped partly by Palestinian-style liberation movements increasingly framed Oromos who worked within Ethiopian institutions not as historical actors navigating complex political realities, but as objects of suspicion and accusations of betrayal. In some circles today, they are still publicly dismissed as “slaves” or collaborators.

Over time, this culture of denunciation evolved into a broader political habit that turned inward against Oromo intellectuals, professionals, officials, and rival political voices across regions, classes, and ideological camps.

Once a political movement internalizes the doctrine that ideological deviation equals betrayal, every independent thinker becomes vulnerable to collective suspicion. In the Oromo context, this mentality also appears to have evolved into a political strategy for sidelining educated and institutionally experienced individuals from positions of social and political leadership.

The Human Costs of Revolutionary Absolutism

The consequences of revolutionary absolutism has been devastating worldwide.

In the Oromo context, tragic political assassinations, character assassinations, social exclusion, endless factionalism, and mutual suspicion weakened political cohesion for decades. The Oromo liberation struggle has weakened the unity it has forged and/or inherited through the rigid revolutionary absolutism it has adopted. Intellectuals, administrators, reformers, military officers, and experienced professionals who could have contributed to Oromo advancement were frequently delegitimized through this approach rather than engaged.

As the result, fear replaced trust. Fragmentation replaced institution-building. Intra-Oromo hostility became normalized from the early day of Oromo liberation movements.

The true essence of political skill has also been increasingly equated with surviving defamation campaigns rather than building durable institutions or solving collective Oromo problems.

Oromo civic organizations or democratic actors often get dismissed as puppets merely for advocating coexistence, pluralism, gradual reform, or engagement within Ethiopian state structures. In some circles, attacking such individuals became a proof of nationalist authenticity.

The damage caused by revolutionary absolutism extends well beyond Oromo politics. Ethiopia couldn’t build stable institutions while large segments of its technocrats, administrators, intellectuals, and experienced professionals are morally excommunicated from political legitimacy. That is how Oromo, the would have been asset for Ethiopian nation-building project, turned into a liability.

Another revealing example of the damages comes from the academic world.

A well-known Oromo professor published a book that many readers considered intellectually weak and poorly refined. After carefully reading the work, a younger professor respectfully approached him with constructive critiques. Instead of engaging the substance of the criticism, the senior professor reacted bitterly and asked the younger scholar “Gurbaa ati Amaarayii?”

The incident illustrates how deeply the syndrome has penetrated parts of Oromo political and intellectual culture. Honest criticism is no longer evaluated on its merit alone; it is frequently filtered through suspicion, ethnic loyalty tests, and fears of betrayal. This pattern demonstrates that the internal traitor syndrome is not confined to armed struggle or partisan politics. It has evolved into a broader psychological and cultural problem affecting political discourse, academic life, and social relations alike.

The Psychological Damage: Crisis of Oromo Self-Recognition

Perhaps the deepest damage has occurred at the psychological level.

Persistent suspicion toward fellow Oromos, particularly those working within state institutions, gradually produced a distorted political self-image. Oromo legitimacy increasingly became associated with opposition alone rather than with contribution, governance, scholarship, diplomacy, institution-building, or public service.

Political authenticity came to be measured less by what one built for society and more by one’s distance from the state, and at times even by the degree of suffering or victimhood one could claim. Successful Oromos in academia, business, public administration, or national institutions are often viewed as somehow “less Oromo,” or at least less nationalist. In this environment, victimhood itself increasingly became a marker of political authenticity.

This tendency is also reflected in Oromo artistic and literary culture. Songs, poems, writings, and films that romanticize Oromo suffering, betrayal, dispossession, and historical victimhood often receive greater emotional and political admiration than works that cultivate hope, confidence, creativity, achievement, and collective possibility. Narratives centered on pain frequently gain more legitimacy than narratives centered on agency.

As a result, reactive and revisionist cultural expressions often overshadow creative, forward-looking, and institution-building forms of art. The artist who mourns, denounces, or reopens historical wounds receive greater recognition than the artist who imagines new futures, celebrates social progress, or inspires collective renewal. Over time, suffering itself can become moralized as proof of authenticity, while optimism risks being interpreted as political softness, compromise, or detachment from historical injustice.

This is deeply psychological. Political cultures shaped by prolonged struggle and collective trauma often internalize grievance as a central component of identity. Communities become emotionally attached to memories of humiliation and resistance because those memories provide moral cohesion, historical meaning, and political legitimacy. Consequently, cultural production begin to revolve more around preserving pain than transcending it.

Yet no society can sustain itself on historical injury alone. A healthy political culture ultimately requires artistic and intellectual traditions that do not merely document suffering, but also cultivate dignity, imagination, confidence, humor, innovation, and civilizational ambition. Societies move forward not only through memory and resistance, but through their ability to envision themselves beyond trauma.

The broader consequence of such tradition has been the reinforcement of Oromo alienation from the state and the normalization of suspicion toward Oromos associated with state institutions. In such an environment, Oromo diversity itself becomes difficult to tolerate. Intellectual disagreement is easily interpreted as betrayal. Nuance disappears, while narratives of victimhood increasingly become the dominant political language.

Many politicians have continued to exploit this psychological crisis irresponsibly, using it as a tool both to attack the Ethiopian state and to delegitimize Oromos associated with it. As a result, Oromo leadership within state institutions often remains mistrusted despite its significant contributions to improving Oromo political standing and socioeconomic conditions.

But none of what has been listed above means opportunism or genuine collaboration do not exist. Every political system contains individuals motivated primarily by personal ambition, survival, or power.

But political maturity requires the ability to distinguish genuine betrayal from institutional engagement.

Not every Oromo who served within the Ethiopian state was anti-Oromo. Many believed they were advancing Oromo interests through education, reform, diplomacy, administration, development, scholarship, or gradual transformation. Many attempted, within imperfect systems, to improve conditions for both Oromos and Ethiopia alike. Some later withdrew when they concluded reform had reached its limits.

Nations mature when they recognize multiple forms of political service.

Liberation movements eventually face a necessary transition from resistance culture to governance culture, which they generally failed to do in Africa. Revolutionary purism may mobilize struggle, but it cannot sustain pluralistic societies indefinitely. Democratic politics requires coexistence with disagreement, internal diversity, ideological plurality, and institutional compromise.

No individual or organization possesses exclusive ownership over Oromo destiny. No single movement is uniquely entitled to define Oromo loyalty or identity. Our mutual loyalty is what defines Oromo. Struggling for Oromo as a nation more than anything requires nurturing that mutual loyalty.

Every historical experience, revolutionary, reformist, administrative, intellectual, civic, or diplomatic, contains lessons worth examining honestly rather than resentfully. That makes a milestone for national progress.

Rebuilding Oromo Political Psychology

What Oromo politics urgently requires today is psychological reconstruction.

That reconstruction begins by abandoning ideological policing and rehabilitating dignity across political differences. Oromo contribution must be recognized in its many forms: resistance, scholarship, governance, diplomacy, education, commerce, institution-building, cultural preservation, and civic reform.

The future requires moving from suspicion toward strategic coexistence.

In some cases, political healing may also require acknowledgment of unfair accusations, exclusions, and historical excesses. Societies move forward not by erasing pain, but by confronting it honestly.

Above all, Oromo politics must rediscover an older civilizational ethic: the presumption of mutual loyalty among its people. Nations survive when they assume good faith before betrayal, solidarity before suspicion.

The Oromo are not a mechanically uniform population. They are a vast and internally diverse imagined community held together by language, memory, culture, and historical aspiration. Such communities survive through hopeful imagination, not permanent paranoia. A nation is an imagined community, argues Benedict Andersen.

Conclusion: Escaping the Internal Traitor Syndrome

The Oromo struggle was weakened not only by external domination, but also by internal cultures of exclusion, suspicion, and ideological absolutism. Revolutionary traditions imported during the liberation era, especially doctrines centered on internal traitors and political purity, left enduring marks on Oromo political psychology. The internal traitor syndrome continues to haunt both those labeled as traitors and those who cast the accusations.

Yet political cultures are not permanent. Nations evolve.

Political maturity begins when disagreement is no longer confused with betrayal, and when complexity is no longer treated as disloyalty. Oromo renewal requires intellectual humility, historical honesty, psychological confidence, and the courage to embrace internal diversity without abandoning collective dignity. According to the accounts of Leencoo Lataa, some early liberation leaders were aware of the dangers of failing to administer internal diversity, even if they ultimately struggled to escape their own fears.

Every Oromo political generation, regardless of ideology, largely believed it was acting in the interest of its people. Recognizing this reality alone can soften decades of bitterness and mutual suspicion. To assume that figures such as Gobana Dacce, Habtegeorgis Dinagde or Haile Fida consciously sought to harm the Oromo people is neither a healthy nor historically responsible starting point. More often than not, such assumptions emerge less from evidence than from ideological chauvinism.

No nation can flourish while endlessly hunting internal traitors among itself. Mutual loyalty, even when imperfect, is what ultimately sustains collective existence.

Oromo politics must therefore move beyond the inherited reflex of suspicion and toward a more confident political culture rooted in evidence, dialogue, coexistence, institutional maturity, and shared national hope.

With national elections scheduled for June 1, 2026, the stakes are unusually high. Pressures that might otherwise remain contained now risk interacting in ways that produce a broader systemic shock. The danger is not any single flashpoint now, their simultaneity can stretch state capacity, sharpening political polarization, and inviting external opportunism.

The escalation risk extends beyond Ethiopia’s borders. Instability in Ethiopia can quickly spill into Horn of Africa, where conflicts are tightly interconnected. A deterioration in Tigray and along the Sudanese frontier could draw in Eritrea and Sudan, while intensifying rivalry with Egypt. This would effectively fuse multiple disputes, border tensions, civil war dynamics, and Nile geopolitics, into a single, volatile theatre.

Crucially, the Horn sits adjacent to the Red Sea, one of the world’s most critical maritime corridors. Any escalation that threatens Red Sea security risks disrupting global shipping lanes linking Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. In the current environment, already strained by conflict in the Middle East, such disruption would not remain regional. It could reverberate through energy markets, supply chains, and great-power competition, drawing in external actors with strategic interests in maritime security and regional influence.

In this sense, Ethiopia’s present tensions are not isolated. They sit at the intersection of local fragility and global interdependence, where a convergence of crises, if mismanaged, could evolve from a national challenge into a wider regional confrontation with tangible global consequences.

A Domestic Fault Line Reopens

The most immediate pressure point lies in Tigray. The decision by the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) to reinstall Debretsion Gebremichael as president through its own council represents more than an internal maneuver, it is a direct challenge to the post-conflict federal arrangement.

Addis Ababa obviously views the move as illegitimate and inconsistent with the Pretoria Agreement, which formally ended the devastating conflict. More critically, it exposes the fragility of the interim governance structure in Tigray and the incomplete nature of the peace process.

What elevates concern is not just the internal split, but credible indications that dissident TPLF elements are exploring external relationships, including with Eritrea, a former adversary turned uneasy regional spoiler. This suggests a fluid and opportunistic realignment rather than a stable post-conflict order.

Sudan: Escalation, and Strategic Signaling

Simultaneously, tensions with Sudan have escalated sharply. General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan has accused Ethiopia, alongside the United Arab Emirates, of facilitating drone strikes on Khartoum, including its international airport.

Ethiopia has categorically rejected the allegations. Yet in geopolitics, accusations themselves are strategic instruments. For Sudan’s military leadership, framing Ethiopia as an external aggressor serves both domestic legitimacy and international positioning within the ongoing civil war.

More importantly, it introduces a dangerous precedent: the normalization of cross-border attribution without verifiable consensus, increasing the risk of retaliatory escalation.

Egypt: Nile Politics Meets Regional Opportunity

Egypt’s swift condemnation must be read through the enduring lens of Nile geopolitics. The dispute over the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam remains unresolved and deeply securitized in Cairo.

For Egypt, instability in Ethiopia, particularly near an election, creates diplomatic leverage. While there is no conclusive evidence of direct coordination with other actors, Egypt’s alignment with Sudan’s military leadership reinforces a shared strategic objective: constraining Ethiopia’s regional assertiveness.

Eritrea: From Ally to Strategic Spoiler

Relations with Eritrea have deteriorated steadily since the end of the Tigray conflict. Disputes over border security, Ethiopia’s Red Sea ambitions, and the incomplete withdrawal of Eritrean forces from Tigray have eroded the relationship between the two countries.

Asmara’s recent rhetoric and alleged contacts with Tigrayan factions indicate a strengthened spoiler posture, not necessarily to provoke direct conflict, but to limit Ethiopia’s strategic maneuverability.

Pattern or Coincidence?

Individually, each of these developments has its own logic. Tigray’s leadership dispute reflects unresolved post-conflict governance. Sudan’s concern emerge from its internal civil war dynamics. Egypt’s stance is anchored in long-standing Nile disputes while Eritrea’s behavior comes from its regional spoiler role, following its security doctrine of preemptive balancing.

However, their near-simultaneous intensification, just few weeks before Ethiopia’s election, creates a cumulative pressure effect. Although this does not necessarily prove a centralized conspiracy, a plausible interpretation cannot omit the emergence of an “alignment of interests with or without coordination”: multiple actors, driven by distinct motivations, whose actions collectively constrain Ethiopia at a politically sensitive moment.

Why Timing Matters

Elections are inherently vulnerable periods. Political attention is inward, institutional bandwidth is stretched, and adversaries, state or non-state, perceive opportunity. In this context, even low-level external pressures can amplify internal divisions, undermine public confidence, delay or disrupt electoral processes, or trigger localized conflicts with national implications.

Tigray, in particular, remains the critical hinge. Any relapse into conflict there could rapidly internationalize, drawing in Eritrea and complicating relations with Sudan. But there is another scenario too. The international community remains cautious regarding potential conflict in the Red Sea region.

