Understanding Contemporary Ethiopia PDF

UNDERSTANDING CONTEMPORARY ETHIOPIA
GÉRARD PRUNIER
ÉLOI FICQUET
(editors)
Understanding
Contemporary Ethiopia
HURST & COMPANY, LONDON

First published in the United Kingdom in 2015 by
C. Hurst & Co. (Publishers) Ltd.,

41 Great Russell Street, London, WC1B 3PL

© Gérard Prunier, Éloi Ficquet and the Contributors, 2015
All rights reserved.
Printed in India
Distributed in the United States, Canada and Latin America by
Oxford University Press, 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016,
United States of America.
The right of Gérard Prunier, Éloi Ficquet and the Contributors to
be identified as the authors of this publication is asserted by them
in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
A Cataloguing-in-Publication data record for this book
is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 9781849042611 (paperback)
www.hurstpublishers.com
This book is dedicated to my Ethiopian daughters, Tana and Mehret. G.P.
Both editors wish to honour the memory of their late friend and colleague
Jacques Bureau (1956–1998), who was their predecessor as the first director
of the French Centre for Ethiopian Studies in Addis Ababa. More than any-
body else, he helped us love and understand Ethiopia. G.P. & E.F.

CONTENTS
About the Contributors ix

Abbreviations xiii
Maps xvi
Introduction Gérard Prunier and Éloi Ficquet 1

1. Ethiopians in the Twenty-First Century: The Structure and
Transformation of the Population
Éloi Ficquet and Dereje Feyissa 15
2. The Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church (EOTC) and
the Challenges of Modernity
Stéphane Ancel and Éloi Ficquet 63
3. The Ethiopian Muslims: Historical Processes and Ongoing
Controversies Éloi Ficquet 93
4. Go Pente! The Charismatic Renewal of the Evangelical
Movement in Ethiopia Emanuele Fantini 123
5. From Pan-Africanism to Rastafari: African American and
Caribbean ‘Returns’ to Ethiopia Giulia Bonacci 147
6. Monarchical Restoration and Territorial Expansion: The
Ethiopian State in the Second Half of the Nineteenth
Century Shiferaw Bekele 159
7. The Era of Haile Selassie Christopher Clapham 183
8. The Ethiopian Revolution and the Derg Regime
Gérard Prunier 209
vii
9. The Eritrean Question Gérard Prunier 233

10. The Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF)
Medhane Tadesse 257
11. Federalism, Revolutionary Democracy and the Developmental
State, 1991–2012 Sarah Vaughan 283
12. Elections and Politics in Ethiopia, 2005–2010
Patrick Gilkes 313
13. Making Sense of Ethiopia’s Regional Influence
Medhane Tadesse 333
14. The Ethiopian Economy: The Developmental State vs. the

Free Market René Lefort 357

15. Addis Ababa and the Urban Renewal in Ethiopia
Perrine Duroyaume 395
16. The Meles Zenawi Era: From Revolutionary Marxism
to State Developmentalism Gérard Prunier 415
Notes 439
Index 481
viii
ABOUT THE Contributors
Gérard Prunier, PhD, is a renowned historian of contemporary Africa

and author of the acclaimed The Rwanda Crisis: History of a Genocide
and of Darfur: The Ambiguous Genocide, both published by Hurst.
Éloi Ficquet, PhD, is an anthropologist and historian, working on reli-

gion, ethnicity and power in Ethiopia. He was the Director of the
French Center for Ethiopian Studies in Addis Ababa (2009-2012) and
the chairman of the 18th International Conference of Ethiopian Studies
in 2012. He is now assistant professor at the EHESS, Paris. Besides
many articles on Ethiopian history and culture, he co-authored a
French-Amharic Dictionary with Berhanou Abebe (2003) and he co-
edited with Wolbert Smidt The Life and Times of Lïj Iyasu of Ethiopia
(LIT, 2014).
Stéphane Ancel, PhD, is a historian, who specialises in the evolution of

the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church since the nineteenth cen-
tury. He has been a research fellow at Hamburg University in the ERC-
funded project Ethio-SPARE program and he is currently working for
the ERC-funded project Open Jerusalem (University of Paris-Est
Marne-La-Vallée).
Shiferaw Bekele is a professor in history at Addis Ababa University. His

areas of research are the economic, cultural and political history of
Ethiopia from the late eighteenth to the twentieth century. He has pub-
lished many essays and articles in journals and edited collections. He has
(co-)edited several books of which the following two can be cited: Kassa
and Kassa (Addis Ababa, 1990); An Economic History of Ethiopia
ix
ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
(Codesria 2001). He was the Executive Secretary of the Academy of

Ethiopian Languages and Cultures and is founding fellow of the
Ethiopian Academy of Sciences.
Giulia Bonacci, PhD, is a historian of migrations and diasporas,
researcher at IRD, the French Institute of Research for Development.
After her major work on the history of the settlement of the Rastafari
community in Ethiopia, she has continued to study the migrations of
African Americans and Caribbeans to Ethiopia and the social history of
Pan-Africanism. The translation of her book Exodus! Heirs and
Pioneers, Rastafari Return to Ethiopia was published in April 2015 by
University of the West Indies Press.
Christopher Clapham, PhD, is Emeritus Professor in politics and inter-
national relations, Cambridge University. Among different research
interests, he has been a keen observer of political evolution in Ethiopia
and in the Horn of Africa since the time of Haile Selassie. His main
publications on this field are Haile Selassie’s Government (1969,
Praeger); Transformation and Continuity in Revolutionary Ethiopia
(1988, Cambridge). He has been the editor of the Journal of Modern
African Studies published by Cambridge University Press since 1988.
Dereje Feyissa Dori, PhD, is a social anthropologist. He has conducted
research on ethnicity and conflict in the Gambella region (western
Ethiopia); Islam in contemporary Ethiopia; the political economy of
development in the Afar region (eastern Ethiopia). He is currently
adjunct professor at Addis Ababa University and Africa research direc-
tor of the International Law and Policy Institute (Addis Ababa). In
Germany he was a research fellow of the Max Planck Institute for
social anthropology and he is currently Alexander von Humboldt
Research Fellow. He published Playing Different Games: The Paradoxes
of Anywaa and Nuer Identification Strategies in Gambella, Ethiopia
(Berghahn Books, 2011).
Perrine Duroyaume is an urban expert and development program offi-
cer at F3E (France). She has been a research associate of the French
Center for Ethiopian Studies. She has worked on several projects in
Addis Ababa and other Ethiopian cities.
Emanuele Fantini, PhD, is a political scientist and a research fellow at
the Department of Cultures, Politics and Society of the University of
Turin. He has worked in the fields of development studies, the politi-
x
ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
cal sociology of state formation in Africa and water resources manage-

ment. His current research focuses on the impact of the Pentecostal
movement on social, political and economic issues in Ethiopia. He co-
edited, with Jörg Haustein, a special issue of PentecoStudies (12/2
2013) “The Ethiopian Pentecostal Movement. History, Identity and
Current Socio-Political Dynamics”.
Patrick Gilkes has worked for many years as a journalist and political
analyst on the Horn of Africa. Since 2004 he has been strategic plan-
ning adviser to the Ethiopian Foreign Minister. He is the author of The
Dying Lion (1975).
René Lefort has been writing about sub-saharan Africa since the 1970s
and has reported on the region for Le Monde, Le Monde diplomatique,
Libération, Le Nouvel Observateur. He is the author of Ethiopia: An
heretical revolution? (1982, Zed books).
Medhane Tadesse, PhD, is an expert in peace and security issues. He
has taught at various universities in Ethiopia and abroad and has writ-
ten extensively on armed violence, globalised security and diplomacy,
militarisation, governance and humanitarian crisis in Africa. He is the
editor of The Current Analyst, an online journal that examines issues
relating to African peace and security.
Sarah Vaughan, PhD, is a research consultant, and honorary fellow at
the School of Social and Political Science at the University of Edinburgh.
She has taught African politics and social theory in Ethiopia and in
Scotland. Her research interests include the sociology of knowledge,
ethnicity and political interest, decentralisation and local government,
transitional justice and conflict. She is co-author of The Culture of
Power in Contemporary Ethiopian Political Life (Sida, Stockholm,
2003).
xi
AbbrEviations
AACG Addis Ababa City Government

AAPO All Amhara Peoples Organization
AAU Addis Ababa University
ADLI Agricultural Development Led Industrialization
AETU All-Ethiopia Trade Union
AEUP All Ethiopia Unity Party
ALF Afar Liberation Front
AMISOM African Union Mission for Somalia
ANDM Amhara National Democratic Movement
ARENA Union of Tigreans for Democracy and Sovereignty
AU African Union
BBA Building Block Approach
BPLM Benishangul People Liberation Movement
CELU Confederation of Ethiopian Labor Unions
CETU Confederation of Ethiopian Trades Unions
CFA Cooperative Framework Agreement
CIP Complaints Investigation Panels
COPWE Committee for Organizing the Party of the Workers of
Ethiopia
CPA Comprehensive Peace Agreement (Sudan)
CSA Central Statistical Authority
CUD Coalition for Unity and Democracy
EDORM Ethiopian Democratic Officers Revolutionary Movement
EDP Ethiopian Democratic Party
EDU Ethiopian Democratic Union
EEBC Eritrea-Ethiopia Boundary Commission
xiii
ABBREVIATIONS
EFFORT Endowment Fund for the Rehabilitation of Tigray

ELF Eritrean Liberation Front
ENDF Ethiopian National Defence Forces
EOTC Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church
EPLF Eritrean People’s Liberation Front
EPPF Ethiopian People’s Patriotic Front
EPRDF Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic FrontECFE:
Evangelical Churches Fellowship of Ethiopia
EPRP Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Party
ERIS Electoral Reform International Services (UK)
ESM Ethiopian Student Movement
ETA Ethiopian Teachers’ Association
ETB Ethiopian Birr (currency)
EVASU Ethiopian Evangelical Student Association
EWF Ethiopian World Federation
FDI Foreign Direct Investments
FDRE Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia
FRELIMO Frente de Libertação de Moçambique (Mozambique
Liberation Front)
GDP Gross domestic product
GERD Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam
GNP Gross national product
GPLM Gambella People’s Liberation Movement
GTP Growth and Transformation Plan
HRW Human Rights Watch
IFPRI International Food Policy Research Institute
IGAD Intergovernmental Authority on Development
IMF International Monetary Fund
MIDROC Mohammed International Development Research and
Organization Companies
MLLT Marxist-Leninist League of Tigray
MPLA Movimento Popular de Libertação de Angola (People’s
Movement for the Liberation of Angola)
NBI Nile Basin Initiative
NCO Non-commissioned officer
NEBE National Electoral Board of Ethiopia
NEPAD New Partnership for Africa’s Development
NGO Non-governmental organization
NIF National Islamic Front (Sudan)
OAU Organisation of African Unity
xiv
ABBREVIATIONS
OFDM Oromo Federalist Democratic Movement

OLF Oromo Liberation Front
ONC Oromo National Congress
ONLF Ogaden National Liberation Front
OPDO Oromo Peoples’ Democratic Organization
PAIGC Partido Africano para a Independência da Guiné e Cabo
Verde (African Party for the Independence of Guinea and
Cape Verde)
PFDJ People’s Front for Democracy and Justice (Eritrea)
PMAC Provisional Military Administrative Council
POMOA Political Office for Mass Organization Affairs
POW Prisoner of War
RED Real Estate Developers
REST Relief Society of Tigray
SALF Somali Abo Liberation Front
SEPDC Southern Ethiopia Peoples’ Democratic Coalition
SIM Serving In Mission
SLM Sidama Liberation Movement
SNNPRS Southern Nations Nationalities and Peoples Regional
State
SPLA Sudan People’s Liberation Army
SPM Somali Patriotic Movement
SSDF Somali Salvation Democratic Front
TFG Transitional Federal Government (Somalia)
TGE Transitional Government of Ethiopia
TNO Tigray Nationalist Organization
TNPU Tigray Nation Progressive Union
TPLF Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front
TSZ Temporary Security Zone
TUSU Tigray University Students Union
UDJ Unity for Democracy and Justice
UEDF United Ethiopian Democratic Forces
UEDP United Ethiopian Democratic Party
UIC Union of Islamic Courts (Somalia)
UN United Nations
UNDP United Nations Development Programme
USC-SNA United Somali Congress-Somali National Alliance
WPE Workers Party of Ethiopia
WSLF Western Somali Liberation Front
xv
YEM EN
N Red Sea
Bab el-Mandeb
G
Ta
ERITREA Teru
ʿAgame
SUDAN Enderta DJIBOUTITI
DJIBOU
Temben
Rayya Awsa
Shire T ig ray
At b a r Simen Lasta Yejju Dewwey

a r.
Welqayt Wegera e r.
Te kkez
Armeceho Begemdir Wello Yifat
Dembeya
Cher
Borena
Menz Kar-
rayu
l. Tana Gojjam
Agew Shewa
Qwara Awi A b b a y r .
B lu e N il e Mecha Aw as h r.
Metekkel Gudru
Gurage
l. Zway Ar
l. Abiyata l. Langa
Gumuz G ib e r. Hadiya l. Shala
Leeqa Kambata
E T H I OP IA Beni Wallaggaa
Limu
Wolayta
l. Awasa
Sid
A "Rift-oriented" map Shangul Jimma l.
Qelem
of relie f, rivers, Mao Dawro
Komo Illubabor Kafa
and ter ritorial identities Gamo
Gofa Ko
r.
ro
A rotation of 45° is applied to the

Ba
Ari
usual orientation to the north, so Gambella
that the Rift valley, which "cuts"
Maji Hame
Nuer Anuak
Om
the country into two parts, corres-

or
.
ponds to the fold of the book. This Ak ob o r.

change of perspective allows
another visualization and unders-
tanding of the situation of the
W
territories in relation to each other. SOUTH
© E. Ficquet, 2014. S U DAN
N Gulf of Aden
Indian
E
Ocean
ndeb
Gulf of
Tadjourah
SOMALILAND
OUTI
OUTI
wsa
SOMALIA
Harerge
Ogaadeen
Chercher
hebe l l e r.
Kar- Wa b i S
rayu
r.
Zway Arsi Ganale
r.
Abiyata l. Langano Balee
l. Shala
mbata
l. Awasa KEY:
layta Sidaama relief below 1000m
l. Abaya (arid lowlands)
ro relief from 1000 to 2000m
l. Chamo Guji (dry highlands)
Gamo
Gofa Konso Booranaa relief from 2000 to 3000m
(wet and cultivated highlands)
Ari relief over 3000 m
Hamer (cold mountains)
l. Chew Bahir
main river
tributary river
lake
S
l. Turkana
KENYA 200 km
ETHIOPIA - Administrative divisions since 1994
The Regional States of the Federal Democratic
Republic of Ethiopia
TIGRAY
Meqelle
Semera
Bahir Dar A FAR

A MHARA
BENISHANGUL
GUMUZ
Asosa DIRE DAWA
ADDIS ABEBA Jigjiga
HARARI
O ROMIYA Adama
Gambela
GAMBELA
S OMALI
SOUTHERN NATIONS
NATIONALITIES AND Awasa
PEOPLES (SNPPR)
Distribution of Population by Regions in 1994 and 2007

36,7
35 1994: Country Total = 53,477,265
2007: Country Total = 73,918,505
25,9 population growth : 2,6% / year (average annual rate of between 1994 and 2007)
23,3
19,4 20,4
6 6 5,9 5,8
4 3,7
2 1,9 0,9 0,9 0,5 0,5 0,3 0,4 0,2 0,2
OROMIA AMHARA SNNPR SOMALI TIGRAY ADDIS AFAR BENISHANGUL DIRE GAMBELLA HARARI
ABABA GUMUZ DAWA
Source: Central Statistical Authority, Population and Housing Census, 2007.

ETHIOPIA - Administrative divisions before 1991
E RITREA
Asmara
T IGRAY
G ONDAR Meqelle
Gondar
W ELLO
Dessie
G OJJAM Debre
Marqos
W ELLEGA S HEWA
Harar
Neqemte
Addis Ababa
Metu Asela
H ARERGE
I LLUBABOR Arsi
Jimma
K EFA Awasa Gobba
Arba
Minch B ALE
G AMO
G OFA S IDAMO
0 100 200 km
NB: The layout of these administrative divisions was established in 1942. Eritrea was included
as a federal territory in 1952, then absorbed as a province in 1962. This territorial organisation
was subject to a series of revisions and corrections on all levels, but its general aspect remained
basically the same. In 1987 the Constitution of the People's Democratic Republic of Ethiopia
created a new framework that was abandoned four years later, after the fall of the military
regime in May 1991. Eritrea became officially independent in May 1993 and new federal
administrative divisions based on ethno-linguistic boundaries were adopted with the 1994
Constitution of the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia.
ETHIOPIA - Cities and Roads
SAUDI ARABIA
SUDAN
ERITREA
Khartoum Keren Massawa
Akordat
Kassala Asmara YEMEN
Barentu Sana'a
Wad Medani
Aksum Addigrat
Gedaref Humera Inde Adwa
Sellassie Wuqro
Meqelle
Debark Assab
Metemma Maychew Aden
Gondar Seqota
Debre Lalibela Allamata
Tabor Semera Tadjourah Obock
Weldiya
Bahir Dar Djibouti
Guba Aysayta Zayla
Dessie Bati Mille
Mota
Kombolca
Bure Debre Mekane
Marqos Selam Berbera
Asosa Dejen Fiche Gewane
Dire Dawa SOMALILAND
Debre Jigjiga
Gimbi Ambo Addis Ababa Berhan Hargeisa
Debre Harar
Neqemte Zeit Awash Asbe
Dembidolo Weliso Adama Teferi
Welkite Butajira Anajina
Gambela Gore Zway Robe
Masha Hosaina Asela
Jimma Sheshemene
Teppi Bonga Ginir
Mizan Teferi Soddo Gobba Kebri Dehar
Awasa Imi
Maji Arba Dilla
Jinka Minch Gode
Kelafo SOMALIA
Negele
SOUTH SUDAN Konso
Turmi
Moyale
UGANDA
KENYA
Mogadishu
0 100 200 km
Addis Ababa national capital city main highway
Meqelle regional capital city passable road © E. Ficquet, 2014.
Jimma city over 50,000 lake
Ginir city under 50,000 international boundary
Population of the major Ethiopian cities (over 100,000 inhabitants) :

Addis Ababa 2,738,248 | Dire Dawa 342,827 | Awasa 259,803 | Adama 222,035 | Bahir Dar 220,344 |
Mekele 215,546 | Gondar 206,987 | Harar 183,344 | Dessie 151,094 | Jigjiga 125,876 | Jimma 120,600 |
Shashemene 102,062 | Bishoftu 100,114.
ETHIOPIA - Religions
Orthodox Tewahedo Christians

T IGRAY Muslims
Protestant Christians
Traditionalists
0 100 200 km
A FAR
A M HAR A
© E. Ficquet, 2014.
BENISHANGUL
GUMUZ
DIRE DAWA
ADDIS ABABA
HARARI
ARARI
O R O M I YA
G AMBELA
S OMALI
S NP P R

Note on the making of the map: Religious groups are outlined when their followers represent more than 20% of the population at the level of
wereda district . This allows for the representation of areas of religious coexistence.
43.5 Orthodox 33.9 Muslims 18.6 Protestants 2.6 Trad.

Country
95.6 4
Tigray
3.9 95.3
Afar
82.5 17.2
Amhara
30.5 47.5 17.7 3.3
Oromia
0.6 98.4
Somali
33 45.4 13.5 7.1
Benishangul
19.9 14.1 55.5 6.6 *
SNPPR
16.8 4.9 70.1 3.8 *
Gambela
74.7 16.2 7.8
Addis Ababa
27.1 69 3.4
Harari
25.6 70.9 2.8
Dire Dawa
* Catholics: Country total: 0,8% - SNNPR: 2,4% - Gambela: 3,4%

ETHIOPIA - Orthodox Tewahedo Christians
and their major places of worship
Aksum Debre Damo over 50% of the population
Geralta Wuqro are Orthodox Tewahedo Christians
Waldebba
20% to 50% of the population
are Orthodox Tewahedo Christians
Gondar Source: Central Statistical Authority, Population and
Tana Lake Lalibela Housing Census, 2007.
islands
0 100 200 km
Bahir Dar Este
Gishen Hayq
Martula © E. Ficquet, 2014.
Maryam
Debre
Libanos Ankober
Addis Addis Ababa Qulubi
Alem
Zeqwala
Bonga
Arba
Minch
ETHIOPIA - Muslims
and their major places of worship
over 50% of the population

Negash are Muslims
are Muslims
Gondar Source: Central Statistical Authority, Population
Ana
and Housing Census, 2007.
Dana
Bati Awsa 0 100 200 km
Dessie
Geta
Degar © E. Ficquet, 2014.
Shonke
Asosa
Dire Dawa
Aliyu
Addis Ababa Amba
Neqemte Harar
Faraqasa
Sheikh Hussen
Anajina
Jimma
Sof Omar
ETHIOPIA - Protestant Christians
over 50% of the population

are Protestant Christians
are Protestant Christians
Source: Central Statistical Authority, Population and
Housing Census, 2007.
0 100 200 km
Bahir Dar
© E. Ficquet, 2014.
Addis Ababa Qulubi
Zeqwala
INTRODUCTION
Gérard Prunier and Éloi Ficquet
Ethiopia is a land which, like Israel or Tibet, is often thought of first

and foremost through myths before it is seen as a real country. Many
people who would have some difficulty in precisely pinpointing
Ethiopia on a map of the world have nevertheless heard about our
hominid “grandmother” Lucy, the Ark of the Covenant, Solomon and
the Queen of Sheba, the medieval quest for Prester John, as well as the
more recent imperial figures of Menelik II and Haile Selassie I, the
independence of the country during European imperialism in Africa,
and the Lion of Judah, a symbol of sovereignty that has been used on
covers of Rastafari reggae albums. The public at large also remember
the images of recurrent famines that often end up negatively symboliz-
ing Africa. The Power, the Glory and the Tragedies. Ethiopia is over-
sized in the public mind and it often tends to be oversized in the minds
of its own inhabitants, who are the first to believe in the mythical qual-
ity of their motherland. It is one of the few countries in the world
which has an Encyclopaedia devoted to it—not a universal encyclopae-
dia but a gigantic and erudite compendium of all things Ethiopian
from the origins of time until 1974.1
That date is fully justified: 1974 was the year of destiny, the year
when Ethiopia was suddenly thrown into the modern world. Seldom
1
has a date been so significant in the history of a people and of a nation.

Today, as in France and Russia, there is a lingering consciousness of
loss in the face of progress. No other country in Africa has known this
experience. African countries were decolonized in the 1960s, which
meant combining some continuity with a precolonial past with the irre-
versible changes due to colonialism. Their period of entry into moder-
nity had been usurped by foreigners and the course of history had to
be restored. But the Ethiopian case is just the opposite. Ethiopia had
never been colonized and it lingered in a world where the Bible and the
Prophets had more reality than Marx, Freud or Darwin. The Italian
invasion of 1935 had been a warning shot but Orde Wingate and
Emperor Haile Selassie had turned the clock back and repelled both
fascism and the intrusion of the modern world. Thus for many lovers
of Ethiopian culture, 1974 was the year of doom, of de-sacralization,
of impiety. The country-as-myth which they had long cherished had
come to a bad end. King Solomon had died a second death and
Ethiopia had landed in the modern world with a painful thud. Then
came the new narrative: communism, mass starvation, civil war, dicta-
torship, population displacements. After having long been the embodi-
ment of a timeless biblically-rooted myth, Ethiopia had now been
thrown into a pit of unmitigated evil that was in itself a new (counter)-
myth. And then, in 1991, the same year that saw the final complete
collapse of the Soviet “Evil Empire”, communism was wiped off the
face of Ethiopia and triumphant guerrilla fighters proclaimed the birth
of a Brave New World. End of story.
In the last twenty years, under the leadership of its late Prime
Minister Meles Zenawi, Ethiopia has been progressively—though
reluctantly—normalized. Its bizarre shack-studded capital started to
sprout skyscrapers, its Prime Minister rubbed shoulders with top
world leaders in a way not seen since Haile Selassie, it started to lay
out a giant infrastructural network built by illiterate peasants on the
Chinese model, and it began to assert itself as a new regional power
which was in the process of developing an original path towards
economic growth. Its stated aim was to climb from the level of one
of the poorest countries in the world to the level of a small emergent
power. And, in many ways, this is where historiography lost track of
Ethiopia.
2
INTRODUCTION
Scope of the book
The last global study of Ethiopia was published in 1985,2 and its main
focus for reflection was: can we say that Marxism is now solidly
embedded in Ethiopia? Since then dozens of books have been pub-
lished on Ethiopia, covering famine, geopolitics, elections, religion, his-
torical topics and polemical views for and against the present regime.
But no attempt has been made to bring all these subjects between two
covers and to produce a work that summarizes the main trends of con-
temporary Ethiopia. We felt that this was needed. A first attempt had
been made (in French) a few years ago to do almost that—but not
quite.3 L’Ethiopie contemporaine tried to present the public with a
more rounded study of traditional Ethiopian culture and history as
well as recent events and processes that are deeply transforming the
country. But when we started to translate it into English we were rap-
idly struck by a key problem: some elements of contemporary Ethiopia
were either absent in that volume (for example urban development and
evangelical churches) or had evolved so quickly since its publication
that it now dealt with them incompletely. We then started not to trans-
late but to rewrite and update the whole thing extensively. It took
seven years and this is the result.4 An imperfect, of course, but detailed
wide-angle snapshot of the country which had not been attempted for
nearly forty years.
Our goal in this work is therefore not to be exhaustive, but to be
able to account in an accessible way for a wide readership, for the
nature and evolution of Ethiopian political modernity since its founda-
tion at the end of nineteenth century, and the ups and downs of the
federal regime established in 1991, under the continuous leadership of
Meles Zenawi, head of the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic
Front (EPRDF), until his unexpected death in 2012. Ethiopia’s “revo-
lutionary and federal democracy” has become a political model which
is quite unique, being an alloy of revolutionary theories, pragmatic
neoliberalism and intrinsically Ethiopian customary practices.
In aiming to understand the logic of the present time and its histor-
ical background, this book focuses on the political, religious and eco-
nomic issues that we believe provide the main basis for understanding
contemporary issues. These analyses should provide a toolbox useful
to all those who seek to discern the lines of evolution of this complex
and in many ways hermetic country, or who seek to work, invest or
3
travel there, or, in the case of the more and more “Ethio-descendants”
who live abroad, who wish to trace their own roots there.
Some readers will undoubtedly regret that several aspects are not
addressed, such as the cultural sector (in particular the music, visual
arts and food for which Ethiopia has become internationally renowned),
heritage management policies and touristic development, as well as
more specific dimensions of state structure, such as the administration
of justice or the significant strengthening of the army (which in a few
years became a powerful military-industrial conglomerate). Other
social issues are not covered here, such as public health, media and
censorship, youth and its hopes, educational and academic policies.
But we expect that the general framework provided here is a good
opening that will help readers find in-depth knowledge from the abun-
dant literature that exists on these issues.
With a view to providing informative and synthesizing contributions,
annotations are sparse and chapters do not use a dense critical appara-
tus. However, each chapter includes a comprehensive bibliography, pri-
marily designed to orient the English reader and point out the texts that
are most readily available in most academic libraries and, increasingly,
online. These bibliographies include some important works in the
French, German and Italian languages which are essential for the schol-
arly study of Ethiopia. This field of study is indeed characterized by the
great diversity of origin of the foreign observers (travellers, diplomats,
experts, missionaries and so on) who have studied this country, written
in collaboration with Ethiopian scholars, but about its myths and real-
ities, its greatness and misery, and contributed, not without tensions
and misunderstandings, to the modernization of its structures and to its
international recognition.
Synopsis of the chapters

Ethnic diversity. In 2012 Ethiopia’s population reached 91.2 million,
the second highest in Africa after Nigeria. In Chapter 1, Éloi Ficquet
and Dereje Feyissa highlight the geographical settings, the historical
dynamics and the cultural characteristics of the diverse ethnic groups
composing the Ethiopian population. The structural features of
Ethiopia’s geography, based on the dualism between well-watered
highlands and dry lowlands, have left a strong imprint on human
activities and social organizations. These determinations are out-
4
INTRODUCTION
weighed, however, by the capacity of human groups to adapt to risks

and to transform their environment through the combined effects of
solidarity and greed, willingness and coercion. Over the last decade,
the pace of development and social change has quickened in all kinds
of sectors and has strongly impacted all Ethiopian societies, including
those in the peripheries who used to be overseen by means of military
control without much concern on the part of the government for their
economic integration. The ongoing process of the infrastructural uni-
fication of Ethiopia, through roads and other investment, has entailed
a levelling of the ways of life of the Ethiopian peoples, in spite of their
continued cultural diversity. This material convergence is a major
transformation of recent years that has not been sufficiently taken into
account.
Religions. Besides linguistic and cultural differentiations, religions are

another major dimension in Ethiopia’s historical and current evolu-
tion. Like few other countries in the world, Ethiopia has been charac-
terized by the long lasting establishment of three world religions:
Christianity, Islam and Judaism (the latter to a lesser extent today since
almost all Ethiopian Jews have been resettled in Israel after the first
rescue operations in the 1980s). Throughout the long history of
Ethiopian religions, clerics have been trained in the art of writing so as
to preserve their knowledge and other kinds of instructions on docu-
ments, but they have also been experts in deciphering the mysteries of
the invisible spheres. This intimate association between the more obvi-
ous, formal, written side of social life and the informal, esoteric, hid-
den dimensions is crucial to grasp in order to understand how politics
has worked and continues to work in Ethiopia.
Orthodox Christianity. For centuries the Christian Orthodox Tewahedo

Church of Ethiopia was considered the dominant framework through
which Ethiopia could be understood. Today Orthodox Christians rep-
resent more or less one half of the Ethiopian population, concentrated
in the northwest but also widely disseminated throughout the urban
networks of the state structure. Without going far back into history,
Stéphane Ancel and Éloi Ficquet start Chapter 2 at the end of the nine-
teenth century to show that the Church was instrumental in the unifi-
cation of the kingdom and its dependencies around a common rein-
stated Christian identity. But quite quickly it became clear that without
5
organizational changes in the clergy and the Church’s complete sub-

mission to secular political authority, it could not continue playing this
role. Therefore, the nationalization of the Ethiopian Church was its
main challenge in the first half of the twentieth century. After the cut-
ting of its historical umbilical cord to the Egyptian Coptic Church, the
Ethiopian Church was forced to follow and adapt to political changes
in Ethiopia. The Derg incarcerated and executed a Patriarch and nom-
inated a new higher clergy who accepted revolutionary ideas. In turn,
the EPRDF arrested the Derg’s Patriarch, who fled into exile and was
replaced by a new head who shared a common origin with the new sec-
ular leaders. These unceasing government interferences in clerical
affairs led to the development of reformist movements that became a
shelter for conservative oppositions.
Islam. In Chapter 3 Éloi Ficquet considers the case of Ethiopian

Muslims, who make up approximately one third of the population
(according to disputed statistics) and are spread over the eastern half of
the country. Islam is also the common religion, albeit in significantly
varying forms, of several of Ethiopia’s neighbours. Since the early days
of Islam, when companions of the Prophet took refuge at the court of
the Ethiopian king, the participation of Muslims in the construction of
Ethiopian nationhood has been an important issue. For a long time, in
an imperial state originally built upon the supremacy of Christianity,
Muslim subjects were discriminated against and marginalized. After the
downfall of imperial rule the authorities moved towards more secular
orientations. Muslims have been gradually recognized as having equal
rights in a pluralistic society, but they are still the target of insinuations
hinting that they could represent a security threat owing to their links
with competing interests abroad. This misunderstanding was at the core
of the recent protests by Ethiopian Muslims who claimed the right to
be treated as genuine citizens in a pluralistic society. They argued that
the state should focus on specific policies against extremist threats
instead of relying on generalizations.
Protestant and Pentecostal movements. Besides the encounters and

exchanges between the Christian Orthodox and Islamic communities,
foreign Christian missionary movements also weighed on the course of
Ethiopian history. In the seventeenth century Jesuit Catholic missions
succeeded in converting the king to Roman Catholicism. This led to a
6
INTRODUCTION
civil war that resulted in the closure of the kingdom and internal theo-
logical controversies within the Orthodox Church. A ban on mission-
ary penetration was progressively lifted in the nineteenth century.
Missionaries’ presence and activities were tolerated as long as they were
content to proselytize among peripheral populations. Whereas Catholic
missions kept a low profile by providing assistance to weak communi-
ties, Protestant churches were more assertive in their development goals
and nurtured movements of political emancipation by fostering the use
of local languages and the assertion of more autonomous identities.
This caused the latter to be persecuted under the Derg. In Chapter 4, on
the Evangelical movement and its current charismatic renewal, Emanuele
Fantini explains the characteristics and common features of the differ-
ent denominations encompassed under the label of “Pente”. In the last
two decades these churches have witnessed rapid expansion. Today
Ethiopian Protestants represent almost 20 per cent of the population,
even representing the majority in south-western regions. By their asser-
tiveness, capacity for entrepreneurship, discourse against traditional
beliefs and conduct, and use of the resources they get from their trans-
national networks, the various Protestant movements have become one
of the major forces contributing to the birth to a “new Ethiopian man”,
in accordance with the developmental stance of the government. The
potentially destabilizing consequences of such a radical transformation
have often been overlooked.
Rastafari. In Chapter 5 Giulia Bonacci explores the Rastafari cult.

There are only a few hundred followers of this Afro-Caribbean move-
ment in Ethiopia, in the community of Shashemene. Their presence and
image are, however, meaningful because their participation in wider
Pan-African thought, their emphasis on the sacredness of Emperor
Haile Selassie, and the great number of their sympathizers world-wide,
attracted by reggae music and their way of life, have connected Ethiopia
with a world-wide cultural network. The Rastafari have greatly contrib-
uted to the international promotion of Ethiopia as a holy land for the
descendants of African slaves by reshuffling Biblical mythologies to fit
them into the historical experience of black peoples’ so as to restore
their proud identities by fitting them into a globalized value system.
Political history of the modern state. The second section of the book
traces Ethiopia’s political history from the foundations of the modern
7
state in the second half of the nineteenth century to the fall of the Derg
military junta in the last decade of the twentieth century. During each
period, despite internal disputes, the successive Ethiopian rulers all
claimed they were driven by the same goals: sovereignty, modernity,
unity. And they all were prone to the concentration of state power and
economic assets in the hands of a small leading group. The heavy
expansions of the bureaucracy and the army enabled state control and
violence to be directed against subordinate and peripheral populations,
whose chronic state of poverty was prolonged.
Tewodros, Yohannes, Menelik. In Chapter 6 Shiferaw Bekele provides

a synthetic overview of the processes of nation- and state-building
under the reigns of three kings of kings, Tewodros II (r. 1855–68),
Yohannes IV (r. 1872–89) and Menelik II (r. 1889–1913). Each of them
represented a distinct area of the Christian realm, respectively the west,
the north and the south (the latter including the conquest of the east).
Under the threat of foreign imperial ambitions and in the context of the
scramble for Africa, these leaders boldly stirred up the Ethiopian spirit
of independence and led their troops to historic victories. They were
also visionary enough to recognize the warning signs that the world was
changing in ways that would bring more than only military challenges.
Facing the risk of being swallowed up by modernity and colonialism,
they addressed the need for reforms by reshaping the traditional social
and political structures into a centralized state. This implementation of
modernizing and centralizing policies required new models and new
technologies that were introduced with the financial and technical sup-
port of foreign powers, in particular through advisors and experts who
were positioned at different levels of the state apparatus. The frame-
work for understanding Ethiopia’s development therefore has to include
two dimensions: the existence of strong internal authority on the one
hand, and the need for this authority to gain the support of external
powers. Within this framework, all Ethiopian leaders had to skilfully
negotiate with their international partners in order to carve open a
space in which to develop according to their own vision and agenda—
though they have also sometimes been able to take advantage of com-
petition between different foreign powers.
Haile Selassie. For nearly sixty years, including five in exile, King of
Kings Haile Selassie ruled over the evolution of Ethiopia from a feu-
8
INTRODUCTION
dal-like society based on power relations between provincial ruling

families to a state with a centralized administration based, at least for-
mally, on a conventional legal system and populated by well-educated
individuals. This long reign is considered in Chapter 7 by Christopher
Clapham who, as early as 1969, authored a perceptive study on the
mechanisms of the Ethiopian government since the restoration of impe-
rial rule after the victory over Italy in 1941.
Haile Selassie was probably the Ethiopian aristocrat of his time who
had been the most exposed to Western education and values. His
entourage consisted of intellectuals who were known as modernizers’
or “Japanizers” since the Japanese Meiji era was their model for
Ethiopia. He was genuinely convinced that significant reforms should
be fostered—provided he remained the absolute ruler. After the short-
lived Italian invasion—which had a durable modernizing impact on
infrastructure—major breakthroughs were achieved, including the set-
ting up of a provincial administration, the establishment of a new legal
framework, the nationalization of the Church, and progress in higher
education. On each issue His Imperial Highness was to occupy the cen-
tre of the chessboard. There was thus a widening contradiction
between the actual attempts at modernization and the inherent conser-
vatism of the regime. The system Haile Selassie established was based
entirely on his person and it could not be transmitted to less talented
heirs, who were trained in palace life but not in political competition.
As Clapham puts it: “It was his own dominance that made the aboli-
tion of the monarchy inevitable”. Constitutional monarchy was an illu-
sion, just as the ideology of a multi-millennial monarchy had been. The
very nature of his power meant that challengers would try to take over,
by tricks or by force. The failed coup of 1960 was a warning shot. The
backlash that followed accelerated the sclerosis of the regime, which
from then on focused on factional rivalries and was deaf to appeals for
social and economic evolution.
The Revolution and the Derg. In Chapter 8 on the 1974 Revolution

Gérard Prunier shows that many factors converged to trigger mecha-
nisms comparable to those that led to social revolutions in the agrar-
ian empires of eastern Europe and the Balkans. The atmosphere of rad-
ical militancy inspired by the decolonization of other African countries
amplified the frustration of the modernized urban elite, in particular
the educated youth who found no job opportunities. The archaic struc-
9
ture of the economy, the inextricable cluster of land issues, the serious
social inequalities, and the eruption of the “national question” were
the most discussed factors. After mammoth street demonstrations in
the spring of 1974, a military junta known as the Derg came to power
and took the initiative from the leftist student movements. The main
measure was to follow the slogan “land to the tiller” that had been ini-
tiated by Chairman Mao in China. Land collectivization was decided
upon in 1975. In addition, the revolutionary regime recognized the
diversity of cultures, religions and languages, but not to the extent of
granting them political rights. The idea was that the revolution should
mobilize the people as a whole without any distinction between the
various peoples. Feudal Christian imperialism was replaced by a coer-
cive military regime based on Marxist-Leninist ideology, and the task
of ideological maintenance was transferred from the Church to the
Army. In the bipolar context of the Cold War, the political fanaticism
that characterized the leadership of Lt.-Col. Mengistu Haile Mariam
was rationalized as an attempt to safeguard national unity against
threats of foreign aggression or internal dislocation. With the support
of the Soviet Union—and under pressure from it—the revolutionary
military dictatorship tried to transform into a people’s democracy. This
process was completed in 1987, two years before the fall of the Berlin
Wall and four years before the collapse of the Soviet Union and the
destruction of Africa’s largest army by a remarkably well-organized
rebel guerrilla group.
Eritrea. In Chapter 9 Prunier discusses Eritrea, which formed a special

case in Ethiopia’s historical trajectory. Since antiquity, exposed to all
kinds of trade and smuggling, Ethiopia’s Red Sea façade had been open
to overseas influences. After the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 the
Red Sea became an arena of competition among European powers and
Eritrea became an Italian colony in 1890. The Italian colonial author-
ities devoted significant investment to turning it into a stepping-stone
for fulfilling their ambition to expand their empire to cover the whole
Horn of Africa. The historical experience of colonial discrimination,
the interaction with Italian settlers, and the introduction of a modern
economy entailed the emergence of a distinct Eritrean identity. After
the Italian defeat in 1941, the process of decolonization under British
supervision led to a short intermediary period of liberalization that
favoured the formation of a civil society and further distanced
10
INTRODUCTION
Eritreans from the Ethiopian empire. Haile Selassie claimed the

“return” of Eritrea into his realm. But a ten-year-long federal union
between Ethiopia and Eritrea (1952–62) failed to take into consider-
ation the specificity of Eritrea. The country was then absorbed into a
union with Ethiopia, but the Ethiopian framework of absolute impe-
rial sovereignty did not correspond to the democratic aspirations of
Eritreans. Resisting annexation by Ethiopia, this Eritrean liberal orien-
tation transformed itself into a militant armed movement. For thirty
years, the experience of guerrilla warfare and political indoctrination
radically transformed the collective consciousness of Eritreans and
their leadership. If tensions eased after the glorious days of indepen-
dence in 1993, its competition with Ethiopia continued in the eco-
nomic field and was exacerbated by disputes over monetary sover-
eignty. This led to a war over boundaries that broke out in 1998. Since
the official end of the conflict in 2000 the two countries have not been
reconciled, and the Eritrean regime has isolated itself with a form of
totalitarian political and social delirium.
The Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). In the wake of the

Eritrean liberation movement, the national question was raised
throughout Ethiopia by other peripheral components of the empire.
After Eritrea was fully annexed into the Ethiopian Empire in 1962, not
only coastal Muslim populations but also Christian highlanders dared
to challenge the “mother nation”. This struggle inspired other people,
particularly among the younger generations, who found in the Eritrean
struggle a model for contesting their subordinate situation in the
Empire. In northern Ethiopia, Tigrayan militancy in favour of indepen-
dence led to the creation of the TPLF in 1975. In Chapter 10 Medhane
Tadesse traces the history of this movement from its foundation by a
group of Marxist students, who managed to rally the local peasant
population to the idea of armed struggle. Having a contiguous terri-
tory and ambiguous relations with the Eritrean People’s Liberation
Front (EPLF), the TPLF became a laboratory for political ideas. After
several internal disputes and political trials this ideology of struggle
forged the concepts and practices that are still the operating guidelines
of the TPLF-led regime today. This movement acquired a national
dimension by gathering around itself a coalition of other ethnic-based
organizations that coalesced in 1989 into the EPRDF. Within the

EPRDF, the TPLF executives have provided the ideological direction

of the government, as well as much of its leadership.
11
Federalism and revolutionary democracy since 1991. The third and

last section of the book deals with federal Ethiopia under the uncon-
tested leadership of the EPRDF. In Chapter 11 Sarah Vaughan traces

some of the dynamics and constraints of the three processes of decen-

tralization, democratization and liberalization since 1991. From the
onset of the government of transition, administrative units were reor-
ganized according to mainly ethnic criteria and expectations were cat-
astrophically high. When the constitution of the Federal Democratic
Republic was ratified in 1994 the new Ethiopian leaders were sus-
pected of pushing the country towards violent dissolution by using its
ethnic fault lines as the basis for a new power structure. Yet, despite its
internal contradictions, Ethiopian ethno-federalism still stands more
than twenty years after its conception, and has not yet generated any
major crisis. Tensions are high, violent outbursts erupt sporadically,
but the most serious conflicts of recent years have been tied less to ten-
sions between local groups than to national and regional issues. And
when faced with these challenges Meles Zenawi’s federal government
has been both tough and, where necessary, flexible.
Elections. The admission of Ethiopia into the league of democratic

nations implies the organization of elections whose results depend, in
principle, on the people’s judgement of the regime’s behaviour. In
Chapter 12 Patrick Gilkes reflects on the last two elections, held in
2005 and 2010. The May 2005 elections marked a significant change
in Ethiopia’s political history. If the pre-electoral campaign provided
the country’s first genuine electoral contest, the post-electoral crisis
over the credibility of the results led the EPRDF to revise its model by
turning to the well-off social elite, whom they recruited as model
agents of change. Consequently, the 2010 elections left no space for
dissent and the ruling coalition won 99 per cent of the seats. This obvi-
ously unrepresentative figure should not, however, be completely dis-
regarded: a large portion of the public was ready to admit that the gov-
ernment had worked efficiently for the socio-economic transformation
of the country.
Regional challenges. Ethiopia’s ethnic question, its lack of access to the

sea and its conflict with Egypt over access to the water of the Nile have
remained critical issues for hundreds of years, influencing its develop-
ment and defining its place on the regional geopolitical scene. In
12
INTRODUCTION
Chapter 13 Medhane Tadesse describes the military and diplomatic

actions of the EPRDF-led government in response to several challenges
related to these issues: the Ethio-Eritrean war and its postponed resolu-
tion; the Somali conundrum and the threat of terrorism by self-styled
Islamists; the conflicts in the Sudan and the South Sudan independence
process; the development of the hydropower and irrigation potential of
the Nile waters and the trial of strength with Egypt. Tadesse argues that
diplomacy has been “more fruitful, if less dramatic, than the unilateral
use of the military as a means of managing regional security”. Ethiopia’s
involvement in African Union peacekeeping missions and cooperation
with other international organizations were, for example, used in a
rather successful strategy designed to block the emergence of a coalition
of countries antagonistic to Ethiopia’s regional policy imperatives.
Economic development. The proliferation of skyscrapers, the opening

of clothes factories, the new cultivation of thousands of acres of arable
land by foreign investors, and ambitious investments such as the Grand
Ethiopian Renaissance Dam attest to Ethiopia’s emergence as an
“African Lion”. In Chapter 14 on the dynamics of economic develop-
ment, René Lefort acknowledges that the government has managed to
get the country moving—and moving fast—in pursuit of ambitious
growth objectives. However, statistical indicators have to be ques-
tioned, as do the paradoxes of a strongly state-led economy that aims
not only to control strategic sectors and material resources, but also to
orient people’s lives towards development. The extreme concentration
of economic assets in the hands of parastatal companies throttles the
capacity of private investors to enter Ethiopia’s market.
Urban renewal. One of the most striking features of Ethiopia’s eco-

nomic development is the expansion and transformation of its cities.
Urban renewal is particularly visible in the capital city, Addis Ababa,
which is dealt with as a case study in Chapter 15 by Perrine Duroyaume.
What are the economic factors propping up the wooden scaffoldings
that surround new skyscrapers, many of which remain empty? Where
do the new freeways and railway lines lead? How does public planning
work to organize the eradication of shantytowns, the mushrooming of
condominium neighbourhoods and the expansion of residential areas
far into the outskirts? The mechanisms of urban policy have attracted
massive investment in real estate, leading to speculative excesses.
13
Meles Zenawi. The closing chapter by Prunier revisits the life and
career of the late Ethiopian Prime Minister. Meles Zenawi was a par-
adox because his life straddled two different historical periods. His
“first life” was that of a twentieth century revolutionary leader in the
mould of Mao Zedong, Fidel Castro or Ho Chi Minh. But his “second
life” progressively turned into that of a post-communist statesman on
the Deng Xiaoping and Vladimir Putin model. Few leaders in Africa,
if any, have reached his level of visibility and prestige, or motivated as
much adulation or hostility. In a way, his biography is still not
“closed”, as the final judgement on his paradoxical personality has yet
to be passed and will largely depend on the success or failure of the
modernization process now underway in Ethiopia.
***
Ethiopia is engaged in such a frantic race towards modernity that both
its successes and its failures are being constantly added to. Ideally this
book (or at least some of its chapters) should be reissued or electroni-
cally updated every eighteen months, not only to keep pace with the
transformations but also to try to assess how “timeless Ethiopia” is
faring in the process. Ethiopian tourism promotion campaigns still try
to evoke a majestic image of biblical solemnity wrapped in the nostal-
gic remnants of feudal grandeur. But from Axum to Konso, from
Gondar to Harar, Ethiopia cannot be put under an inverted glass
dome, and its inhabitants even less so. The nation is moving forward,
at times in complex ways. This unique country is going through an
entirely new period of growing pains and all its friends hope that this
process will result in a democratic and prosperous future. That will
require work.
Paris—Addis Ababa—Washington, 2009–2014.
14
1
ETHIOPIANS IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
THE STRUCTURE AND TRANSFORMATION

OF THE POPULATION
Éloi Ficquet and Dereje Feyissa
According to its own calendar, Ethiopia entered the twenty-first cen-

tury in September 2007 of the Gregorian calendar. This is an indica-
tion of how the country has avoided international norms for a long
time, asserting its own difference. The symbolism of reaching the year
2000 was marked in the international community by the advancement
of “Millennium Development Goals”. Similarly, the celebration of the
Ethiopian millennium, two years after the contested elections of 2005,
provided an opportunity for the regime to herald a triumphant era of
“Growth and Transformation”. Ethiopia was to be reborn under firm
state planning and control, and new-born Ethiopians were to be incul-
cated into the ideology of Revolutionary Democracy and imbued with
the hopes of the African Renaissance. This latter concept, popularized
by the South African President Thabo Mbeki in 1998, became the
motto of the celebration of the fiftieth birthday of the African Union
15
at the brand new, Chinese-built headquarters of the pan-African orga-

nization in Addis Ababa in May 2013.
Ethiopia has become the second most populated country in Africa,
behind Nigeria, having reached an estimated population of 91.2 mil-
lion in 2012, based on the projection of the 2007 national census. This
opening chapter will highlight the geographical settings, the historical
dynamics and the cultural characteristics of the diverse ethnic groups
that compose the Ethiopian population at this time of deep transfor-
mations. The structural features of Ethiopia, based on the physical
dualism of well-watered highlands and dry lowlands, have left a strong
imprint on human activities and the organization of society. These
determinations are outweighed, however, by the capacity of human
groups to adapt to risks and transform their environment through the
combined effects of solidarity and greed, willingness and coercion.
Over the last decade, the pace of development and social change has
quickened in all kinds of sectors. There have been stunning growth of
roads, towns and markets; expansion of commercial trade and tour-
ism; increases of power and water supplies and spreading of commu-
nication technologies; investments in large scale irrigation schemes;
building of schools and higher education institutions; and various
other governmental and non-governmental projects. But in the last
decade Ethiopia has also seen climate change and organizational inef-
ficiency causing food insecurity; the spread of HIV/AIDS; the hopeless-
ness of high youth unemployment and the loss of emigrants. Ethiopians
at the beginning of the twenty-first century have new needs, desires,
opportunities and obstacles, which have affected their sense of their
local and national identities.
There is a mass of ethnographic and historical data to which one
might refer in the academic domain of Ethiopian studies, but the edi-
torial constraints of a single chapter will make for an overview rather
than a detailed study. For each society or cluster of societies, the fol-
lowing sections will provide only bird’s-eye views of landscapes, cus-
tomary activities, traditional political organizations and contemporary
challenges and cultural transformations.1 By switching from one terri-
tory to another we will endeavour to capture Ethiopia’s diversity of
voices and perspectives on regional histories that depart from the
mainstream national narrative. For a general review of the role of eth-
nicity in contemporary Ethiopian history and politics we refer to Sarah
Vaughan’s chapter in this volume.2 The bibliography at the end of this
16
chapter will provide references to the most accessible studies for

English readers. Online open resources like Wikipedia and community
websites also provide huge amounts of information, albeit often
unchecked and uneven. Outsiders often take militant members of eth-
nic groups to be representative of their ethnicities, and the pseudo-
scholarly mythologies that militants produce from reconstructed tradi-
tions are sometimes taken seriously. Readers who want access to more
reliable and scholarly information are advised to refer to the five vol-
umes of the Encyclopaedia Aethiopica, which offer detailed articles by
Ethiopian and international specialists on the current state of knowl-
edge on almost all of Ethiopia’s languages and cultures.
The Habesha or Abyssinians: the self-proclaimed core

of Ethiopia’s national identity
The name Abyssinia sounds old fashioned when used to refer to the
contemporary Ethiopian state, but it remains pertinent as a designation
of its original nucleus. The English term “Abyssinian”, like its close
cognates in other European languages, derives from the term “Habesha”
which in Ethiopia describes the cultural characteristics shared by the
predominantly Christian highlanders who reside between Asmara (in
central Eritrea) and Addis Ababa (in central Ethiopia). Most of these
highlanders speak Tigrinya or Amharic, both of which belong to the
Ethio-Semitic language family. However, the ethnic category Habesha
is slightly vague: it encompasses groups with common linguistic roots
and ancient historical ties, and therefore may also include the Gurage
people, although to a “lesser degree” since their lifestyle differs slightly
from that of a typical Habesha and they reside further south than other
Habesha groups.3 The peoples who refer to themselves as “Habesha”
in the term’s most extensive meaning make up about 36.7 per cent of
Ethiopia’s population (c. 19.9 million Amhara, 4.5 million Tigray, 1.9
million Gurage and 0.9 million Agew).4 This section will focus on the
northern Habesha societies, namely the Amhara and the Tigray, and
some scattered or enclave minorities.
Although the ethnic labels of Amhara and Tigray are widely used to
talk about Ethiopian matters in general terms, these meta-categories
only partially correspond to the identities that Amharic and Tigrigna
speakers take themselves to have, since these fluctuate between, on the
one hand, quite strong local and regional territorial divisions5 and, on
17
the other hand, divisions on a national scale, not least that between the
contemporary states of Ethiopia and Eritrea.
The mountains of north-west Ethiopia and central Eritrea constitute
a particular environment whose temperate climate in a subtropical
zone and fragmentation into plateaux have been favourable to the rise
of a cereal-based agriculture, which is the main unifying trait of this
cluster of societies.6 Daily routines and domestic life are organized
around the preparation of breads and pancakes (enjera) accompanied
by spiced stews (wet or tsebhi), which are the staple foods and require
the cultivation, storing and processing of cereals, of which the most
highly regarded is a plant indigenous to Ethiopia, tef. Ploughs are used
to prepare the soils. This technique is symbolic of the Habesha social
order: in a hierarchical society, historically founded on the taxation of
lower social groups, the ox plough represents the lowest link in the
chain of authority to which everyone submits, and confers on their
owners a minimal degree of dignity in the social pyramid.7
Before the 1975 land collectivization reforms, which are still in
application today, land ownership in Habesha societies was regulated
by a great variety of local systems that can be put into two main cate-
gories: untaxed lands, called rist that were shared between the mem-
bers of an enlarged family group, and taxed lands, called gult, admin-
istrated by dignitaries or parishes.8 This territorial organization
favoured the church and the army as vectors of social mobility, and
contributed to the mixing of populations. Having a written culture had
been instrumental in the circulation and diffusion of ideas on a wide
scale. The expansionist aims of the Christian kingdom were supported
by a religious ideology in which Ethiopian Christians took over the
role of the chosen people. This justified the subjugation, exploitation
and enslavement of peripheral non-Christian societies, who themselves
gradually assimilated elements of the Habesha ethos.9 When this
regional African power was challenged by the expansionism of colo-
nial Christian powers, the Habesha clerical and political elite redefined
the mould of Ethiopian culture by adapting it to the new foreign stan-
dards.10 This process of unification, recodification and standardization
of a modern national culture that was linked with urban centres was
done at the expense of popular cultures and subaltern ethnicities.
AMHARA. The Amhara’s central position in the highlands, their

extension into the country’s urban settlements, their role in the con-
18
struction of the state apparatus, and the official status of the Amharic
language all mean that they are sometimes seen as equivalent to (and
conflate themselves with) the Ethiopian people per se. Their prime
position is rooted in an age-old process which began in the fourteenth
century with the emergence of the Christian Solomonic dynasty in Beta
Amhara (corresponding to the southern part of today’s Wollo region).
The kings of Amhara gradually imposed their language and political
mores on the territories under their sovereignty. Although learned cler-
ical culture was expressed and transmitted through the written Geez
language, the status of Amharic as the official language of the state
was reinforced, expanded and modernized under the reigns of emper-
ors Menelik II and Haile Selassie I. In recent political history, in par-

ticular since the 1960s, this primacy has been hotly contested by speak-
ers of other languages, some of whose ideologues denounce assimilation
into Amhara as a form of colonialism. The current ethno-federal
regime has imposed certain formal territorial and institutional limita-
tions on the Amhara people. However, this attempt to make the
Amhara just one ethnic group amongst others is undermined by their
considerable extension outside the limits assigned to them, as testified
by the vitality of modern urban cultural production in the Amharic
language both in Ethiopia and in international diaspora networks.11
TIGRAY. The Tigray people are also called Tigrayan or Tigrean in the
academic literature. In Ethiopia, the various groups of Tigrinya speak-
ers commonly identify themselves as Tegaru (the plural form of Tigray
or Tigraway).12 Whereas the term Tigrinya is used only to designate the
language in Ethiopia, in Eritrea it not only designates the language but
also the people. Meanwhile, Amharic speakers usually call them Tigre,
but they should not be confused with the Tigre people, who are
Muslims and live on the western lowlands of the Eritrean Red Sea
coast. The variety and ambiguity of the forms of this ethnonym are
indications of the rapid and still unsettled evolution of this identity in
the ethno-political frameworks of Ethiopia and Eritrea, from a subal-
tern situation to a dominant political position in both countries since
the 1990s. Tigray groups define the Habesha identity more narrowly,
claiming that it is applicable only to them as an ethnonym, because
their territory overlaps with that of the ancient Kingdom of Aksum
and the Tigrinya language is directly linked with the ancient Geez lan-
guage. But also noteworthy is the fact that Tigray oral traditions allow
19
for the integration of Amhara and Tigray lineages, bearing witness to

ancient and constant relations between these two peoples. When it
comes to local political organizations and the management of land
holdings, Tigray societies are characterized by the important role of
village assemblies in decision making and the delivery of justice.
Current political trends have been influenced by the formation of the
Italian colony of Eritrea in 1890, which disassociated the destinies of
Ethiopian and Eritrean Tigray peoples. In Eritrea, Tigray highland
Christians were the main members of the colonial indigenous elite, and
were exposed to modern education as well as to racist and discrimina-
tory behaviour from the colonizers. In Ethiopia, the contest for the
royal crown after the reign of Yohannes IV placed the Tigray ruling
families and commoners in a downtrodden position, causing in the fol-
lowing decades insurrectional movements collectively known as
Weyane. The political grievances of the Tigrinya speaking community
in the post-Yohannes IV period are inscribed in the expression
“Zemene Shoa” (that is, the Shoan era), shorthand for the new and
overbearing Shoa hegemony, which resulted in the economic depriva-
tion and political decline of the Tigrayans. The peripheralization of the
Tigray region, a former political centre, was a catalyst—effectively
used by the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF)—for the political
and military mobilization of the Tigrayans, historically major actors in
the making of the Ethiopian state. Currently, Tigrayan cultural iden-
tity is promoted within the Tigray Regional State, which uses Tigrinya
as the language of the regional government and of primary and second-
ary school education.
The Tigrinya speaking groups of Eritrea and Ethiopia were brought
together in the liberation wars provoked by the annexation of Eritrea
by Ethiopia in 1962. A common culture of guerrilla resistance against
the Ethiopian state was forged, with an emphasis on communal egali-
tarianism and self-reliance. But the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front
(EPLF) and the Ethiopian TPLF had contradictory strategies and ideol-
ogies, strengthening the development of separate Ethiopian and Eritrean
Tigray identities. These quarrels are one of the sources of the border
dispute between the two countries that has been ongoing since 1998.13
AGEW. The term Agew designates a very fragmented linguistic and

cultural group, made up of scattered enclaves in Habesha territory.
The principal groups are the Awngi to the west of Gojjam, the Khamir
20
and the Khamta in north Lasta, the Kemant to the west of Gondar,14
and the Bilin to the north, in the western Eritrean region of Keren.
These groups can be considered to be the dispersed remnants of the
ancient Cushitic societies that were established in the highlands. They
have resisted the expansion of the Christian kingdom and its unifica-
tion under the grip of Habesha political culture.15 The Habesha have
borrowed considerably from Agew material and popular culture, and
Habesha languages, particularly Amharic, have been influenced by
Agew languages. The Agew groups who were not assimilated were
progressively pushed into the least productive lands and confined to
the low social status of those who practice “impure” artisanal activi-
ties. The reason for this exclusion is that they are said to bear the
“evileye” (buda), a malevolent supernatural power. Even if not ethni-
cally Agew, isolated occupational minorities of craft workers (potters,
blacksmiths, tanners, weavers) are still condemned to exist in the spa-
tial and social margins. This kind of discrimination against craftsmen
is not specific to Habesha societies but is found all over Ethiopia. The
Agew have established an autonomous self-government in two zones
of the Amhara Regional State: the Awi Zone and Wag Himra which
are not territorially contiguous.
BETA ISRAEL. The Ethiopian Jews, often called Falasha from the
pejorative name used by their neighbours, call themselves Beta Israel
(House of Israel). Before they migrated to Israel they formed mainly
Amharic-speaking dispersed communities. They specialized in handi-
crafts and were considered impure outcasts. The issue of the origin of
this identity is complex. There are two competing scholarly views: one
defends the hypothesis of an ancient settlement of Jewish migrants
from Egypt or Yemen; the other argues that conversion to Judaism was
a form of ideological resistance used by some Agew groups, who
claimed alliance with the Chosen People of the Old Testament in reac-
tion to the persecution they received from the dominant Christian
Habesha society.16 Their contemporary history is that of an absorption
into the Jewish world, beginning with the setting up of European
Jewish missions at the end of the nineteenth century and culminating,
one century later, in their mass migration to Israel after their recogni-
tion by the Israeli law of right of return. The aliyah (immigration) was
enabled by dramatic airlift operations. In 1984–5, Operation Moses
rescued and transported 9,000 Ethiopian Jews from refugee camps in
21
Sudan. Operation Solomon transported another 15,000 in May 1991,

just before the collapse of the Derg. A total of nearly 90,000 Ethiopian
Jews migrated to Israel. The last episode concerned 2,000 so-called
Falashmura, who were the leftover descendants of Ethiopian Jews who
had converted to Christianity. In 2003 they were given Israeli visas on
condition of conversion to Orthodox Judaism. A new page in the his-
tory of the Beta Israel has been opened since their relocation to Israel.
They have struggled to integrate themselves into modern Israeli society
by surmounting racist prejudice against black people and struggling for
the preservation of their Ethiopian identity.
HABESHA MUSLIMS. Among the minorities who compose the

Habesha social fabric, we also have to consider Muslims, who repre-
sent 4 per cent of the Tigray population and 17 per cent of the
Amhara. Known as Jabarti, they are collected in village communities
scattered in the Christian highlands.17 Their isolation, endogamy, spe-
cialization in trade and weaving, religious practices and alimentary
taboos confer upon them the characteristics of a casted group. The
Argobba people (who number c. 150,000) also form a fragmented
social complex, but show a greater territorial continuity, as they are
made up of a succession of fortified villages on the still cultivable limit
of the highlands, filling the gaps between Amhara, Oromo and Afar
societies.18 The Amharic speaking Muslims of Wollo represent 71 per
cent of the population of this region, where conditions of tight interre-
ligious mixing are common.
The HARARI urban enclave. The city of Harar, at the northern tip of
the eastern Ethiopian plateau, has remote historical links with Habesha
populations, for the Harari people (estimated to number 30,000 today)
speak an Ethio-Semitic language that connects them to the Habesha
cluster (in the widest sense of that term). Local popular traditions, par-
tially confirmed by historical investigations,19 assume that the first
foundations of the place as a centre of Islamic teaching and missionary
diffusion were laid down at the end of the thirteenth century by a holy
man named Abadir, originally from Mecca, who is still venerated as
the saint and protector of the city.20 The regional hegemony of Harar
reached its climax in the first half of the sixteenth century under imam
Ahmad bin Ibrahim al-Ghazi, known by the derogatory name of Gragn
(“the left-handed”) for the war he led against the Christian kingdom.
His eventual defeat led to the gradual decline of Harar’s power.
22
After the Oromo of the Barentu moiety (see below) settled in the
area in the second half of the sixteenth century, walls were built
around the city by Emir Nur bin Mujahid and agreements were nego-
tiated to maintain relations between the urban trading elite and their
rural Oromo and Somali neighbours and suppliers of commodities.
The Harari people were concentrated in the fenced city (called Jugol),
where they developed an original model of urban civilization based on
Sufi Islam. After the seizure of Harar and its surrounding region,
named Hararge, in 1887 by the Shoan armies of Menilik (led by Ras
Makonnen, the father of the future Haile Selassie) the city was trans-
formed into a regional administrative centre, attracting a new popula-
tion of Christians who dwelled outside the walls. Because of political
repression under the imperial regime and then the confiscation of prop-
erties under the revolutionary regime, a large number of Harari
migrated abroad, to the United States or the Arabian Peninsula. Under
the current federal regime, the distinctiveness of the Harari language
and culture has been recognized through the delineation of a regional
state of its own. But management of this enclave has involved some
tension because the Harari are a minority and constitute a cultural and
political elite in a city that has become a multi-cultural melting-pot,
where the Oromo, Somali and Amhara inhabitants play significant
social roles.
The Oromo: the demographic majority with a subaltern

political role
The Oromo people represent more than one third of the Ethiopian
population (32.1 per cent in 1994; 34.5 per cent in 2007). The vast
extent of their territory in Ethiopia—extending in the west to the bor-
ders of Sudan, in the east into the arid pastures they vie for with the
Somali people, in the south along the Tana River into Kenya, and
reaching as far north as the confines of the Tigray plateau—means that
the different regional groups that make up the Oromo people are in
contact with nearly all of the other ethnic groups of Ethiopia. 93.5 per
cent of the 25 million Oromo in Ethiopia21 live within the regional
state of Oromiya.22
If the Oromo have a particularity it is the plasticity of their identity,
which has adapted to the whole palette of social and cultural configu-
rations that compose Ethiopia’s diversity. From one region to another,
23
their way of life encompasses a large variety of agricultural and pasto-

ral practices as well as modern urban activities. Another indication of
their diversity is their religious denominations. In 2007 47.5 per cent
of the population of Oromiya called themselves Muslims (mainly con-
centrated in the eastern zones and in the area of Jimma in the south-
west); 30.5 per cent were Orthodox Christians (concentrated mainly
in central areas); and 17.7 per cent were Protestants (concentrated
mainly in western zones).23 3 per cent still adhere to the traditional
Oromo religion. Under the label of Waaqeffanna (from the name of
the supreme sky-God, Waaqa), some intellectuals have attempted to
revive traditional beliefs and rituals like pilgrimages, with the aim of
reaffirming a transversal spirituality that links all Oromo.24
The diversification of the Oromo regional sub-groups has not taken
away several essential factors which tie this people to a shared identity:
a common language (Afaan Oromoo, also known as Oromiffa, which
belongs to the Cushitic family) of which the regional dialects are mutu-
ally intelligible; a sustainable rather than exploitative way of looking
at the relationship between nature and human beings; the high value
attached to cattle husbandry and the passion for horse-riding; a polit-
ico-ritual substratum based on the passing of responsibilities between
generations; and the conception of a shared past and present, which
gives the sense of a common destiny and forms a counter-narrative to
that laid down by the arbiters of Ethiopia’s official history, which is
centred on the competition for power between Habesha groups and
casts the Oromo in the role of villains.
A mainstream historical narrative written by rivals and outsid-

ers. Often designated in historical sources by the name of “Galla”,
which has strong pejorative undertones, Oromo were long described
in the historic literature of Ethiopian Christians as warriors, bandits
and heathens. This persisting representation was reproduced in
European travellers’ accounts. The Oromo’s bad reputation among the
Habesha was influenced by biblical depictions of the enemies of Israel,
and was caused by the conditions of their appearance on the Ethiopian
historical stage. Surging from the margins of medieval Ethiopia in the
middle of the sixteenth century after the devastating Muslim-Christian
wars, the Oromo clans threw themselves into a vast migration and
expansion into weakened territories that were more or less dependent
on the Muslim states in the east and the Christian kingdom in the west.
24
Because of their unconventional combat skills and fighting spirit they

were feared as a scourge and a divine punishment. Progressively,
between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the different Oromo
groups, who were pastoral nomads, took up sedentary forms of life on
these new lands, assimilating the local societies into their clan structure
assigning them subaltern status positions. By absorbing and adapting
to parts of the local cultures that had preceded them, the Oromo clans
reorganized themselves along territorial divisions and their economic,
political and religious divergences increased.25
As they were assimilated into the social fabric of the lands in which
they had settled, the Oromo ruling groups began to represent another
kind of threat in the eyes of their Christian neighbours. By adopting
the codes of the Amhara aristocracy (who in turn had adopted Oromo
war codes, such as giving horse names to warriors) and through alli-
ances, intermarriages and the might of their troops, some Oromo lin-
eages became powerful parties in the political-military game. The pic-
ture of the treacherous alien replaced that of the unknown, ferocious
invader in Habesha minds. This political competition intensified under
the late eighteenth century Gondar kings, when Oromo ruling families
reached the highest positions as a result of their alliances with the
Christian aristocracy.26 The following period, called the Era of the
Princes, is generally described as a period of decline, but it can also be
seen as having fostered a new, more pluralistic political order. This led
in the nineteenth century to a movement of ideological resistance
aimed at containing the rising Oromo political influence and restoring
the lost Christian hegemony through reforms inspired by European
modernity and nation-building policies. European powers were search-
ing for footholds on the Red Sea route to Asia and they supplied their
Ethiopian Christian partners with stocks of modern firearms. The
kings of Shoa took advantage of the power they gained from this by
extending their domination over Oromo lands and beyond to the
south-west and south-east, claiming that they were recovering the lost
provinces of the pre-sixteenth century Christian kingdom. Thus the
contemporary state of Ethiopia was built on foundations that involved
the military conquest of the Oromo and other neighbouring peoples,
the violent crushing of their resistance, their political submission, the
grabbing of their land and resources by settlers and the exploitation of
their labour force.
Since the eighteenth century, some Oromo polities had been Chris
tianized and incorporated into the Amhara Shoan power system, and
25
some Oromo warlords were given high ranks in the military elite.
Oromo troops, for example those led by the warlord Ras Gobana
Dachi, played a major role in the conquest and subjection of other
Oromo and non-Oromo territories. Other Oromo groups resisted
forced incorporation into the Ethiopian Empire in various ways. In the
face of the strength of the Shoan armed forces, spiritual and ideological
resistance was the most viable means. And conversion to Islam (in the
east) or to Protestantism (in the west) not only became a way of assert-
ing and preserving the distinctiveness of Oromo identity, but was also a
means of access to literacy. Ideological resistance was furthered by cul-
tural movements that aimed at promoting Oromo identity (like the
Mecha-Tulama association among western Oromo, or the Afran Qallo
music band in the east).27 The fully-fledged Oromo nationalist political
movement was foreshadowed by local rebellions against the authoritar-
ian rule and centralization policies of Haile Selassie’s regime. The
Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) was founded in the militant atmosphere
at the beginning of the Ethiopian Revolution in 1974, and gradually
militarized itself as the Ethiopian military regime became more radical.
Its struggle was supported by Sudan and Somalia, who hosted Oromo
refugee camps which doubled as OLF back-up bases. From exile, mostly
in North America and Europe, intellectuals formulated an Oromo
nationalist ideology modelled on those of other liberation movements.
It is in the domain of history that this ideology found its most powerful
voice, rehabilitating the Oromo from the roles of barbarian and villain
assigned to them in official Ethiopian historiography.
In 1991 Oromo fighters took part in the final offensives against the
communist military junta (the Derg) under the coordination of the rebel
armies of the north. After the storming of Addis Ababa and the over-
throw of the Derg, the OLF was at first integrated into the process of
elaborating the Ethiopian federal constitution, but was quickly side-
lined because of the radical nature of its claims for the independence of
Oromiya (the Oromo nation). The political representation of the
Oromo people within the new federal regime was shouldered by the
Oromo People’s Democratic Organization (OPDO), perceived to be
one of the ethnic “satellite parties” of the ruling coalition, the Ethiopian
People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF). The federal consti-
tution led to the delimitation of a very large Oromo territory, the
Oromiya Regional State, whose boundaries correspond more or less to
those in the maps produced by the nationalist ideologues. Inside this
26
framework, the symbolic forms of autonomy granted to the Oromo are

counterbalanced by a central political control that is all the more
repressive as the demographic weight of the Oromo, their alternative
political culture and their region’s immense agro-industrial resources
mean they continue to represent a potential threat to the interests of the
nationally dominant Habesha groups.
Gadaa: the generational political ideal of the Oromo. From an inter-

nal Oromo perspective the account of history should also be guided by
the idea of a cyclical turnover of generations. The active role played by
generational groups in the management of communal affairs is encap-
sulated in the emic category of Gadaa. After intellectual reprocessing
by foreign and Oromo scholars, it has become the most talked about
and cherished value that is taken to express contemporary national
Oromo sentiment. Indeed, Gadaa is seen as a specifically Oromo
republican and egalitarian model, and is opposed to the hierarchical
and authoritarian structure of the Christian Kingdom of Ethiopia. In
practice, in most of the Oromo regional groups today leadership is not
defined and organized through the application of generational Gadaa
principles (except in some pastoral communities), but membership of
Gadaa generational sets has retained a ritual meaning in many locali-
ties, in particular in the administration of customary justice.
In the still operating versions of the Gadaa system, particularly
among Borana pastoralists, all males are gathered into sets defined nei-
ther by their age nor by their patrilineal lineage, but according to their
membership of a generation. All sons of men belonging to one genera-
tion will form another single generation. As a generation gathers indi-
viduals of very different ages it is divided into five more sub-classes
according to age. The sons of the members of class A will then form a
class A‘. In their turn, the sons of A‘—the grandsons of A—will
become members of A, according to the cyclical course of the system.
Every eight years each class progresses into a different grade. Each
grade is characterized by its own set of rights and responsibilities, from
infant shepherds to young warriors, mature decision-makers and wise
elders. In this way social roles are distributed in a life-long sequence,
the exercise of leadership transiting from one generational class to
another. What is more, the members of the generational class in charge
of leadership and decisions of justice vote some of their fellows to
become their representatives or chiefs. The gathering of generational
27
class assemblies under the shade of venerable trees like the sycamore
fig (odaa) is one of the most powerful symbols of the democratic ideal
of the Oromo, oriented towards preservation of peace (nagaa) through
the maintenance of a flow of arguments and blessings.28
In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, during the period of con-
quest and expansion of the Oromo clans, the role of leadership of
Gadaa assemblies was paramount. The institution was weakened by
the effects of distance between dispersed clans. Its egalitarian and
trans-segmentary values were challenged by internal political evolution
in the regions where Oromo settlers accumulated wealth and power
over indigenous populations. The principles of elective leadership and
generational changeover were gradually replaced by hereditary offices
that led to the formation of monarchical institutions. In regions where
Gadaa remained the main system of government, the Christian impe-
rial conquest eventually put an end to the customary authority of
Gadaa leaders, who were replaced by selected personalities among
mighty lineages (in particular Qaallu, or priests of the traditional
Oromo religion) to play the role of local customary authorities and
tax-collectors.
It has also to be noted that Gadaa has never been the sole principle
of the Oromo social order: its principles have coexisted with other
forms of solidarity among kin groups associated with the hereditary
transmission of ritual charges. Moreover, Gadaa is not specifically
Oromo. Its form is shared by other societies in southern Ethiopia and
bordering countries, for example the Dassanetch, Hor, Konso, Gedeo,
Nyangatom, Toposa and Turkana.29 In each of these societies there are
variations in the size, duration, gradation and responsibilities of gen-
eration sets, but these are variations of a common political grammar
that transcends ethnic divisions.
Short overview of the Oromo regional groups. Under the single ethnic
designation of Oromo are found diverse regional entities. Historically,
since the time of their great expansion and conquest, the Oromo clans
were divided into two moieties, the Borana and the Barentu, who
migrated and conquered new lands in different directions by splitting
their Gadaa assemblies. The Borana oriented their migration towards
central, western and southern regions. The Barentu expanded in east-
ern and northern directions. This early distinction continued to struc-
ture the representations of regional divisions from an Oromo perspec-
28
tive, but it was gradually overshadowed by the fixation of territorial

entities that became official through administrative maps.
BORANA. In the semi-arid and bushy hills of a wide plateau straddling

the Ethiopian-Kenyan border, the Borana-Oromo have a pastoral way
of life mainly based on cattle herding and dependent on permanent deep
wells. In the last few decades a series of severe droughts and conflicts
have led many households to drop out of pastoral activities and seek aid
and jobs in urban areas. The Borana-Oromo are understood by other
Oromo to be the guardians of the most pure Oromo cultural values.
This view is supported by the high density of sacred shrines and the
presence of Qaallu of the Oromo religion and knowledgeable special-
ists of historical traditions. The Borana are also renowned for continu-
ing to practice the rules of the Gadaa generational system through large
ritual assemblies of decision and peace making.30
ARSI. The south-eastern highlands, from the shores of the lakes of the
Rift Valley to the ridges of the Bale Mountains that arch over the plains
of the Ogaden, form a vast territory occupied by the Arsi group. They
practice a diversified agro-pastoral system based on cereal cultivation,
exploiting climatic altitudinal contrasts. Historical tradition and schol-
arly debates have converged to identify the region south of Bale as the
original cradle of the Oromo before their great expansion of the six-
teenth century. In the course of this history, the Arsi group incorporated
into its clan structure several pre-existing peoples who were under the
authority of medieval Islamic states (in particular the sultanate of
Hadiya and the lesser known sultanate of Bale).31 In the last quarter of
the nineteenth century, the conquest of Arsi territories by the imperial
Christian armies took a dozen of years of harsh campaigns and violent
repression (notably large-scale mutilation of prisoners) to overcome the
fierce local resistance. Gadaa assemblies were thereafter forbidden and
the Arsi practiced mass conversion to Islam as a form of ideological
resistance against assimilation into the Christian empire. The fertile
land was alienated by Christian Amhara settlers, who were locally per-
ceived as colonizers. The persisting situation of land alienation, heavy
taxation and religious harassment led to the outbreak of an armed
revolt in the 1960s.32 The recent spread of Salafi Islamic reform doc-
trine in this region has also been a response to the perceived marginal-
ization and domination by a distant state structure.33
29
HARARGE. The north-eastern highlands of Hararge are centred on the

religious, economic and political networks that have been controlled for
centuries by the urban society of Harar and the Harari Ethio-Semitic
speaking people. Despite being surrounded by Oromo settlers, and even
becoming a minority within the walls of the city, the Harari retained
their status as the literate upper class, made dominant over the rural
Oromo commoners through their commercial relationships and the
spread of Islam.34 Since the end of the nineteenth century the Oromo
farmers of this region have specialized in cash crops, the production of
coffee being supplanted by the cultivation of khat, a mild recreational
stimulant widely consumed in the Horn of Africa and Yemen, with
Somalia in particular representing a very lucrative market.35
TULAMA and MECHA. The south-east of Shoa—that is, the region

surrounding Addis Ababa—is inhabited by the Oromo of the Tulama
and Mecha groups. These Oromo share many traits with the Habesha:
in particular, cereal-based agriculture and the dominant influence of
the Orthodox Tewahedo Church. From the beginning of the nineteenth
century the Tulama and Mecha were gradually absorbed by the mili-
tary structures of the Christian Kingdom of Shoa and played an impor-
tant role in its expansion.36 These farmers are now exposed to the
inconveniences and the benefits of the huge transformations induced
by agro-industrial development and the expansion of the periphery of
Addis Ababa.
KARRAYU. In the lowlands at the foothills of the massifs of Shoa,

the Karrayu raise their herds in the pastures of the Awash Valley,
flocking to its banks in the dry season. The harnessing of the river to
develop industrial irrigated agriculture and natural reserves has con-
siderably diminished their pastoral area and increased their vulnera-
bility to drought. This lack of resources creates conflicts with their
Afar neighbours and pushes these nomads to seek employment in the
plantations.37
WALLAGA. To the west of the Didessa River up to the frontiers of

Sudan, the region of Wallagga was the seat of petty kingdoms founded
in the first half of the nineteenth century.38 The kingdom that eventu-
ally dominated was founded in the Naqamte area by a certain Moroda,
who came from a minority faction of the Leqa clan. This monarchy
30
flourished owing to the commercial benefits it received from its fron-

tier position. Facing the conquering Christian armies of Gojjam and
then Shoa, Moroda converted to Orthodox Christianity and took the
Christian military title of Dejazmach. He played the card of integra-
tion into the Ethiopian Empire of Menelik by paying a tribute of gold.
Paradoxically, choosing submission enabled the region to conserve a
certain autonomy, making it today one of the most vibrant centres of
contemporary Oromo particularism. At the beginning of the twentieth
century Protestant missions were set up in the area, and they were to
become the bedrock of the Mekana Yesus Church. The introduction of
literacy in the Oromo language and the theological divergence with the
central authorities were important factors that stimulated and cana-
lized the training of several generations of intellectuals who were the
initiators of the contemporary Oromo nationalist movement.39
GIBE. To the south-west of Ethiopia Oromo societies are organized

around the city of Jimma, an ancient commercial hub on which con-
verged all sorts of goods (ivory, civet, coffee) from the surrounding fer-
tile region, which is suited to intensive agro-forestry and is crisscrossed
by roads connecting markets to the commercial routes between Sudan
and the Red Sea. The slave trade was their principal source of wealth
in the eighteenth century. By imposing their rule and mingling with the
neighbouring ancient indigenous societies (that were previously ruled
by the Christianized Kingdom of Ennarya), the Oromo clans under-
went important transformations in their own social organization. At
the beginning of the nineteenth century the dispersal of the Gadaa
assemblies gave rise to the formation of five Oromo monarchies
(Guma, Gera, Gomma, Limmu and Jimma) on the medium altitude
plateaux that are divided by the tributaries of the Gibe River, which
flows into the Omo River. In order to reinforce their power by con-
necting themselves to regional and international trade networks, the
sovereigns and ruling classes converted to Islam and invited to their
side Muslim scholars from other Oromo Muslim areas such as Wollo
and Harar.40
The pastoral peoples of eastern Ethiopia

The Afar and Somali peoples represent the two principal groups of
lowland pastoralists in Ethiopia. Their languages belong to the eastern
branch of the Cushitic family. Each forms a linguistic community with
31
a homogeneous territory and culture despite internal divisions between

territorial units and large clan groups. Except for a few minority
groups, they predominantly believe in Islam, a religion whose cultural
values are based on the similar lifestyle of ancient Arab camel herders.
Ancient contacts between the African and Arabian sides of the Red Sea
and Gulf of Aden, as well as the circulation of traders and Muslim cler-
ics, have created multiple population admixtures.
The social organization of pastoral societies is caught between the
two principles of locality and genealogy. Under the harsh conditions of
very arid environments the struggle for survival requires knowledge
and control of local scarce resources as well as the ability to travel long
distance and to get assistance on the way. Every clan, lineage or lineage
segment possesses its pastures and water points. They pasture their
herds communally and unite to defend their settlements and animals.
If not resolved by internal procedures within clans, conflicts over own-
ership and management of resources (land, cattle, water) are referred
to mediating bodies such as councils of elders or ruling lineages in
charge of large territorial units. Mobility is facilitated by the territorial
dispersion of descent groups and by pacts of solidarity between fami-
lies. These wide networks of mutual assistance are particularly required
in hard times.
Ethiopian central government policies (where they exist), being dom-
inated by the interests and perspectives of the highlander ruling class,
have conflicted with efforts by pastoralists to protect their livelihoods
and environment. Since the imperial seizure and subjugation of the
peripheral lowlands a growing series of investments have been made in
large-scale irrigation schemes, mineral extraction and road construc-
tion. These encroachments of modernity and development on pastoral
lands have disrupted the fragile pastoral lifestyle.41 The domination of
cities over open spaces, progressively established through government
control of administration and markets, has marginalized the mobile
pastoral nomads who had hitherto been the masters of terrestrial com-
munications. Nowadays social change and economic opportunities are
predominantly found in the urban informal sector, where vulnerable
nomadic groups can regroup in petty trade and manifold service jobs.
These small time jobs constitute a safety net for supporting the subsis-
tence of many uprooted families.
AFAR. About 70 per cent (1.3 million) of the Afar people live in

Ethiopia. The figures are more approximate for the Afar living in the
32
eastern lowlands of Eritrea (c. 300,000) and in the north and west of
Djibouti (also c. 300,000, representing one third of Djibouti’s popu-
lation on three quarters of its territory). However, pastoralist people
are constantly moving across boundaries and cannot be captured by
statistics.
The Saho are linguistically and culturally related to the Afar, living
to the north-east of them, mainly in Eritrea. They mainly practise
transhumant cattle raising between the mountains and the coastal hin-
terland. Some of their subgroups who are in contact with Tigrinya-
speaking societies are Orthodox Christians, notably the Irob (of whom
there are c. 30,000 living in Ethiopia), who inhabit the contested area
of Badme along the Ethiopia-Eritrea border.
The Afar territory forms a wide triangle, made of barren and empty
lowlands, mainly inhabited on its fringes. The first edge of the triangle
is drawn by the coast of the Red Sea, from the Bori peninsula to the
bottom of the Gulf of Tadjourah. The second edge is limited by the
foothills of the escarpment of the plateaux of Tigray, Wollo and Shoa.
Being at a relatively cool altitude, these slopes offer more abundant
pasture for transhumant seasonal migrations. Clashes often occur
between pastoralists and mountain dwellers when they raid one anoth-
er’s herds in response to increased competition for land due to the gov-
ernment’s expansion of cultivated areas on land traditionally used for
seasonal grazing. Peaceful forms of exchange also exist in the form of
a series of markets established in intermediary zones and connected by
trade routes. Camel caravan trade used to be the link between the
mountain and sea edges of Afar land. Among exchanged commodities,
the extraction and trading of salt by the Afar was of vital importance
for highlanders. Afar camel herders have suffered from competition
provided by modern transport (first the Ethio-Djiboutian railway and
later roads) but they have profited from trafficking smuggled goods
and transporting illegal migrants seeking jobs in the Middle East.
The third edge of the Afar triangle is formed by a large strip of land
on the eastern banks of the Awash River, including its terminal inland
delta which ends in a series of lakes. The Awash and its non-permanent
tributaries (Kessem, Borkenna, Mille and Golina) provide pastures and
water holes to camel herds in the dry season on the route of the trans-
humant migrations to higher altitude areas. The vital relation of Afar
pastoralists to their environment, based on the availability of water
resources, has been seriously disrupted by the clearing of vast irrigated
33
farming lands all over the Awash basin, which has hindered access to
river banks, reduced water flows, and contaminated the rivers with pes-
ticides and fertilizers.42 Since the 1970s the vicinity of the Awash has
become a contested border zone, with Somali Issa having settled in sev-
eral spots of the riverine area. This Afar-Issa conflict is still one of the
contentious issues in the sub-region, with a cross-border regional
dimension involving the neighbouring states of Djibouti and Somalia.43
The Afar deeply resent the loss of extensive lands in their traditional
territories and are angry that the local balance of power has been upset
because of the military support Djibouti provides the Issa (who are
dominant in that state). On the other hand, Afar rebels in Djibouti have
sought to mobilize the Ethiopian Afar in their defence.
Afar society is organized along both genealogical and territorial
dimensions.44 Each Afar belongs to one of the many patrilineal clans
(kedo), which intermingle through links of kinship and pacts of alli-
ance. Clans and sub-clans have their own oral traditions. They bear in
their social fabric memories of a complex history of conflicts, natural
disasters, population movements, integration of migrant minorities and
incorporation of holy lineages of prestigious Arab ancestry. On the
other hand, the regulation of land rights, water use and trade is the pre-
rogative of authorities in charge of large territorial units (bado), usu-
ally referred to as sultanates. The largest and most powerful Afar sul-
tanate is Awsa, established in the oasis of the terminal delta of the
Awash River in the sixteenth century. The wealth derived from its agri-
cultural resources and strategic position enabled this sultanate to
extend its influence over all southern Afar lands. The northern inland
Afar territories adjacent to Tigray used to be under the authority of the
sultanates of Biru and Teru, and the sultanate of Goba’ad covered the
south-west territories. The coastal area was divided between the sultan-
ates of Beylul (north-east), Rahayta (central) and Tadjourah (or
Tagorri, south-west). Beyond clan and territorial divisions the majority
of Afar groups are divided into two moieties, the Reds (Asayamara)
and the Whites (Adoyamara), which used to be rival political coalitions
vying for the control of grazing lands along the Awash valley. Each tra-
ditional Afar polity, or sultanate, used to be headed by one of the two
moieties; neither can pretend to have exclusivity over land resources
and both are obligated to accommodate one another. This situation of
coexistence has led to intermarriages and admixtures that have made
the distinction between the two moieties very vague in some areas.
34
The Afar State is the only regional state within the Ethiopian federa-
tion where there are two political orders with very different bases of
legitimacy: the historic Awsa Sultanate still co-exists with the new
regional government, although their relationship is fraught with politi-
cal tension. Ultimately, the political viability of the Awsa Sultanate is
undermined by the competition with the regional government, based in
Semera. Initially the EPRDF forged amicable political ties with the sul-
tanate, which contributed to the regime change through the Afar Libera
tion Front (ALF). Upon his return from exile in 1991, the charismatic
Sultan Alimirah convened a conference of clan elders to create what
appears to be a “neo-traditional” regional government structure within
the new Afar Regional State under the leadership of the ALF. Threatened

by the emergence of a vibrant and autonomous centre of power and fail-

ing to co-opt the Awsa Sultanate, the EPRDF has sought to neutralize
the power of the Afar traditional authorities by grooming new political
elites dependent on the federal government. Since the mid-1990s, the
EPRDF has in fact succeeded in gradually replacing members of Sultan
Alimirah’s families by capitalizing on corruption scandals involving
members of the ALF’s leadership. To mark the transfer of regional polit-
ical power from the Sultanate to the new regional political leadership the
regional capital was shifted from Aissaita, the seat of the Sultanate, to a
newly built town at Semera. Unsurprisingly, this has generated political
tension between the traditional authorities and the federal government-
backed regional political leadership.
Politically marginalized since 1995, the Sultanate has, however,
shown signs of revival with the coronation of a new sultan, Hanfare
Alimirah, in November 2011. The high profile coronation ceremony,
attended by dignitaries and traditional authorities from as far as
Eritrea and Djibouti, has alerted the political elites within the regional
state of Afar to the possibility that this represents the emergence not
only of an alternative centre of political power but a very formidable
one. On the other hand, the event was represented by the leadership of
the Afar Regional State and the Ethiopian government media as a “cul-
tural affair”, reducing the new Sultan to the status of a mere “spiritual
leader of the Afar”. This is in sharp contrast to the Sultan’s self-repre-
sentation as the Afar’s new political voice. The massive turnout during
the coronation ceremony of Sultan Hanfare in 2011 was as much a
vote of no confidence in the regional government as an endorsement of
the historically legitimated alternative, the Awsa Sultanate.
35
SOMALI. The 4.5 million Somali Ethiopians are the third largest
Ethiopian nationality, Tigray being the fourth with an almost equal
number. They also represent around 30 per cent of the total Somali
population (10 million in Somalia and Somaliland, 1 million in Kenya,
1 million in Yemen, 500,000 in Djibouti).45 According to their clan
division, three main groups can be differentiated. The north of the
Somali Regional State, corresponding to the Shinile Zone bordering
Djibouti, is mainly populated by the Issa clan, who as we have seen are
dominant in Djibouti and compete with the Afar for the grazing areas
of the Awash valley. The central part of the Somali Regional State,
bordering Somaliland, is predominantly occupied by the Isaaq, who
are the main clan confederation in Somaliland. Issaq pastoralists’
access to the hinterland pastures of the highland area of the Haud in
Ethiopian territory has been a major historical challenge for the delim-
itation of the border and for the management of conflicts. A key aim
of the Ethiopian government in this region is the development of the
road corridor between Jigjiga, the capital of the Somali Regional State,
and the port of Berbera in Somaliland, which would offer an alterna-
tive to Djibouti for Ethiopian access to the sea.
Finally, to the southeast, the vast territory of Ogaden is named after
the Ogaden clans who are part of the Darod clan confederation, which
is dominant in southern Somalia. For the last four decades this terri-
tory has been characterized by chronic insecurity mainly due to fight-
ing between the Ogaden National Liberation Front (ONLF) and the
Ethiopian federal army, as well as sporadic intrusions by armed groups
from Somalia. The Ogaden basin holds significant reserves of gas and
crude oil that are being explored and may represent a major opportu-
nity for the Ethiopian and regional economies if sustainable agree-
ments can be found at regional and international levels to escape from
the present situation of constant turmoil.46
There is also a sizeable Bantu community in the Ogaden basin (the
Dobe and the Rheer Barre), which is distinguished by its status as a riv-
erine agrarian minority alongside a dominant pastoralist majority.
Paralleling the social cleavage between the Habesha and their Nilotic
neighbours, the social boundaries between the Somali and the Bantu
are drawn in the language of skin colour and phonotypical features,
with the former “red” (light skinned) and the latter “black”, as well as
in reference to the stigma associated with the Bantu’s experience of
slavery. The Bantu are also looked down on for their hair texture,
36
which the term Rheer Barre signifies (“people with kinky hair”).
Animated by the new ethno-federal political structure, which is partly
built on the project of ethno-cultural justice, the Somali Bantus, partic-
ularly the Dobe, have activated a separate political and social identity.
Circumventing the Somali regional government, which promotes the
“homogeneity” of the Somali Regional State, the Dobe directly
appealed to the House of Federation, the Ethiopian parliament’s sec-
ond chamber, for recognition as one of the country’s “Nations and
Nationalities” (Ethiopian parlance for its ethnic groups).
The vast majority of Ethiopian Somalis have not been fully inte-
grated into the Ethiopian national identity in their transition from “the
enemy nation” during the imperial and Derg periods to the rank of an
Ethiopian “nation” among other nations since the establishment of the
federal political order in 1991. As Tobias Hagmann, one of the lead-
ing scholars on the Ethiopian Somalis, puts it, “the slow and incom-
plete incorporation of the Somali Region into the Ethiopian nation-
state is an ongoing tale of the central government’s repetitive yet futile
attempts to establish a monopoly of violence by forceful and political
means”.47 Only a small elite of young Amharic-speaking urban Somali
have been assimilated into the national Ethiopian identity, and these
have committed to the ruling party in exchange for high administrative
positions. In recent years, however, an incipient reorientation of polit-
ical identity is observable among the Somalis, who are embracing an
Ethiopian national identity in return for a modicum of regional auton-
omy and new investment opportunities, which contrast with the disin-
centives of the Greater Somalia project, discredited by the state col-
lapse and protracted civil war in Mogadishu.
The mosaic of peoples in the Southern Nations, Nationalities,

and Peoples Regional State
Whereas the northern and eastern territories of Ethiopia are divided
between very extended and populous ethno-cultural groups, who are
differentiated by five major languages, the south-west quarter of the
country presents a radically different configuration, with more than
seventy languages officially spoken as well as a multitude of local dia-
lectal variations. The great diversity of societies of the south-west is
gathered under the institutional ceiling of the Southern Nations,
Nationalities, and Peoples Regional State (SNNPR), in which the
major groups have their own administrative zones.
37
To give some clarity to the structure of this mosaic, it is usual to

classify these societies along linguistic categories by distinguishing
Ethio-Semitic, Cushitic, Omotic and Nilotic speakers. Although these
categories and their sub-groups have no other purpose than to bear
witness to linguistic traits, anthropologists and historians tend to seek
common cultural and historic traits in societies whose languages
belong to the same family. The languages are taken to indicate the ori-
gins of the ancient societies from which these peoples descend. But eth-
nic unity goes beyond the simple frontiers of language. The complex
history of each of these societies is reflected in the multiple layers of
their social organizations. Ethnic groups are generally seen as defin-
able, institutional entities, as if they had always existed. They are in
fact the result of encounters between and amalgamations of popula-
tions from different places and of different statuses, and each resulting
identity is like a communal roof under which individuals from differ-
ent backgrounds have been gathered and sheltered.
An exception is made, however, for isolated groups of craft work-
ers and hunter-gatherers, who play an essential role in local economies
but are consigned to the social margins and assigned various statuses,
from impure outcastes to experts in rituals. Through their marginal
position they bind these societies together by forming a kind of trans-
ethnic social category that contributes to exchanges of material and
spiritual cultures.48
The peoples of the evergreen ensete gardens. The south-western high-

land regions of Ethiopia are known for their evergreen, neatly gardened
landscapes, displaying the image of relative prosperity and cushioned
from the famines that periodically touch the north of the country. This
has to do not only with the high rain levels these lands benefit from, but
also with the importance given by the societies that live there to the cul-
tivation of the false banana tree, or ensete. Once grown, this perennial
rhizome plant can tolerate irregular rainfall and can be harvested in
almost any season. Its edible parts are the corm and the false-stem,
which contain large amounts of starch. Its leaves and strong fibres are
used for packing, ropes and building materials. The dough made of its
pulp after fermentation has a rather low nutritional value, but it can be
stored for several months and covers basic needs during periods of food
shortage when other crops fail. Its high productivity allows it to be cul-
tivated in small areas and it can be associated with the intensive produc-
38
tion of vegetables, cereals and cash crops (coffee, khat, eucalyptus), as

well as animal husbandry, the latter activity producing manure for soil
fertilization. The productivity of home gardens varies according to alti-
tude and soil fertility, which can vary dramatically over short distances.
These characteristics ensure that these lands have high population den-
sities and the appearance of food abundance. But this stereotype, which
has prevailed for so long, is deceptive. In many neighbourhoods farm-
ing has become less productive because of population pressure, decreas-
ing plot sizes and ill-advised agrarian development policies that have led
to low productivity, unbearable levels of household debt, chronic pov-
erty and food insecurity.
GURAGE. The common appellation Gurage corresponds to a name

given by outsiders to the vague territory of a cluster of diversified pop-
ulations (about fifteen territorial groups, comprising nearly 2 million
people) who speak languages of the Ethio-Semitic family that relate
them to the northern Habesha societies. Their ancient origins, as
understood from mythological narratives, are linked with the histori-
cal expansions of the Christian kingdom since the early medieval era,
through waves of migrations that involved military formations, trad-
ing communities, missionaries and other kinds of population move-
ments prompted by warfare and natural disasters.49
In the course of their history the different Gurage groups have devel-
oped strong ties—through both peaceful exchange and conflict—with
neighbouring Cushitic and Omotic speaking communities, with whom
they share cultural habits and religious beliefs. Unlike the hierarchical
social organization of the northern Habesha, Gurage political struc-
tures rest on acephalous (“headless”) power relations between patri-
lineal descent groups or clans. Their disputes are resolved through
meetings of either clan assemblies or councils of elders, who deliberate
according to the rules of unwritten customary law.50 The interreligious
mixtures and the political divergences of Gurage societies show grad-
ual levels of differentiation involving internal dynamics and external
connections. The northern Kistane or Aymellel are predominantly
Orthodox Christians. Their ancient links with northern Habesha pol-
ities facilitated their integration into the modern Christian empire. The
central confederation of the “seven houses of Gurage” is an amalga-
mation of different clans who resisted absorption into the empire. The
eastern Gurage (Welane and Silte, before their estrangement from the
39
Gurage cluster) are predominantly Muslim and attached to wider

regional Islamic networks. Their resistance to Menelik’s conquest took
the form of an Islamic revivalist movement and a jihadist armed move-
ment led by Hassen Enjamo.
After the forced or voluntary integration of the Gurage societies into
the Ethiopian Empire, they migrated en masse to Addis Ababa, the
newly founded capital city, a relatively short distance of 200 kilome-
tres to the north-east of Gurage land. Gurage workers, particularly
from the Kistane area, became the labour force for the early urban
development of Addis Ababa, particularly in the construction and
transport industries. Their entrepreneurship gradually spread to com-
mercial activities. Gurage families still have a dominant position today
in the emporiums of Piazza and Mercato. This continuous flow of
migrant workers and businessmen for over a century has had a strong
social and economic impact on rural neighbourhoods, particularly
through the remittance of migrants’ earnings, which is reinvested in
rural development activities by self-help organizations.51
SILTE. For reasons of territorial and linguistic proximity the Silte

(population 1 million) have long been classified as Eastern-Gurages.
They are nearly all Muslims and conceive themselves as historically
and culturally linked to Harar. They have claimed to be an indepen-
dent ethnic identity, and this was granted in 2001 when a separate
administrative zone was set up for them after a referendum in which
they overwhelmingly voted for a separate identity.52
HADIYA and KAMBATA. The Hadiya (1.3 million) and Kambata

(630,000) are Cushitic speaking peoples whose lifestyle is quite similar
to that of the Gurage. The Hadiya are the remnants of a pre-sixteenth
century Muslim medieval state that ruled mixed populations over a
wide area covering a large part of today’s Arsi and Sidama territories.
The contemporary social structure of the Hadiya is characterized by
egalitarian relations between neighbourhoods defined on the lines of
patrilineal kinship.53 Traces of early Islam were found in their syncretic
cult (fandano), which disappeared after their conversion to Catholic
and Protestant missionary churches. The neighbouring Kambata
(including the Timbaro and Allaba groups) were linked in the pre-
sixteenth-century medieval past to the northern Christian kingdom and
were converted to Orthodox Christianity. They retained a stratified
40
social structure based on the distinction between clans of noblemen

and clans of commoners. Their ancient links with the Christian king-
dom were reactivated after the conquest by Menelik’s army, and the
Orthodox Church attempted to regain its foothold by removing local
syncretic cults. However, Catholic and Protestant churches established
since the 1930s attracted the majority of the population.
SIDAMA. The Cushitic-speaking Sidama (3 million people) represent

the most populous group in the SNNPR. Their mountainous territory

on the eastern slopes of the Rift Valley offers similar conditions as the
above-mentioned territories for intensive ensete-based agriculture.
Sidama farmers are major producers of coffee, which has remained the
main cash crop, in contrast to other groups which have abandoned cof-
fee for khat. Their social and political organization is multi-layered. A
trans-local authority is exercised by hereditary clan leaders who are in
charge of maintaining peace and prosperity through rituals and divina-
tory powers. Local affairs are managed by councils of elders belonging
to generational grades similar to those of the Oromo Gadaa system.54
Awassa, the capital city of the SNNPR, is also the seat of the Sidama
Zone’s administration. Since 2000 the question of its status has raised
an intense controversy that has degenerated into an ethnic conflict.
Awassa is located in Sidama territory on the shores of a lake bearing
the same name.55 Since it has become the regional capital under the
federal regime it has seen a rapid growth from 70,000 dwellers in 1994
to 160,000 in 2007. This development has been enhanced by activities
linked to the coffee market and by the construction of resorts, recre-
ational sites and luxury villas on the lakeside. The federal authorities
have proposed to give Awassa the status of chartered federal city, like
Addis Ababa and Dire Dawa, since it has become cosmopolitan by
attracting workers and investors from Welayta, Oromiya and neigh-
bouring areas. This project was strongly rejected by the Sidama who
held several protests that were severely repressed. Behind the confron-
tation between ethno-nationalist and federal perspectives, the main
reasons for the disagreement are economic. Rural land belonging to
Sidama lineages has been progressively transformed into high-value
urban land, generating considerable profits. With a special administra-
tion, the management of the city and its flourishing business would be
placed under the direct control of the government. It would also
involve moving the Sidama zonal administration to another city and
removing Sidama politicians and landowners from Awassa’s affairs.
41
KONSO, GEDEO and BURJI. These groups (respectively numbering

250,000, 1 million and 70,000) are highland dwelling, Cushitic speak-
ing societies that practice intensive agriculture. Their political system
shares many common features with that of the Oromo, with a Gadaa-
like generation-grading system being associated with the politico-ritual
roles of clan chiefs.56 The Konso are known in particular for their carv-
ings on wood poles representing their heroic ancestors (waka). They
do not cultivate ensete, but they practice irrigated agriculture on ter-
raced fields. They cultivate the moringa tree, also known as the cab-
bage-tree; its boiled leaves constitute the staple food.57
OMETO (Welayta, Gamo, Gofa and Dawro). The meta-category of

Ometo (subsuming a population of c. 3.7 million) includes various
societies and their fragmented subgroups, who speak linguistic variants
of the northern group within the family of Omotic languages.58 In the
1990s the federal authorities attempted to unify all Ometo groups into
a single administrative unit through the instrument of a common arti-
ficial language called We-ga-go-da (an abbreviation of the four main
groups). This governmental initiative fell through on account of the
reawakening of regional particularisms.
The WELAYTA (1.7 million people) were in the past the political core
of this mountainous and fertile region overlooking the great lakes of
the Rift Valley. It was the seat of a powerful kingdom that emerged in
the thirteenth century, whose hierarchical and stratified power struc-
ture departed from the model of divine kingship combined with com-
munal assemblies that was dominant in the other Ometo societies.59
This populated and wealthy state developed trade relations with the
northern Habesha Christian kingdom. In the eighteenth century power
was taken over by a dynasty of kings who had migrated from Tigray.
The kingdom was converted to Orthodox Christianity and undertook
expansionist policies against its neighbours.
Despite its ancient links and religious affinities with the northern
Christian kingdom, the king of Welayta, whose name was Tona,
refused to acknowledge Menelik II’s supremacy and pay him a heavy
tribute. The consequence was the violent military conquest of Welayta
by Shoan armies in 1894.60 The monarchical institutions were destroyed
and replaced by imperial appointees. The region, renowned for its agri-
cultural wealth, became the main supplier of grain and meat for the
42
imperial court in Addis Ababa. This marked the beginning of Welayta’s

economic decline, evident nowadays in the problems of land scarcity,
soil depletion, food insecurity and chronic poverty. This decline is the
consequence of imperial overexploitation, which continued through
agricultural development programs based on the erroneous assumption
that the legendary fertility of the land could not be exhausted.61 The
social structure of Welayta society has retained some remnants of the
ancient kingdom in the form of stratified relations between patrilineal
clans. Communal activities are dominated by Christian churches, in
particular Pentecostal denominations that gave rise to self-made reli-
gious entrepreneurs who have saturated the spiritual market.
The GAMO, GOFA, and DAWRO societies (respectively 1.1 million,

0.4 million and 0.6 million people) that complete the Ometo grouping
live to the south-west and west of Welayta. Their social structure is less
stratified than the Welayta’s. The Gamo are divided into about forty
autonomous territorial and political entities (dere), each headed by a sac-
rificer-king (kao) who is the hereditary descendant of the founding hero
of the locality. Beside this ritual charge, the maintenance of social order
is the responsibility of democratic assemblies of elders and citizens.62 The
Gamo used to be predominantly Orthodox Christians, with inclusion of
syncretic beliefs in local spirits. However, they have increasingly come
under the influence of Protestant churches from Welayta.
KEFA. The Omotic speaking Kefa people (c. 1 million) and Shekacho
people (c. 100,000) live further west in a mountainous area of dense
forests, crossed by many rivers and with fertile, abundantly watered
soils. These physical conditions have favoured rich and varied agro-
pastoral activities and agro-forestry that stimulated commercial activ-
ities. The Kefa’s main export products were ivory, coffee, civet musk,
cardamom and slaves. The ancient Kingdom of Kefa was founded in
the fourteenth century and became a mighty centralized state in the
seventeenth century, after resisting the Oromo expansion.63 This south-
ern kingdom established an alliance with the northern Habesha king-
dom. The ruling elite were converted to Orthodox Christianity, but
lower classes continued their cults to local clan spirits (eqqo). Kefa was
also linked to the Sudanese trans-Saharan trade routes, from which has
come a significant number of Muslim merchant families. The aristoc-
racy of Kefa was composed of clans possessing land rights linked to
43
official functions. It was dominated by the Minjo clan from which the
king was chosen. Most of the state functions were linked to a precise
clan. This structure seems to have enabled the conservation of monar-
chical institutions in the long term. In 1897, the conquest of Kefa by the
armies of Menelik put an end to the existence of this kingdom. The
imperial government largely relied, however, on the ancient structures.
The appointed governors of Kefa were assisted by local notables who
formed a kind of indirect government and retained land rights on the
formerly royal lands in the form of rist (inheritable land right). This soci-
ety, quite isolated from the rest of the country, preserved a certain auton-
omy in the communal management of its land and forest resources.
Peoples of the south-western borders: ancestors’ blessings vs.

development prophecies
On the south-western borders of Ethiopia live several culturally and linguis-
tically diverse peoples, who nevertheless share similar conditions of exis-
tence either because of their shared harsh environment or their common
subaltern status, which has seen them ostracised—or, at best, ignored and
neglected—since the conquest of their territories by the armies of Menelik
at the end of the nineteenth century.64
In the current administrative division of the SNNPR the peoples of

the south-western margins live in the South Omo Zone (575,000 inhab-
itants in 2007) and the Bench Maji Zone (650,000 inhabitants). The
main groups living in the South Omo Zone are: MAALE (100,000);
ARI (290,000); HAMER (50,000 including Banna, Bashada and Karo);
TSAMAI (20,000); NYANGATOM (25,000); DASSANECH (50,000);
MURSI (8,000); and BODI (7,000).65 The main groups in the Bench
Maji Zone are: BENCH (formerly known as Gimira, 300,000); ME’EN
(140,000); DIZI (35,000); SURMA (or Suri, 30,000).66
Despite the diversity of languages and social habits that differentiate
them, the traditional societies of south-west Ethiopia have similar
social structures and ritual processes. Their particularities have been
described by ethnographers since the second half of the twentieth cen-
tury. Each local identity has been shaped and transformed by processes
of inter-ethnic relations and conflicts over time.67 Since each of these
societies cannot be separately presented here, we will underline some
common aspects of their politico-ritual language as well as mentioning
in passing some of the ways in which they express their distinctness.
44
Besides pastoralism and agriculture, most of these societies rely on subsis-

tence activities such as hunting and gathering, bee keeping, and fishing,
depending on ecological variations between the hot and arid lowlands and
the cooler, watered highlands. Although punished by the government, pil-
lages, raids and vendettas have remained common and are effective ways of
rapidly amassing cattle wealth. Nevertheless, agricultural activities remain
the first means of subsistence, cattle being mostly reserved for rituals.
The continuity of a community from generation to generation is

asserted through the collective memory of its ancestors,
who settled a given territory and imposed their domination at a precise time,
fixed as time zero in mythological narratives. Power is transmitted either
genealogically or generationally, to ensure the perpetuation and extension
of the initial political architecture. The founding ancestors represent the ori-
gin of society and the source of life and fertility. Their descendants (through
genealogical or generational lines) incarnate in a fashion these first beings
and they have a role in the maintenance of land fertility, animal reproduc-
tion and communal prosperity. To benefit from the flow of “fertilizing
blessings” emanating from ancestors, the junior members show their readi-
ness to take over responsibilities by giving gifts to the seniors.
Since their incorporation into the political framework within

Ethiopian national boundaries, the peoples of the south-western mar-
gins have been, like the other Ethiopian peripheral peoples, affected by
the gradual introduction of globalizing factors. Protestant missionary
ventures introduced literate education, new religious beliefs and indi-
vidual aspirations. Ethiopian military garrisons brought the use of the
national currency and the consumption of strong alcohol. Civil wars
brought the AK-47, replacing spears as instruments of self-protection
and symbols of virility.
The last decade saw a sudden speeding up of infrastructure invest-
ments that have changed the physiognomy of these barren lands. Until
the end of the twentieth century, several days of difficult driving on
bumpy, muddy, broken roads and tracks were necessary to reach the
South Omo Zone. Since 2010 Addis Ababa can be reached from the
South Sudan border in one day on new asphalt roads. The path for fur-
ther development is open. The implementation of large-scale irrigated
agricultural projects by the Ethiopian government (which champions
the developmental state model and encourages foreign companies to
invest in the lower Omo valley) has already cleared significant portions
of cultivable lands, grazing areas and settlements of indigenous com-
munities. In the South Omo Zone alone more than 250,000 hectares
45
of land are apportioned to the state-owned sugar plantation, and the

plan is to construct six of the ten envisaged sugar factories during the
current phase of the Growth and Transformation Plan (2010–2015).
These new investments deprive local communities of most of their
prime grazing lands. They are also threatening the Pliocene/Pleistocene
geological formations of the lower valley of the Omo River, which is
on the World Heritage List for its hominid fossil sites. Moreover, the
construction of massive hydroelectric dams on the upper course of the
Omo River has affected the water flow, undermining the flood reces-
sion agriculture of populations living downstream. These develop-
ments also create new opportunities and jobs that attract migrant
workers from the other parts of the country.
These rapid economic transformations are in line with a historical
process of conquest, exploitation and acculturation that has moulded
the Ethiopian national sphere and consciousness for centuries. It is too
early, however, to predict the long-term social consequences of recent
development projects—which do not appear to be conceived on sus-
tainable grounds—on environments that are already particularly harsh.
They may bring more material satisfaction and reduce poverty for some
time. However, they may become an additional layer in the history of
disasters that is already recorded in the strata of this land, the land
from which mankind originated. For the time being, observers have
noted the decline of ancient indigenous cultures, which are artificially
maintained through the commercialization of ritual performances, tra-
ditional dress and body ornamentation as tourist attractions.68
Peoples of the western borders

Ethiopia and the two Sudans share a very long border (c. 700 km with
Sudan, and c. 900 km with South Sudan). This long strip of peripheral
lowlands was neglected because of its remoteness, its insecurity due to
Sudan’s civil wars, and colonial treaties that prohibited any kind of
investment along the tributaries of the Nile in Ethiopian territory.
These hindrances have gradually retreated: new roads are being built,
the independence of South Sudan has gone some way to reducing insta-
bility, and the Ethiopian government has made bold announcements of
its ambition to carry out development on a regional scale. It plans to
take its share of the hydraulic resource of the Nile basin though large-
scale investments in agriculture and the construction of the Grand
46
Ethiopian Renaissance Dam on the Blue Nile. The following descrip-

tions of the social organization of the Ethiopian western frontier soci-
eties correspond more to historic rather than to current configurations,
which are changing rapidly.69
The peoples of the Gambella Regional State. The Nuer, self-named the
Naath (who number c. 150,000 in Ethiopia, and c. 1.7 million in South
Sudan), and the Anuak (c. 90,000 in Ethiopia; c. 90,000 in South
Sudan) are the two main ethnic groups of the Gambella Regional State
(which had c. 310,000 inhabitants in 2007). They live in lowland ter-
ritories situated on both sides of the Ethiopia-South Sudan border.
NUER. Since the second half of the nineteenth century the Nuer have
expanded east in the direction of Gambella from their origins in the
Upper Nile region of South Sudan, at the expense of first the Dinka
and then the Anuak, both of whom have lost extensive territory to the
Nuer. By the beginning of the twentieth century the Nuer had advanced
as far east as Itang, which became the frontier between the Anuak and
the Nuer—until recently when the demography tipped in favour of the
latter. Nuer territorial expansion was accomplished as much through
violence as through a dynamic system of assimilation of the van-
quished and instrumental inter-marriage practices. The territory is
often flooded during the rainy season, as the Akobo and Baro Rivers
and their tributaries (which merge to form the Sobat River, which joins
the White Nile in South Sudan) collect a lot of water and alluvial soil
from the nearby highlands.
The Nuer are predominantly cattle-herders. They also cultivate
maize, sorghum and tobacco on the flooded shores of lakes and rivers
in the rainy season. The dry season villages are situated near rivers or
waterholes; those of the rainy season are set at elevations spared by the
floods. After the major ethnographic works published by Edward
Evans-Pritchard (1940, 1956), the Nuer became the paradigm of the
acephalous segmentary society. Disputes are regulated and contained
by a principle of balanced opposition between lineages, understood as
segments within larger tribes that do not depend on centralized leader-
ship. But if we follow Douglas Johnson (1994), “heads” were in fact
numerous in Nuer society, although they had no power or political
authority, only a ritual and mediating role. This society was decapi-
tated by the British colonial administration in order to hinder some
Nuer spiritual leaders’ resistance to external rule.70
47
Occupying the two border districts of Jikaw and Akobo, the Nuer
in Gambella have for a long time been politically and culturally ori-
ented to South Sudan, either through military mobilization by the
Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) or through taking alternative
citizenship by joining South Sudanese refugee camps in order to gain
access to basic social services such as education. The creation of the
Gambella Regional State as one of the constitutive parts of the Federal
Democratic Republic of Ethiopia has induced a reorientation of Nuer
political identity: there is a new desire to “become Ethiopian”. The
1994 national census revealed that the Nuer had transformed from an
insecure minority in regional politics into the largest ethnic group, con-
stituting 40 per cent of the regional population, by far outnumbering
their main contenders, the Anuak, who constituted only 25 per cent;
this demographic gap was even more pronounced in the 2007 census,
according to which the Nuer now constitute 47 per cent and the Anuak
21 per cent. The new political structure and the radical changes in the
demography of the region have put pressure on the Anuak, the other
major contender in regional politics.
ANUAK. Unlike the Nuer and the wider Nilotic society, the Anuak
possess few cattle and mainly depend on agriculture, fishing and gath-
ering. Traditionally Anuak society was structured into two parallel
forms of political organization. On the one hand, there were village
heads called kwari (singular kwaro), who were entrusted with ensur-
ing a balance between rival factions. On the other hand, there was a
sacred monarch, drawn from one of two noble lineages known as
nyiye (singular nyiya). The occupation of these positions and the pos-
session of the emblems that are associated with them were objects of
constant struggles which created a permanent cycle of overthrowing
and accession to power, a form of political organization which Evans-
Pritchard called ritual kingship.71 These traditional social organizations
have been deeply transformed by the effects of imperial conquest, the
Derg’s so-called cultural revolution, missionary works, civil wars, the
displacement of refugees from Sudan, the resettlement of hunger
stricken peasants from central Ethiopia, SPLA training camps, and
models of education brought by NGOs.72 New global economic pro-
cesses such as the commencement of large scale commercial agriculture
by foreign investors—most of which is in traditional Anuak territo-
ries—and the attendant sense of economic exclusion and relative depri-
vation are further provoking their ethnic sensibility.
48
The Anuak have responded to the externally induced socio-political

and economic decline with various forms of resistance, which crystal-
lized in the establishment of the Gambella People’s Liberation
Movement (GPLM) in the 1980s. Allied with the EPRDF and the OLF,
which operated from bases in the Sudan, and claiming to represent
Anuak ethnic interests, the GPLM took control over the newly created
Gambella Regional State in the 1990s. Operating with the memory of
historic territorial losses, the GPLM sought to contain Nuer territorial
and cultural expansion, which has engendered talk of the Anuak peo-
ple’s extinction. Anuak political elites have also activated a political
ownership claim over the rather multi-ethnic Gambella Regional State.
To offset the Nuer’s narrative of political entitlement based on their
demographic strength, the Anuak have advanced historical justifica-
tions for their power claim, presenting the Nuer to the Ethiopian state
as “outsiders” and “refugees”. This has supplied them with the pow-
erful political tool of framing local ethnic interests in national terms.
These conflicting political narratives and the changing state of alli-
ances between the federal government/EPRDF and the Anuak and
Nuer peoples have severely undermined the evolution of a cohesive
regional political community, which could have better promoted
regional interests in negotiations with the federal government. With a
fragmented and weak political voice, Gambella has been thrust to the
forefront of the so-called “land-grabbing” phenomena: local commu-
nities have lost extensive areas of prime land to transnational compa-
nies whose weak sense of corporate social responsibility is evident in
their perpetual encroachment into areas way beyond those designated
for investment. This state of affairs has created a very hostile relation-
ship between the companies and local communities, a hostility which
has already started erupting into deadly confrontations.
MAJANG. In the forest belt to the east of the Gambella Region live
the Majang, who speak Koman (which is probably of the Nilo-Saharan
language family).73 With a population of c. 15,000, the Majang, also
called the forest people, have been marginalized by their much larger
and more powerful neighbours, including the Anuak and the highland-
ers who encroach into their forestlands. Resorting to continuous
mobility as a strategy for coping with such encroachments, the Majang
have recently acted along the lines of “if you can’t beat them, join
them”. The spread of commercial farms—first government coffee plan-
49
tations, then the farms of highlanders migrating away from their less
resource-endowed northern highlands—has created a new land market
which some members of the Majang society have sought to tap into by
leasing or de facto selling their communally owned forestland.
However, this has led to the pauperization of the Majang and the
looming environmental disaster of the massive deforestation of the
Majang forest, part of south-west Ethiopia’s dwindling tropical rain-
forest. The potential problems that this might cause are added to by
the fact that the major rivers of the Gambella region, which are tribu-
taries of the White Nile, have their source in the multitude of streams
in the forest.
Peoples of the Beni Shangul-Gumuz Regional State. The Berta (c.

200,000 people) and the Gumuz (c. 180,000 people) live on both sides
of Ethiopia’s border with Sudan. They are situated to the south of the
Blue Nile, with the exception of certain Gumuz communities that still
occupy the northern shores of this river.
BERTA. The Berta are also known by the territorial name of Bela
Shangul, which refers to a sacred stone symbolizing their old political-
religious organization.74 The Sudanese Arabic name for them is
Jabalawin, “the people of the mountain”. After their incorporation
into the Funj Sultanate of Sennar in the eighteenth century,75 the
Berta’s land was conquered and administered by the Turco-Egyptians,
and it was finally annexed to the Ethiopian Empire in 1898, under the
supervision of Ras Makonnen.76 The area was coveted by the Ethiopians
for its gold, its slaves and the importation of goods smuggled through
the Sudan. However, like Gambella, this area was neglected by the cen-
tral authorities in the twentieth century, and was exposed to conflicts
and humanitarian crises. The forced settlement of farmers from central
Ethiopia modified the profile of the population and was a first step
towards new agricultural policies. As with their counterparts the
Anuak in the neighbouring Gambella region, the Berta’s protests
against their socio-political decline crystallized in the formation of a
liberation movement in the 1980s, the Benishangul People Liberation
Movement (BPLM). Also allied with the EPRDF and the OLF, and
claiming to represent the Berta people’s interests in regional politics,
the BPLM took control over the newly created Benishangul-Gumuz
Regional State. However, the BPLM’s political power was short-lived
50
as it became entangled with the Horn of Africa’s geopolitics in the

mid-1990s. The Berta, being Muslims and living on the Sudan-Ethiopia
border, were susceptible to the political Islam agenda of the Sudanese
National Islamic Front (NIF). The NIF in fact penetrated the BPLM in
order to use it as a conduit for spreading political Islam to Muslim-
inhabited areas of Ethiopia and beyond. The BPLM thus pressed for
the adoption of Arabic as a regional language of government and
sought increased self-determination, provoking the federal government
to counter its political power and influence by favouring the Berta’s
neighbour, the Gumuz.
GUMUZ. Unlike the Berta, the Gumuz have long interacted with the
northern highland Habesha society, for whom they historically consti-
tuted “internal others”, and who knew them by the pejorative term
“Shanqila”. They “inhabit an area that extends from Metemma south-
wards through Gondar, Gojjam/Metekel, and across the [Blue Nile] up
to the Didessa valley in Wollega, western Ethiopia. Linguistically, they
belong to the Koman group of the Central-Sudanic branch in the Nilo-
Saharan language family”.77
Since the 1980s a government sponsored resettlement program has
forced or encouraged thousands of northern highlanders to encroach on
the land which the Gumuz use for shifting cultivation. The Gumuz area
has attracted greater interest from central government and investors
since construction of the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam began at
Guba, a Gumuz village near the Sudan border. This has been followed
by the explosion of large scale agriculture which has appropriated a
large tract of prime Gumuz land without compensation or measures to
protect Gumuz economic and social interests. Like neighbouring
Gambella, the Benishangul-Gumuz Regional State is conflict-ridden and
lacks a cohesive political voice that could have better defended regional
interests vis-à-vis the federal government and corporate investors.
Ethiopians on the move: internal and international migrations

Since ancient times the human geography of the Horn of Africa has
been continuously reshaped by population movements along various
routes and on various scales, from individual wanderings to mass
migrations. In some cases migrations were voluntary (for example, in
the case of pilgrims, students and traders), but more frequently peoples
51
were compelled to move by such things as warfare, slave raiding and

natural disasters.78
In the recent history of Ethiopia the expansion of the Christian
empire in the second half of the nineteenth century led to significant
shifts of populations from the north into the conquered territories of
the south. Soldiers became settlers: they were given land rights on royal
estates and were in charge of controlling the subjugated local popula-
tions. Garrisons were converted into urban centres, where the central
administration established its representation. Merchants took hold of
urban markets that were linked to nation-wide trading networks based
on cash. Local populations were thereby trapped into administrative
frameworks made to control and tax them. The aggravation of rural
poverty, caused by excessive fiscal pressure, land scarcity and deterio-
rating ecological conditions, exacerbated the need to move, but there
were few job opportunities for migrant workers. The construction of
Addis Ababa and its expansion absorbed a considerable number of
migrants. Apart from the capital city and some coffee, sugar cane and
cotton plantations, the development of modern economic activities and
the rate of urbanization were too slow to induce and sustain large
labour migrations.
In the last quarter of the twentieth century, under both the Derg and
the federal government, policies of resettlement were implemented to
resolve the problem of land scarcity. Several hundred thousand people
were encouraged or forced to move from overcrowded and ecologically
fragile areas to less populated (though not empty) cultivable lands.79
The Derg’s command economy policies also introduced new models of
urban settlement that were followed up in a more liberal fashion by the
federal regime, leading to the acceleration of migration from rural to
urban areas. Since the end of the 1990s all regions have been impacted
by fast urban growth.
Before the last quarter of the twentieth century few Ethiopians trav-
elled abroad voluntarily. The main reasons for international travel
were trade, pilgrimage, study and diplomacy. But there is a long his-
tory of forced emigration of Ethiopians who, since antiquity, have been
enslaved and sold abroad, in particular to the Middle East and India.80
Until the end of the nineteenth century the profits generated by the
enslavement of war prisoners and the civil populations of conquered
areas were a strong incentive for the expansion of the Christian empire
and had enriched its “trading partners” in neighbouring kingdoms.
52
The political economy of slave raiding was slowly curbed at the end of
the nineteenth century because of international pressure.
As seen above, nation building and modernization agendas progres-
sively introduced new dynamics of population movement. In this con-
text international migration was marginal. In fact Ethiopia attracted
small communities of immigrants, such as Armenians, Greeks and
Yemenis, who were instrumental in the development of petty industries
and trade. With the aim of developing the country and preserving its
independence, the imperial authorities sent abroad a few hand-picked
students who were charged with acquiring and bringing back modern
intellectual and technical skills.81 Most of them went to Europe or
North America. After graduating many returned to their motherland
where they were given high positions. The Ethiopian Revolution of
1974 and the fall of the imperial regime forced most such emigrants to
stay abroad indefinitely and thereby become exiles. In 1977–8 the
number of exiles increased as militants from opposition parties fled the
Red Terror—the military regime’s campaign of mass killings and tor-
ture. In the 1980s civil war and severe droughts led several hundred
thousand vulnerable people to seek refuge in relief camps either else-
where in Ethiopia or in Sudan. (Eritreans fleeing the Eritrean War of
Independence since the 1960s had already experienced life in Sudanese
refugee camps for the last two decades.) From Sudan, many Ethiopians
and Eritreans sought asylum in Europe or North America, particularly
after the Refugee Act of 1980 allowed Ethiopian and Eritrean immi-
grants into the United States. A particular consequence of the human-
itarian crisis of the 1980s was the migration of almost the entire Beta
Israel people to Israel.
After the fall of the Derg the borders were opened and more freedom
of movement was granted to those Ethiopians who had sufficient
resources to travel abroad. This gave a further impetus to migration.
Some supporters and cadres of the Derg left the country for political
reasons, but the majority of migrants sought jobs and new lives, being
inspired by the success stories of fellow citizens who had previously
resettled abroad. Since 2000 the number of Ethiopians leaving the
country illegally has ballooned. Many try to reach Arab countries via
Djibouti and Yemen, while thousands more head for Europe, Israel or
South Africa, crossing deserts and seas by placing their lives in the
hands of people-smugglers.
The successive waves of emigration have formed the layers of a
worldwide Ethiopian diaspora that also includes a large number of
53
descendants of Ethiopian-born migrants.82 There is no accurate esti-

mate of the size of this diaspora. The most important communities of
Ethiopian migrants and their descendants are in North America,
where they may reach as many as 500,000 people. Their concentra-
tion is particularly high in Washington DC and its vicinity, where they
may number 250,000. There are also large numbers of Ethio-
Americans in Los Angeles, New York, Toronto and many other North
American cities. In Europe, the largest Ethiopian diaspora communi-
ties are mainly in Germany, Sweden, Britain and Italy. The migration
of Ethiopian workers into Arab countries has significantly increased
in the past ten years, particularly for female domestic workers. Their
total number in the Middle East approaches 500,000 (around 200,000
in Saudi Arabia and 60,000 in Lebanon, and many are also in the
Gulf Arab states and Turkey).83 The worldwide diaspora perhaps
numbers nearly 1.5 million.
Their financial resources, education, and experience of different
kinds of jobs and ways of life, and the influential positions some of
them occupy in international institutions and in the networks of the
global economy, all mean that members of the diaspora have begun to
play an increasingly important role in Ethiopia itself. Remittances
(money transferred by migrants to their families at home) have become
a vital source of currency for the Ethiopian economy and a powerful
means of alleviating poverty.84 The Ethiopian diaspora is also actively
engaged in Ethiopian politics. Towards that end they maintain a very
strong presence in cyber space, using social media to influence the
political process at home. Many Ethiopian opposition parties have a
diasporic constituency.85 Besides money and politics, the diaspora also
convey new cultural models and sets of values, which have modified
the aspirations and worldviews of Ethiopia’s youth. Furthermore,
Ethiopians abroad are very proud of their roots and they actively pro-
mote the diverse Ethiopian cultures, in particular through food and
music, in their countries of residence.
The Ethiopian government has taken measures to facilitate the
return of Ethiopians settled abroad. One objective is to reverse the
“brain drain” of the most educated and talented; the other is to attract
investment from the most wealthy, so that they can contribute to the
strategy for the economic growth and social transformation of the
country. To this end, the government has issued a “yellow card” for
the diaspora, which allows them to maintain de facto “dual citizen-
54
ship”. However, exposure to the political and economic standards of

Western countries has accustomed Ethiopian emigrants to feel suspi-
cious towards Ethiopia’s bureaucracy, and to express freely their crit-
icisms and frustrations in ways that may appear disconnected from the
structure of the public sphere in Ethiopia today.
Conclusion
This chapter has endeavoured to introduce Ethiopia’s diversity of

regional settings by describing some of the various ethnic identities that
compose the cultural fabric of the contemporary federal state. For each
regional group and sub-group presented, our intention was to show
that local specificities must be understood as results of historical inter-
actions, forms of exchange and conflicts that have taken place over
centuries. All Ethiopian ethnic groups have their own linguistic and
cultural characteristics. They also share many features with their neigh-
bours and with more distant societies as well. These intercultural con-
tacts are deeply embedded in social structures and collective memories.
In other words, the slogan of “unity in diversity” should be remem-
bered while the many peoples, nations and nationalities of Ethiopia
embark on the process of radically transforming their economic activ-
ities and lifestyles.
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62
2
THE ETHIOPIAN ORTHODOX TEWAHEDO

CHURCH (EOTC) AND THE CHALLENGES
OF MODERNITY
Stéphane Ancel and Éloi Ficquet
Orthodox Christians today represent about half of the Ethiopian pop-

ulation. They are concentrated in the north-west but are also widely
disseminated throughout the urban networks of the country. For cen-
turies, the Christian Orthodox Tewahedo Church of Ethiopia was con-
sidered the dominant framework through which Ethiopia could be
understood. A true pillar of Ethiopian history, from the fourth century
AD the Church reinforced its territorial basis through a dense net-

work of parishes, by providing the evolving Christian nation with

powerful symbolic and ideological frames, and by helping it to spread

out in the region. By forming links with other Christian powers, the
Kingdom of Ethiopia and its Church defined themselves in a universal
perspective on theological and eschatological grounds. At the end of
the nineteenth century, the Church was instrumental in unifying the
kingdom and its dependencies around a common Christian identity.
Questions relating to the spiritual and temporal powers of the Church
63
were central to its transformation as it was driven into modernity by

the royal institution.
Terminological outline
The first problem that emerges in the study of the Ethiopian Church is
that of its denomination. There exists today an official name, the
“Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church”, used in this article.
Examination of terminology can serve as an introduction to the three
constitutive aspects of the Church: the community, the dogma, and its
place within Christianity.
Ethiopian Christians conceive of themselves as a beta-kristian
(“house of Christians”, or “church” in the Ge’ez language), by which
they mean a community that gathers around a building at the centre of
a sacred geography. Each church building owes its sacredness to the
fact that it keeps a tabot (a wooden or stone replica of the Ark of the
Covenant); the Ethiopian national myth locates the real Ark in Axum,
the old capital of the kingdom, regarded as the site of the establish-
ment of the first church. While throughout its long history the
Ethiopian Church was content to refer to itself simply as a betakris-
tian, the establishment of relations with other churches and the emer-
gence of internal theological dissent pushed it to find a more precise
description. Having followed the Coptic Church in its rejection of the
conclusions of the Council of Chalcedon (451 AD), the Ethiopian
Church was included among the Monophysite churches, which consid-
ered Christ to have a purely divine and non-human nature. Challenging
the Council’s classification, the Ethiopian Church began using the
Ge’ez adjective tewahedo to define its position within the Christological
debate. The meaning of this adjective is not, however, devoid of ambi-
guity, since it oscillates between the notion of the “union” of the
natures of Christ and that of the “unity” of the Church.
The adjective “Orthodox” refers rather ambiguously to the position
of the Ethiopian Church within Christianity. It is neither Catholic nor
Protestant, and has no theological affiliation to the Slavic or Greek
Orthodoxies. Because of its vaguely eastern geographic situation, the
appearance of its rites and its being restrained to a national sphere, the
Ethiopian Church was classified as “Orthodox” on the basis of a wide
definition of the term. This in turn allowed for recent rapprochements,
notably with the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople.
64
THE ETHIOPIAN ORTHODOX TEWAHEDO CHURCH
Lastly, the Ethiopian Church is Ethiopian. A deep-rooted ideologi-

cal construction, whose history will not be developed here, underlies
this label. Coined by Greek geographers, the toponym “Ethiopia”
referred to a sacred territory after various references to it in the Old
and New Testaments. It was later given new sacredness with the mis-
sion that Ethiopians assumed to preserve the Ark of the Covenant.
Religious authority under the Ethiopian monarchy

Before tracing the evolution of the Church within the history of the
construction of the contemporary Ethiopian nation, it is crucial to
describe the hierarchical higher ranks of the clergy.
Since its foundation, the leadership of the Ethiopian Church was
divided between two figures: a foreigner, the Egyptian Metropolitan
bishop or Abun, and a priestking, the King of Kings. Neither could claim
to exert full religious authority since, in the eyes of the kingdom’s eccle-
siastics, the King was always suspected of being involved with political
interests and the bishop represented a distant hierarchy subject to
Egypt’s Islamic authorities. Local responses to this ambiguous situation
generated a decentralized organization founded on monastic networks.
The Coptic Patriarch. In theory, the highest authority of the Ethiopian

Church was the Coptic Patriarch of Alexandria. Since the consecration
of Saint Frumentius as the first Metropolitan bishop of Ethiopia by
Saint Athanasius around the beginning of the fourth century AD, the
bishop of Ethiopia—or Abun—had to be selected from among
Egyptian monks and consecrated by the patriarch. Thus, upon the
death of each Metropolitan bishop, the Ethiopian kings had to send
ambassadors to Egypt with valuable gifts to ensure not only that the
patriarch elevated a monk to the episcopal see and sent him to
Ethiopia, but also, from the seventh century, that the transaction was
endorsed by the Egyptian Muslim authorities.
It would be erroneous, however, to consider the patriarch the de
facto head of the Ethiopian Church. He rarely engaged with the
Ethiopian powers, and when he did it was usually to give his support
to his representative if the latter encountered difficulties when taking
office. Not until the middle of the nineteenth century did the patriarch
travel in person to the distant diocese. His real powers were excommu-
nication and potential refusal to designate an Abun. These powers
65
were used rarely and only in the event of a profound disagreement

with the Ethiopian monarchy. The Coptic Church could not afford to
lose Ethiopia’s support in the face of Egypt’s Muslim authorities.
The Metropolitan bishop. The Metropolitan bishop was in charge of

the direction and organization of the Ethiopian Church. Named abun
in Ge’ez, or “our father”, the bishop was the representative of the
Patriarch of Alexandria in Ethiopia. He had few prerogatives, but they
were vital to the functioning of the Church. His sacramental role was
indispensable: he was the only individual allowed to consecrate kings,
ordain the kingdom’s priests, and consecrate tabots. In the doctrinal
sphere, as the guarantor of the Alexandrine faith, he had the power of
excommunication.1
The bishopric, compulsorily occupied by an Egyptian, could remain
vacant for a long time. This was a source of anxiety for the Church.
But the urgency that it created also provoked a dynamic of perpetual
renewal, preventing the sclerosis of the system. And through this inter-
mittent but consistent link to Egypt, which was enhanced by pilgrimages
to Jerusalem, Ethiopia benefited from contact with the Mediterranean
world, which helped to maintain the vitality of its religious heritage.
Each bishop, for example, brought in his luggage theological, canoni-
cal, and/or doctrinal works.
The King of Kings. Although the Ethiopian king, being crowned by

the bishop, could not do without him, the former nevertheless had real
authority over the latter and his Church, since he had a double role as
a spiritual and temporal chief. The king had a say in terms of doctrine
as a true representative of the Ethiopian faith. He convoked and pre-
sided over the councils, which no bishop could do. To the extent to
which the king’s decisions on religious faith did not contradict the
principles of the Alexandrine faith, the bishop did not intervene. But
in the event of a disagreement between the two on doctrinal matters,
the bishop could only rely on the partisans of the Alexandrine faith
among the Ethiopian ecclesiastics. The latter intervened less out of
respect for the bishop than from eagerness to promote their own theo-
logical views against rival schools of thought.
The Ethiopian higher clergy. The structure of the Ethiopian higher

clergy was not strictly centralized. The court clergy, which consisted of
66
priests appointed by the King of Kings for functional tasks, did not
constitute a “government” of the Church but served as a transmission
belt between the royal power and the regional religious institutions,
notably the monasteries, which exercised power locally. By giving them
rights to land, the king gained the support of these institutions. The
granting of titles to court representatives solidified the alliance by
granting national visibility to selected religious institutions. This pol-
icy established a permanent link between some of the country’s most
important religious authorities and the court. In this way the king des-
ignated the chief of the Church of Axum, the Nebura’ed, who had a
strong influence in the north of the country. The highly honorific title
of Aqqabe sa’at was similarly granted to the abbot of the Hayq mon-
astery, which was located at the heart of a vast monastic network in
the centre of the country. Finally, the Ichege, the head of the Debre
Libanos monastery, who was all-powerful in the south of the country,
became a sought-after source of support for monarchs.
The nineteenth century and the new monarchical policy

Starting in the mid-nineteenth century, Ethiopian kings engaged in a
policy of centralization, seeking to impose their administration over
the local powers that had developed since the end of the eighteenth
century. In the eyes of these reformist sovereigns, the Church could
help unify the kingdom and its dependencies around a common
Christian identity, and the clergy could act as agents of political reor-
ganization through the network of monasteries and parishes that they
administered. But it soon became clear that without an organizational
change among the clergy and without its complete submission to royal
power, the Church could not in fact assume such a role.
Alliances and conflicts between the bishop and the monarch. With the
decline of the Solomonic dynasty linked to the slow extinction of the
Gondar regime in the early nineteenth century, the young chiefs of
regional armies who had aspirations to the royal throne were not able
to ground their claims on dynastic legitimacy any longer. Instead, they
needed the support of the bishop in order to be crowned. Once conse-
crated, they had to keep the upper hand over the Church’s highest rep-
resentative to be able to implement their coveted reforms of monarchi-
cal and ecclesiastical powers. The fiery Kassa Hailu, the future King of
67
Kings Tewodros II (1855–68), thus sided with Abuna Salama (1841–

67) by pursuing a hostile policy against the heterodox movements that
challenged the authority of his valuable ally.2 Salama’s successor,
Abuna Atnatewos (1872–76), also knew how to take advantage of this
game of alliances. Coming from Egypt after four years of conflict over
the succession to the Ethiopian throne, he was instructed by the Coptic
patriarch to crown Dejazmach Kassai of Tigray, turned King of Kings
Yohannes IV (1872–89), who had given reassurances of his commit-
ment against the implantation of Catholic missions in Ethiopia.3
Once ad hoc alliances collapsed, monarchs and bishops sometimes
violently confronted each other. Since Tewodros II wanted to reform
the kingdom by setting up an administration financed from a part of
the lands owned by the Church, he suffered excommunication at the
hands of Abuna Salama in 1864, which precipitated the decline of his
reign.4 When Khedive Isma’il of Egypt launched his troops to conquer
Ethiopia in 1875, King Yohannes IV accused Abuna Atnatewos of
maintaining relations with the Egyptian authorities and of being an
unofficial agent of the invader, and as a result excluded him completely
from the affairs of the kingdom.5
Four bishops for Yohannes IV. After the death of Abuna Atnatewos
in 1876, King Yohannes IV asked the Coptic patriarch to designate
several bishops. Following some bitter negotiations, Ethiopia received
four bishops in 1883, all of Egyptian origin. The vacancy of the epis-
copal seat from 1876 to 1883 did not stop the King convening a coun-
cil in 1878 to put an end to the Christological quarrels that had divided
Ethiopian Christians for two centuries. In the absence of a Metro
politan bishop, Yohannes relied on a letter from the Coptic patriarch
to assert the conformity of the kingdom’s official doctrine to that of
the successors of Saint Mark. The four new bishops arrived in 1883
and were settled in each of the kingdom’s regions. Abuna Petros stayed
in Tigray near the king, and was accorded the status of Metropolitan
bishop. The other three were divided between the provinces where het-
erodox movements and Yohannes’ main political rivals were estab-
lished. Abuna Matewos went to Shoa next to Negus Menelik, Abuna
Luqas to Gojjam next to Negus Takla Haymanot, and Abuna Marqos
to Gondar, the centre of Ethiopian Christianity under the jurisdiction
of King Yohannes.6
The presence of several bishops had the advantage of ensuring that
the Metropolitan seat did not become vacant. Through this innovation
68
in the religious domain, Yohannes ensured the stabilization of power

relations with his rivals. Episcopal power thus began to acquire an
embryonic local aspect, as its capacity to keep an eye on the local
clergy was reinforced. Meanwhile, Abuna Petros ensured his role as
Metropolitan by accompanying the King on his military campaigns,
although he did not have genuine ecclesiastical authority over the other
three bishops. The latter performed their roles in different ways. Abuna
Marqos died shortly after his arrival in Gondar. Abuna Luqas hardly
got involved with the politics of Gojjam. Only Abuna Matewos played
a role in the politics of his province, Shoa, by setting himself up as the
champion of the Alexandrine doctrine in a region where the hetero-
doxy of the “three births” was well rooted.
Menelik and Abuna Matewos. After the death of Yohannes IV in

March 1889 on the battlefield against the Mahdist aggressions from
Sudan, Menelik seized the succession—against the will of the deceased
ruler—by having Abuna Matewos consecrate him as King of Kings
Menelik II at Entoto Maryam, in the highland area of the future Addis
Ababa. Abuna Petros, who stayed next to Yohannes IV until his death,
lost his title of Metropolitan since he was no longer the “bishop of the
King of Kings”, but he remained bishop of Tigray and later his juris-
diction was extended to other provinces, as well as Eritrea. Abuna
Matewos was elevated in his turn to the rank of Metropolitan, with
the permission of the Coptic Patriarch Cyril V. Matewos maintained

close ties with Menelik until the end of his reign. The Metropolitan
increased his influence by reforming the church administration, in par-
ticular through the appointment of Liqa Kahenat priests in the prov-
inces. These clergymen were traditionally responsible for monitoring
small sub-parish churches. Abuna Matewos obtained from Menelik II
permission for them, under his authority, to collect taxes in certain
areas, thus providing him with a significant source of revenue and
power.7 The Emperor even made Abuna Matewos his ambassador by
sending him to Jerusalem and St Petersburg in 1902.8
The role of Abuna Matewos was key during the crisis in the succes-
sion that followed Menelik’s death in 1913. The Shoan dynasty
opposed the heir to the throne, Lij Iyasu, son of Ras Mikael of Wollo
and grandson of Menelik, taking a dim view of the ascension of a
Muslim dynasty from Wollo, recently converted to Christianity.
Letting himself be used as an instrument of the conspiracy, Abuna
69
Matewos excommunicated the young prince on 27 September 1916—

the Ethiopian Holy Cross day—accusing him of having renounced the

Christian faith and embraced Islam. Matewos’ move can be under-
stood by the fact that Shoa was the keystone of his episcopal power;
he therefore could not overlook the support of the regional aristocracy.
But it is also important to stress the danger that the ascension of the
Wollo dynasty represented for him. When Lij Iyasu decided to promote
his father Ras Mikael to the dignity of Negus of Wollo in 1914,
Yohannes IV’s former Metropolitan Abuna Petros was designated to
perform the coronation. He stayed in Wollo until he was regarded as
the bishop of the province and accompanied the new Negus during the
offensive that he undertook in 1916 against the troops of Shoa. During
this conflict between regional powers, the fate of the Ethiopian episco-
pate was also at stake, since the winner could elevate its bishop to the
status of Metropolitan. After Mikael was defeated, Abuna Petros fol-
lowed him into prison and died in captivity in 1921 in Addis Ababa.9
Zewditu (1917–30), daughter of Menelik II, was crowned Queen
of Queens on 11 February 1917 by Abuna Matewos. Ras Tafari

Makonnen, the future Haile Selassie, at the time the governor of Harar
and the main instigator of the overthrow of Iyasu, became plenipoten-
tiary regent and heir to the throne.
Changes in the status of the Abun between 1917 and 1959

Between 1916 and 1930 two factions fought over the role of the Abun
and his place within the monarchical institution. On one side, a young
generation of intellectuals and senior officials led by the regent Tafari
pushed for reform of the state and the statutes of the Metropolitan.
For them, the construction of a centralized state had to be achieved
with the Church providing an ideological glue based on an Abyssinian
Christian identity with the Abuna as its chief. In addition, they wanted
the Church to communicate and promote the decisions of the state.
This implied that the monarchy would control the appointment of the
Abuna, who would in turn have the right to appoint the bishops in the
provinces. On the other side, the conservative old guard, led by Abuna
Matewos, was unwilling to concede any changes whatsoever in the sta-
tus of the Metropolitan or the Church. They condemned the idea of
undermining a centuries-old tradition that prevented political interfer-
ence in purely ecclesiastical affairs.
70
The visit of Ras Tafari to Cairo in 1924. In the summer of 1924, Ras
Tafari Makonnen travelled to Cairo for a protocol visit to King Fuad
and the Coptic patriarch. Ras Tafari articulated his demands to
Patriarch Cyril V (1874–1927) and the council of the Coptic commu-
nity. He requested that, upon the death of the ageing Abuna Matewos,
the practice of consecrating an Egyptian monk should be abandoned
and that an Ethiopian monk should be selected instead. Moreover,
while the Coptic patriarch would retain the right to designate the
Metropolitan bishop, the latter should be allowed to select the bishops,
who should be Ethiopian. These demands got a cold reception from
the Coptic community. Ras Tafari returned to Ethiopia empty handed.10
Through the weekly magazine Berhanenna Salam (“Light and Peace”),
which was established in January 1925, progressive intellectuals
launched a hostile campaign against Abuna Matewos and denounced
the capitulation of the Ethiopian Church to the Copts.
The trial of strength between Ras Tafari and the Coptic Patriarch Cyril
V: 1926–1930. In September 1926, Ras Tafari, despite failure in
Egypt, managed to grant more powers to the Ichege. Things stepped
up following the death of Abuna Matewos in December that year. In
need of a new Abuna to crown him as King of Kings, Ras Tafari
resumed negotiations with Cairo to obtain an Abuna who could con-
secrate Ethiopian bishops. Facing the opposition of Patriarch Cyril V
of Egypt (1874–1927), Ras Tafari determined that from then on the
Ichege would be in control of the financial and executive powers of the
Church. In response to this provocation, Patriarch Cyril refused to
name a new Abuna, and it was only after his death in 1927 and the
crowning of Ras Tafari with the title of Negus that negotiations
resumed; they were completed in 1929.11
Yohannes XIX (1928–42), the new Coptic patriarch, chose as
Metropolitan an Egyptian monk who took the name of Abuna Qerellos
VI (1929–50), but did not grant him the right to consecrate bishops.
However, the Copts agreed on a compromise: three Ethiopian monks
were allowed to be consecrated bishops in Cairo in June 1929. This was
a great victory for Negus Tafari.12 The prelates who were selected to
integrate the Ethiopian episcopate were all chosen from among his allies.
Some time later, during the trip of the patriarch to Addis Ababa in
February 1930 for the crowning of Tafari Makonnen as King of Kings
Haile Selassie I, the Ichege Gebre Menfes Qiddus was appointed to the
71
episcopal role for the southern territories under the name of Abuna
Sawiros, thus initiating the fusion of both roles.13 Haile Selassie I now
had a clergy designated by him and under his command, and capable of
controlling territory and transmitting his decisions. The Ethiopian prel-
ates consequently undermined the authority of Abuna Qerellos, whose
only remaining power was the right to consecrate the monarch.
The Italian occupation and its consequences. The Italian occupation

of Ethiopia from 1936 to 1941 caused a blow to Haile Selassie’s
reform policies. The new masters of the country attempted to dissoci-
ate the Church from the monarchy. The Italians killed several church-
men, including the bishop of Wollo Abuna Petros, who they accused
of resisting their power. In an effort to weaken the links between
Ethiopia and British-controlled Egypt, the Italian authorities also tried
to separate the Ethiopian Church from the Coptic patriarchy. Having
initially collaborated with the occupying power, Abuna Qerellos
opposed the Italian project of separating the churches in 1937. Sent to
Rome later that year, he took refuge in Alexandria on the pretext of
being sick. In need of a Metropolitan, Marshal Graziani convened an
assembly of Ethiopian clergymen to elect a new Metropolitan on
27 November 1937. Abuna Abraham, bishop of Gojjam, was elected.

On 28 December 1937, the Coptic Holy Synod declared the election

illegitimate and excommunicated the new Metropolitan.14 Ignoring the

patriarch’s interdiction, Abuna Abraham and his successor Abuna
Yohannes designated eleven bishops in order to constitute a full eccle-
siastical hierarchy.15
In January 1941, Haile Selassie led an attack to reconquer his king-
dom, supported by British troops. Based in Khartoum, the monarch-
in-exile received a letter from Abuna Qerellos expressing his aspiration
to join the campaign. Haile Selassie replied that Ichege Gebre Giyorgis
was right next to him, had been designated in 1934, and now repre-
sented the true authority of the Church. Abuna Qerellos consequently
stayed in Cairo throughout Ethiopia’s reconquest, losing any credibil-
ity he had left in the eyes of his Church and his flock. However, while
Haile Selassie wanted an acquiescent Church led by the Ichege, it was
out of the question to simply inherit the structure left by the Italians,
with a collaborationist Metropolitan who had been excommunicated
by the Copts. He therefore asked Abuna Qerellos to return to Ethiopia
and resume his duties.16
72
The Egyptian delegation that accompanied the Metropolitan in June

1942 to Addis Ababa returned to Cairo with a series of proposals from
Haile Selassie regarding the links between the Ethiopian Church and
the Copts of Egypt.17 He requested the recognition of the Ethiopian
bishops designated during the Italian occupation, the consecration of
an Ethiopian Metropolitan who would have the right to designate
bishops upon the death of the Abuna Qerellos, and the creation of a
synod of Ethiopian bishops that would participate in the election of the
Coptic patriarch. The Coptic Holy Synod rejected all these proposals
in February 1945 but accepted an agreement in principle regarding
Ethiopian participation in the election of the patriarch.18 The situation
seemed completely deadlocked. The reaction in Ethiopia was strong,
and another press campaign against the Copts was launched. The
Metropolitan was described as an ignorant individual who was serv-
ing the interests of Islam, and his incapacity to designate bishops was
perceived as a deliberate ploy on the part of the Copts to weaken the
Ethiopian Church. Never had Abuna Qerellos been so isolated.19
Autonomy. In 1946 a new patriarch, Yusab II, was elected in Cairo.

On 15 July 1948 he consecrated five Ethiopians, including the very

influential Ichege Gebre Giyorgis, who was close to Haile Selassie and
became Abuna Baselyos.20 It was also agreed that upon the death of
Qerellos, an Ethiopian Abun entitled to designate bishops would
replace him. Abuna Qerellos died in Cairo in October 1950 after five
years away from his diocese. On 14 January 1951 Abuna Baselyos

became the first Ethiopian archbishop of Ethiopia invested by the

Coptic patriarch. Haile Selassie’s gamble had succeeded: a Metropolitan
who had the right to constitute a true hierarchy capable of supporting
an efficient provincial administration now led the Ethiopian Church.
The Abun was subjected to monarchical authority since he owed his
new position to the efforts of the sovereign. Yet the status of the arch-
bishop still left the Ethiopian Church under the heel of the Coptic
patriarchate. Two events precipitated the definitive separation of the
two Churches: an institutional crisis within the Coptic Church, and the
Egyptian Revolution led by Gamal Abdel Nasser.
Autocephaly. Under the rule of Colonel Nasser, the position of the

Coptic community within the Egyptian political chessboard was more
contested than ever. In addition, the Coptic patriarchate suffered a
73
very serious institutional crisis between 1954 and 1956.21 Patriarch

Yusab II died in November 1956, and the process of electing a new
patriarch turned into a complex diplomatic and military contest. The
fact that the Ethiopians obtained the same number of votes as the
Egyptians in the Holy Synod for the election of the patriarch deeply
troubled the Coptic community. The possibility of an Ethiopian
becoming Coptic patriarch and the fear that the See of Saint Mark
could be transferred to Addis Ababa distressed the Copts who were
already being ill-treated by their own government. For their part, the
Ethiopians were suspicious of an election that in their view was under
Nasser’s control.22 In the end, Ethiopia obtained the right to have its
own patriarch who could designate bishops outside Ethiopia if he
wished. But the Coptic patriarch continued to consecrate his Ethiopian
counterpart. The Ethiopian patriarch’s appointment remained subject
to the approval of the Coptic patriarch and of the King of Kings. In
June 1959, Haile Selassie went to Cairo and met Nasser. During his
stay, Patriarch Cyril VI of Egypt appointed Abuna Baselyos head of a
new autocephalous Church of Ethiopia.
By becoming autocephalous the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo
Church entered a new phase in its history, in particular in its relation
to the state. Freed from its dependence on the Coptic Church, it imme-
diately came under the tutelage of the monarchy.
An ecclesiastic administration dominated by the monarch: 1942–1974

The monarch took control over the Church through two parallel strat-
egies. The first was to obtain from Egypt the right to have an Ethiopian
patriarch and Ethiopian bishops. The second was to put all the coun-
try’s parishes and monasteries under a centralized authority.23 In 1926
a central administrative entity within the Church was created to deal
with fiscal matters. A decree of 30 November 1942 introduced a tax

on the lands owned by the Church, placing under the jurisdiction of a

central ecclesiastical council the income of every parish throughout the
territory. Not only did this decree limit the financial autonomy of the
churches and monasteries, it also subordinated the appointment of
priests to the control of this council. Tax collectors faced local oppo-
sition, strengthened by the fact that their appointment depended less
on the ecclesiastical council than on the government itself.24
Not satisfied with having subjected the new Ethiopian patriarchate
to his personal authority, Haile Selassie acquired a court clergy that
74
was able to compete with the episcopal authority. A few months after
the consecration of the first Ethiopian patriarch, it was decided that
the Liqa Seltanat Habte Maryam Werqeneh would hold the positions
of manager of the Holy Trinity Cathedral in Addis Ababa (founded in
1943) and the government’s director of religious affairs. Benefiting
from the influence of the theological college that was affiliated to the
Holy Trinity Cathedral in 1948, and utilizing a budget amounting to
approximately 20 per cent of the revenue that the state extracted from
the Church, Habte Maryam Werqeneh undertook the development of
religious associations in Addis Ababa and the launch of newspapers
and radio programmes.25 Although concentrated in the capital, his ini-
tiatives were in direct competition with the patriarchate, which was
largely inert.
Abuna Tewoflos, bishop of Harar since 1951, was elected in April
1971 as the successor to Abuna Baselyos. His main priority was to
complete the centralization of the Church management. In 1972 he
sought to install in each of the country’s parishes a council composed
evenly of priests and laymen elected by local clergy and parishioners.26
Responsible for the management and fiscal matters of the parishes,
these councils constituted the first echelon of a pyramidal administra-
tion linking all the churches to the patriarchate.27 The councils were
the most blatant expression of centralization of Church finances, and
put an end to the fiscal autonomy of the parishes. In addition, the
patriarchate retook the initiative in the development of the Church in
response to the troublesome Liqa Seltanat. Had Haile Selassie not
intervened in person, Abuna Tewoflos would have designated Habte
Maryam bishop of the southern provinces, a position that would have
effectively kept him away from Church affairs.28
The Ethiopian Church in the world and ecumenical relations

Since 1959, the Ethiopian patriarch has had the power to appoint
bishops and archbishops abroad. Missions were established in the
Caribbean, Africa, and the Middle East. Churches were also founded in
countries with substantial Ethiopian diasporas, for example in the
United States and Europe. The development of foreign missions was
undertaken simultaneously with the development of missions within
Ethiopia in those regions where followers of the Ethiopian Church were
a minority. These regions, south and west of the northern Ethiopian
75
high plateaux, were opened by Haile Selassie to Catholic and Protestant

missions in 1944. While this decision formalized the position of the dif-
ferent Christian churches in the territories, tensions remained. Relations
with Catholics continued to be imbued with resentment. Relations with
Protestant churches, domestic or not, were even more troubled, for
Protestant missions were generally established in remote areas where
they could gain more autonomy and local power.
Since becoming a member of the World Council of Churches in
1955, the Ethiopian Church has been involved in ecumenical relations,
in particular with Orthodox Churches. In 1961, the Ethiopian Church
was invited to the first pan-Orthodox conference in Rhodes, organized
by the Patriarchate of Constantinople. A series of meetings between the
Ethiopian Church (pre-Chalcedonian) and the Orthodox Churches
(Chalcedonian) followed, with the objective of establishing a genuine
dialogue between the two traditions under the supervision of the
Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople.
The Church and the 1974 Revolution

By the time the revolution erupted, the Church had a consubstantial
link with the monarchical regime. In May 1974, the patriarchate
requested that the Church should be represented within the new gov-
ernment. But in August the provisional government, by then under the
control of the army, announced the separation of Church and State.
The patriarchate reacted vigorously, demanding that the rules for the
election of the patriarch should be included in the planned new consti-
tution and that Christianity should be declared the official religion of
the state. In spite of the vigour of these statements, the Church was dis-
united: disagreements between the higher and lower clergy became
manifest on 12 March 1974 during a gathering in Addis Ababa of

about a hundred priests who were challenging the policy of hierarchi-

cal centralization implemented by the patriarchate. At the highest level
of the ecclesiastical hierarchy dissent intensified, aggravating long-
standing differences, most importantly between the patriarch and the
clergy of the Holy Trinity Cathedral, and between the patriarch and
Archbishop Yohannes of Tigray who had refused to vote for him dur-
ing the 1971 election. Although the position of Liqa Seltanat had been
abolished on 15 August 1974, and Habte Maryam had been arrested,

the position of Abuna Tewoflos had not become easier. Makonnen
76
Zawde, the chief administrator of the Church, clashed with him.29

Having failed to obtain any answer to his public statements in May
and August and being contested by his own administration, Abuna
Tewoflos kept a low profile. In September, on the day of the Ethiopian
New Year and the day before the King of Kings was arrested, he rec-
ognized the revolution.
If the promulgation of the secularity of the state in August put an
end to the preponderance of the Ethiopian Church in the country, the
agrarian reform announced on 4 March 1975 resulted in an unprece-

dented blow to the Church’s revenue. The decree abolished the

Church’s land ownership and liberated peasants from their obligations
to the institution. The Church therefore lost all of its land revenue,
which constituted the largest share of its economic power. The clergy’s
reaction was intense, but they failed to prevent implementation of the
reforms. Moreover, the establishment of peasant associations in charge
of supervising the reforms challenged the predominant position of the
clergy in the countryside. The decree of 26 July 1975 on urban landed

property completed the reduction in the Church’s land resources.
The takeover of the Church by the revolutionary power: 1976–

1991. Yet the goal of the new government was not to destroy an insti-
tution that could still be useful for the consolidation of its power, as it
had been useful to Haile Selassie. The takeover of the Church by the
revolutionary military junta, the Derg, was done under the leadership
of Lieutenant-Colonel Atnafu Abate, its Vice-President. Gathering
members of the clergy and laymen in a committee around him, he
launched a purge with the explicit goal of fighting corruption among
Church leaders. Between late 1975 and early 1976, individuals consid-
ered undesirable by the regime were imprisoned or sidelined. The
purge reached even to the highest levels. Abuna Tewoflos was accused
of corruption, of committing acts of injustice under the previous
regime, and of having contacts with counter-revolutionary elements.
He was deposed on 18 February 1976 and later incarcerated. He was

executed in August 1979 along with other top imperial officials.

Abba Melaku Wolde Mikael, until then relatively unknown among
the public, was elected patriarch of Ethiopia under the name of Abuna
Takla Haymanot on 18 July 1976 by a college of ecclesiastics and lay-

men. Having been an ascetic monk based in the Wolayta region, and
lacking a modern education, the new patriarch had the exact opposite
77
character to that of Tewoflos. He was therefore well suited to the post

from the perspective of the revolutionary regime. The Coptic Church
in Egypt, led by Patriarch Shenouda III, protested vigorously against
his appointment, and refused to recognize him. The Copts complained
it was illegal to appoint a new patriarch while his predecessor still lived
and had not abdicated. Furthermore the enthronement of an Ethiopian
patriarch still could not be made without consecration by the Coptic
patriarch, as stipulated by the 1959 agreement.30 Some reluctance also
existed amongst the members of the Ethiopian Holy Synod, who con-
sidered in this “apolitical” monk a puppet of the new power. The
majority of the recalcitrant bishops, branded as reactionaries, were
asked to retire. In January 1979 Abuna Tekle Haymanot consecrated
thirteen new bishops. The leadership of the Ethiopian Church radically
changed: out of fourteen bishops only three kept their position.
Furthermore, Qes Solomon, who was “an enthusiastic supporter of the
revolutionary regime”,31 was named as director general of the Church.
The reshuffling at the top of the Church’s hierarchy went along with
reform of the parish administration. Issued in 1972, the first proclama-
tion on the parish councils did not fit in with the new political and
social context. The new administration therefore amended the reforms
of Abuna Tewoflos. It was vital for the Church, deprived of land rev-
enue, to rationalize and thereby maximize the collection of donations
from the faithful. Parish councils were therefore reintroduced in 1976,
and from 1978 the clergy could be paid with locally collected allow-
ances.32 Because it introduced the participation of laymen in the man-
agement of parishes, this system was often described as a form of
“democratization” of the Church, a principle well in line with those of
the new regime.
The spirit of the revolution entered the Church and its members
adopted the discourse of the new state by promoting popular democ-
racy and development. Despite its atheism, the Derg did not attempt to
eradicate the Orthodox Church or Islam, but leaned on religious insti-
tutions in order to spread its ideology and control rural localities.
Therefore, the patriarchate launched a series of seminars throughout
all dioceses to instruct the clergy and the faithful on the compatibility
between the principles of socialism and the Bible. In return for its
cooperative attitude, the Church survived. There was even an upsurge
in church attendance as people found in ritual activities a shelter from
political turmoil.
78
After the death of Abuna Takla Haymanot in May 1988, the patri-
archal election was held on 28 August 1988. The Synod ratified the

choice of the government by electing Abuna Merkorios, the bishop of

Gondar, who was also a member of the Parliament. Like his predeces-
sor, the new patriarch remained extremely close to the regime, being a
hard line supporter of Ethiopian national unity and the war against
Eritrean liberation.
The change of regime in 1991 and the election of Abuna Paulos

After the rebel forces of the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Demo
cratic Front (EPRDF) overthrew Mengistu in May 1991, Abuna
Merkorios tried to hang on to his seat. However, the new regime, like
every previous regime, could not work against a hostile and dissident
Church. The transitional government needed the full support of the
Church. The patriarch was thus forced by the government to abdicate.
For more than one year he was under house arrest. On 3 July 1992 the

Ethiopian Holy Synod elected a new patriarch, Abuna Paulos.

Since the end of the nineteenth century, the designation of a new
patriarch after a regime change had become a tradition in the history
of the relations between the state and the Church.33 By electing Abuna
Paulos, the bishops of the Holy Synod perpetuated this link of interde-
pendence and expressed their will to turn the page from the years of
the Derg.
Abuna Paulos, whose first identity was Abba Gebre Medhin, was
originally a monk from the historic monastery of Abba Garima near
Adwa in Tigray. He was one of the most educated high-ranking cler-
ics of his generation. He studied at the Theological College of the Holy
Trinity in Addis Ababa, then in the United States at St Vladimir
Orthodox Theological Seminary, being thus exposed to the issue of
relationships with other Oriental and Eastern Orthodox Churches.
When the Revolution broke out, he interrupted his studies and
returned to Ethiopia, being summoned by his patron Abuna Tewoflos,
who gave him responsibility for ecumenical affairs. He was among the
five bishops who were ordained by Abuna Tewoflos in 1975, without
government approval. Because of this reshuffling of the episcopal hier-
archy—which was considered an act of defiance—Abuna Paulos and
the other bishops were imprisoned in 1976. He was released in 1983
and sought refuge in the United States until the fall of the military dic-
79
tatorship. There he resumed his doctoral studies in theology at

Princeton University. In 1986, while still in exile, he was elevated to
the rank of archbishop despite being a leading figure of the opposition
to the Derg.
One year after the fall of the military junta, Abuna Paulos was
elected to the position of patriarch. This was meaningful in several
ways. His Tigrean origin was an unambiguous indication that author-
ity had shifted to a new ruling elite, and his election was also presented
as the reinstatement of the righteous succession to Abuna Tewoflos,
who had been uncanonically eliminated and replaced. His intellectual
profile and international experience were also well suited to the task of
rebuilding ecumenical relations with other Churches. As a victim of the
Derg’s abuses, he also built relations with conservative groups who
were nostalgic for the imperial regime, for example by attending the
funerals in 1993 of sixty high dignitaries assassinated by the Derg, and
by presiding over the burial of Haile Selassie in 2000.
Several challenges faced the new patriarch. The reorganization of the
Church and its administration had to take place in the context of a
new political framework and new spiritual aspirations and practices
from the faithful, to which the Church had to adapt. Despite the
unquestionable international skills of the patriarch and the modern
style he instilled into the Church, his authority was contested and
weakened by divisions at various levels.
The separation of the Eritrean Church

The first significant act of Abuna Paulos as patriarch, undertaken
reluctantly, was the separation of the Ethiopian and the Eritrean
Churches. Shortly after the Eritrea independence referendum in April
1993 the Eritrean clergy asked the Coptic Patriarch Shenouda III to
grant Eritreans autonomy from the Ethiopian Church. Abuna Paulos
and Abuna Filipos, the Archbishop of Eritrea, ratified the separation,
and the Coptic Holy Synod approved the autocephaly of the Eritrean
Church on 28 September 1993.

This was an extremely thorny issue. Opponents of the regime

denounced what they saw as the dismembering of Ethiopia’s spiritual
heritage. The patriarch was not in favour of the split, but he managed
to ensure a peaceful resolution of the affair. The shrinkage of the
Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church within the new post-Derg
80
political context was the logical consequence of its earlier separation

from the authority of the Coptic Church. Since 1959 the Church had
completely fallen under the control of the state and so its evolution
was unavoidably linked to political changes. After the Eritrean separa-
tion was accepted in principle, its formal implementation took some
years, in particular because of the need to train the bishops who would
compose the Synod and elect a patriarch. In April 1998 the autoceph-
aly of the Eritrean Orthodox Tewahedo Church was completed with a
ceremony in Cairo, without the presence of the Ethiopian patriarch.
The Coptic Patriarch Shenuda III anointed Abuna Filipos as the first
patriarch of Eritrea.
Thereafter, during the conflict on the borders between Ethiopia and
Eritrea, the patriarchs of the two churches made joint efforts to show
their solidarity and promote peace. Patriarch Abuna Filipos died in
2002, aged 101. He was succeeded by Patriarch Abuna Ya’eqob, who
died in December 2003. Abuna Antonios took over the patriarchate,
but he resisted the interference of the Eritrean government in religious
affairs and refused to take measures against reformist groups within
the Church. In January 2005 the Eritrean Synod, siding with the gov-
ernment, deprived Abuna Antonios of executive power. In January
2006 he was removed from office, his pontifical insignia were confis-
cated and he has been detained under unknown conditions.34 The
fourth patriarch of the Eritrean Church, Abuna Dioskoros, was
appointed in April 2007. Neither the Coptic nor the Ethiopian patri-

archates recognized this election as legitimate, and most Eritrean

Orthodox Christians in the diaspora consider Abuna Antonios to be
the only legitimate patriarch. This controversy over the Eritrean
Church leadership is one of the consequences of a policy of strict
Eritrean government monitoring of all religious groups that participate
in activities outside state-sanctioned institutions.
The dissidence of the EOTC Synod in exile

Besides the separation of the Eritrean Church, a further consequence
of the change in the Ethiopian government was that those exiles who
rejected the new state created a dissident Ethiopian diaspora Church.
After he was deposed and replaced, the former patriarch Abuna
Merkorios was kept in custody. His partisans helped him to escape the
country in October 1993. He first took refuge in Kenya, from where
81
he declared himself to still be the legitimate head of the Ethiopian

Church, and established a dissident Church. His first supporter was
Abuna Yeshaq, who was the Archbishop of the Western hemisphere
(that is, the diaspora in North America and Europe) and who had sup-
ported the Derg in the name of the preservation of national unity. He
had already made his feelings clear in September 1992, when he
refused to recognize the abdication of the former patriarch and the
election of Abuna Paulos. He gathered around him a group of high-
ranking clergymen exiled in the United States and Canada—for exam-
ple Abuna Melke Tsadeq, Abuna Zena Marqos and Abuna Elyas, to
mention only the most well-known. Their opposition to Abuna Paulos
was strengthened by the separation of the Eritrean Church, which
made the transition all the more unbearable to them.
When the deposed Patriarch Merkorios left Kenya and settled in the
US in 1997, the dissenting bishops formed around him the “Legal Holy
Synod in Exile”, which rapidly took control over a number of
Ethiopian parishes abroad, mainly in North America but also in
Europe and Australia.35 It attracted many supporters of the political
opposition to the EPRDF, who are found in large number in the
Ethiopian diaspora. On 21 January 2007, the exiled bishops felt strong

enough to take a further—critical—step forward in their challenge to

the authority of Abuna Paulos. Merkorios consecrated thirteen new
bishops to guide the faithful of his Church and to consolidate its struc-
ture by establishing dioceses in charge of the nearly sixty churches scat-
tered throughout North America and the rest of the world. “By so
doing, [the dissident Church] solidified its official split from the mother
Church in Ethiopia.”36 However, a number of diaspora communities,
particularly in America, felt that this division was the result of politi-
cal issues interfering in religious affairs, and consequently declared
their neutrality and independence from any affiliation to a higher eccle-
siastical hierarchy, modelling their congregational management on that
of Protestant churches.
These three options—obedience to the domestic Ethiopian Church,
dissidence or neutrality—show the different ways of being an Ethiopian
Orthodox Christian abroad. Maintaining reciprocal links between
diaspora and domestic communities has thus become a driving factor
in the evolution of the EOTC. Ethiopian parishes export young

ordained priests and ritual paraphernalia to the diaspora, and receive

in return financial support and senior priests with international expe-
82
rience, who want to revitalize themselves at home and climb the eccle-
siastical ladder.
In response to these divisions, Abuna Paulos committed himself to
ecumenical relations, his area of specialization, trying to end the isola-
tion the Ethiopian Church had suffered from since its separation from
the Coptic community. In 1993, soon after his election as patriarch, he
visited the Ecumenical Patriarchate in Istanbul. His Greek counterpart
visited Addis Ababa in 1994. Theological rapprochement between
Chalcedonians and non-Chalcedonians seems to be far from being
achieved, however, and the time when “Orthodox Ethiopians” will
become simply “Orthodox” still seems distant.
The rise of Evangelical churches and the counter-attack

of Orthodox reformist movements
Another challenge that has gradually weakened the position of the
EOTC has been the erosion of the community of the faithful, which
represented 50.6 per cent of Ethiopia’s population in the national cen-
sus of 1994. This reduced to 43.5 per cent in 2007. This decrease is
mainly explained by the headway made by Evangelical and Pentecostal
Protestant churches (which have increased from 10.2 per cent of the
population in 1994 to 18.5 per cent in 2007); the Muslim population
has remained broadly stable (32.4 per cent in 1994; 34.0 per cent in
2007). A vibrant and fast growing force in the south of the country
and urban centers, Evangelical churches have been competing with the
Ethiopian Church by recruiting from Orthodox families, disseminat-
ing a combative message through modern media, and introducing new
models of piety.
In order to curb this trend, and revive the devotion of the faithful and
enhance their participation in the development of the Church, the
Ethiopian patriarchate undertook a new strategy of communication and
indoctrination. A unique message had to be spread throughout the
Ethiopian clergy. The Sunday Schools department, established in 1973,
was reactivated to lead new efforts in the education of the Orthodox
youth and to increase their participation in the Church.37 The patriarch-
ate tried to further democratize religious knowledge by using a lay asso-
ciation run by students, called Mahibere Kidusan (“Association in the
Name of the Saints”). Founded in the 1980s, the original purpose of
this association was to provide religious teaching in higher education
83
institutions. It progressively became a tool of communication, in charge

of spreading the scripted message from the patriarchate to the prov-
inces. Newspapers, magazines and theological works published by the
association have been distributed in book stalls throughout Ethiopia.
But in delegating the dissemination of its doctrine to an association,
the patriarchate placed itself in a position that created tensions. Using
modern communication technologies (radio, the press and, to a lesser
extent, the Internet) and broadcasting an uncompromising message,
Mahibere Kidusan has taken on the mantle of being the new radical
movement at the heart of the Church. Its discourse is aimed at restoring
the original identity and values of Christian Orthodox Ethiopians by
extending to the laity practices that used to govern only priests, such as
strict observance of fasting, sexual abstinence, and celebrating marriage
by taking communion. More generally, it idealizes a past in which
Christian values were dominant. The association has also published lam-
poons of Islam, which openly subverts the official stance of the patri-
archate and the government, who advocate interreligious tolerance.
In general, Mahibere Kidusan’s teachings express conservative
Ethiopian thought. By focusing on moral issues and sidestepping polit-
ical controversies, the association has been able to translate into reli-
gious language arguments that could not be voiced by the political
opposition, which has been weakened and silenced since the contested
elections of 2005. It has won support particularly from well-off, edu-
cated, young members of the urban middle class. These supporters
gradually felt strong enough to criticize Patriarch Abuna Paulos, whom
they considered to be too careless about the deterioration of the
Church and too subservient to the government. This dissent was influ-
ential enough to create divisions within the Holy Synod. The disrup-
tion was such that in 2009 the association was threatened with excom-
munication and dismantlement.
In addition to this intellectual and educational movement, Ethiopian
Orthodox Christianity has been also transformed at the grassroots
level by the emergence of charismatic figures and the revival of tradi-
tional practices such as exorcism, healing rituals and prophecies. A sig-
nificant role is played by hermit monks, called Bahtawis, who live
strict ascetic lives. They disregard the authority of the Church hierar-
chy because they place themselves directly under God’s rule, believing
they can access divine revelation through their mystical powers. For
instance, Bahtawi Gebremedhin of Entoto, on the heights of Addis
84
Ababa, attracts crowds of people whom he treats with prayers and

holy water (tsebel), which is believed to cure all kinds of diseases,
including AIDS.38 In 1997 another hermit monk, Bahtawi Fekade
Selassie, who was known for his prophecies and harsh criticisms of the
government and Church leadership, was shot dead on the premises of
St Istifanos Church in central Addis Ababa, presumably by one of the
guards of the patriarch. This was a shock for many of the faithful, who
blamed increasing authoritarianism. In the same church the Memehir
(Master) Girma Wondimu performs what people believe to be “mira-
cles” by practicing exorcism. His weekly sessions are attended by a
large local audience, and many more watch videos of him on the
Internet. These healers address the spiritual and psychological needs of
believers who are strained by the daily hardships of existence and the
struggle to adapt to modernity. They draw on ancient traditional
beliefs and practices that were found in the margins of mainstream
orthodoxy.39 These traditions have been reactivated, made more visi-
ble and adapted to modern life in reaction to missionary incursions by
Pentecostal cults based on charismatic healing.
In its long history the EOTC has been periodically agitated by doc-
trinal disputes and charismatic movements. The conservative youth
leaders and intellectuals and the neo-traditional healers who have all
appeared in the last two decades have been serious challengers to the
authority of the patriarch, but they have not destabilized the whole
institution of the patriarchate. On the one hand, Patriarch Abuna
Paulos was a modernizer and he was mainly criticized for having intro-
duced several innovations. By accompanying the general transforma-
tion of Ethiopian society, the patriarchate reduced its exposure to
internal dissent. On the other hand, the patriarchate kept a strong
institutional control over the majority of parishes. Since their establish-
ment in 1972 and their amendment under the Derg, the existence of
parish councils has put an end to the autonomy of the parishes. Each
church throughout the country has become a constitutive block of the
Church’s administrative structure. After the theological college in
Addis Ababa reopened in 1994, church administrators of a new kind
appeared throughout the country, whose role is to enforce regulations
handed down by the national centralized structure of the patriarchate.
If the decision to open up local church administration to laymen was
initially aimed at preparing the way for radical changes, ultimately the
system has mostly helped perpetuate the position of local notables
within parish communities.
85
Constantly assailed to make donations, the faithful are burdened

with making heavy contributions for the support of the clergy and the
maintenance of churches. Through their financial involvement and
their participation in religious associations, parishioners can achieve
the prestigious position of notable, devout, or active member of a com-
munity. Such involvement can assuage the anxiety that results from
seeing one’s local identity being diluted by a perpetually evolving
national identity. In addition to this participation in community life,
there has been a boom of religious associations. These associations
offer their members the possibility of restoring bonds broken by rural
exodus, in particular through mutual aid to help people cope with the
economic costs of funeral ceremonies.
Further evidence of the commitment of Orthodox parishioners to the
vitality of the Church is provided by the evolution of architecture. In
addition to their contributions to the maintenance of ancient churches,
their financial efforts have also helped construct magnificent cathe-
drals—characterized by a cross-shaped plan, high walls, large stained-
glass windows and prominent domes—that can be seen and heard
from far away. The Trinity Cathedral in Addis Ababa, built in 1942,
used to be unique, as the church of the king. The construction in 1997
of the cathedral of Bole Medhani Alem in Addis Ababa, the second
largest in Africa, using community funds, introduced a new model that
quickly spread into many provincial towns. Local communities are
proud of these buildings, which are a powerful sign of the revival of
Ethiopian Christianity. Cathedrals have also enabled a change in the
involvement of the faithful in the liturgy, as they are no longer system-
atically packed outside the church, as in traditional round-shaped
churches, but can stay inside in front of priests and take a more active
share in the celebration. This evolution in the style of worship is testi-
fied to by the popularity of religious hymns on recorded cassettes and
mobile phone speakers. All of this is a way of responding to the threat
to the Orthodox Church from the attractiveness of Protestant churches,
which enjoy playing music and singing during services.
From Abuna Paulos to Abuna Mathias: continuity and beyond

During the twenty years in which Abuna Paulos was patriarch (1992–
2012), the Ethiopian Church underwent transformations that influ-
enced the spiritual and social life of the faithful. An observer of the
86
Ethiopian Church summarized the major issues that it has been con-
fronted with as follows: “Orthodox Christians have been challenged
to re-evaluate their institutions on multiple fronts, to balance the
notions of tradition and territoriality on which their religion is based
with multiple competing conceptions of the Ethiopian future, and with
the mass perspective shift that global economy, secular government,
and narratives of modernity bring about.”40
The patriarchy of Abuna Paulos was closely associated with the
transformations undergone by the whole of Ethiopian society under
the leadership of Meles Zenawi. The new political setting posed sev-
eral challenges to the Church: the separation of the Eritrean Church,
the schism of the diaspora community, and the competition with other
Christian denominations in a newly open religious “market”. Further
more, after the new regime was established, the Ethiopian Church had
to comply with Meles Zenawi’s developmental goals, which aimed at
transforming the Ethiopian psyche from one that valued fatalistic
acceptance and endurance of difficulties (to be rewarded in the after-
life) to one at home in a market economy (in which rewards, in the
forms of money and consumer goods, are given in this life). This shift
in moral values led to the exacerbation of internal doctrinal controver-
sies and criticisms of the patriarch to a level never experienced before,
but Abuna Paulos’s international experience, knowledge of ecumeni-
cal issues, and his sense of modernity balanced by his link to the old
imperial regime have contributed to the stable transformation of the
Church. His main achievements have been the modernization of
Church administration, the improved training of the clergy, the
increased participation of the laity in the Church, the implementation
of developmental activities, and the strengthening of international and
ecumenical relations.
Strikingly, the Patriarch and the Prime Minister unexpectedly died
within a week of one another, at the end of August 2012. The shock
was immense for the whole Ethiopian nation. Suddenly both political
and spiritual powers were absent. After weeks of national mourning
and the celebration of the Ethiopian New Year, the government
affirmed its continuity through the confirmation of Haile Mariam
Dessalegn, the former Deputy Prime Minister, as the new Prime
Minister. For the first time in Ethiopian history a Protestant became
the head of state. In a secular state, his denomination should be con-
sidered as a neutral fact, made inevitable by the religious diversity of
87
the members of the government. Meanwhile, the interim period before

the election of a new patriarch was managed by the designation of
Abuna Nathanael as caretaker patriarch by the Holy Synod.
During this period negotiations were undertaken to bring about rec-
onciliation between the national and the exiled synods. The President
of the Republic, Girma Wolde Giorgis, even wrote a letter to the patri-
arch in exile to convince him to return home. This initiative was dis-
missed as an unconstitutional interference. The attempts at reuniting
the Church ultimately failed, however, because of the refusal of the dis-
sidents to recognize any other patriarch than Merkorios.
The patriarchal election was held at the end of February 2013. 800
voters were drawn from archbishops, representatives of ancient mon-
asteries and the fifty-three dioceses as well as from the faithful, the
Sunday schools and the clergy. None of the well-known rivals of the
late patriarch were among the candidates. This was not seen as the
proper occasion to show internal dissent. Abuna Mathias was elected
on 28 February 2013 and enthroned on 3 March.

The new Patriarch is a figure of continuity. Like his predecessor he

was born in the region of Tigray (in 1940). In 1978 he was appointed
archbishop in Jerusalem, from where he denounced the Derg regime.
He fled in exile to Washington D.C. where he was a spokesman for the
opposition to the Derg. He was reintegrated into the Holy Synod in
1992 after the appointment of Abuna Paulos. He actually stayed in
Washington, where he was based as the archbishop of North America
until 2009. Being the representative of the official EOTC, he made
efforts to reach reconciliation with the dissenting parishes in the dias-
pora. Between 2009 and 2012 he was back in Jerusalem as archbishop.
His background and international profile, very similar to that of Abuna
Paulos, indicate that the EOTC will continue to be a cooperative actor
in the Ethiopian government’s national development strategy.