A Plausible Way Forward

Ethiopia’s response must deliberately avoid two strategic pitfalls: overreaction and complacency. Sustained implementation of the Pretoria Agreement is indispensable, not only as a mechanism for stabilizing Tigray, but as a demonstration of state coherence and credibility. At the same time, allegations from actors such as Sudan require swift, evidence-based rebuttals grounded in verifiable facts. In contemporary geopolitics, perception can escalate tensions as rapidly as material realities, making disciplined strategic communication essential. Parallel to this, calibrated back-channel engagement with all regional stakeholders, including Egypt and Eritrea, should be pursued not as concession, but as prudent risk management aimed at preventing miscalculation.

Proactive diplomacy must also extend to continental mechanisms. Institutions such as the African Union and Intergovernmental Authority on Development should be engaged early and consistently, before emerging tensions solidify into crises. Above all, safeguarding the June elections is a strategic imperative. The credibility and stability of this electoral process will serve as a barometer of national resilience, either easing external pressures through demonstrated internal order or amplifying them if vulnerabilities are exposed.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Ethiopia may not be confronting a coordinated siege, but it is undeniably undergoing a strategic stress test, one shaped by shifting regional alignments, unresolved conflicts, and the sensitivities of political transition. Recognizing this distinction is critical. A narrative of conspiracy risks provoking defensive overreach, whereas an accurate reading of converging pressures calls for disciplined, calibrated statecraft.

Ethiopia’s resilience will hinge not on simplifying the complexity of its environment, but on managing it with precision, anchoring firmness at home while exercising pragmatism abroad. The coming weeks will be decisive. They will determine whether this moment hardens into a tipping point of instability or stands as a measured demonstration of strategic maturity in an increasingly volatile region.

Qabsoo dhalli namaa sadarkaa gareeti godhu bakka adda addaati qoodun ilaalun ni danda’ama. Isaan keessaa qabsoon sadarkaa kutaa hawaasati godhamu (class struggle), qabsoon aangoo siyaasaa qabachuuf godhamu (political struggle), qabsoo ilaalcha siyaasan godhamu (ideological struggle) fi qabsoo eenyummaaf hiree murteeffanaa sabaaf godhamu (national struggle) kaasun ni danda’ama.

Qabsoon Oromoon bara dheeraaf godhaa ture qabsoo olitti ka’an baay’ee kana of keessati hammatu ta’ullee adda dureen qabsoo sabaati jechuun ni danda’ama. Qabsoon sabaa qabsoo hiree murteeffannaa mirkaneeffachuuf godhamuudha. Oromoon waggoota dheeraaf eenyummaa isaa tikfachuu akkasumas hiree isaa ofiin murteffachuuf qabsoo cimaa taasisaa tureera.

Barreeffama kana keessati rakkoolee qabsoo Oromoof bu’uura ta’an, gulantaa dadammaqiinsaa saba Oromoo, sadarkaa dhalachuu dhaabbilee hawaasummaaf siyaasaa, injifannoowwan argaman, rakkoof hojii manaa hafe kaasnee waamicha tokkummaaf nagaa goonee xumura.

Rakkoo Qabsoo Oromoo Dhalte

Oromoon ummata seenaa qabsoo bara dheeraa qabu ta’ullee, jalqabiin qabsoo ammayyaa weerara mootii Minilik IIn dhuma jaarraa 19ffaa keessa godheen akka wal qabatu seenan ni addeessa. Weerara kanaan wal qabatee, bulchiinsi mootota Oromoo bakka adda addaa ture diigame lafti isaanii mootummaa giddugaleessaa jala galuu isaan ummatni Oromoo lafa isaarratti nama biraaf gabbara kanfalee jiraachuuf dirqame.

Weerarri kun weerara waraanaf saamicha lafaa qofa hin turre; sirna ittiin eenyummaan saba Oromoo moggaati dhiibbamee badiif kaadhimames ture. Itti aanee aadaan Oromoo iddoo dhabe, sirniif duudhan isaa gara ukkaamfamuuti adeeme. Afaan Oromoo miidiyaarraa dhorkame. Dubbiin asirratti hin dhaabbatu, yaaliin kun Oromoon aadaaf afaan biraa akka fudhatu godhuuf (assimilation) karaa qulqulleessuu ture jedhamee amanama.

Eegaa adeemsa kanatu sammuu Oromoo baay’ee keessatti madaa uume. Eenyummaan isaa balaa keessa galuu Oromoon akka hubatu gochuuf sochiin jalqabame. Balaan alaa Oromooti dhufe kun dammaqiinsa sabummaa (national consciousness) uume.

Dadammaqiinsaa Oromoo

Modeliin ijaarsa sirna moorummaa Itoophiyaa qabeenya Oromoo kan dhuunfatu qofa odoo hin taane, eenyummaa Oromoo badiif kan kaadhime ta’usaa hubachuun dadammaqiinsa uumuu (awakening) kan jalqaban aartistoota Oromooti. Artistoonni Oromoo aartii isaaniin miidhaa Oromoof Oromummaarra gahuu danda’u ifatti baasanii ummata biraan gahuu jalqaban. Kana keessati gaheen artistoota keenyaa kan akka Wasanuu Didoofi miseensota baandii Arfan Qalloo daraan olaana ture. Artistoonni keenya karaa tokkoo miidhaa Oromoorra gahu ibsaa karaa biraammoo Oromummaa dagaagsuu keessati shoora olaanaa taphachaa turan. Bakki Oromoon itti walitti dhufu marti Irreechaa dabalatee, foramii mormiif dadammaqiinsaa Oromoo ta’ee tajaajilaa tureera.

Sosochiin karaa aartii jalqabe kun suuta suuta deemee gara ijaarsa hawaasummatti ol guddate. Kanaan wal qabatee ijaaramuun Maccaaf Tuulamaa seenaa qabsoo Oromoo keessati iddoo guddaa kan qabuudha. Kaayyoon Maccaaf Tuulamaa Oromoo walitti fiduun akka of-gargaaran gochuu fakkaatullee, eenyummaa Oromoo iddooti deebsuuf sabboonummaa Oromoo jabeessuun hojii ifaa ta’ee bahe ture.

Hoggantoonni Maccaaf Tuulamaa kan akka Haylamaaram Gammaddaa, Alamuu Qixxeessaa, Tadessee Birruufi kanneen biroo Oromoo dammaqsuu keessati gahee guddaas taphatanii jiru, arsaa guddaas kanfalanii jiru. Mootummaan adeemsa kana hubate, Maccaaf Tuulamaa bara 1960 keessa ugguree hooggantoota isaa kan hidhee, kaan ammoo gara ajjeesutti deeme. Hojiin aartistoonni Oromoofi hooggantoonni Maccaaf Tuulamaa hojjetan garuu waan tokko ifa godhee mul’ise. Innis Oromoon kutaaf gosa bira darbee akka sabaatti ijaaramee qabsa’uu akka danda’u ifatti mirkaneesse. Ijaarsa qabsoo sadarkaa itti aanuufis Oromoo qopheesse.

Ijaarsa Siyaasaa Oromoo

Dadammaqiinsi bara 1950 keessa aartii Oromoofi ijaarsa Maccaaf Tuulamaan godhamerra dhaabbatee ijaarsi dhaabbilee siyaasaa Oromoo itti fufe. Sadarkaan dadammaqiinsi Oromoo irra gahe qabsoo siyaasaa Oromoo sadarkaa haaraati ceesise jechuudha. Haala kanaan dhaabbileen gaafii Oromoo giddugala godhatanii qabsa’an, qabsoon Oromoo qabsoo sabaa ta’u amananii garuummoo sadarkaa gaafiin kun itti deebii argachuu danda’urratti garaagartummaa qaban lama gadi bahan jechuun ni danda’ama.

Gareen tokko garee qabsoon Oromoo qabsoo sabaati, sadarkaan inni itti deebii quubsaa argachuu danda’u walabummaa Oromiyaa mirkaneessudhaan kan jedhuudha. Gareen inni lammataa ammoo garee qabsoon Oromoo qabsoo sabaa ta’uu fudhatee, Itoophiyaa dimokiraatofte keessati deebii argachuu ni danda’a jedhee amanuudha.

Addi Bilisummaa Oromoo (ABO) hiree murteeffannaa guutuu fi mootummaa Oromoo bilisa ta’e ijaaruurratti xiyyeeffate socho’aa ture fakkeenya garee duraa yoo ta’u Dhabbanni Dimokiraasummaa Ummata Oromoo (DH.D.U.O) ammoo gaafiin Oromoo Itoophiyaa dimokraatessuf hirmaannaa Oromoo mirkaneessuun deebii ni argata jedhee garee amane keessati ramadama.

Dhaabbileen kun sadarkaa gaafiin Oromoo deebii quubsaa itti argachuu danda’urratti garaagartummaa qabaatanillee, ka’umsi isaanii bifa wal fakkaatuun miidhaa Oromoorraa gaheedha. Kaayyoon isaanii inni dhumaas hiree murteeffannaa saba Oromooti. Hiree kana mirkaneessuuf lamaanuu qawwee kaasanii qabsa’anii jiru. Injifannoos gonfatanii jiru.

Kufaatii Dargiifi Injifannoo Guutuu Hin Taane

Qabsoon Oromoo sadarkaa hidhannooti ce’ee mootummaa Dargiirratti waraana jalqabullee Oromoon qoophii gahaa odoo hin godhiin Dargiin akka kufe qabsa’oon Oromoo ni dubbatu. Haala kana keessati marii Londonitti godhamee irratti olaantummaa garee Afaan tokko dubbatuun Itoophiyaan bakka lamati qoodamte. Isaayaas Afawarqii Eertiraa Itoophiyaarra foxxoksee fudhatee yoo deemu, Malas Zeenaawin Itoophiyaa hafte qabatee itti fufuuf murteefate. Sirna federaalaa bara 1995 Itoophiyaa keessati ijaarameen Naannoon Oromiyaa naannoo mirga ofiin of-bulchuu qabu ta’ee hunda’e. Sadarkaa yaad-rimeetis ta’u Naannoon Oromiyaa naannoo Oromoon keessati ofiin of-bulchu ta’ee ijaaramuun isaa injifannoo qabsoo Oromoo keessa tokko ta’ee ilaalama.

Yaa ta’u malee sodaa Adda Bilisummaa Ummata Tigraay (ABUT) ummata Oromoof ABO irraa qabuun ABOn dhiibbamee chaartara keessaa akka bahu ta’e. Sana booda Oromoo gaafii mirgaa gaafatu hunda ABO dha jechuun dararuun itti fufe. Miseensota DH.D.U.O dabalatee “yoo faaqaman ABO dha” jedhamanii rakkoo ulfaata jara turan. Mirgi ofiin of-bulchuu Oromoo akkanaan gaafii deebii quubsaa hin argatin injifannoo gar-tokkee ta’ee hafe jechuudha. Haala kanaan hacuucan hammaatee, saamich lafa baballatee, Oromoo fincila didaa gabrunmaaf kakaase.

Akkuma Itoophiyaan garee Afaan tokko dubbatuun iddoo lamatti qoodamtee, dhaabbileen siyaasaa Oromoos garee kana lamaan waliin iddoo lamaanitti qoodaman jechuun ni danda’ama. Tokko gaadisa Eeritraa jalatti yoo hammatamu inni biraammoo Tigroota Itoophiyaa bulchaan biratti hafe. Gaafiin ummata Oromoo garuu garee kamiinuu deebii quubsaa odoo hin argatin hafe. Gaafii Oromoo deebii dhabdee bulte tunimmoo Oromoo iddoo maraa kaastee gara qabsooti fide. Hayyoonni Oromoo alaaf keessaa wal dubbisanii qabsoo finiinsan.

Dhimmoota bilbiltuu yeroo sanatti bu’ura mormii ta’an keessaa dhimmi lafafi qabeenya Oromoo sammamuu, maaster pilaaniin Finfinnee, mirgi ofiin of-bulchuu Oromoofi gaafiin Afaan Oromoon afaan hojii mootummaa Feederaalaa gochuu gaafii jajjaboo turan. Gaafileen kun sirni Federaalizimii Itoophiyaa keessa ture kan fakkeessoo ta’u isaa mul’isuu bira darbee mootummaan Feederaalaa biyyatti kan saba tokkoon qabameef ummata dhiitee bituu ta’u isaa saaxile.

Oromoon akkuma sana dura godhaa ture, akka sabaati qabsoo hadhooftuu godhee, dargaggoota kumaatamaan itti wareegee biyyatti keessati jijjiirama siyaasaa fide. Haala kanaan bara 2018 ADWUI keessati jijjiiramni godhamee Oromoon akka sabaati gara aangoo isaa maluutti dhufe. Haala kanaan Oromoon aangoo siyaasaa gaafilee isaa deebisuu danda’an argate. Yaa ta’u malee gaafileen baay’een bifa itti fufiinsa qabuun deebii akka argatan godhuuf adeemsa heeraafi seera biyyatti hordofanii deemun barbaachisaadha.

Kanaan wal qabatee, gaafileen deebii argatan akkuma jiran gaafileen ammalee deebii eegachaa jiran baay’etu jira. Gaafileen biroos yeroodha yerooti dabalaa deemun isaanii akkuma jirutti ta’ee, gaafiin Oromoo bara dheeraaf gangalacha dhufan baay’een isaanii marii biyyaleessaaf ajandaa ta’anii dhihaatanii jiru. Fakkeenyaaf gaafiin Afaan Oromoo afaan hojii mootummaa federaalaa gochuu, gaafiin abbaa biyyummaa Finfinneefi iddoo biroo kana akka Dirre Dhaawaa, Moyyaleef kan biroo ajandaa marii ta’anii dhihaatanii jiru.

Kun akkuma jirutti ta’ee, wal shakkiif wal morkiin dhaabbilee siyaasaa Oromoo jidduu jiru yeroodha yerooti baballachaa deemee shakkirraa gara walitti bu’iinsa dhiiga Oromoo dhangalaasaa jirutti ol guddachuun isaa madoo hamaadha. Warri kaleessa waloon diinarratti qabsa’ee iddoo isaaf malu gahe har’adha waliin deemuu dadhabee haadhoon haadhoo ajjeesaa jira. Kun fafa Oromoon takkaa seenaa isaa keessati argee hin beeknedha. Oromoon fafa qe’ee isaa dhufe kana mariif marabaan hiikuuf yeroo kamuu caalaa tokkomee dhaabbachuu qaba. Oromoon ajandaa kamuu caalaa tokkummaaf nagaa isaa tiksuuf hiriiruu qaba.