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3
THE ETHIOPIAN MUSLIMS
HISTORICAL PROCESSES
AND ONGOING CONTROVERSIES
Éloi Ficquet
This chapter will review the long lasting issue of the participation of
Muslims in the construction of Ethiopian nationhood and the related
challenge of how to maintain coexistence and mutual tolerance between
religious groups.1 From perhaps the tenth century, independent Muslim

polities neighboured the Christian kingdom of the north-western

Ethiopian highlands. Although mutual recognition grew out of trade
relations, competition and distrust sometimes led to conflicts between
these powers and the Christian kingdom. In the second half of the nine-
teenth century an imperial state was built up on Christian allegiance.
Muslim subjects were forcefully incorporated into the new territorial
framework of the Ethiopian state, in which they were discriminated
against and marginalized. After the 1974 revolution and the downfall
of imperial rule, the authorities moved towards more secular orienta-
tions. Muslims have been gradually recognized as having equal rights
93
in a pluralistic society. However, they still have to struggle—internally

within their communities and externally by confronting government
interference—against the suspicion that they could be vectors of exter-
nal threats emanating from the wider Islamic world.
Number, distribution and visibility of Muslims in Ethiopia

Today Muslims represent a large portion of the Ethiopian population.
Around one Ethiopian in three adheres to Islam. This has been the offi-
cial estimate since the first statistical surveys in the 1960s and has been
confirmed by every national census since 1984.2 The last census, under-
taken in 2007, showed that 33.9 per cent of Ethiopians (25 million out
of 74 million) were Muslims, up from 32.8 per cent in the 1994 cen-
sus. There has been some discussion about whether or not this stable
proportion of one third is accurate. Some observers have asserted that
this is an underestimation, fabricated and constantly repeated by the
Ethiopian authorities and foreign scholars. Some web columnists even
claim that Muslims could make up the majority of the Ethiopian pop-
ulation, but such statements are made without providing factual data
convincing enough to support them.
On a map of Ethiopia’s religions three main blocks appear. The east-
ern regions (Afar, Somali, eastern Oromiya) are predominantly Muslim
and the north-western regions (Tigray and Amhara) are Orthodox
Christian. Protestant Christians are concentrated in the south-west—
in the Southern Nations, Nationalities, and Peoples’ Region (SNNPR)
and Gambella. This snapshot picture is highly contrasted and should
not hide the fact that a high number of Ethiopians experience much
more complex situations of interreligious coexistence, particularly in
towns and some densely populated rural areas. A focus on Muslims in
each region shows different kinds of situations. Almost the entire pop-
ulations of the Afar and Somali regions follow Islam (95 per cent and
98 per cent respectively). Muslims are a small minority in Tigray (4 per
cent). They are found in a larger proportion in Amhara (17 per cent),
their number being high in its eastern districts of Wollo and Shoa, bor-
dering the Afar and Oromiya regions. The situation is similar in the
SNNPR, where Muslims (14 per cent) are concentrated in the north-
eastern areas bordering Oromiya, particularly the Gurage and Silte
zones. In the Benishangul Gumuz Region, which borders Sudan,
Muslims make up 45 per cent of the population. The region with the
94
largest number of Ethiopian Muslims is Oromiya. They represent 48

per cent of Oromiya’s population, and Oromo Muslims represent 51
per cent of all Ethiopian Muslims. They are concentrated in the regions
of Jimma, Illubabor, Arsi, Bale, and in the surroundings of Harar.
In recent years the size of the Muslim population has remained quite
stable in relative terms, but their visibility has significantly increased in
the public sphere and this may have given the impression of a sudden
rise in their number. For example, regulations on the construction of
mosques have been eased,3 Muslim clothes (including the hijab for
women and qamis for men) have become quite common in the streets,
and Islamic spiritual songs in Arabic and Ethiopian languages are often
heard coming from loudspeakers in Muslim-owned music shops.
Such public expressions of Islamic identity represent a significant
break from the past. The next sections will review the evolution of the
situation of Ethiopian Muslims, from their status as a minority group
to their struggle for recognition and civil rights.
Muslims in north-east Africa, before their incorporation into

the state of Ethiopia
For centuries Islam has been taught, practised and debated within the
territorial framework that is identified today as the state of Ethiopia.
The proximity of Arab countries facilitated the early diffusion of Islam
into Ethiopia and helped maintain a continuous flow of new ideas
from the international Islamic community. However, this geographical
situation does not fully explain the attractiveness of Islam in the
Ethiopian setting. Among the many factors, let us emphasise two. First,
the principles of Islam consider as equals all humans who fear and
accept the supreme authority of Allah, beyond cultural divisions and
without the mediation of a clerical hierarchy above the rest of the soci-
ety.4 Second, through the medium of Arabic, Islam provides access to
a written language of international communication. Through its egal-
itarian and intercultural values Islam contributed to the lifting of bar-
riers between north-east African societies and linked many of them
into trans-regional networks that helped the circulation of goods, ideas
and people. Despite its universal outlook, it did not remove the roots
of local conflicts, but it generally shifted priority to the maintenance of
peaceful interaction between Muslim groups, regardless of their cul-
tural differences.5
95
In the context of the global history of Islam, Ethiopia is character-

ized by the longstanding coexistence of Muslim communities side by
side with a powerful Christian state. Unlike other ancient Christian
communities in Africa (for example, in Egypt, the Maghreb and
Nubia), who were reduced to the status of political minorities by Arab
conquerors and progressively converted to Islam, the ancient Ethiopian
Christian Kingdom of Aksum established early relations with emerg-
ing Islamic powers and contained them on the fringes of its realm.
The establishment of this modus vivendi is recalled by the famous
story of the first hijra (migration). When the first followers of the
Prophet Muhammad fled persecution in Mecca, they took refuge in
Aksum under the protection of the king or negus (najashi in Arabic
traditions). As a token of gratitude, the Prophet is said to have
instructed his followers not to invade Ethiopia as long as Ethiopians
did not attack Muslims.6 This episode in early Islamic history reflects
a certain level of mutual respect and understanding between Christians
and Muslims in Ethiopia, which has been maintained over centuries.
As the two religions share a wide set of common references, concepts
and values, differences between rival societies were translated in
Ethiopia into a kind of agreed ideological dualism. Exchanges were
facilitated by a clear division of socio-economic roles. Of course, such
a model of coexistence could not work without competition. Peaceful
interactions were frequently overshadowed by low intensity conflicts
in contact areas. However, clashes were generally not primarily trig-
gered by religious differences.
In the Middle Ages, between the tenth and sixteenth centuries,
Christian and Muslim polities continued their expansion southwards,
driven by similar dynamics and means. Holy men—Christian monks
and Muslim sheikhs—travelled into the “wilderness” to convert hea-
then societies on the periphery of their respective polities. Their mas-
tery of religious texts was the source of their charisma and the aura of
conviction through which they spread their beliefs and converted local
populations. They then helped smooth the process of integration of
these groups into the political and economic spheres of the Christian
and Muslim polities. In short, tax-collecting royal armies followed
Christian monks; caravans followed Muslim sheikhs.7 Permanent
Muslim settlements were gradually strung out along trade routes, con-
necting trading posts and their hinterland with the international net-
works that travelled through the Red Sea. Areas of medium altitude
96
were their favoured environments. One advantage of such environ-

ments was that they collected waters flowing from escarpments.
Another was that they were high enough for their inhabitants to gain
an overhead view of traders and conflicts coming from the lowlands.8
In the sixteenth century, hegemonic ambitions on both sides led to
an escalation of warfare that culminated in the Islamic invasion and
occupation of the Christian kingdom between 1529 and 1543. This
jihad was led by Imam Ahmad bin Ibrahim, known as Gragn “the
Left-handed”, who fought to establish a strong and unified Muslim
East African state. A Portuguese expeditionary force sent to support
the critically endangered Christian kingdom killed him. His army col-
lapsed and disbanded after his death and his successors failed in their
attempts to regain lost territories. On both sides this devastating con-
flict was followed by a long period of decline, disintegration and reor-
ganization of regional powers.
This period of confrontation and reshaping of local powers gave
opportunities for literate and charismatic men—ulama and awliya9—
to circulate between polities and gain “employment” as advisers, heal-
ers and peacemakers. Some of them came from Arab countries and
some even claimed to descend from Sharifian lineages linking them to
the family of the Prophet Muhammad. Their knowledge, charisma and
origins conferred on them great prestige, which was in turn bestowed
upon their hosts and protectors. Conversion to Islam spread from elites
to local populations in a process that incorporated local beliefs by
translating them into the transnational words and codifications of
Islam. This wave of Islamization had a strong impact on Oromo poli-
ties (in the areas of Hararge, Wollo and Gibe) that were connected to
trade routes through the interregional and international networks of
Islam. This missionary impetus corresponded to a wider scale reform
movement in the Muslim world, carried out by old (Qadiriyya,
Shadhiliyya) and new (Tijaniyya, Ahmadiyya) Sufi mystical orders.
Muslims and the making of Ethiopia in the nineteenth

and twentieth centuries
In reaction to the expansion of Islam there was a re-awakening of
Ethiopian Christian nationalism in the second half of the nineteenth
century. The formation of the modern state of Ethiopia is the result of
policies of expansion and modernization centred on the Christian
97
Kingdom of Ethiopia (for details of this process see Chapter 6 in this

volume). This process was carried out through the conquest of periph-
eral territories and peoples, many of whom were Muslims or had been
previously exposed to Islamic influence. From this period onwards, a
large number of Muslims have become nominally Ethiopians. They
have found it challenging to actually become true citizens, for they
have been faced by authorities who, more or less officially, consider
them as deviant from the genuine Ethiopian identity and as potential
enemies linked to external rivals.
The strategy of building a Christian hegemony over neighbouring
Muslim territories was based on the memory of the religious wars of
the sixteenth century, and was nourished by a belief that the recon-
quest of lost provinces would revive the golden age of the medieval
empire and open a new prosperous era for a Greater Ethiopia. This
Christian expansionism, partly driven by irredentism—that is, the
desire to annex land on the grounds of prior historical possession—
was further encouraged by the international context, in which Muslim
countries (of which Egypt was particularly at the forefront of the
Ethiopian consciousness) were occupied by European powers. The
Ethiopian leaders of the second half of the nineteenth century—
Emperors Tewodros II, Yohannes IV and Menelik II—aimed to elevate
Ethiopia to the rank of the major powers in a world dominated by
European Christian colonial empires. Furthermore, the Europeans gave
some direct and indirect assistance to Ethiopian Christians—selling
them firearms and giving them technological advice—which made the
difference on the battlefields.
Violent means of annexation, including attempts to force mass con-
version, and oppressive occupation regimes generated resistance from
Muslim communities. The annexation policy also sharpened the hos-
tility of Islamic anti-colonial movements in neighbouring countries,
such as Mahdist Sudan10 and Somaliland, where Muhammad Abdille
Hassan, the so-called “Mad Mullah”, led a rebellion against colonial
forces. Some peripheral groups who still practiced indigenous religions
also converted to Islam in order to protect themselves against Christian
domination and predation.11 Being aware of the risk of setting up
Muslims against his nation-building policy, Emperor Menelik II
adopted a more conciliatory approach.
After victory in the Battle of Adwa against the Italians in 1896,
Ethiopia’s independence was secured against the threat of colonial
98
invasion, and international treaties guaranteed its boundaries. To con-

solidate the nation within its expanded framework the crown needed
the participation of all Ethiopians, including the recently absorbed
Muslim communities and polities. Muslim areas were of particular
importance since they had become “buffer zones” between the core of
the kingdom and the bordering countries under colonial rule, and they
connected Ethiopia to the world through international commercial net-
works. Menelik understood that Muslims were the economic lungs of
the country. Therefore, his government tolerated their distinctness as
long as they practised their faith discreetly12 and accepted Christian
domination even in Muslim-majority regions.
In 1909 Menelik designated his only grandson, Lij Iyasu, as his heir
to the throne of the Empire. Iyasu was sixteen years old when the
Emperor died in 1913. Though educated as a Christian prince, he was
the son of a Muslim lord of Wollo, who had converted to Christianity
following a pattern of political conversions that had been quite com-
mon in this territory since the end of the eighteenth century.
During his short reign Lij Iyasu tried to accommodate religious
diversity by regularly visiting Muslim chiefs and making alliances with
them. He paid respect to them through symbolic acts such as wearing
Muslim dress, and he did not hide his Muslim ancestry, being proud of
incarnating the alliance between the two sacred dynasties of King
Solomon and the Prophet Muhammad. His political behaviour indi-
cates that he probably had in mind a kind of syncretic fusion of the
two religions, or at least an equality of status, that would abrogate reli-
gious discrimination and strengthen the future of Ethiopia. His many
marriages with Christian and Muslim women from ruling families of
all Ethiopian regions can be understood in this conciliatory perspec-
tive. He was also concerned with geopolitical issues. In the context of
the First World War he sympathized with Turkey and Germany against
France, Britain and Italy. Indeed, these three colonial powers had
agreed to share Menelik’s empire after his death and senior officers
who tutored him warned Iyasu against this threat. The way he gov-
erned has remained unclear and misunderstood by most historians,
who have generally reduced his reign to his impetuous and immature
nature. His benevolent attitude towards Islam was provocative to con-
servative challengers. Playing on his ambiguous behaviour, they
employed the communication technologies of the time (press propa-
ganda, doctored photographs) to convince the public that Iyasu could
99
not be crowned because he had, they said, converted to Islam. He was

excommunicated and deposed in September 1916, captured in 1921
and kept in custody until his murder in 1935.13
After this contested interregnum, the Shoan Christian aristocracy
firmly reasserted their domination. Menelik’s daughter Zewditu was
crowned Empress and power was exercised by Ras Tafari Makonnen,
who had the title of Crown Prince and the role of regent plenipoten-
tiary until his coronation as King of Kings Haile Selassie in 1930. This
man was the very opposite of Iyasu in every facet of life and politics.
As he was the son of Ras Makonnen, the conqueror and governor of
Harar, his background and perspectives were fundamentally bound to
the policy of Christian domination over Muslim territories. For this
purpose he favoured the settlement of Christian soldiers on Muslim
lands. Ethiopian Muslims “seem to have accepted their subordinate
position as part of the natural order of things”.14 Their resignation was
the result of the harsh military control imposed on them to prevent any
expression of discontent.
The Italian fascist occupation authorities between 1935 and 1941
exploited the resentment of Ethiopian Muslims against Christian
oppression. Following the colonial principle of “divide and rule”, they
took measures favourable to the emancipation of Muslims such as
building new mosques (no less than fifty), allocating grants for pilgrims
to Mecca, and supporting Islamic education and publications in
Arabic. This policy had the purpose of undermining Ethiopian anti-
colonial resistance, which the Italians considered essentially Christian-
driven.15 Indeed, since Muslims were barred from the Ethiopian impe-
rial army and were forbidden to own firearms, they were neither able
nor inclined to fight alongside the patriots.
This short episode of Italian rule had a considerable impact on
Ethiopian Muslims’ self-awareness. First, the extended rights they were
temporarily granted provided a memory that spurred on their later
struggles for recognition. Secondly, pilgrimages, education trips and
imported books exposed the most learned to the currents of ideas cir-
culating in the Muslim world, amongst which was the fundamentalist
Salafi movement from Saudi Arabia which became an influence on
Ethiopian Islam from then on.16
The Italian East African Empire was defeated in 1941 with the help
of British troops. Haile Selassie’s monarchy was restored. Some retal-
iatory measures were taken against Muslim leaders on account of their
100
collaboration with the enemy, but the Emperor also followed a policy
of appeasement and co-option of Muslim notables. However, the cen-
tralization of power undertaken by the Emperor to reestablish his
authority worsened the marginalization of local Muslim leaderships.
In eastern Ethiopia the post-World War II situation led to particular
developments. The planned independence and unification of British
Somaliland and ex-Italian Somalia stirred up the Somali nationalist
movement in Ethiopia. The idea took hold of building a “Greater
Somalia”, including Ethiopia’s Somali territories, identified as land
populated by “Western Somalis”, which were then under British pro-
visional administration. Somali ambitions also included the incorpora-
tion of eastern Oromos with whom they shared common cultural
features and a similar past. The Somali Youth Club, the first Somali
political organization (established in 1943), opened an office in Harar
where local grievances were gathered in a petition forwarded to Arab
countries. This movement, which marked the deterioration of the inter-
national image of Ethiopia as a tolerant country, was severely crushed
by the imperial authorities in 1948.17 Later in the 1960s, Somalia’s
independence and unification encouraged the outbreak of a rebellion
in Bale, rallied by eastern Oromo Muslims. In the same period, Muslim
lowlanders were the first to protest against Ethiopia’s annexation of
Eritrea in 1962. They formed the first armed liberation front before
Christians took over the leadership of the insurrection.
It would be simplistic, however, to imply that ethno-nationalist
movements and those who demanded religious freedom had the same
goals. The political movements were concerned with economic prob-
lems and the defence of autonomous ethnicities. They were guided by
worldwide left-wing ideologies such as Pan-Arabism or Third-Worldism
that gave priority to modern development understood in a secular per-
spective, religions being criticized for supporting backward social
orders. On the other hand, activists for religious rights among Ethiopian
Muslims were not leaning towards radical action. Their aspiration
tended to be national integration; they wished to be recognized as no
less Ethiopian than any other citizen and to enjoy equal rights.
By virtue of Ethiopia’s longstanding resistance to colonialism,
Emperor Haile Selassie liked to pose as a hero of African indepen-
dence. While he hosted Africa’s independent countries at the headquar-
ters of the Organization of African Unity in Addis Ababa, he could not
appear as a persecutor of his own population. He therefore tried to
101
silence expressions of discontent rising from Muslim communities by

coming up with half-hearted measures such as allowing local Muslim
shari’a courts to settle legal disputes pertaining to private affairs.18
Such compromises hardly satisfied the demands for religious free-
dom. The dissatisfaction of Ethiopian Muslims converged with the
growing frustrations of other social groups. At the beginning of 1974
a popular uprising erupted against the social and economic dead-ends
of the imperial administration. In April, after a series of strikes held by
students, low rank clergymen, taxi drivers, prostitutes and public offi-
cers, tens of thousands of Muslim residents of Addis Ababa took the
street to add their voices to the general protest. This huge demonstra-
tion was a historical landmark. It marked “the culmination of a sense
of indignation and an organized expression of their pent-up anger and
discontent which had been simmering for many years”.19 A petition of
thirteen requests was submitted to the government asking for equal
rights and freedom of worship. The demand that the official designa-
tion of “Muslims living in Ethiopia” (which implied that Muslims were
aliens) should be changed to “Ethiopian Muslims” significantly empha
sized national consciousness.
The popular movement was followed by a military coup triggered
by the most radical faction within the army. The Emperor was deposed
in September 1974. The Derg promised to prioritize Ethiopia and to
treat all Ethiopians equally irrespective of their religious differences. It
granted religious freedom to Ethiopian Muslims and declared official
the observation of Muslim holidays. The Muslim Council was formally
established in 1976. It was, however, nothing more than a de jure body
without proper function.20 And such policies were abandoned after the
Derg shifted to a scientific socialist ideology, which considered all reli-
gions backward and reactionary. Thereafter, all religious denomina-
tions were persecuted indiscriminately. In eastern Ethiopia Muslims in
particular were hit hard as they were suspected of having sided with
the Somalis during the Ogaden War of 1977.21 Every religious author-
ity was considerably weakened by the Derg’s authoritarianism. How
ever, religious sentiment in the populace was reinvigorated and trans-
formed, with resort to clandestine ceremonies.
At another level, the implementation of a command economy had
heavy consequences for Muslim businessmen. They were denounced as
exploiters and plotters against the economy and accused of sabotaging
the revolution by increasing prices. A number of them were arrested
102
and executed. Their financial position was undermined by the nation-

alization of trading companies and the confiscation of rented housing.
Muslims under the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic

Front: from satisfaction to protest
The military socialist dictatorship of the Derg, led by Mengistu Haile
Mariam, eventually collapsed in May 1991. It was defeated by a coali-
tion of ethno-nationalist guerrillas under the leadership of the Tigray
People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), which became a national party ori-
ented towards revolutionary democracy, the Ethiopian People’s
Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF). Religion had not been a
priority for the rebel groups. Their struggle against the Derg was
guided by radical Marxist principles that were atheistic. However, they
had to respect the denominations and beliefs of the population to win
and retain public support.
Under the leadership of Meles Zenawi, the main goal of the transi-
tional government was to build ethnic federalism, designed to accom-
modate the country’s diversity with the purpose of greater national
integration. The religious factor was not taken into account in the lay-
ing out of the ethnic regions, which were based mainly on the criterion
of linguistic homogeneity. An efficient way to neutralize religious
issues was to give freedom to the faithful, while monitoring them
softly, to let them accept and respect the secular constitutional frame-
work and the newly established political order.
The Federal Constitution of Ethiopia, adopted at the end of 1994,
promulgated religious freedom and equality of rights. Article 11 pro-
claimed the separation of state and religion through three clear-cut
points: “1. State and religion are separate; 2. There shall be no state
religion; 3. The state shall not interfere in religious matters and religion
shall not interfere in state affairs”. Article 25 affirmed the equality of
all citizens without any denominational discrimination and Article 27
guaranteed freedom of worship, including the right for believers to
“establish institutions of religious education and administration in
order to propagate and organize their religion”.
This constitutional commitment to secularism was followed by mea-
sures allowing Muslims to practice their faith more openly. The three
main festivals (Id al-Fitr, Id al-Adha [or Arafa] and Mawlid) of the
Muslim calendar became public holidays; procedures for the construc-
103
tion of mosques and schools were eased; and restrictions on pilgrimage

to Mecca were lifted, as was the ban on importing or printing religious
printed materials.22 Furthermore, the representation of Muslims in
regional government and assemblies enhanced their participation in
national affairs. However, the first fly in the ointment appeared in early
1995 when the Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs, the Majlis, was
reactivated and reorganized. Elections of regional and national repre-
sentatives stirred up an internal power struggle; the leadership, which
was loyal to the national government, was pitted against independent
and supposedly more representative personalities. In early 1995 this
quarrel led to an outbreak of violence in the compound of the Anwar
Mosque of Addis Ababa that was severely repressed by the police.
All in all, Ethiopian Muslims welcomed the EPRDF’s liberal reli-
gious policy, which allowed them to take significant steps towards
being recognized as fully-fledged citizens. Nevertheless, religion being
a competitive arena, the new openness generated internal debates and
external tensions. To review recent trends and protests in Ethiopian
Islam, four issues need to be considered:
(a) Ethiopian Islam has gone through a general revival and Ethiopian
Muslims have strengthened their relations with the Arab world;
(b) An increasing number of Muslims have opted for radical tenden-
cies motivated by desire for more rigorous moral standards rather
than by political goals;
(c) Both (a) and (b) have contributed to the hardening of inter-
religious tensions;
(d) Suspicions that Ethiopian Muslims are accommodating extremist
Islamist cells has led the state to monitor Muslim organizations,
restrict freedom of expression and impose a preferred form of reli-
gion. In response, since the beginning of 2012, many Ethiopian
Muslims have started to express their disagreement. Irritation has
grown into anger, leading to weekly mass protests against what
many consider unconstitutional state interference in religious affairs.
The Islamic revival and Ethiopian Muslims’ tighter links

with the Middle East
By allowing more religious freedom, the EPRDF created a favourable
environment for a movement of revival within Ethiopian Islam. Indeed,
Ethiopia’s other religious groups have also experienced renewed pop-
104
ular interest in religion, its values and its spiritual resources. Several
factors have increased both the demand for and supply of religion. A
growing number of denominational schools have disseminated reli-
gious ideas using diverse models of education.23 The revival in Islam
has also been enhanced by the availability of Islamic literature in the
form of magazines, newspapers, music, imported Arabic materials, and
translations from Arabic, as well as writings by Ethiopian and foreign
Muslim writers.24 Moreover, in a political sphere dominated by one
party silencing divergent voices, religion has appeared as a protected
and attractive sphere for debating societal issues. Hence, religion has
“surfaced as a force for social mobilization”.25
Furthermore, the opening of the country’s borders and the develop-
ment of telecommunication networks exposed Ethiopians to foreign
influences and stimulated their connectedness with the Ethiopian dias-
pora. For Ethiopian Muslims, contacts with the outside world were
and remain particularly oriented towards the regional neighbours
along the Nile, the Red Sea and the Gulf states. Contacts have been
established through pilgrimage to Mecca, Islamic higher education
programmes and legal and illegal labour migration.
In particular, the employment of Ethiopian domestic workers in the
Arab world has significantly increased in the past ten years.26 Lines of
young Ethiopian women (most of them from Muslim areas) queuing
every evening at check-in desks at Bole International Airport for Middle
East destinations are the visible side of this emigration.27 A great deal
of trafficking is also done behind the façade of legal brokerage. Reports
of mistreatment and abuse regularly appear in the news, disclosing the
hard conditions of exploitation and harassment Ethiopian maids
abroad are confronted with.28 Despite these hazards, the relatively high
level of income earned by migrant workers, as well as the emphasis that
is put on success stories locally, have made emigration an attractive
route to social advancement among young generations.
The financial returns from these human flows are high. On the one
hand, remittances (money sent home by emigrants) have become a vital
resource for many Ethiopian families and communities. On the other
hand, Ethiopian students and religious personalities are connected to
networks that attract and funnel diverse sources of funding for sup-
porting philanthropic projects or mosque building. These links have
especially strengthened Saudi and Emirati influences on the Ethiopian
Muslim way of life and religious practice. This influence was also
105
amplified by the economic success story of the Ethio-Saudi billionaire

investor Sheikh Mohammed Al Amoudi, owner of the largest private
Ethiopian conglomerate. Outside the economic sphere, cultural and
spiritual norms are channelled and constantly updated through
Ethiopia’s large satellite television audience. And, recently, websites
developed by members of the Ethiopian diaspora in the US and Europe
have offered information and perspectives on Ethiopian Muslim con-
cerns from the point of view of Muslims who have experienced life in
secular Western countries.29
Radicalization: the increasing attractiveness of Salafism

Under the general term of Salafism, radical Islamic movements reinter-
pret the roots of Islam to advocate strict and literal observance of reli-
gious rules.30 In the name of the absolute oneness of Allah (the doctrine
of tawhid), Salafists challenge some of the established practices of
Islam, particularly Sufi practices, and condemn some teachings and
spiritual exercises as heresy (bid‘ah) and idolatry (shirk). Hence, dom-
inant traits of Ethiopian Islam, which have become embedded in local
cultures, such as the celebration of the Prophet Muhammad’s birthday,
the worship of saints, visits to shrines and therapies for removing evil
spirits, are castigated by Salafis as misleading and backward in com-
parison with the Arab model of Islamic purity. Such Arab teachings are
reinforced by Salafism’s capacity to give access to a wide range of
resources and business opportunities.
Salafism was first introduced into eastern Ethiopia by pilgrims and
students returning from Saudi Arabia in the 1940s. The reformist ideas
they had been exposed to matched local aspirations for change in the
eastern Oromo regions of Arsi, Bale and Hararge. Yet the audience for
Salafi ideas remained limited to small circles and their dissemination
was checked by the strong mystical Sufi tradition in Ethiopian Islam.
Such doctrinal confrontation has been carried into internal debates in
the Ethiopian Muslim community. Salafis are viewed by their oppo-
nents “as rigid literalists, as narrow-minded and as ignorant of the
diversity of Islamic scholarship. They are criticized for separating
themselves from the current societal debate, labelled as backward and
accused of playing a destructive role in the development of the Muslim
community in Ethiopia.”31
Yet an increasing number of Ethiopian Muslims have drifted
towards the values and models of behaviour of radical Islamic move-
106
ments, among which Salafism has been the most influential.32 This
movement has spread from its foothold in the eastern Oromo areas of
Arsi and Bale. It has gained some influence in other areas of the
Oromiya Regional State (for example, Harar and Jimma), and in Addis
Ababa and the Muslim areas of the Amhara Regional State (eastern
Shoa and Wollo) and the SNNPR (Silte). But compared to the deeply
rooted Sufi institutions, shrines and pilgrimages, the actual penetration
of Salafism greatly varies from place to place. Organizations funded by
Saudi Arabia have played an instrumental role in the dissemination of
Salafi doctrines. Among these, the Ethiopian Muslim Youth Associa
tion (linked to the World Association of Muslim Youth) and the
Aweliyya School and Mission (see note 23) have played particularly
noticeable roles. However, although foreign funding has provided
incentives for the proliferation of Salafi institutions, the construction
of mosques and schools could not be achieved without the financial
contribution of local communities,33 and neither could their premises
be maintained without regular attendance.
In a context dominated by dramatic economic and social transfor-
mations, many of Ethiopia’s young Muslims have perceived Salafism
to offer an appropriate response. State-driven development pro-
grammes combined with liberalizing policies have led to the emergence
of new categories of business people and a shift away from traditional
values and economic positions. In other words, Salafism, among other
religious movements, can be understood as a moral and religious
response to a changing environment and an attempt at redefining and
enhancing Muslim self-consciousness.
Given the absolute control of the ruling party over politics, Salafism’s
influence has remained confined to moral, lifestyle and ritual spheres.
It has not overflown into the political game in the same way that it has
in neighbouring countries, where movements of political Islamism
struggle for the strict application of shari‘a law and drag extremist
groups in their wake. Nevertheless, Salafism in Ethiopia, as elsewhere,
is not a cohesive movement, and some minority extremist groups, par-
ticularly the Takfir wal Hijra, have erupted onto the Ethiopian political
landscape by refusing to recognize the constitution (which they consider
to be idolatry), pay tax or carry national ID cards.
107
Interreligious tensions
Similar dynamics of religious transformation and radicalization have
also been at work in the practices and discourses of the Christian
Orthodox and Protestant churches. This has in turn stirred up inter-
religious debates and competition. Indeed, a common pattern in
reformist speeches is to highlight the threat of being overcome by chal-
lengers from other denominations, who are generally portrayed as
“fanatical” and “aggressive”. Ironically, the same epithets are often
applied to the reformers themselves by their coreligionists, who see
them as internal challengers.
Besides reciprocal invectives, carried out through the publication of
controversial pamphlets, the most frequent expressions of tension
between religions take place through appropriations of public space. A
sign of this sharpened competition has been the increasing use of loud-
speakers to broadcast sermons and spiritual songs. The most contro-
versial issue is the construction of places of worship, mosques in par-
ticular. In Addis Ababa, as well as in most of the major towns of the
country, the authorization given to Muslim communities after 1991 to
build large, highly visible and architecturally ambitious mosques
helped transform urban landscapes. In many cases, this was strongly
challenged by Orthodox Christian residents of the neighbourhoods
where new mosques were built, mainly through legal battles over the
ownership of the land, which generated bureaucratic delays in build-
ing. Enmity was also expressed by the throwing of stones at mosques
(under the cover of darkness).34 Attempts to build the first ever mosque
in the Christian sacred city of Aksum were foiled by the angry protests
of members of the Orthodox Church. Some disputes led to violence
and bloodshed. In the last ten years some sporadic interreligious
clashes have also been reported in the south-west of Ethiopia, particu-
larly in Oromiya, where Christian communities (generally Protestant-
Evangelical, rarely Orthodox) have been harassed and attacked and
their churches burnt by groups of the majority Muslim population,
who themselves have been infuriated by acts of provocation, such as
incendiary speeches and the profanation of the Qur’an.
However, these occasional outbursts of interreligious violence have
never escalated into larger conflicts. The harshest disputes have been
severely repressed by the authorities and generally contained at a local
level.35 The other factor helping to preserve the status quo is the general
opinion that the longstanding tradition of tolerance between Christians
108
and Muslims should be retained as a cementing national value.36 An

optimistic picture of peaceful and harmonious relations has been
emphasized in official discourse and praised by foreign observers.
In practice, everyday forms of coexistence oscillate between overt
denominational differences and cultural commonalities. Clothing and
food habits are the most usual criteria of differentiation. The most rig-
orously respected norm is the prohibition on eating the meat of ani-
mals not slaughtered in the traditionally accepted religious ways.
Different religious communities often comment in a derogatory way on
one another’s norms, though such talk is also sometimes softened by
jokes and people sometimes play with and contest religious boundar-
ies. Similarly, memories of past conflicts can be softened by stories of
individual friendships. And religious differentiation is counterbalanced
by occasional transgressions of boundaries between groups, for instance
in pilgrimages undertaken by Orthodox Christians and Muslims alike,
springing from their shared beliefs in the spiritual and charismatic
powers of holy figures. Cases of interreligious marriages, involving the
conversion of one of the two spouses, are rare but not unheard of.
Conversion is similarly unusual but is not impossible for individuals
who want to reshape their faith to suit their aspirations.
In the social sphere at large there are a number of common cultural
practices that are not tagged by religious norms. This kind of secular
“interstitial space” plays an important role in the circulation of indi-
viduals beyond denominational identities for the purposes of social and
professional mobility. The currents of religious radicalization have
worked against these “grey areas” by erasing the remnants of reli-
giously-neutral culture and struggling against modern secular norms
by prescribing alternative models of behaviour determined by religious
norms and denominational identities.
Confrontations on regional and national levels

From the perspective of the Ethiopian government, Islamic fundamen-
talism has been a sensitive issue since the violent clashes at the Anwar
Mosque in February 1995. These internal disputes alerted the author-
ities to the development of radical trends linked to external influences.
The suspicion was heightened by regional and global events. In June
1995 foreign Islamic militants backed by the Sudanese regime attempted
to assassinate the Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak during his visit
109
to Addis Ababa. This event provided confirmation that Ethiopia was

not immune to the challenges posed by political Islam in neighbouring
countries.37 The regional proliferation of jihadist insurgent groups, par-
ticularly al-Itihaad al-Islamiyya in Somalia, was observed with scrutiny
and fear by the Ethiopian authorities. The 9/11 terror attacks in New
York put these regional struggles and geopolitical issues into a larger
perspective. Ethiopia’s military intervention in Somalia against the
Union of Islamic Courts, launched in December 2006, was motivated
by hegemonic ambitions and desire for international recognition of
Ethiopia’s stabilizing role in regional security. But instead of being wel-
comed and praised as liberators, the Ethiopian troops fuelled further
tensions that were aggravated by al-Shabaab’s radical insurgency.
In this context, characterized by an upsurge in both internal interre-
ligious confrontations and external extremist threats, the risk of vio-
lent actions by radicalized groups could not be neglected. The govern-
ment has acted against this threat by gathering local intelligence and
using targeted interventions. Muslim organizations have been moni-
tored carefully to prevent contagion of radical thoughts. The govern-
ment has declared more and more openly and frequently its wariness
about Islam, which it perceives as a vehicle for evil foreign influences.
As long as only small groups were targeted in this way, the majority of
Ethiopian Muslims could accept such bold statements from the govern-
ment. However, the situation began to deteriorate in mid-2011, after
the government shifted to a strategy aimed at training Muslim leaders
in constitutional values on religious matters. This was done through
the promotion of an anti-Salafi movement, called al-Ahbash, consid-
ered by its promoters to be moderate and politically acceptable, though
its detractors lambast it as sectarian and contentious. In any case, this
project backfired, sparking an Arab Spring-like protest—the very thing
the government was trying to prevent.
The al-Ahbash controversy and the wave of protest since mid-2011

The confrontation started in mid-July 2011, when a series of regional
workshops were organized by the Ethiopian Supreme Council of
Islamic Affairs with the support of the Ministry of Federal Affairs. The
purpose of these workshops was to instruct community representa-
tives, scholars and heads of mosques on the rights and duties of the
Constitution regarding religious matters, as well as to warn them
110
against the threats of religious extremism, and to train them in how to

refute fundamentalist arguments. Some participants in the workshops
were indignant about what they considered an intolerable attempt to
re-educate Muslims. Another matter of discontent, which became very
controversial thereafter, was the fact that some of the instructors came
from Lebanon and distributed to the attendees teaching materials and
books in Arabic published by the Lebanon-based organization known
as al-Ahbash.
The Association of Islamic Charitable Projects (in Arabic: Jam’iyyat
al-Mashari’ al-Khayriyya al-Islamiyya), founded in the 1930s, became
in the 1980s the official front of the al-Ahbash religious movement,
which became a prominent Sunni faction in Lebanese politics in the
1990s. “Al-Ahbash” is Arabic for “the Ethiopians”, and the movement
is linked to Ethiopia by its founder and ideologist, the prominent
scholar and Sufi sheikh, Abdullah Muhammad Yusuf al-Harari al-
Habashi (1920–2008). The two final attributes (nisba) of his name
indicate he was from the city of Harar in Ethiopia, hence the name of
his followers.
The sheikh left Ethiopia in 1947 after having been involved in the dis-
putes that arose in Harar over the challenges posed by pan-Somali
nationalism and Islamic radicalism (see above). Allegedly, he worked
against secession from Ethiopia and thwarted the development of Salafi-
oriented schools.38 What exactly happened during this agitated period
is still very controversial. Apparently the confrontation was so heated
that Sheikh Abdullah was branded as shaykh al-fitna, “the sheikh of
strife”. Being, like his adversaries, banned from Ethiopia, he travelled
to Saudi Arabia, Jerusalem and Syria, where he completed his spiritual
education. He settled in Lebanon, where he developed his works and
attracted students. In his numerous writings, Sheikh Abdullah al-
Habashi has argued for the plurality of potential interpretations of
Islam, and has favoured interreligious tolerance, the rejection of vio-
lence and submission to secular ruling authorities, as well as acceptance
of modern clothes and behaviour for women. Al-Habashi’s theological
essays are particularly critical of all the tenets of Salafism, which he
attacks as misleading innovations and deviations, wrongfully profess-
ing knowledge of the roots of the religion. He criticizes Salafis for their
misuse of takfir (tagging other Muslims as infidels), for their political
project of Islamic absolutism aiming at the restoration of the caliphate,
and for their justification of violence in pursuit of this purpose.39
111
The doctrine of al-Habashi is a mixture of different lines of thought

(the Shafi’i school of Islamic jurisprudence, Sufism, elements of Shi’ism
and discourses on Christian-Muslim coexistence) that are found in
Ethiopian Islam, but his interpretations are so personal and even sin-
gular that his ideas cannot be considered as a typical expression of
Ethiopian Islam. The other characteristic feature of this movement is
its ability to make use of communication technologies, which has con-
tributed to the rapid expansion of its regional and international net-
works, first through radio programmes, then through early use of the
internet in the form of multilingual online chat groups. Several
branches of the movement were established in Europe and North-
America, where it reached a wide audience40 attracted by its apparently
moderate message.
The meaning of “al-Ahbash” also alludes to the historical tradition
of the first hijra (see above), the migration to Ethiopia of the first fol-
lowers of the Prophet Muhammad, who found asylum in the non-Mus-
lim state and accepted its rules—a story that is meaningful to Muslims
who find themselves in the minority in countries worldwide. In
Ethiopia itself, the sheikh was known and respected as a high profile
scholar, but the presence and influence of his organization were negli-
gible until its recent irruption into public debate.
Behind its apparent political correctness—served by an up-to-date
communication strategy—there lies a highly contentious facet of the al-
Ahbash movement. In its verbal war against its Salafi opponents, al-
Ahbash uses methods castigated by its own doctrine: defamation, dec-
larations of exclusion from Islam, intimidation and political collusion.
Their detractors have condemned them as a propaganda vehicle used
by Syria’s secular, Alawite-dominated regime to combat Islamic funda-
mentalism. Al-Ahbash’s followers are remembered in the Lebanese
public consciousness for having demonstrated in early 2001 in support
of Syria by brandishing clubs, knives and axes. And conflicts fought
with rhetoric and symbols have sometimes become violent in
Lebanon’s contested politico-religious arena. The cycle of violence cul-
minated in 1995 with the assassination of al-Ahbash’s leader, Nizar
Halabi. In 2010 some al-Ahbash-affiliated armed groups fought in the
streets of Beirut against Hezbollah partisans. The relations between the
two parties, both of whom are pro-Syrian, had deteriorated after the
assassination of the former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafiq Hariri in
2005, of which al-Ahbash was suspected.
112
By allowing al-Ahbash clerics to disseminate their teachings in

Ethiopia through a programme of seminars instigated to combat the
development of religious extremist outlooks, the Ethiopian authorities
inadvertently imported some of the explosive issues of the Middle East.
The initial intention was to curb the spreading of Salafi doctrines by
reinvigorating Ethiopian Sufi Islam through the promotion of al-
Ahbash’s new ideas, which were understood to be moderate and eas-
ily acceptable to Ethiopian Muslims since they emanated from an influ-
ential Muslim scholar of Ethiopian origin. For the older generation,
however, al-Ahbash’s ideas revived dormant polemics from the 1950s,
hitting their consciousness like a boomerang. For the majority of the
younger generation, on the other hand, these ideas were completely
new, and it was easy to accept the criticism that they came from a for-
eign, sectarian, quarrelsome tradition.
After the first series of workshops, during which the controversy
began, the Majlis, backed by the government, stuck to its plans by
assigning “certified” preachers to mosques and Islamic schools
throughout the country. Large numbers of Muslims in the capital city
and in different regions expressed their shock and concern. The official
aim of controlling Muslim opinion was perceived as an attempt to
interfere in religious affairs and a violation of the principle of the sep-
aration of state and religion. The authorities took the first expressions
of disagreement by Muslims—which ranged from anger to mockery,
whether voiced in private circles, within mosques or through the
Muslim press—as confirmation of the spreading of radical Islamist
positions. Actually, the feelings of confusion and discontent raised by
the controversy were present among the Muslim population as a
whole, and not just its radical and militant elements, but the develop-
ments provided a context that Salafi militants could exploit, by defend-
ing, quite paradoxically, the liberal principles of secularism, in order
to reach a wider audience.
Instead of seeking a way out of this tangled situation, the govern-
ment remained unyielding in its resolve to fight radicalism and refused
to change its strategy, arguing that its role was to inform the public
about their constitutional rights and duties. It therefore took stronger
measures to curb the organizations that were heading up the protests.
The Aweliyya School in particular was in the midst of the turmoil. As
seen above, this general teaching institution was founded in the 1960s,
with the support of Saudi funds. The school has become the alma
113
mater of many members of the Ethiopian Muslim business elite and it

played an informal role as a rallying point for Muslims before the for-
mal establishment of the Majlis. Since the establishment of the secular
Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia, the state’s policy on Muslim
affairs has consistently relied on recognizing the Majlis as the only offi-
cial, elected and representative body of the Muslim community on
regional and national scales. This institution was empowered with the
capacity to license and monitor all kinds of organizations related to the
practice and teaching of Islam (mosques, schools, charities). Therefore
its role has been contested by the Muslim community, which sees it as
an executive arm of the state, going beyond its accepted role of repre-
senting and advocating the community’s concerns, and trying to con-
trol religious institutions without any written law establishing its
authority to do so.41
Thus, behind the theological dispute on al-Ahbash there was a fun-
damental conflict over the legitimacy and representativeness of religious
institutions in a still partially settled legal framework. For the “Aweliyya
network”, formed by that school’s faculty, students and alumni, the al-
Ahbash controversy offered an opportunity to reaffirm their influence
and legitimacy as respected spokespersons of the Muslim community,
challenging the moral and political authority of the Majlis. In return,
the Majlis used its authority to thwart this well-established, well-known
competitor. The Majlis’s first step, in September 2011, was to withdraw
the licence of the International Islamic Relief Organization, the Saudi
NGO that was funding the Aweliyya School, on the legal grounds that
its action was not confined to humanitarian relief. This was followed,
in December 2011, by the dismissal of the Aweliyya School’s Arabic
teachers and administrators and their replacement by appointees faith-
ful to the Majlis administration.
This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. To Aweliyya’s affil-
iates and sympathizers this decision was an unacceptable abuse of
power. The first consequence was that the negotiations that were being
undertaken behind the scenes to try to find a way out of the crisis were
stopped. The second consequence was a pro-Aweliyya demonstration
in the school’s compound on 4 January 2012, gathering at least 2,500

protestors—the first mass protest since the violent repression of the

2005 post-election unrest. This was the first of a series of demonstra-
tions that went on for more than a year, giving rise to a kind of social
movement unprecedented in the political history of Ethiopia. Almost
114
every Friday after the congregational juma’a prayer the showdown

continued, with Aweliyya School and Anwar Mosque at the epicentre.
The wave of protest spread throughout the great mosques in a number
of towns in Muslim regions. In many cases the crowd overflowed onto
the streets, though in a peaceful manner. The protests focused on issues
of religious freedom, the organizers being careful not to deviate into
other political matters.
The norms of the institutional framework of Ethiopian revolution-
ary democracy prescribe that any concern or demand from civil soci-
ety, if not self-censored, should be channeled and processed through
the language and procedures of the ruling party and its delegated
authorities, such as the Majlis. The government did not react immedi-
ately to the outbreak of protest, as if its intention was to show that it
was lenient in the sphere of denominational issues and respectful of
religious freedom. In official statements, the demonstrations were min-
imized to a problem created by an insignificant number of troublemak-
ers and the government seemed to favour letting local mediation find
a compromise.
The situation deteriorated, however, to the point where an interven-
tion was deemed necessary. When the intensification of the weekly
protests presented the signs of a revolt, the Muslim problem suddenly
became a major matter of concern. The time had come for the govern-
ment to take urgent action and show its determination to enter into a
trial of strength with a significant, though hard to measure, portion of
the Muslim population. On 17 April 2012, three months after the first

demonstrations, Prime Minister Meles Zenawi gave a speech in the

parliament in which he blamed the protesters for promoting the
extremist Salafist ideology, implying they were the agents of a conspir-
acy connected with al-Qaeda jihadist cells that had recently been
uncovered in Arsi and Bale. After exposing the nature of the threat, he
strongly reasserted that the government would not hesitate to crack
down on any group engaged in the disruption of peace and stability in
the country, regardless of their ethnic or religious nature. The govern-
ment followed through on this hard line in the subsequent months,
despite the blatant gap between the apparent reality of the protests and
the seriousness of the charge.
The hardening of the government’s position exacerbated the crisis.
Protesters were infuriated to be demonized as terrorists. The security
forces were sent to break up the demonstrations, and used tear gas and
115
brutal beatings. In most cases, the police’s interventions were not met
by violent reactions from the protesters like stone-throwing or looting,
which would likely have led to even more severe repression, justified
on the grounds of public safety. Indeed, the strength of this social
movement has been the self-control of the crowds, who have stuck to
the strategy of non-violence by remaining impassive in the face of
arrests, injuries and even killings. Facing charges of religious extrem-
ism and terrorism, the protesters presented a contrary face to the pub-
lic and the international media, being conscious that the success of
their movement and the diffusion of their demands depended mainly
on their image.
With this purpose in mind, the protesters adopted new communica-
tion strategies, more or less following the models of recent and ongo-
ing unrest in Arab countries. Calls for demonstration and slogans
spread through SMS messages; news, opinions and grievances circu-
lated on internet social media (Facebook, Twitter); in-depth analyses
of the situation were published on blogs along with comment sections;
and videos of the demonstrations posted on platforms like YouTube
and spread by Ethiopian media (Esat, Bilaltube) were widely watched
in the Ethiopian diaspora. There was also a shift in rhetoric from reli-
gious utterances to secular arguments whose scope was that of a civil
rights struggle. The first demonstrations were characterized by the loud
incantation in unison of “Allahu akbar”, following a mode of expres-
sion that characterized some of the recent movements of protest in
Arab countries like Yemen. But the rallies gradually adopted secular
mottoes like dimsachen yisema (“let our voice be heard”), which
became the brand of the movement. Their communication strategy also
encompassed visual elements, including secular symbols: yellow cards
were waved in warning, white ribbons were worn as signs of peace,
and mouths were plastered to symbolize the lack of freedom.
The religious dimension was not eliminated, however. For example,
mawlid ceremonies were organized under the designation of the
“Programme of Unity and Solidarity” (ye andinetinna ye sedeqa pro-
gramme). This ritual celebration of the birth of the Prophet
Muhammad and his holy deeds is performed by the recitation of spir-
itual poems. It is a popular practice in Sufi Islam, but is firmly rejected
by Salafis. Celebrating this ritual was intended to show that the strug-
gle was not in the hands of religious extremists, guided by anti-Sufism,
but by protesters with a conciliatory view of Ethiopian Islam in all its
116
diversity. However, opponents of the movement criticized the way reli-

gious gatherings were hijacked to disguise political meetings. Another
meaningful development on the politico-religious level was the message
of solidarity sent in May 2012 to Ethiopian Muslim protesters by the
Ethiopian Orthodox Church Synod in exile (in Washington, DC),
which is influential among those in the Ethiopian diaspora who oppose
the EPRDF. This statement reflected the fact that part of the Christian

population—at least those exposed to ideas from the diaspora—did

not consider the Muslim movement to be an Islamist threat but saw it
rather as an expression of civil society’s demand that the state with-
draw its control over religious activities.
The government, in an attempt to find a way out of the crisis, even-
tually accepted one of the protesters’ demands, namely the election of
new members of the Majlis. However, the organization of the election
became the matter of further disputes over whether it should be held
in the offices of kebele (neighbourhood) administrations under state
supervision, or in mosques. Another contentious issue was that the
protest movement institutionalized itself through a self-appointed com-
mittee of representatives, the “Muslim Solution Finding Committee”,
composed of seventeen prominent scholars linked to the Aweliyya net-
work. This initiative was perceived by the authorities as a trick to
bypass the Majlis. In July 2012 the protests intensified before the cel-
ebration of Ramadan (coinciding with the annual African Union meet-
ing in Addis Ababa). And the context became even more strained by
leaks concerning the deterioration of the health of the Prime Minister.
The executive was paralyzed but it could not show any sign of weak-
ening and its reaction became harsher. A wave of arrests was carried
out against the leaders of the protest, their supporters and journalists.
These raids by the police provoked violent clashes the week before the
beginning of the Ramadan.
The Muslim fast went off quietly, however. Its closure, marked by
the celebration of the Id al Fitr, was the occasion of some rallies aimed
at reawakening the protest, but a few days later the death of Prime
Minister Meles Zenawi was announced. The subsequent period of
national mourning was a moment of respect and national unity that
could not be spoiled. During this caesura there was some anxiety about
the formation of a new government, with the protestors hoping that
there would be an amnesty for detainees. However, there was no
power vacuum after the death of Prime Minister Meles and no major
117
change in government strategy. The former Deputy Prime Minister

Haile Mariam Dessalegn was sworn in as the new Prime Minister on
21 September 2012. He expressed his commitment to continue the pol-

icy and legacy of his mentor and predecessor. The elections for the
Majlis were held in the beginning of October 2012 despite the protest-
ers’ complaint that it could not be a fair process as long as their repre-
sentatives were detained. The outcome of the poll, described as “free
and democratic” in the self-serving statements of the authorities, con-
firmed the stranglehold on the Majlis by affiliates of the party.
The protest went on, each side standing firm. On the one hand, the
government remained inflexible in front of the demonstrations. In the
official discourse, the crowds of protesters were once again played
down as representing only a minority of activists. On the other hand,
the stubbornness of the protesters did not decrease, motivated as they
were by their collective determination to defend their religious rights
and have their imprisoned leaders released. In October 2012 a new
wave of demonstrations led to violent clashes in Wollo. In November
the federal court charged the members of the self-appointed arbitration
committee and other leaders of the protest with plotting acts of terror-
ism and attempting to establish an Islamic state. In January 2013 the
protest was launched again on the anniversary of the movement. The
authorities responded with a documentary film aired on national tele-
vision aimed at denouncing the threat of “jihadist movements” (jiha-
dawi harekat) on Ethiopia by drawing parallels between the Ethiopian
Muslim protest movement and Islamist insurrections in other African
countries (al-Shabaab in Somalia, Boko Haram in Nigeria), notwith-
standing the fact that the Ethiopian movement has been largely non-
violent, non-underground and open-faced. The conspiracy theory pre-
sented by this film corresponded to the indictment against the detained
figures of the movement, before any trials had taken place. The pro-
testers and their supporters condemned the methods used by the
authorities for lambasting Muslim dissenters, through judicial deci-
sions and media coverage based on groundless fabrications. They con-
tinued to express their indignation loudly in the mosques’ yards, in the
streets and on online social networks. Another major development, in
July 2013, was the killing of a pro-government Muslim preacher in
Dessie, Sheikh Nuru. The government blamed extremists for this
action and organized demonstrations to condemn the protesters’ drift
towards terrorism.
118
Conclusion
The outcome of the trial of journalists and leaders of the protest may
determine whether the movement will persist or fade away. The fact
that this trial has been postponed indicates a will to give a chance to
mediation. Already in the recent past some opposition figures charged
with serious offences have been released or allowed to go into exile.
From the government’s point of view, defendants who are convicted
and given harsh sentences could become martyr-type figures in whose
name a more radical movement might arise. From the protesters’
point of view, as long as they are protesting in the name of general
and secular principles they can keep the advantage of the positive
image they have gained in national and international public opinion.
However, the actors and observers of the movement should be care-
ful not to let a politically correct agenda become a façade used to hide
more radical aims.
This, at least, is the situation as of July 2013. It is still too early to
assess the long-term effects of this social and religious movement,
which is unprecedented in Ethiopia. But what can be said is that
through their political mobilization a significant number of Ethiopian
Muslims have opened a new chapter in the process of their integration
into the Ethiopian nation. There has been a considerable evolution
indeed since the first half of the twentieth century, when Muslims were
assigned the status of “tolerated aliens” under the theocratic state. The
recognition of their fully-fledged citizenship was partially initiated by
the revolutionary military regime and was then completed by the fed-
eral regime, which adopted a secular system of government. However,
the regulation of relations between the state and religious communities
still needs some fine-tuning. While all religious communities need to
recognize the necessary limitations of their activities under the rule of
law, the balance between actions undertaken in public life and private
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4
GO PENTE! THE CHARISMATIC RENEWAL

OF THE EVANGELICAL MOVEMENT IN ETHIOPIA1
Emanuele Fantini
The significant growth of the Evangelical movement in Ethiopia in the

last twenty years has been officially certified by the 2007 Population
and Housing Census, counting almost 14 million Protestants, 18.6 per
cent of the population, compared with 43.5 per cent Orthodox
Christians, 33.9 per cent of Muslims and minor percentages of
Catholics and traditional faiths.2 As a consequence Ethiopia is the
African country with the highest numbers of Evangelicals in absolute
terms, more than in countries more often associated with their pres-
ence, such as Nigeria, Uganda, Kenya, and the Democratic Republic of
Congo.3 In the early 1960s, Protestants were estimated to represent less
than 1 per cent of the population,4 rising to 5.5 per cent in the 1984
census and 10.2 per cent by the 1994 one. This shows that the
Ethiopian Protestants have the highest growth rate of all the religious
denominations in the country and represent “one of the fastest grow-
ing evangelical churches in the World”.5
Evangelical Christianity is not a new phenomenon for the Ethiopian
society. Its presence in the country dates back to the nineteenth century
123
with the arrival of the first missionaries. However, the rapid expansion
it has witnessed in the last two decades represents one of the major
forces contributing to reshaping of Ethiopian society and the equilib-
rium between Christianity and Islam in the whole Horn of Africa. In
spite of its relevance and its sensitiveness, the Evangelical movement in
Ethiopia has received little attention in academic studies or from
national or international observers. The occultation of church records
and member profiles during the persecution by the Derg communist
regime contributed to relegation of Pentecostalism among under-doc-
umented social phenomena. Accounts by foreign missionaries and
church members remain the only available sources to retrace the his-
tory of the Evangelical movement in Ethiopia. Most of them are lim-
ited to the local context of a single mission or church, while only a few
rise to the level of national relevance.6 The reestablishment of religious
freedom in 1991 under the current regime contributed not only to the
considerable expansion of the Evangelical movement, but also to
retracing of sources, collection of testimony and consolidation of
archives. This material has supported more recent and ambitious
attempts to draw a comprehensive history of the origin and evolution
of the movement as a whole,7 providing an account of the various nar-
ratives as well as of the meaning and political implications of their dif-
ferences and contradictions,8 and exploring the place of Evangelicals
in the broader context of religious pluralization and competition in
Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa.9
Comprehensive studies and analysis of the Evangelical movement in
Ethiopia are further challenged by its plasticity and internal pluralism.
The present contribution will therefore begin by addressing the issue
of definition and denominations, in order to highlight different groups
of churches officially recorded under the above statistics. It will subse-
quently identify common features that the movement shares with
global Pentecostalism as well as those peculiar to the Ethiopian con-
text in light of the specificity of the historical trajectory of the country.
Finally, it will point to the most pressing issues posed to contemporary
Ethiopian society by the rise of the Evangelical movement and its char-
ismatic renewal.
The “Pente label”: historical roots, different groups and common trends
Protestants, Evangelical, Pentecostal, Born Again (dagem lidet in
Amharic) Christians: in current popular speech in Ethiopia all these
124
GO PENTE
terms are used interchangeably and frequently subsumed in the vernac-

ular expression Pente. Internal divisions within the movement, the
blurring of theological differences between main denominations, and
the mushrooming of new churches and ministries increase the difficulty
of finding a common definition and uniform categorization. The con-
troversy surrounding its definition or even its nature as a homogeneous
object of analysis might constitute a first feature that the Ethiopian
case shares with the global movements described as Neo/Post/New-
Pentecostalism or Charismatic Christianity.10
Therefore, in order to grasp the multifaceted character of the current
Pente wave in Ethiopia it is first of all necessary to clarify the different
typologies of groups encompassed under the official label—or Babel
definition—of “Protestants” used in Ethiopian statistics, ranging from
the traditional Evangelical denominations implanted by missionaries
to small independent churches established around the charisma of a
single pastor.
Traditional Evangelical denominations. The great majority of believers

belong to a few big churches descended from the activities of early
European and North American missionaries, like the Lutheran Mekane
Yesus Church and the Baptist Kale Heywet Church (both with over 4
million members) or the smaller Mennonite Meseret Kristos (around
230,000 members).11 The presence of foreign Protestant missionaries in
the country is recorded since the nineteenth century, with the arrival of
the Church Missionary Society (Anglican) and Swedish and German
missionaries with a Lutheran background under Emperor Tewodros,
and the first establishment in 1904 of an Evangelical community in
Wollega. Their activity developed discreetly in the presence of the old-
est and strongest autonomous Christian church in Sub-Saharan Africa,
the Ethiopian Tewahedo Orthodox Church. It was only during the
reign of Haile Selassie that missionaries gained a significant presence.
Between 1918 and 1931 several missionary societies, like the Sudan
Interior Mission, established missions in Ethiopia, particularly in the
south-western region, which were the beginnings of modern missionary
activities, combining evangelization with the provision of basic social
services. Following the parenthesis of the Italian occupation, during
which there was official persecution of the Evangelical Churches lead-
ing to the expulsion of foreign missionaries, their presence was again
legally r ecognized through the “Regulations Governing the Activities of
125
Missions” issued by Haile Selassie in 1944. The Emperor considered the

missionaries as allies in his efforts at modernization of the country, par-
ticularly because of their educational efforts. However, in order not to
compromise his privileged relationship with the Orthodox Church, he
divided the country between “Open Areas”, where missionaries’ evan-
gelization and development work was allowed, and “Closed Areas”,
where only the Orthodox Church was allowed to operate. Practical
demarcation of these areas was entrusted to the Ministry of Education.
The “Open Areas” were mostly the various peripheries of the Empire:
the southern and western regions as well as the eastern lowlands, pre-
dominantly Muslim. The “Closed Areas” roughly covered the northern
and central highlands. As for the capital Addis Ababa, it was consid-
ered a free territory for all denominations.
The expulsion of foreign missionaries by the Italians had accelerated
the transfer of responsibility to an Ethiopian leadership, which later
favoured the growth of national evangelical churches. Thus, the estab-
lishment in 1959 of the Ethiopian Evangelical Church of Mekane
Yesus shows the desire of Ethiopians to create their own national
church and emancipate it from the influence of foreign missionaries,
incorporating within Lutheran theology some traits borrowed from the
local culture and Orthodox religious practices such as child baptism.
This was followed by the creation of the Meserete Kristos Church in
1962 and the Kale Heywet Church in 1963. Within the Ethiopian con-
text, all these denominations have been traditionally labelled as
Evangelical, and to this day they remain the biggest and most influent
of all Evangelical denominations. They have inherited from their mis-
sionary past a strong geographical implantation in the “Open Areas”
of traditional Evangelical presence, such as Wollega in Western Oromia,
Gambella and the southern areas of the country nowadays incorpo-
rated in the Southern Nations, Nationalities and People Region
(SNNPR),12 as well as a significant commitment to humanitarian activ-
ities through their “developmental wings” working in partnership with
international faith-based NGOs.
Classical Pentecostal churches. A second group of churches regrouped

under the label “Protestant” are those stemming from the Pentecostal
movement that penetrated Ethiopian Christian communities from the
mid-1960s onwards. With a higher level of autonomy from any exter-
nal influence when compared with the traditional Evangelical groups,
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Pentecostalism in Ethiopia rapidly moved towards the creation of

national independent churches. The first Pentecostal missionaries in
Ethiopia were Anna-Liisa and Sanfrid Mattson who established the
Free Finnish Foreign Mission in 1951 and started to operate in Addis
Ababa in 1956. They were later followed by the Swedish Pentecostals
amongst whom the most influential was the Philadelphia Church
Mission founded by Karl and Ruth Ramstrand in 1960 in Awasa.
In parallel to these initiatives, the Pentecostal movement witnessed
autonomous “multiple beginnings”13 promoted by national groups
directly or indirectly connected to missionary work. The revivals sprang
within the student circles in Addis Ababa and other towns like Nazareth,
Harar and Awasa. Two moments can be considered pivotal in bringing
together these different experiences and shaping their sense of belong-
ing to a common movement. The first was the Awasa Conference orga-
nized by the Swedish Pentecostal Mission in 1956, gathering for the
first time a great number of young believers and sympathizers from all
around the country and exposing them to the teachings of Pentecostal
doctrines. The second was the prayer meetings promoted by Addis
Ababa University students which culminated in the four-day Conference
of 1966. From there emerged an Ethiopian leadership affirming the
need to consolidate the movement around a common vision and uni-
tary framework, emancipating it from missionary control. The most
relevant step following these gatherings was the decision in 1967 to
form a new church, the Ethiopian Full Gospel Believers Church (Mulu
Wengel in Amharic), which became the first independent Pentecostal
church in Ethiopia and still today represents the largest of the tradi-
tional Pentecostal denominations. It was followed by two others, the
Ghennet Church and the Heywet Birhan Church, which had been
started through the work of Finnish and Swedish missionaries and were
to become autonomous in 1977 and 1978.
In their initial stages, these churches were an urban phenomenon,
mainly attracting young and educated believers. The leadership con-
sisted not of people raised within traditional Evangelical churches but
rather of university students coming from an Orthodox background14
and later exposed to the Finnish Pentecostal or the Philadelphia mis-
sion. Their dynamism was pivotal in influencing the evolution of the
broader Pente movement beyond the borders of their respective
churches. Later, the commitment shown by Pentecostals in under-
ground religious activities during the period of Derg persecution con-
127
tributed to spread their beliefs, styles and practices to other mainline

Evangelical denominations. Even today prominent figures and groups
that emerged during the Pentecostal renewal of the 1960s play a lead-
ing role in the consolidation of the whole Pente movement and its
expansion through the establishment of new churches.15
New independent churches and ministries. A third wave of the Pente

movement could be traced to the climate of religious freedom created
by the 1995 Federal Constitution, which led to the formation of sev-
eral neo-Pentecostal or neo-Charismatic independent churches. These
groups can be associated with the broad phenomenon of new African
“spirit” movements, encompassing the huge variety of “divergent
African churches that emphasize the working of the Spirit in the
church, particularly with ecstatic phenomena like prophecy and speak-
ing in tongues, healing and exorcism”.16 Just as elsewhere in the world,
the picture of these groups in Ethiopia is rapidly and constantly chang-
ing because of the tumultuous proliferation of new cults, making the
changes hard to catch. The most prominent churches, in the spotlight
for their public visibility and activism, seem to be the Beza International
Church, the You-Go City Church, the Exodus Apostolic Reformation
Church and the Unic 7000 Church.
These groups have originated mainly out of the autonomous initiative
of the organized clergy, usually with a background of militancy within
traditional Evangelical or Pentecostal churches but also influenced by
living and training abroad, in countries like Kenya, South Africa or the
USA, where believers had gone either to escape Derg persecutions or to
pursue theological studies. In a break with traditional denominations,
they usually do not belong to the main network representing Evangelical
and Pentecostal groups, the Evangelical Churches Fellowship of Ethiopia
(ECFE). As an alternative coordinating space, several of these leaders
recently created the Ethiopian Pastors Conference.
In spite of limited membership and dimensions—often confined to a
single see in Addis Ababa or other cities—these churches are excep-
tionally vocal and active. At ease with modern media like satellite TV
and the internet and backed up by professional fellowships or para-
church activities, they are particularly effective in attracting young and
educated people as well as the middle class of main urban centres. This
dynamism and public visibility should be accurately weighted in order
not to overestimate their influence and penetration, especially outside
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Addis Ababa and other main urban areas. These churches seem to rely
strongly on the international sphere. They rely on their leaders’ and
members’ contacts abroad, in particular within the Ethiopian diaspora.
They are eager to establish branches in the US and Europe—increas-
ingly considered as new lands for re-evangelization—and to affiliate
with international networks in order to address foreign communities
living in Ethiopia, mostly other African nationalities but also the
recently immigrated Indian or Chinese communities.
Becoming Pente. Nowadays, in popular speech, all these different

churches and groups are known as Pente. The genesis of the term is not
completely clear. Most sources agree that it appeared for the first time
in the aftermath of the incidents that took place in Debre Zeit in 1967,
following an attack by local residents on a gathering of hundreds of
youths belonging to the Pentecostal movement.17 Under the Derg it was
used to label traditional Pentecostals with a mocking tone, and it con-
tributed to the political persecution of all the Protestant churches.18
Later, Pente became the popular term to designate the broader spec-
trum of groups included in the official statistics under the label of
Protestants. Having lost most of its disparaging connotation, the term
seems nowadays to be accepted and even adopted by the majority of
the Pente themselves, although most of them would prefer the term
“Born Again Christians”, which has fewer overtones.
So we will use the term Pente as a broad definition encompassing all
the above different denominations, when not referring to a specific
church typology—Evangelical, Pentecostal, neo-Pentecostal or neo-
Charismatic—so as to analyze this pluralistic movement as a unitary
social phenomenon. Undoubtedly, from an institutional perspective the
Pente movement remains fragmented. Despite appeals to unity by sev-
eral church leaders and intellectuals and the fact that most of the
believers belong to a few big churches, Pente expansion proceeds
mainly through the division and multiplication of groups. In 2007, 628
different Pente denominations, churches, ministries and faith-based
organizations were listed in the register of the Ministry of Justice.19
These groups vary considerably in size, relevance and record of histor-
ical presence in the country. Most of them remain minor entities, but
their vast majority—around 85 per cent—does not belong to any of the
two bodies (EFCE and Ethiopian Pastors Conference) trying to coor-
dinate and officially represent the Pente constellation.
129
This fragmentation can mostly be interpreted as the result of per-

sonal initiatives and agendas of religious entrepreneurs rather than dis-
putes on theological issues. In fact, the choice of the term Pente aims
specifically at reflecting the Charismatic Renewal that, in Ethiopia like
elsewhere in the continent, “has fundamentally altered the character of
African Christianity”.20 In the last twenty years, traditional Pentecostal
theological positions and spiritual and liturgical practices, as well as
Charismatic emphasis on the Gifts of the Spirit, have spread to main-
line Evangelical denominations and nowadays characterize the whole
Pente movement.21 The blurring of doctrinal differences and the emerg-
ing of common worship styles are further facilitated by circulation and
pulpit sharing among pastors of different cults, as well as by the reli-
gious nomadism of believers, often shifting among, and attending ser-
vices in, various churches.
So we must investigate the Pente movement as a coherent phenome-
non, characterized by a common repertoire of theologies, imaginaries,
and notions as well as by techniques of organization and proselytism,
shaped by the encounter with Ethiopia’s specific historical trajectory.
The global Gifts of the Spirit: innovation and modernity

The Charismatic Renewal blowing within the Pente movement in the
last years has contributed to the spread of the religious repertoire com-
monly associated with global Pentecostalism: reference to Baptism in
the Holy Spirit with its significance of radical transformation of the
individual and society manifested through the gifts of the Spirit, such
as speaking in tongues, prophecy, healings, and exorcism; the interpre-
tation of prayer was personal and intimate, and seen as an immediate
communication with God; the performative power of the faith aimed
at satisfying desires and vanquishing fears through divine protection
and empowerment. All these typical Pentecostal notions have extended
to the older more traditional Evangelical Churches like Mekane Yesus
and Kale Hiwot.
This is accompanied by rejection of social and religious practices
consolidated within the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, like burial cere-
monies and other rituals, commonly associated by Pentes with “local
tradition” and “culture” and therefore regarded as deviating from the
original meaning and truth of the Scriptures. On the contrary, the
modern and innovative character of worship styles and practises are
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GO PENTE
considered by Pente followers as a key factor behind the success and

expansion of their movement. Therefore, in reaction to the archaism
of the use of Ge’ez by the Orthodox Church, Pentes use local lan-
guages in preaching and ceremonies, in order to render religious mes-
sages more intelligible to the people. Paradoxically, they also switch to
English as a sign of distinction and adhesion to the ethos of global
modernity. In parallel to this, building on the translation into local lan-
guages and dissemination of the Bible inaugurated by early missionar-
ies, Pentes encourage constant reading and studying of the Scriptures,
both individual and in group, as well as their literal interpretation.
The innovative character and appeal of Pente religious messages
have been further enhanced through the introduction of electric musi-
cal instruments and new styles of singing and gospel choir, as well as
of more dynamic and emotional registers in preaching and worship. A
strong tradition of resort to modern media, from Radio Voice of the
Gospel since the 1960s to satellite TV channels and the internet in cur-
rent times, has been pivotal in contributing to the diffusion and circu-
lation of Pente messages. Historically radio waves were crucial in over-
coming the barriers between “Open Areas” and “Closed Areas” set by
Haile Selassie. Nowadays the internet and satellite TVs are decisive in
reinforcing participation in transnational Pentecostal networks and
transmitting ideas and messages that can circumvent the strict regula-
tions of the national media system.
In terms of organizational structure, most of the Pente churches,
particularly those belonging to the new neo-Charismatic wave, are
autonomous and not accountable to any institutional hierarchy. Their
flexibility is further increased by the integration of traditional liturgi-
cal activities through the action of a vast array of ministries, para-
church bodies and the like. Pentes cultivate an articulated relationship
with the world of development NGOs. Mainline Evangelical churches
have created their own development wings. Mekane Yesus runs a
Development and Social Service Commission and Meserete Kristos
Church its Relief and Development Association. Those work in close
cooperation with North European and American faith-based organiza-
tions, such as Norwegian Church Aid or World Vision, in providing
basic social services and carrying out humanitarian work.22 Other
churches, like Mulu Wengel, mainly rely on believers’ funds to support
their developmental wings. More recently, the preaching of several pas-
tors and groups has absorbed the approach of the global fight against
131
poverty that is promoted by international institutions23 and adopted in

the official government discourse, discussing notions such as good gov-
ernance, accountability and the fight against corruption. This common
focus feeds a growing practice of conferences, workshops and training
sessions animated by religious leaders, who address church members
as well as civil servants and government institutions.
This combination of theological notions, worship styles and organi-
zational structures is intensely oriented towards proselytization, target-
ing not only other Christian communities but also Muslim constituen-
cies.24 Historically the youth and student milieu has been the elective
territory for evangelization by Evangelical and Pentecostal churches,
through pioneer experiences like the SIM Youth Centre and the
Mekane Yesus Hostel targeting the students of the Addis Ababa
University campus. This tradition has been revived by the Ethiopian
Evangelical Student Association (EVASU), currently operating on all
the country’s university campuses, facilitating inter-denominational
cooperation and contact among believers.
This focus has allowed the Pente movement to establish a strong
presence in urban areas and to gain the adhesion of its educated milieu.
Thanks in particular to the dynamism of the first young Pentecostals,25
the movement has managed to rise from the peripheries where mission-
aries and traditional evangelical churches had been originally confined,
reaching and flourishing at the geographical, political and economic
centre of the country. Thus, even though the latest census portrays the
Protestant churches as based mainly in rural areas,26 Pentes are today
primarily perceived as an urban phenomenon.
This significant growth of the Ethiopian Pente movement can be
partially explained by a feature that it shares with other forms of
global Pentecostalism: its effectiveness in elaborating religious and cul-
tural responses to the process of social transformation associated with
modernity and globalization. With the growing impact of globalization
and modernization on the African continent, the flexibility of
Pentecostalism seems to provide for a “contextualised Christianity”,
through a “style of worship and liturgy (…) that offers tangible help in
this world as well as in the next”.27 Salvation becomes “holistic”.28
Tensions surrounding a certain idea of modernity embraced by the
educated elite and ruling class29 and its contradictory and paradoxical
results for the whole society30 have traditionally been a main driver of
Ethiopian historical developments. In this context, Pentecostalism has
provided adequate spiritual notions and moral codes to fulfil the quests
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and aspirations of the university students who have been confronted

by the process of modernization initiated by Haile Selassie.31
The current expansion of the Pente movement seems to confirm the
“selective affinity” between Pentecostalism and globalization described
by Harvey Cox in reference to Max Weber’s theory of the Protestant
ethic and the spirit of capitalism.32 Similarly to what was observed by
Ruth Marshall concerning the Pentecostal revolution in Nigeria, the
Ethiopian Pente churches have been successful in finding an effective
response to the context of radical insecurity—material, political, ideo-
logical, and ontological—linked to the insertion of the country within
the process of neo-liberal globalization.33 The answer seems to be artic-
ulated through resorting to a new syntax, elaborated by mobilizing and
originally combining the political imaginary of the public space (related
to the “modern” themes of good governance, leadership, and so on)
and the “force of the invisible” (the power of the spirits, healing, mir-
acles and the fight between the realm of God and the realm of Evil).34
The specificities of the Ethiopian case: autochthony, persecutions,

and coexistence with a federal and developmental state
In associating Pentes with concepts like modernity and globalization,
caution should be observed to avoid rigid determinism and univocal
explanations of complex and ultimately intimate phenomena. In fact,
some of the most intriguing analyses of the relationship between polit-
ical innovation and religious identity—in Africa35 like elsewhere in the
World36—have demonstrated how these are part of a multifaceted sin-
gle phenomenon rather than separated forces. They show an ambiva-
lent relationship of exchange and “antagonistic interdependence”37
around the issue of modernity, which has to be investigated in the light
of its insertion within the historical trajectory of each country.
An autochthonous movement. When it is compared with the rest of

Sub-Saharan Africa, the first specific feature of an Ethiopian history in
the religious sphere is the absence of the colonial factor and the exis-
tence of a long established autochthonous Christian church. The
Ethiopian Orthodox Church has been co-existent with the project of
state building through the assimilation of all the different peripheries
to the Abyssinian core of the Empire.38 Its privileged relationship with
the Ethiopian government and the popular consideration of Orthodox
133
Christianity as a key component structuring the national identity of

Ethiopians—although highly controversial, because failing to accom-
modate the historical presence of Islam in the country—initially forced
Pentes to operate through light structures and a low profile.39 Later it
contributed to the popular perception of them as being alien to the
national culture and driven by foreign influence and interests, with all
the negative connotations that such a perception implies.
As a reaction, the Pentes are eager to stress the autochthonous char-
acter of their movement and are proud to portray their churches as truly
autonomous, stressing the Ethiopian nationality of their historical
leaders. The assertion is usually summarized by the motto “the Gospel
for Ethiopia by Ethiopians”, implying also the idea that “native minis-
ters engage in evangelistic activities more effectively than foreigners.”40
This narrative might contrast with the traditional portrayal of
Pentecostalism as a global movement, charged with a transnational
drive and “able to escape from the aura of transcendence attributed to
the sovereign state”.41 However, the indigenous nature of the Pente
movement is not derived from the incorporation or the prevalence
within its cult of elements pertaining to local cultures or traditions.
Rather it is affirmed by emphasizing the independence of Ethiopian
Pente churches from alien forces, the diminishing role of pastors of
other African nationalities and the financial support received from
abroad. Thus Pentes tend to describe their movement not as a religion
imported from abroad, but rather as a response inspired by the Spirit
to demands arising from within the Ethiopian society. These narratives
might be accentuated to counter the common feeling of mistrust
towards foreign influence, perceived as a threat to national cohesion
and uniqueness, as well as a precaution to avoid drawing excessive
attention and suspicions from a government that has a problematic
relationship with the Ethiopian diaspora in the USA.
The insistence on the autochthonous character of the Pente move-
ment does not imply that it developed in isolation from the rest of the
world. On the contrary, it underlines the ability to evolve at the inter-
face between transnational flows and local aspirations, appropriating
global ideas and interpreting them to reform existing religious reper-
toires. This attitude was for instance evident during the emergence of
the indigenous Pentecostal leadership within the student movement
during the 1960s in dialectical relationship with foreign missionaries
and the Orthodox Church. Nowadays, a similar assertive attitude
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GO PENTE
towards the international sphere could be found in the programmes of

re-evangelization of the West that animate Ethiopian Pente followers
and their churches abroad, although official ambitions have until now
been only partially translated into practice.
The persecution experience and its consequences. The perception of

the Pente as an alien movement, with a destabilizing potential for
national identity and social cohesion, has been among the causes of a
long record of persecution. Historical marginalization of early mission-
aries under imperial rule was later followed by their expulsion during
the Italian occupation. Despite the official relaxation by Haile Selassie
through the “Regulations Governing the Activities of Missions”, ostra-
cism persisted after the war and was fuelled by the rise of Pentecostals
in the 1960s. Perceived as heretical and sectarian, they were the victims
of official condemnation by the Orthodox hierarchy and of popular
distrust on the part of Orthodox believers, occasionally leading also to
physical attacks. This was matched with institutional harassment by
the government, which rejected the official registration of the Mulu
Wengel Church in 1967 in spite of the existing legislation. The episode
was followed by years of considerable oppression, including mass
detentions, physical abuse and public defamations. In some cases, the
first Pentecostals were even marginalized by mainstream Evangelical
churches and missionaries, worried by the “emotional stirring” that
were claimed to emanate through the gifts of Holy Spirit.42
The persecution increased under the Derg regime, despite initial sym-
pathy for the 1974 Revolution in some Pente circles. Pentes were
attracted by the message of liberation from imperial oppression in the
peripheries where they had their traditional constituencies and appre-
ciated the occasion to put an end to the longstanding dominant posi-
tion of Orthodox Christianity as state religion. However, complying
with Communist orthodoxy in forbidding all public religious manifes-
tation and activism, the Derg shut down churches and congregations
and imprisoned Pente leaders. Among the most serious events was the
execution of Gudina Tumsa, Secretary General of the Mekane Yesus
Church, in 1979.43 Pente churches, like other religious groups, were
forced into underground activities and home church practices.
The extent and degree of persecution varied from church to church,
according to the different stances taken on the Revolution, the strategy
of cooptation or repression adopted by the Derg and the relations
135
established by religious groups with liberation movements, such as the

links between the Mekane Yesus Church and the Oromo Liberation
Front guerrillas.44 But nowadays Pentes from different churches and
backgrounds seem to share a common narrative on the experience of
persecution. The tradition of oppression is echoed in the comments on
clashes and incidents that sporadically erupt in the country with other
religious denominations, as well as of the social ostracism by relatives
and friends that the Pente disciples still complain of as a consequence
of their conversion.
Moreover, recurrent arguments in this narrative underline the para-
doxical effects of persecution in reinforcing the strength of the Pente
spiritual message and its diffusion throughout the country. In fact,
marginalization contributed to the forging among early Pentecostals an
identity of “holy, separated and messianic communities”45 and later to
produce a “narrative of moral superiority on account of the suffered
persecution”46 by different governments and other religious groups.
This identity was completed through adhesion to strict moral codes, in
particular regarding sexual behaviour and abstinence from smoking,
alcohol and traditional dances. Often explicitly associating persecution
with the experience of the apostles and the first Christian communities,
Pente followers consider it as a necessary sacrifice for the spread of
their message. As a consequence, these experiences reinforce their wor-
ship and evangelizing, and improve their ability to survive in hostile
contexts. Their small and autonomous congregations are animated by
a strong sense of solidarity and ecumenical collaboration developed
during the Derg regime. That experience has been interpreted as cru-
cial in opening the way for the diffusion of Pentecostal practices and
styles throughout mainstream Evangelical churches, given their partic-
ularly active role in the underground churches. More broadly, it con-
tributed to laying of solid foundations for the expansion of the whole
movement in the last twenty years.
Ambivalent relations with ethnic federalism. In terms of identity and

allegiance, the Pente movement entertains an ambivalent relationship
with the federal structure of the contemporary Ethiopian state. In fact,
this arrangement is characterized by a contradictory approach to reli-
gion. On the one hand, the official discourse aims at separating ethnic
and religious boundaries, in an attempt at depoliticize the second.
Among the criteria used to identify “belonging to nations, nationalities
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GO PENTE
or people” the federal Constitution quotes the sharing of “intelligible

language, common culture, similar customs, common psychological
make up and predominantly contiguous territory”,47 without mention-
ing the religious factor. On the other hand, as Østebø writes, through-
out Ethiopian history religion and ethnicity “have mutually informed
each other, contributing to the creation and reinforcement of both eth-
nic and intra-religious boundaries”.48
The consequences of this contradiction are operating within the
Pente movement, whose plasticity nurtures a plurality of identities and
allows multiple and negotiated belongings. In some cases, the Pente
message promotes a discourse of individualization and the creation of
networks going beyond ethnic boundaries. Being Born-Again entails a
break with the past and its burden in terms of traditions and divisions,
it promotes belonging to a new community superior to ethnic identity,
the “kingdom of priest and holy nation” announced in the Scriptures.49
Moreover, Pentes are often associated with a message of personal sal-
vation, social atomization and individual separation radically different
from the ideological construction behind ethnic federalism, which
respects community group rights before those of the individual. The
Pente message fits well with the aspiration to embrace modernity that
is expressed by the educated young generations. It also accommodates
the feelings of the urban and cosmopolitan Ethiopians of mixed origins
who fail to pigeonhole themselves within the official ethnic structure.
Furthermore, in its more radical declension, it provides an opportunity
to subvert traditional or institutional forms of power and knowledge,
offering an “alternative civic identity” in the context of a closed polit-
ical space.50
In other cases, the use of local languages in preaching and reading
the Scriptures, or the condemnation of traditions and superstitions
associated with the Orthodox Church, contributes to reinforcing the
identity of specific ethnic groups. In traditional areas of early mission-
aries and later Evangelical and Pentecostal presence, like those of the
current SNNPR or the Wollega zone in Oromia region, Pente is the
religion of the majority.51 In these areas, while the conversion to
Orthodox Christianity was traditionally associated with military incor-
poration and political assimilation of the local elites, missionaries’
schools represented the only opportunity to be educated in a non-
Amharic and non-Abyssinian context for people belonging to subaltern
groups. Hence, Pente affiliation could represent an opportunity to bol-
137
ster one’s opposition to the Amhara and later Tigrean political estab-
lishment associated with the Orthodox Church. But it could also con-
tribute to fuelling and amplifying intra-ethnic conflicts, like those that
repeatedly erupted in Jimma (western Oromia) between 2006 and
2011 or the inter-ethnic tensions around the issues of autochthony and
allogeny of different religious groups.
These examples show how the plasticity of the Pente movement and
its horizontal organization in autonomous and relatively independent
churches allow for an effective tinkering with identities. This enables
many Ethiopians to respond to the challenge of structuring themselves
as political and moral subjects within the contradictory structure of eth-
nic federalism, that is, to reconcile (post)modern aspirations channelled
by globalization with “traditional” allegiances. Paradoxes and ongoing
tensions between these contradictory paths are exemplified by the con-
troversy surrounding the creation of ethnic branches of national
churches, like the Oromo groups reorganizing themselves within the
Mekane Yesus Church or the student associations demanding worship
and services in local languages instead of Amharic or English.
Coexistence with a secular and developmental state. The contradictory

relationship with the ethnic federalist architecture of the state contrib-
utes to the ambivalence of Pente engagement in public and civic affairs.
Under confrontational regimes, like those of Haile Selassie and the
Derg, their political stand was relatively clear. Pentes rejected and
opposed government interference in religious affairs. Thus their fight
for religious freedom represented an alternative to compliance with the
regime and later offered a “model of civil disobedience with their effec-
tive underground structures”.52
However, this stance did not translate into the elaboration of an ide-
ological and systematic political alternative to the Derg regime. In fact,
as long as the government did not conflict and interfere with their
faith, several leaders of the Pente movement continued to serve as civil
servants in prominent positions under the Derg. They were particularly
appreciated for their professional skills and educated profiles, but
refrained from joining the one party state and disclosing their religious
faith.53 Several of them pursued their careers under the present regime.
Attitudes towards civic engagement and the political system are less
sharp within the current context of religious freedom. On the one
hand, the new climate allows an increased presence of Pentes in the
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GO PENTE
public space. It facilitates a shift from the millenarian refusal of com-

promise with the World, with which Pentecostalism is often associated,
to a new season of public engagement, with churches encouraging
active involvement of believers in politics and economic development.
This shift is often pursued in the name of a holistic approach to salva-
tion that aims at reconciling the spiritual and material dimensions.
Thus, the consolidation of local political leaderships from different eth-
nic backgrounds within the federal framework has led to the promo-
tion of political leaders at the regional (particularly in southern and
western areas) and national level, whose Pente faith is widely known.54
The institutional recognition of the freedom of religious association
allowed the formation of professional fellowships promoting Christian
politicians, as well as lobbying activities by groups like the Christian
Lawyers Association or workshops, training and prayer sessions for
Pente political leaders.
On the other hand, the secular attitude of the current government
has inspired a cautious control of the church potential in terms of
political mobilization. Religious affairs are officially relegated to the
private sphere and assigned to the scrupulous monitoring of the
Ministry of Federal Affairs. That ministry’s mandate consists in the
institutional cooptation of religious leaders to promote social cohesion
in the country, especially on sensitive occasions like elections, and to
settle interdenominational conflicts. This policy has until now pre-
vented contentious political stands by various churches, direct involve-
ment of pastors in the political arena or the founding of parties with
religious inspiration. As a result ethnic allegiance remains the main
vector for political mobilization. Besides, the rigid ideology of the rul-
ing party coalition, the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic
Front (EPRDF), shelters it from pressures that could arise from reli-
gious groups. Hence Pente believers divide themselves equally between
government and opposition coalitions. And they tend not to publicize
any direct political engagement, in order not to compromise their
churches with a single political faction, as that would offer additional
grounds for internal divisions within the movement.
The originality of the Ethiopian historical trajectory also helps shape
the relationship of the Pente movement with the economic sphere.
Pentecostalism, in Africa like elsewhere in the world, has been tradi-
tionally associated with a neoliberal economic approach. Some ana-
lysts see a direct cause and effect connection between the two phenom-
139
ena, considering Pentecostalism as organic to neo-liberalism through

the forging of individualistic and flexible personalities that are intrin-
sically adapted to neoliberal policies. Other studies on the contrary
interpret Pentecostalism as a response to the economic and social
transformations due to the retrenchment of the state preached by the
neoliberal agenda. From this perspective, Pentecostalism is described
as a movement providing spiritual and material support to alleviate
poverty and deprivation caused by structural adjustment programmes,
or facilitating the translation and interpretation in vernacular terms of
the disorienting effects of globalization. Once again, the multifaceted
nature of the Pente movement invites a more nuanced understanding
of its relationship with the economic sphere, avoiding univocal causal-
ity and deterministic explanations but focalizing rather on the plural-
ity of economic strategies and practices that it can pursue. In Ethiopia,
the elaboration of economic notions and their turning into practical
economic choices by Pentes should not be analyzed in the context of a
neoliberal retreat of the state alone. On the contrary, it should be seen
within the framework of the transformation of state action and its
involvement in the economy—through monopolistic control of strate-
gic sectors like telecommunications and strong influence over resources
distribution—in official compliance with the paradigm of the develop-
mental state. In this respect the Pente movement, through professional
fellowships and networks, parachurch activities and ministries, devel-
opment initiatives, members’ donations, and separate community orga-
nizations, offers alternative channels to the governmental ones for the
delivery of social and economic services, resource accumulation, access
to international funds, and the pursuance of careers, mundane aspira-
tions, and social mobility.
Despite a vocal discourse on the need to promote Christian values
and interests in the national economy, in order to counter the Islamic
domination of commerce and to tackle the corruption of the system
imputed to the action of Evil forces, the development of a flourishing
Pente economic community has not materialized yet. Pente business fel-
lowships and economic activities remain at an infant stage. Until now,
their limited dimensions do not represent a significant challenge to the
economic and financial establishment, controlled by the EPRDF affili-
ated enterprises and Sheikh Mohamed al-Amoudi’s business group.
Hence, rather than being a competing force, Pente economic actors
and ventures seem to offer a sheltered space to negotiate roles and posi-
140
GO PENTE
tions with the economic establishment and to prosper in the niches of

the free market allowed by the current government. First of all, their
quest for individual and social transformation seems to entail a “selec-
tive affinity” with the transformation of the Ethiopian economy towards
a more market oriented direction. It is also in coherence with the offi-
cial discourse of the Growth and Transformation Plan, through which
the government aims at reaching the status of a middle-income economy
by 2015. Then the vast majority of Pentes openly reject the Prosperity
Gospel as a theological degeneration and practice alien to the Ethiopian
socioeconomic culture. Pente churches try to offer, with different tones
and nuances, a moral justification of economic success, of exclusive life-
styles and conspicuous consumption, striking a balance with traditional
discretion and suspicion of economic prosperity and wealth.
Finally, in a country with a relatively short experience of free mar-
ket economics, Pente economic networks and fellowships, through a
rigid doctrine and practice of the self, allow the acquisition and
enforcement of a discipline conducive to entrepreneurship. The incul-
cation of this discipline is matched with practical training in market-
ing and other business techniques, as well as the opportunity to test
them through the participation in economic and financial ventures.
Open questions: Pente expansion, secularism and religious pluralism

in Ethiopia
The set of spiritual notions, codes of action and material practices devel-
oped at the interface between global flows and local peculiarities con-
tributes to structuring of the Pente phenomenon as a coherent field for
the formation of moral and political subjects. Thus Pente trajectories
come to exemplify the contemporary struggle by Ethiopians to define
their identity against the unresolved questions of ethnic federalism, to
renovate traditional practices of equilibrium between adhesion and dis-
sidence vis-à-vis a feared political authority, and to cope with the con-
tradictions of the country’s insertion into the a neoliberal economy.
In the future, a major test for the ambitions of the Pente movement
will be firstly of its capacity to confirm the steady and exceptional
expansion rate of the last twenty years and to cope with the reactions
that this causes in the rest of Ethiopian society. In the past, the growth
and consolidation of the movement have been mainly related to local
dynamics, such as the end of official persecution and the solidity of
141
local religious entrepreneurs, rather than with exogenous factors such

as the action of transnational missionaries from Asia or America as in
other African countries. Growing investment in transnational net-
works, particularly by new independent churches, as well as in the edu-
cation sector through the development of theological colleges, suggests
the need to assess the influence of North American Pentecostalism in
terms of theological thought, codes of action, circulation of teachers
and the flow of resources channelled through the Ethiopian diaspora.
Furthermore, the internal divisions and the proliferation of churches,
together with the individualistic approach to religion and the spiritual
nomadism of the faithful, might challenge their capacity to transmit
their faith to their offspring. This applies particularly in the urban con-
text where multiple religious allegiances coexist within the same fam-
ily. Future expansion will probably rely on the attitude towards pros-
elytism. While the official discourse on evangelization openly targets
Muslim areas, the record seems to indicate that conversion still occurs
mainly among Orthodox believers.55 This trend has already helped to
spark more confrontational and fundamentalist reactions in the
Orthodox camp, such as the strict return to tradition preached by the
influent Mahbere Qiddusan movement. The evolution of ecumenical
relationships among different Christian denominations towards more
tensions is a matter of growing concern.
These trends should be investigated within the broader issue of the
effects of Pente expansion on religious pluralization and competition
within the Ethiopian political space. Until now, research into the rela-
tion between Christianity and Islam in the region has focused mainly
on the Ethiopian Orthodox Church for the Christian side.56
Pente churches are perceived as alien to the tradition of mutual tol-
eration and as backed by international interests attempting to jeopar-
dize the national cohesion and stability of the country. This interpre-
tation tends to over-emphasize the peaceful coexistence between Islam
and Christianity in Ethiopia and to overlook its conflicting aspects.57
The Pentes are inspired by an assertive attitude towards proselytism
and have introduced a more aggressive and Manichean vocabulary in
the discourse, brandishing references to spiritual warfare and libera-
tion from evil forces. Furthermore, the adhesion to transnational net-
works might be a channel for intrusion within the national public
debate of global contentious issues such the rise of Islamic fundamen-
talism or resistance to American imperialism.
142
GO PENTE
The exploitation of these issues has to be seen in the light of their

overlapping with local simmering tensions stemming from socio-eco-
nomic competition or ethnic boundaries. In addition, Pente impact on
interfaith coexistence should be assessed in relation to the dynamics
occurring inside other religious groups, such as the internal controver-
sies shaking the Orthodox Church or the reformist aims of some
Muslim fringes. The combined effects of these dynamics seem to feed
antagonistic discourses and confrontational occupation of public
spaces, resulting in religious clashes with an increasing and unprece-
dented frequency.58 The controversial contribution to this escalation
made by the growing complex of religious media, enjoying a relatively
high degree of freedom compared with their secular colleagues, is pre-
occupying. Furthermore, given its geopolitical implications, the effects
of the Pente expansion on the renovated and contentious religious
presence in the Ethiopian public sphere need to be evaluated within the
broader context of the complex interplay of politics, war and identity
in the Horn of Africa.59
The increasing vocal presence of religion in the Ethiopian public
space has not resulted so far in the direct involvement of spiritual lead-
ers in politics or the emergence of religious political parties. The cur-
rent government has proved effective at controlling the mobilization
potential of religion and maintaining ethnic allegiance as the main vec-
tor for political participation. Nevertheless recent developments have
showed that religion is “actively and assertively constructed by com-
munal leaders and religious entrepreneurs as the normative, dominant
identity of citizens” and that “antagonistic religious discourses tend to
fill the space vacated by politics with the decline of democratic debate
and freedom”.60
The internal pluralism and flexibility of the Pente movement, cou-
pled with its lack of accountability to institutional hierarchies, might
allow it to avoid external control and influence. This however raises
questions about the ability of the movement to fully make its influence
felt as a coherent force in political lobbying, in cultural debates and in
continued social presence.
Even if the Pentes do not represent a force trying to destabilize the
current political system, several of the developments within the move-
ment do challenge the official approach of secularism and separation
between state and religion affirmed in the Constitution (art. 11).
First of all, a shift in the internal division of work among different
religious institutions might lead to more direct action by churches in
143
crucial issues like community development, human rights advocacy

and conflict resolution. Involvement in these fields has been in fact for-
bidden by the 2008 Regulation on Civil Society Organization to all
“international” NGOs receiving more than 10 per cent of their budget
from abroad, which included the main developmental wings of Pente
churches. The direct assumption of responsibility for these activities by
churches is already happening and its consequences for institutional
relation with the government will need to be cautiously monitored in
the next years.
In addition, the radical character of the Pente experience casts an
ambiguous shadow over the literal interpretation of Ethiopia as an
“Ancient and Holy Nation” as mentioned in the Bible. In their combat
for the Realm of God against the Realm of Evil, Pentes have publicly
embarked on a crusade against corruption and promotion of their own
view of “good governance”. The consequences of this discourse of
transformation and moralization of the public space cannot be entirely
understood in terms of political rationality. In fact, this discourse
entails a spiritual dimension and produces a “prescriptive regime”61
that sets its own norms and codes of action towards the formation of
moral and political subjects. Therefore, in describing the extraordinary
rise of the Pente movement in the last few years and its impact on con-
temporary Ethiopian society, we should bear in mind what is properly
Pente, that is, the complexity of an approach to spiritual salvation and
practices of faith that are not reducible to the political, social and eco-
nomic logics of this world.
Abbink, Jon, 2011, “Religion in Public Spaces: Emerging Muslim-Christian

Polemics in Ethiopia”, African Affairs, 110/439, pp. 253–74
Anderson, Allan, 2004, An Introduction to Pentecostalism. Global Charis
matic Christianity, Cambridge University Press.
Bahru Zewde, 2002, Pioneers of Change in Ethiopia: The Reformist Intellec
tuals of the Early Twentieth Century, Athens: Ohio University Press.
Bax, Mart, 1987, “Religious Regimes and State Formation: Towards a
Research Perspective”, Anthropological Quarterly, 60 (1), pp. 1–11.
Bayart, Jean-François (ed.), 1993, Religion et modernité politique en Afrique
Noire, Paris, Kharthala.
Corten, André, 2006, “Un religieux immanent et transnational”, Archives de
Sciences Sociales des Religions, 133, pp. 135–151.
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Corten, André and Mary, André (eds), 2000, Imaginaires politiques et pen-
tecôtismes. Afrique/Amérique latine, Paris: Khartala.
Cox, H., 2006, “Spirits of Globalisation: Pentecostalism and Experiential
Spiritualities in a Global Era”, in Stralsett, S. J. (ed), Spirits of Globalisation,

The Growth of Pentecostalism and Experiential Spiritualities in a Global

Age, London: SCM Press, pp. 11–22.
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Missions in Orthodox Ethiopia, 1830–1868, Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Donham, Donald, 1999, Marxist Modern. An Ethnographic History of the
Ethiopian Revolution, Berkeley: University of California Press.
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Dawn Ministries, 2005, National Mission Research. The Harvest Force and
the Harvest Field of Ethiopian Evangelical Churches, Addis Ababa.
EEA—Ethiopian Economic Association, Ethiopian Economic Policy Research
Institute, 2008, The Role of Faith Based Organization (FBOs) in Develop
ment in Ethiopia: Past Contributions and Future Prospects, Addis Ababa.
Eide, Øyvind M., 2000, Revolution and Religion in Ethiopia. The growth and
persecution of the Mekane Yesus Church 1974–85, Oxford: James Currey.
Gascon, Alain, 2005, “Éthiopie: la croix contre la croix. Fédéralisme et prosé-
lytisme des Églises penté”, Hérodote, 119 (4), pp. 95–109.
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Factor in Ethiopia, Frankfurt: Peter Lang.

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in Early Development and Co-Operation, Uppsala, Stockholm: Almquist &
Wiksell International Distributors.
Haustein, Jörg, 2008, “Brief History of Pentecostalism in Ethiopia, on the
website of the European Research Network on Global Pentecostalism”,
http://www.glopent.net/Members/jhaustein/ethiopia/brief-history-of-pente-
costalism-in-ethiopia (latest access on September 2014)
——— 2009a, “Navigating Political Revolutions. Ethiopia’s Churches During
and After the Mengistu Regime”, in Koschorke, Klaus (ed.), Falling Walls.
The Year 1989/90 as a Turning Point in the History of World Christianity,
Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, pp. 117–36.
——— 2009b, “Pentecostal and Charismatic Churches in Ethiopia 2009”,
http://www.glopent.net/Members/jhaustein/ethiopia/pentecostal-charis-
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——— 2011a. Writing Religious History: The Historiography of Ethiopian
Pentecostalism, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.
——— 2011 b, “Charismatic Renewal, Denominational Tradition and the
Transformation of Ethiopian Society”, in Evangelisches Missionswerk
Deutschland (ed.), Encounter Beyond Routine. Cultural Roots, Cultural
Transition, Understanding of Faith and Cooperation in Development,
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146
5
FROM PAN-AFRICANISM TO RASTAFARI

AFRICAN AMERICAN AND CARIBBEAN ‘RETURNS’
TO ETHIOPIA
Giulia Bonacci
On 7 November 1964 Noel Dyer, a Jamaican Rastafari1 who had

migrated to England, took the train from London to Dover. After

arriving in Paris, he worked for three months in order to be able to
continue on his way to Spain and Morocco. From there, he set off
towards the east. He crossed Algeria, Tunisia, Libya and Egypt on
foot, went beyond the Aswan dam and over the desert to reach Sudan,
where he got arrested by the authorities, because he did not have a
visa. He spent three months in prison until the Ethiopian Ambassador
in Khartoum heard about the Rastafari who wanted to go to Addis
Ababa on foot and authorized him to enter Ethiopia. It took Noel
Dyer more than a year to complete his journey from England to
Ethiopia. It was an exceptional journey, which shows at least two
things in addition to his personal determination.
The first is the violence of the racial discrimination and economic
marginalization that he had experienced first in Jamaica and later in
147
England, and which had led him to leave. This violence is one of the
common denominators for most Africans and people of African
descent in the Americas and Europe. The root cause of their traditions
of resistance is the backdrop against which they draw their identity
and their political objectives. The second is the power of the imagina-
tion and the ideologies that led Noel Dyer to tie his identity, freedom,
redemption, and future to that of Ethiopia. At the heart of this imagi-
nation, the racial identification with Ethiopia on the basis of skin
colour is central, whatever Ethiopians may think of it. For Noel Dyer
and others, Ethiopia is that mythical, biblical land where milk and
honey flow. It is also a political reality, Ethiopia having been, with
Liberia, the sole sovereign and independent state in sub-Saharan Africa
until the end of the 1950s.
Noel Dyer is the only one to have come on foot. However, since the
end of the nineteenth century many people of African ancestry, from
the Americas and the Caribbean, have come to settle in Ethiopia and
tied their lives to those of the Ethiopians. They formed a constant pres-
ence, even if their contribution to the development of the country
remains little known. They are the reflection of a peculiar representa-
tion of Ethiopia, both sacred and sovereign. And by coming to live in
Ethiopia, they have embodied the paradoxes of those engaged in ful-
filling the Pan-African ideology, which postulates the unity of destiny
and cause of Africans at home and abroad.2
The Ethiopian prophecy

It was with the Bible that the term “Ethiopia” first crossed the Atlantic
Ocean. The Bible did not travel with the human cargo, but on the
decks of European ships, including slave ships, and in the hands of
churchmen including those who approved slavery. In the King James
Bible of 1611, all the terms designating black people were translated
by the word “Ethiopia” following the Greek usage. For the enslaved
or freed communities in the Americas, the Bible, in spite of its associa-
tion with the slave-owners, had two great assets. First, the numerous
references to Ethiopia and Ethiopians offered a model with which the
descendants of Africans could identify and thanks to which they could
call themselves Ethiopians. Second, the history of the Exodus and the
metaphor of the Hebrews, a divinely elected people reduced to slavery,
offered them an archetype of deliverance and liberation. Verse 31 in
148
Psalm 68 is the reference to Ethiopia that is the most known. The verse
goes, “Ethiopia shall soon stretch forth her hands unto God”.3 Inter
preted by black congregations, it represented their aspirations: the
promise of an imminent liberation and their active role in the prophetic
destiny attributed to Ethiopia. This biblical interpretation was further
reinforced with the victory of Ethiopian troops over the Italians at
Adwa in 1896. Beyond its religious significance, Ethiopia then came to
be seen in addition as a mighty sovereign state, successfully fighting
against white imperialism. The Emperors of Ethiopia came to represent
both a religious and a political power that was significant for a then
colonized Africa and for all the oppressed black people in the world.4
This embodiment of black religious power and nationhood started to
attract black people to Ethiopia at the end of the nineteenth century.
The Haitian Benito Sylvain made four trips to Ethiopia and represented
Emperor Menelik II at the first Pan African Conference convened in
London in 1900 by the Trinidadian barrister Henry Sylvester Williams.
Joseph Vitalien from Guadeloupe became the personal physician of
Emperor Menelik and the first tutor of the young Tafari Makonnen, the
future Emperor Haile Selassie. When these Caribbean and African
American people started to come to Ethiopia they were faced by a
strong racist reaction from the European legations in Addis Ababa
which did not want to see the development of a close relationship
between them and the Ethiopians. At first they were only a few, but
more were to come, encouraged by the teachings of Marcus Garvey.
A Jamaican born in 1887 and a printer by trade, Marcus Garvey
created the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) in
Kingston in 1914. A few years later, the UNIA was moved to New
York and Marcus Garvey developed a black nationalist programme
that brought him a following of millions5 in the Americas, Europe, and
Africa. Charismatic and controversial, Marcus Garvey called for the
return of black people to Africa and used Ethiopia as a metaphor to
designate both the continent and the black people in exile. Moreover,
Garvey urged black people to see God in their own image, that is, “to
see God through the spectacles of Ethiopia”.6
In 1930, moved by the promise of liberation contained in the
Ethiopian prophecy, Arnold Josiah Ford, originally from Barbados, set-
tled in Ethiopia along with some of his disciples. Leader of a congrega-
tion of Black Jews7 of whom there were many in the Harlem of that era,
he was a musician and a composer, and author of “The Universal
149
Ethiopian Anthem”, the hymn of Marcus Garvey’s organization. Ford

was well received by the Ethiopian authorities and he was given land,
but he lacked the capital that could enable him to bring about a rapid
development. And then another event became a major obstacle to black
settlement in Ethiopia: the Fascist invasion of Ethiopia in 1935.
The Pan-African cause of the twentieth century

As the war approached, Ethiopia became a cause to defend. On this
occasion, the first grand pan-African international mobilization took
shape. In a few weeks the attention of Blacks in the entire world was
focused on Ethiopia, the pan-African press circulated news on the war,
and thousands of “Ethiopian” volunteers, American citizens and colo-
nial subjects, were ready to take up arms to defend Ethiopia. The war
had become a metaphor for the anti-colonial struggle, and Ethiopia
was supported by songs written for the occasion, by massive demon-
strations, by fund-raising, and by the boycott of Italian businesses in
New York, sometimes followed by riots and other militant actions.
This mobilization around the defence of the sovereignty and integrity
of Ethiopia was one of the great moments of Pan-Africanism in the
twentieth century.8
After the liberation of Ethiopia in 1941, a generation of Pan-
Africanists committed itself to participate in the reconstruction of the
country. They were teachers, professionals, technicians, journalists,
photographers, and administrators. John Robinson, an American avi-
ator who had already fought against the Italians as a military pilot in
1936, returned to Ethiopia in 1944. In a few years, he trained more
than eighty air force cadets who later became the first Ethiopian civil-
ian and military pilots. David A. Talbot, a Guyanese journalist, suc-

ceeded a black American, William Steen, as editor of the Ethiopian

Herald. He also broadcast on the radio, and was in charge of English
publications in the Ministry of Information. Mignon Ford, from
Barbados, opened the Princess Zenebe Worq School in 1941, and
Dr Tomas Fortune Fletcher, an American, became the director of the

Medhane Alem School. The examples are numerous, and they illustrate
the importance Ethiopia had in the lives of these professionals who
identified themselves with the country and felt directly concerned by
its reconstruction. Some stayed only until the end of their contracts but
others, like Mignon Ford or David Talbot, remained in Ethiopia until
the end of their lives.
150
The Ethiopian government was shaping for itself a clear pan-African

policy by recruiting and inviting black people to come to Ethiopia.
Furthermore, as a token of appreciation for the support showed by the
black people of the world during the war, Emperor Haile Selassie
granted to the members of the Ethiopian World Federation (EWF) five
gashas, equivalent to 200 hectares, of fertile land in the outskirts of
Shashemene, a southern market town.9 The Ethiopian World Federation
had been established in New York in 1937 by order of the Emperor with
the objective of centralizing the moral and financial support offered in
the Americas for the Ethiopian war effort. Headed by an Ethiopian,
Melaku E. Beyen, it published a newspaper, The Voice of Ethiopia,

organized fundraising and informed the public with news of the war.
National and international branches were quickly established. The first
settlers on the Shashemene land grant were Helen and James Piper. Born
in the tiny Caribbean island of Montserrat, they had lived in the USA
and were Garveyites, Black Jews and members of the Ethiopian World
Federation. They came as part of the pan-African generation involved in
the reconstruction of Ethiopia, and after a couple years spent working
in Addis Ababa, went on to settle on the Shashemene land.
However, by the end of the 1950s, pan-Africanism began a major
transformation as it was appropriated by the new African elites. The
Pan African Congress in Manchester in 1945 saw the strategies of the
anti-colonial struggle being put to the fore by young leaders like
Kwame Nkrumah and Jomo Kenyatta. In the eyes of black Americans
fighting for their civil rights, the significance of Emperor Haile Selassie,
considered “the father of Africa”, started to be outshone by the
“sons”, the heads of states of the new independent countries. The
changes brought about by the process of decolonization inspired black
Americans in their struggle more than the Ethiopian model, which
began to be considered as an autocratic and ageing regime, struggling
for its survival against a coup d’état (1960), peasant revolts and the
Eritrean problem.
But the image of Ethiopia as a sacred sovereign state began to be glo-
rified by a new and different population not previously noticed, the
poor blacks coming out of the ghettoes of Kingston, Jamaica. This was
no longer the African or pan-African elite, the intellectuals of the grand
congresses, the trade union leaders or activists engaged in the anti-
colonial armed struggle; it was the Rastafari.
151
The Rastafari and Ethiopia

The Rastafari were heirs to the ideologies of Ethiopianism and Pan
Africanism and heirs to Marcus Garvey’s black nationalism. Their con-
tribution lies in their social practice, their cultural contributions and
their resilient engagement with Ethiopia. The early Rastafari of the
1930s were accustomed to cultural resistance, and like many other
Jamaicans they had travelled to Central America and the United States.
As a result, they had familiarized themselves with the international lex-
icon of pan-African and racial unity.10 The Rastafari relayed the con-
viction that Ethiopia had a prophetic destiny in which they could take
part, and, rejecting their status as colonial subjects, they identified with
Ethiopians and declared allegiance to this Black Empire rather than to
the British Empire.
Emperor Haile Selassie occupied a central place in the cosmology
and practices of the Rastafari. The black communities had noticed his
first political actions while he was still Ras Tafari.11 A delegation sent
to the United States in 1919, the gradual abolition of slavery in
Ethiopia, the admission of the country into the League of Nations in
1923 were all measures that had given Ras Tafari considerable pres-
tige. On several occasions, he had invited black people to come and
settle in Ethiopia. His coronation on 2 November 1930 made him

Emperor Haile Selassie I, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Conquering

Lion of the Tribe of Judah, Elect of God, and Light of the World—all
titles with a Biblical significance, used by Ethiopia’s sovereigns since
the nineteenth century to legitimize their political power. In Jamaica,
only one step was needed for sensitized congregations to interpret these
dynastic and messianic titles as proof that the man who had been
crowned on that day had a divine nature and would play a role in the
realization of the prophecy that announced their liberation. This inter-
pretation made the Rastafari movement both religious and political,
and it was at first harshly repressed in Jamaica.
The beliefs and practices of the Rastafari formed a critique of the
colonial society in which they found themselves. Their hairdo, the
dreadlocks (literally meaning “terrifying knots”), symbolized their reli-
gious consecration, in reference to their Nazarene vow (see Numbers,
6 in the Bible), as well as their rejection of European aesthetic norms
imposed by colonial society. They created ritual organizations and
social structures through which they transmitted their history orally to
the younger generations. The contribution of Rastafari to the collec-
152
tive Jamaican consciousness is now recognized. By opposing the image

of Africans associated with the infamous chains of slavery, and by
reversing the colour line to claim the black body as the site of divinity,
in the image of Haile Selassie I, they participated in the exorcism of
racism on which Jamaica was grounded.12
In Jamaica, as in most slave societies of the Americas, claiming the
right for people of African ancestry to return to Africa caused major
social movements and involved people representing a wide spectrum of
society.13 For the Rastafari, repatriation to Africa or Ethiopia was a
pillar of their faith. Both an imperious necessity understood in terms
of human rights and a gateway for their redemption, repatriation to
Africa had to be achieved by whatever means necessary. Various
attempts at leaving Jamaica for Africa had already failed, but an
announcement in 1955 by the Ethiopian World Federation that a land
grant was available in Ethiopia had raised high hopes among the
Rastafari. In 1961 the Jamaican government sponsored a Back to
Africa mission to study the settlement possibilities in five African coun-
tries. However, despite encouraging conclusions, the results of this
Back to Africa mission were somewhat forgotten in the enthusiasm of
Jamaica’s independence in 1962.
It was the state visit of Haile Selassie to Jamaica in 1966 that even-
tually encouraged Rastafari to pack up and leave. On his Caribbean
tour, the Ethiopian Emperor visited Haiti, Barbados, Jamaica, and
Trinidad and Tobago. In Jamaica, ten thousand people were waiting
for him at Kingston airport, overwhelming the protocol and national
security forces. Far from putting an end to the Rastafari movement—
as the British had hoped—the visit of Haile Selassie brought Rastafari
into the limelight. They were invited to official receptions, and in a
speech in the National Arena Haile Selassie declared that “Jamaicans
and Ethiopians are blood brothers”.14
The first group of Rastafari left for Ethiopia in 1968. It was com-
posed of three adults and four children, and they were followed the
following year by another group made of members of local 43 and 31
of the Ethiopian World Federation. Leaving behind them fearful fam-
ilies, the Rastafari started to fulfil their claim to repatriation.
The Shashemene settlement

The Jamaican Rastafari arriving in Shashemene by the end of the
1960s found a few people already living on the land grant: Helen and
153
James Piper, the first settlers, a handful of Black Americans, Baptists,

Muslims and one Rastafari, as well as Noel Dyer who had arrived a
few years before. Rastafari from Kingston continued pouring in, some
members of the Ethiopian World Federation, and members of the
Twelve Tribes of Israel, an organization founded in 1968 as a splinter
group of the Ethiopian World Federation. It had developed its own
doctrine and was very keen on the issue of repatriation. The relation-
ship between those who were already there and the newcomers was
not easy, as more people meant further distribution of the five gashas
of land and a power struggle for their administration. Those early
Jamaican settlers eventually petitioned the Ethiopian government and
saw the land grant divided among twelve households in July 1970. It
was an amazing achievement for poor black people coming out of the
Kingston ghettos to find themselves masters of fertile land acreages in
Ethiopia. While no further lots were arranged for other Rastafari arriv-
ing in the early 1970s, the Shashemene settlers built their houses and
ploughed the land with the local peasants, reproducing the unequal
labour relationships then prevalent in Ethiopia.
Although well received by the Imperial regime, they had to face the
1974 Ethiopian revolution and the large-scale land nationalization of
1975. Associated with the Emperor on account of their faith, they lost
everything, their houses, their crops, and their right to land. The pan-
African motivation of the Shashemene settlement could not withstand
the massive social and political change that was overtaking Ethiopia.
Some Shashemene settlers left because they felt threatened, a few
stayed and a few continued to arrive during the years of the Derg, the
military regime. They shared with the Ethiopians the hardships of cur-
few and food rationing, and struggled to survive in war-torn revolu-
tionary Ethiopia.
Apparently Colonel Mengistu Haile Mariam, leader of the new
regime, admired the continued presence of these foreigners who
wanted to be Ethiopians and had not abandoned the country while
thousands of native Ethiopians had fled abroad. But living in
Shashemene was not easy. The image the settlers had of Ethiopia
turned out to be in sharp contrast to the reality of the country. The
peasants around Shashemene, the town’s businessmen, and the civil
servants had great difficulties understanding why these people came
from all over the world to share their fate. The Ethiopians sometimes
supported, assisted, and nourished them; at other times they stole from
154
them, chased them away and even killed them. Following many peti-
tions from the Rastafari, eighteen lots of land were granted in 1986 by
local authorities so as to accommodate growing families piling up in
small clapboard houses. That was the last time land was formally
granted by the Ethiopian government to the Rastafari in Shashemene.
With the change of regime in 1991, Rastafari resumed coming to
Ethiopia. An international coalition of Rastafari organized in 1992 a
month-long celebration of the Centenary of Haile Selassie (born in
1892), thus putting Ethiopia back at the centre of the Rastafari move-
ment. During the 1990s, and particularly around the millenniums in
2000 and 2007,15 hundreds of Rastafari came to settle in Ethiopia to
contribute to the country’s development. The former location of the
land grant had been absorbed into the town of Shashemene, exacerbat-
ing the fragility of the community which lacked papers and land hold-
ing titles. The neighbourhood is now known as “Jamaica sefer”, even
though about fifteen nationalities are living there. This reflects the inter-
nationalization of the Rastafari movement. In the 1970s, while the
Ethiopian Empire collapsed under the impact of social change, the
Rastafari movement had spread beyond the boundaries of Jamaica.
Because of reggae music, the Rastafari artists had broadcast their iden-
tity to the world, and in turn Rastafari from all over the world had
arrived in Shashemene, sometimes from as far as Sweden, New Zealand,
Chile, Japan and South Africa. Rastafari communities had meanwhile
developed in Addis Ababa, Bahar Dar, Awassa and Debre Zeit.
Despite their small numbers in relation to Ethiopia’s population,16
the Rastafari represent a particular figure in the Pan African relation-
ship. They play a special role in the contemporary global representa-
tion of Ethiopia, as they learn Amharic in the Western capitals, agitate
for the return of Ethiopian treasures looted by the British at Maqdala,
and produce hagiographic discourses on Ethiopia, glossing over the
subjects of war, famine, and poverty familiar to the international
media. In Ethiopia they are a unique type of foreigner as most of them
have left everything to live with Ethiopians in Ethiopia. They claim to
be “Ethiopians” even though they cannot help sticking to their own
identities. Although their culture is sometimes embarrassing to the
Ethiopians,17 they nevertheless build schools and clinics, and develop
businesses and services. They attract tourists, they invest, and they
bring up their children in the country. Nevertheless, their contributions
remain unrecognized, and their integration is not easy. Bob Marley is
155
now celebrated in the country and adopted as a cultural reference by

Ethiopia’s youth.18 Yet, there is no government policy to facilitate the
settlement and integration of Rastafari. Nor is there any legal or finan-
cial assistance from pan-African institutions.
Interestingly, the last ten years have witnessed a convergence
between the Rastafari presence and the discreet but growing nostalgia
for Emperor Haile Selassie’s regime. Despite some legal restrictions19
the symbols of the ancien régime are nowadays visible in Addis Ababa,
marketable to the tourists, and a number of Ethiopian associations
openly express their proximity to Ethiopia’s royalty. As an example of
this convergence, one of these Ethiopian associations, the Emperor
Haile Selassie I Memorial Foundation, organized on 22–24 July 2011

the first pilgrimage to Ejersa Goro, the birthplace of the former

Emperor, in collaboration with the Rastafari community. Although the
two parties express their involvement in this pilgrimage in different
ways, it was the first time since 1974 that Ethiopians and Rastafari
were working together on a tribute to Emperor Haile Selassie.
Conclusion
Ethiopia has assumed a central place, as much imagined as real, in the
development of Ethiopianism and pan-Africanism. Although Ethiopia
was not affected by the trans-Atlantic slave trade for which trading
posts were established along the whole western coast of Africa, it has
been chosen by generations of African American and Caribbean mili-
tants as a symbol of freedom, redemption, and sovereignty. At the
beginning of the twenty-first century, pan-Africanism is trying to
acquire new dimensions. The African Union has succeeded the
Organization of African Unity (OAU, founded 1963), and a sixth
region, that of the diaspora, has been established, even though discus-
sions on the definition of this African diaspora and on the modalities
of its claim to the eventual acquisition of an “African citizenship” are
still going on. On the occasion of a conference held in Kingston in
2005, which included the African Union, South Africa and the
Caribbean states, the contribution of Rastafari as the guardians of the
vision of the founders of pan-Africanism was recognized and cele-
brated.20 The resilience of the Rastafari in holding on to their identity,
and their complete support for the last Ethiopian Emperor, Haile
Selassie I, even more than thirty years after the downfall of the Empire,
156
offers to the Ethiopians another representation of themselves and their

legacy, located at the heart of the pan-African ethos.

Bonacci, Giulia, 2010, Exodus! L’histoire du retour des Rastafariens en
Ethiopie, Paris: L’Harmattan.
——— 2013a, “The Ethiopian World Federation: a Pan-African Organization
among the Rastafari in Jamaica”, Caribbean Quarterly, 59 (2), pp. 73–95.
——— 2013b, “L’irrésistible ascension du ras Täfäri dans les imaginaires
noirs”, Annales d’Ethiopie, 28, pp. 157–76.
——— 2013c, “La fabrique du retour en Afrique. Politiques et pratiques de
l’appartenance en Jamaïque (1920–1968)”, Revue Européenne des
Migrations Internationales, 29 (3), pp. 33–54.
Brotz, Howard, 1964, The Black Jews of Harlem. Negro Nationalism and the
Dilemmas of Negro Leadership, London: Macmillan.
Chevannes, Barry, 1994, Rastafari: Roots and Ideology (Utopianism &
Communitarianism), Syracuse University Press.
——— 1997, Rastafari and Other African-Caribbean Worldviews, Rutgers
University Press.
——— 1998, “Rastafari and the Exorcism of the Ideology of Racism and
Classism in Jamaica” in N.S. Murrell, Spencer, W.D. and McFarlane, A.A.

(eds), Chanting down Babylon, The Rastafari Reader, Kingston: Ian Randle
Publishers, pp. 55–71.
Drake, S.C., 1970, The Redemption of Africa and Black Religion, Chicago/
Atlanta: Third World Press, Institute of the Black World.
Garvey, Marcus, 1986, The Philosophy & Opinions of Marcus Garvey. Or,
Africa for the Africans, Dover: The Majority Press.
Geiss, I., 1968, The Pan-African Movement. A History of Pan-Africanism in
America, Europe and Africa, New York: Africana Publishing Co.
Harris, Joseph, 1994, African-American Reactions to War in Ethiopia, 1936–
1941, Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press.
Hill, Robert, 2001, Dread History. Leonard P. Howell and Millenarian

Visions in the Early Rastafarian Religion, Chicago/Kingston: Research

Associates School Times, Miguel Lorne Publishers.
MacLeod, Erin, 2014, Visions of Zion. Ethiopians and Rastafari in the Search
for the Promised Land, New York: New York University Press.
Scott, William R., 1993, The Sons of Sheba’s Race: African-Americans and the
Italo-Ethiopian War, 1935–1941, Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Ullendorf, Edward, 1968, Ethiopia and the Bible, London: Oxford University
Press.
157
6
MONARCHICAL RESTORATION
AND TERRITORIAL EXPANSION
THE ETHIOPIAN STATE IN THE SECOND HALF
OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Shiferaw Bekele
The second half of the nineteenth century made modern Ethiopia in

many ways. The era witnessed a continuous reconstruction of the state,
which then shaped the nature of developments in the next century. The
reinvigorated state then expanded the territorial extent of the kingdom,
adding many more ethnic groups than before and giving rise to new
challenges in the twentieth century. This enabled the much-expanded
country to withstand the threat of the expansionist powers, mostly
Britain and Italy, and to keep its independence in a continent that was
being colonized from one end to the other. Yet, it lost a part of a his-
toric province (Hamasen, Akele Guzay and Serae, the highlands of
Eritrea) to Italian colonialism. The troubled relationship with that for-
mer colony of Italy formed one of the dominant themes in the political
history of the second half of the twentieth century and threatens to
remain important even in this century.1
159
The restoration of the powers and glories of the monarchy lay at the
heart of the process of rebuilding the state. This process commenced
in 1853. The need for reform stemmed from the political situation of
the period called Zemene Mesafint, meaning literally “the Era of
Lords” (1769–1855). The lords were the Were Sheh rulers (sometimes
known as the Yejju dynasty) who exercised actual power over the
kingdom for seven decades (1786–1853). In this period, the polity was
at its weakest. The kings of the Solomonic dynasty were mere rois fai-
néants in the hands of the Were Sheh rulers who governed the coun-
try in their name. But they never acquired legitimacy in the eyes of the
regional nobility who constantly challenged them. The result was a
continuous civil war that sputtered on and off, in one province or
another, throughout the period.2
In all the turmoil between the 1770s and the 1850s, the legitimacy
of the Solomonic kings was never questioned. And all the direct mem-
bers of the dynasty, even those who were distantly related, prided
themselves on their blood connection. The society at large treated them
with special consideration, even if each region and each province had
its own dynastic ruling house. All these families (with the exception of
the Muslim chiefs of Wollo) based their claim to rule their respective
domains on an invented or real descent from the Solomonic dynasty.
Their standing vis-à-vis each other was affected as much by their
degree of closeness to the Solomonic dynasty as by their military prow-
ess or the resources they commanded.3
There was therefore a contradictory process in Ethiopia in the Era
of Lords. On the one hand, the credibility, power and authority of the
Solomonic monarchy had never reached such a low point, while on the
other, the legitimacy of the dynasty never waned. For this reason, the
Were Sheh rulers never dared to abolish it and take its place or replace
it by another dynasty. Nor did they keep the throne empty for any
length of time. This fixation on the Solomonic dynasty was not the
obsession of the Were Sheh rulers alone. Lord after lord who aspired
to control the throne and to rule in the name of the king invariably
chose a direct member of this family (a son, grandson or brother of a
former king) as puppet Negus. They aspired to assume the position of
regency because the regency would allow them to exercise all the actual
powers of the monarchy.4
The Were Sheh rulers never acquired the full authority of the king-
ship, with perhaps the exception of Ras Gugsa ( fl.1799–1825) who
seems to have effectively ruled over the whole polity. He was obeyed
160
MONARCHICAL RESTORATION AND TERRITORIAL EXPANSION
by the nobility in general and imposed his will on the people. Traditions
collected from different regions agree that he established peace and
effectively governed the kingdom for his whole reign. But his succes-
sors (Yimam 1825–28; Marye 1828–31; Dori 1831 and Ali II 1831–
53) were made of a different stuff. They never managed to exercise full
authority around the country. They were constantly challenged by one
or another regional lord. In many cases, they did not win decisive vic-
tories. Even members of their own extended family were thorns in their
side throughout their stay in power. As a result the kingdom declined
into being a rather weak polity. The end result was an atmosphere of
uncertainty, constant troop movements, frequent battles followed by
looting and mayhem among the people. Thus, the sunset years of the
Zemene Mesafint were disturbed years.
This weakness reflected directly on the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.
It too suffered from this debilitation of the kingdom. The monarchy
had always constituted the central administration of the Church up to
its complete collapse in the 1780s. The king, rather than the bishop,
ran the Church. He regularly appointed the major national ecclesiasti-
cal dignitaries—abbots of the major royal monasteries, the Ichege, the
Aqabe Sa’at, and other leading figures. He sat down in judgement on
church related disputes and, finally, he looked into doctrinal matters.
He called and presided over “religious councils” (synods) to decide on
sectarian controversies. They were actually in most cases like royal
courts during which sentences were meted out on the recalcitrant sects.
The bishop was directly answerable to the king. Below the king,
regional governors ran the church and appointed the heads of the mon-
asteries and other regional ecclesiastical dignitaries within their
domains. Members of the aristocracy and the nobility—not only men
but also women—built, patronized and ran individual churches, or
were appointed by the king or by the regional lord to administer spe-
cific monasteries. They ran these institutions (for example appointing
the clergy) and endowed them with land and other property. Very
often they would use their positions, influence and connections to per-
suade the king to endow “their” churches with extensive lands from
which they themselves would become the major beneficiaries.
Thus, the Ethiopian Church was run not by an ecclesiastical admin-
istrative structure in the true sense of the word but rather by a state
hierarchy, which considered managing the Church one of its functions.
The power, authority and glory of the crown rubbed off on the prel-
ates and enhanced their authority, prestige and standing in society. The
161
removal of the monarchy from the centre of power in the last quarter
of the eighteenth century deprived the Church of its national adminis-
trative institution. The Zemene Mesafint was therefore a bad period
for the Church. It lacked national leadership. Its problems were further
compounded by the doctrinal controversies that steadily sapped its
strength and debilitated it. The Were Sheh rulers who were supposed
to exercise all the powers and authority of the kingship because of
their position as the regents were expected to carry out all the kingly
functions of running the Church. Nevertheless, they did not take their
duties seriously and the result was that the Church was left in limbo.
They neglected the Metropolitan (Abun) or they banished him out-
right. They were surrounded by Muslim lords, clerics and soldiers
rather than by their Christian counterparts, as they found the Muslims
more amenable to their wishes. So the Church found itself in the rather
unenviable situation of an orphan.
To complicate matters, the danger of Egyptian invasion loomed
large on the western horizon (Egypt had ruled the Sudan since 1821).
Christian Ethiopians saw in this a danger linked to the steady expan-
sion of Islam inside their country. It was in this context of an Islamic
upsurge and the absence of peace and stability that Tewodros emerged
and inaugurated a new era in Ethiopian history.
For this reason, the Zemene Mesafint came to be seen by the popu-
lace as a period of disorder, chaos and lawlessness, as a period when
there was no central authority, as an era of incessant civil wars between
the regional lords for supremacy or, as often as not, for sheer raiding
and looting. Were Sheh rulers are remembered as the inept lords of
Begemdir fighting irresponsibly with the equally irresponsible rulers of
Gojjam or Semien or Tegray or Lasta or Wallo. Historians like to draw
parallels between this era and the Biblical Era of the Judges in the his-
tory of Israel “when there was no king in Israel: every man did that
which was right in his own eyes.” (Judges 21:25). “For Ethiopia”, in
the words of Paul Henze in his general history of Ethiopia, “the second
half of this formulation could better be phrased: every leader did what
he thought advantageous to him and his region.”5
The rise of Tewodros II and the restoration of the monarchy

(1855–1868)
Tewodros brought the Zemene Mesafint to an end in 1853 when he
decisively defeated Ras Ali II (1831–53), the last Wara Sheh ruler, at
162
the battle of Ayshal in Gojjam on 29 June 1853. It was not an easy

road. He had to fight every inch of the way to supreme power. He was
a formidable warrior. His brilliant victories over far larger armies and
his exceptional exploits on the battlefield seem to have captured the
imagination of the Ethiopians of his generation and subsequent gener-
ations were to see him as a larger than life hero.
For all his fame among Ethiopians (Tewodros is a household name
literally), our knowledge of the man leaves much to be desired. We
only know the outline of his life. He was born around 1820—nobody
is sure about the exact date of his birth—in the town of Gondar. His
given name was Kassa (Tewodros was his regnal name). His father
must have been a member of the nobility who died early in his son’s
life, while our knowledge of his mother is rather fuzzy. She seems to
have belonged to a family of the high clergy which had fallen on bad
days, so that she was forced to become a peddler of kosso (herbal med-
icine) on the open market of Gondar. Hence, in his years of promi-
nence, he was constantly insulted as the son of the kosso vendor.
This family background gave him a reasonable starting point for his
future career because his paternal half-brother, Dejazmatch Kenfu, was
an important lord of the period, who governed a major province
(fl.1826–39). After finishing church education, his brother took him
into his court as a page, this being a way of training young members
of the nobility in manners, administration, justice and the politics of
the day. Kenfu was a marcher lord as he governed the frontier districts
with Egyptian Sudan. Kenfu fought one major battle with the
Egyptians (1838) and emerged as the victor. This must have left a last-
ing imprint on the mind of the teenager Kassa, who must have drawn
a few conclusions of long lasting significance—the need for a modern
army equipped with up-to-date firearms and the need to modernize
state and society.
Kenfu died in 1839 and this left Kassa an “orphan” because he had
to look for another master. The years following the death of his half-
brother are the most obscure in the young man’s life. Eventually in the
early 1840s we find him a rebel in the western lowlands. He must have
proved himself a tough rebel because the governor of the province was
forced to concede his demands to bring him back to peaceful life.
Kassa kept going into rebellion several times and emerging more
powerful out of each round. After the second rebellion he was given
the hand of none other than the daughter of Ali II, and his third rebel-
163
lion was so strong that the rulers agreed to raise him to the high rank
of dejazmach and to make him the governor of the former provinces
of his half-brother, in the hope of making him a loyal lord. This was
in 1848. His last rebellion was the most decisive because it enabled
him to defeat several powerful lords one after another, the last being
Ali II himself. This was in June 1853. He did not show any sign of rul-
ing in the old way as a king-maker in his turn. Instead he claimed full-
fledged monarchical rank with the highly symbolic regnal name of
Tewodros (“the one brought forth by God”) on 11 February 1855. In

so doing, he announced far-reaching changes in the political history of

the ancient polity.6
His coronation meant the abolition of the old Solomonic dynasty,
which had ruled the country in a direct line since 1270. The dynasty
had led the country through thick and thin. It certainly did not save the
country from incessant rebellions and civil wars, but it had acquired a
religious and a political legitimacy. Even during the height of the frat-
ricidal wars of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries,
nobody wanted to replace it. All the coalitions of lords were faithful to
it and sought to rule in its name by putting a member of the dynasty
on the throne. So if anything demonstrated the blind loyalty of the
Ethiopians to the dynasty, it was precisely the Zemene Mesafint, the
period in which the monarchy was at its weakest. Now Tewodros did
away with it at one stroke. It is true that he claimed that he had
Solomonic blood, even if it was through a rather distant relationship.
Nobody took him seriously. The son of a kosso vendor on the open
market of Gondar (whatever the truth of that insult) would never qual-
ify for the royal bed of the country (the Ethiopians did not have the
tradition of sitting their kings on thrones, it was on beds that the kings
sat and thus the Amharic for bed, alga, became the synonym for
throne). Indeed, the young king faced the serious problem of legitimacy
from day one. While he planned to march to the two important prov-
inces not yet brought under his rule, Wollo and Shoa, in the weeks fol-
lowing his coronation, his enemies were conspiring to organize a wide-
spread rebellion against him. Unlike him, they hailed from the more
illustrious and established regional dynasties.
The lack of legitimacy was one side of the coin. The other side was
the bold vision, which the sheer act of the coronation inaugurated—of
a strong, centralizing monarchy. In bringing about the restoration of
the kingship, Tewodros was addressing the problem that had bedev-
164
illed the Ethiopian state since the last quarter of the eighteenth cen-
tury—a weak monarchy.
His plan to march first to Wollo and then to Shoa seems to have
been motivated by a number of factors. Wollo and the adjoining prov-
ince of Yejju were the native area of the Were Sheh dynasty whose rule
Tewodros had brought to an end. Ali II and his mother Menen had
quite naturally fled to Wollo after their final defeat in June 1853 and
they were busy organizing resistance and a possible comeback.
Tewodros was also driven by the hope of converting the local Muslim
population to Christianity. The Ethiopian polity had been a Christian
state since the conversion of Ezana to Christianity in the fourth cen-
tury, but since the last quarter of the eighteenth century, Islam had
made strong inroads among the Wollo Oromo.7 The menace of
Egyptian expansion heightened the danger of Islam in the eyes of the
rulers. Tewodros, who was a near mystic, hoped to address both the
political and the religious problem.
His march to Shoa was intended to reunify that old province with
the kingdom. Shoa had developed its own state institutions over the
last century and a half, until it had evolved into a full-fledged king-
dom. Recapturing Shoa was the dream of more than one king of
Gondar. After a few weeks of festivities and preparations, the new king
set out from Debre Tabor in April 1855. He quickly subdued the chiefs
of Wollo while Ali and his main followers disappeared into remote
gorges and mountain fastnesses. He appointed a member of the local
ruling house to govern the province from Meqdela, a mountain strong-
hold that Tewodros’s suicide later in 1868 would raise to the status of
an icon in the minds of educated Ethiopians of the second half of the
twentieth century.
It must have been with a tremendous sense of euphoria that the
young monarch proceeded to Shoa. The kingdom put up a clumsy
resistance that was quashed without much difficulty; its king died of
natural causes and the nobility surrendered the young son of the king,
Menelik.
But this first success was somewhat deceptive and he spent the fol-
lowing months fighting off a string of provincial rebellions—in Gojjam,
in Semien, in Wollo—that were to prove more and more intractable as
time went on, driving his punitive measures to become increasingly
harsh and brutal.
But Tewodros was also the first Ethiopian king in over two centu-
ries to think of forging a close relationship with European powers. He
165
believed that he could do so on the basis that both the European states
and his own state were Christian and that, for this reason, either
Britain or another leading European power would help him in his con-
frontation with Muslim Egypt. He believed that one or the other of
these states would extend to him “technical assistance”, in today’s par-
lance—namely, skilled men who could teach his people the military
crafts he needed. But he does not seem to have grasped the facts about
the international leading powers of his time. Britain and France had
great colonial empires and were vying with each other for even greater
empires and influence. In this rivalry, they cared little for religious sol-
idarity. They were rather driven by the hard-headed pursuit of their
national interests and had a dim view of the powers and capacities of
African kings and polities. For them an African monarch was no more
than a tribal chief with pompous titles. Racism was the order of the
day in Europe at the time.
Unaware of this situation, Tewodros wrote a letter to Queen
Victoria in 1862 in which he explained to her how and why he came
to power and the danger his country faced from Egypt. His request
was simple—technical assistance and help from his Christian brothers
in his confrontations with the Muslim foes. He laid great hopes on his
initiative. The British however were not impressed and did not even
bother to send back a courtesy reply. When their letter never came,
Tewodros was deeply offended. He did not have different options to
express his feelings to the British. So he had recourse to a rather undip-
lomatic measure—he put the Europeans at his court in custody until
the British responded to him. It was a move that finally gave a jolt to
the bureaucrats in London. They sent a courteous but empty letter.
This made things worse and Tewodros decided to add their consul and
envoy to the hostages. When finally it dawned on the British that the
matter was very serious, they decided to send an army to secure the
release of the hostages and punish the king. They spent considerable
sums of money and fitted out a big expeditionary corps which landed
at Zula, a little to the south of the harbour town of Massawa, at the
end of 1867.
In the meantime, Tewodros’s situation in the country had not
improved. He had never succeeded in fully quelling any of the rebel-
lions and establishing peace and order. In fact, the rebellions had
slowly expanded over the whole kingdom. By 1865, it was clear that
his days were numbered. The vision of a centralizing monarchy and a
166
strong state foundered on the hard rock of regional resistance. By the

end of 1867, when the British were preparing to land their expedition-
ary force, the Emperor controlled only a few districts around his capi-
tal. Three powerful lords had already emerged as potential successors
and they were busy positioning themselves to take over the “bed” of
Tewodros. They were Gobaze of Lasta, Kassa Mercha of Tegray and
Menelik of Shoa.
In fact, as early as 1865, Menelik had declared himself “King of
Kings of Ethiopia”, the traditional title of the Ethiopian emperors. He
controlled no more than his native province and so the title served
more as a proclamation of his aspirations rather than an expression of
the reality. As for Gobaze, he was busy establishing his suzerainty over
the lords of central Ethiopia. Kassa’s opportunity to strengthen him-
self came through the British. When they landed at Massawa, they
asked him to collaborate with them by opening the road through
which they would pass and supplying them with provisions. In return,
they promised firearms. Kassa jumped at the offer.
As a result, the British did not face any resistance on their way to
Meqdela, the mountain stronghold that Tewodros had converted into
his last fortress. Abandoned by his people and surrounded by his ene-
mies, he waited for the last duel with the British. When they reached
Meqdela, he went into his last battle on 13 April 1868, the Good

Friday of that year. His troops were mown down by superior fire-
power, killing the army commander Gebre, one of his best generals.
On the third day, when the British stormed the fortress Tewodros com-
mitted suicide rather than surrendering. This romantic suicide fired the
imagination of subsequent generations of Ethiopians and fuelled their
national pride. They saw in it an act of undaunted courage and defi-
ance against a much superior enemy. The British released the hostages
and then marched out of the country without trying any form of occu-
pation or control. On their way out, they kept their promise and gave
some of their (outdated) firearms to Kassa. This changed the balance
of forces between the three regional potentates who were vying for
national power.8
It is traditional among historians to discuss the complex legacy of
Tewodros. He left Ethiopia more divided than when he found it; and
yet he started the process of national revival, which his successors kept
building on. He had envisioned his national revival to be guided by a
strong monarchy but he had opened the way for regional potentates to
167
aspire for the kingly “bed” by abolishing the Solomonic dynasty. To

make up for his lack of legitimacy, he had come up with a neo-Solo-
monic identity which his successors later built on by putting forward
their own claims of belonging to the hallowed dynasty, weaving sym-
bols and rituals around it. Tewodros had attempted to address some
of the fundamental issues of the day, and one of these was the question
of strengthening the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, then an important
arm of the state as we have seen. He also took measures to contain
Islam, at least in Wollo. These twin policies were not successful in his
days but his successors were to implement them with a greater degree
of success. His move to reunify Shoa was a seminal measure because it
put on the national agenda a policy of territorial expansion as an inte-
gral element of the rebuilding of a powerful state. Yet in the years fol-
lowing his death, Ethiopia was once more territorially divided and
ruled by three “kings” for the next ten years.
Ethiopia divided: a decade of competition for the kingly bed

(1868–78)
The competition for the kingly bed passed through two stages. The
first was between the three lords (Gobaze, Kassa and Menelik), which
we have already mentioned; it lasted three years (1868–71). In that
first phase the three lords—Gobaze, Kassa and Menelik—all aspired to
the position of king of kings. Gobaze was the first to assert his claim.
Shortly after the death of Tewodros, he got himself crowned and took
the name of Tekle Giyorgis. But his army was quickly routed and the
hapless king was captured, blinded and relegated to a mountain top
where he died.
The second phase (1872–78) was between Menelik, who had
assumed the title of King of Kings as early as 1865, and Kassa, who
had become Emperor Yohannes IV in 1872. For six years (1872–78),
the kingdom was divided into two more or less equal halves ruled by
these two monarchs. Yohannes devoted the years 1873 to 1875 to the
task of establishing his authority over all the provinces of the king-
dom—that is, over the central and southern regions. Menelik too pre-
pared himself for the final showdown. The powerful lords of Begemder,
the central provinces and Gojjam “entered” into Yohannes’s court one
after another. Just before Yohannes confronted Menelik, the Egyptians
moved into the territory he controlled by way of Massawa and
168
marched to the Mereb River. He suspended all activities in central

Ethiopia and veered to the north to face the Egyptians. Fortunately for
him, he scored a quick victory over their “superior” army at the battle
of Gundet in October 1875. Egypt was humiliated and its imperial
ambitions over Ethiopia were frustrated. But it decided to try again,
sending a much bigger and better equipped army. The two sides met in
Akkele Guzay (today part of Eritrea) and Yohannes defeated the
invaders again in March 1876. It took him some time to stabilize the
situation in the northern frontier provinces, so it was only in late 1877
that he could turn his attention to his last rival.
Menelik did not sit idle either. He made strenuous efforts to pre-
pare himself for the final showdown with Yohannes. Nevertheless,

Yohannes’s army had been armed with firearms left behind by the
British, which gave him the edge over the other lords and had ensured
his victory over Tekle Giyorgis. He was now even more strengthened
by arms collected from the battlefield where he had defeated the
Egyptians. And his army was now fully battle tried. Yohannes marched
into Shoa in the spring of 1878 and when Menelik realized that the
enemy enjoyed a clear superiority over his own forces, he decided to
“enter”—to recognize the suzerainty of the Emperor and to abandon
his title of king of kings, settling down to that of simple king, ready to
pay tribute. On the other hand, Yohannes did not feel strong enough
to demand that Menelik abandon his kingship. Therefore, the two
compromised in March 1878 and after many years of turmoil, Ethiopia
came again to have a single monarch who was recognized by all the
lords of the country as their suzerain. The new sovereign was a strong
ruler with a formidable army under his command who became the law
of the country.9
This year (1878) marked in fact the culmination of the long process
started by Tewodros in spite of the serious weaknesses from which the
kingship had suffered. One of these was the fact that the monarchy
was no more than a regional court glorified as a national institution.
The fact that Yohannes maintained his court for much of his reign in
Tegray (in Adwa in the earlier years and in Mekelle in his later years)
went far to underscore the regional character of his kingship. For this
reason it did not really enjoy a higher legitimacy than the claim of any
other lord belonging to a regional ruling house.
Now that his status as the supreme sovereign of the country was
confirmed by his last and most powerful rival, Yohannes turned his
169
attention to the other major political and religious problems of the

country—the divisions within the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and the
growing expansion of Islam. As the king of the country, it was his duty
to give guidance and leadership to the Church. The Church had been
rocked by sectarian divisions since the first half of the seventeenth cen-
tury. The situation had sunk to the lowest depths during the Zemene
Mesafint, when the Church was paralyzed. Tewodros had been the
first to address the issue even before he put the crown on his head,
when he had summoned the Metropolitan and the leading ecclesiasti-
cal officials in and around Gondar to his court in the summer of 1854.
During this gathering he ruled that the sectarian tendencies were out-
lawed and Orthodoxy reaffirmed through the preponderance of the
authority of the Metropolitan. Like much else that he initiated, this
was a false start. He quarrelled with the bishop and other leading
Church dignitaries only two years later and the Church renewal had
ground to a halt. But Yohannes took it up again. He summoned all the
leading ecclesiastical dignitaries, and the leading spokesmen of the
three sects, and held a council at Boru Meda in Wello in the presence
of all the major lords of the country including Menelik. He ruled that
the sects should abjure their doctrines and take the Orthodox line
again or else face excommunication and persecution. The presence of
the regional lords gave weight to the ruling. It was implemented
around the country. The Church was finally reunited. After a century
of neglect, the monarchy gave it a strong leadership and direction.
Henceforth, Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity revived and expanded.10
He also addressed the question of Islam, and here he adopted a hard
line of suppression. He declared to the people of Wollo that they had
to convert to Christianity or face persecution. This decree was not as
successful as that reorganizing the Church, as it met with the hard
resistance of the Wollo Muslims. Yohannes responded with even
harsher repression.11
Whatever the specific nature of the policies he adopted, it is clear
that during 1878 the strong state the Ethiopians had been dreaming of
since the last quarter of the eighteenth century had emerged. It was this
state that was later to organize the territorial expansion of the coun-
try, eventually making it twice as large as it had been up to then. It was
also this state that managed to withstand the powerful imperialist
onslaughts of the subsequent two decades and ensured the survival of
Ethiopia, the only independent traditional state in a colonized African
continent.
170
Foreign aggression and internal expansion (1878–96)

The most remarkable feature of Ethiopia after 1878 was its dynamic
expansion in the western, southern and south-eastern directions. It was
Menelik who organized this empire building. He was not the first to
start it. Nevertheless, expansion reached a high point under his com-
mand. He launched it as one of his major agendas soon after his dec-
laration of rebellion against Tewodros in 1865. Between that year and
1878, he set out on a series of campaigns that eventually pushed the
limits of his territory all the way to the Gibe River in the west.
He also moved his capital from northern Shoa further to the west,
to Entoto, in the hills overlooking the present city of Addis Ababa.
Entoto remained a major centre of his activities until 1886 when he
decided to create a “modern” city and founded Addis Ababa. Menelik’s
armies marched out of Entoto in two principal directions—western
and southern. The expansion to the west was commanded by the
redoubtable general Ras Gobena Dachi, who had entered the service
of Menelik from the beginning of his reign. Most of the western terri-
tories inhabited by the Oromo were conquered by this general between
the years 1879 and 1886.
The expansion to the south split into two directions. One of them was
into the Rift Valley, into areas inhabited by the Silte, the Kambata and
the Hadiya, after which the army pushed further south into Wolayta.
The other direction was to the Arsi and Bale plateau. The plateau was
conquered between 1882 and 1890—a rather protracted undertaking
because of the stiff resistance put up by the local population. The last
major conquest was the Harar plateau, which was incorporated at the
beginning of 1887. In the same year commenced the slow process of
establishing Ethiopian rule over the Somali-peopled lowlands.
Ten years after the submission to Yohannes, Menelik had dramati-
cally increased the size of the country he controlled. His success can be
explained by several factors. First he was able to integrate the Shoan
Oromo and the Gurage into his administration and into his forces very
early in his career. This enabled him to recruit a much larger army than
he could otherwise have done. Moreover, his success attracted able-
bodied men from the northern provinces and the former soldiers of the
armies of Tewodros and Tekle Giyorgis who had been cast adrift upon
the death of their masters. This swelled the ranks of his armies and in
all the engagements after 1878 he was able to put into the field more
troops than any of his foes.
171
Even though Yohannes was the King of Kings and Menelik his vas-
sal, the latter’s court became a greater centre of attraction not only to
many men of central Ethiopia but also to people from overseas.
Foreigners of many hues and colours—merchants and adventurers,
diplomats and missionaries, men of shady character and noble fig-
ures—flocked to the court in Entoto. Among them were arms dealers
whose usefulness Menelik appreciated. Italy and France competed to
sell arms to the Shoan king, allowing Menelik to equip ever larger
armies and ensuring a technological advantage over any potential
adversary after 1882.
The leadership factor occupies an important place here. Menelik’s
diplomatic genius was recognized by friends and foes alike, by
Ethiopians and foreigners in his own lifetime. He was a man with a tre-
mendous organizational capacity and a military strategist of no mean
proportions. In addition he showed himself to be a first class tactician
in the battles in which he participated as a commander. In addition to
his own personal leadership qualities, he surrounded himself, for the
most part, with men of high calibre, both Ethiopian and foreign.12
A combination of these factors goes a long way towards explaining
the remarkable success of Ethiopia in carving out an empire at a time
when the Europeans were scrambling all around it to build their own
empires on the continent. Yet, empire building was never a smooth ride,
particularly for those who were being conquered. The Ethiopian empire
was built by iron and fire.13 Tears, suffering and blood was the fate of
many conquered communities. A considerable proportion of their ara-
ble land was confiscated and given to the Ethiopian soldiers and their
commanders. Some of the peasants were turned into the serfs and ten-
ants of the conquerors. The obligations were onerous. All this had of
course an ethnic dimension—a good proportion of the conquerors were
Amhara and even the Oromo and Gurage soldiers spoke Amharic and
professed Orthodox Christianity. Regardless of their real origins these
traits made them “Amhara” in the eyes of the local population.14
The tribulations of the conquest and the hardships the empire
brought remained engraved in the historical memory of the conquered
people. The expansion brought into the Ethiopian polity over 90 per
cent of the Oromo people (a small segment fell under British rule in
what later became Kenya) and they came to constitute the largest eth-
nic group in the country. With the onset of modernization and the
spread of Western ideas of equality in the twentieth century, some of
172
the Oromo elite did not see any reason why they should be subjected
to the rule of other ethnic groups. They nursed the memory of the cir-
cumstances in which their people were incorporated into the country.
In like manner, as the country entered the twentieth century, the
Somalis found it difficult to identify themselves with the old Ethiopian
state. Identity is not something that comes easy. It takes time to forge
a nation out of an empire—out of a cauldron of peoples, cultures and
religions. All this was left for the future.
At the time, there were new challenges as a young European imperi-
alist power came barging in with a hungry appetite for land even
before the Ethiopian empire formation was consummated. That coun-
try was Italy.
The story of Italy’s aggression against Ethiopia was a rather compli-
cated and long affair. Italy first established its control in 1869 over a
small port on the Red Sea, Assab. It was in 1885, over a decade and a
half later, that the Italians took over Massawa courtesy of the British.
As soon as they landed in the historic port, they set out into the inte-
rior. This brought them face to face with Yohannes. But at that time
he was locked in a dangerous combat with the Islamist rulers of the
Sudan, the Mahdists.
The Mahdists had risen against their Turco-Egyptian rulers, expelled
them from the Sudan and established the Mahdiyya state in 1885.
They managed to encircle some of the retreating Egyptian troops in
frontier towns between Eritrea and the Sudan (Kassala was the most
important garrison) and along the Ethio-Sudan boundary line. The
British who had by now become the masters of Egypt decided to per-
suade Yohannes to help the Turco-Egyptian forces to break out of
their besieged garrisons so as to leave for their country.15 After some
negotiation, the Ethiopian sovereign agreed to help his former enemies.
In return, the British would restore the districts occupied by the
Egyptians over ten years earlier. But this agreement was never fully
implemented by the British. It was the Italians rather than the
Ethiopians who eventually took over the old occupied territories which
now constitute the lowland provinces of Eritrea.
The Ethiopian king found himself in serious trouble after making
this agreement. The Mahdists would never forgive him for extending
assistance to their mortal enemies who also happened to be his ene-
mies. On the other hand the British, who had refused to restore
Massawa to Ethiopia but had agreed to keep it themselves, decided to
173
hand it over to the Italians who were driven by a keen desire to carve
out a colonial empire in the north-eastern corner of Africa. The clashes
with Mahdist forces came first because Yohannes had to send his
armies to relieve the Egyptian garrisons. From the latter part of 1884
onwards, the two sides got engaged in a ferocious war that was to last
five years. It was in the midst of this complicated situation that the
Italians landed at Massawa and started to inch their way into the inte-
rior. Ethiopia protested but to no avail.
In January 1887, the Ethiopians scored their first dramatic victory
over a small but well equipped Italian unit at a place called Dogali, not
far from Massawa.16 This did not deter the colonizers. The next year
Yohannes led a big army and reached the lowlands not far from
Massawa. His foes dug in. It was not easy for Ethiopians to dislodge a
fortified enemy, owing to their lack of modern artillery. In the mean-
time, the Mahdist forces had scored a devastating victory over an
Ethiopian army in the west, had marched all the way to the historic
city of Gondar where they burned down churches and killed men,
women and children or took them into slavery. The Ethiopian situa-
tion was very dire.
To complicate matters, Yohannes received rumours that his two very
powerful vassals—Negus (king) Teklehaimanot of Gojjam and Negus
Menelik of Shoa—were conspiring against him. So he decided to turn
his attention to the south to deal with his recalcitrant lords. He made
a forced march to Gojjam where he devastated that province in order
to punish its lord.
This forced march into Gojjam also became an unintended way of
disseminating rinderpest into central Ethiopia. It had been brought into
the Massawa area, perhaps by the cattle the Italian army had bought
on the Arabian or the Indian market in late 1887 or early 1888. The
disease quickly spread in Gojjam, moved very fast to other parts of the
country and devastated the cattle. This led to a great famine that came
to be called by the people of Ethiopia Kifu Qen (the Terrible Period).
Then Yohannes marched to the Ethio-Sudanese borderlands to deal
with the Mahdist threat. On 9 March 1889, the two sides got locked

in a major battle during which Yohannes was mortally wounded, lead-

ing the Ethiopian army to disband. Much more than the Mahdist vic-
tory, what turned out to be of far-reaching consequences for the future
history of the country was the death of Yohannes.
Following the death of this Emperor, Menelik simply proceeded to
assume the imperial office. He did not have to work much for this
174
because by this time he was clearly the most powerful lord in the
empire, both in terms of natural and human resources and because of
the strength of his armies. The lords of central Ethiopia who had been
loyal to Yohannes found it politically wise to submit to the Shoan king
without much ado. But while the court of Yohannes had been no more
than a regional court, the old Solomonic monarchy had been a truly
national institution, supreme over provincial interests and identities.
When Tewodros had abolished the Solomonic dynasty and taken its
place, his rule became identified with his native province of Quara. It
was the same with Yohannes whose Tigrean association was under-
lined even more by the fact that the king maintained his court for much
of his reign in his native region rather than in Gondar or Debre Tabor.
So, as a result, succession for Menelik did not pose any particular chal-
lenge of legitimacy.
But the Tigrean nobility did not see it that way. They were bitterly
disappointed that the crown had been taken out of their region. And
although they could not marshal resources to get it back, they nursed
a form of resentment which got passed down to their descendants, all
the way down to the twentieth century.
But at the time Menelik wanted the Italians to recognize him as the
King of Kings of Ethiopia—an important consideration in order to
deny his Tigrean and other rivals the opportunity of getting firearms
and other help. On their part, the Italians were anxious to obtain the
new ruler’s recognition of the strip of land they had occupied in the
hinterland of Massawa. They were also hopeful that Menelik would
accept the status of an Italian protectorate. In the treaty that the two
sides signed in the same year in the locality of Wichale, the wishes of
the signatories were fulfilled with the exception of the protectorate
issue, which was worded in an ambiguous manner. Nevertheless, when
the Italians claimed that Ethiopia had become their protectorate,
Menelik protested and expressed repeatedly his determination to main-
tain independence.17 So Italy had no choice but to go to war to impose
its rule on a country that was not yet colonized by the major colonial
powers. The war of invasion started in 1895.
Ethiopia was in a much stronger position to face the Italians in 1895
than it had been before. It was under a strong state and its natural and
human resources had grown greatly. On 1 March 1896 the climax of

the war took place at Adwa. The Ethiopians won the day with a
resounding victory and that victory ensured their survival in the new
colonial era.18
175
Indeed, survive they did, but with a historic part of their polity
amputated by Italy. These were the highland districts and a consider-
able proportion of the lowlands of what became the colony of Eritrea.
The Ethiopians always regretted this fact in the future decades, much
in the same way the French bitterly resented the cession of Alsace and
Lorraine to Germany in 1871. When they got the opportunity after the
Second World War, the Ethiopians carried out a protracted diplomatic
struggle to win it back. They succeeded. In the meantime, however,
things had changed in Eritrea. The people were not exactly the same as
their grandfathers who had been separated from their Ethiopian breth-
ren at the end of the nineteenth century. Colonial rule had changed
their mentality and profoundly modified their sense of identity. And
this led to a protracted and bitter war to separate from Ethiopia—
another major theme of Ethiopian history in the second half of the
twentieth century.19
The victory of Adwa gave immense prestige to Menelik both at
home and abroad. The neighbouring colonial powers (Britain and
France) and the former aspirant colonizer, Italy, hastened to sign trea-
ties of friendship and boundary agreements. Thus, Ethiopia acquired
the shape it has today in the years following that victory. On
26 October 1896 Italy agreed to recognize the full sovereignty and

independence of Ethiopia and also agreed on provisional boundary

delimitation between Eritrea and Ethiopia. With Italy thus renouncing
its protectorate claims over the African polity, the British and the
French decided to follow suit, and they recognized the sovereignty and
independence of Ethiopia in 1897. In addition, they signed boundary
delimitation agreements (the British between their colony of British
Somaliland and Ethiopia and the French between their colony of
French Somaliland—today’s Djibouti—and Ethiopia). Later, two nego-
tiations were conducted with the British to delimit the boundary
between the Sudan and Ethiopia on the one hand (1902) and between
Kenya and Ethiopia (1908) on the other.
Menelik signed four delimitation agreements with Italy, three of
them regarding Eritrea and Ethiopia (1900, 1902, 1908) and the
fourth (1908) regarding Somalia and Ethiopia. These four agreements
with the Italians turned out to be constant sources of friction between
the two sides after they were signed since the Italians, unlike the British
and the French, were dragging their feet. They continued to harbour
expansionist designs towards Ethiopia and because there was no clear
176
demarcation, the boundaries between Ethiopia and the two former

Italian colonies became explosive issues in the first half of the twenti-
eth century, which eventually led to the brief Italian conquest of 1935–
41. And in a way we can say that both Eritrea and Somalia are prob-
lems that still haunt today’s Ethiopia.20
In any case, at the end of the nineteenth century, Ethiopia succeeded
in overcoming colonial pressures; it obtained international recognition
as a sovereign state, no mean achievement at the height of colonialism;
it got its boundaries delimited. And yet the underlying challenge
remained: modernization. There was growing realization among the
rulers that, if their country had to keep its independence, it had to
modernize.
The last years of the Menelik era to 1916

Menelik responded to that challenge, albeit in haphazard fashion,
partly because he was not prepared by background and by education to
confront the problem and partly because the parameters of moderniza-
tion escaped him. He therefore agreed to the building of a railway line
to the coast (construction started in Djibouti in 1897, the line reaching
Dire Dawa in 1902 and Addis Ababa in 1917), had telegraph and tele-
phone lines erected, started the process of modern education (the first
public school was opened in 1907), and acquired a number of techni-
cal tools (cars, machines) for which there was only scant need at the
time. A seminal measure he introduced was the establishment of minis-
tries and a council of ministers in 1907. This move was no more than
cosmetic at the time, but once introduced the institutions took a life of
their own. Therefore 1907 is taken as the year which saw the beginning
of the modernization of the millennia-old Ethiopian state.21
The regional foundation of the kingship since the coronation of
Tewodros in 1855 continued to characterize the monarchy. The court
in Addis Ababa was still regarded as a Shoan court. And this percep-
tion and the concomitant reality came out fully in the protracted suc-
cession strife that followed the incapacitation of Menelik from 1907
onwards. Menelik was getting old and he was also suffering from a
serious illness. The question of who would succeed him became urgent.
He addressed it by naming his grandson Iyasu (he did not have a son)
as his successor in 1909, a choice that was far from popular with var-
ious circles at the court. The powerful consort of the ailing king,
177
Taytu, wanted to keep the reins of power in her firm hands and Iyasu
was not her grandson. She started to jockey for position but, after a
period of crises, she was removed from power in 1910. Then there was
another attempt by Ras Abate (1911), which again generated a politi-
cal crisis. The forces loyal to the heir apparent overcame the challenge.
After 1912, Iyasu started to operate as the ruler of Ethiopia even
though the old king was still alive, if only barely. Menelik was suffer-
ing from a form of complete paralysis that had left him speechless and
unconscious. He finally died in 1913.
Born in 1897, Iyasu was only fifteen when he took the reins of
power into his hands in 1912. A couple of years later, the First World
War broke out, which complicated matters for the young ruler. He had
neither the experience nor the personal discipline that would have
allowed him to carry out his duties as a monarch. He surrounded him-
self with sycophants and alienated a large number of the powerful
lords by his irresponsible decisions and his unruly youthful behaviour.
The move that eventually undid him was his diplomatic approach to
Mohamed Abdille Hassan, dubbed the “Mad Mullah” by the colonial
authorities in British Somaliland. Iyasu also befriended several impor-
tant Muslim families and even visited mosques. This was not behav-
iour expected from a Christian monarch and it turned the Christian
nobility against him. In addition, his Islamic sympathies alienated the
colonial powers, since the Ottoman Empire was trying its best to use
its position as the seat of the Caliphate to turn Islamic communities
against France, Britain and Italy at the height of the Great War.22
Iyasu was overthrown by a coalition of lords in a coup d’état in
September 1916. The obscure daughter of Menelik, Zewditu, was
propped up on the throne while the young Ras Tafari Makonnen (the
future Haile Selassie) was designated as the heir apparent. For the next
fourteen years, the two ruled the country in uneasy tandem. And it was
only with the accession of Tafari to power in 1930 that Ethiopia can
be said to have truly entered the twentieth century.
In spite of its long history, Ethiopia entered the twentieth century
with a state ruled by a monarchy that was basically a Shoan monar-
chy. Its people, its chiefs and the newly incorporated provinces had not
yet adopted an Ethiopian national identity. The traditional national
ethos, symbolism and historical experience that constituted the foun-
dation of the identity of the people of the historic core of Ethiopia
could not easily be used for the newly incorporated people of the
empire because they had strong religious and ethnic traits, distinct
178
from those of the Shoans. These underlying factors gave the empire a
considerable fragility. Realizing these dangers, Haile Selassie was to
make serious efforts at creating a modern and secular Ethiopian
nationalism. He exerted tremendous efforts to make his court a truly
national institution. But he did not fully succeed because many of the
civil wars and conflicts which the country went through after the
World War II sprang precisely from the ethno-regional forces that
refused to accept the Ethiopian national identity.23
Whatever were the shortcomings of colonialism, Africa—with the
exception of Ethiopia—was initiated into modernization by the white
rulers. Unlike their brethren elsewhere on the continent, Ethiopians
were guided into the modern world by their own rulers who them-
selves did not have a deep knowledge of the new global forces. The rul-
ing class in the second decade of the twentieth century did not count a
single person with university education. Tafari inherited literally a
handful of Ethiopians with experience of travel to Europe where they
got some education. These were neither competent nor sufficient in
numbers for the enormous task of national transformation.
The economy was still largely at the stage of barter exchange. Crude
media of exchange (bars of salt, bullets, rifles, etc.) were also used. An
imported silver coin (the regionally circulating Maria Theresa thaler
coin) was used only for luxury items and for the purchase of strategic
commodities (firearms and land for example). With an economy not
yet monetized and no valuable minerals, Ethiopia would be hard put
to find the wherewithal for the financing of modernization. The exter-
nal environment was not very suitable, either. European powers con-
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believed that the best avenue for its development was colonization. The
international organizations—the UN, World Bank, IMF, etc.—that
were to lend money or provide assistance in other ways to the devel-
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182
7
THE ERA OF HAILE SELASSIE
Christopher Clapham
Origins and rise to power, 1892–1930

The mid-twentieth century in Ethiopia, from 1916 through to the rev-
olution in 1974, was dominated by a single man, Emperor Haile
Selassie. Despite efforts by successor regimes to expunge him from the
public record, he had a critical impact on the formation of modern
Ethiopia, and for many years was virtually coterminous with the coun-
try in the eyes of the outside world. His legacy, mixed and contested
though it is, remains central.
Despite the regal aura that he assumed after his accession to the
throne in 1930, he was not in the direct line of succession, and gained
power—like virtually all Ethiopian rulers of the last hundred and fifty
years—by force. He was the younger son of Emperor Menelik’s cousin
and close confidant Ras Makonnen, who until his death in 1906 was
governor of the strategically and economically vital south-eastern prov-
ince of Harar. His genealogical claim to the throne, such as it was,
derived from Makonnen’s descent through his mother from King Sahle-
Selassie of Shoa. The future Haile Selassie, who was known until 1930
183
by his given name of Tafari, was born near Harar in 1892, and received
a mixture of traditional church education and tutoring by Catholic
Capuchin friars. Although his father’s death when he was only thirteen
deprived him of both political and emotional support, he was clearly
destined for high office, and was himself appointed governor of Harar
at the age of seventeen. Already at that time he proved politically adept,
a slight, withdrawn, calculating individual, capable of holding his own
in the tangled and factionalized politics of the period that followed
Menelik’s mental disability and eventual death in 1913.
The brief reign of Menelik’s grandson, Iyasu, has inevitably been
obscured by that of his cousin and near contemporary. Since his over-
throw opened the way to Haile Selassie’s eventual rise to the throne,
demonizing him served to promote the legitimacy of his successor, and
he was generally dismissed during Haile Selassie’s reign as a serial
womanizer and secret convert to Islam. Conversely, Haile Selassie’s
detractors presented Iyasu as a far-sighted prince who sought to recon-
cile the longstanding divisions between Ethiopia’s Christians and
Muslims, in order to create a united Ethiopian nation. Even if Iyasu
had such a strategy, however, his tactics in pursuing it were disastrous.
He showed little interest in day-to-day administration, spending much
of his time travelling especially around the Muslim eastern regions of
the country, and ignoring the class of courtiers and aristocrats, over-
whelmingly Shoan and entirely Christian, who had acquired interests
and influence in an increasingly important central government. Though
Tafari was careful to protest his allegiance to Iyasu, his own power
base in Harar was deeply associated with Christian rule over a strate-
gically vital Muslim area, and was directly threatened by Iyasu’s
entente with Islam. The decisive break came in mid-1916, when Iyasu
removed Tafari from Harar and reassigned him to Kaffa—a wealthy
province in the south-west, but by no means Harar’s equal in political
terms. At the same time, Iyasu’s association with Islam and hence with
Turkey aroused deep suspicions from the British and French, especially
in the context of the First World War, in which Turkey was allied with
Germany. It also presented threats to Allied, and especially British,
imperial interests.
Tafari’s role in the coup d’état that overthrew Iyasu in September
1916 has never been fully elucidated. Characteristically, he remained
behind the scenes while others made the running, but he emerged from
the coup, which elevated Menelik’s daughter Zawditu to the throne,
184
with the title of ras and the status of heir to the throne. There is some
question as to whether he was also accorded the status of regent, but
in practice he became head of the central government administration,
within a complex political order in which he had little control over
provincial government outside his own fiefdom of Harar, and in which
his role even in central government was restricted by other powerful
actors, and major decisions had to be referred to the Empress. The
story of the following decade is one in which Tafari—presenting him-
self as the leader of the “modernizing” forces in Ethiopia, in contrast
to the “traditionalists” led by the Minister of War, Fitawrari Habte-
Giyorgis—gradually and skilfully accumulated power, until by 1930
he emerged as the unchallenged ruler.
One key element in this strategy was his control over Ethiopia’s for-
eign relations, and his use of external linkages mediated through the
leading foreign embassies in Addis Ababa, in order to compensate for
his relative weakness in domestic politics. His modernizing measures
always retained a cautious streak, and he was deeply aware of the need
to carry a consensus among leading political figures; but he was the
undoubted favourite of the British and French, the two colonial pow-
ers which with Italy (which always maintained a more ambivalent atti-
tude) at that time controlled all of Ethiopia’s neighbouring territories.
One important initiative was securing Ethiopia’s admission to the
League of Nations in 1923, a move which ultimately failed to secure
the country’s independence against Italian aggression, but nonetheless
marked its formal acceptance as an equal member of the community
of nations. It also had significant domestic political implications, in
that the main obstacle to Ethiopia’s accession was the issue of slavery,
the eradication of which helped to extend the control of the central
government, in which Tafari had the major role, over provinces gov-
erned by his rivals.
In 1924, Tafari embarked on the first extensive foreign visit by any
Ethiopian ruler, with a tour of Europe that included France, Italy and
the United Kingdom. He protected his position at home by taking with
him a large retinue, including two of the most powerful provincial rul-
ers, Ras Haylu and Ras Seyoum. Diplomatically the trip was a failure,
since he was unable to persuade the then colonial powers to allow
Ethiopia unrestricted access to the sea through any of their possessions;
he was however able to use Ethiopia’s membership of the League to
force the retraction of an Anglo-Italian accord that had sought, with-
185
out reference to Ethiopia, to define their respective spheres of influence

in the country. The most important result of the visit was to bring him-
self and his country to the attention of the European public, and also
to other Africans and people of African descent. The RasTafarian
movement in Jamaica reflected his name and title at that time.
Domestically, Tafari was preoccupied with the two key elements in
the construction of an effective central administration, money and
skilled personnel. By far the most important source of government rev-
enue was customs duties, which could be readily levied at the port of
entry, and did not entail the politically difficult task of extracting
resources first from the peasantry, and then from their immediate over-
lords. Tafari established a centralized customs administration, under-
mining the ability of provincial governors to raise money from both
foreign and domestic trade; he was greatly helped by the fact that the
railway from Djibouti, which after reaching Addis Ababa in 1916 rap-
idly became Ethiopia’s main trade artery, ran through the Harar region
which he controlled. The railway also enabled him to move loyal
troops rapidly to Addis Ababa at times of political crisis. In addition
Tafari had promoted an educated class of Ethiopian administrators,
recognizing that in this way he could build up a cadre of officials loyal
to himself, and thus undermine the power of other vested interests.
Most of these officials, who only reached high office after 1941, came
from relatively humble backgrounds, and were correspondingly depen-
dent on their patron for advancement. Among those who figured
strongly in the post-war government were Wolde-Giyorgis Walda-
Yohannes, who started his career as a dresser in the Menelik Hospital,
and the three brothers Makonnen, Aklilu and Akala-Warq Habta-
Wald. He founded a school named after himself, the Tafari Makonnen
School, in 1925, and took a close personal interest in the young
Ethiopians who were sent abroad for further education, most of them
initially to France.
Although Tafari effectively controlled the central government by the
mid-1920s, the provinces were another matter, since most of them
were ruled by well-established noblemen and notables who were all
but independent of central management. Jimma, and Benishangul on
the Sudanese border, were still governed by their pre-conquest Muslim
dynasties, under Sultan Abajifar and Sheik Khojali respectively. From
Yirgalem, Menelik’s fierce old Gurage general Dejazmatch Balcha
responded to repeated summonses to come to Addis Ababa, “If Tafari
186
wants me, let him come down here into Sidamo and get me”. Some
governors, especially in border regions such as Tigray, were even in a
position to maintain independent contacts with foreign powers: before
1935, the usual means by which Tigrayan notables travelled to Addis
Ababa was through Asmara and Massawa, by ship to Djibouti, and
thence by rail to the capital. But time was on Tafari’s side, and one by
one the autonomous rulers either died or miscalculated. When in 1928
Balcha arrived in Addis Ababa with a personal army of five thousand
men, his troops were induced to desert him and he was arrested—even-
tually to die fighting the Italians in 1936. When the last of the great
magnates, Empress Zawditu’s husband Ras Gugsa Wolle of Gondar,
came out in open rebellion in early 1930, Tafari sent against him a cen-
tral government army including a single aeroplane, piloted by a
Frenchman, which so terrified Gugsa’s troops that they deserted, leav-
ing him to be killed. The following day, Zawditu herself died, leaving
the way open for Tafari to assume the imperial throne.
Haile Selassie’s early reign: invasion, exile and restoration, 1930–1941

Marking a formal break with his earlier life, Tafari took the throne
name Haile Selassie, or Power of the Trinity, which was also his own
baptismal name. He immediately assumed a consciously aloof and
imperial demeanour, well suited in any event to his own character, and
a dignity which deserted him only under the most intense stress.
Despite the circuitous means by which he had attained the position of
supreme leadership, he constantly asserted—and gave every impression
of believing—that his authority derived directly from God. While
retaining an extremely shrewd and calculating political mind, he was
always deeply aware of the importance of the trappings of power.
The earliest public acts of the reign were designed to impress the
new ruler and his country on the consciousness of the outside world,
and in the process to establish his authority in the minds of his sub-
jects. The coronation—never in earlier reigns a particularly notewor-
thy event—was invested with a previously unknown level of pomp and
ceremonial, not least for the benefit of the foreign dignitaries, includ-
ing one of the younger sons of the British King George V, who came to
Addis Ababa for the occasion. Coronation day on 2 November subse-

quently became (along with liberation day on 5 May and the Emperor’s

birthday on 23 July) one of the three main public holidays of the

187
regime. The first anniversary, in November 1931, provided the occa-

sion for the public promulgation of Ethiopia’s first written constitu-
tion, a document largely drafted by a leading Ethiopian intellectual of
the time, Tekle-Hawariyat Tekle-Maryam, and based on the 1889
Meiji Constitution of Japan. It was presented as a gift by the Emperor
to his people, and the contemporary official iconography showed a
beam of light issuing from the Trinity (enthroned in the heavens), illu-
minating Haile Selassie (symbolically located at the mid-point between
heaven and earth), and diffused, in the form of the constitution, to the
masses waiting with outstretched arms below. The document both pro-
claimed Ethiopia’s modernity for external consumption and unequiv-
ocally insisted on the emperor as the sole ultimate source of power
domestically, arousing some disquiet from members of noble lineages,
who viewed him as no more than the first among equals. Although a
two-chamber parliament was established, this had no direct elections
and no more than titular powers.
As Emperor, Haile Selassie could undertake far more systematic
modernizing measures than had been possible when he was merely
regent. The remaining provincial lords who still retained some auton-
omous status were rapidly brought into line. The grasping Ras Hailu
made himself so unpopular with his own subjects in Gojjam that he
could be brought down; he was confined to Addis Ababa, while
Gojjam was handed over to Haile Selassie’s cousin and trusted sup-
porter Ras Imru. Ras Kassa, another cousin and member of the impe-
rial family whose genealogical claim to the throne was stronger than
Haile Selassie’s, was appointed to Gondar. In Tigray—always a special
case because of its distinct language, its close relations with Italian
Eritrea, and the hankering of its rulers for the imperial throne once
occupied by Yohannes IV—the daughter of Ras Seyoum was married
to Haile Selassie’s eldest son, while his local rival Dejazmatch Haile
Selassie Gugsa married the Emperor’s daughter. The wealthy province
of Jimma, still nominally ruled by Sultan Abba Jifar, was brought
under effective central control.
A flurry of other modernizing measures sought to convert Ethiopia
into an effective unitary state. A national currency was instituted, with
the conversion of the Egyptian-owned Bank of Abyssinia into the new
and government-owned Bank of Ethiopia, freeing Ethiopia from the
dependence on a fluctuating international silver market imposed by the
use of the superb Maria Theresa thaler. A road-building programme,
188
later overshadowed by that of the Italians, sought to bring the provinces

into closer touch with (and hence dependence on) the capital, and in
turn with the international market. For the first time, a significant for-
eign trading community, largely consisting of Greeks, Armenians and
Lebanese, was established in Addis Ababa. Increasing numbers of
schools were opened. Foreign advisers, drawn from many different
countries in order to lessen the risks of dependence on a single outside
power, were brought in to provide technical expertise in the reform of
the state apparatus. They came from countries including France,
Switzerland, the United States, the United Kingdom and Greece; the
most sensitive task, that of training a modern army, was entrusted to
Swedes and Belgians, whose countries did not harbour ambitions in the
region. None were recruited from Italy. The advisers’ task was a diffi-
cult one, not least because Ethiopians retained a considerable (and jus-
tifiable) suspicion of foreign motives, and in an era of colonialism few
Europeans were accustomed to working under African control. All in
all, nonetheless, the opening years of Haile Selassie’s reign can plausi-
bly be regarded as a period of rapid and fairly effective state-building.
This effort was completely overshadowed, however, by the threat to
Ethiopia’s independence presented by Fascist Italy. It may be doubted
whether Italy had ever completely abandoned the imperial ambitions cut
short by the defeat at Adwa in 1896, or had fully accepted Ethiopia’s
status as a sovereign independent state. At the time of Haile Selassie’s
visit to Italy as regent in 1924, when Mussolini had only recently
attained power, Italian proposals for Ethiopian access to the sea through
Assab so clearly reflected a colonial agenda that they were unacceptable
to the Ethiopians. Italian diplomatic reports during the 1920s presented
the picture of a backward and barbarous state, in terms that would jus-
tify intervention as a civilizing mission. A network of Italian consulates
in northern Ethiopia collected military intelligence and sought to estab-
lish close relationships with prominent local noblemen.
The state-building measures that characterized the first years of the
new Emperor’s reign thus also served a strategic purpose, to pre-empt
any claim by Italy to annex Ethiopia on “humanitarian” grounds. In
other respects, however, Haile Selassie’s diplomacy was unusually inept,
in that he failed to develop sufficiently strong relationships with either
France or the United Kingdom to induce them to offer significant resis-
tance to Italy’s increasingly evident ambitions. France would have been
the most suitable ally, since it had strong commercial links with
189
Ethiopia through Djibouti and the Franco-Ethiopian railway but had

no other territorial stake in the region, in sharp contrast to the British
with whom Ethiopia shared long frontiers in the Sudan, Kenya and
British Somaliland. British hegemony in Egypt also reinforced a long-
standing concern for the Nile waters, and hence for control of the areas
of north-western Ethiopia that drained into the Nile. Given that
European diplomacy was at this time intensely concerned with the ris-
ing threat from Nazi Germany, and that both Britain and France were
prepared to buy Italian support or at least neutrality by offering
Mussolini slices of their own territories in Kenya and Chad respectively,
it may be questioned whether any efforts on Haile Selassie’s part would
have been successful; but in any event, Ethiopian foreign policy placed
far too much emphasis on the paper guarantees against aggression pro-
vided by the League of Nations, which were to prove worthless.
A significant Italian military build-up in Eritrea developed from
1932, three years before the eventual invasion, with a lower level of
activity in Italian Somalia, which was very much a secondary front.
The first major diplomatic incident nonetheless took place in this area
in 1934, when a combined British and Ethiopian mission surveying
the frontier between Ethiopia and British Somaliland found Italian
troops occupying the watering place at Walwal in the Ogaden, well
inside Ethiopian territory. The subsequent clash was shrilly presented
by Mussolini as an example of Ethiopian aggression, even though the
wrong was entirely on the Italian side. To this and other provoca-
tions, Haile Selassie responded with determined resort to diplomatic
mechanisms, while taking great care to do nothing that could plausi-
bly be presented as provocation on Ethiopia’s part. The troops on
Ethiopia’s borders with Italian territories, for example, were held well
back from the frontier, so as to prevent any incident that could be
exploited for propaganda purposes. This did nothing to deter the
eventual invasion that was launched early in October 1935, at the
start of the traditional campaigning season after the end of the rains,
but it did at least ensure that this would be recognized as an unequiv-
ocal case of international aggression.
It said much for Haile Selassie’s nation-building efforts that only a
single Ethiopian notable, his Tigrayan son-in-law Haile Selassie
Gugsa, defected to the Italians; an almost united country thus con-
fronted the invaders. The discrepancy in modern weaponry was how-
ever decisive. In sharp contrast to the Adwa campaign forty years ear-
190
lier, when the Ethiopians were able to fight on terms that at least
approached the technological level of their enemies, the advent espe-
cially of air power had made a massive difference. The Ethiopian
armies were destroyed as much by bombing, and later by the extensive
use of the supposedly banned mustard gas, as by ground-based oper-
ations. Haile Selassie himself had no military credentials, and although
he moved his headquarters to Dessie, nearer the northern front than
Addis Ababa, he left the conduct of operations in the hands of the
Minister of War, Ras Mulugeta, and the principal provincial gover-
nors. Their troops overwhelmingly consisted of traditional peasant
levies, with no more than a small contingent from the newly trained
army. Eventually, with the northern front crumbling, Haile Selassie
felt obliged to conduct an attack himself, at Mai Chew in southern
Tigray in April 1936, as much for honour’s sake, and to fulfil the
expected obligations of an emperor, as for any hope of success. It pre-
dictably failed, and organized Ethiopian resistance on the northern
front collapsed. Haile Selassie, shocked and depressed, made his way
back by circuitous routes to his capital.
The decision as to what to do next, as the Italian armies closed in, lay
between going into exile and continuing the struggle from abroad, or
else retreating westwards with the remaining Ethiopian forces into areas
not yet occupied by the enemy. Some argued that continued resistance,
or a martyr’s death in the manner of Tewodros, was the only honour-
able course. Haile Selassie opted for exile, and although this earned him
some criticism for deserting his country in its hour of need, in the event
it proved to be the wisest option. Taking advantage of the fact that the
Italians had inexplicably failed to pursue their campaign in eastern
Ethiopia, from southern Eritrea or Somalia, energetically enough to cut
the railway line, he left Addis Ababa for Djibouti, where he embarked
on a British warship, leaving Ras Imru to retreat westwards to Gore in
order to maintain a formal presence within the country. On 5 May
1936, the Italians entered Addis Ababa, and established an east African
empire stretching from the Red Sea to the Indian Ocean.
After a stop in Jerusalem, Haile Selassie travelled to the United
Kingdom, which he left to address the League of Nations Assembly in
Geneva on 30 June. The speech to the League, drafted by Lorenzo

Taezaz, was the most memorable in that organization’s undistin-

guished history, and dramatically contrasted the promise of collective
security with the horrors inflicted on Ethiopia. Delivered with
191
unquenchable dignity, it established Haile Selassie on the world stage,

and presaged the forthcoming Second World War, while the poignant
question with which it ended, “What answer shall I take back to my
people?”, anticipated his eventual return. It did nothing, however, to
induce the League to take any effective action, or to restore the
Emperor’s own immediate fortunes. For the following four years, he
lived in exile in the small English city of Bath, remaining in touch as
best he could with resistance leaders within Ethiopia. Only after Italy’s
entry into the Second World War in June 1940 did he once more gain
an international role, when he was flown by the British to Khartoum
to help foster resistance to the Italians in Ethiopia.
The years of occupation counterpoise two linked narratives, those of
Italian empire-building on the one hand and Ethiopian resistance on
the other. Italian rule was from the start imposed with the brutality to
be expected of a Fascist state. Ethiopian leaders, including the Emperor’s
son-in-law Ras Desta, and the three elder sons of his cousin and confi-
dant Ras Kassa, were lured to surrender by promises of clemency, and
then summarily executed. An attempt on the life of the Italian Viceroy,
Marshal Graziani, by two Eritreans in February 1937 was followed by
a bloodbath in Addis Ababa, and the murder of many of Ethiopia’s
graduates and of the monks at the ancient monastery of Debre
Libanos. Predictably, this brutality was counterproductive, and the
Italians could never muster the manpower and organization that would
have been required to hold down by force a large country with spec-
tacular topography and very limited communications. Several leading
Ethiopians, including Ras Seyoum in Tigray and the discredited Ras
Hailu in Gojjam, were induced to accept titular office under the Italian
regime, but were never invested with significant powers. In 1938,
Graziani was replaced by the Duke of Aosta, a member of the Italian
royal family and by all accounts a humane and decent man, who
attempted to institute a policy of reconciliation. Though this repre-
sented a marked improvement, it came too late to bring about any
widespread Ethiopian acceptance of Italian rule.
Any hope that its East African empire might prove economically
beneficial to Italy was soon dissipated. Not only were the military and
administrative costs of maintaining the empire high, but Italy had nei-
ther the time nor the capacity to develop any significant sources of rev-
enue. The main legacy of empire was the road network, radiating out
from Addis Ababa, which represented a major feat of engineering and
192
for many years provided the backbone of the national transport sys-
tem. The urban infrastructure was likewise extended, especially in
Addis Ababa and in towns such as Gondar and Jimma that served as
regional headquarters for the Italian administration. But the attempt
to settle Italian peasant farmers in Ethiopia proved an abject failure,
and as Ethiopian resistance became increasingly organized and effec-
tive, so Italian administration largely retreated to the towns and the
lines of communication between them.
This resistance derived from the very earliest days of the occupation.
The rapid collapse of the imperial armies left Ethiopian governors still
in control of many parts of the country, while Ras Imru continued to
lead the titular government in western Ethiopia until his capture in
December 1936. Several officials in the imperial regime, including
Abebe Aregay and Takele Welde-Hawariyat, took to the countryside
and remained under arms throughout the five-year occupation, even
launching a daring though futile attack on Addis Ababa. The areas of
greatest resistance were the core highland regions of Shoa, Gojjam and
Begemdir, with the “patriots”, or arbeññyoch as they were called,
being especially active in Gojjam; but resistance took place throughout
the country, including Oromo and other areas conquered only in the
late nineteenth century, where the Italians sought—with some suc-
cess—to present themselves as liberators from Amhara imperialism.
The traditional woolly coiffure of the patriot fighters later became the
model for the “Afro” style in the United States and elsewhere.
Resistance bands under the command of particular patriot leaders,
even though they often co-ordinated their activities, did not add up to
any single organized campaign. Different leaders were fiercely jealous
of their own independence, and sometimes at odds with one another.
Some of them regarded Haile Selassie as having betrayed his country
by fleeing to Europe, and some of the more intellectual ones even dab-
bled in republicanism. Haile Selassie himself was too far away to exer-
cise any co-ordinating role. An impasse therefore remained, until
Mussolini’s entry into the Second World War on the side of Germany
in June 1940. This instantly transformed the situation, since on the one
hand the substantial Italian military force in north-east Africa gravely
threatened the British position in the Middle East, while on the other
hand this force was isolated from its homeland, and itself vulnerable
to extinction. Strategic considerations therefore dictated a rapid assault
on Italian East Africa, which despite the early Italian conquest of
193
British Somaliland could be launched from Sudan and Kenya. Haile

Selassie, still resident in Britain, provided an obvious focus for the
reconquest of Ethiopia and was flown out to Sudan, where he was only
grudgingly received by British officials still steeped in colonial atti-
tudes. On the broader diplomatic scene, however, and with an eye
especially on the United States, it was essential to present the defeat of
the Italians in Ethiopia as a liberation from Fascist rule, not merely as
an extension of the British Empire, and for this the Emperor was
indispensable.
The defeat of the Italians in north-east Africa proved rapid and deci-
sive. Largely the work of British imperial forces, in which the Indian
and South African armies played an important part, the major offen-
sives were from Sudan into Eritrea, and from Kenya into Somalia. The
decisive battle of the campaign, with heavy casualties on both sides,
took place around Keren in Eritrea. In the south, the attacking forces
advanced rapidly along the Somali coast to Mogadishu, then north to
Harar and Dire Dawa, and along the line of rail to capture Addis
Ababa on 6 April 1941. Haile Selassie entered Gojjam directly from

Sudan in January, as part of a small force under the command of the

legendary Orde Wingate, which included two battalions raised from
Ethiopian exiles. This route was chosen because of the strength of the
Ethiopian resistance in the province, and Haile Selassie—despite mis-
givings on the part of some of the patriot leaders—was once more
almost universally accepted as Emperor. He entered Addis Ababa on
5 May 1941, and resumed his imperial role. The final pocket of Italian

resistance, at Gondar, succumbed in November 1941.
The restored monarchy, 1941–60

The position in which Haile Selassie found himself in May 1941 was
an awkward one. Although he regarded himself as the emperor of an
independent state, and was so regarded by his people, he had been
restored to power by an army under British command, many of whose
commanders treated Ethiopia (along with Eritrea and Somalia) as
occupied enemy territory, and some of whom sought to incorporate
the country into the British colonial empire. With the Second World
War still in its early stages, Allied military control of the region was
strategically important, especially with respect to the campaign in
North Africa. Although British colonial ambitions were rapidly aban-
194
doned, and Ethiopia recognized as an independent state under the

emperor’s authority, he still needed British military and financial assis-
tance in order to re-establish his government. A formal agreement was
signed in January 1942, which while recognizing Ethiopia’s indepen-
dence still retained a special status for the British, as against other for-
eigners, notably in the military field and in the provision of foreign
advisers to the Ethiopian government. This struck at Haile Selassie’s
preference for playing different outside powers against one another
and avoiding dependence especially on any state with colonial ambi-
tions in the region. He invited an American, John Spencer, who had
briefly served as a legal adviser before the Italian invasion, back to
Addis Ababa, knowing well that the British—dependent as they now
were on the United States, in the context of war—were in no position
to object. British military assistance continued to be needed, notably in
1943 when the weyane rebellion in Tigray (whose name was subse-
quently given to the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, which claimed
to be the second weyane) was crushed with the aid of British aircraft.
A second agreement with the British in December 1944, by which time
any military threat to the region had disappeared, removed the status
accorded them in the 1942 agreement, though much of the Somali-
inhabited part of Ethiopia, known as the “reserved areas”, remained
under British administration for a further ten years.
Given the problematic nature of the relationship with Britain, which
until the early 1950s controlled all of Ethiopia’s neighbours save only
French Somaliland, Haile Selassie shrewdly turned to the United States
as an alternative source of support. The USA was at this time rapidly
expanding its global alliances, to exercise its new superpower status,
and—at a time when almost all of tropical Africa was still under colo-
nial rule—an ally in north-east Africa had much to offer, especially in
the context of burgeoning American concern with the Middle East.
The foundations were laid at a meeting between Haile Selassie and the
US President Franklin Roosevelt in Egypt in 1943, when FDR was
returning from the Tehran summit. Particularly important was a US
mission to train a modern Ethiopian army, on a scale significantly
greater than anything attempted before 1935. An Ethiopian detach-
ment performed well as part of the UN force in the Korean War, while
enabling the Emperor to demonstrate his commitment to the principles
of collective security that had so cruelly failed to protect Ethiopia
against Italian aggression in 1935. A further critical benefit was US
195
support for Ethiopian claims on Eritrea, in return for which the United
States gained a military communications facility just outside Asmara,
which until the advent of satellite technology formed a key link in its
global command and intelligence network. American development aid
was also forthcoming, especially for education.
The period from the end of the World War II through to 1960 rep-
resented the high point of Haile Selassie’s regime. Political power was
tightly concentrated in the palace, under the close supervision until
1955 of Wolde-Giyorgis Wolde-Yohannes, who held the ancient title
of tsehafe tezaz, translated as Minister of the Pen. Given his closeness
to the Emperor, formidable personality, and grasp of administrative
detail, Wolde-Giyorgis became effectively prime minister, even though
that post was formally held by a dignified but ineffectual nobleman,
Bitweded Makonnen Endalkachaw. He was the leading member of a
class of courtier-politicians through whom Ethiopia was governed
under Haile Selassie. Others included the Habte-Wold brothers, with
Makonnen as longtime Minister of Commerce, and Aklilu as Foreign
Minister and subsequently Prime Minister. Most of them came from
modest backgrounds, while some were recruited through the court and
the complex network of relationships that linked the Ethiopian aristoc-
racy and the imperial family. Most came from Shoa, though the influ-
ential Minister of Finance, Yilma Deresa, was an Oromo from Wellega,
and a few were Tigrayans; the core Amhara provinces of Begemder,
Gojjam and Wollo were almost entirely unrepresented. All were
Christian, a small number being Lutherans and Catholics, while the
great majority were Ethiopian Orthodox. None, however, represented
broader political constituencies, whether regional, ethnic, religious or
ideological; the entire system of government was intensely focused on
the palace, and its inevitable internal rivalries were fought out, not
over issues of policy or representation, but over factional squabbles for
the Emperor’s support. Although Haile Selassie was extremely adept
at manipulating factions within this narrow political elite, the conse-
quence was that the politics of the palace became increasingly divorced
from developments in the country as a whole, with eventually disas-
trous effects.
Overtly, the government was committed to the universal principles
of “modernization” and “development”, with special rhetorical
emphasis given to education, which was always closely associated with
the Emperor himself. The University College of Addis Ababa, later
196
extended to become Haile Selassie I University, was established in

1951, with colleges for agriculture, building, and public health. The
educational system as a whole, however, rested on a very narrow base,
with a high concentration in Addis Ababa and little presence at all
beyond the major provincial towns. Economic development was simi-
larly concentrated, especially in Addis Ababa and satellite towns along
the line of rail to the south. Although a “five-year plan” was promul-
gated as early as 1957, this amounted to little more than rhetorical
aspiration, and developments in the key area of agriculture were heav-
ily affected by the interests of major landowners, who in turn were
closely linked to the regime. The showpiece agricultural development
scheme, in the Awash valley south and east of Addis Ababa, consisted
essentially in large plantations for sugar (run by the Dutch HVA com-
pany) and cotton (run by the British company Mitchell Cotts). These
encroached heavily on the dry-season grazing areas of Afar and Kereyu
Oromo pastoralists, while also bringing significant financial rewards
to the Afar Sultan Ali-Mirah of Awsa. From the 1960s, an ambitious
Swedish aid programme sought to turn the Arsi highlands into the
breadbasket of Ethiopia, with considerable success in terms of
enhanced food production, albeit at the price of intensified class divi-
sions between landowners and the indigenous peasantry. It was symp-
tomatic that such initiatives could be launched in areas that had been
incorporated into Ethiopia during the late nineteenth century, whereas
the regime did not dare to touch historically Ethiopian highland
regions, in which land was controlled not by landlords but by the
Amhara or Tigrayan peasantry. The most agriculturally productive of
the Amhara regions, Gojjam, was also the most politically disaffected,
and even an attempt to measure land there in 1968 aroused a sponta-
neous peasant revolt, and had to be rapidly abandoned.
Nowhere were the political limitations of the regime more disas-
trously exposed than in Eritrea, which remained under British admin-
istration for a decade after its capture from the Italians in 1941.
Ethiopia had plausible claims on the territory, which would provide it
with independent access to the sea, both because parts of it had formed
part of Ethiopia for a very long period prior to 1890 and because it
had served as the base for attacks on Ethiopia in both 1896 and 1935.
The Tigrinya-speaking Orthodox Christian community of highland
Eritrea retained close links with northern Ethiopia, and formed the
core of a significant “unionist” movement (favouring union with
197
Ethiopia) which was supported by the government in Addis Ababa but

equally had a local base. Attempts by the great powers to agree on
Eritrea’s future foundered as a result of growing Cold War rivalries,
leaving the issue to be settled by the UN General Assembly, when US
support was critical in passing a resolution federating the territory with
Ethiopia—a solution that effectively made it part of Ethiopia, while
establishing a locally elected government with a high level of auton-
omy. This arrangement took effect from September 1952, giving
Ethiopia its own port for the first time since the loss of Massawa to the
Turks in 1555.
As a result of Italian rule, and also during the short period of British
administration, Eritreans had however developed a separate identity
from other Ethiopians. The British period, and the political process
aroused by protracted discussion of the territory’s future, had led to
the formation of an independent press and of political parties, both
completely absent to the south. Economic development was signifi-
cantly greater than in Ethiopia. The government in Addis Ababa was
quite incapable of developing any working relationship with an elected
and autonomous Eritrean administration, and systematically sought
to reduce it to the same level of dependence as other provinces within
the Empire. This goal was achieved in 1962, when (under heavy pres-
sure) the Eritrean assembly was induced to dissolve itself, and the ter-
ritory was placed under direct imperial rule. Success at one level, how-
ever, translated into catastrophe at another. Eritrean alienation from
the central government was already growing rapidly, and the suppres-
sion of the federation helped to push it into growing support for
armed opposition.
Attempts to provide an institutional framework for enhanced polit-
ical participation were no more than cosmetic. On the twenty-fifth
anniversary of his succession, in 1955, Haile Selassie promulgated a
revised constitution, under which for the first time the Chamber of
Deputies would be elected by popular suffrage; the Senate continued
to be appointed by the emperor. The new Constitution was in some
degree prompted by the federation with Eritrea, which had created an
embarrassing contrast between the popularly elected Eritrean admin-
istration and government of the rest of the country by an emperor who
claimed to rule as the “elect of God”. The executive branch of govern-
ment, however, continued to come entirely under the emperor’s con-
trol; there were no political parties, and the elected chamber could pro-
198
vide no effective representation of local issues or identities, or even

exercise its formal constitutional powers with regard to legislation and
the budget. So far from bridging the gap between the regime and the
people whom it governed, the new Constitution merely drew attention
to its unbridgeability.
By the late 1950s, the regime’s difficulties were becoming increasingly
apparent. Tsehafe tezaz Wolde-Giyorgis, who like many other strong-
men had started to presume on his position to an extent that offended
his master, was dismissed in 1955, removing a stabilizing presence at
the centre, and greatly intensifying the level of factional conflict. Rival
security chiefs, competing for the Emperor’s ear, increased the sense of
insecurity. Young educated officials were alienated by the regime’s
immobilism and—for the first time in Ethiopia’s history—looked envi-
ously to other parts of Africa that appeared to be making rapid prog-
ress towards democratic self-government. They sensed that Ethiopia,
once the pride of the continent, was being “left behind”. These tensions
erupted in December 1960, in a coup d’état that attempted to seize con-
trol of Addis Ababa while Haile Selassie was away on a state visit to
Latin America, depose him, and replace him with Crown Prince Asfa
Wesen at the head of a reforming government.
Central to the plot was a family relationship between Mengistu
Neway, commander of the imperial bodyguard, and his younger
brother Germame, epitome of the younger generation of radical mod-
ernizers. It very nearly came off. Most leading members of the regime
were enticed to the palace and immobilized, and only luck enabled
two other generals to escape and organize resistance based on other
elements in the armed forces. On this occasion, Haile Selassie’s tactics
of playing off rival factions, in the armed forces as elsewhere, served
him well. After a short but violent fight, the rebels were defeated, and
the Emperor returned to resume control. In a final act of violence, pre-
figuring the events of 1974, the rebels turned machine guns on the
notables imprisoned in the palace, killing many of them. It is very
doubtful whether, as was sometimes later claimed, the coup d’état
would, if successful, have led to a democratically modernizing
Ethiopia. Germame Neway and his colleagues had no democratic cre-
dentials, and viewed most of their fellow citizens as backward and
obscurantist. One of their first actions was to adjourn parliament
indefinitely. Their goal, like that of their successors fourteen years
later, was national transformation with themselves in command. They
199
did however shatter the illusion of permanence and stability that had
hitherto surrounded the regime.
The empire in decline, 1960–74

The period between the 1960 coup d’état and the 1974 revolution was
suffused with the sense of an era nearing its end. Haile Selassie was
already 68 years old in 1960, and—in a social structure and political
system highly dependent on individual leadership—there was no sign
of any likely successor. Though social change, and a measure of eco-
nomic development, continued, and the country (outside Eritrea) was
broadly peaceful, there was no evident solution to the political impasse
into which the regime had fallen. A number of token changes were
announced: in 1966 the Prime Minister, Aklilu Habte-Wold, was for-
mally accorded the power to appoint his own ministers, but this made
very little difference to the appointments, and did nothing to endow
him with any independent political status; a Ministry of Land Reform
was established in the same year, but was in no position to make any
changes that might challenge established interests. Despite his collab-
oration with the 1960 plotters, explained as having been “under
duress”, the Emperor’s eldest son Crown Prince AsfaWesen remained
heir to the throne, but he was in bad health, and had never in any
event shown any sign of the dynamism needed to rule and reform a
fractious country.
One significant pointer to the future lay in the growth of an active
and radical student movement. In December 1960, the students at the
University College of Addis Ababa had immediately and spontaneously
demonstrated in favour of the new regime. They were subsequently par-
doned by a forgiving Emperor, and for a while the student body
remained quiescent; but from the mid-1960s, aided by the expansion in
student numbers that followed the conversion of the Emperor’s former
palace into a new university campus, radical and sometimes violent stu-
dent protest became a regular occurrence. Marxism-Leninism became
the preferred, indeed almost universal, ideology of student radicals, and
the language in which the political issues of the day were discussed—the
national question, the land question—came to echo that of pre-Soviet
Russia. Indeed, the parallels between these two pre-revolutionary soci-
eties increasingly seemed evident. Ethiopian students abroad, both in
Europe and in North America, formed their own organizations, which
200
could debate the issues facing their homeland in terms unrestricted by

the surveillance that accompanied such discussions inside Ethiopia itself.
The different movements, though united in their Marxism, conceived
these issues in significantly different ways, which in turn affected the
vicious factional conflicts in early revolutionary Ethiopia.
Though students seemed to be—and indeed were—a small, privi-
leged and urban group in late imperial Ethiopia, they formed linkages
with other potentially dissident elements in Ethiopian society that
extended their beyond the politics of the campus. One important con-
stituency was junior army officers, who in the later years of the impe-
rial regime were often conscripted directly from secondary schools into
the military, and resented their inability to pursue civilian careers while
they retained contacts with their former classmates in the university;
army officers were prominent among those who attended evening and
part-time courses in the university, and several of these later emerged
in prominent positions in the revolutionary regime. The attempted
coup had in any event raised the political profile of the army, and on
several occasions during the 1960s the regime was forced to grant pay
increases to soldiers which it could ill afford. Searching for an issue
that would resonate beyond their own elite interests, student politi-
cians came up with the slogan, “land to the tiller”, directly taken from
the Russian model. Most students came from urban backgrounds, and
had little if any contact with the countryside, which they tended to
regard as a backward zone inhabited by traditionalist peasants; but the
call for land reform was to have an impact after 1974 that few of them
can have foreseen.
Most dangerously of all, students raised the “national question”, the
question of the identity, organization and place in the political order
of the different ethnic groups of which the country was composed. One
early form which this took was the creation of local self-help organi-
zations, in which city-dwellers from a particular group or area would
raise funds to pay for development projects in their places of origin.
Usually headed by a prominent official from the area concerned, and
operating within the conventions of the imperial system (by, for exam-
ple, soliciting donations to the project from the Emperor), they none-
theless helped to create hitherto absent connections on ethnic lines.
Some, notably the Gurage organization (which could draw on a
wealthy business community with a very high level of social solidarity),
were very effective. However, the creation in late 1966 of a pan-
201
Oromo organization, Macha Tulama, under the leadership of an