Oromoo Maaltu asiin gahe? Tokkummaafi Sabboonummaa

Oromoon qabsoo amma ammaati godhe kan godhe akka sabaati; injifannoo amma ammaati gonfates kan gonfate akka sabaati. Akka sabaati balaa itti aggammame qolachuuf dammaqee socho’uun eenyummaa isaa baraare. Kana godhuu keessatti gaheen sabboonummaa Oromoo gahee leencati. Sabboonummaan ilaalcha dhalli namaa fedhii dhuunfaaf dantaa garee kamuu caalaa amanamummaan saba isaaf of kenna jedhuudha. Haaluma kanaan sabboonummaan Oromoo saba Oromoo dammaqsee, miira eenyummaa sabaan akka ijaaramu godhee jira. Hayyoonni Oromoo mirga hiree murteeffannaa saba Oromoof aarsaa ammana hin jedhamne kanfalanii jiru. Kanaaf kan qabsoon Oromoo qabsoo sabaati jedhamu. Qabsoo sabni guutuun miira tokkummaaf sabboonummaan karaa danda’ee hundaan irratti hirmaatedha. Dhaabbileen hawaasummaafi siyaasaa Oromoo ummata dammaqisuuf ijaaruu keessati shoora guddaa qabaatanillee dhabbileen kunuu bu’aa qabsoo sabaa ta’uun isaanii garuu dagatamuu hin qabu.

Oromoon motora qabsoo isaa bara dheeraa kan ta’an sabboonummaafi tokkummaa isaa jabeessee tikfachuu qaba. Injifannoon Oromoon amma har’ati gonfate injifannoo sabboonummaaf tokkummaan Oromoo galmeesedha. Akkuma qabsoo siyaasaa keessati ilaalchi siyaasaa adda addaa shoora olaanaa taphatan, qabsoo sabaa keessati sabboonummaaf tokkummaan sabaa shoora olaanaa qaba. Sabboonummaaf tokkummaan Oromoo qabsoo Oromoo finiinsuufi injifannoo Oromoon gonfate mirkaneessuu keessati shoorri isaa kan qalama warqeen barreeffamuu qabuudha.

Yaa ta’u malee kaayyoof gaheen sabboonummaan saba tokkoo haala qabatamaa saba sanaa waliin kan jijjiiramaa deemu ta’uun isaa hubatamuu qaba. Sabboonummaan Oromoo kaleessa aggaammii eenyummaa Oromoorratti godhame qolachuuf ummata sochoosaa ture har’a san godhaa itti fufuu hin danda’u. Sabboonummaan Oromoo bakka Oromoon har’a irra gaherraa dhaabbatee gara itti deemuu qabu akeekuu qaba. Balaaf aggaammin har’a eenyummaa, qabeenya fi mirga ofiin of-bulchuu Oromoo irratti godhamuuf Oromoo yaadessu guddaan jira amantaa jedhu hin qabu. Sana jechuun Oromummaarratti xiyyeeffannoon godhamu hin jiru jechuu miti. Oromummaa xureessun aangoo siyaasaa Oromoo harkaa jiru baasanii qabachuuf tataafiin godhamu ifatti jira. Oromoon kanarratti dammaquu qaba.

Sabboonummaan Oromoo garuu bifa itti fufiinsa qabuun Oromoo ceesisuuf beekumsaaf teeknolojii hidhachiisuu, diinagdeen ijaaruu akkasumas sirna cimaa Oromoo hunda hammatu ijaaruu irratti xiyyeeffannoo addaa kennee ummata sochoosuu itti fufuu qaba. Ummata barate, dammaqeef ijaarrametu aangoo siyaasaa bifa itti fufiinsa qabuun tikfachuuf itti fayyadamuu danda’a. Kana waliin taanee, tokkummaan gochuu yoo hin dandeenye injifannoon Oromoo fulla’aa hin ta’u. Karri injifannoo Oromoo inni guddaan tokkummaa Oromooti.

Xumura

Qabsoon Oromoo qabsoo jaarraa tokkoof walakaa oliif tureedha. Qabsoon kun bifa walirraa hin cinneen waggaa amma kanaaf kan ture qabsoo sabaa waan ta’eef. Akkasiin dhaloonni walirraa fuudhee asiin gahe. Qabsoon hadhooftuun wareegama gurguddaa gaafate tun ka’umsa ifa ta’erraa kaatee, sadarkaa dadammaqiinsaa, gurmaa’insaaf ijaarsaa dabartee, fincila adda addaa keessa darbuun injifannoo siyaasaa gonfachuu dandeechee jirti.

Qabsoo kana keessati Oromoon waan argate baay’ee akkuma qabu waan hafes baay’ee qaba. Waan hafe kana ammoo sadarkaa amma keessa jiruun hayyootatu waliin gadi ta’ee mari’achuun itti guutaa deema ture. Oromoon adda dureen abbaa biyyummaa isaa mirkaneeffachuun eenyummaa isaa balaa itti aggaamamerraa baraaruuf cichee qabsa’e. Tuni kaayyoo qabsoo sabaati. Akkamiin kun galma gaha kan jedhurratti garee lamatu ture. Inni duraa walabummaaf bilisummaa Oromoo mirkaneessuun galma gaha yoo jedhu inni lammataa ammoo walqixxummaafi obbolummaa sabaaf sablammoota biyya Itoophiyaa hunda mirkaneessuutu gaafii Oromoo hundeerraa deebsa gara jedhutti gore. Akkasiin kaayyoon qabsoo Oromoo bilisummaa (liberte), walqixxummaa (equalite) fi obbolummaa (fraterinte) qabsoon saba Faransaay dhalche san gara dhaalutti dhufe jechuudha.

Akka walii galaatti, qabsoo siyaasaa keessati aangoo siyaasaa qabachuun injifannoo guddaadha. Garuu qofaa isaa gahaa hin ta’u. Sirna hammataafi haqa qabeessa ijaaruun aangoo ittichuun akkaan barbaachisaadha. Oromoon amma aangoo siyaasaa qabatee akka Oromoof akkasumas sabaaf sablammoota biyyattii hammachuu danda’utti caasessuu irratti argama. Adeemsa kana keessati, hayyoonni Oromoo waliin gadi ta’aanii karaa dheertuu qabsoon Oromoo irra dhufte, aarsaa Oromoon akka sabaati kanfale fi injifannoo Oromoon akka sabaati gonfate oodiit godhuu qabu. Sanarra dhaabbatanii sirna cimaa mirga ofiin of bulchuu dhugaa mirkaneessuu akkasumas Itoophiyaa dimokiraatoftuu walqixxummaa fi obbolummaa sabaaf sablammoota irratti hundoofte ijaaruutu furmaata ta’a. Adeemsa kanaan aangoo siyaasaa harkaa qabnu kana gara faayidaa qabatamaatti jijjiiruun ni danda’ama jedheen amana.

Kana godhuuf tokkummaan Oromoo akkaan barbaachisaadha. Tokkummaa jechuun garuu garaagartummaa yaadaa balleessuu miti. Wal amantaa waloo akka sabaati qabnu eeguu jechuudha. Galma waloo waliin qabaachuu jechuudha. Tokkummaa tarsiima’aan, dantaa sabaa ijoo ta’an irratti waliin dhaabbachuu, garaagartummaa keessoo xixiqqoo mariin furuufi dantaa sabaa yeroo dheeraaf dursa kennuu gaafata.

Kanaan walqabatee, hojiin manaa siyaasa Oromoo waan sadiidha. Tokkooffaan ittita keesso (internal consolidation) cimsuudha: wal qoqoodiinsa humna siyaasaa jidduuti mul’atu mariin fayyisuun dhimma sabaa irratti wal amantaa waloo (mutual loyalty) uumuu. Lammaffaan cimina dhaabbilee (institutional deepening) dabaluudha: dhaabbilee aangoo siyaasaa argame kana gara bulchiinsa gariitti, olaantummaa seeraafi faayidaa ummataatti jijjiiran cimsuun barbaachisaadha. Sadaffaan tarsiimoo ifa ta’e lafa kaa’aanii waliin adeemudha: walitti dhufeenya mootummaalee naannoof mootummaa federaalaa jidduu jiru bifa mirga ofiin of bulchuu akkasumas bulchiinsa waloo waliin ijaarachuu hin fallessineen ifa gochuu, dhimmoota gaafii ummataa ta’anii turan irratti ejjannoof adeemsa jiru ummataaf ifa godhaa deemuun barbaachisaadha.

Walumaa galatti, barumsi guddaan nuti qabsoo Oromoo bara dheeraa kanarraa baranu tokko, Oromoon kan injifate akka sabaati tokko ta’ee waan socho’eef ta’u isaati. Akka hardha dhaabbileen siyaasa ana qofatu qabsa’ee moo’ate, ana qofatu ummata bilisa baase jedhan kana odoo hin taane, qabsoon Oromoo qabsoo sabaati. Injifannoon Oromoos injifannoo sabaati. Saba Oromootu aarsaa guddaa kanfalee dhaabbilee Oromoolee bakka hirkatanii turanii bilisa baase jechuun ni danda’ama. Kun barumsa guddaadha.

Injifannoon qabsoon saba Oromoo gonfate akkuma jirutti ta’ee aangoo siyaasaa qabachuun qofti garuu injifannoo fulla’aa ta’uu hin danda’u. Oromoon injifannoo dhumaa injifate kan jennu gaafa Oromoon walitti dhufee tokkummaa isaa jabeefatee, mariin qe’ee isaati nagaa buusee, aangoo siyaasaa harka isaa jiru faaydaa sabaaf oolchuu danda’e qofaadha.

Horaa Bulaa!

Glad to be here and sharing my views on A Case for Cooperative Maritime Governance in the Horn of Africa.

The Horn of Africa is a critical geopolitical location that many countries consider as a national security concern. But we don’t speak about it as much as we should.

So, I wanted start by picturing the Horn of Africa, a region with over four thousand kilometres of jagged coastline guarding Bab el-Mandeb, that critical chokepoint every bit as vital as the Strait of Hormuz.

About twelve percent of global trade has flowed through Bab el-Mandan since the opening of Suez Canal in 1869.

That’s an enormous potential, yet the region is also fragile with weak states carrying scars from decades of border wars, betrayals, and Cold War rivalries.

Three of our four countries hug the sea, while Ethiopia, the region’s giant with about 130 million people, has been landlocked since Eritrea’s independence. For Ethiopia, sea access isn’t a luxury now, it’s an existential matter.

Look at Eritrea: once hailed as Africa’s Singapore with over a thousand kilometres of Red Sea coast and a promising navy. They call themselves guardians of the Red Sea too. But its ports are standing empty — ghost towns where camels (a national symbol in fact) drink. That promise has quietly died, because Eritrea failed to do what Singapore did - Cooperate.

Djibouti, though tiny with about 300 kilometres of coastline, runs Africa’s busiest port and hosts military bases from eight different powers — all crammed within ten kilometres. The cash flows in, but national sovereignty is steadily eroding. With flags touching each other and war clouds gathering overhead, this isn’t just Djibouti’s problem — it threatens Ethiopia, the whole region, and the continent.

Somalia boasts one of the longest coasts in the world — over three thousand kilometres. But the country is fractured. Puntland and Somaliland act as de facto maritime players through port deals, while Al-Shabaab adds maritime threats. Somalia outcry over sovereignty and territorial integrity but Somaliland is acting in away not only shaping its future but also the whole region. External powers, Turkey training forces, UAE building ports, further complicate the picture.

Ethiopia, meanwhile, sends ninety-five percent of its trade through Djibouti paying billions of dollars every year. Its push for new sea access and better terms emanates from the complex situation in the region, worrying neighbors and deepening old mistrust from past conflicts.

Piracy is also surging in the region, Houthis are arming Somali crews, and armed robberies plague the waters off Aden.

Foreign powers — the US, China, Turkey, UAE, Russia and Egypt — are all competing for influence, often playing weak states against each other.

But here’s the hopeful truth: the sea shores in the region is more than enough for everyone. Ethiopia’s needs and Eritrea’s idle coast scream that cooperation is the only real win-win in the region. It also speaks to the fact that no unilateral maritime policies are unsustainable in the region.

Now, imagine turning the whole region into a Horn of Africa version of Singapore — not by fighting the big powers, but by hosting them on our terms.

Take for instance IGAD-led Horn Maritime Alliance as start point where Horn Countries shares information, patrols, joint technology, and common standards.

We could begin by strengthening existing bilateral port-sharing agreements and gradually build a multilateral framework under IGAD or African Union leadership. Djibouti-Ethiopia agreement with established railways could serve as a very good starting point, then moving to a joint infrastructure and corridor development.

All the superpowers hate piracy and that’s a very good leverage. We can engage them on that front. But also on infrastructure and tech developments.

The shores with huge potential belongs to us; cooperation unlocks them. And only through shared governance do we secure cash for ports, access for the landlocked, and lasting peace for the region and beyond.

Thank you!

Let us start by imagining the Horn of Africa: long, jagged Sea shores, over four thousand kilometers, guarding Bab el-Mandeb, that vital strait mirroring Hormuz.

Twelve percent of world trade flows through Bab el-Mandeb, since the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869. This is a Prime spot with abundant potential.

But we’re also fragile, weak states, cold-war echoes, mistrust baked in from decades of borders wars and betrayals.

Three of the four countries in the region have more than enough sea shores, except the giant suffocated Ethiopia.

Eritrea: once called ‘Africa’s Singapore’ for its over a thousand kilometers sea shores on the Red Sea and strong navy promise.

They call themselves as the guardians of the Red Sear.  But faced post-independence isolation.

Now its ports are a ghost, no ships and watering place for camels, that is how the promise has died.

Djibouti? Tiny powerhouse, owns about 300 km coastline, & hosts Africa’s busiest port and multiple foreign military bases.