Oromo general instantly aroused government concern, and the organi-
zation was forcibly suppressed.
The situation in Eritrea never got entirely out of control during the
imperial era, as was to happen later, but nonetheless grew steadily
more difficult, escalating from mere banditry in the western lowlands
in the early 1960s to provide a serious insurgent threat by the early
1970s. In 1967, Haile Selassie spent a month in Eritrea, distributing
largesse and an aura of imperial benevolence throughout the prov-
ince—a characteristic and entirely ineffectual response to what was
basically a problem of political representation, which in turn the
regime was incapable of managing. Eritrean students in Addis Ababa
increasingly differentiated themselves from their fellow students, and
sometimes defected to join the Eritrean Liberation Front, which, how-
ever, at this time remained divided and ill-organized. The creation of
the EPLF, and its transformation into a formidable insurgent army,
was a post-revolutionary development. The neighbouring region of
Tigray was at this time governed by the dynamic Ras Mengesha
Seyoum, great-grandson of the Emperor Yohannes IV, who was mar-
ried to Haile Selassie’s granddaughter, and remained entirely loyal.
Elsewhere, there was a serious revolt in the southern province of
Bale between 1963 and 1970, fuelled largely by misgovernment and
land alienation, and supported from across the frontier by the newly
independent Somali Republic. This was eventually managed through a
combination of military containment and some political concessions—
the leader of the revolt, Wako Gutu, was given a minor imperial title
and left in peace—but without any fundamental rectification of the
conditions that had caused it. Most of Ethiopia remained peaceful, and
most student radicals believed—in keeping with Stalin’s writings on the
national question in the Soviet Union, in which they were well versed—
that ethnic conflict was basically no more than a manifestation of class
exploitation, and could be rectified by land reform.
While the imperial regime during the 1960s was coming under
increasing threat, its diplomacy was outstandingly successful. While
Haile Selassie and the empire he ruled seemed anachronistic to many
of his own subjects, in much of Africa he was a figure of legend; a
much published photograph showed the future Kenyan leader Jomo
Kenyatta, as a student in London in 1935, demonstrating against the
Fascist invasion of Ethiopia. He—or possibly his advisers, notably the
202
Foreign Minister Ketema Yifru and the Prime Minister Aklilu Habte-
Wold—recognized that this prestige could be tapped to raise the
Emperor, and hence the country, to a role of continental leadership.
This was achieved by the Addis Ababa summit of African heads of
state in May 1963, which established the Organization of African
Unity, with Haile Selassie as its first chairman, and Addis Ababa as its
permanent headquarters, and thus the diplomatic capital of Africa. The
advantages were more than personal: in particular, Ethiopia secured
almost universal support for the principle that the “territorial integ-
rity” of African states would be respected by their fellows, a principle
reinforced at the Cairo summit in 1964 by an explicit declaration that
African states would respect the frontiers inherited on their accession
to national independence. While this principle reassured the leaders of
newly independent states, with their artificial colonially-created fron-
tiers, it also provided Ethiopia with powerful continental support
against the Eritrean secessionists, and against the claims by the Somali
Republic (which had united the former Italian Somalia and British
Somaliland) to the vast Somali-inhabited area of south-eastern
Ethiopia. Much of Haile Selassie’s time in his later years was occupied
by a constant round of state visits and diplomatic meetings, but it is
doubtful whether this had any significant impact on the regime’s
inability to avert the coming cataclysm: its defects were structural, not
simply personal, and there was nothing by this time that an ageing
Emperor could do to correct them.
Ethiopia’s triumphs on the continental scene compensated for, but
did not remove, difficulties in its relations with its own neighbours. The
Somali Republic, coming to independence in a flush of national enthu-
siasm, claimed not only south-eastern Ethiopia but north-eastern Kenya
and French Somaliland (the Côte Française des Somalis, or the
Territoire Français des Afars et des Issas, as it was called at this time) as
part of its national territory. While any direct military threat was to
remain insignificant until the mid-1970s, covert Somali support for dis-
sident movements within Ethiopia (like the Wako Gutu rebellion in
Bale noted above) added to the regime’s problems. Somalia’s resort to
Soviet military assistance in pursuit of its territorial ambitions intensi-
fied the incorporation of the Horn of Africa into the Cold War struc-
ture of alliances, just at a time when with Ethiopia’s continued relation-
ship with the United States was being questioned in Washington, both
as a result of US involvement in Vietnam and because American policy
203
planners sought to avoid too close an association with a clearly failing

regime. It became progressively more difficult for Ethiopia to obtain the
US military aid that it sought in order to ward off the Somali threat,
and pursue the intensifying war in Eritrea.
Relations with the Arab world were also awkward, as indeed they
have always been for Christian Ethiopia. The Eritrean insurgency of
the ELF received considerable support from Iraq and Syria, which in
turn was brought into Eritrea through Sudan. Covert Sudanese back-
ing for the Eritrean rebellion was in turn countered by covert Ethiopian
support for the rebels in southern Sudan. The presence of African Arab
states in the OAU on the one hand limited their overt support for the
ELF, but on the other led to Arab leverage on African states in the con-
flict with Israel; when, late in 1973, the OAU recommended its mem-
bers to break diplomatic relations with Israel, over continued Israeli
occupation of Egyptian territory, Ethiopia reluctantly complied in
order to retain its standing in the organization.
The 1973 Arab-Israeli war, and the associated oil embargo and rise
in global oil prices, were among the factors that finally precipitated the
collapse of the imperial government in Ethiopia. Simultaneously, a seri-
ous famine in northern Ethiopia and especially in Welo—news of
which was suppressed by the government in order to avoid adverse
publicity, while no measures were taken the relieve starvation—under-
mined the sedulously promoted image of the Emperor as the caring
father of his people. A strike by taxi drivers, protests by teachers over
educational policy, disaffection in the lower ranks of the army, and the
perennial volatility of student politics, all helped to precipitate demon-
strations in Addis Ababa late in February 1974 that rapidly escalated
out of control. Haile Selassie responded by dismissing the Aklilu gov-
ernment, appointing first Endalkachew Makonnen (son of a previous
Prime Minister) and then the reformist nobleman Mikael Imru as
Prime Minister, and setting in motion a process of further constitu-
tional reform. The sudden opening up of the press, and an accompa-
nying wave of free discussion, debate and demonstration, encouraged
the belief that Ethiopia might peacefully be transforming itself into a
free and democratic country. This belief was always deluded: the brief
moment of freedom in mid-1974 represented no more than a sudden
release of pressure, unaccompanied by the changes in social attitudes,
creation of institutional mechanisms, or resolution of major underly-
ing policy issues that would have been needed to convert it into a new
204
and stable form of governance. Behind the scenes a committee of the

armed forces, soon to be known as the Derg, was being organized as
an alternative source of power. The progressive dismantling of the old
regime—known as the “salami revolution” because it proceeded slice
by slice—was the prelude not to the creation of a democratic Ethiopia,
but to the transfer of power to a very different kind of dictatorship.
Haile Selassie’s deposition and arrest on 12 September 1974 effectively

signalled the end of imperial Ethiopia, though the Crown Prince, who
was sick in London and never returned, was for a while formally
declared as his successor. One of the greatest of all Ethiopian rulers
was quietly murdered the following year.
Conclusion
The era of Haile Selassie continues to evoke contradictory attitudes.
For some, it was a period of peace and national unity, a golden age by
contrast with the upheavals and violence that followed, when Ethiopia
was governed skilfully and with a light hand, and its inherent conflicts
and contradictions were kept at least relatively under control. For oth-
ers, it was a period of repressive feudalism, built on injustice and
inequality, when government was dedicated to the service and glorifi-
cation of a single man, and opportunities to secure peaceful reform
were spurned. Symptomatically, after Haile Selassie’s body was recov-
ered from the old palace after the fall of the Mengistu regime, the gov-
ernment of Meles Zenawi—very much a product of the pre-1974 gen-
eration of disaffected students—refused to allow him a state funeral;
the legacy of hatred went too deep.
Yet there is very little question about the place of Haile Selassie in
modern Ethiopia: the judgement of history can already be grasped. His
reign represented the final stage in the construction of a centralized
imperial state. The project of Tewodros II, Yohannes IV and Menelik
II was finally achieved, and was moreover achieved with great skill,
and with the minimum of force required to subdue an always fractious
country. Despite the failure to avert the Fascist invasion and occupa-
tion, Haile Selassie was deeply aware of developments in the outside
world, and adapted to these in a way that primarily served his own
position, but in the process also generally advanced the interests of the
Ethiopian state. That he appeared to be an anachronism by the end of
his own reign, when he was 82 years old, was by no means so remark-
205
able as the fact that he remained in control of developments for so

long, and retained an ability to adapt to changes inconceivable in his
youth in late nineteenth and early twentieth century Ethiopia.
The problem was that this project of centralized imperial state for-
mation was itself deeply flawed, and its eventual achievement merely
revealed the weakness of its foundations. For one thing, by concentrat-
ing power so exclusively in his own hands, Haile Selassie prevented the
development of alternative political institutions—not that this would
have been an easy task, in a society so geared to personal leadership as
Ethiopia—and obstructed any process that might have permitted the
conversion of the emperorship into a constitutional monarchy, capa-
ble of surviving changes in political leadership. It was his own domi-
nance that made the abolition of the monarchy inevitable. More basi-
cally still, the project of imperial centralization destroyed any
mechanisms through which political power could be linked to chang-
ing social forces in a highly diverse country; there was no form of rep-
resentation, other than that provided by the inadequate and highly per-
sonalized operation of the imperial court. Politicians could acquire no
power base of their own, because that would necessarily challenge and
dilute their dependence on the emperor—a deficiency that was most
clearly illustrated by the failure to manage the federal structure in
Eritrea, but which equally applied to the rest of the empire.
But this empire itself was flawed. First of all, it was built on a legacy
of conquest that brought with it both an extremely unequal landhold-
ing system and a structure of governance that necessarily privileged a
central and largely Shoan elite; while the regime in fact constantly
evaded calls for reform, it is unlikely that it could have carried out such
reforms without fatally damaging its own existence. Even if the struc-
tures of social and economic inequality were destroyed, moreover, and
the system of imperial government entirely swept away, Ethiopia
would still face deep-seated problems in incorporating its diverse peo-
ples into any common and participatory political system. These prob-
lems were left to Haile Selassie’s successors. The judgement on his own
reign was that he did what he could, very skilfully, within the highly
constricting circumstances in which he operated, and which he was in
no position to transcend.
206
Badoglio, Pietro, 1937, The War in Abyssinia. With a Foreword by Mussolini,

London: Methuen.
Bahru Zewde, 1984, “Economic Origins of the Absolutist State in Ethiopia
(1916–1935)”, Journal of Ethiopian Studies, 17, pp. 1–19.
——— 2002, Pioneers of Change in Ethiopia. The Reformist Intellectuals of
the Early 20th Century, Oxford/Athens/Addis Ababa: James Currey/Ohio
University Press/Addis Ababa University Press.
Clapham, Christopher, 1969, Haile Selassie’s Government, New York:
Praeger, 1969.
Darley, Major H., 1969, Slaves and Ivory in Abyssinia, New York: Negro
University Press.
Del Boca, Angelo, 2012, The Negus: The Life and Death of the Last King of
Kings, Addis Ababa: Arada Books.
Gebru Tareke, 1991, Ethiopia: Power and Protest: Peasant Revolts in the
Greenfield, Richard, 1965, Ethiopia: A New Political History, New York:
Praeger. [Under a very general title, this is in fact an excellent contemporary
analysis of Haile Selassie’s regime by one of his personal advisers; it features
the only detailed history of the failed 1960 coup]
Halldin, V., 1977, Swedes in Haile Selassie’s Ethiopia (1924–1952): A Study
in Early Development and Co-Operation, Uppsala/Stockholm: Almquist &
Wiksell International Distributors.
Hess, Robert L., 1970, Ethiopia: The Modernization of Autocracy, Ithaca, NY
and London: Cornell University Press.
Kapuscinski, Ryszard, 1978, The Emperor: Downfall of an Autocrat, New
York: Vintage Books.
[Reprinted by Penguin Books, 2008. Although factually inaccurate, this is a lit-
erary mood piece which powerfully evokes the declining years of the Haile
Selassie regime]
Marcus, H.G., 1983, Ethiopia, Great Britain, and the United States (1941–
1974): The Politics of Empire, Berkeley: University of California Press.
——— 1987, Haile Selassie I: The Formative Years (1892–1936), Berkeley:
University of California Press.
Mockler, Anthony, 1984, Haile Selassie’s War, New York: Random House.
Perham, Margery, 1969, The Government of Ethiopia, Evanston, IL:
Northwestern University Press.
Sbacchi, Alberto, 1985, Ethiopia Under Mussolini: Fascism and the Colonial
Experience, London: Zed Press.
Spencer, John H., 1984, Ethiopia at Bay: A Personal Account of the Haile
Selassie Years, Algonac, MI: The American Library.
Steer, G.L., 1936, Caesar in Abyssinia, London: Hodder and Stoughton.
207
8
THE ETHIOPIAN REVOLUTION

AND THE DERG REGIME
Gérard Prunier
The word “revolution” has been overused and misused during the
course of the twentieth century, to the point where it ended up losing
its initial meaning: “a radical upheaval of the political and social order
using violent means”. This is one of the reasons why the unique and
surprising political upheaval that took place in Ethiopia in the last
quarter of the century has often not been properly taken into perspec-
tive. The event was unique in Africa1 where, even if some of the anti-
colonial struggles had been wrapped in “socialist” trappings, they
were aimed primarily at removing colonialism. The case of the former
Portuguese colonies is particularly noticeable from that point of view.
In spite of the Marxist-Leninist rhetoric of the Frelimo, the MPLA and
the PAIGC—and the Soviet Bloc support they enjoyed—it was easy to
analyze the social transformation that took place as a simple appro-
priation of the colonial state by a native African bourgeoisie, at times
with strong internal neo-colonial traits. The social order that was
being fought was essentially that of a foreign domination. But its elim-
209
ination was not accompanied by any serious attempt at a radical social

transformation.
This was completely distinct from what took place in Ethiopia where
the revolution, even though it ended in a bloody military dictatorship,
nevertheless aimed, from its very beginnings, at a radical transforma-
tion of the post-feudal order embodied by Emperor Haile Selassie. A
further cause for the present lack of interest—or even of understand-
ing—concerning what the revolution was all about is the discrediting
of the very idea of socialism since the collapse of the Soviet Bloc.
“Communism” is not seen in the early twenty-first century as a utopia
but simply as a form of totalitarianism. Its motivating social reformist
outlook, perverted and bent out of shape as it might have been by the
practice of Stalinism, is today completely discounted or seen as a form
of mental aberration that only affected naïve souls. And since the
Ethiopian brand of “socialism” was probably the most brutal apart
from the Cambodian version, its deeper initial social nature has been
completely occulted by its later descent into violence.
The problem is not to “rehabilitate” the Ethiopian revolution (too
many of its policies cannot withstand any form of ethical questioning).
It is rather to reassess a phenomenon that is now doubly misunder-
stood because of our contemporary ideological transformation, and
because of the difficulty to comprehend the mind-frame of the actors
at the time.
The causes of the revolution

Why did Ethiopia experience a genuine social revolution while this
phenomenon remained unknown elsewhere on the African continent?
Basically because the history of the social structures of Ethiopia is in
fact closer to those of Eastern Europe than to those of the African con-
tinent. This parallel that brings Ethiopia close to Russia actually
became so evident during the years of the revolution that it struck the
Russians themselves who at times were completely fascinated by traits
that strongly reminded them of historical situations that ran similar to
aspects of their own history and culture. This ran from the Byzantine
cultural underpinnings of both cultures to the Russian participation in
Menelik’s conquests. And of course to the later course of a revolution
which fascinated the Russians.2 But if we had to summarize in a single
sentence the main cause of the revolution we could say, imprecise as
210
THE ETHIOPIAN REVOLUTION AND THE DERG REGIME
this would be, that it came from the incapacity of a post feudal socio-
political system to modernize itself when faced with the challenges of
the transformations of the second half of the twentieth century.
That system was strongly defined and coherent, solid as long as it
held but also rigid and coercive when it became dysfunctional. It
was a traditional authoritarian monarchical institution which, in its

unabashed absolutism, seemed to belong more to pre-modern Europe

than to “Africa”. Hence the focus on the person of the Emperor who,
even though he was not the cause of the revolution, nevertheless rep-
resented, by his social conservatism and his personal anachronism, a
living symbol of the systemic dead end where the country had become
locked towards the end of his reign.3
Paradoxically one of the first causes of the revolution was the
Emperor’s success in re-centralizing the empire after the Italian defeat.
Since the end of the zemene mesafint (era of the princes) in 1855 the
re-centralization of power had been at the heart of all the political—
and military—efforts of Tewodros, Yohannes and Menelik. All three
of the modernizing Neguses had slowly built up a kind of “imperial
Jacobinism”, bringing more power to the centre and slowly whittling
away what was left of it on the periphery.
The Second World War and the British intervention presented Haile
Selassie with a unique occasion to de-feudalize Ethiopia; which did not
mean at all to democratize it but more simply to centralize it. The suc-
cess of this process brought with it a new burden. Centralization
was accompanied by a heavy expansion of the imperial bureaucracy

and of the army.4 The costs of these new structures were high and,

somewhat in the way of France before the 1789 revolution, implied a

reassessment of the whole tax base. While the feudal nobility had
seen its wings increasingly clipped both militarily and administratively,

its e conomic weight remained enormous and it had no intention to

accept added taxation whose burden, once more, had to fall on the
peasant masses.
The economy remained archaic and industry, which was a new post-
war phenomenon, employed barely 60,000 people on the eve of the
revolution and represented only 15 per cent of GNP. Almost 70 per

cent of investment was in the hands of foreign capitalists and the

Ethiopian capitalists were mostly aristocrats who played the role of
local partners but had no real autonomy. The regime had tried to
develop a modern agriculture and the various economic plans5 had
211
massively favoured the mechanized sector at the expense of traditional

agriculture. But modern mechanized agriculture operating on large
acreages represented only a tiny proportion of the food production and
tended to focus on export crops or raw materials for the nascent agro-
industries. These tended to serve the limited needs of the urban popu-
lation which could afford to purchase its products. This agricultural
“modernization” relied on both the land and the capital coming from
the nobility and had led to what René Lefort called “a form of mech-
anized feudalism”.6 The economy remained split between a large tra-
ditional agricultural sector living essentially at the level of subsistence7
and a small “modern” sector linked to urban consumption and export.
Demographic growth kept pushing new waves of population
towards the cities, at a level that was lower than in the formerly colo-
nized parts of Africa but was still far from negligible. In the twenty
years preceding the revolution Addis Ababa had grown from 300,000
to 700,000 and several provincial towns (Bahir Dar, Shashamene, Dire
Dawa) had more than doubled in size. But the growth of the monetary
sector of the economy had not kept pace and urban unemployment
was running at 40–50 per cent. At the same time as the economic sub-
stratum was tensing up under the effects of a surface “modernization”
which did not improve the lives of the peasants or those of the unem-
ployed urban masses, the Emperor, still in the name of that same
“modernization”, kept introducing new administrative reforms which
increased the tensions without bringing visible benefits.
Education had developed considerably but without the young grad-
uates seeing their chances of employment increase in proportion to
their years in school. The state was obsessed with mere statistical prog-
ress in education. Enrolment numbers would grow 10 per cent per year
in primary education and 15 to 20 per cent in the secondary system.
But since the budget did not keep pace, per capita spending per student
actually decreased, the whole thing resulting in the mass production of
larger and larger numbers of poorly educated school-leavers who could
not find jobs. Further up, in spite of a very severe policy of selection at
university entrance exams, the result was to inflate the numbers of stu-
dents who ended up in a social cul-de-sac. In the radical political cli-
mate of the 1960s, this gave birth to a large militant student movement
which was to have an even greater impact on Ethiopian society than
their comrades had in Berlin, Paris or Berkeley.8 This was because this
semi-educated and radicalized youth was facing not the development
212
of the capitalist mass-consumption society but rather something more

akin to the 1905 Russian aristocracy. The old feudal elite was at times
trying to really modernize itself through its association with foreign
investors; but most of the time it was content to occupy the key
bureaucratic positions of the administration upper ranks where it
would keep playing a “new” bureaucratic version of the old feudal
quarrels of yesteryear. To offset their power, the Emperor, who was
still obsessed with keeping all the threads of power ultimately in his
own hands, played the card of the educated young men who were
beginning to filter up from the small middle class and the lower ranks
of the aristocracy.
These “new men”, in the Roman sense, were fighting each other and
clashing with the old aristocracy, all for the greater benefit of the
Emperor who, through these palace intrigues, managed to keep the
whole system under his personal control. But the end result was to
combine a heavy Byzantine-type bureaucracy with the inefficiency of
permanently feuding administrative factions. Institutions such as “the
Parliament” or “the Constitution” were hollow structures which had
created expectations they could not satisfy. The press, professional
associations and trade unions were kept under tight control by a nit-
picking security system which tended to paralyze social interaction and
to breed frustrations. The system remained broadly efficient at han-
dling the status quo but extraordinarily incompetent at facing change
and modernization.
This left the army as a key separate element of the social order. The
Ethiopian army was certainly the best on the African continent, apart
from South Africa. Well trained and well equipped through American
help, the military institution intimately embodied the contradictions of
the global Ethiopian society. The superior officers were graduates from
the Military Academy in Harar and would complete their training by
attending advanced courses abroad, particularly in the US. Middle-

ranking officers, coming from less well-to-do families, were trained at

the Holeta Military Academy, less prestigious than the Harar one. As
for the NCOs and the rank-and-file soldiers who came from the urban
proletariat or the peasantry, they were trained directly within their
units. Army salaries were not very generous and were supplemented by
private family resources in the case of the officers. But this army was
an operational army which had not stopped fighting over the last
twenty years, either on the country’s borders (the 1963–64 war with
213
Somalia) or in the repression of various insurrections, the most com-

plex of those being of course the Eritrean revolt.9 Militarily, dissidence
in Eritrea had slowly began to move from the level of a revolt to that
of a full-scale war and the army felt ill-treated and ill-considered, given
its constant efforts and sacrifices. Organized and conceived as an ele-
ment in the centralizing policy of the state, the army could not but be
viscerally aware of the difficult nationality problem which the high-
handed attitude of the Shoan Amhara nobility seemed to consider as a
non-issue. As a result the armed forces were in a complex situation:
riven by unacknowledged class-conflicts, fiercely nationalistic and
attached to the centralizing policy of the state, they were also humili-
ated by their perfunctory treatment at the hands of the Emperor and
of the high nobility which took them for granted. These forces were
heavy with anger, suffering and frustration. And they had guns.
A spontaneous popular uprising starts the revolution (1974)

Against this background of progressive social slippage and muted con-
flicts specific events started to trigger developments resulting in unex-
pected consequences. The first of these was the 1972–3 food shortage
which slowly grew to famine level. The results of the famine did not by
themselves trigger the revolt. It was limited to Wollo and Tigray and
worse famines had occurred before.10 But the dearth of food products
drove prices up over the whole national territory, not just in the fam-
ine areas. Besides the media development and the increased political
consciousness there were more critical attitudes to a hitherto highly
respected sovereign. The 1973 famine was severe even if definitely less
damaging than the 1888–92 one. But it was the first one in Ethiopia’s
history to be strongly mediatized both inside the country and abroad.
The image of Emperor Haile Selassie as “Father of the Nation” was
brutally dented by the reality of the old man’s callous senility. The con-
trast between the prestigious international image of the Emperor, the
luxury in which he and his courtiers were living and the indifference
towards the tragedy his people was going through combined to create
a disastrous effect.11 For the first time the slogans of the student move-
ment, which had so far seemed almost sacrilegious to the ordinary pop-
ulation, began to bite into the public consciousness. A second factor
which played a significant role in the situation was the 1973 oil shock
which led to a massive rise in petrol prices. In Addis Ababa the price of
214
petrol at the pump jumped by 95 per cent on 1 February 1974, and the

drivers of the collective taxis which made up most of the public trans-
port system were not allowed to raise their prices to offset the cost.12
And, at the same moment, the Ministry of Education announced a
reform aimed at limiting the number of the students allowed to enrol,
which threatened both their immediate situation and their future since
teaching was one of the main outlets for the overflow of young gradu-
ates. The taxi drivers and the teachers both decided to go on strike on
the same day, 18 February. In an already tense situation, thousands of

demonstrators poured into the streets, goaded on by the revolutionary

students. The small urban working class of Addis Ababa joined in after
a call to strike was aired by the Confederation of Ethiopian Labour
Unions (CELU). The CELU was a very moderate and reformist orga-
nization, without the slightest Marxist leanings. But the Emperor had
never allowed it to unionize the civil service and it felt that this was a
great opportunity to enter a domain so far inaccessible. In a few days
the CELU’s membership went up by 40 per cent and reached 120,000
members. By then everybody had taken to the streets, from the lower
ranks of the clergy to the prostitutes, in what quickly became a mix-
ture of socio-economic demands and a mass psychodrama in which the
general public was shouting down a stale and moth-eaten regime that
had no more capacity to offer a future. The Emperor seemed to be in
a state of shock. He did not seem to understand what was going on
and he gave up on one thing after another. He arbitrarily brought gas
prices down, gave up on the reform of the educational system, accepted
the unionization of the public service and replaced his unpopular Prime
Minister Aklilu Habte Wold with Endelkatchew Makonen. But it was
very late in the day and the shadow of the praetorians was beginning
to loom on the revolutionary scene.
A first military mutiny had taken place way down in Sidamo in mid-
January and had received no attention.13 But on 25 February the 2nd

Division which was fighting in Eritrea mutinied as a corps. A feverish

agitation spread among the units and several started to ask for a salary
increase. But the demands soon went beyond simple material ones.
Between March and June 1974, several dergs (committees) were cre-
ated in various regiments. They had different ideological and political
colorations, ranging from simply reformist organizations to violently
revolutionary ones.
The “First Derg” under Colonel Alem Zewde was a middle of the
road one, aiming at a structural reform of the army but without chal-
215
lenging the authority of the Emperor. Even this was too much for the
conservative groups at the court who countered by creating another
structure under Brigadier Abebe Abiye, who had been in charge of
repression in the army after the coup of 1960. Brigadier Abebe Abiye’s
group was supposed to devise a programme of repression within the
army to bring it back in line and reassert the authority of the Emperor,
as had been done fourteen years before.
But the times had changed and soon a “Second Derg” appeared,
regrouping in a clandestine organization middle ranking officers and
even NCOs who shared a radical left-wing revolutionary orientation.
Those three groups started to struggle among themselves for control of
the newly Provisional Military Administrative Council (PMAC) which
had been set up to bypass the Army General Staff. The PMAC relied
on the armed might of the 4th Division in the capital and on 26 April it

arrested over two hundred civilians, high-ranking members of the civil

service and aristocrats. By then, the target of the PMAC revolutionar-
ies was now not even the imperial power—which had been so weak-
ened—but their moderate rivals who were trying to set up a constitu-
tional monarchy or a conservative republic.
By July, in the hope of staving off the rapidly increasing slide to the
left, the Emperor accepted the resignation of his Prime Minister and his
replacement by the “Red Prince”, Ras Mikail Imru, an aristocrat
known for his broadly reformist views. Ras Imru was the last chance
for the reformist cause. To control the rise of the radical military, he
fired Brigadier Abebe Abiye and replaced him as Defence Minister by
a popular military hero, General Aman Andom.14 General Andom was
not a Derg member. But his trip to Eritrea, where he was welcomed by
enthusiastic crowds, was a success. This did not please the radical offi-
cers who combined simplified left-wing views with a rabid form of
nationalism. They suspected General Aman Andom of favouring some
form of autonomy for Eritrea and they countered it by launching a vio-
lently nationalist programme dubbed Ityopia Tiqdem, “Ethiopia First”.
Meanwhile the Derg, which felt it had to destroy the imperial mys-
tique before deposing Haile Selassie, had launched a massive psycho-
logical campaign aiming at destroying the aura that still surrounded
the old monarch. He was accused of being a thief,15 of being indiffer-
ent to the recent famine16 and of having fled abroad in a cowardly way
at the time of the Italian invasion. Endelkachew Makonen and several
members of the former government and nobility were arrested while
216
businesses belonging to the imperial family were nationalized. The old

Emperor appeared stunned. Several times he refused either to flee
abroad or to arrest the PMAC leaders, not seeming to comprehend the
process that was unfolding.17 On 12 September he was arrested and

taken into custody. His death was announced on 27 August 1975, sup-

posedly from natural causes.18

General Aman Andom was made Prime Minister in replacement of
Ras Imru. The 1955 Constitution was abolished, the parliament was
dissolved and on 19 October 1974 special courts martial were created

to try people who were to be charged for conduct relating to the fam-
ine. All strikes became illegal and a curfew was instated.19 Hundreds
of former government dignitaries were arrested. The PMAC then
announced that all the students were to be mobilized in the so-called
zemetcha (campaign) and “collaborate in educating the masses”. This
was in fact the beginning of what Professor Edmond Keller has aptly
called “a socialist revolution by the back door”.20
Why had the army come to embody a revolutionary movement
which had started as a genuine popular movement? A good summary
was given by Claudio Moffa when he wrote:
In spite of the clear political character of their demands, neither the students
nor the working class nor other sections of the urban population (not to
speak of the peasants) had managed to give birth to a coherent organization
that could operate nationally…. In this situation, the power vacuum that
had happened could not be filled by any other social group except the Army,
the only organized force existing in the country. And it was with this Army
that all “parties” would henceforth have to deal with.21
The students, who had begun to realize that the army had no inten-
tion to share power with them, began to agitate for the creation of a
new civilian government. The CELU had come to the same conclusion
and started to support the students’ demands, trying to launch a gen-
eral strike. The strike was nipped in the bud by the army which
arrested all the trade union leaders. The air force, whose personnel was
more highly educated than the land army, began to get restless and the
PMAC started to arrest “counter-revolutionary officers”.
By then General Aman Andom had paradoxically become the last
obstacle to a military dictatorship. He was deposed as Prime Minister
and died resisting arrest on 23 November while, on the same day, the

Derg shot sixty of the former top politicians and members of the aris-
tocracy in an Ekaterinburg-type massacre.
217
On 20 December the PMAC announced its Ten Points Programme,

defining the aims of the Ethiopian Revolution as the army saw it. In
the name of hibretesebawinet (“socialism”), a new word it had just
invented, Ethiopia would remain united (this was for the Eritreans),
the state would take total control of the economy and a great national
socialist party would be created. The next day the new regime
announced that all the students enrolled for the zemetcha campaign
would be sent to the countryside, to give literacy classes to the peas-
antry, safely far from the cities. The army did not want any “socialist”
rivals in the urban areas where its power was being established. The
popular revolution had ended and the new secret military junta had
taken over.22 The civilian component of the revolution now realized it
would have to fight for its life.
“White Terror” against “Red Terror”: the struggle for the control
of power (1975–8)
How can we define the group of people who had taken power through
this lopsided struggle? It was of course a military group. But it was not
the “military elite”, as is often the case in military coups in Africa or
the Middle East.23 The Derg was a conspiratorial group of junior offi-
cers and NCOs that carried its own “class struggle” within the military
establishment itself. It was mysterious and by the end of 1974 only the
name of its President, Teferi Bante, had been made public. Nobody
was really sure of its real structure and the first Vice-President,
Mengistu Haile Mariam, later to emerge as the real leader, was at first
half hidden in the shadows.
The internal convulsions of the “Committee” remained secret, all the
more so as they became bloodier and bloodier. The first victim had
been the first organizer of the Derg, Major Tefera Tekle Ab, who “dis-
appeared” in 1974. By mid-1975 three key leaders—General Getachew
Nadew and Majors Sisay Habte and Kiros Alemayu—were killed. The
Derg President, Brigadier-General Teferi Bante, was shot during a gun-
fight inside the old Imperial Palace in February 1977 where eight mem-
bers of the “Committee” were killed. It was then that Lt Colonel
Mengistu Haile Mariam began to come out of his grey comfort zone
and to show himself as the hidden hand behind these purges. The final
figure of this deadly ballet was reached in September 1977 when Vice-
President Colonel Atnafu Abate was himself executed, in the company
218
of forty-six other officers. Mengistu Haile Mariam had finally emerged

as the undisputed master of the bloody junta.
But these internal spasms were not occurring in a political void. The
Derg had all the while to contend with the organized elements of the
civilian movement that had preceded it and was trying to survive under
the military dictatorship. There were many groups24 but two especially
played a major role, Mei’son25 and the Ethiopian Peoples Revolutionary
Party (EPRP). Mei’son was close to “orthodox” Communist Parties
and had a strong French tinge.26 It also had a largely Oromo member-
ship, something that would later open it to accusations of “nationalist
deviationism”. The EPRP was the direct descendant of the Ethiopian
Student Association in the US. It was also more “leftist”, in 1960s par-

lance, and its membership tended to be more Amhara. This resulted in

a number of tactical choices. Mei’son displayed a measure of concern
for “revolutionary legality” while the EPRP tended more towards a
conspiratorial approach. Mei’son was closer to the centralizing poli-
cies of the military while the EPRP tended to be open to the Eritrean
struggle. Mei’son, in true Soviet tactical style, believed that Ethiopia
was not yet ready for a full socialist revolution, while the EPRP was
“maximalist” and demanded the immediate establishment of a full
Communist society. Given this logic Mei’son felt it could collaborate
with the army “to create the objective circumstances of the transition
towards a genuine socialist society” while the maximalist EPRP was
soon to plunge into an armed face-off with the Derg. These were gen-
uine differences in revolutionary strategy that the Derg, which cyni-
cally used the socialist phraseology for its short-term tactical power
gains, could not have cared less about.
All industries and trade were nationalized and the “bourgeois”
CELU was disbanded and replaced by a “revolutionary” trade union
confederation, the All-Ethiopia Trade Union (AETU), totally controlled
by the army. On 4 February 1975 all land was nationalized and distrib-

uted to the peasants.27 Faced by such an array of “socialist” measures,

even if they were taken largely in a short-term tactical perspective, it
was difficult for the civilian groups to dissent.28 This is where the part-
ing of the ways between Mei’son and the EPRP became unavoidable.
Mei’son, faithful to its “gradualist” approach, accepted to work with
the Derg while the EPRP branded the army as “fascist” and embarked
in a policy of open confrontation with the rising dictatorship. Mei’son
and the small groups cultivated by the Derg agreed to enter into a new
219
structure, the Political Office for Mass Organization Affairs (POMOA),

imagined by the army as an organization to “mobilize the masses”. The
EPRP refused to collaborate and plunged into the armed struggle. The
small party was well grounded in the cities, particularly in Addis
Ababa, where the educated youth was largely behind it.
On 16 September 1976 the EPRP, now branded as “anarchist”, was

declared to be “an enemy of the revolution”. This was the beginning of

an urban civil war where the Derg unleashed its own “Red Terror”
against the alleged “White Terror” of the youth organization.29 From
late 1976 to the end of 1978, Ethiopia was to live through two partic-
ularly atrocious years. In true revolutionary fashion the EPRP was sure
that the Derg, which did not have deep popular roots, could not survive
an armed confrontation. It started killing army officers at random and
the regime answered these killings blow for blow. The violence started
as a precise targeted exchange, but with an escalation in the killings it
became broader and less precise. The families of the militants often
became victims of their sons’ engagement. The EPRP started to recruit
children as killers and the Derg went as far as replying by the indiscrim-
inate massacre of entire classrooms of school children, “for the exam-
ple”. The horror reached a kind of apex during the few days of 20 April

to 1 May 1977 when more than one thousand students and secondary

school pupils were massacred to stop the EPRP from sabotaging the
May 1st “popular demonstration” the regime had planned. Those terri-
fying years were to have a durable effect on Ethiopian collective psy-
chology and to deeply alter the population’s perception of politics.
The bloodletting had reached such frantic levels that the country
seemed to be on the brink of some kind of a total collapse. This
tempted the Somali dictator Mohamed Siad Barre into intervening and
trying to wrench the Somali-populated region of the Ogaden from
Ethiopian control.30 For several years Siad Barre had been remote con-
trolling a Somali guerrilla movement in Ethiopia, the Western Somali
Liberation Front (WSLF). But in July 1977 he stopped pretending that
the WSLF was “Ethiopian” and sent his regular army in support of a
general guerrilla offensive in the Ogaden. For a time, the situation of
the Derg looked desperate, not because of the WSLF alone, but because
the enemies of the “Socialist” military had been multiplying over the
last few months. The urban areas, as noted, were torn apart by the
“Red Terror” struggle with the Ultra-Left. In the countryside many
regions had seen guerrilla groups arise against what they still per-
220
ceived, in traditional Ethiopian fashion, as the “Imperial Centre”: the

EDU and TPLF in Tigray, the OLF in Oromo areas, the SALF in Bale
and the ALF among the Afar. None of these movements had the capac-
ity to overthrow the regime alone. But their multiplication was drain-
ing the resources of the army which had to fight simultaneously on five
or six fronts. To make things worse for the Derg, the Eritreans, who
felt their enemy weakening, had launched a major offensive which had
brought them control of nearly 80 per cent of the former Italian col-
ony. During the summer of 1977, when the Somali offensive added its
external weight to these multiple internal revolts, it looked as if the
military regime was nearing the brink of total collapse. The final blow
seemed to come when Mei’son, which had made the choice of “criti-
cally supporting” the Derg, decided that enough was enough and
joined the opposition. Colonel Mengistu declared a state of national
emergency and called for mass mobilization. Tens of thousands were
conscripted. But this by itself would not have been enough if the inter-
national diplomatic landscape had not been suddenly altered.
For some months the Derg had been negotiating with the Russians.
The Soviet Union had started to invest in the Horn of Africa in the
1960s, through help to the Somali Republic. Because of its irredentist
ideological basis—uniting all the Somali people under one flag—
Mogadishu had refused to sign the OAU Charter whose Article 4b
enshrined a clearly-set preservation of colonial borders. The Somali
Republic had started on its unification programme by fusing the for-
mer colonies of British Somaliland and Somalia Italiana. But it still
wanted Djibouti, the Kenyan Northern Frontier District and the
Ethiopian Ogaden. Up to the early 1970s, all these entities were part
of US-protected territories, which, in the Cold War logic, opened a
broad opportunity for Moscow’s diplomacy. But the 1974 Ethiopian
revolution had put all this into question and the Russians had started
secret negotiations with the military regime. The situation was para-
doxical since the Somali invasion had been prepared with the help of
Red Army military advisers and the Somali Army was 100 per cent
equipped with Russian weapons. But as the Derg was on the verge of
collapse, for Moscow the time had come for a quick decision. The
Derg’s demise would have opened the way either for a classical mili-
tary dictatorship which would probably have turned towards the US31
or else for a ultra-left civilian takeover, with militants who would have
been hostile to the USSR. In both cases Moscow would have lost out.

221
So it decided to switch alliances and in December 1977 engineered for

the benefit of the Derg the type of massive military air bridge which it
was to use again two years later for the benefit of Babrak Karmal in
Afghanistan. Besides their own military advisers and very large quan-
tities of military equipment, the Russians ferried South Yemeni troops32
and several thousand Cubans. These combined forces went on the
offensive at the end of January 1978 and within three months, owing
to their superior equipment and firepower, had retaken all the ground
lost to the Somali in the Ogaden. The US Secretary of State, Cyrus
Vance, had obtained from Brezhnev a promise that the Soviet-led
offensive would stop at Somalia’s border and that the communist
armies would not occupy the country, as they certainly could have
done if they had wanted. By March 1978 the war was over and the
Somali state, which had been entirely built on the ideology of national
unity, entered into a deep crisis which would eventually lead to its total
disappearance in 1991.
As soon as he was free from the Somali threat, Mengistu launched a
major offensive in Eritrea which pushed the EPLF back and regained
most of the ground the guerrillas had occupied during the last eighteen
months. But this did not really change the situation in the north
because the Derg was incapable of thinking up a coherent strategy
beyond its policy of absolute centralism. On 20 November 1978

Mengistu went to Moscow to sign a “Treaty of Friendship and

Cooperation” which put Ethiopia solidly in the Soviet orbit. For the
time being, the triumph of the “socialist” military regime was com-
plete. But the problem then was what to do with its victory.
The attempt at institutionalizing a communist regime (1979–1987)

The Soviets wanted to see Ethiopia turn itself into a standard “People’s
Republic” on the pattern of the eastern European countries. The Derg
did not disagree but it was traversed by deep contradictions between
its component parts and had to find a way of doing what Moscow
wanted. Since 1976 the regime had created a Committee for
Organizing the Party of the Workers of Ethiopia (COPWE) which was
supposed to prepare the birth of the great single Marxist-Leninist
party. But the contradictions had been going on for a long time and
had resulted in very little because COPWE needed both to take into
account the Ethiopian constraints and satisfy at the same time the ideo-
222
logues in Moscow who were getting all the more concerned as consid-
erations of orthodoxy showed that the reality of “communist” power
was slowly dissolving itself into a sea of bureaucratic confusion, polit-
ical contradictions and economic shortages. So it took eight long years
for COPWE to phase itself out and become the Workers Party of
Ethiopia (WPE).
The new party was enthroned on 12 September 1984 during a gigan-

tic popular show choreographed by the North Koreans. The date

picked had been chosen so as to coincide with the tenth anniversary of
the revolution and it cost between $120m and $150m, at a time when
the country had once more plunged headlong into one of its murder-
ous famines. The massive expenses undertaken at a time when the
country was again suffering—the bill for spirits and other alcoholic
drinks alone amounted to more than $2m—were seen both in Ethiopia
itself and abroad as an insult to the dying peasantry. But the Derg did
not care. In many ways, just as Haile Selassie’s coronation had been in
1930, it was first and foremost a solemn declaration of power—men-
gist. The new regime was trying to set itself up as a new dynasty. And
its policies soon headed for a completely independent, bizarre and con-
trary form of “Ethiopian socialism” that not even its Soviet godparents
approved of. The main traits had to do with population transfers and
villageization.
Since famine had been a major factor in the explosion of the revolu-
tion in 1974, its return ten years later under a “socialist” regime that
prided itself in its pro-peasant policies was a black spot for its self-
image. Worse, the regime could only alleviate the famine with Western
aid, particularly American.33 For Mengistu this was an unacceptable
situation. Ethiopia should not be dependent on foreign countries, par-
ticularly capitalist ones.
If we look at Ethiopia’s human geography, we immediately notice
that the “historical north” is much more populated than the lowlands
of the south and west. For the head of the Ethiopian state, the solution
was deceptively simple: let us transport the starving people from the
exhausted lands of Wollo and Tigray and resettle them around
Gambella or in Gamo Gofa. But this “solution” was not feasible for a
number of reasons: the transporting of people was carried out in
extremely brutal ways, killing more than 50,000 settlers; there was
nothing prepared at the destination sites to help the re-accommodation
of the incoming people; the northern peasants were suddenly trans-
223
ported from a malaria-free ecosystem to a different one in the lowlands

where malaria killed them in large numbers; and the local populations
at the new sites had no sympathy for these “humanitarian invaders”
who were seen as coming to take over their lands.34
The amount of money budgeted by the government to pay for the
transporting of the people being resettled was completely insufficient
and mortality was bound to be massive. The population transfer pro-
gramme finally ground to a halt in January 1986 after 591,000 had
been deported. Was this a “Khmer Rouge”-like annihilation campaign
as some human right militants pretended at the time?35 Not really. The
transported villages did not look like concentration camps even if peo-
ple were dying there. There was no barbed wires or watch towers.36 So
what lay behind this self-destructive form of “aid”? Largely it was two
converging forces. One was the traditional authoritarianism of
Abyssinian culture, where mengist (the state power) is all powerful and
quasi mystical. The second was the military nature of the operation.
The men who ran it were dim-witted and talking to them was appall-
ing. It was a simplified military logistics approach to a complex prob-
lem combining agriculture, climate, ecology, demographic growth and
an archaic peasant culture. The whole process could not even be ques-
tioned because it had the dual seal of approval of the Abyssinian state
and of its present “socialist progress” incarnation.
Then what about villageization, the other pillar of the Derg’s policy
of social engineering? The idea of villagization was another false good
idea. Ethiopian rural dwellings are dispersed. So regrouping them
would theoretically allow the government to provide more easily and
at a lower cost all the public services (running water, school, dispensa-
ries) that the rural habitat lacked. The problem, as the Tanzanians had
already experienced when they had tried the same thing some ten years
earlier, was that it was much easier to move people by force than to
provide them with the proper services later.37 Contrary to the popula-
tion transfers which implied moving people 1,000 or 1,500 km at a
time, villagization would take place within a restricted perimeter of
some 40 to 60 kilometres. But the numbers involved were much higher.
Mengistu wanted to “villageize” at least seven million people. Here the
movement was generally on foot, dismantling the houses or even car-
rying them whole on people’s shoulders. Once set in motion both pro-
cesses had acquired a “socialist” label, as if Karl Marx’s main social
aim had been to re-engineer the lives of African peasants. The policies
224
had become a basic tenet of hibretesebawinet and any rational argu-

mentation that ran counter to these would be attacked as an ideologi-
cal heresy.38 Still, bad as the process was, the “concentration camps”
image was not correct. But these “open” villages were nevertheless
traps for the peasants who had been obliged to join them, for the same
reasons as in Tanzania: they were too far from the outer ring of fields,
which led to the abandonment of some of the cultivated areas; some
markets had become too distant; crop theft became frequent; too many
small livestock around the villages themselves led to overgrazing on too
small an area, leading in turn to massive killing of animals and later to
a dearth of animal production, both milk and meat and a lot of time
was wasted in walking to the fields and back. Meanwhile the promised
“collective equipment” never materialized or when it did, it was of
cheap “communist” quality and did not work. The only benefits were
for the government which obtained two things: better fiscal returns and
a higher degree of security control making it harder for the guerrillas to
obtain support from the harassed peasantry.
In terms of agricultural policy, many of the errors committed in the
USSR in the 1930s were replicated in Ethiopia, particularly in terms of
collectivization. Between 1980 and 1985, the collective farms, which
represented only 5 per cent of cultivated areas, received 43 per cent of
the investment in the agricultural sector and their returns represented
less money than what had been invested in their development.39 There
again, ideology had replaced common sense.
Actually this obdurate approach can call into question the very
nature of the regime. Were Mengistu and his close associates really
“Communists”? Their civilian allies and/or opponents of the EPRP and
Mei’son had been. But the military? In his remarkable study on the
revolution,40 Gebru Tareke shows time and time again how the very
men in charge of carrying out these policies did not really understand
what they were doing and seem to believe in fallacies. Then why do it?
The answer might be at two levels. On the one hand these simple souls
were nationalists. They believed that “Marxism” (about which they
knew next to nothing) would provide them with a quasi-magic blue-
print for “development”. They trusted their Eastern European advis-
ers just as later generations would trust the World Bank and the
IMF. Thus the “revolutionary institutions”—the Constitution, the

835-member Shengo (legislature) frozen in its liturgical formalism, the

local kebeles (neighbourhoods) in towns, the Peasant Associations in
225
the countryside, the collective farms, the single party, the single “Trade
Union”, the controlled press which nobody read—were not really seen
as practical measures but rather as some kind of scriptural formulas
which would almost magically arrive at some wonderful results. The
deep imprint of extremely ritualized religion was obvious in the deeply
obedient approach to ideology displayed by the regime during those
years. What mattered was neither actual understanding nor pragmatic
efficiency but faith and a belief in miracles.
The fall of the regime (1988–1991)

For a while, after the famine, it looked like the regime had reached a
kind of cruising speed and might survive. But the structural problems
it faced were enormous:
• It was under attack from a whole number of guerrilla groups, one of
which, the TPLF, wanted to go all the way to Addis Ababa. The
Eritreans could have been sidetracked by offering them indepen-
dence, even though it would have meant a major policy reversal for
the Derg, and those operating in the peripheries did not have the mil-
itary capacity to go all the way and take over the centre of power,
but the TPLF could neither be resisted indefinitely nor be fobbed off.
• The Derg needed enormous amounts of weaponry which the Soviets
had provided so far. But from 1985 Gorbachev launched a new
course in Soviet policies, both at home and abroad. In 1989 the
Russians evacuated Afghanistan and they started to explain to
Mengistu that their help would have to end soon.
• The United States, which had long considered the main anti-Derg
fronts with a great deal of suspicion—they were after all avowedly
Marxist themselves—began to feel that military aid could replace the
humanitarian aid which had been provided during the famine. Using
the services of two of their allies in the region, Saddam Hussein in
Iraq and Jaafar al-Nimeiry in the Sudan, they started to transfer lim-
ited but not negligible quantities of military equipment to the EPLF,
under the unspoken understanding that some of it would be later
transferred to the TPLF.41
• Inside Ethiopia, the erratic Derg policies towards the peasantry had
alienated it permanently. Given the traditional attitude of deference
towards authority, many peasants still obeyed superficially but dis-
sented in practice, cheating on their taxes, not carrying out the
226
instructions of the regime and trying to hide their young men from
military conscription. Those youths who were forced to go anyway
did not want to fight. As soon as they arrived in Eritrea they would
desert in droves, to the point where the EPLF, which could not feed
them, would shove them over the border into the Sudan, from where
they would try to go back to their areas of origin on foot.
The 1988 defeat at Af Abet, which Gebru Tareke aptly called
“Ethiopia’s Dien Bien Phu”,42 was a tipping point. After Af Abet, the
TPLF turned into a conventional army that could get re-supplied while
its opponents could not. In May 1989 the Army tried to overthrow
Mengistu in a desperate and poorly organized coup. Mengistu, who
was in Pankow (East Germany) countered the coup masterfully43 and
several of the rebel superior officers, including the commander of the
air force, committed suicide. Some of the TPLF’s prisoners started to
join their captors in special units that were created to marshal them and
turn them against their erstwhile comrades. The regime, abandoned by
the collapsing Soviet Empire, was on its last legs. When Mengistu came
back from East Germany he half-heartedly started his own economic
and social mini-perestroika. But contrary to the Russian model, it was
not accompanied by any political liberalization. In early 1991 the
TPLF, now reinforced by whole units of POWs who had decided to
join the insurgency, went on the offensive and approached Addis
Ababa. In Eritrea the EPLF gained control of the whole province. On
21 May 1991, while his army was making a desperate last stand at

Dekemhare, Mengistu fled ignominiously, to take refuge in Zimbabwe.

He had exalted the memory of Emperor Tewodros and his last support-
ers had expected him to die in battle or by his own hand. But his inglo-
rious flight at least preserved the capital from a bloody fate.44
Conclusion
What have been the effects of the largest movement of revolutionary
social transformation to take place on the African continent since the
end of decolonization? At the material level, not much. Mengistu’s
“socialist utopia” did not leave anything behind. But there were many
intangible changes that make today’s Ethiopia a very different country
from the one that plunged into the revolution in 1974. The biggest and
still unresolved problem is that of landholding. The land nationaliza-
tion decree of February 1975 has been changed but in multiple ambig-
227
uous ways that stopped short of two things: going back to the pre-rev-
olutionary situation or privatizing land outright. The land problem in
today’s Ethiopia has become extraordinarily complex and is unlikely
to remain as it is. Where will it go is still hard to decide. But one thing
is sure: its transformation will be at the heart of the country’s evolu-
tion in the coming years. From the agrarian point of view—and
Ethiopia still is and will remain for many years a mostly agricultural
country—the revolution is not yet over.
Another momentous change brought about by the revolution is a
drastic change in the status of the Muslim population. Muslims in
today’s Ethiopia have become de jure and de facto full citizens. The
acquisition of full civic rights has been an essential transformation in a
country where they had been second class citizens since the sixteenth
century. This transformation has had a soothing effect on Ethiopian
religious relations where the growth of radical fundamentalism seen in
the rest of the Islamic world is perhaps less threatening. It does not
mean that the phenomenon does not exist, but it is muted and cultur-
ally blended. Today most Ethiopian Muslims are still Ethiopian first and
Muslim second. This might not last, but it has so far limited the devel-
opment of radical Islam in spite of the violence occurring in neighbour-
ing countries such as Somalia and Sudan. This stabilization of Ethiopian
Islam is one of the few undiluted achievements of the revolution.
Another benefit of the revolution is the fact that the people count.
Full-fledged democracy still remains a future target in Ethiopia. But
the heavy social weight of the aristocracy is gone and the opinion of
ordinary people has become a key element of the political game.
Although the Derg was probably more anti-democratic than the mon-
archy it had abolished, its discourse was democratic. The notion that
the ordinary people mattered was a new concept. That Haile Selassie
had certainly, in his own way, wanted the good of his people is unde-
niable. But the idea that the people themselves could discuss and con-
tribute to their own welfare was obviously completely foreign to his
political and philosophical world view. The Derg, which did not prac-
tice it, rhetorically enthroned the principle of democracy. It is obvious
that this principle has taken root and will not leave the scene. How it
will embody itself in the future is hard to say. But its very existence is
a product of the revolution.
The role of violence has also shifted. Up to 1974 violence was an
accepted part of society. It was supposed to be ritualized, channelled
228
and controlled, or else it erupted into shiftannet (armed dissidence).

Such a course obviously still exists, but it has lost a great part of its
legitimacy and cultural acceptance. The Derg’s orgy of violence has
had a kind of immunizing effect on the social body. Violence is not
anymore a simple acceptable fact as it had been for centuries.
And finally the revolution has opened Ethiopia to the world. Before
1974 the outside world was a bizarre and forbidding universe that had
to be mediated through the emperor himself, through a select group of
aristocrats and through a few intellectuals. The revolution has opened
the door to the outside winds. There is still a tendency in Ethiopian cul-
ture to try to filter and control these influences because, for many cen-
turies and with some reason, Abyssinia has seen the world as a threat.
But there is a kind of unspoken agreement on the fact that the outside
world is here and will stay here. It does not mean that “globalization”
is automatically welcome and fondly adopted. But Ethiopia has begun
to see itself as a part of the world and not only as its centre.
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London: Africa Watch.
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231
9
THE ERITREAN QUESTION1
Gérard Prunier
On 23 May 1993, following thirty years of war and two years of de

facto autonomy, the Ethiopian province of Eritrea officially became an

independent state. For the international community this outcome, which
put an end to over half a century of legal ambiguities and embarrassing
diplomatic contradictions, brought a general feeling of relief. There had
been no departing from respect for article 4b of the Organization of
African Unity Charter, given the fact that Eritrea had been a colony of
Italy while Ethiopia had retained its independence.2 Nevertheless, in
spite of a marked war-weariness on the part of the populations and of
the smooth official declarations, five years later war broke out again
between the former heartland and its former province.
What had happened? There is no single clear-cut answer to what is
probably one of the most vexing geopolitical problems on the African
continent. Eritrea and its “problem” are, like the Israelo-Palestinian
conflict or the “Irish question”, one of these atrociously complicated
historical conundrums where cultural divergences and past offences
combine to produce an unmanageable whole. Most of the time, pas-
233
sion—on both sides—overcomes any attempt at an objective examina-

tion of the problem. Obviously the next few pages will not allow us to
bring a satisfactory answer to such contradictions. But we hope never-
theless to provide the reader with a number of elements that will
enable him to consider the problem with a minimum of objectivity.
How the contradictions of the past extended into the present

Today, what is it that we call “Eritrea”? It is a territory of 124,000
km2 stretching between the 18th and the 13th degree of latitude north
and the 36th and 43rd of longitude west. This space is divided into three
broad natural regions. First, the central heartland or kebessa represents
about 45 per cent of the total. Located at a fairly high altitude
(between 2,000 and 3,000 metres) the kebessa region covers the three
central provinces of Akele Guzzay, Saray and Hamasien and extends a
bit to the north into the mountains of Senhit and Sahel. The geography
and climate make it a direct extension of the Ethiopian dega and
weyna dega territories.3 Then we have the hot lowlands of the west4
that go down by stages towards Sudan which they strongly resemble,
making a wide half-circle from the Sahel in the north to the Gash-Setit
region in the south. And finally we have Dankalia, representing about
10 per cent of the country’s surface, stretched out as a kind of long
probing finger along the Red Sea coast from the Sudan to the border
with Djibouti in the south. Flat and arid, this is one of the hottest
places on earth.
The population numbers something in the vicinity of six million,5
divided into nine distinct ethno-linguistic groups. Two of those—the
Tigrigna speakers (50 per cent) and the Tigre (30 per cent)—represent
by themselves over three quarters of the total. Religiously the divide
is about 50 per cent Christians6 and 50 per cent Muslims, the
Christians populating mostly the kebessa, with the Muslims living in
the lowlands.
The first question that must be answered about Eritrea is whether it
constitutes a long-standing entity historically different from Ethiopia
and now finally managing to regain a long-denied independence (this
is the view of the Eritrean nationalists) or is simply an Ethiopian prov-
ince torn from its Fatherland by illegitimate secessionists (this is the
antagonistic view of the Ethiopian nationalists). At the risk of being
unpopular, we have to say that both views are crudely simplified and
234
THE ERITREAN QUESTION
ultimately incorrect. On this let us quote a few words from the

American historian Tom Killion in the introduction to his Historical
Dictionary of Eritrea: “The projection in time of the term “Eritrea”
and the name “Eritreans” as used in this book about the pre-colonial
past should be seen as a convention for writing and does not imply in
any way the existence of such an identity before 1890.”7
This disclaimer is all the stronger as Tom Killion was known to be
a leading supporter of the Eritrean nationalist approach. But his intel-
lectual honesty obliged him to recognize that basic fact, although it is
still far from being universally accepted by his intellectual camp.8 On
the other side many contemporary Ethiopian nationalists still deny the
right of contemporary Eritrea to have a distinct national existence and
refuse to admit its population’s visceral commitment to an indepen-
dence that thirty years of constant struggle should have established
beyond the shadow of a doubt.
How then can we account for the existence of two such deeply con-
tradictory views of the Eritrean reality? First of all, both are based on
feelings rather than on any dispassionate attempts at analyzing the ele-
ments at our disposal. And then we have the problem of history and
the transformations that it brought to a fluid and changing environ-
ment which both sets of nationalisms want to view as a static a-tem-
poral entity.
If we go back to the first semi-centralized political structure in the
region, the Aksumite Empire, we can see that it was neither
“Ethiopian” nor “Eritrean” even if it embodied elements of both. The
Aksumite empire covered roughly the present Ethiopian province of
Tigray and the Eritrean highlands (kebessa). But neither the rest of
Ethiopia nor the Eritrean lowlands were under its control,9 even
though the extensive nature of its commercial network brought the
Empire to control the other shores of the Red Sea, in today’s Yemen.
The decline of Aksum during the fifth and sixth centuries was caused
by a series of foreign conquests (the Sassanid Persians in Arabia, the
nomadic Beja tribes of the Sudan to the west, the Arabs in Egypt)
which slowly contributed to isolation of an empire that lived essen-
tially from its control of regional commerce. From the seventh century
onwards, the Eritrean highlands became semi-autonomous, accepting
the intermittent dominion of the Abyssinian emperors as long as it did
not become too pressing, while in the lowlands the Hadareb and Beni
Amer nomads lived within the cultural sphere of today’s “Sudan”—
235
which of course did not exist then as a political entity since “the
Sudan” did not acquire its present form before the Turco-Egyptian
conquest of 1821.10 It was only during the reign of Emperor Amda
Syon (1314–44) that Abyssinia managed to extend its control over the
Tigrigna-speaking highlands of today’s “Eritrea”. This control was
ever more fluid as it descended along the slopes of the kebessa towards
the coastal lowlands,11 and the small Sultanate of the Dahlak Islands
(later occupied by the Turks) actually ruled over both the coastline and
the port of Massawa. As for the western Eritrean lowlands, they were
part of the “Sudanese” Sultanate of Sennar.12
The period of feudal anarchy known in Ethiopian history as zemene
mesafint (1769–1855) further eroded the already largely theoretical con-
trol of the Abyssinian monarchy over the kebessa and allowed for the
development of regional Tigrigna-speaking micro-dynasties sitting
astride present-day Eritrea and the Ethiopian province of Tigray.
Emperor Yohannes IV, himself a Tigrean, managed to reimpose a cer-
tain amount of Abyssinian control over the “Eritrean” highlands. But
he was soon faced by a new brand of enemies, the Turco-Egyptians.
Nominally a vassal of the Ottoman Empire, Egypt was at the time a
semi-modernized state that had managed to hire a large number of
European and American expatriate technicians and military officers. It
was bent on conquest, half on the pattern of the traditional Ottoman
plunder and half because colonies had become, over the last half cen-
tury, a kind of “badge of cultural superiority”, separating the “civilized
people” from the “savages”; the modernizing regime in Cairo definitely
wanted to be seen as belonging to the first category. As a result the years
1865–85 were particularly critical for Abyssinian independence since the
Egyptians first occupied the whole Red Sea coastline, then crept from
there up to the eastern highlands and slowly infiltrated the western low-
lands from their Sudanese rear base occupied since 1821. By 1870 they
launched an attempt at conquering the whole of Abyssinia.
In those pre-Berlin Conference days, the Western powers looked with
approval on this expansion of a state which, although Muslim, was
seen as “civilized”, deferring to Europe and flattering it in its desire to
emulate it. As a result Eritrea could easily have become an Egyptian col-
ony if the Sudanese heart of Cairo’s empire had not suddenly exploded
under the blows of the Mahdist uprising in 1881. During the next four
years Mohamed Ahmed “al-Mahdi” conquered the Northern Sudan by
kicking out the Turco-Egyptian occupiers, in spite of the support given
236
to them by London. This was the unexpected event that was suddenly
going to quicken the pace of the European colonization of Africa.13
Britain, deeply worried both about the danger of Mahdist “contamina-
tion” in East Africa (the rhetoric sounds like a forerunner of the twenty-
first century discourse about al-Qaida) and about the spread of French
influence from its base in the Red Sea colony of Obock,14 found an orig-
inal defence, the use of the nascent Italian imperialism. Recently unified,
Italy was the weakest of the “Great Powers” and dreamed of acquiring
colonies, both to export its excess demographic growth and to be
admitted into the ranks of the “serious” European nations which were
then just beginning to start their notorious “Scramble for Africa”.
London then decided to support Italian colonial ambitions in the Horn
of Africa,15 on the understanding that Rome would block the French
expansion on the Red Sea coast and contain the Mahdist expansion
coming from the Sudan. London recognized the Italian occupation of
Massawa and Italy took advantage of the death of Emperor Yohannes
IV16 to launch an attempt at occupying the Ethiopian highlands with the
support of the British.17 On 1 January 1890 King Umberto proclaimed

the existence of la colonia primogenita, “the first-born colony”, the first

projection abroad of Italian power since the disappearance of the
Venetian empire in the seventeenth century. From that moment on, it
was Italy that started to define the outline of what was to later become
an “Eritrean” identity.
From external control to the growth of an autonomous identity

The beginnings of the Italian colonial occupation were thought of in
Rome as a period of transition which, at least in the mind of the Prime
Minister Francesco Crispi, would only be a transitional stage before an
outright conquest of the whole of Abyssinia. Crispi had a very simpli-
fied vision of colonization, directly driven by the demographic prob-
lems of Italy at the end of the nineteenth century and the underdevel-
opment of its agriculture. For the Prime Minister who could declare in
a speech given in Palermo in 1889, “Ethiopia is opening to us. Large
areas which are ripe for colonization will soon become available as
receptacles of Italian fecundity,” Ethiopia was simply a future colony
of settlement, ready to absorb the overflow of the poor rural popula-
tion of the Mezzogiorno. In May 1889 Crispi had signed with Menelik
the Treaty of Wichale which was supposed to define the Italian zone
237
of occupation in the north of Abyssinia. Not only did Rome not

respect the borders defined by the Treaty, it had two different versions
of the Treaty drawn up, the Italian version differing widely from the
Amharic one and placing Ethiopia implicitly under an Italian
Protectorate! Meanwhile, both to satisfy British demands and to
broaden the space available for colonization, the Italian forces were
pushing the colony’s limits in all directions, towards the south-east up
to the limits of the French colony in Obock, westwards until the
Mahdist resistance stopped their expansion into the Sudanese lowlands
and southwards as long as the rest of Abyssinia did not come to the aid
of the assaulted Tigray province.
Thus one can see that the territorial shape and the present borders
of Eritrea are not the direct outcome of an internal evolution but the
simple product of Italian military operations. Crispi sent to Eritrea a
land administrator, Leopoldo Franchetti, whom he put in charge of
“opening” the land to Italian colonial occupation. Franchetti’s brutal
and clumsy policy of land expropriation resulted in the 1894 revolt led
by Bahta Hagos. The revolt was crushed fairly easily and the Italians
drew from it two false conclusions: the military ease of the repression
led them to underestimate the capacity of the Ethiopians to fight
back;18 and they felt that, rather than trying to seize too much land in
Eritrea proper, it would be better and more “balanced” in terms of
future land alienation to conquer the whole of Ethiopia. This led to the
1896 war during which Italy tried to take over the whole of Abyssinia,
only to be defeated and beaten back at the battle of Adwa (March
1896). The event had a massive impact, as, even more than Gordon’s
defeat at Khartoum eleven years earlier, it was a clear example of a
European military force defeated by “savages”. This led to a real
change in Italian colonial policy vis-à-vis Eritrea, with the arrival of a
“modern” Governor, Ferdinando Martini. During the ten years of his
term of office (1897–1907) Martini completely transformed the col-
ony. He reconciled his administration with Menelik, gave up his pre-
decessors’ policy of land seizure19 and resolutely set about laying the
foundations for a small modern industrial base.
The next twenty-five years saw a steady development in that same
direction, creating a kind of “golden age” of Italian colonialism in
Eritrea. Such a view has to be expressed with care. Recent political
analysis has tended to consider “colonialism” as an unmitigated evil;
the reality is much more complicated. The real unmitigated evil was
238
often essentially cultural and psychological. Oppression, even if it is

benign and economically beneficial, has in the long run a destructive
cultural effect. Hence the large differences between some of the worst
colonial situations (South Africa, the Belgian Congo) and considerably
milder ones (Uganda, Senegal, Sudan). But Eritrea, once purged of its
colonial fanatics after 1896, was definitely on the mild side, a defi-
nitely better place than (to stay within the Italian framework of refer-
ence) either Libya or Somalia. The Eritreans eventually drifted into a
“co-colonial” position like a number of other people in Africa (the
Baganda in Uganda, the Tutsis in Rwanda and Burundi). Eritreans
became agricultural workers,20 mechanics, clerks, soldiers in the colo-
nial army, slowly moving into a form of modernity that was largely
unknown at the time in Ethiopia. Their social and ethnic distinctions,
while remaining very strong, tended to be lessened, mollified, made
more amenable to trans-group social intercourse. In other words a
proto-identity, a global “us” as well as a global “them”, began to
develop. And to develop not only in reaction to colonization, but also
through colonization as well. This did not mean that the Eritreans
loved the Italians or considered them with total awe and respect. But
neither did they hate them globally, as was at times the case in both
Libya and some parts of Somalia.21 And—perhaps more important—
they had been changed by them in many subtle ways that were not
obvious to their southern relatives.
In many ways Fascism’s second wave brought about a strange new
effort at reshaping identities. In 1932, when Mussolini began to seri-
ously consider preparing the conquest of Ethiopia, he massively devel-
oped the European presence in the colony. There were only 4,188
Italians in Eritrea in 1931, but by May 1936 their numbers had swelled
to 350,000! The army was a main component of that population, hav-
ing gone from 7,500 men in 1928 to 60,000 on the eve of the invasion.
The conquest of Ethiopia (1935–36) was followed immediately after-
wards by a wave of industrial and commercial investments which were
supposed to benefit the whole of Africa Orientale Italiana (AOI) but
which were in fact largely concentrated in the old colonial heartland of
Eritrea.22 The settler population brought by Mussolini dispersed a bit
but tended nevertheless to remain in Eritrea. By the time AOI was
incorporated, 15 per cent of the Eritrean population was Italian and
there were more Italians (53,000) than natives (45,000) in the capital
Asmara. This was a unique situation on the continent where even in
239
heavily “white” colonies such as the Rhodesias and Kenya such ratios
were never reached. Only in Algeria did the European proportion grow
to comparable numbers. This phenomenon contributed to a further
transformation of Eritrean culture if we look at it in comparison with
neighbouring Ethiopia.
But AOI was suddenly erased from the map in late 1941, when the
British army and its allies totally demolished the Italian forces. There
was no common policy towards the ex-Italian colonies, given that in
late 1943 Italy switched from being a fighting member of the Axis to
a complex situation of “co-belligerence” within the Allied camp. Thus
Libya was considered as a kind of res nullius which the Americans and
British dealt with in a purely military fashion; Somalia was occupied
by the British who for several years toyed with the idea of a pan-
Somali construction, and Eritrea was also occupied by the British but
in a completely different spirit. Knowing that it would probably not
stay durably in Eritrea (and never really seriously trying to do so)
Britain launched a kind of social and political experiment in the coun-
try which, even if it was motivated by an open and liberal intent
towards the native population, was to have potentially dire conse-
quences. This period of British administration (1941–52) was short
and is today largely forgotten. But it played an essential role in the
transformation of Eritrean identity, driving it even further away from
its Ethiopian references.
The reason was that Britain introduced in the territory a series of
measures that were quite exceptional for an African colony in the
1940s. It started by the recruitment in the British administration of a
number of Eritreans who had served under the Italians, offering them
a fair level of promotion. Education was transformed and brought in
many more children than during the Italian period. English began to
be taught and was eagerly embraced by the educated segment of the
population. The teaching of Tigrigna and Arabic spread as well23 and
newspapers in these languages started publication. Trade union orga-
nization began and grew rapidly among urban workers and civil ser-
vants. By 1947 the administration authorized the creation of political
parties. Eight or ten immediately appeared and started to agitate for
the support of segments of the population as there was now talk of the
rapid election of a territorial assembly.
In fact this rapid pace of political development was somewhat arti-
ficial because London had no clear idea of what it wanted to do or
240
could do. There were several schools of thought. The straight annexa-
tion option, which aimed at taking over the whole of AOI, did not
appear very feasible as both Washington and the UN consensus were
hostile to it. Another “solution” was to work for a separation of
Tigray from Ethiopia and joining it with the kebessa part of Eritrea to
create an independent (but British influenced) “Greater Tigray” while
the western lowlands would be attached to the Sudan.
But since Emperor Haile Selassie was radically opposed to any sep-
aration of Tigray from Ethiopia, a third plan was hatched in 1949,
called the “Bevin-Sforza” plan from the names of its British and Italian
sponsors, aiming at dealing with the whole of AOI.24 Eritrea would be
divided, its western lowlands would go to Sudan while the kebessa and
Dankalia would be united, in one way or another, with Ethiopia. The
UN General Assembly adopted the Bevin-Sforza plan by 37 votes
against 11, but the plan was nevertheless abandoned because of anti-
Italian riots in Libya. This unexpected factor brought the whole fate of
Eritrea back to square one, causing Eritrean public opinion, whose
awareness was growing by leaps and bounds given the political prog-
ress of the territory, to really start to fret.
The collapse of the Bevin-Sforza plan accelerated the creation of the
first overtly pro-independence movement, the Independence Bloc.25
This in turn worried the Emperor who stepped up his support for the
pro-Ethiopian Unionist Party. The Ethiopian secret service started by
trying to vilify the campaigners for independence as tools of the
Italians (because of the limited pro-Italian membership in the Indepen
dence Bloc) and, when this proved not to be enough, launched a cam-
paign of targeted murders against the Bloc leaders.26
The climate became such that it led to serious rioting in February
1950 in Asmara. The UN Commission of Inquiry floundered in total
confusion, its five members eventually coming up with three separate
reports contradicting each other, one advising reunion with Ethiopia,
another arguing in favour of a federation and the third recommending
a ten-year UN Trusteeship followed by independence. The result was
to bring everything back to the drawing board, and in December 1950
the UN General Assembly voted Resolution 390 A (V), in favour of a
Federation between Ethiopia and Eritrea. But there were to be another
twenty months between that decision and its implementation, and the
British Military Administration had time to organize a legislative elec-
tion before the full proclamation of Federation.
241
These elections (the last free ones Eritrea was ever to know, up to
this day!) are quite interesting since they give a kind of instant snap-
shot of the political landscape at the time. Out of the assembly’s 68
members, 32 belonged to the Unionist Party (UP) which advocated
total union with Ethiopia, 18 had been elected under the banner of the
Eritrean Democratic Front (EDF),27 15 were members of the Muslim
League (ML) which was still considering possible partition with Sudan
but leaning more towards full-fledged independence, and three were
traditional tribal leaders. We can thus see that the members were
divided almost evenly between supporters of union with Ethiopia and
supporters of independence. But the members did not just happen to
hold these views. All of the UP parliamentarians were Christian
Tigrigna speakers while all of the EDF or ML elected representatives
were Muslim lowlanders.28
This created a dangerous ethno-political identity split, meaning that
a lot would depend on how the Federation experience would be lived.
Eritrean identity, imprecise as it might be, was by then a completely
unavoidable fact. But it was imprecise in its forms of expression and,
although it is not politically correct to say so today, some of the later
supporters of independence started their political careers as UP union-
ist members. Most Eritreans could have adapted to some form of fed-
eration if the Emperor had understood that his new subjects had to be
dealt with in quite a specific way, so as to accommodate their particu-
larities: that is, what their complex older history and their more recent
colonial past had made them into. But the problem was that it was
exactly that understanding of the specificity of Eritrean feelings that
the Emperor and his closest advisers29 did not have.
The Federation was eventually officially proclaimed on 15 September
1952, and it was to lead to disaster. Barely a year later, a British civil
servant who was in charge of overseeing its application was already
complaining in a letter to the Foreign Office that Tedla Bairu30
has reduced the ministers to the rank of mere employees who are forbidden
to take any decision, never calls a cabinet meeting, has closed down the only
independent newspaper that was still published, blocks the transmission of
any financial audit to the Parliament, stops the opposition MPs who have
been elected in partial elections to sit in Parliament and keeps postponing
any discussion of the problem of customs31 (…) It seems that his way of con-
ducting business is such that total union with Ethiopia is bound to happen
within a short time.32
242
The Emperor was not even trying to hide his game, declaring in a
public speech in September 1954, for the second anniversary of the
proclamation of the Federation, “The day when the population of the
Mareb Melash33 (…) would opt for a complete union with Ethiopia
rather than a simple federal link, would be for me a day of great
happiness”.
But in the meantime a deliberate form of sabotage blocking the func-
tioning of the Eritrean government was hardly the best way to endear
himself to the Eritrean public, and he was beginning to cause irritation
and lose support among even the pro-Ethiopia Christian highlanders.
As we already briefly hinted earlier, the problem of such a policy,
which was driven by instinct and prejudice rather than by analysis, was
Haile Selassie’s temporal disconnect. The Emperor saw himself as the
Saviour of Ethiopia, the legitimate and necessary master of an unruly
and dangerous body politic. Whether fissiparous tendencies came from
rebellious feudal lords or democratically-minded young politicians
made very little difference for him. Power, mengist, that old Abyssinian
obsession, had to be absolute and had to be in imperial hands.34 For
him any form of power “check and balance”, even a democratic one,
could only be seen as equivalent to the feudal obstructions the
Ethiopian throne had been fighting to contain and eliminate for the
past hundred years. An Eritrea moving along the path of democratiza-
tion and social transformation could only be seen by the Emperor as a
kind of foreign body which should be brought back down to the gen-
eral level of the rest of the Empire. How could he accept the idea of
democratic legitimacy in Eritrea when he was doing everything he
could to fight against it in Ethiopia proper?35
In spite of its limitations and backwardness, the Eritrean body poli-
tic was definitely more advanced that the Ethiopian one along the road
towards both social modernity and some form of democratic political
expression. Federation with Ethiopia had been a form of cultural
revenge against colonialism, but it had failed to deliver the hoped for
path to social transformation that it had been expected to bring. From
now on, it was through the organization of a revolutionary movement
aiming at independence that this newly discovered modernity would
try to assert itself.
243
The years of struggle

Federation survived till 1962 in a climate marked by the steadily grow-
ing manipulations by the Addis Ababa authorities. The elections
between 1956 and 1960 were tainted by the constant intimidation of
non-Unionist candidates and eventually led to a parliament mostly
controlled by Ethiopia. But even then, when the legislative assembly
was controlled from Addis Ababa, that assembly repeatedly refused to
willingly abrogate the Act of Federation, which was eventually
declared to be abolished on 14 November 1962 by the Emperor’s

representative.
The writing had been on the wall for some time and small groups of
anti-unionists had created the first “revolutionary” movement, the
Eritrean Liberation Movement (ELM), from exile in Sudan as early as
1958. This first nationalist organization combined in a strange way a
rather moderate programme (return to an effective federation) with
conspiratorial and semi-terrorist tactics; its militant network was dis-
mantled after the 1963 demonstrations against the abolition of the
Federation, and this gave rise to another movement, the Eritrean
Liberation Front (ELF), better organized but almost entirely made up
of western Muslim Lowlanders.36 Born in Cairo in 1960, the ELF is the
grandmother of all further Eritrean political movements, still fondly
referred to “al-Jebha” (the Front) or even “Ummi” (our mother) even
by those who have been long divorced from it. It was to be the matrix
from which all the armed Eritrean political movements came, many of
them to later disappear in the turmoil of fratricidal conflicts.37
The first military operations of the Eritrean guerrilla campaign
started on a very limited scale. On 1 September 1961 Hamid Idris

Awate, a former askari of the Italian Army and an ELM sympathizer,

was the first man to lead an armed attack on the Ethiopian forces. His
little group could not really be called a guerrilla force, with all the later
connotations of a clearly defined political armed struggle; it was more
of a band of shifta (political bandits) like those who used to harass the
British troops in the post-war years. At the beginning the military oper-
ations remained very limited and all took place in the western lowlands
whence most of the fighters came.38
After 1966, a number of young Christians slowly began to join the
rebellion. But tribal and religious allegiances had remained very strong
and many of the young Christian recruits were killed by the very peo-
244
ple they had come to join.39 These murders caused tensions inside the
ELF where young educated men created the Islah (reform) movement
in 1968. Many of these young men started to debate among them-
selves, criticizing the policies of the external leadership. But the exter-
nal council was relying for support on the extreme religious and ethnic
feelings of the zone 1 and 2 commanders who were asked to crush the
reformist challenge. The internal massacres restarted, leading many
young reformists, who were mostly Muslims but had Christian com-
rades with them, to split from the ELF mainstream, creating the ELF/
PLF (Popular Liberation Forces).
It was the ELF/PLF that was later to give birth to the EPLF, the orga-
nization that eventually succeeded in winning the war. But at the time
they were far from it. The haemorrhage of fighters drove the ELF into
an attempt at reforming itself during its First Congress in 1971. The
struggle was out in the open between the supporters of a non-sectarian
nationalist line and those who could not shed the “Arab” and
“Muslim” line. The contradictions became such that in February 1972
the ELF militarily attacked its younger challenger. This fratricidal war
lasted for two and a half years, until September 1974, when pressure
from the base forced the two leadership groups to talk. The situation
was evolving quite fast with the explosion of the revolution in Ethiopia
proper and the constant arrival of new Christian recruits who were
pushing for reconciliation and unity.
Faced with this mounting emergency the ELF/PLF leadership decided
on a clean organizational break and created a new front, the EPLF. The
new organization was immediately faced with a major political and mil-
itary choice. Owing to the revolution the Ethiopian army was disinte-
grating and losing any form of discipline and restraint, committing mas-
sive massacres and other human rights violations. The EPLF offered its
wayward “mother” an alliance and both organizations went on the
offensive in conventional war style. Within months they had occupied
almost the whole of the territory and besieged Asmara. Among the two,
the EPLF had won the more spectacular successes and this had allowed
the younger organization to draw a steady stream of new recruits, both
Christian and Muslim, highlanders and lowlanders.
But the scene of the conflict had widely broadened with the attack
by Somalia on Ethiopia. Since 1969, Siad Barre’s Somalia had been the
regional ally of the Soviet Union, pampered by Moscow as a counter-
weight to Haile Selassie’s pro-American Ethiopia. But now, with the
245
onset of a full-fledged revolution openly claiming to be Marxist-

Leninist (even if its various components were fighting each other over
what was meant by that label), Moscow had to choose.40 This war
between an old protégé and an aspiring new one was unfortunate for
the Russians. But broad considerations ranging from cultural affinity
to strategic importance and from military weight to tactical opportu-
nity led Moscow to switch sides right in the middle of the battle for the
Ogaden. Soviet military aid immediately started pouring into Ethiopia
and Communist allies (Cubans, South Yemenis) quickly followed. The
Somali army fell back in disarray and the Communist reinforcements
were quickly turned around so that they could be brought to bear in
Eritrea as well.
Between July and December 1978, the Derg launched a series of vio-
lent and coordinated attacks that forced the Eritrean fronts to with-
draw and abandon their newly occupied areas.41 The EPLF managed
an orderly retreat towards the Sahel but the ELF retreated in confusion
towards Sudan and over 10,000 of its fighters disbanded themselves.
That Front practically ceased to exist on the ground inside Eritrea. But
its leadership went on monopolizing the aid distributed by Arab coun-
tries and kept speaking abroad in the name of “the Eritrean resis-
tance”. With his back to the wall, Ahmed Nasser, the ELF president,
agreed to talk with Derg representatives in conversations sponsored by
the Russians. But what he was offered was akin to surrender and he
dared not sign. The negotiations broke down and the ELF was so
weakened that it gave the order to its last remaining troops to aban-
don the frontline and withdraw to Sudan.42 The EPLF condemned this
as “treasonable” and attacked its former ally.
By late 1980 the ELF had been completely defeated and its last fight-
ers had withdrawn to Sudan or had abandoned their former organiza-
tion and joined the EPLF. The ELF then sank into internecine fighting,

the leaders blaming each other for the defeat and finally murdering
each other in Sudan. When its old leader Osman Saleh Sabeh died of
natural causes in 1987, his death marked the final demise of the old
Front. A new Islamist current began to appear in the ruins of the Front
and in 1988 the first Islamic fundamentalist Eritrean organization,
Jihad Eritrea, began to operate. But its limited recruitment never
amounted to more than a shadow of what the old ELF had once been.
For the EPLF, the years of defensive entrenchment in the Sahel turned
into the heroic years of the guerrilla campaign, still celebrated today in
246
the national Eritrean mythology as a kind of golden age. The Front

cleverly developed its technical and medical capacities, it started mak-
ing and servicing a lot of the equipment it was using, produced clothes,
taught children and generally tended to develop a kind of Utopian and
Spartan counter-society that both embodied its socialist ideals and gave
it a tremendous practical capacity.43 Its ideology, a mixture of populism
and revolutionary Marxism, demanded complete obedience from its
cadres and it was enforced with a near fanatical ideological zeal and a
cold-blooded brutality in case of disobedience. In 1987 the Front orga-
nized its Second Congress, resulting both in a tightening of discipline
and in a spectacular personal success for Issayas Afeworqi who was
elected to the position of Secretary General. Major historical figures of
the nationalist movement such as Wolde Ab Wolde Maryam and
Ibrahim Totil joined the rejuvenated organization.
As the Americans felt that the Gorbachev-led USSR was vacillating
in its resolve to support the Derg, they used a leading ally in the region,
Saddam Hussein, to step up their military aid to the EPLF.44 This
allowed the EPLF to launch a major offensive in March 1988 during
which the Front managed to occupy the key garrison town of Af Abet,
which the demoralized Ethiopian Army did not defend very energeti-
cally. In Af Abet the Front captured a large quantity of heavy military
hardware (artillery, tanks, vast quantities of fuel and ammunition)
which enabled it to turn itself into a conventional army almost over-
night. American and Iraqi help increased and the Front decided to
renew its military cooperation with the Tigrean Peoples Liberation
Front (TPLF) with which it had been in conflict since 1985.45 Since the
TPLF was better placed geographically to finish off the Derg, the EPLF
supplied it with a large part of the equipment captured at Af Abet.
After its victory at the battle of Shire in February 1989, the TPLF took
control of the whole of Tigray Province, but its southward progress
was difficult as the Tigrean Front met considerable ethnic resistance in
the Amhara-populated regions. In February 1990 the EPLF captured
Massawa after a major battle during which it lost 3,000 men and the
Derg army twice that number. Losing Massawa meant that the
Ethiopian forces could not be resupplied by sea at a time when the
TPLF successes had cut off the land routes. By then it was obvious that
the Derg had lost the war. But its army clung fiercely to the ground in
a typically Ethiopian display of desperate courage. Thousands fell on
both sides in the terrain between Asmara and the coast before the
247
insurgent forces finally captured the Eritrean capital in May 1991.

Practically at the same moment the TPLF, which had finally managed
to reach Shoa Province at the beginning of the year, entered Addis
Ababa practically without fighting, thus sparing the capital the major
destruction a final defence would have caused.46 This twin victory put
an end to both thirty years of civil war and seventeen years of a “rev-
olutionary” regime which had sunk into a brutal military dictatorship
without any real perspective beyond its own survival.
The Eritrean question within the context of independence

The accession to power in Addis Ababa of a new regime politically
allied to the EPLF allowed the Eritrean Front to organize the indepen-
dence of its territory in close agreement with the new Ethiopian gov-
ernment. In May 1993, in an internationally-supervised referendum,
99 per cent voted for independence.47 Ethio-Eritrean relations were at
first as good as they could possibly be after such a long conflict. But
while the twin victory had been an excellent short-term opportunity,
there was not enough time afterwards to face numerous problems that
remained between the old Abyssinian core and its secessionist off-
spring. The difficulties were supposedly economic but they had deeper
and more intricate causes as well.
As we saw in the first section of this chapter dealing with the colo-
nial period, Eritrea had been designed by its Italian godfather as an
industrial nucleus which should have been the core of a wider, agricul-
tural development area. Neither the British Military Administration
period, nor the Federation, nor the unilateral union had altered that
basic framework. As a result the small Eritrean economy found itself
painfully dependent on an Ethiopian hinterland which had always
been seen as a “natural outlet” for northern industrial production. But
after 1993 the limited but real economic development of Ethiopia in
general and of Tigray in particular started to interfere with that “pre-
ordained” pattern. If we summarize the arguments of the two sides,
which quickly veered into polemics, the Eritreans complained that the
new Ethiopian manufacturing capacities were undermining their
exports48 while the Ethiopians accused their erstwhile ally of exploit-
ing their underdevelopment. In addition Asmara insisted on the cre-
ation of a separate currency (both had kept the birr as common cur-
rency after 1991) in the mistaken belief, grounded in the Eritrean
248
feeling of superiority, that this new currency would be stronger than

the birr.49 Addis Ababa eventually accepted this but the new Eritrean
currency, the nakfa, predictably started to slip and within months of
its creation was worth twenty times less than the birr. Asmara saw this
withering of its treasured new symbolic currency as an Ethiopian plot.
But behind these accusations there was a whole past which had not
always been one of brotherly cooperation, even during those days
when both Fronts had fought against the Derg. At the time when
Marxism was their common ideology they had had strong divergences
concerning their choice socialist countries of reference; the TPLF had
been pro-Chinese and later pro-Albanian while the EPLF had struck a
more independent path towards a kind of “national communism”. The
EPLF also had a long tradition, due to its important Muslim compo-
nent, of cooperating with “Arab socialist” regimes. These diverging
views had had severe military consequences, with the two Fronts
breaking up their alliance and even fighting each other sporadically
between 1985 and 1988. Then, after the split, their views on the
nationality question had been completely opposite, Eritrea opting for
a heavily centralized approach while the Ethiopian regime had chosen
a more federal path. It was these differences that between 1993 and
1997 gave the frequent discussions about the economic difficulties a
rough and tense background. These contradictions were real and sim-
ple goodwill would not have been enough to dispel them. But they did
not amount to such a heavy load that they would irremediably lead to
a resumption of the conflict.
In many ways, it was a basic political and cultural disconnect which
eventually caused a return to war. And this disconnect reached a long
way back. The Eritreans had been the “soldiers of Empire” in the
Italian colonial context50 and they had also been its skilled workers.
They were secretly proud of that heritage, which the Ethiopians,
Tigreans included, considered offensive. The Tigreans “had supplied
much of Eritrea’s casual labour to the point where “Agame” [Tigreans]
acquired a pejorative connotation among highland Eritreans. Agame
and other Tigreans also made up the makalay aylet class of landless
rural labourers and tenant farmers.”51 These old forms of prejudice
and discrimination resurfaced during the war and coloured the rela-
tionship between the Eritrean EPLF and the Tigrean TPLF. It gave rise

to what we could call a “big brother/little brother” relationship. When

the TPLF started fighting the Derg, the Eritrean guerrillas had already
249
been in the field for fourteen years. Their experience and their numbers
bore no relationship to those of the small band of woyane fighters who
had taken to the bush in 1975. Issayas Afeworqi considered himself to
be the inheritor of a whole Eritrean tradition of Eritrean superiority
which he carried over into his relationship with the TPLF. The tanks

used by the Tigreans to take Addis Ababa had been captured by the
EPLF at Af Abet three years before and given to the TPLF as a sover-
eign gift.
In many ways Issayas was constitutionally incapable of working
with the TPLF on an equal basis and still looked down on his “maka-
lay aylet” cousins as a subordinate kind. It was hard for him to realize
that once the TPLF was in control of Ethiopia, its priorities would
become national rather than parochial. But could this “neo-imperial-
ist” view be counterbalanced by other trends within the EPLF?
Unfortunately not. The new government was a victim of the “guerril-
las in power” syndrome, wellknown in a whole bevy of other African
countries (Angola, Mozambique, Guinea Bissau, Uganda, Rwanda,
Burundi, Southern Sudan, South Africa). In all these cases the leading
organizations (and their founding fathers) developed a political
monopoly which tended to veer into strong authoritarianism. This was
the Eritrean path after 1993. By the time of independence, Issayas
Afeworqi had become the absolute master of Eritrea.
This entrenchment of authoritarianism was the one cause that fed-
erated all those mentioned above, eventually leading to a renewal of
the conflict with Ethiopia. The exaggerated centralism of the Eritrean
regime precluded any check and balances which might have stopped
the clumsy slippage into a useless conflict based on archaic prejudices
and unreasonable political analysis. The conflict that started in May
1998 was both outdated and pointless since none of the two adversar-
ies had any “war aims” beyond claims to small border territories that
were strategically and economically without value. The real causes of
the war were the ones we have outlined, but their deeply buried cul-
tural and historical nature was too tenuous to be structured into war
planning. The outside world did not understand the causes of the con-
flict and resorted to the quip of calling it “two bald men fighting over
a comb”.52 The expression was picturesque, even though it simply
reflected a bewilderment that precluded any possibility of mediation.53
The result was two years of atrocious slaughter (between 50,000 and
80,000 combined casualties) and an overall military expenditure of
250
over $4.5bn which neither side could afford.54 After two years of a
bloody stalemate during which the two armies confronted each other
in World War I style with long meandering lines of trenches, the
Ethiopian forces rediscovered the virtue of movement and outflanked
their enemy in the west (May 2000). The war was over militarily
within a few weeks but dragged on diplomatically until December
when a cease-fire was finally signed. The diplomatic game was as
obscure and confused as the war itself had been and resulted in a state
of no-peace, no-war which is still lingering at the time of writing. But
this opaque conflict was to have major consequences on the internal
fate of Eritrea itself.
The global political structure of the PFDJ55 was shaken by the whole
chain of events and the iron dominance of Issayas Afeworqi was sud-
denly thrown into question. Critics initiated a move towards the cre-
ation of a constitution and the process soon came under the steward-
ship of Eritrea’s leading intellectual figure, Bereket Habte Selassie. The
post-war Eritrean political establishment suddenly came alive, launch-
ing a whole movement of internal reform. On 5 May 2001 an “Open

Letter to All the Members of the PFDJ” was signed by fifteen leading
members of the party, ending with those words: “How can the present
crisis be resolved? When the President is ready to be governed by the
constitution and the law and when the legislative and executive
branches perform their legal functions properly.”. This was of course
anathema to Issayas Afeworqi who regrouped his supporters and
started to arrest his opponents. June to August 2001 was a period of
great tension and great hopes. But Issayas cleverly used the September
11th 2001 al-Qaida attack on the Twin Towers to make his move.
Realizing that the world’s attention was completely polarized by what
had happened in New York and that his hands were suddenly free, he
struck on 18 September, still known today by the Eritrean opposition

as “Black Tuesday”. He arrested all the signatories of the 5 May letter

that were in the country, a bevy of democratically-minded PFDJ cad-

res, hundreds of civilian dissenters, true or imaginary, and all the inde-
pendent journalists, closing down all their newspapers in one fell
swoop.56 What had been up to then an authoritarian regime became
overnight one of the tightest dictatorships on the planet.
Paradoxically, even though the President’s personal stature was
shaken, his enormous personal prestige kept many of the rank-and-file
Eritreans loyal to his person. But the few PFDJ leaders who sided with
251
him (Yemane Gebre Ab, al-Amin Mohamed Said, Abdallah Jaber) lost
their personal credibility, particularly since they were not among the
heroes of the independence struggle. The constitutional project was
buried and the system tightened to an incredible degree. No indepen-
dent organization was allowed and in May 2002 thirty-six independent
churches—mostly Pentecostal Christians and the Jehovah’s Witnesses—
were banned and many of their members arrested.57 2,000 are esti-
mated to still be in detention today. Military service expanded to an
enormous degree, with all young people of both sexes being drafted
between the ages of 18 and 40 and a military reserve created for all the
men between 40 and 50. Since the conscripts could be used in discre-
tionary fashion for civilian work, including productive work on the
private property of party cadres and officers, and since their pay was
barely symbolic, this measure turned the whole population of Eritrea
into potential slave workers.58 Young people began fleeing in the hun-
dreds and, as the years went on, in the thousands. Many were shot
dead while fleeing. Sanctions against those captured were drastic, lead-
ing to the creation of forced labour camps. The repression increased
the human haemorrhage, the small nation of Eritrea becoming the sec-
ond source of international refugees on the African continent and the
fourth in the world, with an estimated 500,000 refugees having fled
abroad since the end of the war in 2000 and adding themselves to the
250,000 who had left during the war of independence but had never
returned home. The new refugees flee not only to the Sudan but even
to the territory of their former enemy, Ethiopia. They even cross into
Somalia, in spite of the permanent war, in order to reach the harbour
of Bosaso from where they sail to Yemen. Many try to chance it across
the Sahara all the way to Libya from where they reach Italy. Both
routes have been extremely hazardous and the poorly documented loss
of lives has been massive. Large numbers have fled towards Israel by
way of Egypt but they have been preyed upon by the Sinai Beduin,
many of whom are suspected to work in cahoots with members of the
Eritrean Military Secret Service in order to facilitate ransom payments.
This has resulted in a major human rights disaster.
Given the limited capacity of the Eritrean economy to provide for
the life of the new nation, its survival is tightly linked to the support of
the large Eritrean diaspora in Europe, America and the Middle East.
This diaspora used to contribute 2 per cent of its income to the EPLF
during the war and kept doing so after independence, as long as it saw
252
its efforts being channelled into the development policies of the new
state. But the futility of the 1998–2000 war, the political repression
that followed it and the rapid choking of all forms of civil liberties and
human rights cooled the enthusiasm of the Eritreans living abroad.
Today the Issayas dictatorship has taken to coercing its citizens into
paying this “contribution” by a variety of measures (persecution of rel-
atives living in Eritrea, travel restrictions for home visits, financial sei-
zure of property) which some diaspora members have started to chal-
lenge in international law courts.
The flavour of this tragedy is contained in the title of one of the most
recent studies on Eritrea: it is called “Soldiers, Martyrs, Traitors and
Exiles”.59 This dismal but apt title sums up the present state of Eritrea.
How long it will remain relevant is hard to tell. But the odds are
against a durable institutionalization of the dictatorship on the North
Korean model. The exit of Issayas Afeworqi from the political scene,
be it peaceful or violent, will very probably result in a radical change
of tack—even though the basic tenet of independence is unlikely to be
challenged, even by the strongest anti-Issayas activists. The present
tragedy keeps contributing, like the now distant Italian colonial past,
to the further shaping of a distinct identity. Both the PFDJ loyalists and
the dissident groups which are trying to structure themselves into a
coherent form of opposition now operate according to parameters that
are most distinctly non-Ethiopian.
Culturally the Eritreans remain a part of the complex habesha
(Abyssinian) galaxy. But their historical and political identities are mov-
ing ever deeper into a world of their own, albeit a tragic one. The
chasm started by colonialism, deepened by the failure of the (re)union
and dug even deeper by the war of independence, has now resulted in
an irreversible transformation. Eritrea’s pain used to be attributed to
the colonizers and later blamed on the Ethiopians. Eritreans, like many
other people in history, now have to face—and remedy—their own fail-
ures. Blaming it on President Issayas Afeworqi is an easy way out, sim-
ilar to making Stalin responsible for the failure of the Soviet Union.
Eritreans will have to explore the deeper causes which allowed a heroic,
self-sacrificing and deeply honest movement of national liberation to
degenerate into a tyrannical dictatorship now relying on a form of party
cronyism verging on gangsterism. This form of soul-searching which
has occurred in countries as varied as Germany, South Africa and post-
Vichy France has also failed in many other places where prejudices
253
proved stronger than lucidity. Between the possible paths of catharsis,

civil strife or stagnation, the future remains uncertain for that detached
part of the old Ethiopia. And the future relations between the two sis-
ter countries, now stuck in a toxic no peace, no war situation, will
depend to a large extent on the outcome of the process.
Bibliography and further reading
Abbink, J., 1998, “Briefing: The Eritrean-Ethiopian Border Dispute”, African

Affairs, 97/389, pp. 551–65.
Alemseged Abbay, 1998, Re-imagining Identity: the Divergent Paths of the
Eritrean and Tigrayan Nationalist Stuggles, Lawrenceville, NJ: Red Sea
Press.
Aregawi Berhe, 2009, A Political History of the Tigray’s People Liberation
Front (1975–1991), Los Angeles: Tsehay.
Andebrhan Giorgis, 2014, Eritrea at a Crossroads: A Narrative of Triumph,
Betrayal and Hope, Houston: Strategic Books.
Bereket Habte Selassie, 2009, The Crown and the Pen, Trenton, NJ: Red Sea
Press.
——— 2011, Wounded Nation, Trenton, NJ: Red Sea Press.
Bernal, V., 2004, “Eritrea Goes Global: Reflections on Nationalism in a
Transnational Era”, Cultural Anthropology, 19 (1), pp. 3–25.
Bozzini, David, 2011, “Low-Tech State Surveillance: The Production of
Uncertainty among Conscripts in Eritrea”, Surveillance and Society, 9 (1/2),
pp. 93–113.
Clapham, Christopher, 1969, Haile Selassie’s Government, New York: Praeger.
Caulk, Richard A., 1986, “‘Black Snake. White Snake’: Bahta Hagos and His
Revolt Against Italian Overrule in Eritrea, 1894”, in D. Crummey (ed.),

Banditry, Rebellion, and Social Protest in Africa, Oxford: James Currey/

Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, pp. 293–310.
Connell, D., 1993, Against all Odds: A Chronicle of the Eritrean Revolution,
Trenton, NJ: Red Sea Press.
——— 2005, Conversations with Eritrean Political Prisoners, Trenton, NJ:
Red Sea Press, 2005.
Dell’Oro, Erminia, 1988, Asmara addio, Pordenone: Edizione dello Zibaldone.
Dorman, S.R., 2005, “Past the Kalashnikov: Youth, Politics and the State in
Eritrea”, in J. Abbink and van Kessel, I. (eds), Vanguard or Vandals. Youth,

Politics and Conflict in Africa, Leiden: Brill, pp. 189–204.