Djibouti collect rent from bases, but sovereignty is shrinking. Eight powers crammed: US drones, China’s expanding bases, France jets, Japan radar, all within ten kilometres. Chinese base growing, US next door, flags almost touching.

Cash flows, but it’s suffocated, national pride is eroding. Up in air in Djibouti the war is looming.

This isn’t a threat just for Djibouti but for Ethiopia, the entire region and the continent.

Somalia owns one of world’s longest coast, over 3000 km; a huge maritime potential but it also experiences internal fragmentation.

Puntland and Somaliland are becoming de facto Maritime actors, seeking leverage through port deals.​

Somalia makes claims on the bases of territorial integrity and sovereignty; but Somaliland is acting in a way that shape not just its fate but regional bargaining power.

External meddling is also significant, with Turkish military training bases, UAE port deals in Somaliland and Al-Shabaab maritime threats. Somalia has huge underused sea shores amid chaos.

Ethiopia, a country with maritime history has become landlocked giant since Eritrea split, with ninety-five percent trade via Djibouti,

Sea access isn’t luxury for Ethiopia, it’s existential matters for a country of 130 millions.

Ethiopia is in high stakes dilemma driving modern maritime diplomacy, that rises concern from neighbouring horn countries.

Meanwhile, threats are piling up in the region. Piracy is surging, twenty-two attacks last year, Houthis is arming Somali crews, armed robberies off Aden.

Mistrust runs deep from Ethiopia-Eritrea, and Ethiopia-Somalia conflicts, sovereignty and territorial integrity issues in Somalia, and increasing rent dependency and port monopoly from Djibouti.

Droughts and wars are geography’s gift and state’s curse in the region.

But there is a huge opportunities in shared maritime governance in the region.

Ethiopia’s landlocked pain and Eritrea’s underused coast hints to cooperation as the only win.

A more scaring scenario is a foreign bid in the region.

Rivals everywhere, US vs China drills, Turkey in Mogadishu training, UAE at Berbera cranes, Russia and UAE eyeing Assab.

Foreign powers are following “access-for-influence” approach.

They may choose weak states for divide-and-rule tactics: back one side, block another.

If this drags, proxy wars escalate, ports weaponized, trade stalls, global shipping chokes and countries like Ethiopia suffer a lot.

But we have to look on the positive side.

All the Superpowers ideally hate piracy, their shared enemy.

That can be taken as a leverage for the region.

Singapore is often taken as a good example for maritime development.

Singapore didn’t fight giants; it hosted them, but it set the rules, built the hub.

The Horn of African countries can do the same.

We have to shoot for making the entire region Singapore, for instance IGAD-led Horn Maritime Alliance, where they start by sharing patrols, tech, information and standards.

This could start by bilateral port-sharing and tariff agreements;​ technical harmonisation under IGAD/AU lead, and multilateral forum for shared security and commercial norms in the long run.

Engaging the externals helps to change the rivals into partners.

One thing should be very clear here tho; the shores are more than enough in the Horn and cooperation unlocks it.

But we need to learn to see cooperation as smart survival, the only way forward for sharing shores and prosperity in the region, not as weakness or surrender.

Only through cooperation we get cash for ports, access for landlocked and peace for all in the region and beyond.

Thank You!

Medemer, which stands for synergy, and interdependence, offers a third path. Medemer is not a temporary political slogan, it is a principled hybridity: an institutional and ethical framework that refuses the false choice between unity and diversity. Instead, it seeks to minimize the characteristic failures of both extremes while maximizing their strengths. This piece outlines why hybridity is necessary, what Medemer means in practice, and the conditions under which it can succeed.

The Two Imperfect Logics

Forced National Synergy

This approach treats the Ethiopian state as a singular, indivisible entity that must be engineered from the center. Whether through imperial assimilation policies, the Derg’s socialist central planning, or later attempts at top-down integration, the logic is the same: strong coordination requires homogeneity or at least subordination of peripheral identities to a national core.

Strengths: Centralized systems excel at large-scale coordination, building national infrastructure, maintaining security, and executing macroeconomic policy. They can mobilize resources for projects that no single region could undertake alone.

Weaknesses: They are almost inevitably experienced by peripheral groups as cultural erasure or domination. Legitimacy collapses when citizens feel the state is “someone else’s.” Resistance becomes inevitable, and the center ends up spending more energy suppressing dissent than delivering services. Local knowledge, initiative, and accountability are stifled.

Regional Maximization

The post-1991 ethnic-federal model inverted the equation. It prioritized self-rule for ethno-linguistic groups, granting regions extensive autonomy over language, education, security, and resources. The goal was representation and the protection of identity.

Strengths: This model dramatically expanded political voice for previously marginalized communities and allowed culturally grounded governance in diverse territories.

Weaknesses: It fragmented the national political economy. Regions became rival power centers engaged in competitive nationalism. Zero-sum bargaining over federal resources, land, and investment became routine. Collective-action problems, national security, cross-regional infrastructure, macroeconomic stability, proved chronically difficult to solve. The result was weak state capacity at the center precisely when citizens still expected the state to deliver national public goods.

Both models, in their purest forms, are “second-best” failures. In deeply divided societies, first-best solutions (perfect unity or perfect autonomy) are illusory. The real question is how to design institutions that live with the inescapable trade-offs.

Why Hybridity Is Necessary

Fragmented societies face permanent tensions between efficiency and legitimacy, coordination and autonomy. Pure centralization buys coordination at the price of legitimacy. Pure devolution buys legitimacy at the price of coordination. Sustainable governance therefore requires deliberate institutional synthesis, an architecture that distributes power while enforcing interdependence.

This is not theoretical idealism. Comparative evidence from India’s “cooperative federalism,” Canada’s asymmetric federalism, and even the European Union’s multilevel governance shows that hybrid systems can manage deep diversity better than binary models. Ethiopia’s context, where identity cleavages are both real and politically mobilized, makes hybridity not merely preferable but necessary for survival.

Medemer as Principled Hybridity

Medemer is literally means “addition” in Amharic or “coming together.” In its deeper philosophical sense, it denotes synergy, mutual benefit, and interdependence. Medemer is not a mere rhetorical unity that papers over differences or a loose confederation that abandons national cohesion.

Instead, Medemer is a normative principle (cooperation over competition), a governance philosophy (shared sovereignty), and a political ethic (mutual recognition and reciprocity). It treats regions and the federal center as co-dependent partners rather than rivals or subordinates.

Core Principles of Medemer

1. Mutual Recognition: Identities are acknowledged as legitimate sources of meaning and belonging, but not essentialized into permanent political castes. Recognition is the starting point for negotiation, not the end of politics.

2. Reciprocal Interdependence: Regions need the center for scale, security, and market access. The center needs regions for legitimacy, local implementation capacity, and policy innovation. This mutual interdependence must be institutionalized rather than assumed.

3. Layered Sovereignty: Authority is neither wholly centralized nor wholly devolved. It is distributed across levels and functions, with clear mechanisms for coordination where national interests are at stake.

4. Non-Zero-Sum Politics: Political competition is reframed from winner-takes-all ethnic bargaining to coalitional problem-solving. Gains for one region need not be losses for another when institutions reward positive-sum outcomes.

5. Deliberative Integration: Unity is negotiated continuously through dialogue, not imposed by decree. Constitutional review, intergovernmental councils, and public forums become routine venues for renegotiating the social contract.

Institutional Implications

Reimagining Federalism:

Move from pure and rigid type of federalism toward a hybrid model that combines functional federalism (cooperation on infrastructure, water, energy, and trade) with cooperative mechanisms. Strengthen the House of the Federation and create robust intergovernmental forums with binding arbitration powers for disputes.

Shared National Projects: Infrastructure corridors, national security architecture, and macroeconomic policy should be framed as joint ventures with explicit regional co-ownership. Revenue-sharing formulas, joint implementation bodies, and transparent performance metrics can reduce perceptions of central imposition.

Conflict Management: Institutionalize permanent dialogue platforms at national and regional levels. Medemer offers a conflict-transformation lens: disputes are not zero-sum battles over resources or identity but opportunities to renegotiate interdependence.

Political Culture Shift: Political parties and elites must move from ethnic mobilization to cross-cutting coalitions. Medemer rewards leaders who demonstrate restraint and inclusion rather than maximalist claims.

Risks and Critiques

Medemer is not immune to criticism. Skeptics rightly note that the concept can be vague, allowing it to be stretched in contradictory directions. It risks being co-opted as ideological cover for recentralization. Without clear institutional guardrails, it could remain aspirational rhetoric.

The response is straightforward: Medemer must be institutionalized, not merely invoked. Credible safeguards, constitutional protections for regional autonomy, independent courts, transparent fiscal rules, and veto powers on core identity issues, are non-negotiable. Hybridity works only when power is both shared and checked.

Conditions for Success

Medemer cannot succeed through philosophy alone. It requires:

- Political leadership willing to exercise restraint and practice inclusion rather than domination or fragmentation.

- Strong, independent institutions for intergovernmental negotiation and dispute resolution.

- Deliberate trust-building mechanisms across regions and communities.

- Civic narratives that honestly balance unity and diversity, neither romanticizing a mythical past nor weaponizing historical grievances.

From Trade-Off to Synthesis

Ethiopia’s fundamental challenge is not choosing between unity and autonomy. It is learning to live productively with both. Forced national synergy and regional maximization each generate predictable pathologies. Medemer does not eliminate trade-offs; it manages them more intelligently by turning interdependence into a design feature rather than a bug.

The future of Ethiopian statehood depends on whether we can translate Medemer from an attractive philosophical idea into a lived institutional reality. That work is hard, incremental, and often unglamorous. But it is the only path that offers a genuine chance to escape the cycle of oscillation between over-centralization and fragmentation.

The question is not whether Ethiopia can be perfectly unified or perfectly decentralized. The question is whether we can build institutions wise enough to add our differences rather than subtract them.

National synergy treats the country as a single optimization problem. Through central coordination, it pools resources to provide non-rival public goods, defense, monetary stability, large-scale infrastructure, research and development, pandemic response, and integrated markets. The expected payoff is super-additive: the whole exceeds the sum of its parts due to economies of scale, risk diversification, and the internalization of cross-regional externalities.

Regional maximization, by contrast, treats subnational units as independent optimizers. Regions design policies to maximize local welfare given their preferences, endowments, and constraints. This approach enhances local accountability and responsiveness but often ignores spillovers, encouraging competition rather than coordination.

Neither model is inherently normative; both are institutional mechanisms for allocating authority and resources. Their relative effectiveness depends on three conditions: (1) the depth and structure of societal fragmentation, (2) the type of goods being provided, and (3) the level of external threat.

The Coordination Problem in Fragmented Polities

Empirical research consistently shows that highly fractionalized societies tend to underprovide national public goods, exhibit higher corruption, and experience slower economic growth. The underlying mechanism is straightforward: low trust makes credible, enforceable national bargains difficult. In such environments, attempts at national synergy can breed resentment if perceived as coercive or redistributive without legitimacy. Conversely, regional maximization can deliver quick gains in local public goods provision but generates negative externalities, fiscal competition, duplication of institutions, and political fragmentation.

From a game-theoretic perspective, fragmented societies resemble a repeated Prisoner’s Dilemma with high discount rates and noisy information. Cooperation (national synergy) is collectively optimal but individually risky; defection (regional hoarding or obstruction) is safer in the short term. Sustained cooperation therefore requires either strong enforcement mechanisms or dense networks of repeated interaction under a shared identity. Without these, defection dominates.

This insight points to a critical condition: national synergy is not self-enforcing. Its success depends on building a credible civic identity and institutional trust that make cooperation rational rather than aspirational.

Comparative Lessons: Balancing Unity and Autonomy

Comparative experience suggests that neither extreme centralization nor unrestrained decentralization is sustainable. Countries that approximate a workable balance tend to combine regional autonomy with strong national guardrails. For example:

Canada employs asymmetric federalism, fiscal equalization, and high interprovincial mobility to reconcile diversity with cohesion. India leverages competitive federalism, allowing states to innovate while maintaining national integrity. Germany institutionalizes regional participation in national policymaking through the Bundesrat, aligning incentives across levels of government.

By contrast, over-centralization, where the state treats regions as extractive peripheries, has historically triggered backlash, ethnic party formation, and, in extreme cases, state collapse. The experiences of Yugoslavia, and Soviet Union illustrate how suppressed identities can re-emerge violently once central control weakens. At the other extreme, pure regional maximization without effective national coordination also proves unstable. In cases such as Somalia, weak central authority combined with localized power structures produced fragmentation and persistent conflict. Decentralization without shared rules or enforcement mechanisms risks devolving into competitive disorder.

Ethiopia: Between Cycles and Constraints

Ethiopia provides a particularly instructive case. Its modern political trajectory reflects oscillation between forced centralization and expansive regional autonomy, neither of which has produced stable equilibrium.

The post-1995 federal arrangement represented an explicit turn toward regional maximization, designed to accommodate extreme diversity. It achieved notable gains: recognition of linguistic and cultural rights, expansion of regional governance, and localized development initiatives. However, it also generated structural risks, parallel security institutions, zero-sum fiscal competition, and the entrenchment of ethnic elite mobilization at the expense of performance-based politics.

Yet Ethiopia has not disintegrated. Two factors, I believe, help explain this resilience: (1) National public goods provision has remained partially centralized and effective in key domains, flagship institutions, macroeconomic coordination, and large-scale projects have reinforced interdependence and (2) Cross-cutting cleavages, particularly religion and ethnicity, combined with urbanization, and economic interdependence, have complicated attempts to reduce politics to a single axis of identity.

Even so, Ethiopian politics continues to cycle between center-region tension rather than settling into stable synergy. The evidence suggests that both forced national unity and unconstrained regionalism are self-limiting strategies.

Toward a Stable Equilibrium

The central challenge is not choosing between national synergy and regional maximization, but structuring their interaction. The most viable pathway for deeply fragmented societies is a hybrid model: decentralization by default, centralization by design. This approach rests on three principles:

Subsidiarity with discipline: Local governments retain primary authority over context-specific policies, but within a rules-based system that prevents harmful spillovers.