Erlich, Haggai, 1996, Ras Alula and the Scramble for Africa. A Political
Biography in Ethiopia and Eritrea (1875–1897), Lawrenceville, NJ: Red Sea
Press.
Gaim Kibreab, 2008, Critical Reflections on the Eritrean War of Independence:
254
Social Capital, Associational Life, Religion, Ethnicity and Sowing Seeds of

Dictatorship, Trenton, NJ: Red Sea Press.
——— 2009, “Forced Labour in Eritrea”, Journal of Modern African Studies
47 (1), pp. 41–72.
——— 2009, Eritrea: A Dream Deferred, Oxford: James Currey.
Iyob, Ruth, 1997, “The Eritrean Experiment: a Cautious Pragmatism?”,
Journal of Modern African Studies, 35 (4), pp. 647–73.
——— 2000, “The Ethiopian-Eritrean Conflict: Diasporic vs. Hegemonic
States in the Horn of Africa, 1991–2000”, Journal of Modern African
Studies, 38 (4), pp. 659–82.
Jacquin-Berdal, D. and Plaut, M. (eds), 2005, Unfinished Business. Ethiopia

and Eritrea at War, Lawrenceville, NJ: Red Sea Press.

Killion, T., 1998, Historical Dictionary of Eritrea, Lanham: The Scarecrow
Press.
Kuhlman, T., 1990, Burden or Boon? A Study of Eritrean Refugees in the
Sudan, Amsterdam: VU University Press.
Munzinger, W., 1967, Ostafrikanische Studien, New York: Johnson Reprint
Corporation.
[Reprint of the Swiss 1864 edition. Excellent ethnographic studies on several
Eritrean peoples. Written by a Swiss adventurer and explorer who became
governor of Massawa before being killed while taking part in the Egyptian
attempt to conquer Ethiopia.]
O’Fahey, R.S. and Spaulding, J.S., 1974, Kingdoms of the Sudan, London:

Methuen.
O’Kane, D. and Redeker Hepner, Y. (eds), 2009, Biopolitics, Militarism, and

Development: Eritrea in the Twenty-First Century, New York: Berghahn

Books.
Okbazghi, Yohannes, 1991, Eritrea: A Pawn in World Politics, Gainesville:
University of Florida Press.
Pateman, R., 1990, Eritrea: Even the Stones are Burning, Trenton, NJ: Red Sea
Press.
Perham, M., 1969, The Government of Ethiopia, Evanston, IL: Northwestern
University Press.
Pollera, A., 1935, Le popolazioni indigene dell’ Eritrea, Bologna: Licino
Cappelli.
[In spite of being a product of Fascist ethnography, a valuable contribution to
the study of the Eritrean populations.]
Pool, D., 1993, “Eritrean Independence: The Legacy of the Derg and the
Politics of Reconstruction”, African Affairs, 92, pp. 389–402.
——— 2001, From Guerrillas to Government: The Eritrean People’s
Liberation Front, Oxford: James Currey.
Poscia, S., 1989, Eritrea, colonia tradita, Rome: Edizioni Associate. [Far from
its apparently polemical title, probably the best study of the complex inner
rivalries and fighting within the Eritrean guerrilla movements.]
255
Ramm, A., 1944, “Great Britain and the Planting of Italian Power in the Red
Sea (1868–1895)”, English Historical Review, 59, 234, pp. 211–36.
Redeker-Hepner, T., 2009, Soldiers, Martyrs, Traitors and Exiles. Political
Conflict in Eritrea and in the Diaspora, Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania Press.
Reid, R. (ed.), 2009, Eritrea’s External Relations, London: Chatham House.

Taddia, Irma, 1986, L’Eritrea colonia (1890–1952), Milan: Franco Angeli. [A

reference work on the Italian colonial period. To be read together with the
work of Tekeste Negash for an overall view.]
Tekeste Negash, 1986, No Medicine for the Bite of a White Snake: Notes on
Nationalism and Resistance in Eritrea, 1890–1940, University of Uppsala.
——— 1987, Italian Colonialism in Eritrea (1882–1941): Policies, Praxis and
Impact, Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell.
——— 1997, Ethiopia and Eritrea: The Federal Experience, Uppsala:
Nordiska Afrikainstitutet.
Tekeste Negash and Tronvoll, K., 2000, Brothers at War: Making Sense of the

Eritrean-Ethiopian War, Oxford: James Currey.

Trevaskis, G.K.N., 1960, Eritrea, a Colony in Transition (1941–1952), Oxford
University Press. [The period of British administration in Eritrea.]
Tronvoll, Kjetil, 1998, “The Process of Nation-Building in Post-War Eritrea:
Created from below or Directed from above?”, Journal of Modern African
Studies, 36 (3): 461–82.
——— 1998, Mai Weini: A Highland Village in Eritrea. A Study of the People,
their Livelihood, and Land Tenure during Times of Turbulence, Lawrenceville,
NJ: Red Sea Press.
Wrong, Michaela, 2005, I Didn’t Do It For You: How the World Betrayed a
Small African Nation, London: Fourth Estate/Harper Collins. [A vivid and
interesting work which is unfortunately smitten by the romantic aura of the
Eritrean liberation struggle and blind to the present Eritrean situation.]
Young, J., 1997, Peasant Revolution in Ethiopia, Cambridge University Press.
Zewde Retta, 2000, Yä-Ertra Gudday, Addis Ababa. [in Amharic]
256
10
THE TIGRAY PEOPLE’S LIBERATION FRONT (TPLF)
Medhane Tadesse
After a sixteen-year armed struggle in the countryside against the Derg

and several armed groups in northern Ethiopia, the Tigray People’s
Liberation Movement (TPLF) came to power in 1991. Since then the
TPLF-led Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front
(EPRDF) has ruled Ethiopia alone, although an ultimately unsuccess-
ful attempt at power sharing was made during the initial transition
period.
The successful transition had much to do with the character and his-
tory of the TPLF, which was instrumental in forming the EPRDF and
has provided the ideological direction of the government, as well as
much of its leadership. Upon assuming power the TPLF embarked on
the difficult task of restructuring the Ethiopian state. Attempts by gen-
erations of rulers of Ethiopia to centralize the state were reversed in
1991 when the Front spearheaded an innovative and bold experiment of
transferring authority to regional administrations based on ethnicity.
The TPLF was founded in 1975 by a group of Tigrayan university
students most of whom were active participants in the Ethiopian stu-
257
dent movement. In the mid-1980s the TPLF established a Marxist-

Leninist vanguard organization and in 1989 the Front formed the
EPRDF, which gave it greater Ethiopia-wide legitimacy and carried the
party to victory in 1991. By defeating several armed groups, and finally
the Derg, the TPLF fought its way to the helm of power in Ethiopia.
Achieving an outright military victory meant that the TPLF faced little
opposition either within or outside the EPRDF. It also meant that it

could gain the approval of its proposed constitution and pursue its
programs of political and economic reform largely unhindered. Its
major challenges were the war with Eritrea and achieving democratic
government at home; it was these challenges that critically defined its
own future and the direction of the country.
After it had amended but not seriously altered its program in the
face of dramatically changed international circumstances (an insurrec-
tion by the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) in 1992–93, Islamist incur-
sions from Sudan and Somalia, the defeat of the Eritrean army in the
war of 1998–2000, a measure of economic progress, and small demo-
cratic advances) it was a shock when the TPLF’s Central Committee
divided in acrimony in March 2001. In the following years many of the
most senior members of the Front were dismissed, marginalized, or
jailed as the movement went through convulsions that spread to the
other sections of the EPRDF and to the army. Meles Zenawi, Prime
Minister, chairman of both the TPLF and the EPRDF, together with
his close followers quickly assumed the upper hand in the contest and
then initiated what was held to be a wide-ranging program of internal
reform. Compounding this, the shock of an ambiguously contested
election in 2005 left the Front with no other choice but regrouping
under one strongman advocating a developmental state agenda.
The early rise of the TPLF

The genesis of a substantial number of the post-1974 opposition
groups goes back to the Ethiopian Student Movement (ESM) of the
late 1960s and early 1970s. In their attempt to integrate the “univer-
sal truths” of Marxism-Leninism into an Ethiopian context, Ethiopian
students touched upon the question of nationalities.1 This proved to be
controversial and threatened the unity of the movement. As a result
less serious as well as more serious advocates of the question of nation-
alities emerged from the Ethiopian Student Movement in the late
258
1960s and early 1970s. This, among others, was the main factor
behind the progressive polarization of the Student Movement and later
the violent conflict among anti-Derg opposition groups in Tigray, par-
ticularly the war between the TPLF and the Ethiopian People’s
Revolutionary Party (EPRP), which resulted in the defeat of the latter
and its expulsion from Tigray. It is the irony of “political fortunes” in
Ethiopia that seemingly large, popular and renowned pan-Ethiopian
organizations such as the EPRP disintegrated and were consequently
weakened, while those whose political programme was not much
appreciated were able to survive and become powerful over time.
Indeed, few expected that the TPLF would eventually emerge as a
dominant force in Ethiopian politics.
In 1972, Tigrayan students established the Tigray University
Students Union (TUSU) to promote Tigrayan culture and historical
pride, to identify the problems of Tigray and to deal with issues such
as the formation of a Tigray Nationalist Organization (TNO) and later
the Tigray Nation Progressive Union (TNPU). In 1974, however, the
radical nationalist faction gained the upper hand. The Union discussed
the national question in general and the problems of Tigray in partic-
ular, the means of struggle (peaceful or armed), and the strategy and
objectives of the struggle. Finally, it resolved in favour of waging an
extended nationalist armed struggle.2 It is widely believed that student
support for the self-determination of nationalities alarmed the Haile
Selassie regime. As a result the regime launched harsh measures against
the students. Thereafter the radical students were forced to look for
other methods of struggle. Most of them left the country to prepare
themselves for armed struggle. With the demise of the Haile Selassie
regime in September 1974, the TNPU was already recruiting members
to leave for rural Tigray in order to start an armed struggle against the
Derg. Tigrayan students were already pointedly determined to create
their own political organization and decided on a Tigrayan nationalist
movement rather than a multinational one.3
Operating from isolated areas in the largely marginalized northern
territory of Tigray, the student-led TPLF was avowedly Marxist and
committed to Maoist notions of protracted people’s war based on the
peasants. It made its zone of operation in the localities of Tigray,
which are known to have been influenced by the protracted war in
Eritrea.4 As Tigray was home to several armed groups, the TPLF had
to rely on a military survival instinct. Unlike the other groups the TPLF
259
gave great emphasis to rural armed struggle and worked hard to

strengthen its guerrilla army. In spite of its leftist dogmatism it was not
naïve as far as the primacy and indispensability of the military strug-
gle was concerned. It might have increasingly shown flexibility in many
other areas such as land tenure, trade and commerce that directly
impacted the peasants upon whom the movement depended, but it
remained committed to the pre-eminence of military survival and its
position on nationalities. Stealth focus on both helped the Front in sev-
eral ways. It proved effective in mobilizing Tigrayan peasants gradu-
ally, providing an organizational structure for uniting other oppressed
nations in struggle; the EPRDF was formed in 1989, and also created
a basis for establishing a post-Derg political order.
Ideological foundations
The TPLF repeatedly declared that the ever-increasing national preju-
dices and hatred had made conditions extremely difficult for class alli-
ances and for a joint struggle of the oppressed and oppressor national-
ities towards a common goal. What the TPLF was actually putting into
words was that although all Ethiopian nationalities were suffering
from class oppression, the national contradiction was so intense that it
became impossible to wage a joint class struggle. Although exaggerated
somewhat, this belief, coupled with what the TPLF termed the chau-
vinist and opportunist stance of multinational organizations, particu-
larly the EPRP, is considered to have been the main cause, not only of
the nationalist way of struggle, but also of the TPLF’s call for the cre-
ation of an independent republic of Tigray. The February 1976
“Manifesto” declares that the first task of the nationalist struggle will
be the establishment of an Independent Democratic Republic of
Tigray.5 At that juncture, the TPLF could have been taken as immature
and narrowly nationalistic in scope.
Unsurprisingly, the startling political position of the TPLF coupled
with other tactical military considerations resulted in bloody battles
between the group and pan-Ethiopian armed groups such as the
Ethiopian Democratic Union (EDU) and the EPRP. Moreover, the

“Manifesto” created serious controversy within the TPLF. Nonetheless,

after serious introspection and internal evaluation, certain postulates

were amended over a nine-month period. Specifically, the fundamen-
talist approach pertaining to the establishment of an independent
260
republic of Tigray was moderated and described by the same leadership

as a dangerous tendency towards narrow nationalism. Consequently,
it was declared that the primary objective of the national struggle
should be the establishment of a democratic Ethiopia based on volun-
tary and democratic principles.6 In spite of this revisionism, the TPLF
always kept a plan in reserve and never rejected the principle of the
right to self-determination, which had belonged to the foundation of
the Ethiopian Student Movement in particular and the Ethiopian Left
in general. This principle, undoubtedly, remained the key element of
the political programme of the Front.
The conviction that Ethiopia’s primary contradiction arose from
state domination by the Amhara over the country’s oppressed nations,
including Tigray, was non-negotiable. This argument further con-
cluded that only national (that is, ethnically based) movements could
successfully confront the Derg and provide the means for replacing the
centralised state with the desired nation-based federation. Later on, the
TPLF realized that it was important to give its programme the sem-
blance of a broader ideological framework. Refuting the view that the
nationalist tendency is always bourgeois in orientation, the TPLF
argued that under a set of revolutionary conditions attention to the
national question could serve the oppressed. TPLF leaders rejected the
dominant notions of proletarian revolution and pan-Ethiopian strug-
gle in favour of a focus on the peasantry, an emphasis on the national
question, and an espousal of Tigrayan nationalism. Quoting Lenin’s
statement that the national question is not usurped by the bourgeoisie,
the TPLF argued that it could, indeed, be directed in a revolutionary
and democratic way.7 It is worth remarking how these two concepts
were to be married later on in the slogan “revolutionary democracy”.
Revolutionary democracy or Abiotawi Demokrasi, therefore, seems to
have taken on its final contours with the emergence of a Marxist fac-
tion within the TPLF. Ideologues and communist elements of the Front

formed a pre-party organization known as the Organization of

Vanguard Elements in 1983, which became the Marxist-Leninist
League of Tigray (MLLT) in 1985.8 Without neglecting the nationalist
theme, the declared objectives of the MLLT were also designed to suit
a pan-Ethiopian situation.
The TPLF brashly reasoned that the national struggle could neutral-
ize not only national oppression, but also any kind of oppression
(including that of the bourgeoisie). It appears, therefore, that the TPLF
261
had also borrowed from Stalin’s theory the idea that oppressed ethnic
groups have the right to struggle against all forms of oppression. This
indicates that, in the eyes of the TPLF, the national question was the
preferred path to total emancipation of the oppressed masses.9 In its
1983 Peoples’ Democratic Program the Front justifies why the national
question is central to the question of democracy, arguing that a demo
cracy could not materialize in Ethiopia without solving the national
question democratically. The Front contended that failure to solve the
national question in a revolutionary democratic manner was, indeed,
undemocratic, declaring that nobody could claim to be a true democrat
and to have established a democratic system without allowing Nations,
Nationalities and Peoples (ethnic groups) to exercise all their demo-
cratic and human rights, including the principle of self-determination.
Applying this thesis to the Ethiopian scene, the TPLF became certain
that the national struggle in its revolutionary and democratic form not
only could achieve national freedom and independence, but was also
the only way forward for the total emancipation of all oppressed
nationalities. In this context, the national question had ceased to be
part of the old bourgeois democratic revolution. Hence, in a very rudi-
mentary way, the TPLF developed and refined a program of national
self-determination, popular administration, revolutionary democracy,
and a commitment to the social and economic advancement of the
country based on the peasantry. This had practical benefits for mobi-
lization and transformation in support of the armed struggle. It helped
the front to link the economic survival of the peasantry to the political
and military fortunes of the TPLF. The pillar of this success was the

system of elected village assemblies, known as Baitos. These gave

Tigrayan peasants an unprecedented democratic control over local
affairs. Clearly, the Baitos system has been widely admired for its suc-
cess in promoting land redistribution, environmental protection and
social reforms. This gradual evolution in doctrine and the resultant
policy formulation of the MLLT clearly reveal one thing. From narrow
nationalist tendencies, the national struggle in Tigray became articu-
lated in such a way as to create a direct link between nationalism (the
national question) and democracy.
This introductory scene, which spans a period of two decades from
the heyday of the Student Movement to the establishment of the MLLT
(from circa 1969 to 1985), is pivotal to an understanding of the ideo-
logical orientation and political dogma of the TPLF/EPRDF and the
262
constitutional dispensation which came into being during the transi-

tional period and unleashed the restructuring of the Ethiopian state. It
must be stressed that unlike most African governing groups, the TPLF
has been a profoundly ideological movement of a Stalinist variant
which came to power through a lengthy armed struggle on the basis of
peasant support and a commitment to a revolutionary transformation
of society. This specific political character of the TPLF heavily affected
its relations with other political/armed groups.
Thriving in a complex insurgency: the TPLF and Ethiopian armed

groups
The notion of protracted war and ideological/political correctness
meant that the TPLF entered only into short term “tactical alliances”
with groups that shared its opposition to the Derg even if they did not
have compatible political programmes. But the TPLFs long term view
of the conflict remained firm and ensured that its objectives were not
subject to alteration because of these alliances, a position that defines
the political position of the TPLF to this day. The TPLF might have
had several plans for Ethiopia but political compromise with any
group or entity was not one of them.
The early years of the struggle were very challenging as the plethora
of armed groups in northern Ethiopia literally sandwiched the TPLF
on all fronts. The TPLF’s area of operation between 1975 and 1978
was mainly eastern Shire, eastern Axum and eastern Adigrat, all adja-
cent to Eritrean territory. While both Eritrean fronts remained ambiv-
alent to its formation, most Ethiopian opposition groups were hostile
to the creation of the TPLF. During the early years of the struggle the

TPLF fought with almost all armed groups in northern Ethiopia one
after another. This defined its political and security orientation.
The bloody and hazardous battles with both Eritrean and Ethiopian
opposition movements also defined its character. They may well have
instilled a sense of fearlessness and military excellence. Using effective
mobilization techniques, a detailed appraisal mechanism, systematic
propaganda, and persistent political work that combined cultural sym-
bols, the TPLF was able to overcome the difficulties faced by the envi-
ronment in which it was operating. Besides, in the early days of the rev-
olution no group took the TPLF seriously and it was seen by many
(EPRP, EPLF, ELF, EDU) as an organization hastily formed to confuse
263
and weaken the revolutionary struggle. Indeed, the fact that during the
initial years the group was underestimated and ignored by all the actors
in the country, including the government, was a blessing in disguise.
The TPLF was helped by the fact that the Derg was late to come to
western Tigray and it was helped further when the Derg continued to
ignore the seriousness of the challenge posed by the TPLF. The military

focus of the Derg was on the EDU and the EPRP while the TPLF used
the respite to prepare itself militarily. It is a political irony that the
eventually most powerful group in the country was relegated to a side
show on the Derg’s radar for many years. Partly because of its military
preoccupation in Eritrea and the Ogaden and partly because it under-
estimated the potential threat from the TPLF, the government did not
launch significant military campaigns in the region until 1978, although
there were cases when the government made efforts to eliminate TPLF
“suspected” members and supporters during the Red Terror. Further
more, the relative lack of attention from the government provided the
TPLF with an opportunity to expand its operations in Tigray.
Two years into the beginning of the armed struggle the TPLF was in
a position to militarily engage with its opponents, one after another, at
a time of its own choice. But when it started the fighting was nonethe-
less tough and revelatory. TPLF combatants had to fight to the death
just to survive as a group. The bloody battles with the EDU in 1977
were fatal and fateful. Indeed, it was the brutal and bloody war with
EDU that defined the military fortunes and character of the TPLF. It
was a time of adversity in which the TPLF barely thrived. The dogged-
ness and tenacity with which the TPLF won the war had a huge impact
on the military position of the TPLF beyond Tigray.
The successive battles with the Ethiopian Democratic Union (EDU)
in western Tigray were not only important in holding a chunk of terri-
tory; they but greatly added to the military clout of the Front and put
the group in a much stronger position vis-à-vis other groups, particu-
larly the EPRP. It was during this time that a spirit of valour and fear-

lessness was instilled among TPLF fighters, creating a view of their own
bravery as greater than that of other groups. The military significance
of the war with EDU thus cannot be overstated. It marked the begin-
ning of the TPLF as the dominant military force in Tigray.10 In less than
two years the “provincial” TPLF had become a disruptive military force
in a complex national emergency involving the whole country.
The violent struggle with the EPRP in the years between 1975 and
1978 also played a role in the development of the TPLF. Both organi-

264
zations engaged in a serious struggle, each working hard to gain

supremacy over the other in the urban as well as rural areas of Tigray.
The conflict was multi-dimensional. It involved propaganda, the orga-
nization of the people, the setting up of “popular” committees and
judiciary bodies as well as covert and overt armed conflicts in the
towns and rural areas of Tigray. The TPLF gave a great deal of empha-
sis to the military aspect of the struggle, on the basis of which the
EPRP accused it of being a “Focoist” and right wing petty bourgeoisie
organization with strong fascist inclinations. On the other hand the
TPLF criticized the EPRP as an artificial military group which didn’t
have a fighting spirit. The TPLF’s view was that, militarily speaking,
the EPRP didn’t have what it takes. The TPLF, certainly, did not lead
a complacent or secondary military life.
Moreover the EPRP tried to exploit the rift between the TPLF and
the Tigray Liberation Front (TLF) and presented it as a clash between
the regional groups of Adwa and Agame respectively. Given the sup-
port the EPRP had from both Eritrean fronts (ELF and EPLF) the
TPLF was bent on dislodging the group from Tigray. Both organiza-
tions also accused each other of collaborating with the Derg authori-
ties during the Red Terror in order to eliminate the members of the
other group in the towns of Tigray. The conflict was so bloody and
confused that the Derg had difficulty in identifying its targets in most
towns of Tigray. It is reported that, aside from Addis Ababa, the Red
Terror took its biggest toll in Tigray. Beginning in mid-1977 tension
built up between the two organizations and they were no longer on
speaking terms. The struggle for supremacy over Tigray would enter
its final stages with the bloody conflict in rural areas. Lack of informa-
tion and poor preparation as well as wrong timing contributed to the
military defeat of the EPRP at the hands of the TPLF. The TPLF was

able to integrate itself with the people of Tigray. It defined its political
position in a way that articulated the grievances of the people. Leaders
and fighters of the front operated alongside the people living the life of
the poor peasant. Over time the refined political and military position
of the TPLF, through a series of corrective measures, produced disci-
plined, well-politicized and gallant fighters, laying the ground for deci-
sive victories over its opponents.
The fact that the EPRP had entered into a conflict with the TPLF just
when it emerged from its victory against the EDU is a major variable.
Like all military actors in the country the EPRP seriously misjudged
265
when and how to enter a conflict with the TPLF—with catastrophic

results. Winning the war against the major pan-Ethiopian nationalist
force in Tigray paved the way for the TPLF dominance of Ethiopian
politics in the years to come. TPLF leaders have apparently come to
view the EPRP as a kind of Frankenstein monster that needed to be
stamped out. This episode cleared the major obstacle at the national
level and ultimately defined the political fortunes of the TPLF. Hence

the TPLF actually won the war as early as in 1978, way before its final
“official” victory of May 1991.
Managing other powerful adversaries: the TPLF and the Eritrean

Fronts
Another major complication faced by the TPLF during the early years
of the struggle was its relationship with the Eritrean People’s Liberation
Front (EPLF) and the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF). Though it pro-
vided token military assistance and training the EPLF was apprehensive
about the TPLF and didn’t regard it as a viable organization in the fight
against the Derg. The conflict with the EPRP in Tigray also had a bear-
ing on the TPLF’s relations with both Eritrean fronts; both the EPLF
and later the ELF are reported to have tried to force the TPLF into
accepting to become subservient to the “giant” EPRP, showing their
patronizing attitude to the TPLF. Indeed, one of the preconditions for

accepting trainees from Tigray by the EPLF was that the TPLF should
support the EPRP. Both Eritrean fronts, particularly the EPLF, tried to

marginalize the TPLF because of the military balance of power (as the
EPLF perceived it). This was mainly true before the TPLF defeated the
EPRP in Tigray. No doubt, the EPLF preferred to deal with the EPRP
because at that stage it was perceived to be a promising organization,
leading many observers to believe that sooner or later it would topple
the Derg. Eritrean armed groups have had a long record of underesti-
mating the TPLF and this appears to be the reason why the EPLF pur-
sued a policy of fully marginalizing the TPLF after it signed a co-oper-
ation agreement with the EPRP. In a joint statement released by the

EPLF and the EPRP in August 1976, the two groups agreed to support
each other militarily, politically and materially.11 Besides, the EPLF was
suspicious of the TPLF’s relations with its arch-enemy the ELF.
During those years the ELF had a military presence in Western
Tigray, so there were some attempts to establish military contacts
266
between the TPLF and the ELF, and that might have discouraged the
EPLF from approaching the TPLF. Indeed the support provided by the

ELF to the TPLF was relatively more substantial than the EPLF’s coop-
eration. Gradually, clear differences in ideology and means of war fur-
ther complicated the relations between the two. Not surprisingly, the
EPLF began to entertain the idea of engaging with the TPLF and soften
its position when the balance of military power in Tigray changed in
favour of the TPLF.12 A consistent trend throughout the armed strug-
gle was the fact that the TPLF had to show its military might to be
accepted as a partner and a credible force by Eritrean forces in general
and the EPLF in particular.
In 1978, the EPLF tried to ingratiate itself with the TPLF through
conciliatory tones and by appreciating the value of cooperation. Owing
to the closeness of political and organizational features—the EPLF at
least officially adopted a radical socialist line which seems to have
attracted the TPLF—and exhaustion from the war with EDU and the
EPRP, the TPLF was badly in need of some assistance and cooperation
from the EPLF. The two fronts signed a cooperation pact in 1978, the

same year the TPLF chased the EPRP from Tigray.13 Eventually, tension
developed between the TPLF and the ELF. From the very beginning the

two groups had a troubled relationship. Being a veteran liberation

movement the ELF had a demeaning view of the TPLF. Their area of

operations being one and the same, both fronts had a series of unre-
solved border and administrative issues. The ELF was active and had
influence over large rural areas of north-western Tigray between Badme
and Adi-Hageray, areas contested during the recent war between Eritrea
and Ethiopia. Evidently the TPLF was not ready to play the role of a
puppet, as the ELF would have liked it to do. Moreover, politically
speaking they were antagonistic and contradictory to each other.
Although in 1975–76 the TPLF learned a lot from the brief joint mili-
tary operations with the ELF against the Derg, it developed a great deal
of aversion towards the ELF’s arrogant behaviour as well as its politi-
cally backward tendencies.14 There were huge differences on multiple
fronts, from the issue of nationalities to the Eritrean question and pop-
ular participation in the struggle. Clearly, the TPLF approached the
ELF in the early days because of difficult circumstances and not out of
veneration or strategic partnership. The brief period of partnership was
used, for what it was worth, as a military lesson during the formative
years of the TPLF—the rest is ideology and politics.
267
While the military preponderance of the TPLF attracted the atten-

tion of the EPLF it increased the apprehension of the ELF. After clear-

ing the EDU from western Tigray it was a matter of time before the
TPLF become a major threat to the very survival and longterm inter-
ests of the ELF. Clearly, the ELF was averse to the TPLF’s way of

doing things, such as organizing the peasantry and carrying out land
reform. For the TPLF, the very idea of land reform was a major ele-
ment of its political programme and ideological orientation. The
attempt to address peasant problems and organizing them for the
struggle was, indeed, the major source of strength for the TPLF. This

and the right to self-determination had been the hallmark of the front
that differentiated it from all political and armed groups in the coun-
try, which ultimately gave it a huge military and political advantage. A
contributing factor in the mutual mistrust was the fact that the ELF
had close relations with the Tigray Liberation Front (TLF), which had
been eliminated by the TPLF. The TPLF also developed grudges against

the ELF due to its support of the EDU and the EPRP against which it
was fighting for supremacy over Tigray. The fact that Eritrean fronts
were helping anti-TPLF armed groups and were unable to check the
rise of the TPLF can be explained in several ways—weak planning,
poor judgment, ill-conceived views, a less sound political base and dis-
mal popular mobilization. The astuteness with which the TPLF effec-
tively used its weak position and managed to conceal it, as well as its
selection of timing to make alliances and enter into armed confronta-
tions, is a telling commentary on the complex turn of events and twist
of coincidence that helped it to wear away all military challenges and
grow into a major player in Ethiopian politics.
Thus, the ELF had long incurred the TPLF’s disfavour and by 1979
both groups were clearly at loggerheads. The dynamics of the initial
conflict between the ELF and the TPLF were, from all angles, separate
from inter-Eritrean rivalry. However, the timing was perfect for the
TPLF as it was around that time that the EPLF, after years of pro-
tracted warfare, found it opportune to strike against the common
enemy, the ELF. Hugely attracted by TPLF’s military prowess and its

war footing against the ELF, the EPLF seemed to have decided to con-
duct a final onslaught against the ELF in western Eritrea. In mid-1979,
the ELF became restless and prepared for war behind the TPLF lines in
western Tigray. The first battles between the ELF and the TPLF were
fought in late November 1979 when the ELF invaded the very base of
268
the TPLF at the Belesa River in central Tigray. Highly weakened by

internal squabbles, the ELF was unable to resist the TPLF counterat-
tack. Successive battles led to the military decline of the ELF and its
eventual defeat by the EPLF in 1981.15 The TPLF was instrumental in
the defeat and disintegration of the veteran Eritrean armed movement,
unequivocally putting its footprint in the war of Eritrean independence
and the future of Eritrea. It was in the early years that the TPLF dealt
with veteran Eritrean and Ethiopian political/armed movements, which
cleared the way for the post-1991 dispensation in both countries. By
the end of 1979, the EPLF and the TPLF were the only major armed
groups in Eritrea and Ethiopia respectively. The TPLF’s fast rise from
obscurity to military dominance was unexpected by many. Less than
four years after its establishment, the TPLF, under the most unfavour-
able circumstances, had been able to decisively deal with the TLF,
EDU, EPRP and the ELF. By the early 1980s, the TPLF had become

the most powerful opposition group in northern Ethiopia surpassed,

militarily speaking, only by the EPLF. Very soon however the imbal-

ance militarily would be changed in the TPLF’s favour.

Compared to the TPLF, which engaged with peasant conditions that
in turn increased its obsession with fundamental ideological convic-
tions, the EPLF was just a military organization. Nurtured as a tiny
military force in the Sahel mountains isolated from its own population
the EPLF had the fascination of a military institution which defined its
character in the years to come. Any aspect of cooperation between the
two would remain tactical and mostly characterized by short termism.
As early as 1981 the TPLF made it clear that its alliance with the EPLF
was only tactical and not strategic.The notion of ideological correct-
ness, mounting military strength and the requirements of warfare
meant that the TPLF entered short-term “tactical” alliances with
groups that shared its opposition to the Derg even if they did not have
compatible political programmes. But the TPLF’s long-term view of
the conflict and its negative perceptions of other armed groups
remained firm and ensured that its objectives were not subject to alter-
ation because of these short term alliances. The TPLF had always been
deeply ideological and the sheer necessity of survival in a hostile envi-
ronment seemed to have forced its leaders to frequently refer to the
broader Marxist literature. The frequent joke at the time was that
with no foreign alliances apart from a difficult relationship with the
EPLF, the TPLF leadership had to look to Marx, Stalin, and Mao for
269
inspiration and so eventually finished by seeking solace in Albania’s

Enver Hoxha.
As the TPLF advanced in the 1980s it increasingly challenged the
EPLF in a number of areas, the most persistent disagreement being
over their different interpretations of national self-determination and
the role and character of the Soviet Union. With a large and menacing
military offensive of the Derg in sight the political differences were
temporarily dampened, which gave way to a brief tactical military
cooperation. In 1982 the TPLF resolved in favour of defending the
Sahel mountains during the Red Star Campaign, the largest offensive
of the Derg against the EPLF. It was during this time that the TPLF

attracted the attention of the military leadership in Addis Ababa. It is

remarkable that the Derg was almost unaware of the alarming rise of
the TPLF. It was not until the late 1980s that it fully understood the

military threat posed by the group. Apart from the occasional skir-
mishes, between November 1976 and early 1983 the government
launched six major offensive campaigns against the TPLF; none of
these campaigns achieved their goals. The TPLF mostly avoided con-
ventional resistance whenever the military balance of power was in
favour of the government. The front during this time largely depended
on guerrilla warfare to destroy government forces stationed in the dif-
ferent parts of Tigray. In a series of victories it won over government
forces the front was able to increase its stockpile of weapons.
As much as it played a leading role in the disintegration of the ELF,
the TPLF decided to save the Eritrean Revolution, and by implication
the EPLF, from destruction by blunting successive offensives of the
Derg army. As long as the TPLF continued to engage in tactical mili-
tary alliances the multi-faceted political differences were kept under
wraps, but the rapid expansion of the TPLF in the mid-1980s brought
these differences to the fore.
A leap forward: ideological reinforcement and organizational

advancement
Given the developing enmity from the EPLF, it was imperative for the
TPLF to secure independent supply lines for the fast growing armed
struggle against the Derg. And it had to do it fast. In September 1984
the TPLF constructed its own supply line through Welqait in western
Tigray to the Sudan, which ended up leading to a break between the
270
two organizations in 1985. 1985 was also a year of significant advance

for the TPLF in many aspects. It held a Party Congress and a crucial
reassessment was made on the history of its ten years of struggle. The
front was digging in for the long haul. After a series of discussions
from the top down to the smallest unit, the front purged some its lead-
ers such as Aregawi Berhe and Giday Zeratsion for political and disci-
plinary reasons. This served as a precursor to the formation of the
Marxist-Leninist League of Tigray (MLLT) and the rise of Meles
Zenawi as the leader and chief ideologue of the Front.16 The 1985
TPLF congress also considered the need for a permanent base area. In
1985–86 the rebels destroyed the bridge on the river Tekezze, block-
ing the Welqait-Tembien-Adi Da’ero roads, and established a perma-
nent base area at Kazza and Dajana. The group utilized this brief
moment of respite and soul searching to develop the ideology of the
TPLF, shift the orientation from Tigray to Ethiopia, and carry out the
necessary research to better pursue the objectives of the movement,
particularly in the military sphere. Armed with new conceptual ammu-
nition, both military and political, the TPLF braced itself for the sec-
ond phase of its struggle clearly aimed at its major enemy, the Derg. By
about the mid-1980s the TPLF had been able to acquire a sufficient
quantity of light weapons but it had almost no heavy weapons. But
its string of military successes had now put it in a position to begin to

acquire them.17
The TPLF made further advances and was able to control more ter-
ritory. In late 1988 and early 1989 the Front conducted a series of suc-
cessful military operations which made it difficult for the Derg to fully
concentrate on the war in Eritrea. With the Derg’s demise in sight the
TPLF and EPLF were busy and highly agitated; their alliance was
resumed in 1988, but the differences remained and would resurface at
the time of the war that broke out a decade later between Eritrea and
Ethiopia. In March 1988 the EPLF won a decisive victory over the
highly concentrated and well-equipped government forces at Af’abet.18
This was accompanied by a decisive military victory on the Shire Front
by the TPLF, another turning point in the war against the Derg. The
battle of Shire proved the excellent military capabilities of the
TPLF. Sudden and unexpected, the battle of Shire inflicted a decisive

blow to the government.19 Events following the battle not only changed
the military balance of power dramatically in favour of the TPLF, sub-
sequently the main component part of the EPRDF, but also drastically
271
shortened the path to final victory over the military government of

Ethiopia. After the battle of Shire the EPRDF and EPLF went on coor-
dinating their offensive operations against the government army. In the
post-Shire war between the TPLF and government forces, despite con-
siderable casualties on both sides, all battles were fought a smaller
scale, making the battle of Shire a landmark in the history of the pro-
tracted war in Ethiopia. The TPLF, for many years confined to the hills
and the borderlands with Sudan, would penetrate as far south as
northern Shewa, and capture the capital in less than two years.
The TPLF, right from the start, had displayed organizational and
military effectiveness. This is largely attributed to a persistent focus on
military discipline and political orientation. The main and decisive fac-
tor in the TPLF’s victory over its opponents was its political and mili-
tary superiority. Throughout the protracted war the TPLF effectively
politicized the people and was particularly capable of successfully inte-
grating itself with the rural population. The front was not only able to
get popular support in Tigray but also in neighbouring regions. The
TPLF’s multi-faceted propaganda activities indeed resulted in its being
politically superior to the government in both Tigray and adjacent
regions. Equally important in conducting war and developing a bond
with the peasants, according to TPLF leaders, was the development of
a system of evaluation (plans and programmes of accountability) of
leaders, known as gim gema.20 First taken up by intellectuals, who had
always dominated the movement, it then spread to the guerrilla army
and was soon deemed to be crucial for the development of military
skills as well as making commanders answerable to their fighters. From
the army, evaluation systems spread to the liberated territories and
were introduced to the local councils, mass associations and militias
where they gained popularity as the best means of ensuring the
accountability of leaders and administrators, a function they continue
to retain.
Hence, during the late 1980s, the TPLF’s military successes against
the Derg allowed it to expand beyond its traditional northern base of
operations. They also prompted the TPLF to develop political and orga-
nizational roots in the areas through which they were advancing. This
led to a search for ethnic organizations at the regional level which could
be depended upon as allies, both in the struggle against the Derg and in
the subsequent restructuring of Ethiopia along ethno-regional lines. The
TPLF thus had to woo and win over several ethnic armed groups.
272
Where national movements existed and were judged to be ideologically

compatible, the TPLF sought to forge alliances. Where suitable move-
ments did not exist, it encouraged their creation. The Front, then, estab-
lished the EPRDF as a federation of various sub-organizations (TPLF,
EPDM, OPDO and EDORM) in 1989 to serve as an umbrella for the
expanding constellation of allied regional parties. This enabled the
TPLF to form alliances with (and in practice to dominate) parties rep-
resenting other nationalities. In its first National Congress (17–
23 January 1991), the TPLF-dominated EPRDF adopted a political and

economic programme premised on the TPLF’s long-standing interpre-

tation of the national question. Suffice it to say, then, that the influence
of the TPLF was so pervasive that its political orientation, logically,
became the political programme of the new umbrella Front.
EPRDF victories in strategic towns in northern and central Ethiopia
between April 1990 and April 1991 shattered the morale of the
Ethiopian Defence Force and the Derg in early May 1991. The peace
negotiations between the TPLF and the Derg, which were held in Rome
in 1989 and 1990 and later in May 1991 in London, were only per-
functory as the military dominance of the rebellion had become over-
whelming. In the end the TPLF-led EPRDF forces seized the capital on
the morning of 28 May 1991 and a Provisional Administration was

instituted on 1 June 1991.

The TPLF and the transition

After the TPLF-led EPRDF had entered Addis Ababa it organized a
conference to map out the country’s future but, significantly, the orga-
nizations invited were national but regionally-grounded either as liber-
ation fronts or groups recently organized, frequently at the behest of
the TPLF. As an ideologically-driven party, and true to its character

and history, the EPRDF was suspicious and careful not to admit those
organizations it considered detrimental to the creation of an ethno-
regionally structured state.21 A whole bevy of ethnic parties were cre-
ated specifically to participate in the Conference. The Addis Ababa
conference revolved around the rights of the country’s nationalities
which were approved, including a right to secession. The TPLF’s out-
right military victory, and its domination of the transitional conference
that was a product of that victory, ensured that its will prevailed. Upon
completion of the conference the Transitional Government of Ethiopia
273
(TGE) was established and the TPLF Chairman Meles Zenawi assumed
the presidency. An EPRDF-dominated Council of People’s Represen
tatives was set up and it adopted the resolutions of the Addis Ababa
conference as an interim constitution. But before much progress could
be made on these plans, regional elections were organized for June
1992 causing the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) to revolt as it could
not see an independent role for itself in this new dispensation.
The complete victory of the TPLF over all its opponents over the
preceding years and the Derg in 1991, the Front’s administrative com-
petence, a measure of pragmatism, the invaluable experience of devel-
oping a close understanding of the country’s peasants, and a belated
appreciation of the changed international context had produced—at
least until the war with Eritrea and the 2005 elections—a generally
smooth transition. Outright military victory also meant that the TPLF
could gain the approval of its constitution and predetermined political
processes and pursue largely unhindered its programme of political and
economic reform. While the Transitional Charter left the formal struc-
tures of the emerging Federal States to be defined by the Council of
Representatives, and ultimately by the constitution-drafting process,
the new political framework was already evolving as regional parties
began to fight for control over local administrations and imposed their
mark on the political and social landscape. The transitional period
(1991–4) was not all-inclusive and was, therefore, characterized by
tension as ethno-regional forces tried to challenge the EPRDF Army in
their own localities. The most immediate challenge to the TPLF-led
EPRDF derived from the friction between the Front and the OLF. The
OLF had played an important but secondary role in the Addis Ababa
conference, and being a party to the London conference was given the
next largest group of seats in the Council of People’s Representatives
after the EPRDF, and promised that its forces would be integrated with
those of the national army. However, at the end of 1991 and in early
1992, regional power struggles escalated into intense conflicts, pre-
dominantly in the Oromiya and Ethio-Somali National Regional States
where the armed wings of the respective regional political movements
clashed both with each other and with the forces of the EPRDF.
The OLF in particular had grown increasingly disenchanted with the
TPLF’s domination of the transitional government, as it seriously
doubted the Front’s commitment to the right of nationalities to secede
from the Ethiopian federation and, after alleging intimidation and
274
other irregularities in the elections, withdrew from the government and

launched a failed insurrection. It was in this inauspicious climate that
preparations were made for the elections of Regional and District
Councils in June 1992.22 The political differences between the OLF and
the EPRDF were minimal; they revolved mainly around the sharing of
power in an ethnically structured political system. And yet the eventual
clampdown on the OLF, in which around 20,000 combatants were
captured against minimal army losses, foreclosed the possibility of
power sharing in the post-1991 Ethiopia. In December 1994 the TPLF-
led government approved a constitution which led to the creation of a
federal state of ten regions. This paved the way for national elections
in May 1995 which in the absence of major opposition parties, pro-
duced a massive victory for the TPLF and its allies, and on 24 August

the country was formally proclaimed the Federal Democratic Republic

of Ethiopia (FDRE). Upon assuming power the TPLF embarked on the
demanding task of restructuring the Ethiopian state. Attempts by gen-
erations of rulers of Ethiopia to centralize the state were reversed in
1991, with the coming to power of the TPLF-led Ethiopian People’s
Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF), which facilitated the inde-
pendence of Eritrea and has pursued an innovative and bold experi-
ment of transferring authority to ethnically based regional administra-
tions. The EPRDF’s great experiment, designed by the TPLF to give
legitimacy to ethnic nationalism, which has brought decades of war to
Ethiopia, together with the formation of a system of ethnic-based
regional administration, inevitably ensured its dominance.
It could safely be argued that the overall democratic process from
1995 to 2000 had been tailored to maximize the influence of the
TPLF. As a result political change could only have come from within

the EPRDF and not from the opposition. While the EPRDF had not
closed the door to power sharing, it held that forces like the OLF must
accept the 1994 Constitution, by implication the status quo. The over-
all political supremacy of the EPRDF at the end of the 1990s was the
product of its having secured the political, military and organizational
balance of power in its favour. Having achieved an outright military
victory against the Derg in May 1991, the Front thereafter faced no
coordinated national armed opposition. As a result, the post-1991
security situation in Ethiopia depended, by and large, on the capacity
of the EPRDF to employ the instruments of violence at its disposal.
Ultimately, the “politics of co-optation” and growing inter-National
275
Regional State dialogue and cooperation brought about the consolida-

tion of EPRDF rule, the gradual withering of a viable national opposi-
tion and a struggling civil society. As discussed earlier, the TPLF main-
tains only a nominal commitment to liberal democracy, which it had
rhetorically adopted in order to appease outside donors; its own pref-
erence was for a very different form of “revolutionary democracy”, in
which a revolutionary democratic party with a “correct line” would be
the one to authentically represents the interests of the broad masses of
the population, while rival parties—which could not by definition rep-
resent those interests—were judged to be illegitimate.
This TPLF-led transition clearly showed that by initiating a guided
programme of democratization, the Front had achieved its goals of
peace—it established a workable constitution, carried out programmes
of economic and political reform and above all cemented its hegemonic
status, which enabled it to freely implement its revolutionary political
ideology. To recapitulate, the EPRDF’s democratic nationalism had to
tolerate a careful and limited programme of democratization without
undermining the intended route and the end result. Meanwhile most of
the success of the transitional period can be attributed to the EPRDF’s
economic policies and the capacity of the Front to carry them out.
Upon assuming power in May 1991 the EPRDF was confronted with
an economy that was on the brink of collapse, a state devoid of funds,
and a discontented civil service dominating the bureaucracy. The
incoming government quickly introduced some reforms by officially
encouraging markets, opening up trade and privatizing state farms and
other largely bankrupt state holdings, liquidating of the hated state
agricultural marketing corporation. TPLF leaders who had revered
Enver Hoxha of Albania only months before triumphantly entering
Addis Ababa had to show a great deal of pragmatism and adapt to the
changing international context. Ethiopia’s economy started to grow
and witnessed some structural changes immediately after the end of the
transition period. Indeed, international financial institutions applauded
the economic changes and continued to support the TPLF’s economic
transformation policies, owing largely to the clever way in which TPLF
leaders managed their relations with the West and multilateral finan-
cial institutions.23
In the second half of the 1990s the TPLF-led EPRDF extensively
reformed the state and the economy, demonstrating its administrative
competence by managing successive droughts and domestic security.
276
Ethiopia’s government has operated a state-dominated market econ-

omy since rebels overthrew a socialist military regime in 1991. While
private investment has been encouraged in areas including agriculture
and manufacturing, government enterprises continue to control or
monopolize financial services, transport, energy and telecommunica-
tions. Good security, governance and encouraging levels of economic
development were unfortunately disrupted by the outbreak of the
Eritrean-Ethiopian war in May 1998.
The war with Eritrea and internal crisis

The EPLF and TPLF carried forward their differences and the resultant
mutual suspicion even while they worked to maintain a shaky military
alliance to overthrow the Derg. Historical animosity and mutual sus-
picions, different, if not opposing, political trajectories, and prevalent
economic and border issues might be considered as major factors in the
conflict. None of these differences were publicly on display during the
Eritrean independence referendum. However, that such differences
should produce war has more to do with the perceived military invin-
cibility of the EPLF (on which its internal and external legitimacy, as
well as its economic and the foreign policy, was based) than with bor-
der disputes that were never a problem for the two organizations or
the people who lived in the areas in question. Evidently, the calculus of
both regimes was to resolve outstanding issues, which in turn became
the main drivers of the sudden outbreak of the conflict and the way it
played out. The EPLF, unaware of the regional distribution of power
and the fact that TPLF leaders had become masters of a historic state,
overwhelmingly and fatally counted much on their own perceived mil-
itary invincibility.
The notion of Eritrean military invincibility has been at the core of
the EPLF’s internal and external legitimacy. The fact that the TPLF
had long changed the military balance in its favour and would not tol-
erate anything that might undermine its dominant position in Ethiopia
was consistently ignored by the leadership in Asmara. The history and
character of the TPLF were duly overlooked, its organizational and
military qualities forgotten. Like the Derg, the EPLF was oblivious to
the clout and dynamism of the TPLF. And the fact that the war shat-

tered that sense of invincibility, and the political and foreign policy
issues associated with it, would not be forgotten or forgiven; hence, a
277
long drawn out feud between the two. True to its instinct, intelligent
sequencing and accurate reading of its internal and external environ-
ment the TPLF decided to accommodate the EPLF in every way possi-
ble. The new government entered various economic and security pacts
with Eritrea that many felt served Asmara’s interests more than those
of Ethiopia. That the EPLF thought such pacts would be accorded
long-term implementation was a critical misjudgement. Unaware of the
changing environment and the nature of the state the TPLF had cap-
tured, the EPLF neglected dispute resolution mechanisms because of its
perceptions of its military invincibility.24 Having spent more years in
the bush and given its historical superiority in armaments, the EPLF
was irritated to find itself at the helm of a country much smaller and
less influential than Ethiopia.
Meanwhile, the TPLF encouraged the EPLF leadership and the
Eritreans to vote for outright independence, eventually eliminating the
possibility of the EPLF tampering with the new dispensation and
power consolidation process in Ethiopia. The hint that the EPLF and
the Derg were major potential troublemakers in the event of a power
sharing agreement was never overlooked. The EPLF was allowed to
feel superior and continue its rapacious policies, with only rare notes
of protest from the government in Addis Ababa. The TPLF leadership
bears part of the responsibility for the rising temptation of the EPLF to
follow dangerous options. The sagacity with which the TPLF managed
the relationship with the EPLF during the post-1991 period says more
about the nature of the Front. However, given the narrative it has
regarding its relations with Eritrean fronts and the pattern of behav-
iour of the EPLF, it is difficult to understand how TPLF leaders could
have been so ill prepared for the military attack from Eritrea.25
Though caught unprepared for the Eritrean invasion of its territory
on 12 May 1998 the Ethiopian government bounced back swiftly, illus-
trating the TPLF’s organizational leadership and the capacity and depth
of the Ethiopian state. The TPLF leadership quickly mobilized the coun-
try and conducted successful offensives that ultimately resulted in the
defeat of the Eritrean army and control of a chunk of Eritrean territory.
The Algiers Agreement in 2000, largely dictated by Ethiopia, marked
the culmination of the war and subsequent stalemate between Ethiopia
and Eritrea. While the TPLF leadership demonstrated considerable
skills at mobilization and war making, its handling of the diplomatic
front both during and after the war exposed its inexperience. This
278
weakness was compounded by a focus on internal power struggles due

to the untimely outbreak of the TPLF crisis. The Ethiopian government
could be said to have pre-emptively announced its acceptance of the rul-
ing by the Ethio-Eritrean Boundary Commission (EEBC), which
awarded the disputed areas controlled by Ethiopia to Eritrea.26
The end of the war brought an increasing need to assess the TPLF’s
ten-year performance and prepare the ground for conventions of the
Front and the EPRDF. The course and outcome of the war with Eritrea

had far-reaching consequences for the TPLF. The war saw an unex-

pected change of power relations within the TPLF.27 The ultimate vic-
tory over Eritrea can be attributed to the hard-line positions of the
group that challenged Meles’ leadership during the war. While Meles
repeatedly urged caution to his colleagues, it was in fact the so-called
“hard-liners” in the TPLF who clearly had the support of the majority
of Ethiopians in their resolute determination to achieve an unambigu-
ous victory over Isayas and his army. But in the wake of the victory
Meles astutely marginalized and then dismissed the very people who
were most responsible for the victory over Eritrea. It appears that the
majority of the TPLF favoured a swift and decisive military victory not
only to demolish Eritrean pretensions, but also to make clear that
Ethiopia would not become an agent of the West, and to assert the
country’s dominance in the Horn of Africa. The group around Meles
in turn were more pragmatic about the war because they felt that the
conflict seriously undermined economic development upon which the
future of Ethiopia depended. Crudely, however, some in the first group
began to view Meles as an agent of the West, while his group tended
to view the militants as traditionalists and die-hard Marxists.
The first major dispute broke out over how to conduct the war and
these in turn overlapped with personal differences, which led to the
development of factions. Critical in this early period were disagree-
ments over recommendations made by the OAU on the Technical
Arrangements to end the war. After a raucous and extensive debate the
Central Committee divided 17 to 13 to reject the generally conciliatory
proposals and, significantly, Meles voted with the minority. This
marked the beginning of concrete divisions within the leadership. It
also made clear the acrimony developing between Meles and other
members of the Central Committee, and many now believe that bitter-
ness over the issue was a direct precursor to the subsequent crisis. It
could be argued that had the war not broken out at this time an eval-
279
uation of the Front would have taken place, and in a much more pos-
itive atmosphere that might have saved the party the grief it was to
endure. The results of that struggle can be seen in the departure of
many senior members of the Front, the demoralization of many others,
the increasing shift in power to Meles, and the greater significance
given to the Amhara component of the EPRDF at the expense of the
TPLF. Differences among the EPRDF leadership, and in particular its

TPLF core, had risen periodically, but the Eritrean war proved the cat-
alyst in dividing the leadership.
While his opponents held that an assessment of the war with Eritrea
could serve as a point of departure, the group associated with Meles
contended that the objective should be to carry out a ten-year evalua-
tion of the EPRDF’s rule. During the summer of 2000 Meles presented
a paper to the Central Committee denouncing Bonapartism, which
argued that the TPLF’s leadership was suffering serious decay and
becoming distant from its constituency. The TPLF Central Committee
had indeed debated Bonapartism, after which at the end of February
the Meles-sponsored report gained the support of the TPLF Central
Committee by a small majority of 15 in favour to 13 opposed, after
considerable lobbying by the Meles group. His rivals then walked out
and Meles seized the moment to consolidate his power. Meles called a
conference of the TPLF cadres in Mekelle in which he appealed to
Tigrayan nationalism and raised slogans that suggested that if he lost
his battle with the dissidents then Tigray would also be lost and, fur-
thermore, that the survival of the party was at stake. Again the dissi-
dents walked out of the meeting and Meles again carried the vote.
Meles effectively promoted an idiosyncratic narrative of an endangered
TPLF. With the dissidents effectively frozen, Meles and his allies began

what they called Tehadso, or “renewal”.28 Dubbed a ten-year assess-

ment of the EPRDF the “renewal” became a full-scale attempt to
cleanse the organization and root out the allies of the dissidents and
those labelled as politically degenerate or decadent.
***
The crisis of 2001 is a watershed in the history of the TPLF and
changed the nature of the Front. The result was a shift in power from
Tigray to the central government in Addis Ababa, from the instru-
ments of the party to the state, and from a grouping of the TPLF
Central Committee to Meles.29 There has since been a marked decline
280
of collective leadership and an increasing dependence upon one leader:

Meles. In addition, the TPLF had lost leaders of great integrity and
experience in the party and army. Since then members have become
increasingly passive, opportunistic and no longer certain of their com-
mitment. There are now doubts about their willingness to endure the
kind of sacrifices that they had willingly suffered in the past to advance
the interests of the party. In the aftermath of the crisis the party and
state largely united under a single leadership, furthering Meles’ move
to assuming disproportionate power in the Ethiopian state. After
weakening the TPLF in the course of marginalizing his opponents,
Meles had increasingly become dependent upon his control of state
organs, of key elements of the TPLF, of his ANDM allies, and of a
small entourage. Thus in the last years of the Meles Zenawi adminis-
tration, the Front had to increasingly confront a crisis of legitimacy
and an ideological decline, resulting in the emergence of a minority
regime, relying on the prominence of a ruling security establishment.
Today the quest for a broader political power base and an overhauled
ideology continues.
Abebe Zegeye and Pausewang, Siegfried (eds), 1994, Ethiopia in Change:

Peasantry, Nationalism and Democracy, London: British Academic Press.
Aregawi Berhe, 2009, A Political History of the Tigray People’s Liberation
Front (1975–1991), Revolt, Ideology, and Mobilisation in Ethiopia, Los
Angeles: Tsehai Publishers
Bahru Zewde, 2014, The Quest for Socialist Utopia: The Ethiopian Student
Movement (1960–1974), Woodbridge, Suffolk: James Currey.
Balsvik, Randi R., 1985, Haile Selassie’s Students: The Intellectual and Social
Background to Revolution, 1952–1977, East Lansing, MI: African Studies
Centre, Michigan State University.
Hammond, Jenny, 1999, Fire from the Ashes: A Chronicle of the Revolution
in Tigray, Ethiopia, 1975–1991, Lawrenceville, NJ: The Red Sea Press.
Kahsay Berhe, 2005, Ethiopia: Democratization and Unity. The Role of the
Tigray’s People Liberation Front, Münster: Monsenstein und Vannerdat.
Medhane Tadesse, 1992, “EPRP versus TPLF, 1975–78: The Struggle for
Supremacy over Tigray,” MA thesis, History Department, Addis Ababa
University.
——— 1999, The Eritrean-Ethiopian War: Retrospect and Prospects, Addis
Ababa: Mega Enterprise.
Praeg, Bertus, 2006, Ethiopia and Political Renaissance in Africa, New York:
Nova Science.
281
Tesfatsion Medhanie, 1997, Eritrea & Neighbours in the ‘New World Order’:
Geopolitics, Democracy and ‘Islamic Fundamentalism’, Berlin: LIT Vlg.
Young, John, 1996, “The Tigray and Eritrean Peoples Liberation Fronts: A
History of Tensions and Pragmatism”, Journal of Modern African Studies,
34 (1), pp. 105–120.
——— 1997, Peasant Revolution in Ethiopia: the Tigray People’s Liberation
Front, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Young, John and Medhane Tadesse, 2003, “TPLF: Reform or Decline?”,
Review of African Political Economy, 30, 97, pp. 389–403.
282
11
FEDERALISM, REVOLUTIONARY DEMOCRACY

AND THE DEVELOPMENTAL STATE, 1991–2012
Sarah Vaughan
A revolutionary reform agenda?

In 1991 the incoming Transitional Government of Ethiopia (TGE) led
by the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF)
inherited a centralized, authoritarian state and the ruins of a command
economy from its military Marxist predecessor. The EPRDF, now a
coalition of four ethnically-defined organizations, came to power by
force of arms, emerging from the civil wars that had engulfed much of
northern Ethiopia and Eritrea, as well as the wider Horn area, for sev-
eral decades. Devastating conflict had centred upon control of the
state, for it was the state that had exercised a virtual monopoly over
access to resources and decision-making.1 Conflict had precipitated
enormous movements of refugee and displaced populations in and
around Ethiopia, and driven hundreds of thousands into service under
army conscription, or to take up arms against it.2
The new government publicly committed itself to three trajectories
of fundamental reform, set out in a “charter” or compact for govern-
283
ment adopted in July 1991, which, given the de facto separation of

Eritrea,3 would steer the remainder of the country through a transition.
These were: decentralization of the state, with the introduction of a
system of “ethnic” or “multinational” federalism; democratization of
its politics, under a multi-party electoral system; and liberalization of
the economy, in a neo-liberal international climate. Federal decentral-
ization, democratization, and socio-economic advancement were all
seen as mechanisms for the resolution of conflict and removal of its
deeply rooted causes. The EPRDF itself identified the extreme central-
ization of power under a “rentier state”, and its “ethnocratic” concen-
tration in the hands of an elite from a single ethnic group—at the
expense of the country’s other impoverished, oppressed, and exploited
populations—as the central root of Ethiopia’s modern political history
of war, famine, and underdevelopment. The federal solution the orga-
nization proposed was widely welcomed, despite anxieties about its
ethnic formulation. “Self-determination” was expected to mean an
expansion of popular access to decision-making and control over
resources, which would encompass the great majority of Ethiopia’s
agricultural and pastoral producers, democratize relations between
them, and release their potential for socio-economic development and
competitive politics.
More than two decades later, much has changed. Ethiopia’s econ-
omy is booming and sections of it have opened up significantly.
Federalism and woreda-level decentralization have had a profound
impact on the architecture of the state and the services it provides, par-
ticularly to the poor; and the country has taken exemplary strides to
reach Millennium Development Goals. Four rounds of federal, regional
and local elections have shaped the trajectory of the country’s politics
in key ways—many of them highly problematic. Nevertheless the con-
tinuities are also strong. The state continues to dominate, even monop-
olize, strategic sectors of an economy in which many in the private sec-
tor feel marginalized. The radical devolution offered by the federal
constitution still seems a long way off, and development continues to
be planned from on high. Most important of all, the EPRDF has con-
tinued to administer the overwhelming majority of the population in
the four large central regions throughout the period, with its allies or
affiliates governing in the peripheries almost as consistently, regardless
of a succession of challenges from opponents.
This is not what liberal democratic observers in 1991 expected or
hoped for, and over the last decade an alternative non-liberal narrative
284
FEDERALISM, DEMOCRACY AND DEVELOPMENT
has emerged to conceptualize these processes. Under the paradigm of

the Ethiopian “developmental state” processes of economic liberaliza-
tion, decentralization and even democratization are seen as centrally
managed, and desirably so. For members of the ruling party, the
EPRDF’s “vanguard leadership” of this state-driven process is essen-
tial to achieving socio-economic growth that is broadly inclusive, sus-
tainable, and not open to capture by wealthy elites or “rent-seekers”.
For its critics, this arrangement preserves intact the fundamental prob-
lem of twenty years previously: the extreme concentration of state
power in the hand of a leadership the legitimacy of whose rule they
question. This chapter traces some of the dynamics—and constraints—
of the three processes of decentralization, democratization and liberal-
ization4 since 1991, exploring these contradictions.
Federalism and decentralization: devolution of power

or deconcentration of responsibility
The federal architecture. The introduction of federalism involved
redrawing administrative and political boundaries, so as to carve up
the empire state into a series of federated units drawn around the
major ethnic or language groups constitutionally referred to in
Ethiopia as “nations, nationalities and peoples”.5 Ethiopia has more
than seventy recognized language groups, of vastly different popula-
tion sizes, and there is particular heterogeneity in the south-west of the
country. The 1991 Charter ascribed broad rights of “self-determina-
tion” to all of these groups: to preserve, promote, use, and develop
their own culture, history, and language; to administer their own
affairs in their own territories, and participate equitably in central gov-
ernment; and to secede from the arrangement if they felt their rights
had been denied or abrogated.
These principles underpinned both a transitional period of govern-
ment and the establishment of the Federal Democratic Republic
(FDRE) in 1995. The FDRE constitution formalized the division of the
country into nine federated National Regional States (kilils), “delim-
ited on the basis of settlement patterns, identity, language and the con-
sent of the people concerned” (Articles 46 and 47). The groups in
question are those “who have or share a large measure of a common
culture, or similar customs, mutual intelligibility of language, belief in
a common or related identities, and who predominantly inhabit an
285
identifiable contiguous territory” (Article 39). The nine States (Afar,

Amhara, Benishangul-Gumuz, Gambella, Harar, Oromiya, Somali,
SNNPRS/the Southern Nations, Nationalities and Peoples’ Regional
State, and Tigray) are asymmetrical on every social indicator, with vast
differences in population size, demographic distribution and profile,
developmental indices and resources. The SNNPRS (five separate kilils
in the initial 1992 configuration) constitutes a kind of “federation
within a federation”, made up of a series of ethnic administrative units
(zones and “special” woredas) encompassing 56 recognized groups.
Gambella, Benishangul Gumuz and Harar also retain administrative
mechanisms to accommodate ethnic diversity at the sub-regional level.6
Two large municipalities (the federal capital Addis Ababa, and Dire
Dawa in eastern Ethiopia) remain separately administered under the
Federal Government.
As a result of these arrangements, both constitutional provision and
legal, political, economic, and administrative order in contemporary
Ethiopia are based essentially upon ethnicity, upon the collective iden-
tities of Ethiopia’s nations, nationalities, and peoples. The system,
often referred to as “ethnic federalism”, is a highly unusual one, which
has been met with controversy both internationally and domestically.
In 1991, for instance, the reforms contrasted squarely with integration-
ist nation-building currents then reaching a peak in other parts of
Africa—most notably in Eritrea and South Africa, both of whose gov-
ernments publicly expressed concern about the Ethiopian experiment.
Given the contemporary disintegration of the former Yugoslavia, and
the collapse and fragmentation of neighbouring Somalia, many consid-
ered a process of “ethnicizing” politics in Ethiopia to be inexplicable,
irresponsible and dangerous. Ethiopia’s new leaders justified their rad-
ical initiatives as attempts to resolve the problems of the past, and
increasingly conceptualize Ethiopia’s nationalities in terms of their
shared histories of oppression, downplaying the more apparently “pri-
mordial” or intractable aspects of their collective profiles.7
The politicization of ethnicity. It is a widespread criticism that, in ush-

ering in ethnic federalism, the EPRDF has been responsible for intro-
ducing ethnicity into politics in Ethiopia. In fact the politicization of
ethnicity predates both the organization and its coming to power. The
nineteenth century expansion of the relatively homogeneous Abyssinian
polity to form the modern Ethiopian Empire state brought a swathe of
286
heterogeneous groups under an Amhara, or Amharicized, imperial rul-

ing class, which exercised a near monopoly of economic privilege and
social status, controlling land, exploiting production, and excluding
the majority of the population from government. The administrative
elite, to which many from other groups assimilated, practised a crude
form of cultural suppression and integration, establishing the Amharic
language and culture, and Orthodox Christianity, as passports to
power. The imperial state was founded on what has been called an
“explosive […] correlation of ethnic, cultural and class differences”
that made it inherently unstable.8 In order to stabilize it, the imperial
administration of Haile Selassie I was centralized, bureaucratized, and
militarized. The military was used to quell ethnic and regional upris-
ings in Bale, Eritrea, Gojjam, the Ogaden, Sidamo, and Tigray prov-
inces, until it finally overthrew the Emperor in 1974.
At this time, ethnicity became irreversibly politicized, with the fur-
ther expansion under the Derg of an imperial school system which had
educated, and rendered conscious, the elites of many of Ethiopia’s eth-
nic groups. Unlike its imperial predecessor, the military government
promoted the cultural emancipation of ethnic groups, established an
Institute for the Study of Ethiopian Nationalities, and introduced a lit-
eracy campaign in the major local languages. It refused, however, to
grant political rights to Ethiopia’s nationalities, and centralization was
entrenched with increasing brutality. This fanned the rise of organized
opposition in the form of the Eritrean nationalist EPLF and the ethno-
nationalist EPRDF and Oromo Liberation Front (OLF).
The EPRDF’s ideas about ethno-nationalism had been honed in
Tigray, where from 1975 its elder partner the Tigray People’s
Liberation Front (TPLF) fostered Tigrayan nationalist sentiment and
resistance, out of a popular sense of grievance at what they saw as the
region’s socio-economic and cultural neglect through the twentieth
century. Prior to the Italian colonization of Eritrea, and the southward
shift of power with the expansion of the Ethiopian empire state, the
northern Tigrigna-speaking areas had been at the centre of the
Abyssinian polity. The memory of this lost political status, and the re-
imagining of historical precedents of resistance, such as the so-called
weyane rebellion in Tigray in the wake of the defeat of Mussolini,
fuelled support for the TPLF.9 The Tigrayan nationalists used language
and historico-cultural symbols (the ancient stelae at Axum) to mark
their local commitments; but they also delivered relief and rehabilita-
287
tion assistance throughout the 1980s, and promised a rehabilitated and

reinvigorated Tigray, under autonomous government within a democ-
ratized Ethiopia.
By the time the EPRDF, EPLF and OLF finally defeated the regime
in 1991, a series of smaller ethno-nationalist movements, operating
amongst the Afar, Somali, Sidama, Anywaa and other populations,
was also ranged against the Derg. Ethnicity, then, was not introduced
into Ethiopian politics in 1991, but had been thoroughly politicized for
several decades. Whilst ethnic or multinational federalism has
undoubtedly rendered these identities newly and differently relevant to
political life, this has had complex and diverse results, about which
there is much debate.
The transitional period 1991–1995: empowering ethnicity. The

Transitional Government (TGE) appointed a Boundary Commission
to propose an “ethnic map” of the new political units; a proclamation
establishing them followed in January 1992. The visible involvement
of non-EPRDF organizations in the controversial project was a partic-
ularly important coup. Whatever the subsequent complaints of the
opposition, there were relatively few from the TGE who were not
implicated in the mapping. The spectrum of participants helped force
compromise and speed decisions, reining in the more ambitious claims
of powerful players, whilst deflecting and defusing conflict within the
group. The balance also lent a degree of transparency and legitimacy
to the outcome, which the TGE could claim was “thrashed out around
the table”. Plural and enthusiastic involvement veiled both the extent
to which the process was managed and the logical absurdity of “grant-
ing self-determination” to groups in parts of the country that had nei-
ther demanded nor fought for it.
In practice it was current language use that became the single effec-
tive criterion applied by the commission in drafting the map. This was
considered a more visible and conclusive indicator of ethnic boundar-
ies than, for instance, historical precedent. The TGE Commission was
dismissive of claims based on history, fearing their open-ended poten-
tial for dispute, and preferring to deal in currently verifiable demo-
graphics.10 Even this was not straightforward. The commission drew
on the work of the Derg’s Institute for the Study of Ethiopian
Nationalities, which in the 1980s had established that only around 30
out of 580 woredas were monolingual, and rejected language as a basis
288
for administrative division. In 1991 there was little argument within

the TGE about adopting the policy, only about its implementation.
Difficult issues were postponed (like the issue of Dire Dawa), side-
stepped, or siphoned off for separate negotiation by interested parties
(as in the case of Harar). The core of the work was finished within a
few months.
There was clear political rationale for haste. All ethno-national par-
ties in the TGE sought stability, the reduction of controversy, and the
rapid and peaceful demarcation of units of local government, which
each could then seek to colonize. By contrast, the subsequent periods
of dispute, debate, violent conflict and adjustment associated with
these boundaries have continued to be protracted and painful. If eth-
nic groups sought selected historical precedents for markers and mate-
rials with which to categorize and label their identities and stake out
their territories, the hasty administrative revisions of 1991 contributed
additional resources to complicate this process.
A Constitution Commission was appointed to draft a range of con-
stitutional proposals and questions for popular discussion, and subse-
quent debate and ratification by a Constituent Assembly elected in
1994. Two issues proved controversial during the constitutional
debates: the inclusion of a right of secession and the retention of land
in state ownership—both challenged then and since by the political
opposition. When the FDRE constitution was finally adopted, it was
premised on strong residual sovereignty for the regional governments,
tempered both by formal requirements to follow a framework of fed-
erally sanctioned policy directions (Chapter 10) and by the practical
importance of the flow of subsidies from the federal centre.
The first federal government, 1995: reining in ethnicity? During the

first federal government, there was an observable and orchestrated
move by the centre to claw back control over what some have
described as an “ethnic free-for-all” in the establishment of the feder-
ation. During the early 1990s, groups of all sizes, claims, and degrees
of credibility had been encouraged to organize and mobilize for self-
determination (Vaughan, 1994). Now, however, the federal govern-
ment started to push for the “efficient” reconsolidation of some zones,
regions, and political parties, particularly in the SNNPRS. In 1997, the

EPRDF’s parties were amalgamated, and a number of separate “non-

viable” zones—Kaffa and Sheka, Bench and Maji in the south-west for
289
example—were unceremoniously stuck back together: much to the dis-

gust of those in towns that lost jobs, construction, and budget control
to ethnic neighbours and competitors.
Separatist claims were either rejected or deferred through the 1990s,
including notably recalcitrant campaigns by the Silte and the Welaiyta.
The ruling party seems to have been taken aback at the enthusiasm
with which its own cadres were involved in spearheading local drives
for autonomy, responding to new and appealing local incentive struc-
tures. Opponents who had always feared that ethnic federalism would
lead to the balkanization of the Ethiopian empire state felt that the
government was, in this period, attempting something akin to repack-
ing Pandora’s box, in Eshetu Chole’s resonant image (1994). A clear
integrating impetus characterized federal policy, which refused to
countenance “fragmentation”. The centre’s hand was strengthened as
a resurgence of pan-Ethiopian nationalism greeted the outbreak of war
with Eritrea in May 1998.11
Also of concern as the war erupted was the poor quality of gover-
nance, with the corresponding instability, in the pastoralist periphery
of the state. Four regional states were struggling with federal self-gov-
ernment: the Muslim pastoral Afar and Somali areas to the east, and
the mixed areas of Benishangul-Gumuz and Gambella on the western
border with Sudan. These areas had been governed for a century by
envoys and civil servants from the centre. Corruption, embezzlement
and instability thrived as undereducated and inexperienced officials
applied the enticing resources attendant on abrupt political promotion
to communal or clan rivalries. Central interference to curtail the activ-
ities of more independent minded politicians at any sign of incipient
secessionism (as in the Somali kilil and Berta zone) often complicated
matters further. In 1997, teams of federal advisers were despatched by
the federal Prime Minister’s office, to provide the so-called “emergent
states” with professional and technical “‘support”. When it emerged
that the supportive role encompassed investigation of funds given to
the kilils in federal budget subsidies, and control of political matters,
tensions rose. The progress of the war with Eritrea saw the grip of the
federal government and National Defence Forces (ENDF) tighten on
these regions as governance issues gave way to concern for the security
of state borders.
Second wave decentralization from 2002: building the woreda. A sec-

ond federal government was elected in May 2000 amidst high drama
290
on the battlefields along the northern border with Eritrea. A major

shake-up within the leadership of the ruling party in 2001 (further dis-
cussed below) ushered in a “second wave” of decentralization under
federalism, shifting its focus from the (usually ethnically defined) kilil
or zone to the (usually demographically defined) woreda or district.
The devolution of budgeting, expenditure and accounting to woredas
had been a stated objective of government decentralization for much
of the previous decade, but was introduced abruptly in 2002. Since
then, woreda “block grants” have been provided according to region-
ally designed subsidy formulae, involving a range of per capita and
unit cost related calculations. These have gradually evolved over the
last decade to favour unit costs of service provision, a formula pio-
neered in the SNNPRS. In combination with the expansion of nation-

ally devised development “packages”, a uniform national approach to

woreda-focused service delivery has furthered the perception of this
second phase of the consolidation of the federal state as one of “cen-
tralised decentralisation”. Close analysis of local political activity pres-
ents a mixed and contradictory picture.12
The scope for woreda-level decentralization was initially greeted
with much scepticism, primarily regarding woredas’ capacity for the
administration of funds. Reform was pushed through remarkably
quickly in the four large regions, with strong investment of political
capital and international aid.13 Capacity building became the watch-
word from 2002, when a new federal super-ministry was established
to spearhead it, and the number of civil servants assigned at woreda
level grew from around 150,000 in 2002 to more than 400,000 at the
end of the decade. These systems of local government were established
more quickly in the densely populated highland agricultural areas
administered by the EPRDF than in the lowland periphery, where
woreda structures still barely existed. In 2002 the two-speed evolution
of the federation was formally acknowledged with the establishment
of the Ministry of Federal Affairs, given explicit responsibilities in rela-
tion to the four weaker states on the periphery.
Early beneficiaries of change during the period of reform and
“renewal” in the early 2000s were the Welaiyta, Silte, and Sheka eth-
nic groups which were finally granted their own administrative units,
in a move that served to encourage a fresh spate of claims. In March
2002, also in the southwest, a militant Sheko-Majengir movement
sought to wrest its own territory by force, and the ensuing violence
291
claimed many lives. An investigation implicated local administrators

and police in reprisal killings, and a number were brought to court.
Two months later, several protestors were killed when police used live
ammunition to disperse a demonstration against changes to the rela-
tions between the southern capital city of Awassa and the surrounding
Sidama zone. Sidama separatism has rumbled on, coming to a head in
2005, when a long-standing impetus for a distinct Sidama kilil was
fuelled not least by incautious promises made by local EPRDF cadres
in the context of stiff electoral competition. The ethno-nationalist
demand subsided with the appointment of a Sidama to the SNNPRS
presidency, and a personal appeal from the Prime Minister not to
destabilize the federation: presumably deferred rather than resolved, in
view of the strongly held feelings in play.14
A recalcitrant periphery: conflict and federal intervention. The control

of territory remains a particularly intractable area of conflict where
communities are mobile. Thus long-standing disputes between Afar and
Somali pastoralists over rights to grazing, water, and control of the land
over which they migrate with their herds have caused border disputes
between their two kilils. Conflict sporadically affected traffic on the
road to the port of Djibouti, bringing down the wrath of the federal
government. In October 2004 the federal government supported refer-
enda designed to resolve similar disputes between Somali and Oromo
communities and their respective regional governments. Local gerry-
mandering (in this case often shifting voters rather than boundaries)
meant that the process was only marginally successful in resolving con-
flict, and problems have continued in several parts of that border.
From December 2003, the federal government also turned its atten-
tion to conflict between Anywaa, Nuer, and highland communities in
the western border region of Gambella, invoking emergency powers of
intervention. In 1991, following the close association between the pas-
toralist Nuer and the Sudan People’s Liberation Front, which had been
supported by the Derg, the Anywaa benefited from the change of gov-
ernment, winning political control of the regional state in which they
claimed to be the largest indigenous group. The 1994 census indicated
otherwise and heavy-handed Nuer attempts to bring about a more
equitable balance of power raised alarm amongst the Anywaa. The sit-
uation was complicated by the presence of large numbers of refugees
from conflict in the Sudan, often Nuer and other populations encam
292
ped on land traditionally regarded by the Anywaa as their own. An

additional factor was the high educational, economic, and employment
status of many highlanders relative to the indigenous communities they
lived amongst, and escalating tension saw a series of attacks. One such
triggered reprisal killings in Gambella town, manifold conflict, and the
involvement of the federal army, which drove thousands of Anywaa
across the border into Sudan, and exposed the extent of inter-commu-
nal tension that had been allowed to brew under the surface of the fed-
eral dispensation.
Sporadic conflict has continued in Gambella. As with other conflicts
in border areas, the government has since the early 2000s blamed its
escalation on Eritrean support (finance, logistics and training) for
armed opponents. Much more serious has been the conflict in the
Ogaden. Much of the Ogaden National Liberation Front (ONLF) with-
drew from the TGE and returned to armed struggle in 1993, when a
vote on regional secession was thwarted. Between 2004 and 2006 it
grew to a fighting force of several thousand, with regional and cross-
border support from areas of Somalia controlled by the Islamic Courts
Union. It carried out a lethal attack on a Chinese oil exploration camp
at Abole in April 2007 to draw the attention of a government distracted
by post-electoral domestic politics and Islamist threats from Somalia.
The military crackdown in the region between 2007 and 2009 drew
international criticism. Latterly the ENDF has been replaced in the
region with a local ethnic-Somali “special” police force, regarding
which concerns have grown again about human rights violations.
Although its counter-insurgency clearly weakened the ONLF, the gov-
ernment has not capitalized on a series of 2010 peace deals with
Ogaden nationalist and Islamic factions to strike a comprehensive
agreement to end the conflict. Poor security in parts of the Somali
Region does not threaten the regime, but it wrecks lives and livelihoods,
undermining whatever promise federalism might have held there.
The federal arrangement in Ethiopia has provided a new framework
within which to accommodate ethnic diversity. It has not eliminated
conflict, but has for the most part succeeded in reducing and diluting
it and diverting it away from the state centre. In something of a social
revolution it has broadened the access to state jobs, budgets and edu-
cation which the majority of the country’s social and language groups
enjoy, whilst also fostering incentives for local politicians to make
instrumental and often divisive appeals to ethnic emotion as well as
293
national interest: something the regime decries as “narrow national-

ism”. Many communities have now strongly invested in the federal
arrangement, and it is hard to see it either reversed or fundamentally
revised without resistance. The day-to-day operational strength of the
federal arrangement remains obscured by the fact that the EPRDF and
its allies have administered all levels of government, so that many
aspects of constitutional and inter-governmental relations remain
opaque or untested in practice. This single party dominance leaves
open two significant issues. First, whilst ethnic and social access has
broadened under federalism, political access has not been similarly plu-
ral; rather it is increasingly comprehensively mediated through ruling
party membership. Secondly, the federal project has not secured a full
national consensus, and remains divisive and contested, a problem
magnified by loud diaspora objections.
Revolutionary democracy and multi-partyism

The reform of the Ethiopian political system under a series of ostensi-
bly liberal institutions was designed to create an elected, representative,
and plural legislature, an independent judiciary, and an accountable
executive. The Derg’s authoritarian one-party state of the immediate
past was a “ghost at the feast” as the parties met to consider the future,
and the need for political and economic transformation was clear to
all. The early 1990s climate of political conditionality for aid and the
demise of the Soviet donor bloc meant that some form of “liberal
democracy” seemed to emerge as the only viable option. A series of
charter, constitutional, and legislative provisions for multi-party com-
petitive politics, based on regular elections to a multi-level parliamen-
tary system, was quickly put in place.
The national consensus that the EPRDF sought to form behind the
federal project ran into opposition from both ends of the domestic
political spectrum. Pan-Ethiopian nationalists, many resistant to the
secession of Eritrea, opposed in principle what they expected would be
the dismemberment or fragmentation of the country under ethnic fed-
eralism. EPRDF policy-making gave emphasis to rural peasant commu-
nities, and such concerns were raised particularly amongst urban,
multi-ethnic and educated groups, who felt their interests marginal-
ized. A number of opposition political organizations represent this con-
stituency, led by the Ethiopian Democratic Party (EDP) which came to
294
prominence in 2000, by the Coalition for Democracy Unity (CUD,

later the UDJ) which emerged in 2004 to significant success in the
2005 poll, and most recently by Medrek, which united a number of
these parties in the run up to the 2010 poll. Whilst the EPRDF belat-
edly turned its attention to recruiting support and members from
amongst educated and intellectual groups after 2001, opposition to it
remains strongest in urban areas.
Meanwhile, an increasing number of the ethno-nationalist leaders of
Ethiopia’s various communities, who had enthusiastically endorsed the
introduction of federalism in 1991, complained that in practice the
concessions granted proved shallow, with power remaining tightly
controlled at the centre. They included the Southern Ethiopian People’s
Democratic Coalition (SEPDC), active particularly in Hadiya and
Kambatta but increasingly across the SNNPRS, and the relatively small
Oromo National Congress (ONC), both of which joined Medrek in an
unprecedented show of unity with the pan-Ethiopianists. Both groups
of critics have their diaspora-based counterparts which operate outside
the legal electoral framework of the country, many committed to
armed opposition. They include the pan-Ethiopian People’s Patriotic
Front (EPPF) and Ginbot 7,15 and the ethno-nationalist Oromo,
Sidama, and Ogaden National Liberation Fronts (OLF, SLM, and
ONLF), many of which date back to the 1970s when they were active
against the Derg. Strong diaspora support for both wings of opposition
was boosted in the wake of the 2005 elections.
In 1991, legislating to provide for the core principles of reform pro-
vided the first tasks of the new parliament. Seats allocated in the TGE’s
new legislature, the Council of Representatives, reflected the political
balance of power at the time, along with an attempt at a relatively
comprehensive ethnic representation. EPRDF parties retained a sub-
stantial majority, alongside representatives of other ethnically based
liberation movements that had opposed the previous regime, a raft of
newly-established parties representing the smaller ethnic groups, and a
number of new and older pan-Ethiopianist groups (although several
long-standing Ethiopian nationalist groups were excluded). The parlia-
ment elected the EPRDF chairman, Meles Zenawi, as Head of Govern
ment, and ratified a selection of ministers reflecting the hierarchy of
influence across the spectrum of political organizations represented. A
National Election Board was set up in 1991, legislation was drafted for
the conduct of federal, kilil and woreda elections, and the first polls
were held in June 1992.
295
Magnanimity or managed exclusion? The Transitional Period, 1991–

1995. At the beginning of the transitional period, observers were
pleased both with the liberal democratic nature of the political reforms
undertaken by the TGE and with the surprisingly inclusive manner in
which they were being implemented by the coalition government.
Those middle-class and “intellectual” members of ethnic groups, par-
ticularly from the south, whom the EPRDF had encouraged to form
their own parties and join the TGE in senior positions spoke of the
“magnanimity of the EPRDF” which, despite its decisive military vic-
tory, seemed to have committed itself to sharing power. Many took the
coalition at face value, and assumed that they were being offered a per-
manent place at the table, representing rural constituents amongst
whom they had done little to mobilize political support or establish
party political organizational infrastructure. They thought of the
EPRDF as a northern party (operating in Amhara and Tigray, and
some parts of Oromiya only), and saw themselves as taking over a
complementary role in the south, and on the peripheries.
It was only in the run-up to the first kilil and woreda elections in
mid-1992 that it became clear that the EPRDF did not intend to leave
the rest of the country to its opposition colleagues in the TGE. Despite

objections from the OLF, it had been agreed that the EPRDF forces
would operate as a national army for the duration of the TGE. The
EPRDF had made careful preparation for the organization’s swift

move into the south, with a caucus of several hundred cadres from
southern ethnic groups separately organized, mobilized, and trained
well before the fall of the Derg. They were positioned to move quickly
into their home areas as the government forces collapsed, to talk to
elders and opinion-formers in their own groups. During the summer
months of 1991 they fanned out across the south of the country into
areas where they had not previously operated, often spearheaded by
small numbers of specially-trained fighters originally from each local
area in the south, who as Derg soldiers in the 1980s had been taken
prisoner by the EPRDF, and had subsequently joined the movement.
They quickly established local “peace and stability committees” from
amongst local people. From the beginning, the EPRDF’s strategy of
political mobilization began a process of elision of party and state,
simultaneously selecting proto-administrators in the process of promul-
gating the party’s ideology and seeking to recruit members. The same
people were targeted for both, and the training they received for both
296
purposes was a political and ideological one given by the party. The
seamless consolidation and expansion of both party and administration
continued unconstrained and at breakneck speed throughout the south
under the TGE banner of “peace and stability”. Thousands of young
recruits went through EPRDF’s Tatek political training centre in 1991
and 1992, mostly drawn from Oromiya and the SNNPRS, though also
from the pastoralist peripheries. Meanwhile, those who had been mem-
bers of the Workers’ Party of the former regime were excluded from
government office, and a campaign to track down and arrest senior
cadres suspected of involvement in Red Terror and War Crimes galva-
nized communities and detained several thousand people.
As these EPRDF activities began to run up against rival campaigns,
tension mounted. The first instances of this were in Oromiya, where
the OLF, and other Oromo opposition groups, were seasoned and
determined competitors. The OLF nursed bitter memories of military
and political collaboration with the TPLF in the early 1980s, and had
been infuriated by the EPRDF’s establishment of its own Oromo orga-
nization, the Oromo People’s Democratic Organization, OPDO, in
1989/90. Violent clashes between the armed forces of the two move-
ments escalated as a first round of elections approached. On the eve of
the polls the OLF withdrew from the government, announcing its
inability to work with the EPRDF and a decision to return to armed
opposition. Civil war, which for several days threatened to engulf the
country, failed to materialize. After three weeks the immediate military
threat posed by the OLF had been effectively defeated, and 30,000 of
its fighters taken prisoner in re-education camps.
As other non-EPRDF members of the government began to consider
their positions, elections were held, and the EPRDF took control of
local government across the four core regional states of Amhara,
Oromiya, SNNPRS and Tigray. Realizing that, with federal elections,
their influence and positions in government would vanish, other non-
EPRDF members of the TGE began to protest against the non-level
playing field, and several withdrew. Some joined forces with a dias-
pora-based opposition bloc, which had been excluded from the begin-
ning. They began calling for a process of “national reconciliation”
which would start the process of state constitution anew, incorporat-
ing those increasing numbers of actors who now operated outside the
legal framework. Such attempts to undermine the legitimacy of their
energetic reform process were anathema to the EPRDF, and the rump
TGE moved harshly to expel from parliament and detain members
297
who had been involved in “illegal” negotiations with armed oppo-

nents. Positions polarized. The remaining opposition parties were torn
between risking all by withdrawing from the elections of 1994 and
1995 and lending a veneer of multi-party legitimacy to a process they
now saw as vitiated, by continuing to participate in it. It is a quandary
they have confronted ever since.
As TGE pluralism dissolved, observers questioned the capacity of the
EPRDF to work in coalition with other political parties. By the end of
the transitional period, the TGE no longer looked like the magnani-
mous mechanism for power-sharing some had envisaged. It had, how-
ever, served a number of ruling party purposes well, and the strategy
is worth reflecting on in retrospect. First, it secured the support of rep-
resentatives from communities all over the country, including all the
major armed liberation movements, for the controversial new state
structure of ethnic federalism. Secondly, the TGE won for the EPRDF
a period of grace during which the new arrangement could be viewed
by almost all sides (and especially the international community) as
marking a distinct ideological break with the past, introducing plural-
ism, multi-partyism, inclusivity, and apparently “liberal” democracy.
Finally, it won for the EPRDF an essential breathing space within
which it was able to establish and activate an infrastructure for politi-
cal mobilization in those core areas of the south of the country where
it had not previously operated. Thus the transitional period, with the
involvement and even, initially, approval of many outside the party,
and with relatively limited visible recourse to violence, achieved the
formula which has become entrenched over the subsequent decade: a
highland core administered by EPRDF parties, with a lowland periph-
ery administered by EPRDF affiliates or associates.
The trajectory of the transitional period from 1991 to 1995 illus-
trates the difficulties of contemporary assessment of who gains what
from changes to Ethiopia’s political arrangements. At the outset of the
TGE era it seemed to most observers and participants that the many
small ethnic parties and liberation movements that became partners in
government had gained very considerably. By the end of the period,
however, it emerged starkly that it was the ruling party, the EPRDF,
that had gained greatly from the legitimating collaboration of these
other groups in its reconstitution of the state.
Consolidation of power: the first federal government, 1995–2000. The

first federal government came to power in a flurry of ruling party opti-
298
mism. A poor harvest in 1994 was followed by three years of good

crops, and over-heated talk of sustainable food self-sufficiency. The
economy was further buoyed by high international coffee prices.
Regional governments were now relatively well established in most
areas. Whilst they enjoyed extensive powers on paper, regional states’
inability to raise significant revenue left them heavily dependent on
subsidies from the centre. Significant numbers of civil service jobs had
been decentralized from the federal capital, or newly created in the
regions. This won the enthusiastic support of young professionals from
the various ethnic groups where local administration had been estab-
lished. Many benefited from a dramatic expansion of local employ-
ment and education opportunities as the federal structure became
entrenched, creating something of a social revolution.
Less enthusiastic, meanwhile, were more established civil servants,
with family commitments in the capital, who saw public sector oppor-
tunities in Addis Ababa contract. Many moved into the expanding pri-
vate, voluntary and international sectors, establishing private busi-
nesses and local NGOs. The capacity of the civil service, particularly
in the federal capital, has continued to be affected by heavy losses of
skilled professionals, attracted by the significantly higher salaries avail-
able outside the public sector. The outbreak of war with Eritrea
brought complaints about the squandering of the “peace dividend”,
and renewed criticism of the Eritrean secession process; national mobi-
lization, meanwhile, saw an unprecedented degree of patriotic unity.
The new federal and regional governments were regarded with
resentment by the political opposition that had been comprehensively
outmanoeuvred during the transitional period. Officers of a number of
parties were harassed or imprisoned, including notably the chairman
of the All Amhara People’s Organization, who died soon after his
release from a lengthy period of detention. The OLF continued spo-
radic guerrilla attacks, alongside a series of bombings in 1996 co-ordi-
nated from southern Somalia. Ongoing Western diplomatic efforts to
reconcile the OLF and the EPRDF ran into the sand in 1998 when a
new generation of OLF leaders rejected federalism in favour of the
struggle for an independent Oromo state, and allied with Asmara.
International human rights monitoring organizations, meanwhile, pro-
tested at the large numbers of political opponents, particularly Oromos,
kept in official and—allegedly—also unofficial detention.
Opposition came also from a series of professional associations of
teachers, trades unions, and journalists. The Teachers’ Association
299
(ETA) opposed the government’s policy of encouraging primary edu-

cation in local languages. In response, the government dismissed or
detained the ETA’s key members, including its chairman, who was
arrested in 1996 and eventually released in May 2002. Another lead-
ing ETA member was shot and killed by police in May 1997, provok-
ing a storm of protest. The Confederation of Ethiopian Trades Unions
(CETU), meanwhile, also came under government pressure when it
criticized privatization and restructuring initiatives.
Criticism of the government was often channelled through the pri-
vate press. From 1974 until 1991, all media of communication in
Ethiopia had been state owned. When a legislative framework to pro-
vide for the “freedom of the press” was introduced in 1992, weekly
and monthly newspapers and magazines mushroomed overnight,
many staffed by experienced former journalists of the Derg’s media
outlets who had been dismissed. The new publications were almost
unanimously hostile to the new regime, and a climate of mutual antip-
athy resulted. Inexperience, political passion, and a culture of politi-
cal exclusion led to exaggeration and misinformation, and gave the
government excuses to crack down with fines, imprisonment of edi-
tors, and closure of newspapers, on the all too familiar charges of
“dissemination of false information”, “inciting racial hatred” or
“damaging the national interest”. During the 1990s, most private
papers became the subject of legal proceedings for a range of alleged
transgressions, large and small. At best, such cases drained the finan-
cial and human resources of the private press; at worst, they resulted
in the imprisonment and bankruptcy of independent journalists and
proprietors. From a peak of 128 publications registered in 1994, by
2000 only a few dozen remained.
Renewal and challenge: the second federal government, 2000–