Credible national guardrails: The center enforces a limited set of non-negotiable functions, macroeconomic stability, national security, and the integrity of the internal market.

Investment in civic integration: Deliberate cultivation of cross-cutting institutions, dialogue, education systems, language policies, national service, infrastructure networks, that gradually thicken a shared identity.

Over time, successful performance at both levels can transform the underlying game: trust increases, discount rates fall, and cooperation becomes self-sustaining rather than externally enforced.

Conclusion

National synergy is theoretically superior where scale economies and externalities dominate, but it is institutionally fragile in low-trust environments. Regional maximization is more immediately robust, yet it sacrifices coordination and risks collective inefficiency. Neither model alone can govern deeply divided societies. The least-bad path lies in disciplined hybridity, anchoring decentralization within a framework of enforceable national rules, while steadily investing in the social foundations of cooperation. In contexts like Ethiopia, the long-term project is not merely institutional design, but the gradual construction of a civic compact capable of making national synergy both credible and legitimate.

Heroism, the act of courage, sacrifice and exceptional contribution, is not necessarily inborn or discovered, it is constructed and nurtured. Societies identify these acts of courage, sacrifice, or exceptional contribution, amplify them through shared stories, and embed them in monuments, curricula, and collective memory to forge unity, transmit morality, and give direction. Ethiopia once mastered this machinery. Today, the machine is cracking. A paralyzing groupthink now destroys both ordinary citizens and extraordinary talent. We push young people into impossible roles, lie to them that they alone can save us, then abandon them when they stumble. We have already lost too many good people and are busy destroying more. This is a toxic culture Ethiopia must reject. Leaders, heroes, and innovators must be protected and nurtured to maturity, not sacrificed prematurely.

The Universal Mechanics of Hero-Making

Heroes often emerge in moments of war, disaster, or upheaval, when societies hunger for exemplars. Gatekeepers, elders, media, and leaders, select which acts to elevate, filter them through prevailing values, and distill complex lives into clean archetypes. Education, art, holidays, and statues then lock the myth in place. The result is cultural technology: transmitting values, binding people, legitimizing the present, and pointing toward the future. Some nations celebrate lone giants; others honor collective grit. The process is the same, deliberate, functional, and powerful.

Ethiopia’s Historic Mastery

Ethiopia once ran this machinery at exception and with full power. The 1896 Battle of Adwa turned a defensive victory into an African legend. Emperor Menelik II and the ordinary fighters who bled on those slopes became eternal symbols of sovereignty and pride. The towering Adwa Memorial and the equestrian statue of Menelik in Addis Ababa still stand as deliberate instruments of hero-making, physical proof that Ethiopia could bend history.

A telling detail reveals the genius of the system. Fitawrari Gebeyehu Gurmu fell in the first hours of the Adwa battle. Dejazmach Balcha Safo stepped in without hesitation, kept Gebeyehu’s name alive among the troops, and used the slain hero’s aura to inspire and unify the ranks. One hero’s death created space for another. That seamless handoff, honoring the fallen while pressing forward, embodied the machinery at its best.

The Contemporary Collapse

Today the same machinery turns against its own. We’re in a sort of metaphysical stage in societal development. We disowned the traditional hierarchy where elders have to take the role of running the machine. On the other hand, intense familial and national pressure casts every gifted young professional as “our only hope.” The message is relentless: carry the family, carry the ethnic group, carry the nation. Yet the scaffolding, quality mentorship, failure-tolerant education, economic safety nets, institutional follow-through, is missing.

Worse, a cult of instant heroism has taken root. Ethiopians often elevate eloquent voices who insult opponents or deliver a strong public stand with the chant “our hero, our hero.” The praise is loud but short-lived. The same person is then expected to excel in unrelated fields, politics, business, academia, as if talent were a revelation rather than a specialized skill. We reject the idea of profession and specialization, preferring all-round genius. This creates a vicious cycle of hype, unrealistic expectation, and crushing disappointment.

Ordinary innovators are smothered. Extraordinary ones are elevated too high, too soon, then dropped. Over-applause without practical support damages the immature most of all. We cannot manufacture heroes by hype alone. It rather costs us by putting the aspiring youth in difficult dilemma. It’s at time equivalent with applauding people to jump from the roof of the building.

Why the Imbalance Persists

The heroic narratives we inherited remain anchored in external triumph. They breed grand expectations. But today’s realities, institutional fragility, education gaps, economic pressure, and ethnic tension, offer no soft landing. Collectivism, once a source of strength, now amplifies both the pride that pushes talent forward and the shame that punishes any stumble. Without recalibration, the hero-making process no longer generates; it consumes.

Toward a Resilient System

Ethiopia does not need to abandon its tradition of heroic symbolism, it needs to modernize it. Broaden the definition of heroism to celebrate sustained, everyday excellence: the teacher who stays in a remote school, the entrepreneur who creates jobs amid scarcity, the public servant who chooses integrity over ease. Build the missing scaffolding, mentorship pipelines, safe spaces to iterate and fail, incremental recognition, and genuine youth leadership programs with real follow-through.

Teaching realistic heroism in schools: effort over genius, resilience over perfection, collective strength that protects individuals rather than crushing them. Institutionalization of balanced encouragement, awards for process and grit, not just outcomes; public rituals that honor both past glory and present perseverance is critically important. Respect specialization. Replace empty applause that doesn’t sustain with practical support.

The same cultural depth and historical consciousness that produced Adwa can now produce a new generation, not fragile saviors shattered by expectation, but resilient contributors equipped for the long work of national renewal. The machine does not need dismantling. It needs learning from our past, and tuning it to fit the current reality.

When aspiration is matched with support, and encouragement is paired with protection, Ethiopia will once again show the world how societies deliberately build the heroes they need, not only in moments of elections, but for the steady, generational labor of renewal. The cracking must stop. The forging must resume wisely, deliberately, and with care.

In this piece, I explore the Battle of Adwa through the lens of collective action. I tap into a sociological theory of collective action that examines how individuals come together to pursue shared goals, especially when doing so seems irrational from a self-interest standpoint. At its core, the theory addresses overcoming the free-rider problem and hinges on three key ideas: 1) incentives, 2) organization, and 3) group size.

Mancur Olson, a thinker closely associated with the theory of collective action, argues that people need selective incentives to join collective efforts, especially in large groups where individual contributions may feel invisible. He posits that the smaller the group, the less room for the freeriders. Without incentives however, Olson believes a rational actor tends to be reluctant to participate in larger groups and emphasizes the importance of organization, as someone must coordinate the chaos, align goals, and enforce participation.

The Battle of Adwa, fought on March 1, 1896, where Ethiopian forces decisively defeated the Italian army, offers a fascinating case to examine the principles of collective action theory. While Olson argues that the success of collective action depends on selective incentives, coordination, and cohesive groups, the Battle of Adwa seems to challenge these assumptions in several ways.

Adwa Beats Both Theoretical and Practical Odds

The Battle of Adwa defies multiple principles stipulated in the theory of collective action. First, the Battle involved an astonishingly large and diverse troop drawn from various ethnic groups, regions, and social strata in the country. Although the theory predicts such a massive, heterogeneous group would struggle with coordination and motivation, the Ethiopian forces displayed remarkable unity and discipline, defying the expectation that large-scale collective action dilutes effectiveness due to logistical or commitment issues.

Moreover, and to the surprise of Olson, Ethiopia was facing serious internal division in 1896, with regional lords still fighting the expanding forces of Emperor Menelik II. However, the Emperor pulled off what Olson might call the improbable: mobilizing a massive force to defeat the Italian invading army. He rallied tens of thousands from across the country. This mobilization was not without incentive, however. The Emperor leveraged a mix of incentives, including the tangible threat of Italian conquest (a classic common enemy uniting factor), promises of land, and appeals to Ethiopian sovereignty. These strategies likely helped reduce the free-rider problem Olson highlights, where individuals might otherwise refrain from contributing, allowing others to bear the burden.

The second issue relates to the motivation of the fighters. The motivation behind Adwa does not align neatly with the theory’s emphasis on selective incentives like personal rewards or punishments. Some argue that the Ethiopian resistance was driven by a shared sense of collective identity and the urgent need to protect sovereignty against external colonial encroachment, as well as resisting internal encroachments. This collective spirit transcended individual or internal group gain, suggesting that cultural and ideological solidarity can overpower the rational-choice logic that Olson posits, where individuals supposedly act only when personal benefits outweigh costs.

Under the leadership of Emperor Menelik and Empress Taytu, alongside regional lords, a patchwork of forces was transformed into a cohesive army. They pooled resources, combining rifles with traditional spears, and used Ethiopia’s rugged terrain to their advantage. This collaboration turned a fragmented society into a war machine. Empress Taytu’s role in rallying troops and securing water at Adwa demonstrates how effective leadership addressed the logistical gaps Olson identified, which large groups often struggle with. While Ethiopia’s troop size might suggest potential coordination nightmares, the existential stakes appear to have flipped the script.

Third, Adwa challenges the idea that collective action weakens in the face of a stronger opponent. While Italy had superior weaponry and imperial backing, Ethiopia’s decentralized, community-based mobilization, where warriors brought their own supplies and relied on local knowledge, triumphed. This undermines the notion that collective efforts require centralized control or resources to succeed, demonstrating instead how adaptive grassroots organization can outmaneuver a more "rational" military machine.

The theory of collective action often downplays ideology, focusing primarily on rational choice. However, Adwa suggests that identity cannot be ignored in the dynamics of collective action. Ethiopia’s long history as an independent state fostered a sense of “us versus them” against Italy’s imperial ambitions. As a result, a collective identity served as rocket fuel for Ethiopians to achieve this remarkable victory. Fighters were motivated not only by the prospect of loot or their internal cohesion but by the defense of a legacy against a foreign “other.” Their struggle was not just about material gain; it was a defense of a way of life. A shared narrative of resisting foreign domination likely lowered the barriers to participation, making collective action emotionally compelling rather than merely pragmatic.

Adwa flips the script on collective action theory by showcasing how a massive, diverse population, fueled by existential stakes rather than individual rewards, overcame the odds. It suggests that under certain conditions, such as a threat to identity or independence, collective action can thrive beyond the constraints predicted by the theory, revealing its limitations in capturing the full spectrum of human cooperation. Thus, Adwa stands out as a test of the theory that formally emerged half a century later. That also makes Adwa not just a military victory; but a triumph of social organization, shared identity and strategic incentives, and a defining moment in world history.

Adwa; a Defining Moment in World History

The Battle of Adwa holds immense significance as a landmark event in Ethiopian, African, and global history. This decisive victory of Ethiopian forces over the Italian colonial army not only preserved Ethiopia's sovereignty but also resonated deeply in the social, cultural, and political fabric of societies far beyond the Ethiopian borders. It is indeed a defining moment where multiple elements get meanings at a global scale.

First, Adwa is a defining moment for our identity as Ethiopians, Africans, members of the Global South, and citizens of the world. Adwa marks the end of the Eurocentric thinking that inspired colonialism. It, at least theoretically, put an end to the hierarchical relationship between Europe and the Global South. It convincingly showed to the world that Africans are not inferior as they first predicted. Adwa remains a living example that freedom's not something handed out to you, rather what you earn by fighting for.

Second, Adwa represents a defining moment of resistance against colonialism. It inspired African nations to strengthen their defiance against colonial powers and bolstered Pan-Africanism across the African Diaspora, influencing emerging Pan-Africanist thought. It fostered a sense of agency and pride among colonized and oppressed peoples worldwide, challenging the prevailing racial hierarchies that underpinned colonial ideology, which portrayed Africans as inherently inferior and incapable of organized resistance. Adwa became a beacon of hope, inspiring anti-colonial movements and shaping collective identities rooted in defiance and self-determination.

Third, Adwa is a defining moment for Ethiopia's collective memory and identity. It served as a unifying force for the Ethiopian people and marked the birth of true Ethiopian patriotism and nationalism, which later became a cornerstone for Ethiopian resistance against the Italian inventors. The battle had a profound impact on Ethiopian society itself, forging a stronger sense of Ethiopian national identity and reinforcing the idea of Ethiopia as a multiethnic yet cohesive polity. It continues to shape Ethiopia’s self-perception as an independent and resilient nation.

Lessons for the Future

The Battle of Adwa is a masters class in collective action. It holds enduring lessons drawn from its historical context as a decisive Ethiopian victory over Italian colonial forces. This triumph resonates beyond its military significance, offering insights into how unity beats all sorts of odds, how strategic leadership aligns massive and diverse groups and how resilient, adaptability and balance challenges the dominant narrative and bears transcending victory. The following can be taken as the major lessons learnt from Adwa victory.

Unity Beats All Odds: The Ethiopian victory at Adwa was a triumph of collective action, where the leadership rallied diverse groups and regional leaders to unite against a common threat. This suggests that solidarity, by setting aside internal small differences, can amplify our ability to overcome bigger challenges.

Strategic Leadership: Emperor Menelik II, Empress Taytu, and the generals used careful planning, leveraging local knowledge of the terrain and exploiting the Italians’ overconfidence and logistical weaknesses. From this we learn that strategic thinking and understanding our environment carefully can turn the odds in our favor, even when resources are limited. This demonstrates that a clear and unifying purpose can transform individual struggles into a powerful collective movement.

Resilience Under Pressure: The Ethiopian forces faced a better-armed Italian army, yet their determination and morale held firm. This resilience can inspire us to maintain hope and perseverance, even in dire conditions, trusting that collective endurance can lead to breakthroughs.

Challenging Dominant Narratives: The Ethiopian victory at Adwa shattered European assumptions of racial and military superiority, forcing a rethinking of Africa’s place in the world. Adwa is a defining moment of identity, sending a signal to question established power structures and stereotypes today, pushing for a more equitable global perspective where marginalized voices are heard and respected. Nothing should be taken for granted..

Adaptability: The Ethiopians made effective use of what they had, including diplomatic maneuvers and guerrilla tactics. This teaches us the lesson that creativity and adaptability, even with limited means, can yield significant results.

Prioritization: while it remains an inspiration to many colonized nations and celebrated every year in Ethiopia, Adwa’s legacy is nuanced. The fact that there was internal expansion for unification at the same time, which nations in the southern part of Ethiopia still view as domination rather than liberation, teaches us that balancing was key to the victory. This duality also shows the farsightedness of the regional leaders who traded internal issues for external threats. We need to critically examine the dualities behind the victory, recognizing that progress is achieved in unison but also strive to achieve inclusive outcomes in our modern struggles to build a fairer and better nation.

Conclusion

The significance of the Battle of Adwa lies in its role as a catalyst for identity formation, resistance, and social empowerment. Adwa represents a pivotal moment that disrupted colonial narratives, united diverse communities, and inspired global movements against oppression. Its legacy endures as a testament to the power of collective action and the enduring human drive for autonomy and dignity. In this context, Adwa serves as a counterpoint to Olson's theory, demonstrating that even a large and diverse group can achieve extraordinary outcomes when the cause is visceral and leadership is effective. Unlike Olson’s critique, which suggests that large groups struggle to act without selective incentives, the Battle of Adwa illustrates how existential stakes can unite even a sprawling coalition.

Therefore, the Battle of Adwa presents a compelling case study for collective action theory. Olson, a prominent figure in this field, argued that people require selective incentives to participate, particularly in large groups. However, the Battle of Adwa defied Olson’s expectations in several ways. First, despite involving a massive and diverse army, Ethiopian forces exhibited remarkable unity and discipline. Second, the motivation behind Adwa extended beyond personal gain. Third, under strong leadership, a fragmented society was transformed into a cohesive fighting force. Moreover, Adwa challenges the notion that collective action weakens when facing a stronger opponent. It also highlights the importance of identity in collective action, highlighting how Ethiopia's long history of independence fostered a sense of unity against Italian colonialism.

This battle exemplifies a master class in collective action, showcasing a leader who successfully mobilized diverse actors, aligned their interests, and harnessed identity to defy the odds. It challenges the pessimism of Olson’s theory regarding large-scale cooperation, demonstrating that under the right conditions such as threat, leadership, and meaningful purpose, collective action can achieve extraordinary results.

In conclusion, Adwa serves as a powerful example of collective action, where a diverse large population united to overcome significant challenges. It highlights the importance of unity, strategic leadership, resilience, shared purpose, adaptability, and a strong collective identity. The victory at Adwa not only preserved Ethiopia's independence but also inspired anti-colonial movements worldwide. Adwa’s legacy resonates as a story of unity overcoming adversity, serving as a reminder that collective purpose and solidarity can triumph over division. It is a victory etched in history, celebrated annually in Ethiopia and revered as a beacon of hope and pride for the colonized nations.

This pattern is far from isolated. Human rights reports document widespread intimidation of journalists, activists, and intellectuals in Ethiopia, with social media platforms amplifying hate speech and incitement that sometimes spills into real-world violence. Incidents triggers a wave of online toxicity and offline unrest that exposed how quickly polarized discourse can escalate. Our diaspora networks often intensify domestic divisions through inflammatory campaigns. In such an atmosphere, speaking one’s mind, especially from a position of scholarly independence, invites backlash unimaginable in healthier democratic spaces. Yet these painful experiences also teaches invaluable lessons: the necessity of measured responses, the futility of retaliation, and the quiet power of steadfast principle amid chaos.

Human moral behavior rests on two intertwined systems. The external system relies on social reinforcement: we avoid wrongdoing to gain approval, avoid shame, escape punishment, or protect our reputation within the community. The internal system is conscience-driven: we refrain from harm because it aligns with our values, preserves self-respect, and avoids the pain of guilt or self-betrayal.

In a healthy, just society, these systems align harmoniously, virtue earns both external reward and internal satisfaction.

In a toxic, corrupt, or hostile environment, however, the external system inverts. Integrity is punished, while conformity or cruelty is rewarded. Good actions invite backlash, misrepresentation, or retaliation more often than bad ones. Over time, this distorted feedback loop erodes the motivating power of external judgment. The mind adapts by desensitizing, becoming “numb”, to invalid criticism, gaslighting, or threats. This numbness however is not moral erosion or apathy; it is a protective mechanism that safeguards mental health against despair or destructive retaliation.

What remains is the internal system, now the primary anchor. You uphold principles not for absent rewards or to avoid inverted punishments, but to maintain inner coherence and self-respect. This is morality at its most resilient and mature: acting rightly because it is intrinsically right, independent of the crowd’s approval.

Psychologically, this shift prevents self-fragmentation. Committing an act you inwardly know is wrong would create unbearable cognitive dissonance and self-betrayal, wounds especially devastating in an already hostile world.

This pattern appears consistently in accounts of people enduring prolonged oppression, authoritarian regimes, or corrosive social climates. It echoes higher stages of moral development (e.g., Kohlberg’s post-conventional stage) and philosophical traditions like Stoicism, which teach us to focus only on what is within our control, our own character, while releasing attachment to external opinion.

Far from weakness or detachment, holding firmly to this internal line amid numbness to external attacks is a mark of profound strength and moral maturity. It is how the self remains intact and authentic when the surrounding society can no longer be trusted to reflect truth or justice.

In the scorched landscapes of northern Ethiopia during the early 1980s, one of the most devastating famines in modern history unfolded. Drought, compounded by civil war and government policies, claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, leaving behind scenes of unimaginable suffering. It was amid this catastrophe that Abebech Gobena, a devout woman on a religious pilgrimage, encountered a sight that would redefine her existence and touch millions of lives.

“As we were going home we came upon five people, three of them dead, two alive,” she later recounted. “One of the dying men by the side of the road asked me to take his child. I did. Then I found a baby girl sucking her dead mother’s breast. I took her, too.” With only a loaf of bread and five liters of holy water to distribute, Abebech could not turn away. That moment marked the beginning of a lifelong mission.

Known worldwide as the “Mother Teresa of Africa,” Dr. Abebech Gobena founded one of Ethiopia’s oldest and most impactful orphanages, the Abebech Gobena Children’s Care and Development Association (AGCCDA), now rebranded as Abebech Gobena Charity. Over four decades, her organization rescued thousands of orphans from starvation and disease, provided education and healthcare to hundreds of thousands, and extended community support programs that benefited over 1.5 million people across Addis Ababa and Oromia regions.

Though biologically childless, she became “Emaye” i.e wonderful mother, to generations of vulnerable children. Her story of compassion, resilience, and faith continues to inspire, especially as friends, family, and communities in Ethiopia and beyond organize events to honor her enduring legacy years after her passing in 2021. This biographical article traces Abebech Gobena’s journey: from a childhood shadowed by loss and tradition, through the transformative famine encounter that ignited her calling, to building a humanitarian empire amid immense challenges, and finally to her lasting impact as a beacon of hope in Africa.

Early Life and Childhood: Roots of Resilience

Dr. Abebech Gobena was born around 1935, in the rural village of Salalee, Oromia Region. Her early years were marked by profound tragedy: when she was barely a year old, Italian forces invading Ethiopia during the Second Italo-Ethiopian War killed her father. Raised primarily by her mother and grandfather Heye Bedissie, Abebech grew up in a traditional rural society where poverty and cultural norms shaped daily life.

Rural Ethiopia in the 1930s and 1940s was a world of subsistence farming, strong community ties, and rigid gender expectations. Girls often faced limited education and early marriage. At age 10 or 11, tradition dictated that Abebech enter an arranged marriage – a practice common then but one she fiercely rejected. Demonstrating extraordinary courage for her age, she fled the marriage and journeyed alone to Addis Ababa, the capital, seeking independence and opportunity.

In the bustling city, young Abebech navigated hardships while pursuing basic education. She took on various jobs to survive, eventually finding stability. These formative experiences – losing her father to war, witnessing rural poverty, and defying oppressive traditions – instilled in her a deep empathy for the vulnerable, especially children and women facing similar fates. Her early resilience foreshadowed the determination that would later define her humanitarian work.

Young Adulthood: Building Stability and Spiritual Foundation

In Addis Ababa, Abebech carved out a life of relative security. She attended school and worked diligently, including as a quality controller in coffee and grain export companies, roles that provided financial independence in a male-dominated economy. She remarried, building a family life grounded in her profound Ethiopian Orthodox Christian faith. Regular pilgrimages to holy sites became a cornerstone of her spiritual practice, offering solace and strengthening her belief in divine calling.

This period of stability was crucial. It allowed Abebech to develop the organizational skills and resourcefulness she would later need. Friends and colleagues recall her as charismatic, disciplined, and deeply compassionate even then. Her faith, in particular, played a pivotal role: she often credited God for guiding her actions, viewing service to the needy as a religious duty. Yet, nothing prepared her for the crisis that would upend her comfortable life and launch her into history.

The Turning Point: The 1980s Famine and the Call to Action

The early 1980s brought catastrophe to Ethiopia. A severe drought, exacerbated by the Derg military regime’s policies and ongoing civil conflict, triggered a famine that claimed millions of lives, primarily in Wollo, Tigray, and northern regions. International aid was slow, partly because the government downplayed the crisis to avoid embarrassment.

In 1980, Abebech embarked on a pilgrimage to the holy site of Gishen Mariam in Wollo. What she witnessed shattered her: roads lined with corpses, feeding centers overwhelmed, families dying en masse. In one shelter, she saw children orphaned and starving beside their deceased parents. The defining moment came when she found a baby girl still attempting to nurse from her dead mother’s breast. Unable to ignore the plea in the child’s eyes, Abebech took her. Soon after, a dying man entrusted her with his child.

Risking her safety, as openly acknowledging the famine could invite government scrutiny, Abebech began smuggling orphans back to Addis Ababa. She shared her home’s limited resources, facing opposition from her husband and family who worried about the strain. Within a year, she had rescued 21 children. “I never put a price on a child,” she famously said, encapsulating her unwavering commitment.

Building a Lifelong Mission: Founding and Expanding AGCCDA

What began informally in Abebech’s home evolved into a formal organization. In the early 1980s, she established Abebech Gobena Children’s Care and Development Association, starting in a modest poultry house on her property. It was officially registered in 1986 as a nonprofit.

From humble beginnings, AGCCDA grew exponentially. It provided residential care for orphans, formal and non-formal education, vocational training in skills like sewing and carpentry, healthcare through a maternity and pediatric hospital, clean water wells, HIV/AIDS support, and women’s empowerment programs. The organization trained low-income women, distributed aid, and addressed poverty alleviation, reaching beyond orphans to entire communities.

By the 2000s, AGCCDA had become one of East Africa’s most successful orphanages, with facilities in Addis Ababa and outreach in Oromia. It emphasized self-sufficiency: “Unless I give them skills, it is better not to bring them here,” Abebech believed, ensuring children grew into independent adults.

Challenges and Personal Sacrifices

Abebech Gobena’s path to becoming a beacon of compassion was marked by profound personal trials that tested her resolve from childhood onward. She lost her father to Italian forces shortly after her birth and raised by her mother and grandparents amid poverty and hardship. At the age of 10, she faced societal norms that limited opportunities for girls and forced into an arranged marriage to an older man, a common practice rooted in tradition and child marriage customs prevalent in rural Ethiopia at the time. Refusing to accept this fate, she escaped through the roof of her hut and fled to Addis Ababa, where she rebuilt her life through sheer determination: pursuing basic education, securing jobs, and eventually remarrying.

These early experiences of loss, escape, and resilience forged her deep empathy for the vulnerable, particularly children. Yet, the greatest sacrifices came when she began her humanitarian work in 1980. During a pilgrimage to the holy site of Gishen Mariam in famine-stricken Wollo province, Abebech witnessed unimaginable suffering: starving families, dead parents, and orphaned infants. She distributed her own loaf of bread and five liters of holy water to the dying, then rescued a baby still suckling at her deceased mother’s breast, smuggling the child and back to Addis Ababa by disguising them as her own to evade scrutiny.

What started with two orphans quickly grew to 21 by the end of that year, then hundreds more. This influx overwhelmed her home, sparking fierce opposition from her husband and extended family. They viewed her actions as madness, her relatives even suggested institutionalization for mental health concerns. Finally, she was given an ultimatum of choosing between the orphans and her marriage. She chose the children, leading to separation and eventual divorce, a devastating personal loss that stripped her of companionship, stability, and family support. Some accounts describe her husband locking her in a room to curb her efforts, underscoring the intensity of the conflict. Undeterred, she relocated with the children to a small chicken shed on forested land she had purchased for poultry farming, living in rudimentary conditions to provide for them.

Financial strains were relentless. Having achieved modest affluence as a quality control inspector in a grain and coffee export company, owning property, vehicles, and jewelry, she sacrificed it all. She sold personal assets, including her gold jewelry, to buy food, clothing, and medicine, while supplementing income through small-scale poultry and donations. Health risks loomed large: rescuing children from famine zones exposed her to disease, malnutrition-related dangers, and physical exhaustion, including later injuries like a broken arm from her tireless work.

The political environment under the Marxist Derg regime added layers of peril. The government suppressed famine awareness to maintain control, restricted aid flows, and viewed independent efforts with suspicion. Abebech smuggled children past checkpoints, navigated bureaucratic hurdles, and operated informally until securing legal registration in 1986 as Biruh Tesfa Children’s Village and School. These acts carried real risks of arrest. Yet, her faith sustained her through all this. “I have no children of my own but I have a family of hundreds of thousands and I have no regrets,” she reflected. Her determination turned challenges into triumphs.

Achievements, Recognition, and Global Acclaim

Abebech Gobena’s tireless humanitarian efforts garnered widespread acclaim, both within Ethiopia and internationally, earning her over 200 awards, honors, and certificates from national and global institutions. Among the most prestigious was an honorary doctorate in humanitiesfrom Jimma University, in recognition of her lifelong service. This accolade formally bestowed upon her the title “Dr.,” which she carried with humility as a symbol of national pride.