2005. International concern about federal elections in 2000 and
regional and local elections in 2001 was relatively muted, with much
greater focus on the impact of the ongoing war with Eritrea. Never
theless, a number of key studies documented “shattered promises and
hopes” and declared “democracy unfulfilled”.16 Analysis suggested
that the operation of the political system in much of the country made
it almost impossible for opposition parties to use the democratic insti-
tutions effectively to challenge the dominance of the ruling party. A
range of tactics commonly disadvantaging the opposition prior to and
300
during elections was documented: closure of their offices, harassment

and arrest of candidates, refusal of some of their signatures of endorse-
ment, last minute shifts in the regulations regarding the number of can-
didates to be fielded, suspension of candidates spuriously claimed to be
“under police investigation”, and so on.
These problems affected federal, regional and local elections. In local
polls, electoral regulations made it difficult for smaller opposition par-
ties to succeed. At woreda and kebele levels, for instance, it was in 2001
already necessary to field between 60 and 100 candidates in order for
an organization’s participation to be considered legal. Further reforms
in 2007/8 raised the bar still further, increasing the required numbers
of members of local parliamentary bodies, particularly at kebele level.
This worked against independent candidates and small emergent
groups. It also meant that local elections were about party support
more than the merit of individuals as constituency representatives. As a
result, the political system in Ethiopia began to be described as single-
party dominant. In 2000, for instance, out of the 547 seats in the House
of Peoples Representatives, the EPRDF held 481, or 88 per cent.
The opposition parties remained extremely weak in terms of size,
organizational capacity, and material and human resources. Whilst
most have agreed on their commitment to the private ownership of
land, there has been much less common ground on federalism between
ethnically-based and pan-Ethiopian organizations. Lack of agreement
on this fundamental issue made it extremely difficult for the opposition
to work collaboratively, and numerous attempts since 1991 to establish
a coalition of forces foundered. Disturbances in and around the Addis
Ababa University (AAU) campus in April 2001 may have marked the
beginning of a chain of events that saw the weakness and lack of cohe-
sion of the opposition start to shift. They resulted in the imprisonment
of two senior AAU academics, who emerged in 2003 as driving forces
behind the pan-Ethiopianist Coalition for Unity and Democracy (CUD),
which fought the 2005 election with such unexpected success.
Apart from electoral issues, and continuing political polarization,
the early years of the second federal government were overshadowed
by the Ethio-Eritrean war and settlements signed at Algiers in June and
December 2000, which seemed largely favourable to Ethiopia. An
internationally sanctioned Boundary Commission held its first meeting
in May 2001, and published its decisions on delimitation in April
2002. These placed the iconic town of Badme inside Eritrea, a decision
301
at variance with the balance of power on the ground, which presented

the Ethiopian government with a problem. It had already been criti-
cized domestically for making too many concessions to Eritrea. To
accept the loss of Badme, where the war started, and for which tens of
thousands of Ethiopian soldiers had died, was politically impossible.
The Ethiopian government, while continuing to claim it accepted the
Boundary Commission’s decisions, made clear its dissatisfaction with
the details.
Even before the controversial ruling, Ethiopia’s decision to co-oper-
ate with a negotiated process, instead of simply pressing the military
advantage it held in May 2000, had catalyzed a division amongst the
leaders of the EPRDF. In March 2001 a faction within the TPLF cen-

tral committee attempted to win wider EPRDF and military support

for a move against the Prime Minister. Disagreement over the handling
of relations with Eritrea provided a trigger for the breakdown of rela-
tions, as well as a temptingly emotive vehicle for what became known
as the “dissident” faction to try to garner support. A more likely cause
of the split was a power struggle, between the leaders of two groups
whose day-to-day interaction was no longer close enough to overcome
diverging expectations and goals. The dissidents were rapidly outma-
noeuvred, leaving significant bitterness, particularly amongst veterans
and constituents in Tigray. A number of its protagonists remained in
prison on corruption-related charges for several years, and on their
release some joined the opposition political groups that now form part
of the Medrek umbrella.
In the wake of the 2001 division, the government moved quickly to
modernize, professionalize and bureaucratize the state, announcing new
emphasis on capacity building, education, and urban development.
Throughout the 1990s, the poor separation of party and state had
dogged the democratization process, with the party operating as a
mechanism of control and mobilization shadowing both government
and state at every level. This double power structure facilitated and pro-
vided the vehicle for the schism within the TPLF in 2001. Under the
rubric of a process of “renewal” its leaders now moved to curb the sep-
arate structures and activities of the ruling front, bringing many areas
of erstwhile party activity under the purview of several powerful new
ministries for rural development, federal affairs, and capacity building.
Intensive processes of state-building began to consolidate the bureau-
cratic and physical infrastructure for wereda-level decentralization, with
302
IT systems for integrated budget management, woreda-net and school-

net communication, and comprehensive business process re-engineering
across the civil service. Whilst those at the apex of the state also
retained their positions in the political leadership, with the two struc-
tures now effectively fused, further down the hierarchy the political
party as a distinctive structure seemed to have disappeared, replaced
with a highly politicized capacity building bureaucracy. In retrospect,
the implications of this arrangement for electioneering were profound.
The 2005 elections and after. In the run up to a third round of federal
and regional elections under the FDRE Constitution in May 2005, the
ruling party, apparently confident in the extent of public support it
commanded in the wake of internal reorganization and ideological
renewal, opened up the electoral campaign to a series of televised
multi-party debates. Several opposition groupings, and particularly the
CUD with its swiftly and covertly communicable two-finger “victory”
symbol, began to capture the mood, particularly in urban areas. Much
to the surprise of the EPRDF, the CUD (and to a lesser extent the
ethno-national opposition, especially the ONC, the SEPDC and the
newer Oromo Federalist Movement, OFDM) not only swept the polls
in Addis Ababa and a number of other ethnically mixed towns, but
also made strong inroads amongst significant rural peasant constituen-
cies, who normally were notoriously reluctant to vote against an
incumbent government.
Various reasons have been advanced for this success. The period of
the Ethiopian-Eritrean war (1998–2000) had been marked by an
upsurge in pan-Ethiopian nationalist rhetoric,17 which had brought a
return of official legitimacy to views not considered “politically cor-
rect” since the demise of the Derg. The EPRDF was seen as weakened
by the airing of internal grievances and high-level expulsions that
resulted from the 2001 TPLF split.18 As discussed above, the crisis saw
the independent capacity of the EPRDF party organs substantially cur-
tailed, with power consolidated in state structures in the period lead-
ing up to the 2005 elections.19 In some rural areas of the north, the
very fact of “sitting down with its enemies” to conduct televised
debates was seen as a sign of terminal weakness which boosted the
opposition vote.20
Rural Amhara and Gurage communities in particular responded
positively to pan-Ethiopian nationalist suggestions that ethnic federal-
303
ism threatened their interests in mobility and urban linkages. These

anxieties were shared by educated elites, and an explicit ERPDF change
of policy in 2002 to reverse its previous disregard of urban profession-
als came too late to address their grievances and merely gave them oxy-
gen: the demolition of a series of prominent Addis Ababa neighbour-
hoods at the time of the poll in preparation for road construction was
a physical manifestation of “too little too late”. The CUD seems to
have benefited from a strong protest vote against the incumbent gov-
ernment’s record. In many urban areas, this has been conceptualized
in terms of a preference for “civic” over “ethnic” nationalism.21 The
challenge was an existential one: not only to EPRDF rule, but also to
the very ethnic federal nature of the state. It left the notion of a
national consensus in tatters.
Violent dispute erupted over opposition claims to have won a
national victory, as well as control of the capital, and core CUD oppo-
sition MPs refused to take up their seats. Several tens of thousands,
mostly young urban men, were arrested, and protests in Addis Ababa
in June and November 2005 dissolved into violence and several hun-
dred deaths amidst mutual recriminations.22 The leadership of the
CUD was arrested alongside two NGO officials and a number of jour-
nalists, all charged and eventually found guilty of a series of “crimes
against the constitution”. Most were released and left the country only
after petitioning for pardon several years later, whilst the leader of the
successor UDJ was for some time subsequently rearrested, accused of
breaching pardon conditions.
It is easy to overestimate the impact of the 2005 poll on EPRDF
thinking: in fact the schism of 2001 seems to have had a much more
profound effect on the long-term evolution of the organization’s ide-
ological commitments and strategies. Nevertheless there was one
abrupt consequence of the EPRDF’s poor showing at the polls: its
immediate decision to reconstruct and reinvigorate the infrastructure
of the party on a massive scale. Within weeks of the polling senior
members of the organization were reassigned from state to party polit-
ical roles, and over the next three years, intensive campaigns in rural
and urban areas boosted membership to an alleged 6 million.23
Recognizing the weakness of its support amongst wealthier and more
highly educated groups, the party began to campaign in urban areas
and on university campuses, establishing formally affiliated youth
leagues alongside the reinvigorated mass associations, now set up as
304
“community based organizations”: formally divested but still strongly

supportive of party activity.
Attempts to build a new national consensus began with the Ethiopian
millennium celebrated in September 2007, which ushered in a new
government narrative of renaissance and the achievement of middle-
income status. For the first time, the Prime Minister surprised (and
pleased) many in his audience by speaking of the longer history of the
Ethiopian polity, over several thousand years back to Axum. A wave
of popular economic nationalism culminated with the sale of national
bonds to finance the Millennium Dam on the Nile towards the west-
ern border, construction of which began in 2011. Urban enthusiasm
has been tempered by high levels of inflation since 2008, driven by
global price hikes and rapid growth in domestic money supply to
finance expansion of the state’s investment programme, and more
recently by insecurity about legislation to tighten state control of urban
land leasing.
Dramatic new levels of investment in regional hydropower projects
and road infrastructure have often been concentrated in the lowland
peripheries, or on the edge of the escarpment. In combination with the
federal granting of large-scale land leases to those investing in commer-
cial agriculture in lowland areas with relatively sparse population, and
attempts at the widespread resettlement of pastoral or transhumant
farming populations, these massive infrastructure projects drew criti-
cism for their likely impact on marginal populations and environments.
The government reacted angrily, accusing international critics of dou-
ble standards, and redoubling its efforts to expand the combined
envelop of domestic investment by the state, FDI, and the subsidy for
local service delivery under an ambitious five-year programme for
Growth and Transformation (GTP), 2010–2015. Despite recent dis-
pute over growth figures, all agree that rates have been impressive for
the last ten years.
On the back of an intensive programme of local political mobiliza-
tion in rural areas, the ruling party swept the board in local elections
in 2008. The continuation of an assertive programme of local state
capacity building saw the appointment of a new cadre of kebele man-
agers, and the expansion of kebele representative council membership.
Both have been key to boosting the presence of the local state—to the
enhancement either of service delivery and accountability, or of polit-
ical control, depending on one’s political viewpoint: almost certainly
305
both. Critics point to three pieces of legislation—curbing the activities

of the media and civil society, and outlawing “terrorist” activities—
that most observers see as having constrained the activities of political
opponents, and “closed political space” (Abbink 2006). At least as
important, but much less analyzed, have been the intensive activities of
the reconstructed party in uniformly reoccupying the political land-
scape. In the run up to the 2010 election, it piloted a comprehensive
approach to the mobilization of the population for political as well as
developmental ends, and the melding of the twin objectives marks a
new phase in the ruling party’s dominance.
Ideology and control: liberalization and the developmental state

Whilst the architecture of federalism shapes the form of the state, the
political economy of contemporary Ethiopia is increasingly shaped by
the ruling party’s twin commitments to revolutionary democracy and
the developmental state. The latter first emerged in 2001, when the
party finally abandoned its commitment to socialism (long in abey-
ance, but never until then formally renounced) in favour of a managed
transition to “developmental capitalism” (lematawi habt). The devel-
opmental state project is premised on the belief that a government can
both be developmentally activist and also avoid the “socially wasteful
rent-seeking activities” associated with a dominant public sector
(Meles Zenawi, 2012): it explicitly rejects the notion that markets rep-
resent the ideal tool for boosting production and allocating surplus in
a transformatory developmental context. The EPRDF sees the devel-
opmental state system as achieving its legitimacy and hegemony from
the single-minded pursuit of broad-based, long-horizon development,
based on a “strong national consensus” broadly shared across the mass
of the population.24
Believing this to be in the interests of accelerated socio-economic
transformation for the majority of smallholder farmers, rather than the
wealthy elite, the government is keen to preserve what Rodrik has
called the “autonomy”25 of the developmental state from private sector
influence. It emphasizes the importance of government having the will
and the capacity to discipline market and private sector forces, both
domestic and international, which it sees as likely to threaten the integ-
rity and pro-poor orientation of policy making and the bureaucracy.
Critics have questioned the extent to which this “capacity and will”
306
exist in practice at federal level, let alone in kilil, woreda and kebele reg-
ulation. What Kelsall has called the “technocratic integrity” of the civil
service (2011) is open to question in terms both of the extent of corrup-
tion and of its willingness to “speak truth unto power”, this last being
consistently underdeveloped in Ethiopian political culture.26 The prob-
lem is arguably compounded by limitations to the scope of the national
consensus, which place the talents and energies of key educated groups
outside the national development project.
Despite a modicum of liberalization of the economy, and privatiza-
tion of state assets, implementation of the GTP thus remains over-
whelmingly state-led.27 Privatization has not been extended to infra-
structure or services where national security implications are in play,
and national security is broadly conceived. There is little evidence that
the role of state-owned companies has shrunk, with new military-
industrial enterprises expanding their activities. Party-affiliated endow-
ment conglomerates form a significant proportion of the private sec-
tor, alongside the large, diversified, and strongly integrated MIDROC
economic bloc. Expanding FDI has focused on commercial agricultural
ventures, including some controversial land-intensive initiatives in the
periphery, a number of which have reinforced concerns about the
autonomy, integrity, and capacity of state regulation. State develop-
mental and economic initiatives have been complemented by the activ-
ities of a range of politically allied institutions, including regional
NGOs and development associations, mass membership bodies, micro-
credit institutions, and co-operatives. The existence of this spectrum of
state and non-state socio-economic actors, all strongly aligned with the
government’s vision, gives the leadership very extensive leverage over
the development agenda. The developmental potential of an approach
that takes a long-horizon pro-poor perspective, and succeeds in cen-
tralizing rents and rendering the policy environment predictable, seems
clear. But its implementation by a civil service and political hierarchy
largely unconstrained by external checks and scrutiny, and subject only
to internal—often political—systems of evaluation and control, raises
concerns about probity, integrity and sustainability.28
Under the vanguard leadership of the EPRDF, the developmental
state is seen as being built on a direct “coalition with the people” (as
opposed to the indirect “coalitions” between politicians characteristic
of multi-party pluralism).29 This is an all-encompassing project, under
which the leadership seeks to unite state, party and population to form
307
a so-called “developmental army”, designed to mobilize communities

and contributions in support of the GTP and MDGs. Piloted in Tigray
in the run up to the 2010 elections, the strategy has since been adopted
in other rural agricultural areas, and works on the basis of a hierarchy
of “model” farmers, each followed by five “followers” who themselves
provide model leadership to five others. This comprehensive form of
mobilization also offers unique mechanisms for passing developmen-
tal and political messages right to the grassroots—and for evaluating
and controlling performance and commitment, again both develop-
mental and political. Similar initiatives have been mooted by kebeles
in urban centres in the recent period.
Unlike many other parts of Africa, Ethiopia has a ubiquitous state
presence which extends in much of the country to the local, even
household, level: as has been discussed above, these structures have
been strengthened in repeated phases of reform and capacity building
under federalism. Citizens are heavily reliant on the lowest level of
government, the kebele, for a wide range of services including identifi-
cation cards and access to land (which remains under state ownership)
and to water, education, health, and other services, as well as to food
security and welfare safety nets. The state enjoys a near-monopoly on
the distribution of resources and on decision-making in relation to ser-
vice delivery. In this context EPRDF ideology embraces a form of
“popular” or “revolutionary” rather than “liberal” democracy, in
which unified mass participation is valued over individually-oriented
pluralism. This has much in common with “proletarian democracy”,
apparently rooted in Leninist principles of organization that sought to
bring the mass of the population into unmediated involvement with the
activities of the state.30
Key to the EPRDF’s conception of popular consensus has been the
unified and mobilized participation of ethno-national communities.
Similarly its commitment to self-determination of nationalities incor-
porates the notion that a vanguard party may legitimately grant self-
determination to a community from above, in that process identifying
and prescribing the “objective” ethnic criteria to define the group and
demarcate administrative borders around it. Its approaches to “democ-
racy” and to the “national question” are thus intimately linked.
Inherent in the EPRDF‘s attachment to the idea of nationality-based
mobilization, along with the idea that it is morally better than other
forms (that is, that ethnic self-determination brings in democracy,
308
emancipation and non-discrimination for the first time in Ethiopia’s

history), is the idea that it works better—that people are more respon-
sive to political education and encouragement given to them in their
own languages by their own children.
Given these ideological perspectives on ethno-nationalism and
decentralization, democratic unity, and managed liberalization, then,
it is not surprising that the EPRDF has never appeared as an organiza-
tion committed to pluralism for its own sake, and has been resistant to
the emergence of parallel (competitor) systems of political patronage
or local resource delivery. A dominant view within the EPRDF is that
disagreements over policy and perspective should generate competition
rather than dialogue. This has contributed to a polarized political land-
scape, in which the ruling party has benefited little from the construc-
tive criticism of outsiders. A further corollary is that elections have
evolved as performative plebiscites designed to reinforce the national
consensus behind the ruling party. Government spokesmen claim that
revolutionary democracy will transform state-society relations,
empowering citizens to participate in developmental decision-making;
whether or not this is so, it has in the meantime entrenched the domi-
nance of a party-state unity apparently stronger than it was 20 years
ago, leaving little space for alternative voices.
For the future, the EPRDF promises to deliver an eventual transition
from revolutionary to liberal democracy, in a context where growth
and transformation have turned a majority of subsistence farmers into
a broadly based middle class, likely to provide sustainable constituen-
cies for plural political parties committed to representing their socio-
economic interests. It argues that an incremental and managed transi-
tion will do more for the long-term interests of the poor than the
competitive clientelism that has often resulted from “neo-liberal fun-
damentalism” elsewhere on the continent. Critics are unsurprisingly
sceptical about a path to “renaissance” and profound political change
that remains distant and ill defined. In the meantime, the interpretation
of patterns of continuity and change—decentralization, democratiza-
tion, and liberalization—is polarized and contested. Where most
observers agree is on the ongoing concentration of state power in the
hands of the ruling party—for good or ill.
309
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311
12
Elections and Politics in Ethiopia,

2005–2010
Patrick Gilkes
The May 2005 elections marked a significant change in Ethiopia’s polit-

ical history, being the country’s first genuinely contested elections.
Several opposition parties, despite expressing mistrust of the National
Electoral Board of Ethiopia (NEBE) and doubts about government
intentions, decided, under considerable international pressure, to partic-
ipate rather than boycott as in 1995 and 2000. In all, a total of 35 par-
ties contested the election, for both federal and regional assemblies.
The results, widely seen as the first real test of the EPRDF’s
expressed commitment to democracy, provided a considerable surprise
to both government and opposition alike. Neither had expected the
extraordinary enthusiasm with which people went to the polls, or the
results achieved. Overall, the EPRDF which had taken over 90 per cent
of seats in the 547-seat House of Representatives in 2000 won less
than 60 per cent (327 seats), while the opposition increased its repre-
sentation from 12 to an impressive 174 seats. Although the opposition
disputed the figures, they represented a major shift in Ethiopia’s polit-
313
ical landscape, and one not confined to the federal parliament. There
were similar changes in the regional councils. The largest opposition
party, the four-party Coalition for Unity and Democracy (CUD), took
all but one seat in the Addis Ababa council (as well as all of Addis
Ababa’s 23 seats in the Federal House of Representatives).1 It also
made substantial gains in the most important regional states, taking
106 seats (36 per cent) in the Amhara region, while the opposition as
a whole took 150 seats (27 per cent) in Oromiya and 77 seats (22 per
cent) in the Southern region.
The build-up to the election provided considerable political space for
the opposition, and for civil society, despite a number of clearly
expressed doubts about the impartiality of the proceedings, notably
about the make-up of the NEBE itself. The government took the initia-
tive to negotiate with the opposition and agreed to a number of elec-
toral reforms to create conditions for a more acceptable process: these
included changes in the electoral law to improve the registration pro-
cess; the establishment, by the NEBE, of joint political forums to
resolve problems; the creation of an NEBE website; guaranteed access
to the state-controlled media; a civic education programme by civil
society organizations; and a comprehensive code of conduct for the
EPRDF and other parties.
An unprecedented level of open debate characterized the electoral
campaign. The Public Forum, transmitted live for hours on both tele-
vision and radio, allowed a much wider audience to gain some idea of
party policies. The debates, sometimes aggressive, were avidly listened
to and played a major role in giving voters, particularly in rural areas,
an idea of the alternatives available and in encouraging voters’ partic-
ipation. The format, with EPRDF spokesmen presenting policy and
opposition party leaders free to criticize rather than forced to define
their own alternative programmes, favoured the opposition.
Despite the openness of these debates—welcomed by, among others,
the EU which described it as launching a “sea-change” in Ethiopia’s
democratic process—the opposition parties made allegations of sub-
stantial intimidation during the campaign including numerous arrests
and random killings. A Human Rights Watch report on the Oromo
region alleged that the extent of repression made the election a “hol-
low exercise”.2 The government called these charges baseless, but the
Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi, announced an investigation into alleged
human rights abuses in Oromiya in January 2006.
314
Elections and Politics in Ethiopia, 2005–2010
One major factor encouraging a more open election was the signifi-
cantly greater level of finance available to the opposition. The Donors’
Ambassador Group provided funding, through the UK Electoral
Reform International Services (ERIS), for opposition parties, indepen-
dent candidates and the NEBE. The diaspora was also a major source

of financial support. The All Ethiopia Unity Party, one of the main
components of the CUD, set up a committee to raise funds from the
diaspora in the US in 2003. It proved remarkably successful, obtaining
hundreds of thousands of dollars using American techniques including
plate dinners as well as direct donations. Others followed suit. Most of
the parties in the United Ethiopian Democratic Forces (UEDF), the
other main opposition coalition, were US-based, and much of its fund-
ing also came from the US.3 The result was that the opposition had a
much greater level of organization and impact, allowing it to campaign
in almost all constituencies.
The donors from the diaspora, not surprisingly, expected and
demanded some input into opposition policy. In the case of the CUD,
the diaspora subsequently played a major role in pressuring the CUD
to refuse to attend parliament when it opened in October. The decision
to refuse was taken against the wishes of a majority of the central com-
mittee in Addis Ababa, and led directly to splits in the CUD, the con-
frontations of early November and the arrest of the CUD leadership.
The decision of the UEDF leadership in Ethiopia to enter parliament,
in order to represent the constituents who had elected them, ran into
strong criticism from the diaspora. The leaders of the two main ele-
ments in the UEDF, Dr Merara Gudina of the ONC and Dr Beyene

Petros of the SEPDC, lost much of their funding as a result.

In the 1995 and 2000 elections the government had not invited inter-
national observers, arguing that it did not need any “outside interfer-
ence”. This time, after strong encouragement by the international com-
munity, invitations were sent to the African Union, the Carter Center
and the European Union, as well as other organizations and countries.
A total of just over 300 observers were supplied. Three American orga-
nizations were ordered out shortly before the election, apparently for
failing to register though the organizations concerned had a record of
participation in a number of controversial episodes, including recent
elections in Kyrgyzstan, Georgia and Ukraine. There were fewer local
observers than expected. They were effectively limited by a ruling of the
NEBE in April, though this was overturned by the courts in early
May—too late, however, to allow many to participate.
315
The official allocation of 54 per cent of state media time for opposi-
tion groups, with 46 per cent for the EPRDF, helped provide for a
more open campaign. Opposition coverage in terms of space however
exceeded this overall, with the UEDF getting 26 per cent of TV cover-
age, the CUD 23 per cent and others 10 per cent, compared with the
EPRDF’s 41 per cent. The Oromo and Amhara language broadcasts
were rather more balanced than those in Tigrinya. The state audiovi-
sual media largely presented the EPRDF in a favourable light and its
reporting of the opposition tended to be negative and to focus on its
complaints about the electoral process.4 In turn, the private Amharic
press largely supported the opposition, producing stories, in a number
of cases invented, to discredit the EPRDF. Several of the papers, includ-

ing three private English language papers, Capital, Fortune and

Reporter, had impressive election coverage.
The campaign was vigorous and outspoken. Observers criticized
both EPRDF and opposition for abusive language. The EPRDF claimed
the CUD was trying to spark off ethnic violence and organize a revo-
lution on the lines of those in Ukraine, Georgia or Kyrgyzstan. The
CUD alleged the government was intending to provoke violence in
order to stop an opposition victory.
A critical factor in the final vote was the mass rallies in Masqal
Square in Addis Ababa on 7 and 8 May, a week before the vote. The

first was organized by the EPRDF. Estimates of those attending ranged

from a quarter to three quarters of a million people. The next day,

opposition parties brought significantly larger numbers into the square.
The authority of the EPRDF government was severely dented. For the
first time people began to believe that the opposition could make a real
impact, and that they might be able to take control of Addis Ababa,
and even win elsewhere.
Polling day itself went off largely without incident with some 90 per
cent of registered voters turning out. The preliminary results indicated
significant gains for the opposition as a whole and for the CUD in par-
ticular. And indeed the CUD swept Addis Ababa, taking all the 23
national assembly seats as well as all but one of the Addis Ababa city
council’s 138 seats. Despite this, the EPRDF quickly claimed an over-
all majority, as almost immediately did the CUD. A leaked internal

European Union Election Monitoring Mission document suggesting

that the CUD had won an overall majority on the basis of partial
returns from Addis Ababa and the Amhara region, its main areas of
support, encouraged CUD claims.5
316
Prior to the vote and on polling day, the CUD had originally sug-
gested that the results would be entirely unacceptable because of what
it claimed were massive irregularities. When it became clear that it had
won overwhelmingly in Addis Ababa, it rapidly changed the focus of
its criticisms to areas where it did not win and had expected to do bet-
ter, notably the Amhara region. In fact, the CUD’s victory in Addis
Ababa was not totally unexpected as the city is a centre of internal
migration and had very high unemployment. The EPRDF had assumed
it would lose control of the city council, though it did not anticipate
complete loss of all seats.
After the vote, the EU Observation Mission claimed that the elec-
tions were being undermined by the delays, and criticized the NEBE
for slowness in counting votes and in the release of provisional results.
Official results were only announced on 9 August, when the NEBE

said that the EPRDF had won 296 seats. This figure rose to 327 after
polling in 31 constituencies was re-run in August. The final figures for
the opposition were: CUD 109; UEDF 52; Oromo Federal Democratic
Movement (OFDM) 11; others 2.
International observers noted the allegations of intimidation in spe-
cific regions, and of post-election manipulation of votes. This gained
some credence from the delays in the publication of the official results,
but there was little support for opposition claims that it had won the
election overall, or for the CUD’s claim that the election had been sto-
len and its demands that the NEBE investigate irregularities in nearly
300 seats.6
Little work has been done on the analysis of voting patterns, but
what there has been suggests that areas with Muslim majorities voted
for the EPRDF; that areas producing khat tended to vote for the oppo-
sition following increased government taxes over the previous couple
of years; that unemployment in urban areas favoured the opposition;
that opposition support fell in areas where the proportion of people on
food aid rose. While some results suggested voters believed that the
EPRDF alone could ensure continuation of aid, constituencies with
higher than average levels of fertilizer use tended to favour the oppo-
sition. This appears to contradict claims that voters were threatened
with withdrawal of fertilizer or the recall of fertilizer loans if they
voted for opposition parties. Claims that constituencies left out of
ERPDF patronage network voted for the opposition or that voting was
purely on an ethnic basis do not hold up.7 There was certainly some
317
protest voting but there were also significant levels of strategic voting.
There is no doubt that a considerable number of voters saw the elec-
tion in 2005 as a response to the EPRDF’s economic record. This inci-
dentally was even more obviously the case in 2010 when a central fac-
tor was again the failure of the opposition to offer serious alternative
economic policies. In 2010 there was widespread appreciation of con-
siderable economic growth over the previous five years, as well an
almost complete failure by the opposition to get its act together.
Almost immediately after the voting, and in defiance of a ban on
demonstrations, the CUD launched several public demonstrations.
Student protests in Addis Ababa University were followed by stone-
throwing demonstrations in the Mercato area. Security forces opened
fire killing some 40 demonstrators; there was a three-day city-wide
transport strike and several CUD leaders were briefly put under house
arrest. The EU managed to broker a pact of non-violence accepted
unequivocally by all parties. ERIS produced an agreement for investi-
gation of disputed seats, providing for a Complaints Review Board
that passed on 180 of the 300 complaints referred to it to Complaints
Investigation Panels (CIP). These were each made up of three people,
representing the NEBE, the complainant and the other party. There
was the option of a further appeal to the courts. The process, however,
appeared to favour the better-organized EPRDF rather than the oppo-
sition. Certainly, ERIS noted that the CUD proved unable to back up
a very considerable number of its original complaints. The EPRDF
gained 31 seats out of the process.
The CUD optimistically interpreted British government suspension
of a proposed increase in the UK’s budgetary support to Ethiopia as
support for its criticisms of the NEBE and the CIPs. It also interpreted
a highly critical preliminary EU election report as confirming its
claims.8 Certainly, some of the criticisms of the electoral process were
valid, and accepted by the government, but it considered that the over-
all tone of the report, and some of the comments, were both unprofes-
sional and partial, and that the mission had exceeded its mandate.
Other observer missions were more balanced in their views.
It was against this background that the two opposition coalitions
engaged in often highly public and acrimonious internal debates on
whether to join parliament when it opened on 11 October. The UEDF

argued for participation with the aim of building on its success in the
2008 local elections and providing a base for the next federal and
318
regional elections in 2010. It also made the point strongly that a boy-
cott would betray those who had elected members to participate in the
parliament. The leadership of the CUD, in particular the chairman,
Hailu Shawel, with strong support from the diaspora, backed a boy-
cott on grounds that the results were fraudulent and that the EPRDF
had no intention of allowing the opposition to play any realistic role
in parliament. This, the CUD suggested, was underlined by the changes
in parliamentary procedures requiring 51 per cent support to place
items on the agenda rather than the previous requirement of 20 MPs.
The CUD decision to boycott parliament, taken in fact against the
wishes of a majority of its own central committee, was one factor in
the split that developed in the CUD during October. Another was the
attempt to merge the four CUD parties into a single organization. The
EUDP-Medhin in particular saw this as an attempt by Hailu Shawel
and AEUP to take control of the CUD. The result of these manoeuvres

was the withdrawal of the EUDP-Medhin from the coalition.9

Parliament met on 11 October. With nearly all CUD members refus-

ing to take seats, though a majority changed their mind over the next
few weeks, the new EPRDF government promptly lifted parliamentary
immunity for those who boycotted the session. The CUD then
announced plans for a general strike, fuelling a long-standing govern-
ment fear that the CUD really intended to try for the sort of “orange
revolution” called for by some in the diaspora: mass popular demon-
strations to overwhelm the authorities, on the lines of events in Ukraine
or Georgia.
The evidence of any such organized effort remained small. However,
following the arrest of a number of CUD leaders in early November,
the post-June calm was broken with two days of riots and violence in
Addis Ababa in which seven policemen were killed and dozens injured,
and 193 civilians died and thousands were arrested.10 The US described
the riots as a “cynical, deliberate” attempt to cause violence, and called
on the opposition to refrain from inciting civil disobedience—though,
like the EU, it also deplored the use of excessive and lethal force, and
pressed the government for an inquiry into the deaths in the riots in
both June and November. Over the following two weeks there were
sporadic outbreaks of violence in a number of other towns, particu-
larly in schools and universities; these carried on into January. There
were a number of further deaths. Most of those detained in November
were released within a couple of weeks but the government continued
319
to hold the top CUD leaders, including ten CUD members of parlia-
ment. Others detained included a number of journalists and Ethiopian
representatives of international NGOs. In mid-December, 131 people
including a number of CUD leaders were formally charged with trea-
son, genocide and other related offences. The CUD leaders were sub-
sequently pardoned in 2007 at the time of the Ethiopian Millennium.
The CUD and the UEDF represented two very distinct strands of
opposition to the EPRDF, and although temporarily linked in an elec-
toral pact, they could never have collaborated for any length of time,
nor worked together in government. In addition, both were themselves
uneasy coalitions. The more successful element was the CUD which
brought together the main lines of Amhara nationalism, split in the
mid-1990s when the All Amhara Peoples Organization (AAPO) had
fractured, together with elements of the business community in Addis
Ababa, particularly among the Gurage, and the Amhara diaspora in
the United States, exiles from the present regime and from the previous
military dictatorship of Colonel Mengistu. The catalyst was a new
party, Kestedamena (Rainbow), headed by two intellectuals,
Dr Berhanu Nega and Professor Mesfin Wolde Mariam, which aimed

to produce a more wide-ranging and organized opposition to the

EPRDF, and an alternative to the UEDF. It was able to call on exten-

sive dissatisfaction with the EPRDF, especially in Addis Ababa and

other urban areas, and the widespread feeling that fourteen years of
EPRDF rule had failed to produce sufficient alleviation of poverty, or
jobs for the substantial numbers of unemployed in Addis Ababa. The
CUD also gained from its criticisms of EPRDF policies towards Eritrea
and its insistence that Ethiopia should, at the very least, have the use
of the port of Assab. It made much of the “failure” of the government
to take and hold Assab in 2000 following Ethiopia’s success in the war
that followed Eritrea’s attack in 1998.
Formal ideological differences between CUD members, while impor-
tant, remained less significant than the fact that the two main parties
in the coalition, the AEUP and EUDP-Medhin, despite their claims to
multi-nationalism, were in strong competition for Amhara support.
The AEUP was the more successful in obtaining diaspora support and
finance; the EUDP-Medhin, itself an amalgam of four parties, and
largely representing a younger electorate, took 14 out of 23 National
Assembly seats won by the CUD in Addis Ababa, while the AEUP won
only four. The EUPD-Medhin also did significantly better in the Addis
320
Ababa city council, taking nearly two-thirds of the seats. Not surpris-
ingly it resented the AEUP’s subsequent efforts to take control of the
CUD. With its younger support base, the EUDP-Medhin was also less

influenced by the diaspora whose mixture of financial pressure and

threats played a major role in discouraging AEUP and Rainbow lead-
ers from entering parliament. Following the arrest of most leading fig-
ures in the AEUP and Rainbow in early November, EUDP-Medhin
MPs began to trickle into parliament. Many of those from the AEUP
and Rainbow gradually followed suit. By the beginning of 2006 at
least 90 out of 109 CUD MPs had taken their seats. No opposition
party, however, was able, or prepared, to muster a quorum to take up
the administration of Addis Ababa.
The other main strand of opposition, the United Democratic
Ethiopian Forces, included most of the other nationalities in Ethiopia
in its ranks. The leading elements were the Southern Ethiopian Peoples
Democratic Coalition, SEPDC, chaired by Dr Beyene Petros, itself a

coalition of 14 small nationality parties, and the Oromo National

Congress, ONC, chaired by Dr Merara Gudina. It was set up in

Washington in 2003 as a broad-based coalition to fight the 2005 elec-

tions and originally included both the AEUP and the EUDP. Ideological

and personal differences led to these two groups rejecting the leader-
ship of Dr Beyene and Dr Merara and walking out after a few months.

The UEDF and the CUD did make an electoral pact to fight the 2005
election, but their major policy differences would have precluded any
long-term post-electoral links.
Central elements in CUD policy include suggested changes in the
Constitution to limit regional autonomy, remove ethnicity from the
federal status and replace the current regions by smaller structures, and
remove Article 39, the article that allows the right of a regional state
to secede. Another policy, favoured by many donors as a panacea to
solve poverty, was privatization of land. This was widely interpreted
as amounting to a return to the past, indeed to the structure of the
imperial regime, offering a vision of a single Amhara-speaking Ethiopian
polity. It was totally unacceptable to the UEDF’s concept of a plural-
ist state. It was also significantly at odds with the EPRDF’s own plu-
ralist vision allowing for certain levels of self-determination for
Ethiopia’s different nationalities. While the EPRDF has extended dem-
ocratic rights, if selectively, to those who agree with its methodology,
the CUD continued to project itself as the sole exponent of the concept
321
of “Ethiopia”, and its policies were widely perceived as aiming to

restore power to the Amhara. As such they were completely unaccept-
able to almost all other nationalities in the country, including those
represented in the UEDF and the OFDM, as well as those parties allied
to the EPRDF in the Afar, Somali, Benishangul-Gumuz and Gambella
regions.11 Together with the Tigreans, these amount to over 70 per
cent of the population. This is why the CUD itself could never have
won the election, despite the considerable support it received from the
widespread “protest vote” against the EPRDF in urban areas.
The failure of the government to bring those detained in November
to a speedy trial, and the violence of June and November, caused con-
cern among donors; but attempts to pressure the government into
releasing opposition leaders by dropping direct budget support had lit-
tle effect. Although donors made it clear they did not intend to cut aid,
it was clear that changes in delivery of aid would inevitably cause
financial problems in 2006, and they were much resented. Cancellation
of direct budget support had been an opposition demand and the tim-
ing of British announcements over aid in June 2005 and again in
January 2006 appeared to offer support to the opposition. Similarly,
the government felt donors made little effort to understand either the
aims of the opposition or its own intentions. The attempt to put pres-
sure on it stiffened the government’s resolve not to tolerate violent
opposition and to respond “appropriately”.
Local elections in 2008; federal and state elections in 2010

Opposition parties and the EPRDF responded very differently to the
electoral process and its aftermath in 2005. The CUD was effectively
emasculated by the arrest of many of its leaders and by the continued
ramifications of the disputes over whether or not to enter parliament.
Following the pardons granted to its leaders in mid-2007, the leader-
ship of the CUD indulged in a series of internal disputes which brought
about the total collapse of the coalition. The results have continued to
affect the subsequent activities of opposition parties, most of which
have made no serious efforts to build up their organizational strength
or party structures. Nor did they show any real attempt to campaign
prior to the local elections in 2008 or the federal and regional elections
in 2010.
In effect, in 2007 the CUD as an organization tore itself to pieces as
different leaders tried to take control of the coalition and criticized
322
each other over the events of 2005. Underlining the influence of the US
diaspora on CUD policies, the infighting surfaced first in the United
States, to which a number of leaders departed immediately after their
release.12 Once the dust had settled, Dr Berhanu Nega withdrew to

teach in the United States where he subsequently set up his own orga-
nization, Ginbot 7. Rejected by other coalition leaders, Haile Shawel
took his own AEUP out of the CUD. Birtukan Mideksa, with a num-

ber of other former CUD figures, continued as chairman of the party

under the name of Unity for Democracy and Justice (UDJ or Andinet).
They were unable to continue to use the name of the CUD as the
National Election Board had given this to the CUD MPs who entered
parliament in 2005/6. The parliamentary CUD was accused of betrayal
by its erstwhile colleagues.
Leadership problems continued to plague all these bodies. Birtukan
herself was rearrested in December 2008, accused of having publicly
rejected the terms of her earlier pardon. After mediation by the
Committee of Elders, she was again pardoned in October 2010, sev-
eral months after the elections in May. While in jail, Birtukan proved
unable to control the conflicts and rivalries that arose between UDJ
leaders in her absence. Her re-arrest provided the party with a highly
symbolic martyr, but at the same time it intensified the disarray within
the party leadership. It damaged the party’s effectiveness and produced
two factions within the party, as well as a breakaway faction headed
by Professor Mesfin Woldemariam. After her release, Birkutan decided
to withdraw from politics and retired to the United States. She was
replaced in early 2011 as chair of UDJ by the former president Negasso
Gidada.13 As an independent he had been one of the founders of
Medrek, another opposition coalition set up in July 2008. The UDJ
joined Medrek in 2009.
Medrek, the Forum for Democratic Dialogue in Ethiopia, was
largely the brainchild of Gebru Asrat of ARENA (the Union of
Tigreans for Democracy and Sovereignty). It included several of the
“identity-based”, or ethnically linked parties, among them the Oromo
Federalist Democratic Movement, the Somali Democratic Alliance
Forces, and the United Ethiopian Democratic Forces, in itself a coali-
tion led by Professor Beyene Petros and Dr Merara Gudina, involving

a number of ethnic parties. Also involved were two individuals,

Dr Negasso, the former president, and Siye Abraham, former Defence

Minister. Medrek subsequently listed the Oromo Peoples Congress (led
323
by Dr Merara Gudina) and the Southern Ethiopian Peoples Democratic

Coalition (led by Professor Beyene Petros) among its members. Of the

multi-national opposition parties, the UDJ joined Medrek after pro-
tracted negotiations in 2009. Hailu Shawel’s All Ethiopia Unity Party
(AEUP) refused to join, arguing that the difference between the parties’
concepts was too wide to be brought under one umbrella.14
In mid-2010 Haile Shawel, then 74, announced his intention to
resign from the leadership of his AEUP, but he was subsequently
elected chairman again at a congress at the end of the year. By the fol-
lowing September, the party had split into two factions, with one
group accusing Haile Shawel of making appointments without refer-
ence to general assembly decisions while Haile himself was accusing his
critics of conspiring behind closed doors.
Dr Berhanu Nega had set up Rainbow Ethiopia: Movement for

Democracy and Social Justice with Professor Mesfin Woldemariam in

2004. Never a mass movement, it was never really more than an intel-
lectual attempt to provide a unifying factor for the opposition, and
despite its pretensions, it was never seriously able to compete for the
leadership of the CUD. After his refusal to take up the position of

Mayor of Addis Ababa, Berhanu was one of the CUD leaders arrested
in November 2005. Along with others he was pardoned in 2007 after
mediation by the Committee of Elders and requests for pardon. Losing
out in the competition for the CUD leadership in 2007, Berhanu left
Ethiopia for the United States. Taking up a teaching post, he also set
up his own organization, Ginbot 7, the Movement for Justice, Freedom
and Democracy, in May 2008. This has publicly committed itself to
the overthrow of the government by any means possible, underlining
this position by apparent co-operation with the Ogaden National
Liberation Front and the Oromo Liberation Front, both involved in
armed struggle, and by links with President Isaias Afeworqi of Eritrea.
In April 2009, the government announced that it had foiled a coup
attempt by Ginbot 7 and arrested 35 people. It subsequently revoked
Berhanu’s pardon and sentenced him to death in absentia. Ginbot 7,
like the ONLF and the OLF, has now been declared a terrorist organi-
zation in Ethiopia. It is a curious alliance as the ONLF and the OLF
want to secede from Ethiopia while Ginbot 7 wants to restore the unity
of Ethiopia by doing away with the federal Constitution as well as tak-
ing Assab back from Eritrea.
After taking the UEDP-Medhin out of the CUD in late 2005, Lidetu
Ayelew announced his “Third Way”, claiming to create a functional
324
democratic movement that could operate between the inflexibility and

ineffectiveness of the old politicians and the various opposition parties
and the authoritarian leftist elements of the EPRDF. He defended his

stance over the post-2005 election crisis in a book, Yearem Ersha

(“The Weed Farm”), but he was blamed by many for falling out with
Haile Shawel and Berhanu Nega before he was ousted from the CUD
in October 2005. The power struggle within the CUD between August
and October 2005, and the disputes over whether to take up their seats
in parliament, culminated in the suspension of Lidetu and his deputy
Musa from the CUD council. The ostensibly reason was the issue of
transition from a loose coalition to a full merger of the four parties, as
well as disagreements over allocation of posts and the position of
mayor of Addis Ababa, and personality clashes.
Lidetu’s political reputation was badly damaged by the rumours that
other CUD leaders circulated about him. The expulsion of Lidetu and
Muse from the CUD, shortly after the CUD council had called on the
public to demonstrate and carry out other forms of protest including
actions interpreted as aimed at specific ethnic groups, saved them from
the detentions and trials of CUD leaders. In 2007 the UEDF-Medhin
changed its name to the Ethiopian Democratic Party (EDP). The EDP
claims to be a multi-ethnic party with support in the Amhara region
(Lidetu is from the Wollo area of the Amhara Regional State) as well
as in the Southern Regional State (his successor as president of the
party, Muse Seme, is a Gurage from the Southern Region and looks to
acquire support from the Gurage business community, to make up for
disappointment with Berhanu Nega who is also Gurage). Despite play-
ing an active role in parliament after 2005, the party did badly in the
local elections in 2008 and, like all other opposition parties, collapsed
in 2010. Lidetu did not stand for any party post in 2010 after serving
his allotted two terms as party chairman.
The contrast between the essentially dysfunctional opposition and
the EPRDF could hardly have been more marked after 2005. The
EPRDF took immediate steps to investigate the reasons for its less-
than-expected results in some parts of the countryside and in urban
areas in 2005. More important, it then responded to its findings on a
substantial scale, making major organizational changes. It listened to
the criticisms made by both party members and others and made
sweeping changes in party organization and leadership, especially in
areas where it done badly. It set up women’s and youth organizations
325
in most kebeles and woredas and launched a major recruitment cam-

paign. In 2005, the EPRDF had some 700,000 members; by 2007, in
advance of the local elections, there were over 4 million. By 2010 the
number was well over 5 million. It has continued to grow, if more
slowly. Underlining the point, the government tripled the size of the
elective kebele councils in advance of the election, and the EPRDF put
up candidates for virtually all seats. The numbers were staggering. In
Oromiya there were 1.7 million kebele seats, there were 934,000 in the
Amhara Regional State, 682,000 in the Southern Regional State and
166,000 in Tigrai, with 32,000 in Addis Ababa. In all, the EPRDF pro-
duced 3.7 million candidates for the kebele seats. The opposition was
simply unable to cope, not least because the two largest parties pulled
out of the election. In effect, no other party than the EPRDF was in a
position to operate on any substantive scale in the elections in 2008,
or indeed in 2010.
This has been coupled with major changes in the EPRDF’s concept
of “Revolutionary Democracy”. This has steadily moved away from
the party’s original concentration on the poor peasantry and the pro-
letariat during its struggle to overthrow the military dictatorship before
1991. It began to look towards recruitment of the wealthier peasantry
and the urban petty bourgeoisie. Party spokespersons made it clear
that “revolutionary democracy” did not contradict capitalism or multi-
party democracy. This shift first appeared in the mid-1990s but did not
begin to enter party policies until after about 2002. It only became
really visible after 2005 when the pattern of recruitment began to focus
on various specific groups able to provide competent leadership,
including better-off peasants, secondary school graduates, college stu-
dents and their lecturers as well as intellectuals and women and youth
more generally. The 2006 Congress emphasized the development of
Women and Youth Leagues in rural areas together with recruitment of
moderate and well-off farmers. The party also produced the concept of
deploying members in “armies” to assist in planting and irrigation
activities in the kebeles along with a campaign of support providing
fertilizer and other inputs.
Intensive training was given at all levels and over 300,000 were
given leadership training in 2006–7 alone. In fact, a central aspect of
EPRDF activities in the last seven years has been training programmes
for new recruits and for all levels of the party’s leadership. This was in
response to some of the other weaknesses identified after 2005, which
326
included the failure to maintain effective leadership or to deal with

problems and mistakes promptly, particularly, though not exclusively,
at the local level. A significant number of party leaders at all levels
were retired. Indeed, this process has been extended up to the highest
levels of the party with the policy of retiring senior figures, first
launched at the congress in 2010. This has been coupled with enhanced
promotion of younger cadres to leadership positions.
Other issues that surfaced during the election campaign in 2010
included the problem of landless youths, unemployment and the need
for an efficient and fair judicial system to reduce litigation over land
and allow land claims to be settled fairly. In urban areas, youth unem-
ployment was highlighted, as was the need for the creation of more
micro- and small-enterprises. Inflation was an issue, and has remained
so. The post-election discussions at the 2010 Congress made it clear
that all these issues had been noted and the party would try to respond.
Since then the EPRDF has specifically emphasized the importance of
local councils working to resolve issues of administrative injustice, par-
ticularly illegal land-grabbing by “rent seekers”, and worked to con-
trol inflation (though with significantly less success than it would like).
It has also shown awareness of problems arising over efforts to recruit
a vanguard element in the high schools and universities, with too many
students seeing membership as a possible short cut to advancement.
The result of these EPRDF activities and changes was a massive vic-
tory both in the local elections of 2008 and in the federal and state
elections of 2010. The 2010 elections may have been criticized by the
EU Observer Mission, concerned by the sheer volume of reports of
intimidation and harassment and by the use of state funds by the
EPRDF, but the mission did not believe these had affected the out-
come. Other observers, both in 2005 and in 2010, all classified the
elections as free and fair. In fact, the reports of international observers
both in 2005 and in 2010 do make it clear that allegations of interfer-
ence and harassment have some truth, but there were no indications on
either occasion that these affected the final result.
In fact, it is clear that the EPRDF’s victory in 2010, as in 2008,
resulted from a number of factors in addition to the improved organi-
zation and extensive campaigning of the EPRDF after 2005. There was
the steady economic growth for which the EPRDF could claim credit
since 2004, with annual growth rates averaging 11 per cent.15 This
growth was accompanied by significant social developments within
327
Ethiopia, one of the few countries that appear likely to achieve all the
Millennium Development Goals. Health and education services have
been substantially extended throughout the country, coupled with
some decentralization of authority and finance down to woreda, even
kebele level. Given the virtual identity of the government and the
EPRDF, the EPRDF gained significantly from such developments.
An independent survey of people’s attitudes in advance of the 2010
elections supported these explanations of the EPRDF’s success. It
found that over 50 per cent of the population believed they were bet-
ter off in 2010 than in 2005, and three quarters expected this improve-
ment to continue to 2015. About half of those surveyed saw their own
economic condition as positive and only a fifth classified the economy
or their personal condition as “very bad”, though 59 per cent did not
see the general condition of the country as “satisfactory”. Few saw
crime or religious or ethnic conflict as serious problems; 70 per cent,
however, were critical of unemployment and 40 per cent commented
adversely on corruption. At the same time over 50 per cent felt they
could have some say in what the government did.
As opposed to this, the opposition as a whole, and Medrek in par-
ticular, which had been expected to provide the strongest challenge,
failed to offer anything approaching a sufficiently organized alterna-
tive, or indeed much in the way of coherent policy proposals. The cre-
ation of Medrek and the various leadership changes among the com-
ponent opposition elements did not appear to make any real impact on
the opposition’s capacity, its preparedness or its willingness to operate
between elections.16 This attitude appears to have continued. As of
mid-2012 Medrek, like the UDJ, appeared hardly aware that local elec-
tions were due in Addis Ababa later in the year; certainly its campaign-
ing was invisible. With the next national elections not due until 2015,
Dr Negasso, as chair of Medrek, seemed content to wait for an “Arab

Spring” response, commenting in early 2012, “there are too many eco-
nomic problems, inflation, unemployment…it may explode”.
Addis Ababa is certainly the nerve centre of Ethiopia’s political and
economic activity, but even in that city there was no indication in the
early part of 2012 that any of the opposition parties were prepared to
make any real effort for the forthcoming elections or produce policies
that might encourage their supporters. There was little indication that
Medrek or any of its components had been making any effort to
develop intra-election activity or long-term campaigning. Indeed, in
328
mid-2012 there were press references to “an indolent opposition” and

to the “veil of [opposition] inactivity” looming over the city: “No stra-
tegic political activities that normally foreshadow elections can be
observed within the political space.”
In 2010, given the government figures for growth and highly visible
signs of development, it was hardly surprising that the voters were pre-
pared to reject an opposition that largely confined itself to calls for
regime change and offered little except possible rewriting of the
Constitution and reorganizing of the regions, neither of which had
widespread resonance outside Addis Ababa and parts of the Amhara
regional state. Nor did the public appear to have much, if any, appetite
for the inclination of some opposition politicians to go for confronta-
tion rather than dialogue and participation. There was significant con-
demnation of the opposition’s failure to take up the seats it had won in
2005. Rather than accepting the claim that it would be a betrayal to
take up seats won in a flawed election, the more general attitude in
Addis Ababa in 2010 was that the opposition’s refusal in 2005 to take
up seats in parliament was a betrayal of the public who had given them
their votes. This view was reinforced by the internal bickering among
the CUD leaders after 2007. In the last resort, people did as they always
tend to do in Ethiopian elections: they voted for the winner.
Prime Minister Meles insisted that Ethiopia was being transformed
into an effective democratic developmental state. The EPRDF, under his
chairmanship, has established a highly pragmatic structure, bringing
together party and government in a flexible administration that has
committed itself to extensive pro-poor developments. The EPRDF has
made it clear that it intends to restructure itself and move Ethiopia
gradually away from its current “one party dominant” model, but it
insists on doing this in its own way and at its own pace. Inevitably the
overwhelming size of the EPRDF’s victory has given rise to concerns
that Ethiopia is becoming a one-party state. The diaspora opposition
has certainly made such claims. In fact, the figures for the 2010 election
are misleading. The EPRDF itself won 499 seats out of 547, and seven
other parties allied to the EPRDF won another 46 seats. Nevertheless,
overall opposition parties acquired 30 per cent of the vote nationwide
and 41 per cent of the vote in Addis Ababa in 2010, even though it only
managed to translate this into one seat in the House of Representatives;
another single seat was taken by an Independent.
Ethiopia had the experience of a one party state in the past, the
Derg’s Workers Party of Ethiopia. The EPRDF is very aware that this
329
has left Ethiopians with a very real distaste for any such idea. The
EPRDF itself, after all, fought for years against such a concept. It
would be politically difficult, even dangerous, to try to rebuild a single
party state in Ethiopia. The EPRDF sees the development of a domi-
nant party as the result of efforts to develop “a stable democratic sys-
tem” through multi-party elections in 2005 and 2010. It identifies this
as a major strategic advance in democratization. The next stage, how-
ever, must be a move to a more effective level of multi-party democ-
racy in which two or more parties can continue to provide acceptable
levels of constitutional stability irrespective of which wins an election.
The EPRDF regards this as some years away, if only because of the
weaknesses of the opposition.
Certainly, its own stability seems assured for the foreseeable future.
Overall economic growth and pro-poor development have been
impressive. The ruling party has successfully expanded and largely
educated a vast increase in its numbers. Opposition parties remain
weak and divided, and efforts to raise armed opposition have attracted
little support. The continued successes of the EPRDF have given sup-
port to the view that it knows how to govern. It brought the country
out of the economic shambles of the military regime and the negative
growth of the late 1980s into a near-decade of double digit growth in
the 2000s. It anticipates doubling growth and agricultural production
in its ambitious Growth and Transformation Plan. For most of the
population, as was apparent in May 2010, it offers an acceptable
choice despite the questions that remain over inflation and food prices
as well as some aspects of bureaucracy and governance, including
human rights and the government’s attitude to the press, both feder-
ally and regionally.
Aalen, Lovise and Tronvoll, Kjetil, 2009a, “The 2008 Ethiopian Local
Elections: The Return of Electoral Authoritarianism”, African Affairs,
108/430, pp. 111–20.
——— 2009b, “The End of Democracy? Curtailing Political and Civil Rights
in Ethiopia”, Review of African Political Economy, 36/120, pp. 193–207.
Abbink, Jon, 2006, “Discomfiture of Democracy? The 2005 Election Crisis in
Ethiopia and its Aftermath”, African Affairs, 105/419, pp. 173–99.
Africa Confidential, 2005, “Ethiopia: The Big Upset”, Africa Confidential,
46 (1), pp. l-2.

330
Alemayehu Geda, 2001, “Macroeconomic Performance in Post-Derg Ethiopia”,

Northeast African Studies, 8 (1), pp. 159–204.
Arriola, Leonardo, 2008, “Ethnicity, Economic Conditions, and Opposition
Support: Evidence from Ethiopia’s 2005 Elections”, Northeast African
Studies, 10 (1), pp. 115–44.
——— 2007, “The Ethiopian Voter: An Assessment of Economic and Ethnic
Influences with Survey Data”, International Journal of Ethiopian Studies, 3
(1), pp. 73–90.
Hagmann, Tobias, 2006, “Ethiopian Political Culture Strikes Back: A
Rejoinder to J. Abbink”, African Affairs, 105/421, pp. 605–612.

Lefort, René, 2010, “Powers—Mengist—and Peasants in Rural Ethiopia: the

Post-2005 Interlude”, Journal of Modern African Studies, 48 (3), pp. 435–
460.
Lyons, Terrence, 2006, “Ethiopia in 2005: The Beginning of a Transition?”,
CSIS Africa Notes, January 2006.
Merera Gudina, 2003, Ethiopia: Competing Ethnic Nationalisms and the
Quest for Democracy (1960–2000), Addis Ababa: Shaker Publishing.
Pausewang, Siegfried, 2009, “Political Conflicts in Ethiopia—in View of the
Two-Faced Amhara Identity”, in S. Ege et al (eds), Proceedings of the 16th

International Conference of Ethiopian Studies, vol. 2, Trondheim.

Samatar, A.I., 2005, “The Ethiopian Election of 2005: A Bombshell & Turning

Point?”, Review of African Political Economy, 32, 104/5, pp. 466–

73.
Tronvoll, Kjetil, 2009, “Ambiguous Elections: The Influence of Non-Electoral
Politics in Ethiopian Democratization”, Journal of Modern African Studies,
47 (3), pp. 449–474.
——— 2011, “The Ethiopian 2010 Federal and Regional Elections: Re-
establishing the One-Party State”, African Affairs, 110/438, pp. 121–36.
Tronvoll, Kjetil and Hagmann, Tobias (eds), 2012, Contested Power in
Ethiopia: Traditional Authorities and Multi-Party Elections, Leiden and
Boston: Brill.
331
13
MAKING SENSE OF ETHIOPIA’S

REGIONAL INFLUENCE
Medhane Tadesse
With the region’s largest population and situated at its centre, Ethiopia
was meant to be the Horn of Africa’s most influential country.
However, the make-up of the region itself, in both geographic and eth-
nographic terms, under-development, and a sense of insecurity have
prevented Ethiopia from exercising the stabilizing and hegemonic role
that its size and position might have allowed. Ethiopia remains the
prisoner of history and geography. The ethnic question, access to the
sea and the Nile issue have remained critical issues for hundreds, if not
thousands of years, defining Ethiopia’s future and its place in the Horn
of Africa.
Successive Ethiopian regimes have followed a Metternichean realpo-
litik, carefully identifying their state security interests and resolutely
pursuing them. This largely explains why Ethiopia remains a status
quo power that focuses on maintaining internal peace and a balance of
power in the region. The TPLF-led EPRDF government largely fol-
lowed that tradition. The only difference is that in the early 1990s the
333
EPRDF took the notion of good neighbourliness at face value and

downsized Ethiopia’s military capacity to the detriment of its security.
This created a regional power vacuum which allowed conflicts to fes-
ter unresolved all over the region, often directly threatening the coun-
try. These factors caused most of the failures of the EPRDF’s foreign
policy in the 1990s, and sowed the seeds of a future conflict.
Nonetheless, the EPRDF government quickly recovered and made a
perilous journey to prove that it could react forcefully if its interests
were threatened. As a result, Ethiopia began again to pursue its inter-
ests without waiting for nods of approval from major powers. The
EPRDF-led government used military power and Africa’s security
organizations to breach some of the economic limits on its regional
influence. The diplomatic move was more fruitful, if less dramatic,
than the unilateral use of the military as a means of managing regional
security. Apart from using these organizations as a vehicle to pressure
and isolate hostile countries it also served to block the emergence of a
coalition of countries antagonistic to it or its regional policy impera-
tives. This multiplicity of roles and initiatives seems to indicate a high
degree of coordination at the national, regional, and global levels
aimed at supporting economic development and security, and gaining
influence and standing at the regional level.
EPRDF and the Horn in the 1990s: complexity and caution

Historically, Ethiopian foreign policy has been based on Westphalian
principles with its emphasis on the security, territorial integrity and
sovereignty of the Ethiopian state. This was complemented by a corre-
sponding commitment on the part of Ethiopian leaders to the principle
of non-interference in neighbouring countries unless they posed a clear
danger to their security. The focus has been mainly on maintaining the
status quo and the balance of power rather than supporting interven-
tionism.1 To the extent that the EPRDF had formulated a foreign pol-
icy before assuming state power, it involved non-alignment, a search
for peace in the conflict-ridden Horn, and a genuine—if somewhat
naive—commitment to good neighbourliness. Between 1991 and 1996
the TPLF-led EPRDF had been inward looking as far as the region was
concerned, focusing on the restructuring of the Ethiopian state and
searching for Western economic support to solidify it.
The conduct of EPRDF’s foreign policy in the immediate post-1991
period (the transitional period) can only be understood in light of the
334
MAKING SENSE OF ETHIOPIA’S REGIONAL INFLUENCE
ruling party’s origins in the north of the country as a peasant based

revolutionary movement, the relations it had established with the EPLF
in the course of their revolutionary struggle and the traditional
Ethiopian concerns with security in a volatile and often unpredictable
region.2 This is partly a reflection of a non-state actor assuming state
power. Politically (as a negation of what it called the Derg’s “aggres-
sive” policies) the EPRDF applied a crude policy of good neighbourli-
ness vis-à-vis its neighbours, a policy which later proved to be mis-
taken and which forced the EPRDF to make a U-turn of sorts within a
few years. During this time the EPRDF was hot on rhetoric but cool in
practice. Ethiopian diplomacy was marked more by its passivity and
ideological rigour than by any true inventiveness or realism. The TPLF-
led EPRDF was not naïve but political expediency coupled with its pol-
icies of ending the long antagonistic relations in the Horn and having
good relations with its neighbours meant it had to fly low and focus on
internal political transition, stability and nation building.3
Understandably, Ethiopia’s regional policy during this period was
one of adjustment to Eritrean independence and was largely based on
the premise that any unnecessary conflicts with outside forces (mainly
neighbours and especially the EPLF) would significantly damage or
undermine the Ethiopian state.4 This position was a direct response to
new security and governance challenges. However, the EPRDF was
very slow to appreciate the new features of the Horn’s international
relations.5 The overthrow of the Derg not only produced a government
of a very different political complexion in Ethiopia, it also produced a
new country: Eritrea. In the decade after it was established, Eritrea had
major difficulties in establishing its position and ranking in the Horn
inter-state system, and its frequently contentious relations with its
neighbours further complicated the foreign policy challenges facing
Ethiopia’s new rulers. It can be argued that Ethiopia’s regional and for-
eign policy during this period was to a large extent influenced by his-
tory, ideology and immediate practical challenges facing the country.
In the late 1980s and early 1990s Ethiopia was on the verge of frag-
mentation and decay. Poverty, underdevelopment and a sense of inse-
curity correlated with a cautious regional policy. TPLF leaders
accepted the tremendous loss of power and influence and tried to “lead
from behind”. They became more preoccupied with domestic rather
than foreign policy.
EPRDF policy on Eritrea was largely influenced by its almost mysti-
cal communion with what it defined as revolutionary democratic ide-
335
als such as self-determination, harking back to the days of its armed

struggle.6 One of the reasons behind EPRDF’s policy towards Eritrea
was the fact that even after assuming power, the EPRDF continued to
operate largely as a revolutionary movement and not as a democratic
party of government responsible for safeguarding the national interests
of the country. The ultimate expression of this approach was the
EPRDF’s willingness to cede to the demands of the EPLF for a referen-
dum on Eritrean independence and to accept the outcome, thus ensur-
ing initially positive relations between Addis Ababa and Asmara.7 This
was a policy in stark contrast to the Westphalian tradition and noth-
ing short of an abandonment of the offensive posture of its predeces-
sors, which had been defensive in nature.
The major task of reconstructing the Ethiopian state based on a new
model (ethnic federalism) and in the meantime maintaining its unity
seems to have led its leaders to stay clear of conflict, war or indeed any
sort of foreign involvement. Ethiopia’s new leaders seemed inward
looking and tired of war. Evidently, TPLF leaders saw Ethiopia less as
a regional power than as a poor and conflict-ridden country on the
verge of collapse. During this period Ethiopia’s regional policy was
largely immobilized, creating a vacuum in which the new state of
Eritrea was able to punch above its weight. Ethiopia’s regional policy
suffered a brief moment of contraction. On the surface this was due to
the fact that the TPLF-led EPRDF came to power committed to the
development of the poverty-stricken rural economy, peasant empow-
erment, revolutionary democracy, and opposition to traditional dom-
ination of the Amhara, but gave little attention to foreign affairs. At
another level, it was a matter of managing emerging power relations
and the TPLF was mainly concerned with establishing its dominance
in Ethiopia regardless of developments in Eritrea. The priority was
internal power consolidation and external resource mobilization.
The TPLF-led EPRDF followed a policy of peaceful coexistence by
respecting the sovereignty and territorial integrity of its neighbours,
and appeared to concentrate on forming and protecting its own new
political order and economic development, for which it also needed at
least a respite from engagement in regional conflicts. The task of main-
taining the unity of disparate ethnic groups in volatile and hostile sur-
roundings seems to have made them apprehensive about the survival
of the Ethiopian state; hence the emphasis on security. Decidedly, the
priority lay in transforming Ethiopia from an impoverished disaster
into a poor but more productive country. Ensuring the country’s con-
336
tinuity and regional influence necessitated internal peace and economic

growth. The EPRDF nonetheless went on to play a leading and posi-
tive role in the peace processes in Sudan and Somalia, Muslim neigh-
bours with which Ethiopia has always had contentious relations.
Regional actors moved in to take advantage of Ethiopia’s apparent
weakness, creating instability and uncertainty.8
Indeed, the sub-region saw the good gesture of the EPRDF as a sign
of weakness and tried to provoke the regime and test its strength. The
country found itself under assault from dissidents and Islamists oper-
ating from both Sudan and Somalia, and after many attempts to
resolve these problems through reconciliation, the EPRDF responded
militarily in what would prove to be highly effective operations.9 Most
significantly, after a few years Eritrea moved in to occupy Ethiopian
territory: a breaking point in the post-1991 fledgling political order.10
The National Islamic Front (NIF) saw the new situation in Ethiopia as
an opportune moment to introduce its Islamist politics to the country’s
large Muslim population.
Sudanese leaders seem to have expected a “payback” from the
EPRDF in the form of allowing a free hand for its cadres and Islamic
NGOs in the country. This, undoubtedly, was another major cause of
hostility between the two regimes when Islamist intrigue reached its
height in mid-1995. In parallel to this, the Somali Islamist insurgent
group conducted several attacks inside Ethiopian territory. Repeated
terrorist attacks by al-Ittihad al-Islamiyya in eastern Ethiopia and
Khartoum’s efforts at exporting political Islam mainly in western
Ethiopian regions convinced Ethiopian leaders to join the anti-Khar-
toum coalition at a later stage. The EPRDF came to that position cir-
cuitously, indicating its lack of sufficient knowledge about the differ-
ent camps in Khartoum, its desire to end the long antagonistic relations
in the Horn and its eagerness to have good relations with its neigh-
bours. So, whatever level of commitment Ethiopia’s new leaders might
have had to peaceful coexistence and non-interference in the affairs of
neighbouring countries, it was only a matter of time before they were
drawn into the conflictual nature of the Horn’s international system.
From non-interference to non-tolerance: 1996–2006

The attempted assassination of Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak in
Addis Ababa in 1995 marked the end of the post-1991 period of cau-
337
tion for EPRDF-dominated Ethiopia. Ethiopian leaders saw the events

surrounding the assassination attempt as a Sudanese bid to humiliate
and weaken Ethiopia and thereby set the stage for conflict and insta-
bility. There was some truth to the Ethiopian perception. Ethiopia was
shocked by the assassination attempt and felt humiliated. As a result
the EPRDF shifted its policy towards the Sudan from cooperation to
confrontation.11 Only then did the EPRDF act, dramatically reducing
the size of the Sudanese embassy, closing the consulate in Gambella,
expelling Islamist NGOs, arresting many Sudanese in the country, and
conducting a widespread purge, particularly in the infiltrated regional
government of Banishangul-Gumuz. Not stopping with this the EPRDF
reconciled with the SPLA and allowed it to establish military bases on
its western border.12 The policy on the Sudan based on a friendly and
good neighbourly relationship ended and once again EPRDF’s policy
resembled that of the Derg.13 The EPRDF suddenly became entangled
in the conventional dictum “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”
which characterizes the inter-state rivalries in the Horn as well as the
common support for neighbouring states’ uprisings. Ethiopian diplo-
macy and regional policy had made a perilous journey to reach this
point with enormous consequences.
This turnaround in regional policy and military posture would ulti-
mately result in Ethiopia having a measure of influence in Sudanese
affairs. After what Ethiopia regarded as a regional attempt to further
damage it, the EPRDF reverted to reasserting its influence in the neigh-
bourhood. This came about from the effective use of its military power,
but also the far-reaching influence of the regional organization
IGAD. The EPRDF-led government’s influence in the Horn of Africa,

to the extent that it was exerted, largely involved the effective use of
regional security organizations and stop-gap coalitions. Ethiopia joined
the Kampala-Asmara–Kigali axis, an alliance aimed at changing the sta-
tus quo in the Congo and Sudan. Ethiopia was much slower to move
towards confrontation with Sudan than either Uganda or Eritrea, but
when it did move after 1995, its role was potentially decisive. Very
spectacularly, Ethiopia stepped up its military engagement with Sudan
not only by providing full support to the Sudan Peoples’ Liberation
Movement (SPLM) but also by deploying its army units and directing
SPLA military operations. Ethiopian engagement included upgrading
the military skills of the SPLA so as to make it an effective fighting force
capable of organizing and directing big military operations.14 Ethiopia’s
338
first effort was undertaken to prevent the defeat of the SPLA in

Equatoria; it was followed by a counter offensive in the Parajok opera-
tion. Ethiopian support had long-term consequences for the SPLA, the
course of the war and the military balance of power in Sudan.
In February 1996 the SPLA and the Ethiopian military occupied
Yabus at the southern tip of Blue Nile State in Sudan and defeated a
Sudanese airborne counter-offensive. Then in 1997 the Ethiopians
enabled the SPLA to conduct the Black Fox Operation that liberated the
Kurmuk-Geizan area from government control—sending a shockwave
to the leaders in Khartoum and creating a feeling that the days of the
Sudanese regime were numbered. It is no exaggeration to say that were
it not for the Eritrean-Ethiopian war the Sudanese regime would have
come close to collapse.15 Most importantly, Ethiopia altered the mili-
tary situation in Sudan for a long time to come. The military balance of
power between North and South Sudan, largely maintained by Ethiopia,
was critical in cementing close relations between the two. It was also
important for creating the conditions for peace negotiations, and pro-
vided the incentive for a political settlement. South Sudan was always
grateful towards Ethiopia, particularly for the key military support dur-
ing the recent war with the North, while the North came to recognize
the disruptive nature of Ethiopian military power, seeing it as a major
deterrent against Eritrean transgression. It is also said that the govern-
ment in Khartoum came to be more comfortable with the predictabil-
ity of the Ethiopian leadership compared to the unpredictable and
reclusive nature of the Eritrean leader. Gradually the politics of water
and oil would come into the picture, contributing to the development
of trust and close relations between Khartoum and Addis Ababa.
Having close relations with both Khartoum and Juba put the TPLF-
led government in a unique position of influence in both the North and
the South.16 This, coupled with the IGAD peace process, increased
Ethiopian influence in Sudan; Ethiopian leaders played a critical role
in authoring the Declaration of Principles (DoP) which served as a
basis for the negotiations that led to the signing of the Comprehensive
Peace Agreement (CPA). The IGAD peace process and its pitfalls could
be considered as one arm of Ethiopian foreign policy and strategy on
the Sudan. Dealing with immediate security threats by military means
and turning them into a diplomatic asset with the help of regional
mechanisms had been the defining feature of Ethiopia’s regional pol-
icy. This would be replicated in the cases of Somalia and Eritrea, and
will most probably be seen in the case of Egypt.
339
However, Ethiopia’s most direct security threat came from Somalia.17

Ethiopia responded with a cross border military operation in the Gedo
region of Somalia, destroying al-Ittihad’s main base in the locality of
Luuq.18 This was probably the earliest large-scale operation against a
collection of international jihadists in the world. From this perspective
the attacks of 11 September did not—as is widely claimed—impose a

new course, but instead intensified existing trends. The security threat
from Somali and al-Ittihad actions seemed to have dissipated until the
outbreak of the Eritrean-Ethiopian war in 1998. However, Ethiopia
remained on high alert, ready to move into Somalia any time it felt its
security was threatened. Thus a consistent pattern in the EPRDF’s
regional policy was its commitment to change Ethiopia’s age-old con-
flictual relations with its neighbours and its pursuit of a policy of good
neighbourliness while it was steadily drawn ever deeper into the con-
cerns of its neighbours as threats to its security grew.
Meanwhile, repeated attacks from Somalia led to successive inter-
ventions, which enabled Ethiopia to cultivate friends and interest
group inside the war-torn country. During the Ethio-Eritrean war,
Eritrea tried to open another military front against Ethiopia in Somalia.
The shipment of armaments from Eritrea and the gathering of anti-
EPRDF forces in Baidoa in 1999 invited a large-scale military offensive
by Ethiopia inside Somali territory. This, apparently, led to the mili-
tary decline of Mohamed Farah Aideed’s United Somali Congress-
Somali National Alliance (USC-SNA) in Somalia. It also marked a
change in Ethiopia’s policy towards Somalia.19 Ethiopia’s close rela-
tions with Somali clans and political forces in the autonomous region
of Puntland, Bay, Bakol and Gedo are a direct result of this develop-
ment. Beyond military intervention, Ethiopia decided to co-opt friendly
Somali forces and enable them to take care of adjacent border areas as
buffer zones for its own security. Subsequently, Ethiopia went on to
play a leading role in the Somali peace processes, among which the
1996 Sodere Peace Process was the most prominent.
Through the National Salvation Council created at the Sodere talks,
and by co-opting mainly Darod factions of the Somali National Front
(SNF), Somali Patriotic Movement (SPM) and SSDF, Ethiopia suc-
ceeded in developing the capacity of friendly Somali forces and a pro-
Ethiopian Somali camp inside Somalia. In the meantime Ethiopia
would support the establishment of the friendly autonomous region of
Puntland. In 1991 its roadmap for Somalia, supported by IGAD and
340
the European Union as well as the US, aimed at establishing regional

administrations: the so-called Building Block Approach (BBA). This
gave it an opening to build close relations with Somali regions.20 The
BBA seeks to resolve the conflict in Somalia around the concept of
“building blocks”, using a decentralized approach to Somali unity,
rather than the much-discredited efforts to produce a unified adminis-
tration in one go. Like the DOP in Sudan, the BBA for Somalia helped
Ethiopia to build relations with several Somali administrations with-
out having to wait for a nod of approval or a protest note from
Hawiya-dominated Mogadishu. As a result of this policy, Ethiopia
gained support from the newly created Puntland administration, whose
leaders were eager to seek Ethiopian support against the Hawiya-
dominated south.21 For much of the next decade several Somali groups,
particularly Darod political and armed forces, looked upon Ethiopia
for military support in a bid to strengthen their negotiating power vis-
à-vis Hawiya-led factions.
Ethiopia had already cultivated sympathetic relations with the inde-
pendent Republic of Somaliland. Like Puntland, Somaliland considered
Ethiopia as the ultimate guarantor of its security and sovereignty.
Hence, the relationship has remained very close for the largest part of
Somaliland’s years of independence. Ethiopia continues to have good
relations with the Republic of Somaliland.22 Ethiopian policy’s primary
intention was to create safe havens for its own security. Nurturing
peace zones in Somalia was a major aspect of its regional policy.
However, it became instrumental in establishing close relations and
influence in Somalia’s northern regions. There have also been initia-
tives by elements within breakaway Somaliland to unite their territory
with Ethiopia and, while there is no indication that the EPRDF would
welcome such a development, it is known to support the creation of a
number of small Somali states, perhaps along the lines of Puntland.
The support for the BBA by the international community is critical in
this regard. Whatever they do in terms of a road map for peace in
Somalia and Sudan, Ethiopian leaders have sought synergy and coher-
ence with their neighbours, Africa’s regional organizations and the
West. This gave Addis Ababa international legitimacy to act militarily
but also to play a leading role diplomatically.
In the late 1990s both the OAU and IGAD gave Ethiopia a mandate
to monitor the Somali peace process, providing it with significant
leverage in Somali affairs. This brought widespread sympathy and sup-
341
port for the Ethiopian regional policy even if such relations were
mainly handled by the military, without proper oversight by the polit-
ical leadership. In November 2006 Ethiopia launched an all-out war
against the Union of Islamic Courts (UIC) and occupied many towns
in Somalia including the capital Mogadishu. The main goal of the mil-
itary intervention was to weaken Somali Islamists and deny them a
permanent base or favourable environment from which they could
launch attacks on Ethiopia, or serve as a launching pad for Eritrea.
Until January 2009, for two years, the Ethiopian army stayed in
Somalia. This led to the disintegration of the UIC and the continued
presence of a Somali government, albeit weak, in Mogadishu. By inter-
vening militarily Ethiopia helped to relocate an internationally sanc-
tioned Somali government inside Mogadishu, triggering internal splits
within the UIC and ultimately blocking the emergence of a Somali gov-
ernment dominated by radical and violent Islamist groups.
Ethiopian intervention also prepared the ground for a UN-backed
African peacekeeping force to be deployed in Somalia. Had it not been
for the Ethiopian military the African Union Mission for Somalia
(AMISOM) would not have been conceived, let alone parachuted into
Mogadishu. While AMISOM continued to protect the infrastructure
around Mogadishu the Ethiopian army remained responsible for the
handling of difficult military operations against al-Shabaab. Its role
has largely been to oversee and protect the African force stationed in
Somalia. Ethiopia also played a critical role in co-ordinating the AU
and IGAD roles in Somalia.23 The war in Somalia once again proved
Ethiopia’s military primacy in Africa; its military remains self-suffi-
cient, capable of conducting all kinds of cross-border military opera-
tions without waiting for external support.24 Consequently IGAD, in
which Ethiopia played a key role, continued to supervise developments
in Somalia. In October 2008 the sub-regional organization established
a Somalia Facilitator Liaison Office in Addis Ababa with the mandate
to oversee critical aspects of support for the Transitional Federal
Government (TFG) of Somalia.25 The combined use of military mus-
cle, diplomatic weight and deep knowledge and expertise on the situ-
ation helped Ethiopia play an unmatched role in Somali affairs. In
both political and military terms Ethiopia slowly emerged as the main
arbiter of the conflict in Somalia. This role, as well as Ethiopia’s close-
ness to Camp Lemonier, Djibouti, the only permanent US military
base in Africa, makes Ethiopia an important country for the West in
its “war on terror”.
342
The War with Eritrea and Ethiopia’s Military Resurgence

Still trying to reorganize their regional security file, Ethiopia’s leaders
faced another embarrassment when clearly neither the party nor the
Ethiopian armed forces were prepared for the Eritrean attack of May
1998 that resulted in heavy losses, both material and human.
Compounding this was the early failure of the Ethiopian government
to successfully challenge Eritrea’s far superior defence of its case inter-
nationally. Ethiopia fought much of its war with Eritrea in direct
opposition to the international community led by the US. Evidently,

the policy of the EPRDF became increasingly influenced by the insta-

bility of the countries on its borders. The war with Eritrea brought this
to a climax and, almost certainly, the EPRDF will eventually at some
point conclude that its strict adherence to a policy of good neighbour-
liness has been a mistake and that Ethiopia’s security necessitates sus-
tained involvement.
The diplomatic effort of the EPRDF-led government became fully
focused on creating friends globally in a bid to win the war against
Eritrea, but the results were not impressive. Major actors in the inter-
national community failed to take official and clear positions on the
war. Indeed some advised Ethiopia not to go to war. Ethiopian leaders
rejected this partly because they considered it a legitimate war of self-
defence. As a result there was a marked slowing down of international
financing and aid flows to Ethiopia and a reduction in goodwill. The
Americans were reported to have gone to the extent of warning
Ethiopian leaders not to go to war or to cross the Eritrean border, say-
ing that there would be bad consequences if they did.26 From the
EPRDF’s perspective improved relations with the West would not be
achieved by acceding to US or Western demands for a peaceful settle-
ment of the war but instead by reversing Eritrean aggression, by mili-
tary means if necessary. By aiming at this the EPRDF tried not only to
demonstrate its independence and military prowess but also to show
that outside powers should respect Ethiopian interests in the region
and recognize it as a force of stability.27 A military defeat of Eritrea
was also expected to serve as a lesson to other forces in the region with
intentions to destabilize the Ethiopian state. Ethiopia also sought to
frustrate Eritrean hegemonic ambitions once and for all, and ensure
Ethiopian military supremacy in the sub-region. This, basically, was
the line of argument presented by the group that later opposed Meles
during the 2001 crisis within the TPLF.
343
However, Ethiopian diplomacy succeeded in getting some sympathy,

particularly in Africa. African mediation teams supported the call for
the withdrawal of Eritrean forces from the occupied territory. The
bloody and devastating conflict came to an end after both parties
signed the Cessation of Hostilities Agreement in June 2000 and the
Framework for the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (Algiers Peace
Agreement) in December 2000. The Algiers agreement came about in
large part because of Ethiopia’s military victory, but also partly
because of the pressures that the two regimes had been under. The
Algiers “peace” could be considered largely an Ethiopian peace, as it
was surely dictated by Ethiopia. The international community, headed
by the US and the EU, had equally made it clear that the option of con-
tinued war was not acceptable. After an outright military victory
Ethiopia cooperated fully with the United Nations, agreed to withdraw
from Eritrean territory and allowed the establishment of a Temporary
Security Zone (TSZ). The sense of humility after victory created confi-
dence on the part of the international community that Ethiopia had no
other intentions beyond defending its territory. Gradually Ethiopia
would mend fences with the West. Also important in Ethiopia’s
increasing acceptance is its key role in the “war on terror” and the
growing cooperation with Western and primarily US armed forces and
intelligence services. This began before the 11 September attacks and

the subsequent “war on terrorism”, but has intensified since then. The
“war on terrorism” was thus very fortuitous for Ethiopia because it
came at a time when Ethiopia’s relation with the West were at their
lowest owing to complications created by the war with Eritrea.
Ethiopia evacuated Eritrean territory (the TSZ, allowing the UN
force to come in), scaled down its hostile propaganda and military
preparations and demobilized at least a third of its army. Meanwhile
Eritrea moved in the opposite direction, speeding up its recruitment of
additional military forces, accumulating a new military arsenal and
continuing a policy of destabilization in a bid to weaken the regime in
Addis Ababa. Later on Ethiopia would object to the ruling of the bor-
der commission and continued to define its interests irrespective of a
series of protests from Eritrea, a position that created unpredictability
in the peace process.28 No wonder the high expectations that followed
the April 2002 EEBC decision have not, so far, been fulfilled. The war
redefined the regional power hierarchy. It became clear that Eritrea did
not possess enough military power or reliable allies to uphold the rul-
344
ing and overturn the post-Algiers order. Ethiopia’s good will has been
welcomed by Africa and the world, its readiness for peace duly recog-
nized. Ethiopian leaders have always been careful not to go against the
decisions and resolutions of the UN as well as Africa’s regional orga-
nizations. This is a big source of strategic and diplomatic capital on
which they have carefully continued to build and which has yielded
superior results.
The war with Eritrea had a great deal of impact on Ethiopia’s
regional standing. It demonstrated Ethiopian military skill and sent a
shockwave of threat to its neighbours. President Isayas of Eritrea was
contemplating capitulation (indeed, he was on the verge of leaving the
port of Assab as a ransom),29 Egypt and Sudan were in total disbelief
at the speed with which Ethiopia defeated the “mighty” Eritrean army
and pushed deep into Eritrean territory. Even Kenya, not a party to the
regional tension, was worried. Ethiopia’s neighbours were actually so
disturbed by the outcome of the war that the Ethiopian government
had to send a military delegation to calm them down and explain the
situation.30 Initially caught totally unprepared but able to prevail,
Ethiopia emerged from the war with Eritrea with renewed self-confi-
dence. In the following years Ethiopia worked hard to isolate Eritrea
using multiple avenues. Its diplomacy was aimed at familiarizing the
international community with what it labelled “Asmara’s destabiliza-
tion strategy” in the Horn of Africa. It also created a regional alliance
aimed at the regime in Asmara. To this effect Ethiopia helped create
the Sana’a Forum with Sudan and Yemen, which served to isolate and
weaken the regime in Asmara.31 This diplomatic move was as fruitful,
if less dramatic, as the unilateral use of the military.
Ethiopia’s use of ad hoc coalitions and regional organizations in a
bid to promote its position and isolate hostile countries has been exem-
plary. Such a strategy is also intended to achieve another goal: to block
the emergence of a hostile camp in the neighbourhood. Looking at
Ethiopia’s attempt to ensure its security in Somalia and Sudan shows
that what it cannot tolerate are tight borders without buffer zones and
its neighbours united against it. This is why similar Ethiopian actions
that took place later appeared aggressive but were actually defensive.
Ethiopia’s successful application of soft power through the use of
regional organizations in support of its regional policy and national
security interests is less recognized by many and appears, on the sur-
face, surprising. But there seems to be an explanation behind this.
345
Beyond sticking to their resolutions Ethiopia’s relationship with

Africa’s regional organizations has a deep and broad history behind it.
As it is heir to an ancient state and played a critical role in African
independence and unity, the cumulative diplomatic wealth of the
Ethiopian state is quite enormous. The historicity of the Ethiopian
state, its accumulated conduct of foreign policy and the tradition of
statecraft have been useful in gaining an advantage over new countries
like Eritrea. Its critical role in the revitalization of Africa’s regional
security organizations is another. Its place in the history of the Black
Consciousness Movement and pan-Africanism is an additional asset.
An age-old diplomatic arsenal and organizational culture also mat-
tered. Ethiopia’s new leaders have benefited a great deal from the col-
lective memory, historical narrative and diplomatic potential of the
Ethiopian state.
A degree of Ethiopia’s influence in the region is an extension of its
position and influence in African regional organizations and beyond.
However, Ethiopian leaders were also helped by the behaviour of the
Eritrean leadership. Eritrea worked hard to antagonize much of Africa
and the rest of the world. Its gradual isolation is to some extent self-
inflicted. It pursued angry and rejectionist diplomacy which perpetu-
ated its own marginalization.32 Unhappy with Ethiopia’s influence in
the African diplomatic landscape, Eritrea dissociated itself from both
the AU and IGAD, leaving its regional diplomacy at the mercy of Addis
Ababa. While Ethiopia increased its engagement Eritrea pursued dis-
engagement. Aware of the benefits they provided, Ethiopia remained
in constant conversations with regional organizations and gradually its
leaders came to occupy centre stage in Africa’s international relations.
Although Eritrea has attempted to return to full IGAD membership, it
has become extremely difficult partly due to Ethiopian influence.
Eritrea has definitely been asked to pass through rigorous processes
before securing admission to the regional organization.33
The war with Eritrea also helped Ethiopia to establish close eco-
nomic and diplomatic ties with Djibouti. It had already forced Ethiopia
to divert its import-export axis from Eritrean ports to the port of
Djibouti. This coupled with the threat posed by Eritrea to both Djibouti
and Ethiopia has led to a growing alliance between the two countries.
The “war on terror” and instability from Somalia helped to cement
their relationship. This is not the place to describe the multi-dimen-
sional relationship between Ethiopia and Djibouti, but instead to show
346
that closer security relations and the ever increasing volume of import-
export trade make Djibouti the lifeline for Ethiopia and vice versa. The
two countries have become much closer, to the extent that there have
been talks about forming a union with Ethiopia and they have gone as
far as bringing France into the discussions. This resulted in the progres-
sive strengthening of Ethio-Djiboutian relations to the extent that
Ethiopia played a key role in the conceptualization of Djiboutian eco-
nomic policy and the Vision 2035 development plan.34 This includes a
vast cross-border industrialization programme as well a cross-border
duty-free zone to integrate Djibouti’s economy with Ethiopia’s and
provide a gateway to other economies in the region such as South
Sudan.35 The economic imperatives aside, the leaders of both countries
have developed a great deal of intimacy.
The attempt by Ethiopia to regain primacy and reassert its influence
has been multi-pronged. Primarily, it was concerned with internal sta-
bility and a growth-led strategy. This required thwarting any threat in
the sub-region militarily and economically, bilaterally and multilater-
ally. The military component helped to keep the country from danger
by dealing with hostile military attacks. However, it also served to cre-
ate a first and second tier of buffers around its borders, creating the
internal stability required for development. Playing a leading role in
peace processes and peacekeeping operations has been very much part
of the strategy. Ethiopian leaders consciously and aggressively pursued
this strategy partly because it accords them support and recognition by
the international community. It has also helped them to secure the
goodwill of Western countries and financial institutions. Compounding
this is the use of regional organizations for streamlining its foreign pol-
icy objectives. Hard power may be needed for blunting security threats
and self-protection, but Ethiopia had to apply other mechanisms of
soft power to look after its security interests. A critical element of
this—something that has really been going on from the beginning—is
that Ethiopia will always try to prevent anti-Ethiopian coalitions from
forming. In this way the EPRDF’s record in foreign policy is better
than generally recognized.
However, partly in response to deep structural difficulties, most of
the ingredients of Ethiopia’s regional influence remain either outside
the continent, or in the realm of economic development, or both.
Indeed internal peace and economic development at home and regional
peace and security initiatives have underlined the EPRDF’s determina-
347
tion to come to grips with its regional status. As discussed previously

the earlier focus was on survival, to be followed by economic develop-
ment that could in turn lead to regional influence. Thus, the single
most important focus of Ethiopian foreign policy has been economic
development at home for which a secure region and Western economic
support were critical.
Global Express: the quest for regional influence through

economic diplomacy
Ethiopia has clearly identified poverty as its number one national secu-
rity threat. Other countries implicitly acknowledge a similar concern
but only Ethiopia has developed a coherent policy framework for
addressing the issue. Success in this growth-based strategy demands
access to external resources, at least in the short term, and a stable
neighbourhood. The argument would be that there could only be a
geopolitical shift in favour of Ethiopia if it is aligned with an economic
shift. This requires transforming Ethiopia from an impoverished disas-
ter into a more productive country. In this regard Ethiopian leaders
have a long-term view of Ethiopia’s influence in the sub-region. A
country with a strong economy would be in a far better position to
compete with and resist unfair pressures from countries like Egypt.
This will only come if the country gets respite from regional conflicts
and mobilises external resources.
The Ethiopian calculation could be that the strategic threat to the
country is presented by Egypt, whose politics have been structured
around its desire to control the headwaters of the Nile, and which has
therefore sought to isolate Ethiopia and prevent an alliance of states in
the Horn from emerging to challenge its sub-regional hegemony. While
busy making long-term military preparations for an eventual confron-
tation with Egypt which could probably happen some time in the
future, Ethiopian leaders were caught by surprise when in 1998 they
were attacked by the least expected neighbour, Eritrea. The Ethiopian
government had come to recognize that the country should first develop
and development could come only, at least at the initial period, with the
support of the West. And both should be handled with care and fore-
sight. This was particularly important to deal with the threat that would
inevitably come from Egypt. So, the assessment was that Ethiopia must
first create economic strength. Militarily strong but economically poor
348
is a bad position for nations to be in. If Ethiopia is to remain united and

survive as a state, it must be in an economically strong position to pro-
tect its interests and shape its regional environment.
No doubt a major plank in Ethiopia’s foreign policy, which was rel-
atively successful in the immediate aftermath of 1991, was the develop-
ment of positive relations with the West and particularly the US, which
was seen as the ultimate guarantor of donor money. This was mainly
at a time when bipolarity attracted limited global interest in the Horn
of Africa, largely because of the region’s insignificant economic contri-
bution.36 In economic terms Ethiopian diplomacy has been categori-
cally global. Not surprisingly, the main global engagement of Ethiopia
is dictated by its desire to extract resources from dominant power
blocks so as to develop its economy within the realms of globalization.
The Ethiopian leadership sees Ethiopia’s future advance only through
the input of enormous amounts of foreign aid and investment and that
capital will only be forthcoming if Ethiopia wins the favour of the US
and the IFIs over which it exerts most control. Indeed, the EPRDF has
demonstrated considerable foreign policy skills at the global level, clev-
erly adapting to the US-dominated new world order and securing
resources on conditions that allow it far more autonomy than most
developing countries.37 In effect, the EPRDF leadership had come to
formally endorse globalization and its geostrategic implications. This
has been mainly true after the split within the TPLF.
The Ethiopian government white paper on Foreign Policy and
Security Strategy, reportedly written by the Prime Minister himself in
early 2003, clearly stipulates that the main focus of Ethiopian foreign
policy should be geared towards building a vibrant capitalist economy
and a democratic order upon which the future survival of Ethiopia
depends.38 To realize this objective, the policy document argues that
attracting investment, capital and aid to the country and upgrading
Ethiopia’s participation in the world market are crucial. Clearly the
determinant of Ethiopian foreign policy has remained the domestic eco-
nomic and political context. The new policy further underscores that
Ethiopia’s relations with any other country should be based on a clear
assessment of its contributions or potential input to the eradication of
poverty and the building of a democratic order. As a result, given their
limited potential and capacity in the two areas of Ethiopian interest,
neighbouring countries, except the Sudan with its oil-led economy, are
not given priority. Hence, the focus on resources, particularly water.
349
Ethiopia’s huge hydroelectric power projects are meant to facilitate

not only economic development but also regional economic integration
and stable relations with neighbours. They are aimed at consolidating
Ethiopia’s economic and diplomatic weight through water-led energy
diplomacy.39 Ethiopia is anxious to export electricity to all of its neigh-
bours. Ethiopia’s focus on economic development has regional objec-
tives potentially contributing to energy-led integration in the Horn of
Africa. Still, old economic ties dominate the region, except that
Ethiopia’s new model, exporting energy, will make these countries
even more dependent than they were previously. These are the dynam-
ics that Ethiopia is hoping it will take advantage of in order to reassert
its sphere of influence. Ethiopia’s economic influence in the region will
become far more important over the next five to ten years.
Thus, limited by a dearth of resources and competing domestic con-
cerns, the Ethiopian government seems to have chosen to actively par-
ticipate in external realms. Its active role in the formative period of the
AU, its energetic participation in NEPAD initiatives, its engagement
and tiresome consultations with international financial institutions and
quick flexibility in adopting to the principles of liberal democracy and
the market economy, and its desire to appear as a force for stability in
a volatile sub-region are all geared towards achieving its economic and
political objectives. The primary goal is to guarantee unilateral advan-
tages from privileged relations with external actors. It is a major part
of a long process in which the EPRDF is trying hard to translate an
international profile into political and economic resources that would
serve domestic and regional purposes.
Occasionally lambasting Eritrean intransigence and Islamic terror-
ists, Ethiopia over the last ten years has focused on domestic economic
concerns. The EPRDF’s laser-like focus on economic diplomacy is cer-
tainly a sharp contrast to its predecessors. Effective use of aid money
has only increased the acceptance of the Ethiopian government among
the aid and donor community and ensured continued financial sup-
port. The whole exercise was considerably supported by the personal
interventions of the Prime Minister. That Ethiopia was one of the larg-
est recipients of international assistance in Africa and has gained the
support of the US while the country is ruled by a vanguard party that
has made only limited progress in democratization and privatization is
on the surface a paradox, if not an enigma. To a large extent Ethiopian
foreign policy was helped by the regional and continental profile of the
350
Prime Minister. The problems of the regime were masked by the

extraordinary openness, charm and intellectual brilliance with which
Prime Minister Meles Zenawi was able to engage the sympathies of
leaders of international financial institutions and leading foreigners.40
His role in Africa’s international relations, his place in the AU’s New
Economic Partnership for Africa’s Development (NEPAD) and in
Africa’s climate talks at the international level, were meant to reinforce
the same outcome.41 This has been a major factor in attracting interna-
tional attention to Ethiopia. This, coupled with its security role, has
increased the regional influence of Ethiopia in that the country has
become a critical player in regional diplomacy and security; a country
that has to be listened to even by global powers. Thus it is not surpris-
ing that Ethiopia’s relations with the West are strong, as indicated by
the high level of aid that flows into the country and the unwillingness
of Western countries to seriously criticize Ethiopia about its human
rights abuses.42 Ethiopia has been securing various funds from the
international community, a major prerequisite for mobilizing interna-
tional resources for the grand experiment that is transforming Ethiopia
through a developmental state paradigm.43 Evidently, the presence of
a focused and dynamic government committed to economic develop-
ment meant that greater utilization of the waters of the Blue Nile
would become a government priority. Furthermore, the possibility that
Ethiopia’s economic development and the continued mobilization of
external resources could enable the country to finance big economic
projects has, as expected, presented a new set of challenges to Egypt.
The challenge from Egypt: Ethiopia and the regional power order
Even the military defeat of Eritrea and closer relations with the West
did not make Ethiopia’s economic development, security and domi-
nance in the region inevitable. A major factor in the absence of a work-
able peace and security order in North East Africa is the absence of a
regional power order. This is partly linked to the lack of an established
regional power hierarchy, as reflected in the unfortunate geostrategic
situation of the Horn of Africa—a region lacking an internal hegemon,
but adjacent to Egypt. Ethiopia’s power is constrained by underdevel-
opment. However, Egypt is a country whose body is in Africa but
whose head is in the Arab world. The sub-region needs to reach an
agreement on whether a robust security community requires an inter-
351
state power order: some kind of constructive hegemon.44 Behind the

competition for regional hegemony is the long-standing conflict
between Cairo and Addis Ababa over the use of the Nile waters. The
contentious relations between the two are mainly historical and struc-
tural, but also deeply cultural and political. Conflicting myths and nar-
ratives compound this. Age-old strategic concerns such as control over
the Nile waters, a cause of major wars going back hundreds of years,
are still a major feature that continues to shape their respective posi-
tions and roles in the sub-region.
The EPRDF almost certainly sees the development of the Blue Nile
basin as critical, probably central, to the long-term economic salvation
of the country. This idea was quickly interpreted in Cairo as a threat
and it has endeavoured to block Ethiopian plans for development of
the Blue Nile basin waters. Egyptian policy towards Ethiopia and the
Nile issue has always been guided by a two-track strategy: the politics
of cooperation and the politics of destabilization.45 Egypt’s cooperative
engagement on negotiations does not preclude its multi-faceted hostile
actions against Ethiopia. Although Egyptian and Ethiopian leaders
have repeatedly proclaimed a new era of co-operation in the sharing of
Nile waters since 1991, Egypt has continued to fight hard to ensure
that Ethiopia does not receive international loans for major (and even
minor) water development projects. The Nile 2002 conferences and
other initiatives have gone some way to ease tensions and make clear
the gains to be made by all basin countries through co-operation, but
it is unlikely that Egyptian objections can be overcome and the logjam
broken without concerted regional pressure and the political will of the
international community led by the US. Egyptian supremacy over the

issue of the Nile is, however, dwindling and the tide is slowly turning
against Cairo.
In 1999 the ten Nile riparian countries established the Nile Basin
Initiative (NBI), the first cooperative institution in the basin to include
all ten riparian states. This was meant to be a precursor for real and
meaningful negotiations for a new legal and institutional regime for the
shared and equitable use of the Nile waters that is referred to as the
Cooperative Framework Agreement (CFA). However, the real negoti-
ation was between Ethiopia, Sudan and Egypt.46 To deal with the chal-
lenge Ethiopia deployed regional instruments, first cementing relations
with Khartoum and then galvanizing upper riparian countries for the
cause. Egypt’s internal problems and the decline of its regional influ-
352
ence, added to uneasy relations with Washington, seem to have helped

Ethiopia push the equitable share of the Nile waters as a major regional
agenda. In this it was supported by new developments in the sub-region
as well as its own resurgence in regional security affairs. The end of the
Cold War has been marked by some dramatic swings in regional and
international alignments in North-East Africa. The National Islamic
Front (NIF) leadership in Khartoum which came to power in a military
coup in 1989 increasingly distanced Sudan from Cairo and swiftly
began pursuing an aggressive Islamist-based foreign policy.
Indeed, Cairo became increasingly aggrieved by the emerging hostile
tendency of the new regimes in Khartoum, Asmara and Addis Ababa
towards its hegemonic postures. Some of them were Islamist, others
were nationalist; all of them were ideologically assertive (though there
have been some changes in this regard in recent years). From this per-
spective it is not surprising to see that Cairo’s hands have become
increasingly tied and its influence narrowed. Moreover, the new
regimes in the Horn were able to attract the attention of the US. After

the defeat of the Derg the US turned to the governments of Ethiopia

and Eritrea to provide regional stability as a bulwark against the
expansionist Islamist aims of the National Islamic Front (NIF) in
Sudan. After the second half of the 1990s Egyptian influence in the
Horn of Africa was at its lowest. It has lost ground and control in
Somali affairs and entered into antagonistic relations with Sudan.47
This was followed by new economic and political developments in the
countries of the region.
Increased political and economic stability in recent years has meant
that upstream countries were now in a position to develop the hydro-
power and irrigation potential of the Nile waters. In recent years, the
“collective” power of upstream countries has been greatly enhanced.
Many of them have continued to involve themselves in the process in
the belief that negotiations will bring about a new legal agreement or
the much-anticipated CFA as well as the much-needed financial invest-
ment by external donors for hydrological projects. The possibility of
securing alternative external support from non-traditional sources
(such as China) for Nile Basin projects compounded the new external
element. These led to an important shift in terms of bargaining powers
and not only in material terms. Moreover, upper riparian countries
have decided to use their collective voice and streamlined position to
get concessions from downstream countries, mainly Egypt. Ethiopia’s
353
quiet diplomacy has helped crystallize this common approach. The risk
of going alone and refusing to cooperate on the Nile issue has become
high for Egypt. Ethiopia has focused on creating a consensus in the
region that development of the Blue Nile basin has positive economic
and political spin-offs beyond Ethiopia, a position that would ulti-
mately convince the rest of Africa and the West. The hope is that the
US may come to discount Egypt’s position and accept Ethiopian argu-
ments that security in the Horn is ultimately dependent on develop-
ment, and that this is conditional upon fully developing the waters of
the Blue Nile basin.
With the turmoil in the Arab world and the alignment of forces in
East Africa, Egyptian influence has declined and this can be expected
to continue if the current political crisis in the country does not abate.
Moreover, the emergence of a stable and strong Ethiopia and an asser-
tive region means that the Americans may be less inclined to accept
Egypt as the regional hegemon in the Horn. Given the emerging com-
plications in the US-Egyptian relationship it is fair to assume that
Washington would be easily attracted by Ethiopia’s position as an
alternative source of stability in North-East Africa. Its peace-keeping
role around the region and effective use of its military for regional
security frameworks mean that it is a regional power that should be
taken seriously. Most important, Ethiopia has already begun to depend
on its relative economic strength to develop the Nile Basin and influ-
ence the outcome of negotiations. The building of the Grand Ethiopian
Renaissance Dam (GERD) started in April 2011, which would have
been inconceivable a few years ago, is a telling illustration of the shift-
ing balance of power in the sub-region in which Egypt is being increas-
ingly pushed into a defensive position.48
Ethiopia’s bold move to attempt such a grand scheme in the face of
Egyptian opposition and galvanize regional support for the NBI points
in one direction: its pivotal role in highly critical regional issues. By all
accounts the GERD could symbolize Ethiopia’s regional influence. It is
highly probable that Ethiopia will continue to galvanize regional
resources, ad hoc coalitions and Africa’s regional organizations to fur-
ther promote its position in a bid to thwart Egyptian obstructionism.
The recent suspension of Egypt by the AU from July 2013 to June
2014 could indeed be a blessing in disguise. Nonetheless, the fact that
the traditional proponents of the politics of destabilization within the
Egyptian political establishment (that is, Egyptian military intelligence)
354
have become the new masters of the Egyptian state since the 2011 rev-
olution, and the regrettable views of the top leadership towards Africa,
do not bode well for a peaceful resolution of the Nile issue.49 Increased
hostility and tension between Ethiopia and Egypt are very real.
Far more important will be Ethiopia’s economic influence in the
region over the next five to 10 years. In the next decade, Ethiopia will
become increasingly wealthy (at least relatively to its past) but politi-
cally insecure. It will therefore use some of its wealth to create visibil-
ity and a military force appropriate to protect its interests. Ethiopia
will not become the most powerful country in the next decade, but it
has no choice but to become a major regional power in the sub-region.
And that means it will clash with Egypt. The Ethio-Egyptian relation-
ship and the regional power order in North-East Africa remain a fault
line. Ethiopia is interested not in conquering or dominating the region,
but in ensuring its security along its borders and reasserting its influ-
ence. From the Ethiopian point of view, this is both a reasonable
attempt at establishing a minimal sphere of influence and—tradition-
ally—a defensive measure.
Abbink, Jon, 2003, “Ethiopia-Eritrea: Proxy Wars and Prospects of Peace in

the Horn of Africa”, Journal of Contemporary African Studies, 21 (3),
pp. 407–425.
Abdelwahab El-Affendi, 2009, “The Perils of Regionalism: Regional
Integration as a source of instability in the Horn of Africa”, Journal of
Intervention and Statebuilding, 3 (1), pp. 1–19.
Carlson, Jon D., 2011, “Externality and Incorporation in the World System:
Abyssinia—Anomaly or Palimpsest?” American Sociological Association, 17
(1), pp. 165–98.
Clapham, Christopher, 2009, “Post-war Ethiopia: the Trajectories of Crisis”,
Review of African Political Economy, 36, 120, pp. 181–92.
Connell, Dan, 2005, Conversations with Eritrean prisoners of War, Trenton,
NJ: The Red Sea Press.
Guzzini, Stefano, 1998, Realism in International Relations and International
Political Economy. The Continuing Story of a Death Foretold, London:
Routledge.
Healy, Sally, 2011, “Seeking Peace and Security in the Horn of Africa: the
Contribution of the Inter-Governmental Authority on Development”,
International Affairs, 87 (1), pp. 105–120.
ICG, 2003, Ethiopia and Eritrea: War or Peace? International Crisis Group,
Africa Report 68.
355
——— 2008, Beyond the Fragile Peace Between Ethiopia and Eritrea: Averting
New War, International Crisis Group, Africa Report 141.
——— 2008, Somalia: To Move Beyond the Failed State. International Crisis
Group, Africa Report 147.
——— 2010a, Sudan: Regional Perspectives on the Prospect of Southern
Independence. International Crisis Group, Africa Report 159.
——— 2010b, Eritrea: The Siege State. International Crisis Group, Africa
Report 163.
Iyob, Ruth, 1993, “Regional Hegemony: Domination and Resistance in the
Horn of Africa”, Journal of Modern African Studies, 31 (2), pp. 257–76.
——— 2000, “The Ethiopia-Eritrean Conflict: Diasporic vs. Hegemonic
States”, Journal of Modern African Studies, 38 (4), pp. 659–82.
Medhane Tadesse, 1999, The Eritrean-Ethiopian War: Retrospect and
Prospects: The Making of Conflicts in the Horn of Africa, 1991–1998,
Addis Ababa: Mega.
——— 2002, Al-Ittihad: Political Islam and Black Economy in Somalia:
Money, Religion, Clan and the Struggle for Supremacy over Somalia, Addis
Ababa: Mega.
——— 2004, Turning Conflicts to Cooperation: Towards Energy-led
Integration in the Horn of Africa, Addis Ababa: Friedrich Ebert Stiftung.
——— 2007, “The Conduct of Ethiopian Foreign Policy: From TPLF Political
Bureau to Meles Zenawi”, in K.G. Adar and P.J. Schraeder (eds),

Globalization and Emerging Trends in African Foreign Policy, vol. 2,

Washington, DC: University Press of America, pp. 53–70.
——— 2009, “UN Peace Keeping in the Horn: Problems & Prospects”, in
Adekeye Adebajo (ed.), From Global Apartheid to Global Village—Africa
and the United Nations, Scottsville: University of Kwazulu Natal Press.
Kidane Mengisteab, 2011, Critical Factors in the Horn of Africa’s Raging
Conflicts, Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet (Discussion Paper 67).
Reid, Richard (ed.), 2009, Eritrea’s External Relations: Understanding Its
Regional Role and Foreign Policy, London: Royal Institute of International
Affairs.
Sharamo, Roba and Berouk Mesfin (eds), 2011, Regional Security in the Post-
Cold War Horn of Africa, Pretoria: Institute for Security Studies (Mono
graph 178).
Thomas, Caroline and Wilkin, Peter (eds), 1999, Globalization, Human
Security and the African Experience, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner.
Woodward, Peter, 2003, The Horn of Africa: Politics and International
Relations, London: I.B. Tauris.
——— 2012, Crisis in the Horn of Africa: Politics, Piracy and the Threat of
Terror, London: I.B. Tauris.