Her other notable recognitions included the Second World Food Program International Women’s Day Award, a Cup and Certificate of Merit from the United Nations Association of Ethiopia, Family Federation for World Peace, and the United Nations Volunteers Program, as well as certificates for contributions to the Silver Jubilee of the Christian Relief and Development Association (CCRDA). She also received medals and merits from Addis Ababa University, incentive awards from various international organizations, and over a hundred additional prizes reflecting her exemplary work in child welfare and poverty alleviation.

International media frequently dubbed her the “Mother Teresa of Africa” or “Ethiopia’s icon of compassion,” a moniker that captured her selfless devotion to the vulnerable. Tributes poured in from Ethiopian leaders, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed described her as a national hero of compassion, along with global figures, including World Health Organization Director-General Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, who called her “one of the most selfless and pure-hearted people I ever met.” Her broader contributions extended far beyond orphan care: she empowered women through vocational skill training, combated HIV/AIDS stigma and provided prevention education and medical care, built infrastructure such as wells and latrines, improved habitats in rural communities, and set enduring standards for child welfare in Ethiopia. Through her organisation, she supported over 1.5 million people directly or indirectly via holistic programs that promoted self-reliance, education, health, and community development, transforming vulnerability into opportunity and leaving an indelible mark on Ethiopian society.

Later Years, Passing, and National Mourning

Even into her 80s, Dr. Abebech Gobena remained remarkably active, overseeing the organization’s expansions despite health challenges. She lived with a pacemaker for over 16 years following heart-related issues, underwent multiple surgeries, and in her final years received home-based medical care and follow-up from physicians. Yet she continued to inspire staff and interact closely with the children, even playing with rowdy groups while recovering from injuries like a broken arm. She transitioned day-to-day management to a dedicated board and executive team while retaining lifelong oversight as General Manager, refusing a salary and donating personal resources to sustain the work.

On July 4, 2021, at age 85, she succumbed to complications from COVID-19 at St. Paul’s Hospital in Addis Ababa, after weeks of intensive care. Her passing sent shockwaves across Ethiopia and beyond, evoking profound national grief for a woman who had become a living symbol of compassion. Her state funeral on July 6, 2021, at Holy Trinity Cathedral in Addis Ababa was a grand yet heartfelt tribute. Thousands gathered, including high-ranking government officials and other prominent figures. The Patriarch of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, Abune Mathias, presided over the ceremony, which featured a military escort for her coffin through the streets to Meskel Square before the final rites, reflecting the nation’s deep respect for her as a humanitarian icon. Mourners, alumni, family, and supporters shared stories of lives transformed, underscoring her legacy as “Emaye” (Mother) to generations.

Today, events organized by family, alumni, and supporters keep her memory alive. Annual commemorations, testimonials, films, and gatherings feature stories from those she raised, many now credit her for their education, skills, and self-reliance. These narratives highlight how her vision turned orphans into contributors to society.

Legacy and Inspiration for Future Generations

Rebranded as Abebech Gobena Charity, Abebech Gobena Children’s Care and Development Association, continuing and expanding Dr. Abebech’s foundational work in child welfare, education, health services, women’s empowerment, and poverty alleviation programs across Addis Ababa and Oromia regions. It provides institutional care for orphans, family-based foster support, supplementary feeding for vulnerable children and mothers, skill training for women, non-formal education centers, HIV/AIDS prevention, habitat improvements, and income-generating activities to promote self-sufficiency.

Recent initiatives include ongoing fundraising campaigns, partnerships for community development, and recognition as the Welfare & Empowerment NPO of the Year 2025 - Ethiopia by Acquisition International, affirming its continued excellence. The charity has built facilities like the Abebech Gobena Mothers’ and Children’s Hospital and collaborates on health sciences education (e.g., Salale University’s Abebech Gobena Campus College of Health Sciences). Thousands of alumni actively contribute to Ethiopian society as professionals and leaders, embodying her vision of raising self-reliant individuals who give back.

Abebech’s lessons, selfless love, faith-driven action, and the power of one determined individual to spark widespread change, remain timeless. In a world still facing crises like poverty, displacement, and health challenges, her story inspires action: support orphans and vulnerable children, empower women through education and skills, combat stigma around diseases like HIV/AIDS, or perform everyday acts of kindness in our communities.

Conclusion: A Beacon of Hope Endures

Dr. Abebech Gobena’s extraordinary journey began in the rural village of Salalee, Oromia Region, where profound loss and hardship shaped her resilient spirit. Born in 1935, she lost her father to war shortly after her birth and, at the tender age of 10, courageously escaped a forced child marriage by fleeing to Addis Ababa. These early trials, poverty, societal constraints on girls, and the weight of tradition, could have defined a life of limitation, yet they ignited in her an unyielding empathy for the vulnerable. From these humble and painful beginnings, she rose to become a national and continental icon, transforming personal adversity into a lifelong mission of compassion that touched countless lives across Ethiopia and beyond.

What started with a single act of mercy in 1980, rescuing an orphaned infant amid the devastating famine in Wollo, grew into a monumental legacy of care and empowerment. Through immense personal sacrifices, including divorce, financial ruin, and health risks, Dr. Abebech built an enduring institution that has directly saved and uplifted thousands of orphans while indirectly benefiting over a million through education, health services, women’s skill training, and poverty alleviation programs. Her work not only provided shelter and hope to the forsaken but also challenged societal stigmas, promoted self-reliance, and set new standards for child welfare in Ethiopia, earning her the affectionate title “Mother Teresa of Africa” and over 200 global honors.

In 2026 and beyond, as the rebranded Abebech Gobena Charity continues to thrive with new initiatives, alumni successes, and community partnerships, her light shines ever brighter. Thousands of professionals, doctors, teachers, leaders, now contribute to society because of the foundation she laid, embodying her vision of turning vulnerability into strength. Dr. Abebech Gobena’s life reminds us that one individual’s faith-driven resolve can spark profound change, inspiring us all to embrace selfless love and act with kindness in our own communities, fostering a more humane, equitable, and caring world for generations to come.

Africa’s post-colonial era is marked by a profound irony: the very movements that dismantled colonial empires and fought for self-determination often morphed into authoritarian regimes, perpetuating oppression against their own citizens. This “liberation dilemma” often stems from the militarized nature of many independence struggles, where revolutionary hierarchies prioritized control over democratic pluralism, leading to elite capture of power and the suppression of dissent in the name of national unity. In 1961, Frantz Fanonn said post-independence elites would exploit the masses, replacing colonial rulers while glorifying the struggle to mask personal enrichment and authoritarianism.

This pattern is evident across the African continent, from Zimbabwe’s ZANU-PF under Robert Mugabe, which devolved into corruption and repression after ousting white minority rule, to Uganda’s NRM under Yoweri Museveni, where liberation credentials justified indefinite rule and curtailed freedoms. In southern Africa, former liberation movements like Angola’s MPLA and Mozambique’s FRELIMO have been criticized for authoritarian populism, cultivating exile-era ideologies that stifle opposition and promote a “winner-takes-all” mentality.

Rwanda’s RPF and South Africa’s ANC illustrate how parties emerging from violent crises can suspend full democratization, justifying extraordinary mandates through narratives of incomplete revolutions under threat. This dilemma underscores a broader failure: liberation often achieved border and flag independence but not true emancipation from poverty, inequality, or tyranny, as colonial legacies of arbitrary borders and weak institutions exacerbated internal divisions.

Eritrea’s 30-Year Liberation Fight

Eritrea’s struggle for independence exemplifies the heroism and sacrifice of African liberation wars. The conflict began on September 1, 1961, when Hamid Idris Awate and a small group of insurgents from the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF) fired the first shots against Ethiopian forces in the village of Adal, marking the start of Africa’s longest armed independence struggle. Rooted in Emperor Haile Selassie’s unilateral annexation of Eritrea in 1962, violating a UN-mandated federation, the war pitted Eritrean nationalists against the Emperor’s regime and later the Soviet-backed Derg under Mengistu Haile Mariam.

Isaias Afwerki, a young engineering student, joined the ELF in 1966 and rose quickly, but ideological rifts led him to co-found the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) in 1973. Under Isaias’s leadership, the EPLF emphasized self-reliance, discipline, and broad mobilization across ethnic and religious lines, engaging in guerrilla warfare that included a strategic retreat to the Nakfa mountains in the late 1970s.

The war, spanning three decades, claimed hundreds of thousands of lives and displaced millions, but the EPLF’s resilience culminated in victory on May 24, 1991, when they captured Asmara, ending Ethiopian control. A UN-supervised referendum in 1993 saw 99.8% of Eritreans vote for independence, birthing a new nation amid global optimism. Isaias, hailed as a hero, became president, symbolizing the triumph of African self-determination. He vowed to make Eritrea the Singapore of Africa.

Eritrea’s 30+ Years of Oppression

Tragically, Eritrea’s liberation has devolved into one of the world’s most repressive states under Isaias Afwerki’s unbroken rule since 1993, now over 32 years, mirroring the war’s duration. Once a liberator, Isaias has been described as shifting “from heroic liberator to iron-fisted saboteur” of independence.

The 1997 constitution, ratified by referendum, remains unimplemented; no national elections have occurred; and the legislature has not convened since 2010. Human Rights Watch’s 2025 World Report labels Eritrea a “militarized authoritarian state,” with indefinite national service, originally 18 months, evolving into lifelong forced labor, amounting to slavery and driving mass exodus.

Amnesty International reports persistent arbitrary detentions, torture, enforced disappearances, and restrictions on freedoms of expression, religion, and assembly, with returnees facing death or abuse. A 2016 UN Commission of Inquiry accused the regime of crimes against humanity, findings echoed in 2025 reports of over 10,000 arbitrarily detained, including the “G-15” dissidents vanished since 2001. Eritrean forces’ involvement in Ethiopia’s Tigray conflict has included abductions, sexual violence, and looting, per UN and HRW accounts.

In 2025, the UN Human Rights Council rejected Eritrea’s bid to terminate the mandate of the Special Rapporteur, citing no meaningful progress on accountability and the persistence of grave violations, including extrajudicial killings, indefinite national service, and transnational repression. A bipartisan U.S. Senate resolution passed in July 2025 similarly condemned the regime’s decades-long record of abuse, pointing to inhumane detention conditions, the total absence of democratic institutions, and the displacement of more than 500,000 citizens due to political repression. Observers, including a 2023 Deutsche Welle analysis that described Eritrea as “Africa’s North Korea,” have long noted how President Isaias Afwerki has consolidated personal power, preserving the rigid command structures of the liberation era to justify indefinite rule in the name of perpetual external threats.

Yet Isaias routinely offers sharp critiques of neighboring countries and their leaders, frequently dismissing Ethiopia and its leadership as lazy, weak, or incompetent. This posture invites scrutiny of its own: many find it striking that a leader who began as a celebrated figure in Eritrea’s independence struggle now presides over one of the world’s most closed and repressive states, while freely passing judgment on the shortcomings of others. The contrast underscores a broader irony in post-liberation politics, where yesterday’s revolutionaries can become today’s most enduring autocrats.

The Way Forward for Other Liberation Movements in Africa

To break the liberation dilemma, Africa must pivot from armed struggles to dialogue, peace, and inclusive development, embracing “African solutions to African problems” through empowered local initiatives and regional bodies like the African Union (AU). The AU’s Peace and Security Council has mediated conflicts, promoting preventive diplomacy and sustainable economic growth to address root causes like inequality and colonial legacies. For ongoing insurgencies in Ethiopia, such as those by the Oromo Liberation Army, Tigray People’s Liberation Front, and FANO militias, lessons from Eritrea urge rejecting this oppressive trajectory and building accountable institutions.

Indigenous approaches, like Ubuntu-inspired reconciliation, can foster social solidarity by emphasizing restorative justice, gender equity, and youth empowerment. Decolonizing peacebuilding involves critiquing oppressive systems, advocating reparations for colonial harms, and prioritizing human-centered governance. True liberation demands flexible, inclusive frameworks, such as national ownership in post-conflict reconstruction, to heal divisions and ensure prosperity, freeing Africans from both external domination and internal tyranny.

The year 1991 marked the climax of communism’s global retreat, triggered by the Soviet Union’s implosion and the evaporation of its support for allied states. At least four major socialist countries experienced outright collapse or dissolution that year, with more following in 1992. The Soviet Union itself dissolved on December 25, 1991, splintering into 15 republics amid economic ruin and ethnic strife.

Yugoslavia’s socialist federation fractured violently starting in June, as Slovenia and Croatia seceded, unleashing nationalist wars. Somalia’s socialist government under Siad Barre collapsed in January, descending into clan-based anarchy. Ethiopia’s Marxist-Leninist Derg regime fell in May to EPRDF rebels, ending Mengistu Haile Mariam’s rule after years of famine and civil war. Though Ethiopia transitioned to a new government without total state failure, the event mirrored these others, fueled by the same loss of Soviet aid.

This wave extended into 1992: Afghanistan’s Soviet-backed communist regime toppled in April; Albania’s Stalinist hold ended with elections in March; Mongolia adopted a democratic constitution, shedding one-party socialism; Mozambique’s FRELIMO abandoned Marxism-Leninism, concluding its civil war; Angola’s MPLA dropped its ideology in late 1991; and even North Korea revised its constitution in 1992 to emphasize Juche over Marxism-Leninism. Cape Verde and the People’s Republic of the Congo also ditched socialism in 1991 through elections and reforms. These interconnected falls stemmed from the USSR’s collapse, which severed lifelines to client states in Africa and Asia, including Ethiopia’s Derg, which relied heavily on Soviet military and economic backing.

Yet, in Ethiopian memory, 1991 often stands orphan: a uniquely Ethiopian tragedy of dictatorship and rebellion, detached from this global shift. This exceptionalism ignores how the end of Cold War bipolarity reshaped the world, as articulated by U.S. President George H.W. Bush. He first popularized “New World Order” on September 11, 1990, envisioning a post-Cold War era of multilateral cooperation and rule of law, reiterated in 1991 speeches amid the Gulf War. The term, though vaguely defined even today, symbolized the triumph of liberal democracy over communism, with the U.N. empowered to counter aggression, echoes of which influenced transitions worldwide, including in Africa.

Nowhere is this orphaned perspective clearer than in how the Cold War manifested and “ended” in East Africa through the Ethio-Somali War (Ogaden War) of 1977–1978. What Ethiopians often recall as a regional ethnic-territorial clash was a quintessential Cold War proxy battle.

Somalia, under Siad Barre, invaded Ethiopia’s Ogaden region in July 1977 to annex it for a “Greater Somalia,” exploiting Ethiopia’s post-1974 revolutionary chaos. Initially Soviet allies, Somalia switched to U.S. support after the Soviets flipped to back Ethiopia’s Derg with massive arms and 15,000 Cuban troops. Ethiopia’s victory by March 1978, with air supremacy and ground offensives, marked a Soviet win in the region but weakened both nations, sowing seeds for their 1991 collapses.

The actors’ limited understanding amplified this isolation: Ethiopians and Somalis largely viewed the war through national lenses, border disputes, clan rivalries, unaware or underappreciating the superpowers’ orchestration. The U.S. and USSR treated the Horn as a geostrategic chessboard, with arms flows and alliances shifting to contain influence.

This proxy dynamic exemplified the Cold War’s intrusion into Africa, yet local narratives orphaned it from global context, much like 1991’s events. The war’s aftermath, Somalia’s pivot to the West, Ethiopia’s deepened Soviet ties, hastened the regional unwind as the broader Cold War thawed, culminating in the 1990s regime changes.

To reclaim our history from orphanhood, Ethiopians must embrace triangulation: connecting our injera to global flatbreads, our scriptures to ancient texts worldwide, and our political shifts to universal currents. The 1991 communist collapses and the Ogaden War remind us that exceptionalism, while a source of pride, risks myopia in an interconnected world. By weaving our story into the global narrative, we honor our uniqueness without isolation.

As a researcher who spent years immersed in East African affairs, I’ve always been drawn to the intricate web of histories, identities, and power struggles that define the region. It’s a place where resilience shines through chaos, but also where old wounds fester in unexpected ways. A few years back, I wrote an article called “The Dutch Paradox,” exploring how the Netherlands, a nation that clawed its way to independence through bloody revolts against Spanish rule, later turned around and inflicted some of the most brutal colonial regimes on places like Indonesia and South Africa. It was a stark reminder that the fight for freedom doesn’t always translate to empathy for others’ struggles. That lens has shaped how I see the Somali situation today: a people united by so much, language, faith, culture, yet torn apart by the very divisions they sometimes wield as weapons. It’s what I call the Somali Paradox, where Somali unionists are actively stoking internal rifts in Somaliland to sabotage its push for a clean, recognized breakaway, all while Somalia itself hangs together as a fragile patchwork of semi-independent states. In this piece, I’ll draw on my experiences and observations to unpack this irony, blending history, current events, and a bit of forward-thinking, in hopes of humanizing the stakes for everyone involved.

Abstraction

At its core, the Somali Paradox is about how Somali unionist factions are stirring up divisions inside Somaliland to weaken its case for international recognition as a separate country. It’s a tactic that feels almost poetic in its contradiction, promoting splits to prevent a split, especially since Somalia operates as a loose federation that’s always one crisis away from falling apart. Drawing from my time in the region and parallels to historical paradoxes like the Dutch one, this article walks through the colonial roots, the failed dream of a Greater Somalia, the brutal civil war of the 1990s, and Somaliland’s quiet success in building its own path since 1991. We’ll look at the here-and-now, including Israel’s bold recognition of Somaliland on December 26, 2025, which has thrown fuel on the fire amid swirling debates over Somali diaspora politics, whispers of Palestinian resettlement, and Ethiopia’s hunger for sea access. Using insights from diplomatic chatter, news outlets, and the raw voices on social media, I’ll weigh whether this paradox can hold up long-term. We’ll touch on moves to chip away at Somaliland by carving out places like Awdal and SSC-Khatumo, and explore what comes next: the dangers of endless division versus the promise of real talks that could lead to peace and shared growth, maybe even as two separate states under a bigger Somali umbrella.

Introduction

I’ve often heard Somalis described as one of the most unified ethnic groups in Africa, sharing a single language, a deep Islamic faith, and a nomadic heritage that transcends borders. But you see the cracks nowhere better: colonialism’s arbitrary lines, fierce clan loyalties, and outside powers pulling strings. This ideal of unity masks a messy reality, and nowhere is that clearer than in the Somali Paradox. It’s the way pro-union forces quietly or not so quietly, encouraging fractures within Somaliland to stop it from gaining full independence, all to cling to the idea of a single Somalia on the map.

This strategy has ramped up since Israel shocked the world by recognizing Somaliland as a sovereign nation on December 26, 2025, the first UN member state to do so. I remember the buzz among my contacts in the Horn; it wasn’t just about borders, but how it tangled with bigger storms: Ethiopia’s desperate need for a port, wild rumors about relocating Palestinians from Gaza, and even U.S. election-year drama involving Somali-Americans like Rep. Ilhan Omar and barbs from Donald Trump. Somalis around the globe reacted with raw emotion, anger, betrayal, a sense of being under siege, especially with rising anti-Muslim sentiment in the West fueling the fire.

In response, unionists are doubling down on splintering Somaliland, pushing for breakaway pockets like Awdal in the west and SSC-Khatumo in the east, much like Somalia’s own clan-run states such as Puntland or Jubaland. It’s division to fight division, and it begs tough questions: Will this really stop Somaliland’s momentum? And what’s best for ordinary Somalis, a bunch of feuding mini-states under foreign thumbs, or some kind of negotiated setup where everyone wins? In my Dutch Paradox piece, I argued that nations often repeat the cycles they escaped; here, Somalis risk doing the same, using fragmentation as a tool when it once tore them apart. This article pulls together threads from history, today’s headlines, and online conversations, aiming for a fair shake from all sides: Somalis in Mogadishu, Somalilanders in Hargeisa, regional players, and the diaspora I’ve connected with over years.

Historical Trends: From Colonial Scars to Broken Dreams

The roots of Somali division go back to the late 1800s, when European powers sliced up Somali lands like a pie: the British in the north and Italians in the south. I’ve personally seen how these borders still haunt people, stories of families split, resources fought over. The British approach in the north was hands-off, letting clans handle their affairs, which bred a unique sense of self-reliance. Down south, Italian rule was harsher, more top-down, setting the stage for resentment.

When independence hit in 1960, the north and south united as the Somali Republic, with British Somaliland independent for just five days before jumping in. It was all fueled by the romantic idea of Greater Somalia, reuniting all Somalis. But under Siad Barre’s 1969 regime, that dream turned nightmare, the disastrous Ogaden War with Ethiopia in 1977-78 crushed spirits and sparked rebellions. Northern Isaaq clans bore the brunt, facing what many call genocide, like the 1988 bombing of Hargeisa that killed tens of thousands. Survivors speak louder even today; their pain is palpable, a reminder of how unity imposed by force crumbles.

Barre’s fall in 1991 unleashed hell in the south, warlords, famine, terrorists like Al-Shabaab. But in the north, clans gathered at the 1993 Borama Conference, reclaiming independence as Somaliland on May 18, 1991, back to those old British borders. They’ve built something remarkable: elections, stability, a functioning government, all without recognition. Meanwhile, Somalia’s 2012 constitution created a federal system with autonomous states like Puntland (born in 1998) and Jubaland (2013), each with their own armies and deals. It was meant to embrace clan differences, but it’s just deepened the divides, with constant squabbles over money and power. It’s this very model that unionists are now trying to force on Somaliland, echoing the Dutch irony: fighting for your own freedom, then denying it to others.

Current Situation: Israel’s Move and the Web of Tensions

Israel’s recognition of Somaliland on December 26, 2025, felt like an earthquake. Prime Minister Netanyahu called it backing a “real, working state” in a tough neighborhood, and Somaliland’s President Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi hailed it as a breakthrough, talking security ties, trade, and even embassies. Then came Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar’s visit to Hargeisa on January 6, 2026, stressing Red Sea safety and poking at “virtual” states like Palestine. For Israel, it’s about strategy, eyes on the Houthis, maybe a foothold at Berbera Port.

The backlash was fierce. Somalia blasted it as an attack on its sovereignty, with protests in Mogadishu and emergency parliament meetings. President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud tied it to alleged Palestinian relocation plans from Gaza, denied all around, but the rumor mill churned. The African Union held a crisis session on January 6, slamming the move and calling for reversal, fearing it could unravel anti-terror work. Djibouti cut flights to Somaliland starting January 7, Yemen cried foul, the EU stuck to Somalia’s borders, and the UN Security Council debated amid warnings of chaos.

It all links back to Ethiopia’s 2024 deal with Somaliland: leasing coastline for a naval base, maybe in exchange for recognition, Somalia sees it as theft. Add in U.S. tensions, with Trump’s 2025 comments against Somali immigrants and Omar pushing back on ICE raids, and it’s a powder keg. On social media platforms like X, it’s a mix: Somalilanders cheering “historic courage,” U.S. reps like Chris Smith calling for America to follow, while unionists warn of “neocolonial games.

As someone who has closely followed the Horn of Africa for years, listening to elders and sharing their stories, debating with unionists over long phone calls, and now tracking the passionate voices emerging both at home and in the diaspora, fiery threads on X, and heartfelt conversations with friends from Minneapolis to London, I firmly believe that Israel’s recognition of Somaliland has dramatically supercharged the Somali Paradox. What might once have remained a slow-burning, largely internal debate has suddenly been thrust under an intense global spotlight, sharply illuminating, and, in many ways, deepening, and the local fractures that have long simmered just beneath the surface.

The Somali Paradox: Creating Many Splits to Stop One Split

At the core of the Somali Paradox lies a calculated strategy: Somali unionist factions are deliberately engineering multiple internal splits within Somaliland to thwart its singular, clean break toward independence, thereby safeguarding the illusion of a unified Somalia. Somalia itself functions as a patchwork of semi-autonomous clan-based entities, such as Puntland and Jubaland, which operate like independent mini-states with their own militaries, resources, and foreign policies, yet these same forces are now exporting this model northward to undermine Somaliland’s cohesion and international appeal. For instance, in the western region of Awdal, home to the Gadabuursi and Ciise clans and a longstanding unionist stronghold, recent protests have featured crowds waving Palestinian flags in defiance of Israel’s recognition, while armed groups seize territory and key figures defect to align with Mogadishu. Locals increasingly decry Somaliland as a “one-clan show,” dominated by the Isaaq and allegedly sustained through coercive force since its 1991 declaration. Similarly, in the east, SSC-Khatumo’s decisive 2023 victories expelled Somaliland forces from Las Anod, establishing the area as Somalia’s sixth federal member state and highlighting how these engineered divisions portray Somaliland as fractured and unworthy of sovereignty.

This approach of fostering numerous splits to block one major division carries profound risks, as it not only erodes Somaliland’s stability but could boomerang to exacerbate Somalia’s own vulnerabilities. Post-Israel’s recognition, Somaliland authorities have intensified crackdowns, arresting imams and scholars who criticize the move and monitoring religious sermons, which further tarnishes their image of democratic governance and plays into unionist narratives. Unionists argue that legitimizing “de facto” entities like Somaliland accelerates widespread fragmentation, hollowing out central authority, while Somalilanders counter that their secession is an escape from Somalia’s dysfunctions, where groups like Al-Shabaab often outmaneuver the federal government in providing order. As one of my contacts poignantly put it, “Division feeds the extremists; unity starves them.” Yet, by mirroring its federal chaos onto Somaliland, potentially reducing its control to just 65-70% of claimed territory amid non-Isaaq clan resistance and the specter of civil war, Somalia invites broader balkanization across the Horn. This echoes the Dutch Paradox I explored in my earlier work: a nation that fought fiercely for its own unity, only to impose divisive colonial tactics elsewhere, perpetuating cycles of instability rather than breaking them.

Future Pathways: Can the Paradox Last, and What’s Best for Somalis?

Short-term, yeah, this tactic could stall things, making Somaliland seem unstable and scaring off more recognitions. Israel’s step might encourage the U.S. UK and other countries to follow, but Awdal and SSC-Khatumo show the cracks. Long-term, though? It could backfire, boosting Al-Shabaab, clan wars, and outsiders. Analysts I’ve followed warn of redrawn maps, more terror, and Israel stirring the pot against Turkey’s Somali ties.

What’s truly in Somali interests? Not endless mini-states under foreign watch that just breeds dependency. Better: sit down on a round table and negotiate. Give and take is the only sustainable way out. Some see recognition as a “dangerous spark” in the Horn; others, a smart reset for stability. On conversations on social media platforms like X; it’s split: one post says Israel came “too late” as Somaliland shrinks to a “tribal enclave,” another bets on economic wins drawing more allies.

Paths ahead: dug-in divisions leading to total breakup, a recognition wave solidifying Somaliland-Other countries bonds, or deals that heal Somali wounds. From my Dutch Paradox view, breaking cycles means choosing empathy over repetition.

Conclusion

The Somali Paradox lays bare the painful gap between rhetoric of unbreakable unity and the fractured realities on the ground. Israel’s recognition, just over a week ago, followed by high-level visits, AU condemnations, and regional backlash, has exposed these fault lines more vividly than ever, intensifying efforts to splinter Somaliland while underscoring Somalia’s own persistent vulnerabilities.

Tactical internal divisions may temporarily delay Somaliland’s clean break by magnifying clan dissent and painting it as unstable, but they invite far greater perils: renewed civil war, proliferating terrorism, and escalating geopolitical tensions across the Horn, as cautioned by the UN, AU, and regional leaders.

For the Somalis I’ve come to know, from resilient diaspora entrepreneurs rebuilding lives abroad to pastoralists navigating daily hardships at home, the sustainable way forward lies in pragmatic, inclusive agreements that honor diverse identities and aspirations. Whether through strengthened federalism, a loose confederation, or even respectful coexistence as two states, mediated dialogue could address not just internal matters but also other geopolitical interests.

Transforming paradox into genuine progress requires setting aside division as a weapon and embracing shared prosperity instead. It’s ultimately a deeply human story, one of a proud people charting a path through inherited pain toward a more secure, self-determined future amid relentless global pressures.