356
14
THE ETHIOPIAN ECONOMY
THE DEVELOPMENTAL STATE VS. THE FREE MARKET

René Lefort
Is there an Ethiopian Economic Miracle?

When a visitor comes to Addis Ababa these days his first reaction is
one of shock. There are new roads, including modern four-lane free-
ways, running everywhere. New buildings, ranging from futuristic high
rises to more modest popular dwellings, are growing, and even a com-
bination tram/elevated railway is under construction, the first segment
of a serious mass transit system in any African capital. The speed and
ambition are prodigious. No other capital city on the continent has
known such fast-paced and extensive modernization over the last few
years. And similar processes are taking place in many provincial towns.
For any observer assessing Ethiopia from the angle of infrastructure
and physical development, everything in sight confirms the govern-
ment’s repeated claim of double-digit growth, the highest rate for a
non-oil-dependent African economy over the last eight years.1 As even
an opposition journalist had to admit, “the regime has been able to
357
crack the code of East Asia’s rise and download it into an Ethiopian
hardware.”2
But the mistake is that almost all observers limit themselves to this
obvious approach, which is blind to the realities of four-fifths of
Ethiopians—those who still struggle to eke out a living from tiny
undersize land holdings or “informal” activities. The Multidimensional
Poverty Index of 2011 puts Ethiopia just above Niger.3 The UNDP’s
Human Development Index (2011) ranks it 174th out of 187 countries,
a slight improvement over 2003 (169th out of 175).4 Ethiopia still needs
some form of emergency or recurring food aid every year to prevent
between ten and fifteen million Ethiopians (one in six or eight, mostly
peasants) from starving.5 And this proportion of assisted people has
remained stable over the last thirty years. In monetary terms the cost
of cereal imports has multiplied by three in ten years, going from 2 per
cent to 4 per cent of imports, measured in volume.6
So what are we to make of the apparent contradiction between a
sharply growing modern sector and the persistence of dire poverty
mainly among the peasants? The present regime can certainly be
praised for having finally managed to get the country moving—and
moving fast and energetically—after the twilight years of the Haile
Selassie regime followed by the catastrophe of the “communist” mili-
tary regime. Ethiopia is not an “underdeveloped block” any more:
islands of modernity have surfaced and its economy is now dual. But
this duality makes difficulties for statisticians.
Statistics are supposed to be the ultimate test of reality. But in
Ethiopia statistics are questionable and controversial. They are so opti-
mistic that international financial organizations have at times hesitated
and contradicted themselves—and contradicted their Ethiopian
sources—over short periods of time. A joint assessment made by the
IMF and the World Bank states that “staffs have not been able to con-
firm [the] very high growth rates reported in the official statistics (an
average 11 per cent per annum during 2004/5 and 2009/10)7 that
appear to significantly overstate actual growth. Staff estimates suggest
robust growth in the 7–8 per cent range”. In addition, “official GDP
growth rates imply productivity increases that appear implausible,
casting doubt on some aspects of national accounts compilation”.8 The
IMF reiterated its reservations in the years that followed.9 Agriculture
is particularly in the spotlight as official statistics purport to show that
grain production has tripled in fifteen years, which seems unrealistic.10
358
Two recent (confidential) studies from international cooperation orga-

nizations conclude that grain production has been exaggerated by
about 30 per cent.11 Even some of the results of the last census (in
2007)—for example those dealing with the very sensitive areas of eth-
nic and religious repartition—have been questioned. Ethiopia’s eco-
nomic progress is undeniable, but it is often difficult to give an accu-
rate quantitative measurement of it.
The early years of the new regime: the founding of a “party-state

led economy”
The inheritance of the Derg years. In 1991, when the Tigray People’s
Liberation Front (TPLF) finally crushed the Derg’s army, it inherited a
country devastated by seventeen years of civil wars and a “socialist
command economy”, which was even poorer than it had been in the
last years of the Empire. While agriculture accounted for two thirds of
GDP12 and nine tenths of the work force, its production per capita was
lower than during the last years of Haile Selassie’s reign.13
The Derg’s land reform of 1975 was among the most radical that
had ever been attempted in the world. Land confiscated from “feudal
landlords” was equitably redistributed to peasant households, along
with a non-transmissible right of usufruct. Land could not be rented
and hired labour was forbidden. Peasant Associations were turned into
a kind of local administration, in charge, inter alia, of implementing
the land reform.14 But they were left with very little autonomy by a
strongly authoritarian government which tried to extract more and
more from the countryside in order to wage its wars. As in other
socialist countries, the regime imposed production quotas and fixed
prices. At the same time the Derg neglected subsistence farmers, put-
ting most of its resources into Soviet–style Sovkhozes (state-owned
farms), which completely failed. By the mid-1980s famine and peasant
sabotage had forced the government to backtrack: free market sales
were allowed, land renting became possible and inheritance of the usu-
fruct right was re-established. But it was too little too late.
In 1991, industrial and service sectors made up only 12 per cent and
23 per cent of GDP respectively.15 The private sector was tiny. 48 per
cent of construction, 72 per cent of transport and communications, 89
per cent of industry and mining, and 100 per cent of electricity, bank-
ing and insurance companies were in the hands of the state, which had
proved to be a very bad manager.16
359
“Development is first of all a political process”. Another problem came

from the fact that the winning TPLF was itself a radical neo-Maoist
pro-Albanian Marxist movement.17 But with the fall of the Berlin Wall
the world had changed, and the TPLF changed radically, almost over-
night—at least in public. Meles Zenawi, then TPLF Chairman,18
declared that he was “no longer a hard-line Marxist” and would from
now on “work for free enterprise”.19 But this seems to have been a
largely tactical move designed to gain the support of the Western pow-
ers. Inwardly, the leadership remained deeply influenced by Marxism
and Leninist “democratic centralism”, which fitted perfectly into
the age-old Abyssinian culture of hierarchy and submission. This

Weltanschauung tended to provide the basis for new economic policies,

and probably still does. The lingering imprint of the command economy
was first evident in two important documents from 1993, which were
later softened in their formulation by Meles Zenawi himself.20
The supreme goal was still to push forward “revolutionary democ-
racy”, in short to promote “the rights of the masses”. Hence the party
line that “development is first of all a political process”. The party
retained the image of a “vanguard party”, which made it the one and
only organization with the legitimacy and capacity to take the funda-
mental decisions in any field, including that of the economy. Some
Ethiopia specialists have even argued that the fusion between the state
and the ruling party has led to the practical hegemony “of a monolithic
party-state”.21 Though the regime stated at its inception that the econ-
omy should be “driven by market forces”, in reality these “market
forces” have been led and operated by one force, the party-state. After
the “command economy” of the Derg, a kind of “party-state led econ-
omy” was put in place. And this is still the way things operate today,
in the broad scheme of global economic systems.
The TPLF considered that Ethiopia was at a “pre-capitalist stage”.
And it still considers that the market suffers from “multiples failures”
and that “the major free market economy forces are not fully
matured”.22 Adopting the “neo-liberal paradigm” (the “Washington
consensus”) and even “a classical liberal economy” by “allowing the
market to rule” would lead to a “dead end”. That is, “shackling the
state” to the point of rendering it “non-activist and non-intervention-
ist”—reducing it to “a night watchman state”—while “unleashing the
market” in the hope that it would “self-correct its own failures” would
ultimately “reach a dead end”. So the interventions of the so-called
360
“developmental state” are vital “to fill the deficit of the market … so
as to create a conducive platform for developmentalism.”23 Only a
developmental state, which should be “strong” and “independent of
the private sector”, will be able “to build the physical and institutional
environment and to change the rules of the game” in order to ensure
“the survival of Ethiopia as a nation”.24
This “state leadership role” has four main elements:
(a) “The commanding heights of the economy will be owned by the
government”.25 If these cannot be kept under state monopoly,
“arrangements should be made in which the State will have a
higher share”. So the developmental state will be able to intervene
as much as possible in the branches that need to be developed but
from which the private sector, national and international, “shies
away”.
(b) In order to bring the market to maturity and because the “national
bourgeoisie wants to promote its interests at the expense of the
people”, the private sector should be “directed”, “guided”, “disci-
plined”, “motivated”. So the state will “hold an upper hand in the
processes of the private enterprises”. It must “have the ability and
will to reward and punish the private sector actors” in order to
lead them from their preference for short-term selfish enrichment
to participation in the country’s long term development.
(c) The same applies to international actors. And if “we have no
choice but to give access to foreign capital”, it should never be
allowed “to twist the state’s arms”.
(d) The mass of mostly “backward”, “uneducated” and “unorganized”
peasants need a “strong revolutionary democratic leadership” in
order to develop.26 No alternative to a “top down approach” has
ever been considered,27 and compulsory labour is still presented as
“voluntary contributions”28 to local infrastructure projects (roads,
schools, health centres, reforestation). But how is it possible to rec-
oncile the “strength” of this leadership with its supposedly “dem-
ocratic” character? The key word is “participation”. But “partici-
pation” is limited to that which will “convince and … mobilize”
social forces, and they are allowed at most “to bring some adjust-
ments” to decisions coming from above.29
These dogmas are not only still in place, they have never been
discussed.
361
1991’s ambiguous liberalization. To keep the “commanding heights of

the economy” in the hands of the state, privatization excluded whole
areas. First of all, land was not privatized,30 because otherwise “the
peasants will be forced to sell their land when they face hardship and
then they will enter a state of poverty from which they can never
[escape]”.31 Key sectors were kept in the state’s hands, especially the
banking, insurance, communication and electricity sectors. In other
cases, public companies were “privatized”, but with some restrictions.
The state kept control of parastatals through “endowments” managed
by the Relief Society of Tigray (REST), the humanitarian arm of the
TPLF during the war, which in 1995 gave birth to a conglomerate
known as the Endowment Fund for the Rehabilitation of Tigray
(EFFORT). All the key positions were in the hands of Tigrean officials
and the general management remained assigned to a high-ranking TPLF
member. This form of control “len[t] credibility to the popular percep-
tion that the ruling party and its members were drawing on endowment
resources to fund their own interests or for personal gain”.32
The first version of ADLI (Agricultural Development-Led

Industrialization)
Agriculture as the cornerstone of development. The EPRDF (Ethiopian
People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front) internal document (1993)
that presented the economic strategy of the new regime remained in line
with the Albanian approach of armed struggle.33 It stated that “in the
struggle for our revolutionary democratic goals” “our main enemies are
imperialism and the comprador class”, while the “upper stratum … of
the national bourgeoisie” and even of the “urban petty bourgeoisie …
are antagonistic to our political goals”. But, it added, recent “major
changes around the world” force us to “make a few adjustments” so as
to avoid “the mobilization of imperialist forces against us”, but “with-
out doing away with the pillars of our Revolutionary Democracy”.
Considering that the export led and import substitution strategies of
the two former regimes had failed, the TPLF reckoned that “an econ-
omy based on foreign markets … becomes dependant on imperial-
ism”.34 “The role of external forces can only be complementary to
those of internal forces”.35 The key terms became “independent devel-
opment”, “self reliance” and “national market”. Thus, development
should rely first on “an extensive use of the natural resources and man-
362
power of the country”. This meant that the “rural development strat-
egy … is not dependent on capital and technology”.36 The centrality of
the tens of millions of small holders/subsistence farmers became obvi-
ous. “Agriculture should be the starting point—the cornerstone—for
initiating the structural transformation of the economy”. The rallying
cry of this strategy was a “broad-based growth process involving
smallholder farmers”.37
The first aim was to alleviate the extreme rural poverty that existed
by achieving individual food self-sufficiency for all farmers. The regime
wanted the mass of farmers to progress at an even pace in order to
enable “a structural transformation in the productivity of peasant agri-
culture”; without this, “economic progress will remain a myth”.38
Paradoxically, agriculture, although impeded by its own low produc-
tivity, was seen as having the highest development potential. Its trans-
formation was to be based on the “agricultural extension package”,
which was to provide farmers with new inputs (fertilizers, seeds, etc.)
and train them to use these inputs efficiently; followed by a mobiliza-
tion of the work force through its “organization”.39
The regime’s motivation was perhaps more political than economic.
In a country where the industrial proletariat had always been a tiny
minority, the TPLF could not base its rule on anybody but the most
numerous and poorest class in the country, the class which had been
most exploited and which had given its blood to overthrow the Derg—
the peasant class.
Agriculture as a launching pad for industry. But agricultural growth

was not seen as the ultimate aim. An “interdependent”, “mutually sup-
portive” objective was also “to streamline and reconstruct the manu-
facturing sector … so that it makes extensive use of the country’s nat-
ural resources in order to reduce dependence on external sources, and
manpower” and “expands domestic markets for goods and services”.40
Agriculture was therefore seen as a launching pad for industrialization.
This strategy had a name: Agricultural Development Led Industrializa
tion (ADLI).
The rise in agricultural productivity, it was thought, would lead to an
increase in the marketed surplus, first nationally and then for export.
The most successful peasants would see their buying power increase
and as a result would be able to buy basic consumer goods. This
demand would lead to the emergence of simple industries, which would
363
offer employment opportunities to the rural labour force, which would

have to leave the land since productivity gains would mean fewer
labourers would be required. Among the industries envisioned were sev-
eral that would not only produce basic manufactured goods but also
provide products for agriculture, such as fertilizers, pesticides, seeds and
so on. Locally produced, these agricultural components would be
cheaper than imported ones and would lead to a new rise in agricultural
productivity which would in turn lead to more demand for industrial
products. The virtuous circle of growth would be set in motion.
Private actors were considered to be incidental to this virtuous cir-
cle, and their operations were regarded with suspicion. They should
only bring “a supplementary input in the economic sectors in which
the State cannot be directly involved”. The state must always “strive
to control” them.
This “endogenous” development strategy, with its overall embrace
of public power, its enormous amount of party-state activity, its tight
control, its high degree of centralism focusing on the traditional peas-
antry, its systematic marginalization of private enterprise, was a unique
approach to development.
The “renewal”: a radically new approach, the same modalities

Two political shocks. By the beginning of the 2000s it had become
obvious that ADLI was not working. Agricultural output per capita
was still roughly the same as in the last few years of the Derg and less
than in the last years of the imperial regime.41 GDP was lower than at
the end of the Derg (around $8bn against $12bn).42 In 2002–3 bad
rains had brought the food shortages to the same level as those of the
1984–5 famine. Massive deaths were avoided only because the emer-
gency system was much better than seventeen years before. Industry
was still not taking off,43 exports had stagnated and the balance of pay-
ment remained in deficit.44 The time had come for reassessment.
This realization was triggered by two major political shocks. The
April 2001 regime crisis was the most serious internal rift the TPLF
had faced since its birth twenty-five years before and it eventually
resulted in Meles Zenawi’s absolute political supremacy.45 Then, four
years later, the regime became convinced that it could win free and fair
elections because it assumed that the mass of poor farmers was basi-
cally sympathetic to it. But many rural voters followed their local lead-
364
ers who had decided to support the opposition because they rejected
the authoritarianism of the regime, its harsh intrusions into their daily
life, and what they considered to be its bias in favour of the Tigreans.
The push of the opposition seriously shook up the regime.46 Faced with
poor economic results, significant disapproval in the countryside and
crushing defeat in the towns during the election, the regime decided to
completely review its perennially intertwined economic and political
strategy. This is what became known as Tehadeso (Renewal).
ADLI’s second version. The first reaction to the 2005 shock was a
strong reassertion of the regime’s political hegemony.47 The previous
discourse of political legitimacy based on “democratization” sank into
further discredit. A new basis for legitimacy had to be found, and the
party decided this would be the promise of massive economic growth.
Meles Zenawi—who boasted an MBA from the Open University of
the United Kingdom (1995) and a MSc in Economics from the Erasmus
University of the Netherlands (2004)—summarized his new vision as
follows: in the age of globalization “it is impossible to limit and to hide
from merciless competition”. One must either “survive by inserting
oneself in this competition” or “perish” like the African countries
which had tried to duck the issue. “Ethiopia has no choice except
employing free market economy.”48 This was a major aggiornamento.
To succeed in this “insertion”, the peasant masses were now seen as
less useful than the most advanced actors, the “new entrepreneurs”
and “constructive investors” active in agriculture, industry and the ser-
vice sector. The private sector had remained embryonic so far because
it was discriminated against. Businessmen were seen as capitalists
exploiting the working masses: “There was suspicion of putting trust
in the private sectors”.49
From now on these “new entrepreneurs” were going to be consid-
ered the engine of economic growth. A sort of trade-off set in: this
social class had so far been chilly towards the EPRDF and the govern-
ment thought this change of direction would warm up its attitude
towards the party. The deal was implicit: stop politicking and we’ll
help you get rich. The party-state promised it was going to finally
release its pressure on the private sector and entrepreneurial farmers.
This U-turn set up two opposing camps. On one side were the “new
entrepreneurs”; on the other side were the “rent seekers” who were
fighting against the rise of the free market in order to keep benefiting
from the rent accruing to them “from their official position in the gov-
365
ernment” or from “their patron-client relationship with office holders”

or even from “their corrupt relationship with officials”.50 To bring the
free market to maturity “the struggle of the revolutionary democrats is
to replace the rent seeking political economy by developmental and
democratic political economy”.51 This same antagonism superimposed
itself on the opposition between democratic and anti-democratic
forces: the rent seekers could only operate in the absence of transpar-
ency and accountability, two pillars of democracy. In that way, the rise
of a market economy and the march towards democracy would be one
and the same thing, fusing into what Meles Zenawi called “develop-
mentalist democracy”.52
This was a genuine change of tack: the market, both national and
international, became the alpha and omega of development. Since
1991 it had been mostly endogenous, based on getting the masses of
small farmers to feed themselves through public support. From now
on, development was going to be led by a minority—the economic
upper class—who would essentially work for the market. And the
approach also switched from endogenous to exogenous. But this
U-turn did not mean that the basic rules of a market economy would
be put in place. The way towards progress dramatically changed but
the same mechanism was retained to propel the country forward: the
authoritarian leadership of the ever-present party-state.
The “model farmers”. The “leftist wing” of the ruling party was

blamed for Ethiopia’s agricultural failures, and its members were
expelled.53 This group had advocated “detaching the farmer from com-
mercialisation”.54 It was now felt that there was “an urgent need to
change from this hand to mouth mode of production approach to a
market led one”.55 The main goal was “to capture the private initiative
of farmers” so as “to intensify the marketable farm products”.56 This
was important because sufficient means were not available to support
the poor farming masses: “We can’t afford to give new technology to
all of the 12 million rural households in Ethiopia,” a high-ranking offi-
cial declared later.57 Even though “agriculture first” remained the driv-
ing slogan, it was not the same agriculture, nor the same peasants who
were now the core target.
The priority now was to focus on the rural elite while abandoning
the broader peasant masses to market forces: “Those who take advan-
tage of them will prosper, and the rest will lose mercilessly.”58 The
upper tier, now promoted to the role of “model farmers”, would get
366
the main thrust of public help (access to new techniques, training and
fertilizers) and would be relatively free from the former party-state
constraints so as to fully allow its entrepreneurial spirit to flourish. But
in return it would have to join the ruling party, give up any sign of
political opposition and thus neutralize local expressions of rural dis-
sent. As a consequence the ruling party started to grow enormously,
and has at present (2013) nearly five million members, compared with
around 700,000 before 2005. Its triumphs in the local elections of
2008 and the general election of 2010 are evidence of how efficient
this “neutralization process” has been.59
The financial tools. Since the dip of 2000–3, which was caused by the
Eritrean-Ethiopian War and climate difficulties, economic growth has
jumped to heights never before known in the country, with an annual
rate of growth of at least 7.3 per cent over the last eight or nine years.60
This growth was fuelled by three financial resources: the national
budget, international aid and diaspora remittances. Together, these
represent about a third of GDP. Qualitatively speaking, the various

administrative authorities used that money with a mixture of resolve,

efficiency, integrity and clear-sightedness that had no equivalent any-
where else in Africa.
The developmental state fully played its role. Out of a federal bud-
get representing roughly a fifth of GDP ($7.7bn61 out of around $35bn
estimated for the year 2012–13), roughly two thirds has been devoted
to what the government calls “poverty reduction programmes”, which
mainly target rural areas. They are divided roughly into three equal
parts: food security and agriculture; health and education; and basic
infrastructure (mostly roads, with a smaller outlay on water and elec-
tricity). When the authorities and international donors say that few
African governments, if any, have ever done so much for the peasantry,
this is the absolute truth.
How was this financed? The budget contributed, but a lot of money
was also “created” by widely opening up banking credit and by print-
ing money. It worked, but the downside was the start of the inflation
nightmare (see below). In addition, there was a fairly large amount of
foreign aid. Following the repression that accompanied the 2005 elec-
tion, donors briefly reduced their disbursement. But the aid that was
withdrawn from direct lending to the federal state soon resumed
through the back door of monetary transfers directly disbursed to
367
regional authorities. In 2010 the Net Development Assistance received

was around $3.5bn, roughly 12 per cent of GDP, and development
finance represented around a third of the national budget. It had dou-
bled during the course of the last five years.62 The United States was
the largest contributor, followed by the United Kingdom and the
European Union.63 In absolute terms, Ethiopia was the second-largest
beneficiary of international aid, right behind Afghanistan. But, relative
to population size, Ethiopia was among the lowest recipients in sub-
Saharan Africa.64 The Protection of Basic Services programme finances
mainly schools (53 per cent), agriculture (21 per cent), health (15 per
cent) and roads at the district (woreda) level, for a total amount of
about $1bn a year, largely financed by donors.65 The Productive Safety
Net Programme handed out cash or “food for work” to seven or eight
million Ethiopians, at a yearly cost of around $300m.66
As for the diaspora, which is estimated at an upper range of 1.5 to
2 million people (who live mostly in the United States), it provides an
estimated gross yearly income in the vicinity of $20bn.67 At first it only
sent money to family and friends in the old country. But over the years
it slowly began to take note of the incentives to invest and answer the
siren calls that the regime was aiming at it. But being mostly close to
the political opposition, the diaspora kept away from the EPRDF, both
for political reasons and because it resented the heavily bureaucratic
economic approach of the regime. But slowly things began to ease and
the diaspora progressively moved into investing in a variety of busi-
nesses and building or purchasing retirement homes. A large amount
of the building boom of these last few years seems to have been
financed by diaspora money, in amounts that are still hotly debated,
ranging from about $1bn (in the estimation of the National Bank of
Ethiopia) to the much higher figure of more than $3bn (estimated by
of the World Bank).68
Major achievements. The high level of these resources, combined with

their efficient use, has led to the successes the government loves to
boast about. Officially, Ethiopia has developed at an exceptional
rate, with a 10.6 per cent average annual rate of growth between 2004

and 2011.69
The service sector has been the most dynamic sector. It represents
today almost half of GDP (46 per cent in 2010), more than agriculture
(which was 41 per cent in 2010). It is that sector’s growth (13.8 per
368
cent on average over the last seven years) that has fed the general
growth.70 The contribution of agriculture to global GDP has steadily
shrunk. In 2004, out of the 11.7 per cent GDP growth, 2.4 per cent
came from services and 7.7 per cent came from agriculture. But by
2011 these proportions had been inverted: of that year’s 11.4 per cent
GDP growth, 4.7 per cent came from agriculture and 5.3 per cent came
from services.71 The service sector has been mostly supported by
growth in the financial sector, and in the real estate, hotel and tourism
industries.72 Tourism, which started from practically zero after years
of war and instability, is steadily growing (around 600,000 visitors in
2012 provided an income of about $500m).73
But industry still lags behind. Its annual rate of growth looked quite
high at 10 per cent over the last seven years; but this is a deceptive fig-
ure since it started from a very low baseline. The leading sectors are
construction, electricity and water, but the manufacturing sector still
constitutes barely 5 per cent of GDP.74
Expenditure on infrastructure goes mostly on road building, a key
element in trade. Since 1991, Ethiopia’s road density has expanded
from 17 km per 1,000 km2 to 48.1 per 1,000 km2,75 at a cost of nearly
$3.6bn over the last ten years.76
Electrical production has multiplied by three from 700 Mw in 2005
to 2,000 Mw in 2010,77 mostly through a steadily increasing use of the
country’s massive hydroelectric potential. The number of consumers
connected grew from 800,000 in 2005, to more than 2 million in
2011.78 But supply is still insufficient for a population of roughly 95
million and power cuts keep seriously hampering industrial production.
There are giant projects in the offing, ranging from the Gibe III and IV
dams on the Omo River (planned outputs: 1,870 and 2,000 Mw respec-
tively) to the Grand Renaissance Dam on the Blue Nile (see below).
Telecoms are something of a mixed bag. While the growth of the
sector has been important over the last ten years (Ethiopian Telecom
Company serves 15 million subscribers), fixed line access (at 1 per cent
of population) and internet access (at 0.9 per cent of population) are
still way too low. Relative to population size, these figures are still the
lowest among Sub-Saharan African countries (as of 2011).79 In a dis-
play of the control mentality that tends to underscore all public policy
in Ethiopia, the government has stubbornly refused to open the field to
the private sector, arguing that private investors would neglect the
rural areas, an explanation which hardly makes any sense.
369
The spheres of health and education have seen much more creditable
achievements, with a net primary school enrolment rate of 86 per cent
compared to 52 per cent five years ago.80 264,000 primary school
teachers have been hired in 2005–9,81 and 34,000 health extension
workers were deployed, so that there should now be a minimum of at
least two trained workers in every health post in every kebele.82 The
infant mortality rate has halved over the last twenty years and in rural
areas nearly two thirds of the population now have access to drinking
water, compared to 24 per cent in 2000.83
This progress is usually summarized by quoting one central statistic:
the percentage of the population living below the poverty line ($0.6 per
day) has decreased from 44 per cent ten years ago to 30 per cent (that
is, from 28 to 25 million people). As with all these statistics, this
should be taken carefully, but the general trend is there. The problem
is that today, since inflation is hitting this group particularly hard, it
may have halted or even reversed, and the absolute number of poor
people might be on the increase again.
Agriculture is still lagging behind. Agriculture, which was supposed to

be the engine of development, has had only a 9.2 per cent average rate
of annual growth, lower than the GDP rate. In addition, its GDP share
diminishes every year, having shrunk from 11.2 per cent in 2004–6 to
7.7 per cent in 2009–11. Its average annual contribution to GDP
growth over the last seven years has been only 4.2 per cent.84
While there is no doubt that “the [Ethiopian government] appears
committed to developing the largest agricultural extension system in
Sub Saharan Africa”,85 the official figures measuring that effort are
ambiguous. Quite clearly there have been large amounts of training.
Around 50,000 Agricultural Extension Agents have taken up posts
throughout almost all of the rural kebeles.86 But there is a Farmer
Training Centre in only one kebele out of two (a total of 9,000),87 and
these often do not have the necessary equipment that would allow
them to fully play their role.88 In addition, the use of modern agricul-
tural inputs does not seem to have played the role it was supposed to.
There are not enough selected seeds, fertilizers are sold at prohibitive
prices and limited credit constrains their use. The problem is exacer-
bated by the fact that their massive cost does not always lead to pro-
ductivity increases that would justify the expense.89 Fertilizer use has
gone up from 271,000 tons in 2003 to a little more than 400,000 tons
370
in 2011, and less than half the farmers actually use it. Selected seeds,
used in only 3 per cent of the cultivated land, stagnate at around
20,000 tons per year.90 Nevertheless, if the official figures were cor-
rect, Ethiopia would have experienced the fastest “Green Revolution”

in the world.
If we start with the surge of the economy in 2003, every crop year
since then has been, at least according to the statistics, a “bumper har-
vest”, outpacing the record set the previous year, whatever the climate.
Cereal and pulse production increased from a range of 8 to 9 million
tons at the end of the 1990s to 25 millions tons in 2012, a threefold
increase91—a figure which is hard to believe. Coffee production has
risen from 170,000 to 360,000 tons (in 2011) over the last ten years,92
which makes Ethiopia the fifth largest producer in the world and the
largest in Africa.
Ethiopia remains an essentially rural country. At 17 per cent, the
proportion of Ethiopians living in urban areas is one of the lowest in
Africa.93 Agriculture still represents roughly half of GDP (46 per cent,
compared to a 12 per cent average for sub-Saharan Africa).94 Two
thirds of agriculture’s value comes from cereals and leguminous plants,
and a fourth comes from cattle (Ethiopia has the largest herd on the
continent, with slightly more than 100 million cattle, sheep and goat).95
Agriculture employs 82 per cent of the active population and provides
more than 85 per cent of exports.96 13 million households share 13
million hectares but over half (56 per cent) cultivate less than 0.5 ha
each.97 Demographic growth (2.6 per cent per year) and very high den-
sities in fertile areas (over 500 people per km2 on the plateau) contrib-
ute to permanent land hunger. Commercial farms (3 per cent of
national production) are only playing a marginal role in terms of grain
output but occupy an important role for sugar and coffee.98
Some of the lowest agricultural incomes in the world. To be realistic,

the main cause of low agricultural production in Ethiopia is its very
harsh natural environment. Erosion and soil exhaustion make the land
less and less productive, particularly in the central highlands but also
now, progressively, in the western and south-western peripheries,
which used to produce a regular yearly surplus. Three fourths of the
highlands have gradients of at least 30 per cent. Communities tend to
be very isolated and the average walking time to an all-weather road is
four hours.99 Irrigation is rare (only 1.3 per cent of all cultivated lands
371
are irrigated)100 and the use of fertilizers is limited (about thirty kilos
per cultivated hectare).101 High yield seeds are rarely used. Most farm-
ers have almost no capacity to invest in improvements, which makes
for the perpetuation of primitive agricultural techniques. This results
in very low productivity and high dependence on weather conditions.
Too much or too little rain, falling too early or too late, and ordinary
plant blights can all spell disaster. Global average yields for cereals
(maize, wheat or teff)102 are at around 16 quintals per hectare,103 com-
pared with 60 to 100 in developed economies. The net income of a
“rich” peasant household104 is around $1,000 per year. But in “poor”
peasant households income, including self-consumed production, can
be as low as $200 per year. Three fourths of the Ethiopians who are
victims of severe poverty live in the countryside.105
Into the future

The Growth and Transformation Plan (GTP) (2010/11 to 2014/
15).106 “Above all, Meles’ policies were delivering results”.107 Based on
this simple assessment, the regime opted to shift not its approach but
its targets. The Growth and Transformation Plan, which covers the
years 2010/11 to 2014/15, displays ambition that could be seen as
verging on hubris: it projects a base case scenario of an 11.2 per cent
yearly rate of growth, and hopes for a 14.9 per cent rate (its high case
scenario), that is, a doubling of GDP in five years. No country in the
world has ever reached that performance in normal circumstances.
For agriculture, the aim is to more than double main crop produc-
tion (+219 per cent). “We have devised a plan which will enable us to
produce surplus and be able to feed ourselves by 2015 without the
need for food aid,” declared Prime Minister Meles Zenawi.108 It is
planned that export values for coffee will quadruple, oilseeds and flow-
ers will triple, and pulses be multiplied by seven.
But the lion’s share of the growth will go to industry, which the gov-
ernment expects to expand twice as fast as any other sector, at 21.3 per
cent per year, ending with an annual increase of 27.9 per cent in 2015
(high case scenario). Its share of GDP should rise from around 13 per
cent at present to at least 19 per cent in five years. So in terms of a
political economy paradigm, the GTP exacerbates the reorientation
that took place in the move from ADLI 1 to ADLI 2. Indeed, although
national planners keep ritualistically mentioning that the future econ-
372
omy has to include a “modern and productive agricultural sector with

enhanced technology”, they now insist that industrialization has to
play “a leading role”. This means that exports should significantly
contribute to growth: as a percentage of GDP they should more than
triple in five years (from 10 per cent to 31 per cent). Implicitly (and
sometimes explicitly), official documents point in the direction of a
development strategy that would no longer directly target the most vul-
nerable Ethiopians. The improvement of their situation is now
expected to be indirect, coming as a consequence of economic growth
driven by other actors and sectors.
Particular attention is paid to small and medium-sized enterprises
(SME): “they are the foundation for the establishment and expansion
of medium and large scale industries, and open opportunities for
employment generation, expansion of urban development, and provide
close support for further agricultural development.” One of the main
aims is to create jobs for the 2 to 2.5 million young Ethiopians who
arrive each year on the labour market and whom traditional agriculture
cannot always employ.109 The unemployment rate is steadily increasing.
It was officially 9 per cent in 2000 and seems (unofficially) to have
reached 20 per cent in 2010,110 and is as high as 50 per cent among the
young urban population.111 Meanwhile annual growth in manufactur-
ing jobs has been a modest 4 per cent over the last three years.112
Concerning infrastructure, the government’s targets are: to double
the rate at which it builds new roads; to build 2,400 km of railway
lines; to increase output of hydro power by five times; to increase the
number of users of mobile phones by four times; and to increase the
number of internet customers by twenty times. In the social sector, the
targets are: a 100 per cent primary school net enrolment rate; a dou-
bling of the secondary school gross enrolment rate; a 2.5 per cent
increase in university student numbers; drinking water access for 100
per cent of the population; and primary health services coverage for
100 per cent of the population. Total Poverty Head Count (as a per-
centage of population) should drop from 29 per cent to 22 per cent.
The aim is to achieve all of this within five years.
The Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD). The symbol of the

government’s ambitions is the construction of the “Grand Ethiopian
Renaissance Dam” on the Blue Nile. Its cost is estimated at $6bn,
and the aim is to produce 5,250 Mw.113 It will be the largest dam in

373
Africa and the tenth largest in the world. It will roughly triple
Ethiopia’s electricity production and will enable it to export power to
Sudan and Egypt.
But the project has suffered from serious problems ever since it
began. First, it created diplomatic tension with Egypt, which is worried
about the dam’s impact on the flow of water to the Egyptian Nile, an
issue that is loaded with geopolitical danger. Second, the contract allo-
cation formula is opaque. Third, there is an absence of serious impact
studies. Finally, financing is lagging behind. All of this has left Ethiopia
in a delicate and isolated position. A gigantic fundraising campaign has
been undertaken under the slogan: “Ethiopians at home and abroad
should come together for the realization of the Great Millennium
Dam”.114 The public has been persistently asked to subscribe to gov-
ernments bonds, which have a yield much lower than the inflation rate.
All civil servants had to “voluntarily” give up one month’s salary in
2011. Private banks have been ordered to contribute by giving 27 per
cent of their loans to the government at the pitifully low interest rate
of 3 per cent.115 With these “below market rates figures, this is tanta-
mount to a tax on banks, and ultimately households that deposit
money in the banks.”116
Can all this be taken at face value? The GTP seems to be in the spirit
the Maoist Great Leap Forward. In spite very high rates of growth, the
targets of the preceding two plans were far from having been achieved
and the strategy of agricultural growth leading to industrialization was
unsuccessful. But it seems that the regime’s thinking was that higher
targets—even if they are unrealistic—lead to a deeper and more radi-
cal mobilization and are therefore worth pursuing even if the hope of
achieving them is dim.
Large land transfers: a golden opportunity? Since 2008 a process of

large land transfers has been underway. The aim is to expand mecha-
nized agriculture using foreign financial investment in order to increase
the production of marketable exports.117 The initial impetus was the
government’s realization that the rise in world agricultural prices and
the growth in biofuel use had created a vast global demand for arable
land. The Ethiopian periphery, populated by nomads and marginal
ethnic groups conquered by the Abyssinians at the end of the nine-
teenth century, began to look like an El Dorado, with millions of
“virgin” or “empty” or at least “under-utilized” hectares.118 3.5 million
hectares have already been allocated, most of it to foreign investors,
374
with some of them acquiring up to 500,000 hectares at a time.119 The

target was “to transfer nearly 3.3 million ha of land to commercial
farming investors in a transparent and accountable manner” by
2015.120 Investors from India and the Arabian Peninsula got most of it,
followed by those from developed countries such as the United
Kingdom, Italy, the US and Israel.121
The land was leased on a long-term basis for up to ninety-nine years
at $1 per hectare per year at the beginning. The minimum lease has
recently been raised to $8, still a very low figure.122 By contract the
land tenant acquires an unlimited right to water and underground
resources. The expulsion and eventual compensation of residents is to
be carried out by the Ethiopian government.123 Contracts include gen-
erous tax exemptions and large credit facilities that are often linked to
the proportion of produce that is exported. This shows that despite the
government’s claims to the contrary, this programme is not really
aimed at working towards food self-sufficiency. The obligations of
investors towards environmental protection and local infrastructure
are often very slight. Moreover “there are no laws, regulations or
directives in place that are clearly articulated to ensure benefit sharing
between the investor and the public”.124 The state lacks the necessary
tools for controlling these large operations, and “benefit sharing mech-
anisms as well as environmental and social safeguards are virtually
absent”.125 Some observers have gone as far as to call this process
“land grabbing” and even “the great land give away”.126 In their opin-
ion “the damage done … outweighs the benefits gained”.127 Finally,
these critics highlight a central paradox in the land transfer policy:
The government of one of the most vulnerable countries in the world is
handing over vast land and water resources to foreign investors to help the
food security efforts of their home countries, or to gain profits for their
companies, without making adequate safeguards and without taking into
account the food security needs of its own people.128
The authorities respond by talking about “win win agreements”,

made “on the basis of clearly set out lease arrangements … to make
sure everybody will benefit from this exercise”.129 Five benefits are usu-
ally mentioned: job creation, infrastructure development, technology
transfers, growth of internal agricultural production, and improvement
of the balance of payments through increased exports.
Only the future will tell whether these benefits will be realized. The
GTP does not mention any expected figure for financial returns.
375
Average agricultural returns with exports of around 50 per cent of

what is produced would bring returns of nearly $10bn yearly. Given
the structurally weak balance of payments and a GDP of around
$30bn, this revenue may look attractive, but only a marginal share of
the money (the part of the earnings that are not transferable abroad)
would actually remain in Ethiopian banks.
Then why is there such an enthusiasm on the part of the govern-
ment? The deep underlying reasons can probably be found in the
ongoing transformation of the former revolutionary leadership into an
elite group, concentrating in its own hands not only political power
but also economic assets.130 And, strategically speaking, this “land
grab” has probably been seen as a golden opportunity to achieve
quickly the supreme target: that of inserting Ethiopia into the world
market. To such criticisms, Areba Deressa, then Minister of Agricul
ture, simply answered: “We cannot afford to close our doors to the
global economy.”131
The potential of mining. The other domain where Ethiopia still retains
a high potential for rapid growth is the mining sector. International
demand is huge and there are funds ready to be invested. Even though
hopes centred on oil and gas have never materialized for security rea-
sons, gold has provided high returns with exports worth $485m in
2011,132 a 1,000 per cent increase over the last ten years. Annual gold
exports have now reached $550m and should soon exceed coffee
exports. Considerable deposits of tantalum and phosphates have been
discovered. The government has issued fifty-four exploration permits
in 2011 compared to only fifteen in 2006. “The prospect of reaching
$1.36bn in annual mining exports by 2014/15 (and $1.8bn for all min-
erals) is thus very much within the realm of the possible.”133
The GTP’s weaknesses and associated risks

There are three major weaknesses that make the GTP vulnerable.
(1) The balance of trade. Goods and services exports represented 11
per cent of GDP in 2010, against 15 per cent five years before.134 They
just provide enough money to pay for the oil import bill. The gross
percentage of exports in relation to GDP is only one third of the Sub-
Saharan average, down to one eighth if this proportion is calculated on
a per capita basis.135 Meanwhile imports represent 33 per cent of
GDP,136 resulting in a negative balance of trade amounting to around
376
one sixth of GDP, close to the whole national budget. This is evidently
not sustainable. So the GTP’s target is to triple the percentage of
exports vis-à-vis GDP, while increasing the imports at a lower rate in
order to bring the deficit down from 17 per cent to 15 per cent of
GDP.137 Ethiopia is landlocked and the use of Djibouti harbour,
through which 90 per cent of external trade has to transit, is extremely
expensive (at least one billion dollars a year if internal land transport
costs are included).
To diminish this trade imbalance, the projected increase in agricul-
tural exports—even if the potential results of the large-scale land trans-
fers are considered—will not be enough. Coffee is still the main export
product and the top foreign currency earner ($832m out of $2.8bn in
total).138 Oil seeds ($470m in export earnings for 2011) rank third,139
khat ($236m)140 is fourth and cut flowers ($170m)141 are fifth.
The inadequacy of agricultural exports means that manufacturing
will have to achieve a proportional increase. Prime Minister Meles
Zenawi thus advocated “an export-led industrialisation strategy”142 and
the implementation of a classical import substitution strategy for pri-
mary consumption goods. Meles said: “To further enhance the foreign
trade which is crucial to economic development, it is necessary to grad-
ually transform the economic base from agriculture to industry”.143 The
planned engines of this growth are gold, manufacturing, sugar144 and
electricity, whose combined export values should represent a higher
return than the totality of present exports by 2015.145 Exports of man-
ufactured goods are expected to increase seven times,146 leather exports
6.5 times and textile and garment exports, very low at present, should
grow thirty times, all within five years. The latter sector’s growth rests
on its trump card: the low cost of its manpower, which is about a third
of the Sub-Saharan African average. But per capita worker productiv-
ity is also much lower (about a third of the average).147
(2) Financing. The GTP sums the problem up by saying: “success in
GTP requires high investment”. In 2015 this should represent nearly
one third of GDP: 31 per cent compared to 24 per cent in 2010. The
biggest share will have to come from the government and state-owned
enterprises.
The GTP government investment programs total some 407 billion Ethiopian
birr.148 In addition, there is ‘off-budget financing’ of infrastructure and
industrial development programs, totalling 569 billion birr … Projected
investments for the GTP period add up to 976 billion birr [almost $60bn].149
377
The African Development Bank mentions $77bn as the sum

required, of which 55 per cent needs to come directly from the govern-
ment’s budget.150 Three main channels are foreseen to provide such an
enormous amount of money.
(i) The first is internal. “The investment needs of the GTP could be
mobilized by increasing communities’ participation in effective
domestic revenue collection, saving and resources utilization”.
There are calls “to enhance citizens’ awareness about tax” through
“mobilization”. That way gross domestic savings should triple in
five years, going from 5 per cent of GDP to 15 per cent in 2015; the
ratio of tax revenue to GDP should double. But is this realistic?
Bank deposits have gone down from 31 per cent of GDP a few
years ago to 21 per cent today.151 Even if we agree that tax collec-
tion is not up to par, there are now more and more instances of
harassment of tax payers, to a point where the IMF now warns of
“rising financial repression”,152 increasing feelings of uncertainty
among economic actors. Is it possible to promote “a culture of sav-
ing” while the inflation rate is 39 per cent and banks are serving
interest rates lower than inflation? This is a situation in which all
Ethiopians who have savings are rushing to the real estate
market.153
(ii) The second “solution” is simply to print money. This is what was
done after the 2005 elections, with dire consequences for the infla-
tion rate. In 2008 inflation peaked at 61.6 per cent in August,
driven by 79.2 per cent inflation in food prices; similarly, inflation
in 2011 reached 40.7 per cent and 40.2 per cent in August and
September respectively, at a time when food price inflation reached
almost 50 per cent.154 Meles Zenawi had to admit that “the
Central Bank has injected excess money into the market causing
the inflation”.155 In 2011 the Central Bank “released” almost $3bn
to finance public expenses.156 Meanwhile, the volume of banking
credit had grown by 36 per cent in one year.157 The often men-
tioned “imported inflation” only represented 15 per cent of the
total rate.158 Inflation went up again to 36 per cent in March
2012,159 reaching 45 per cent for food prices.160 It slowed down to
23 per cent (25 per cent for food prices) in December 2012.161 The
birr is now overvalued and could be devalued at any time. The last
devaluation (16.7 per cent in September 2011) brought it down to
17.28 to one US dollar.162 At the current valuation of birr, the fed-
378
eral budget has jumped from 64bn birr ($5.6bn)163 for 2009/10 to
138bn ($7.7bn)164 for 2012/13. 79 per cent of this budget comes
from internal resources, owing to a large tax increase, and 21 per
cent comes from external loans and grants.165 International aid is
expected to increase. “The good relationship between the govern-
ment and development partners and the government’s established
commitment to eradicate poverty are expected to encourage
increased external resource inflows”.166 There are indications in
this direction: in September 2012 the World Bank gave Ethiopia
$1.15bn in interest-free credit167 and in December offered another
$4bn to be given over the next four years.168
But even if tax increases bring in as much as the government hopes, if
Official Development Assistance remains at its present level there will
still be a nearly $1.5bn gap in the budget.169 Meanwhile, the government
has promised to achieve single digit inflation by reducing fiduciary cre-
ation and cutting down on its borrowing from the Central Bank. But
“the government has two options: either to print money or to cut back
on its expenditures”.170 So in order to achieve record growth, it seems
probable that inflation will be allowed to run its course.
(iii) The third source of finance is radical. “Private sector investment
growth” is a leitmotiv in GTP documents. Particularly targeted
countries are India,171 China and Turkey. To attract them, thereby
“creating an enabling environment for private sector investment
growth”,172 is seen as a must, although the exact contents of this
requirement have never been spelt out.
(3) An “anaemic” private sector. Basically, it has not reached lift-off
stage. “The key to the GTP’s success is the shift in the driver of growth
from the public sector to the private sector … But this formula does
not seem to be working”.173 “The ambition of the statements [made by
the authorities] has been matched neither by the performance of the
private sector nor by the level of ambition of reforms to support the
sector.”174 The formal private sector represents a small part of the
economy, generating only 2.7 per cent of GDP and employing just 5.8
per cent of the workforce.175 Industry is stuck at 14 per cent of GDP
(compared to 30 per cent on average in Sub-Saharan Africa).176 Foreign
Direct Investments (FDI) net inflow is extremely volatile ($550m in
2006, less than $100m in 2009, $184m in 2010, $626m in 2011) and,
even in 2011, represented only one sixth of the Sub-Saharan African
379
per inhabitant average.177 (And the United Nations Conference on

Trade and Development gives a completely different figure: $206m for
2011, around 6 per cent of the same average.) The FDI stock amounted
to $4.4bn (2011), 1.2 per cent of Sub-Saharan African stock.178
How can we explain this “anaemia”? First and foremost by refer-
ence to the hegemony of public power, exerted through public and
para-public enterprises and, paradoxically, through its role in guiding
and backing the private sector.179 The World Bank’s Doing Business
Ranking (2013) ranks Ethiopia 127th out of 185 countries (111th out
of 182 in 2012),180 towards the middle of Sub-Saharan African coun-
tries. “Ethiopia’s ranking has not improved significantly over the past
few years and the pace of reforms is slowing down.”181 The result is a
dubious investment climate. There are six factors brought forth to
explain this:
(i) Far from diminishing, state dominance—and more precisely the
concentration of this dominance at the top of the party-state—is
unabashedly increasing. “The equivalent of two-fifths of total eco-
nomic activity will be linked to public sector activity in the com-
ing years”.182 Taking into account the weight of traditional agri-
culture, which is not public sector-controlled, two thirds of the
rest of the economy—that is, the modern economy—is “linked” to
the public sector. As a result, in the words of Eyesus Worq Zafu,
president of the Ethiopian Chamber of Commerce and Sectorial
Association, “when private sector businesses are engaged in simi-
lar activities as public enterprises … preference is given to govern-
ment companies. The playing field is not level.”183 The US Embassy
wrote: “state-owned enterprises have considerable advantages
over private firms, particularly in the realm of Ethiopia’s regula-
tory and bureaucratic environment, including ease of access to
credit and speedier customs clearance.”184 State-owned companies
have, for example, privileged access to government credit alloca-
tion. During the last six years, the amount of credit extended to
state enterprises and parastatals has multiplied by eight.185
“Roughly two-thirds of all banking system credit is now directed
to the public sector.”186 This means a quasi-permanent credit
crunch for the purely private sector. The Doing Business 2013
report ranks the difficulty of obtaining credit at the very top of the
hurdles any private business has to clear. Hence the emergence “of
a significant parallel market in loans to business firms”, in which
380
“loan sharks” loan hundreds of thousands of dollars at annual

rates of 30 per cent or more. But even those have only a limited
outreach, given the fact that the volume of business “has to be
based on personal confidence and trust”.187
(ii) Another problem is that at the centre of the public sphere there is
a small group of oligarchs who have become important actors on
the economic scene and who operate hand in hand with the state.
At the forefront is MIDROC Ethiopia,188 a conglomerate owned
by the half-Ethiopian Saudi billionaire Sheikh Mohammed
Hussein Ali Al-Amoudi. Forbes ranks him as the 63rd richest per-
son in the world. He owns the biggest gold mine in Ethiopia and
is the country’s exclusive gold exporter.189 He plans to invest
$3.4bn in Ethiopian industry and agriculture over the next five
years.190 Apart from the companies now run by EFFORT, 60 per
cent of those that were privatized “have been awarded to
Al-Amoudi related companies … Al Amoudi is known to have
close ties to the ruling TPLF/EPRDF regime, and rumours persist
of favourable treatment.”191
(iii) Far from limiting itself to the public and para-public sectors, the
state is also very directive and intrusive in the genuine private sec-
tor. It has handpicked certain firms for support:
“The government appeared to be following a strategy of attempting
to ‘pick the winners’ of the private sector development race.”192
“[D]ecisions are taken within the confines of the government (or the
ruling party) and are neither systematically evidence-based nor partic-
ipatory nor transparent.”193
“The government deliberately employs a carrot-and-stick approach
that differentiates between economic activities and firms, up to the
point where targets for individual firms are sometimes negotiated on a
case-by-case basis in exchange for public support.”194
As a consequence, the private sector is focused on those “pockets of
vitality” that are opened by “government-affiliated projects”.195 These
tend to be limited both in terms of sector and geography to where pub-
lic support promises particularly high returns. As a consequence, much
of the population is excluded from this particular growth, depriving it
of sustainability. The examples of underdeveloped countries which
have achieved very high rates of growth over the recent period, such as
the Asian “small dragons”, show “that rapid growth in the developing
381
world has been invariably associated with diversification of production

into manufacturing and modern services.”196
(iv) Moreover, the regime is used to imposing “a slew of abrupt, chal-
lenging, and sometimes erratic regulatory changes”.197 Two exam-
ples: worried about the risk that unrest caused by hunger could
lead to an Arab Spring-type uprising, Meles Zenawi suddenly and
without any prior consultation announced a price cap on seven-
teen basic food commodities (4 January 2011). Chaos resulted

since the taxed prices were often lower than the production costs
of the products. A black market briefly appeared and the cap was
lifted in June. With the same suddenness, the government
announced that coffee could only be exported in bulk containers
even though coffee traders worldwide exclusively use 60 kg bags
(14 November 2011). Importers immediately stopped buying and

producers complained that “the directive is completely impossible

to work with”. It was lifted on 15 December after tens of millions

of dollars were lost in missed exports.

“It is not clear when firms are eligible to get preferential treatment
in term of access to licenses, land, credit and foreign exchange, on
what condition ailing firms will be bailed out, and whether these con-
ditions vary between state-owned enterprises, firms affiliated with the
ruling political parties, and independent private firms.”198 In Ethiopia,
laws governing business are a complex jungle.199 Any private entrepre-
neur knows that the administration can at any time fault him for some
obscure violation, whether real or engineered by a rival firm or an offi-
cial trying to extract a bribe. Going to court is a risky process because
the very existence of the firm could be at stake. Potential investors
would appreciate knowing better where they stand and what the rules
of the game are. Transparency and long term sustainability are becom-
ing more and more necessary.
(v) The best way for a private investor to protect himself from this
type risk in dealing with the state is to acquire the protection of a
high-ranking person. But even this is not an absolute safeguard
since the entrepreneur’s security will depend on the continued sta-
tus of his protector.
(vi) Finally, whole sectors of the economy remain closed to foreign
investment, particularly banking and telecommunications. Prime
Minister Zenawi used to frequently repeat that “since we care …
382
for our finally nascent businesses … a free and open market in

Ethiopia would be a challenge to our traders to compete with the
elephants.”200
There are two other factors also at play, in a more limited way. First,
the quality of the administration is eroding. Its turnover is exceptionally
high and “it seems that the government … still values political loyalty
higher than merit. There is a general perception that party affiliation and
loyalty have become even more important since the 2005 events.”201
Secondly, corruption remains limited and the general financial
behaviour of the civil service is quite far from the usual predatory
behaviour of African administrations, but this is slowly changing. In
spite of the creation of the Ethiopian Ethics and Anti Corruption
Commission, Ethiopia, which in 2010 was ranked 59th (in ascending
order of perceived corruption) out of 102 countries in the Corruption
Perception Index of Transparency International, ranks today 113th out
of 174 and 23rd out of 47 African countries.202 According to Global
Financial Integrity, Ethiopia’s illicit financial flows were worth $5.6bn
in 2010, and the average per year between 2001 and 2010 has been
$1.7bn.203 The most frequent scam is export over-invoicing, while
about a third of corruption is attributable directly to state administra-
tion. The 2010 figure, however, represents 18 per cent of GDP, a per-
centage that casts doubt on its reliability. But clearly corruption
becomes an “increasing challenge” when “rapid economic growth is
coupled with significant government intervention in the management
of the economy”.204 This new phenomenon is casting a shadow on
Ethiopia’s famed administrative honesty, which up to now had been a
big plus in the eyes of international donors.
The risk of a “poor productivity trap”. All these various distortions

accentuate the separation between two economies, one that is either
part of the power structure (public and parastatal companies) or oper-
ating within its orbit (the new oligarchs), and one that is independent
and pays a price for this. The “privileged” sector could reach yearly
returns on investment as high as 50 per cent or 60 per cent, thus creat-
ing a structural rent which contradicts the government’s proclaimed
aim to combat “rent seekers”. The disadvantaged sector, divided into
a multitude of small and medium-sized enterprises, experiences the
greatest difficulties in developing, even with projects that are really
profitable, which might give a rate of return on investment of 30 per
cent per annum.205
383
This duality seems inscribed in stone. A recent study indicates that

not even one of the fifty leading industrial firms in Ethiopia started as
a small firm.206 The bias in resource allocation and regulation means
that not only is there an abyss separating the large-scale elite and the
struggling mass of small businesses, but also that the small ones can
hardly be reliable partners for the big ones. They cannot face what
economists coyly call “transaction costs”. Private independent
Ethiopian entrepreneurs “do not have the deep pocket to deal with
such costs”.207 In the successful Asian economies, which the Ethiopian
authorities like to parade as examples, there is a pattern “characterized
by a dense web of firms, with many small and medium-sized enter-
prises linking up with a relatively small number of large firms … One
key reason why Ethiopian manufacturers lag behind their competitors
in China and Vietnam is the absence of extensive subcontracting net-
works and clustering.”208
The second consequence of this structural rent cushioning the pub-
lic sector is that not only does it prevent efficient resource allocation
in an environment of relative scarcity, but it also “hinders open and
fair competition”.209 In a market economy, such competition is the
engine of innovation and productivity. Lacking these two factors,
enterprises tend not to be very productive. Furthermore, since the pro-
tected sector is largely free from competition, increasing productivity
does not rank very high in its order of priorities. The danger is that
Ethiopia might lock itself in a “poor productivity trap”.210 Even if the
cost of its manpower is only one third of that of China, its productiv-
ity is six or seven times less. “Without effective competition, it is
almost certain that Ethiopia’s productivity growth will remain slow.
That is not a viable strategy.”211
Given that there are few natural resources apart from land and
hydropower potential, that the population is very large but has a very
low purchasing power, and that the country is landlocked, the hopes
for rapid industrialization, key to the GTP’s success, are in fact
“dim”.212 The IMF, in an internal note co-signed by the International
Development Association, extended a formal warning:
The main concerns stem from heavy financing needs that have not been
secured, insufficient prioritisation, and the limited role envisaged for the pri-
vate sector [as well as] … [h]igh and rising inflation … Financing needs for
the public sector will likely crowd out private sector credit on the domestic
side and strain debt sustainability on the external side.213
384
The note recommends, inter alia, “to prioritize public sector invest-
ment based on rigorous cost-benefit analysis … promote competition
… contain inflation … and improve data quality”. Some of the GTP
goals are described as “unrealistic”,214 and the plan in general is con-
sidered to be over-ambitious and even dangerous. These international
organizations recommend more realistic targets and assorted means of
implementation to aim at an annual growth rate of 6 to 8 per cent.
Such results would in any case be quite remarkable.
An obsession with control. In a recent study the International Food

Policy Research Institute (IFPRI) has evaluated the Agricultural
Extension System.215 It pointed out a series of missing elements—mate-
rial, technical and human—but argued that “most of all, the farmers
in Ethiopia need to be able to make decisions, voice demand, and play
a part in developing extension’s priorities and evaluating its out-
comes—in short, they need empowerment”.
Mutatis mutandis, the same requirement seems to be applicable to
all other economic agents. The government, following what has always
been the dominant trend in Abyssinian power relations, seems to find
it extremely difficult to tolerate the autonomy of economic actors, even
within the framework of a market economy. It tends to adhere to a sys-
temic view of tutelage, including for private agents.
Discipline and control are the main features of Ethiopia’s national ideology.
The question is a lack of bottom-up feedback, the tendency to only pass
‘good news’ to the rulers … which may be the biggest blind spot for Ethiopia
… A system that is long on top-down discipline and control may be strong
… but it may be ‘brittle,’ as it is short on ability to adapt; it could break
down when faced with a major crisis … The country will need to expand
the space in which different ideas are debated vigorously, to forge and sus-
tain a national vision.216
Meles Zenawi reacted abruptly and closed this debate by saying:

“Nobody can impose neo-liberal views on Ethiopia”.217
Conclusion: is this an insuperable paradox?

The growth rate of Ethiopia is steadily declining, from around 11 per
cent in 2004 to around 7 per cent in 2013. A recent IMF report pro-
jected Ethiopia’s growth for the coming year at 5 per cent, less than the
Sub-Saharan African average.218 After tense discussions with the
Ethiopian authorities, this figure has not been adopted in subsequent
385
reports. There is still a paradox which seriously threatens the very aims
of the nation’s economic policy. On one hand, the ruling power is try-
ing to achieve a high degree of economic growth in order to ensure its
legitimacy—a way to enhance its durability. It proclaims that the only
viable strategy to reach this goal is to integrate Ethiopia into the world
market. This requires massive private investment. On the other hand,
its behaviour is calculated to keep the party-state in a command posi-
tion. It disdains the very tenets and essential rules that it would need
to respect in order to achieve this integration.
What will private investors do? Will they consider that the high return
they could get in Ethiopia outweighs all the obstacles they have to face
which are absent elsewhere? Or will the regime try to overcome this par-
adox? If so, the kind of governance which has prevailed in Ethiopia for
centuries would need a paradigmatic shift, amounting to no less than a
cultural revolution. That is hard to envision, not least because making it
effective would require weakening the public and parastatal sectors, key
elements of political hegemony which bring huge material benefits for
those at the top of the power structure. The future of the Ethiopian
economy depends as much on the political and even cultural order of
society as on a certain level of economic performance.
[January 2013]
Addendum: The Ethiopian economy at the end of the GTP 2010–14

The international media are in the process of transforming their cover-
age of Ethiopia. Media “buzz” now comes not from poverty or famine
but from the proliferation of skyscrapers in Addis Ababa, the opening
of clothing factories and the new cultivation of thousands of acres of
arable land by Chinese, Arab, Indian and Turkish investors, without
forgetting to mention the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam, soon to
be the largest hydroelectric dam in Africa. After the “Asian Tigers” it
would seem we now have an “African Lion”.219
It is true that the economy continues to register remarkable suc-
cesses. But their pace is steadily decreasing because they were achieved
through the developmental state, a concept whose centralized statist
engine is finding it harder and harder to drive by itself the whole eco-
nomic system. Nevertheless, the Ethiopian regime does not consider
changing course because, in spite of its resounding declarations, it does
not want to (or perhaps cannot) have recourse to an essential auxiliary
engine, the private sector.
386
Economic statistics have to be taken with an increasingly large pinch

of salt. The regime has reported an average annual GDP growth rate
of at least 10 per cent over the last ten years. Even though it admits a
slight reduction—to 9.7 per cent—for 2013, it forecasts 11.3 per cent
growth in 2014 and at least that much, if not more, for the coming
period. Financial institutions offer more sober estimates: a 3 per cent
rate of growth over the last ten years and 6 to 7 per cent for the next
three to five years.220
If the regime’s statistics are accurate, Ethiopian farmers continue to
achieve miraculous results in spite of climate problems. The yearly
increase of their output has never been less than 5 per cent and the
next “great crop” is supposed to produce 25.4 million tons of cereals,
pulses and oil seeds—10 per cent more than the previous one.221 Total
agricultural production would have thus nearly doubled in ten years.
That over eight million Ethiopians still need food aid to survive can be
attributed to marginal poverty. But the causes and processes that have
resulted in this remarkable apparent increase in productivity remain
unexplained. Nor is there an explanation for the fact that food prices
are increasing faster than the general rate of inflation,222 or for Ethiopia
remaining a net cereal importer and one of the main food aid recipi-
ents in the world.223 Unless, that is, we turn to a fact that is discreetly
mentioned at the end of an official report: “There are annual losses of
up to 30 per cent post-harvest”.224 This colossal figure is left unex-
plained and bears no relationship to the general figures given for the
rest of the productive process.
As for the general increase in agricultural production, it bears no
causal relationship to the land leasing—or, as we have seen it dubbed,
“land grabbing”—that the government hopes will see the new cultiva-
tion of nearly seven million acres by 2015. The results are highly con-
tentious but even the Prime Minister has had to admit that only about
20,000 acres are at present under cultivation225 and that the whole pro-
gramme needs to be completely reframed. There are many reasons for
this fiasco: the programme has been rushed, not enough preliminary
studies were done, the distances between the fields and the administra-
tive centres are prohibitively large, logistical costs are high, local pop-
ulations are often hostile, foreign investors have proved unreliable and
potential local investors have been passive, preferring to speculate on
the price increase of their own landholdings. Some of the 400 Saudi
investors who had pledged $3bn altogether—a highly dubious figure—
387
seem ready to withdraw because they can’t get dependable support

from the Saudi Kingdom Agricultural Development Fund.226 There
have been other mishaps. The Indian company Karuturi recently dis-
covered that three fourths of the 220,000 acres it had rented were
flooded for six months of the year.
As for the villageization process (regrouping local populations to
make room for investors), it has caused a strong (at times armed)
opposition as well as foreign hostility, which embarrasses some of the
major donors such as the United States Agency for International
Development (USAID), the World Bank and Britain’s Department for
International Development (DFID). These investors were slated to
“bring in desperately needed foreign currency”227 and it was hoped
that they could boost the level of agricultural exports to $6bn by 2015,
the planned date of GTP termination. But their overall results in 2013
only reached $3bn, a 2 per cent regression from 2012 figures.
This downward trend continues, mostly because “the nation’s com-
petitiveness has dropped sharply”.228 The fall in global coffee and gold
prices (Ethiopia’s first and fourth largest export items respectively) has
played a role. But the commercial balance deficit is now about 20 per
cent of GDP, instead of 5 per cent when the EPRDF came to power.229
The current account deficit is increasing ($3bn, 7 per cent of GDP)
and so is the external debt ($11bn).230 At a little more than $3bn,
external aid represents nearly half the current budget.231 After a 6 per
cent dip in the spring of 2013, inflation is again on the increase (8.8
per cent in March 2014).232 As a result, it is now becoming evident
that most of the GTP targets will not be achieved, something which
was predictable given their exaggerated optimism.
But these failures should not divert from a major success: Ethiopia’s
rate of growth remains one of the highest in Africa and it is now draw-
ing more and more attention from foreign investors. But achieving the
official GTP target—turning Ethiopia into a middle income country by
2025—will need a sustained rate of economic growth, and the accom-
panying target, poverty reduction, presupposes success in achieving a
modicum of labour intensive growth, which is not yet in sight.
The active population grows by 3.5 per cent per year, one of the
highest rates in Africa, and unemployment among the working age
population has increased sharply since 2005. Unemployment among
the active population ranges between 19 and 36 per cent, depending
on which source is consulted.233
388
Therefore it is probable that the present GTP will more modestly

mark an economic transition: moving from an agriculture-led economy
to an industry-led one. Yet even this transition is still somewhat in
doubt. The media have focused on the new clothing factories that have
appeared around Addis, but these are in fact sweatshops which are
taking advantage of a workforce paid between $40 and $50 per
month—less than workers in Bangladesh. The Economist even pub-
lished an article entitled “Manufacturing in Africa: An Awakening
Giant”,234 in reference to Ethiopia. The title might be somewhat exag-
gerated. During the first three years of the GTP the share of agriculture
in GDP decreased from 45.6 per cent to 43 per cent, while services
remained stable at 45 per cent and industry grew from 10.6 per cent to
12 per cent (in comparison, in the rest of Africa industry accounts for
between 10 and 14 per cent of GDP).235 But while industry was sup-
posed to boost exports, it contributes only 9 per cent of Ethiopia’s
total exports, and it represents just 3 per cent of jobs compared to agri-
culture’s 78 per cent.236 Industrial employment has gone down by
around a third over the last five or six years and its productivity is
lower than that of agriculture.
The engine of growth remains services—mostly trade and real
estate—which are far ahead of manufacturing. But we have to keep in
mind that “apart from a few tax havens, there is no country that has
attained a high standard of living on the basis of services alone”.237
The authorities were counting on a foreign capital influx, and for-
eign investors were welcomed and treated with special favour. But net
foreign direct investments grew by a billion dollars in 2013, which is
less than 3 per cent of GDP, and only $627m in 2012 and $288m in
2011. If we look at these figures within the context of East Africa, this
$1bn growth is five times less than that in Mozambique and about at
the level of Madagascar. If we take the figure as relative to population
size, Ethiopia’s 2013 increase is just 25 per cent of the continental
average.238
The obstacles remain the usual ones: the difficulty of accessing
finance, logistical problems, taxation, bureaucratic red tape and cor-
ruption. The constant power failures and the inefficient telephone sys-
tem are a constant grind. Of late the main question has been to try to
understand why national investors do not want to invest. This is
because during the last ten years investment has been carried out by
the state (about 18 per cent of GDP),239 which has mostly financed the
389
big GTP public work programme (whose cost is estimated today at

$57bn).240 Four fifths of the money came from national sources: taxes
(even though they are very low compared to the African average), so-
called “voluntary contributions”, borrowing and inflationary money
creation. Meanwhile savings are down, with domestic savings at their
lowest level in thirty years at 6 per cent of GDP.241 This is quite under-
standable since interest rates paid to depositors stand at around 5 per
cent, much less than the inflation level.
Because of lack of liquidity, public enterprises siphon off the little
credit left. Out of the $2.5bn given to the market, public enterprises
received 83 per cent, compared to 17 per cent for private investors.242
“The public investment rate of Ethiopia is the third highest in the
world, while the private investment rate is the sixth lowest.”243
Consequently, the consolidated budget deficit is nearly 10 per cent of
GDP, a hardly sustainable rate, creating a sharp credit crunch.244
Faced with such unfair competition, private entrepreneurs shun the
manufacturing sector because it requires too high a level of investment.
Instead they put their money into services, which require less invest-
ment and give a faster and higher rate of return. “The failure to achieve
the target set (by the GTP) for the manufacturing sector is primarily
attributable to the negligible involvement of local investors in the sec-
tor.”245 This is a major failure since only they can create the vast net-
work of labour intensive small scale enterprises that is needed. The
IMF representative in Addis Ababa recently declared: “I don’t think
Ethiopia will reach its goal of joining the middle income group of
countries without first giving more space to the private sector”.246 This
position is common among most market-oriented observers of the
Ethiopian economy, and some see it as an ideological position.
Meles Zenawi, who died in August 2012, used to say that “neo-lib-
eralism” would not dictate Ethiopian economic choices. Today his suc-
cessors avoid the problem by asking for time. “Achievements in infra-
structural investments can show us that structural transformation may
not be far away … Our focus is on transformation not just growth,”
declared Abraham Tekeste, the State Minister for Finance and
Economic Development. But in what does this transformation consist?
Is the move only from agriculture towards industry, or does it also
involve a shift in emphasis from the public sector to the private sector?
Once more, if there is an answer to be found, one has to look at poli-
tics as well as economic conditions.
390
Since the death of Meles Zenawi, the top part of the power structure
has exploded into a multiplicity of competing centres. All of them
affect total loyalty towards the dead man’s memory and political line
because all are afraid that deviating from that line would open them
up to attacks from a coalition of competing enemies.
Business as usual is taken care of but nobody dares to confront the
major contradiction of the economic situation: the constant proclama-
tion that the market economy is the only way towards development
and the consistent refusal to play by its rules. Ethiopia at present is like
a ship without a skipper, with a respectful but passive crew and a fal-
tering engine. If we look at the first discussions about the next five-
year plan, we can see no change in sight.
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——— 2011a, “The ‘Middle Way’ to GTP Implementation”, Addis Fortune,
22 May 2011.
——— 2001b, “National Ideologies, National Blinders”, Addis Fortune, 12
June 2011.
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Pankhurst, Alula and Piguet, François, 2009, Moving People in Ethiopia:

Development, Displacement & the State, Oxford: James Currey.
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(last access May 2014).
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ESSP II Working Paper 020.

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Growth Centre.
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Washington DC, International Food Policy Research Institute, IFPRI
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394
15
ADDIS ABABA AND THE URBAN RENEWAL

IN ETHIOPIA
Perrine Duroyaume
Ethiopian towns are often resumed by the quick sketch of a paradoxi-

cal country of high population density with 82 million inhabitants but
weak urbanization with only 16.5 per cent city dwellers.1 But we
should also pay attention to the high urban growth rates, some 3.49
per cent2 in the 2005–10 period, with increased growth forecast in the
next twenty years.
The current urban development of Ethiopian towns is inscribed in
the context of spectacular economic growth with an annual GDP
growth of 11 per cent3 in the 2006–10 period, which has largely ben-
efited the service sector. However, this economic miracle raises ques-
tions. The current government has for long decreed the development
and modernization of agriculture a national priority, and in the face of
a lack of a clear urban policy, cities did not see significant investment
throughout the 1990s: they are neglected, reports speak of under-
development of spaces under pressure from resumed rural-urban
migration. Urban centres are similar to shantytowns and present a run-
395
down aspect. In the last ten years, the Ethiopian authorities have
broadcast a change of heart and new orientations have taken shape
that favour urban development. The city is a space to invest (in) and
reconstruct: preoccupations about the state of cities are shared by all
and current policy aims at modernization of urban infrastructure so
that theses spaces may fully enjoy their role in the emergence of a lib-
eralized economy. Urban policies have been more determined since
2005 and are underscored by a strong return of the power of the state
to the urban field.
The case of Addis Ababa, a capital city that has just turned one hun-
dred, and is still very influenced by its urban heritage, illustrates the
radical dimension of the transformations underway. What will be the
price of the transformation of a poorly equipped city, with village-
like qualities, into an international capital, a competitive metropolis?
What are the mechanisms that enable the Ethiopian authorities to
undertake urban works, to finance roads and dwellings? Being both
the stage of politics and a city in the turmoil of urban dynamics, Addis
Ababa, the “New Flower”, offers a sketch for an Ethiopian urbaniza-
tion model in which economic growth must provide answers to the
underlying poverty.
Capitals in the history of Ethiopia

An urban history of Ethiopia would first feature Axum, Lalibela and
Gondar, political and religious centres whose names symbolize impor-
tant phases in the history of the Christian kingdom. After the decline
of the Gondar period, the nineteenth century was marked by territo-
rial conquests and the changing alliances of the Kings of Kings
(Tewodros II, Yohannes IV and Menelik II), confronted with the obli-
gation of defending and stabilizing an empire coveted by the Western
powers at the peak of their colonial expansion. The control and subju-
gation of the provinces demanded that the sovereign and his troops
often sojourned there. The seat of power was nomadic. These mobile
capitals were similar to military camps, often situated in militarily
defensive positions.4 After occupying the sites of Ankober and Entoto,
Menelik II decided to fix the seat of power: the creation of Addis
Ababa in 1886 ushered Ethiopia into contemporary urban history and
contributed to the state modernization project.5 The creation of an
urban network centred on the capital began partially at the end of the
396
ADDIS ABABA AND THE URBAN RENEWAL IN ETHIOPIA
nineteenth century, with the territorial unification policy. The con-

quests undertaken in the southern provinces went hand in hand with
the establishment of military garrisons, the ketema, where a petty
bourgeoisie of the administration’s civil servants and local traders was
concentrated. At the centre of these new urban links, Addis Ababa, the
“New Flower”, was founded to endow the empire with a visible power
base recognized both nationally and internationally.
Situated to the south of the Christian highlands, at a strategic cross-
roads opening onto the Rift Valley, Addis Ababa rapidly came to dom-
inate the political and economic landscape. As early as 1890 it had the
infrastructure demanded by the foreign delegations, such as interna-
tional class hotels and banking establishments.6 On the eve of the
twentieth century, the project of a railway linking the capital to the
port of Djibouti was launched with the support of France, the main
investor; the line was inaugurated in 1917. It consolidated Ethiopia’s
trade and encouraged the industrialization of the country and its sup-
plies. Having barely emerged from the fields, Addis Ababa was given
a role on the international political scene by establishing the claim of
an empire capable of opening up to modernity.
In domestic politics, the permanent seat of power attracted provin-
cial lords, ras and dejazmach, who set themselves up on large plots
next to the palace. The emperor, the official holder of all lands, sought
the allegiance of high dignitaries by offering them advantageous plots
situated close to his palace. A whole society organized itself around the
life of the court: servants, traders, craftsmen, and soldiers made up the
first population of Addis Ababa. They made houses on the slopes and
at the bottom of the ravines, the high grounds being reserved to the
residences of the dignitaries.7
The capital became a unique setting in a largely rural country and
never ceased attracting more and more migrants, integrating them-
selves into neighbourhoods defined by provincial origin. Addis Ababa
experienced a heady growth, which intensified in periods of political
and food crisis.8 While generating a climate of instability, the Italian
occupation from 1936 to 1941 consolidated urban networks. Road
building, one of the largest infrastructure projects undertaken by the
Italians, facilitated transport and the city became a more and more
accessible space, family and ethnic solidarity guaranteeing to newcom-
ers a first port of call.
397
Addis Ababa on the eve of the revolution
From the 1960s onwards Ethiopia sought to invest in industry and to

develop a modern economy. Cities became spaces to organize and the
first master plans conceived at the end of the 1950s projected an urban
ideal promised by the country’s industrial and economic success.9
Addis Ababa magnified the setting of imperial power and the city
transformed itself to welcome new infrastructure and monumental
administrative buildings such as the City Hall, dominating Churchill
Avenue. Universities, and hotels catering to the diplomatic and busi-
ness community, gave the city the aspect of an open and modern cap-
ital. Emperor Haile Selassie was able to promote the unique and his-
torical position of Ethiopia, the only country of the African continent
not to have been colonized, in order to convince the Organization of
African Unity to establish its headquarters in Addis Ababa in 1963.
This international standing obliged Ethiopia to satisfy the infrastruc-
ture conditions: hotels adapted to the needs of an international clien-
tele, meeting venues equipped with current technology, an airport con-
nected to the continent10 have fulfilled for Addis Ababa its role as a
diplomatic capital.
But behind cosmetic touches and the image of a modern city visible
from its main thoroughfares, the popular city continued to grow. A
real estate market emerged. Cities, and in particular the capital, offered
opportunities to acquire land ownership to the small administrative
and commercial bourgeoisie. Imperial dignitaries sold off parts of their
large concessions. The gradual break-up of landholdings benefited an
urban class composed of owners who were encouraged to build at the
back of their lots, in the backyards, and offer the buildings for rent to
new urban dwellers.11
Some neighbourhoods were densely built up, full of little rental
houses and built without any real master plan. The rental market in
expansion gave Addis Ababa’s different neighbourhoods a garish
make-up, without any coherence for a foreign observer,12 with sump-
tuous dwellings alongside hovels of wattle and daub. The dense urban
tissue consolidated local solidarity associations founded on good
neighbourly relations: the edirs, funeral associations for the support of
bereaved families in which the inhabitants of a same neighbourhood
participate, and the geber tradition in which an affluent family invites
neighbouring households to a banquet during religious festivals, are
398
manifestations of a society hierarchized along class faultlines but also

attentive to social links.
The nationalization of houses

Urban configuration would probably have evolved towards gradual
improvement of popular housing, but a major event in urban and
political history put a stop to the mechanisms of the real estate market
at the source of an original urban pattern.
One of the founding acts of the 1974 revolution was the national-
ization of farm land. The “Land to the Tiller” slogan was to find an
echo in the city and the revolutionary leadership wanted to ensure the
support of the urban classes: hence the “extra houses” nationalization
law was proclaimed on the night of 4 July 1975.13 All rental properties

of the capital became public property: the tenants were to be freed

from the yoke of the landlords and benefit from the advantages of a
new paying system. Rents were slashed in half and the management of
houses entrusted to two different institutions. The Rental Housing
Agency was in charge of the management of high class houses, allotted
to privileged civil servants, while the great majority of dwellings of
poor standing, rented out for less than 100 ETB—the average being 15
ETB—were placed under the management of Urban Dwellers
Associations, replaced as early as 1976 by the kebele,14 a decentralized
organ of the central administration, very efficient for the control of the
population. Of the 200,000 dwellings that Addis Ababa counted in
1975, 140,000, or 70 per cent, were nationalized in this manner,
regrouped over an approximate total surface area of 4,000 ha.15 Real
estate ownership was not abolished but severely restricted, each fam-
ily only having the right to privately possess one dwelling, and rental
practises being strongly curtailed during the whole Derg period.16
This rental housing stock enabled a majority of urban dwellers to
find accommodation with a rental amount never readjusted since. One
of the main measures of the Derg was also to control mobility and
limit migratory fluxes. The collectivization of land, the control of the
peasantry, and systematic file-keeping surveillance by the kebele ren-
dered migration more difficult.
While urban growth figures decreased in the period after the Derg’s
rise to power, they were already on the increase again from the mid-
1980s,17 but the spread of the built-up surface did not really indicate a
399
growing population.18 The Derg period certainly marked a cut-off

point in the urban development of Ethiopia, and the real estate and
land ownership policies froze the urban structure inherited from the
1960s for several decades; in 1991, at the downfall of Mengistu, Addis
Ababa retained its popular aspect, with neighbourhoods still function-
ing like villages.
Addis Ababa in the 1990s: government neglect

and informal practices
The downfall of the Derg and the proclamation of a federal regime in
1994 did not entail an immediate urbanization of Ethiopia. The new
governing party, the EPRDF, favoured agricultural development, and
was suspicious towards cities in which uncontrolled growth could be
a source of social unrest. Low interest in the urban question meant a
constant degradation of the state of cities, which became like shanty
towns. Reports and studies19 describe a critical urban situation, with
Ethiopian cities accumulating severe handicaps, including, most preoc-
cupying, the dereliction of the housing stock, in particular dwellings
managed by the kebele.
Built with immediate returns in mind, nationalized houses were not
made to resist the wear and tear of time. 95 per cent of the houses were
in wattle and daub, more than three quarters of them covered less than
40m2 with high occupancy rates.20 Although certain households had the
desire and the capacity to invest in self-rehabilitation projects,21 they
were confronted by the kebele administration and complex and rigid
legislation. Faced with an increase in family size and multiple forms of
cohabitation linked to inadequate supply of accommodation, the kebele
administration accepted (or turned a blind eye to) expansion encroach-
ing on roads and extensions in height to the original structures.
The lack of accommodation was due to state control of the real
estate promotion sector. Current legislation in Ethiopia gives the state
sole ownership of land in the name of the common good of the nation.
Public authorities parcel out land deeds, and renewable leases with
lengths varying depending on the type of occupation, residential, com-
mercial or industrial. There is no land market, apart from the one
organized by the state. For households, legally acquiring a plot is an
ordeal and the required conditions reach such levels of constraint that
plots allotted by the municipality do not find takers.22
400
In the face of the low productivity of legal real estate venues, house-
holds develop solutions themselves by taking over empty plots, build-
ing on their land. Popular housing is informal, on the margins of legal-
ity; households pay electricity charges and are registered with the
kebele, but do not possess official land deeds, their presence is recog-
nized but not their accommodation. The struggle against illegal hous-
ing regularly appears in the discourse of the Addis Ababa Municipality,
which tries to discourage people from seeking it. But squatting phe-
nomena are really quite minor when compared with real estate prac-
tices: they are authorized, and enable households to put a simple hut
up for sale at a price way beyond its value, which in reality reflects the
price of the land plot itself. In this manner, many neighbourhoods have
been developed, bypassing the legislative framework, and some peas-
ants have been able to profit from the high demand from urban classes
by selling off marginal plots now urbanized and integrated into the
city, for attractive prices.23
A “shantytown” capital
In the centre, while neighbourhoods progressively became more built
up, access to basic services has not always kept pace: if the provision
of water and electricity is relatively correct in the old neighbourhoods,
shortcomings in waste management entail high sanitary risks. The
hygiene situation is alarming, rates of access by households to basic
services are overwhelmingly insufficient, and existing infrastructure
was not conceived for the growing population densities of the neigh-
bourhoods. For lack of follow up, a good deal of communal sanitary
infrastructure has been abandoned, degrading the environment.
Neighbourhoods have developed and become denser without any par-
ticular planning, as needs and possibilities arose: the urban road net-
work, tight and narrow, seems a labyrinth to the inexperienced passer-
by. A few secondary non-asphalted roads open up onto endless lanes
often finishing in culs-de-sac. This lack of thoroughfares is a major
constraint for disposing of waste and putting out fires, as the alleyways
are often inaccessible to motor vehicles.24
According to the studies regularly published by UN Habitat, more
than 90 per cent of the housing is slum-like. These numbers conceal a
variety of situations and urban forms, but feed a political discourse
which, faced with such a massive problem, has to formulate radical
solutions.
401
The shanty town is made up of people, and the urban question poses
a very delicate economic and social question in Ethiopia. The issues of
city development and access to housing are played out in a context of
urban poverty. High unemployment rates (more than 30 per cent)
barely conceal the importance of the informal economy, the great
diversity of which enables the popular classes to increase their incomes
and safeguard a purchasing power battered by the constant inflation
that directly impacts on the prices of consumer prices.25 In a context of
wage fragility and work instability, the possession of capital, especially
in the form of private housing, offers great opportunities to increase
one’s income.
Towards an urban renaissance?

All of the statistics produced over the last ten years reflect the steady
urbanization of Ethiopia and raise questions about its effects on an
urban system noted for its top-heavy capital. Historically, Addis Ababa
has dominated urban demography: in the last census of 2007, of the
12 million urban dwellers of Ethiopia, 2.7 million (22.5 per cent)
resided in the federal capital. Even so, Addis Ababa’s supremacy in an
urban system where the second city of the country numbers 230,000
inhabitants would seem to be in decline. The growth of regional capi-
tals, begun with the constitution of 1996, is rapid and reveals that
urbanization is being played out in areas boosted and developed by the
federal regime.
Regional capital cities Annual average Number of inhabitants 2007

growth rate
Mekele 9.4% 215,546

Bahar Dar 9.9% 220,344
Awassa 9.9% 159,013
Gambella City 8% 38,994
Dire Dawa 3% 232,854
Addis Ababa 2.3% 2,738,248
Source: Central Statistical Authority, 2007.
However, the current economic growth of Ethiopia, qualified as

miraculous with 10 per cent annual growth, mostly takes place in the
402
capital, the dominant economic centre since the Empire. Addis Ababa
stands out as an international metropolis, at the centre of an eco-
nomic growth pole. In a radius of 200 km, along road axes, many
investments have emerged, mainly farms in the agro-industrial sector
and flower farming with production geared to export, a sector that is
being presented as profitable ($17 million for the 2009–10 period).26
The Oromo region benefits from the capital’s pull and participates in
agricultural development policies in which important concessions are
granted to foreign investors. These investments have a strong impact
on the urban network, especially apparent in the spectacular growth
of towns situated in this radius. By connecting the hinterland of the
capital with the world economy, the development of peri-urban or
urban areas redefines the relations between local and global scales. It
is also shaking up a city that has to conform to worldwide urbaniza-
tion standards and stake its claim to being a diplomatic capital.
Urban development: a political and economic project

Addis Ababa’s status as an international metropolis is at stake and
development policies now reflect orientations more favourable to the
city. The urban sector holds an important position in the GTP (Growth
and Transformation Plan) strategy that aims to reduce unemployment,
eradicate shanty towns and develop industry.27 The objectives are met
by the implementation of a housing programme that boosts the labour
intensive construction sector, energizes the private sector and offers
urban dwellers a more decent and comfortable environment. Reflecting
an opening up to economic liberalism, access to private home owner-
ship for all social categories is becoming an important objective of
development policies. The paradigm shift is clear and seems to repudi-
ate the previous housing policy, inherited from the 1975 revolution,
which shunted tenants into an urban class on their own, giving them a
stake in the creation of a more just society where limited private own-
ership would limit social injustice. But behind this apparent radical
change, one should nevertheless perceive continuity in the power and
role of the state which, through control of land ownership, keeps a
near total control over urbanization. Through a housing policy that
favours the access to ownership, but remains programmed and defined
by the public authorities, Ethiopia is inaugurating an untried form of
state capitalism.
403
During the last parliamentary election campaign in 2010, the city

came to the fore as a political theme. Posters prepared for this occasion
showed workers busy laying out a road, with a backdrop of modern
high rise buildings. The message is clear: a building site city is under
way, built with the labour and support of the people, an industrious
city that offers its inhabitants well-being and surges toward modernity.
The imagery evokes the “renaissance” (tensay) of Ethiopia and finds
an echo in another project initiated by the EPRDF, the Millennium
Dam which is supposed to be financed solely by national funds, with
the public’s contribution.28
But how to mesh urban and economic growth inside the frame of
urban poverty? What is the road to take to leave the shanty town
behind and obliterate the sometimes rural and peasant like face of the
capital? The government seeks to have Addis Ababa promoted to the
rank of a modern metropolis and become economically competitive
while maintaining social justice objectives. These ambitions may over-
reach the means and hide the weaknesses of the Ethiopian urban devel-
opment model.
Private real estate investors and promoters: new actors in the

making of the city
Long described as a town of hovels, mostly underdeveloped, the capi-
tal seems to be closing a chapter of its history by beginning a radical
transformation. The construction sector is experiencing a renewal
without precedent and participates in the renovation of the centre of
Addis Ababa.
The main instrument of urban policy is found in the landholding leg-
islation. The leasing system was initiated in 1993 and amended in
2002 to answer investors’ and the public’s needs, responding to their
wish to see a very closed real estate sector liberalized. But this liberal-
ization is quite relative and applications for leases give the city govern-
ment (AACG) the means to use its monopoly in the management of
landholding grants. These grants are made by public auction, the lands
being allotted to the highest bidder. This competition drives up prices
and whets the promoters’ appetites. By stimulating the real estate mar-
ket, the authorities face the obligation of freeing up space to build on
and offer to investors. Construction situated nearby important urban
axes has to respect construction rules, and the owners of small lots
404
have to erect buildings of at least five stories. In the case of the

Mercato, the large market and neighbourhood situated in the centre of
Addis Ababa, traders sought to organize themselves to obtain the
finance necessary for the construction of high rise buildings and face
off promoters’ appetites. But the residents’ projects are stalled in the
light of the sums available to investors who benefit from the easy credit
offered to some of them by the banks.29
The construction sector regulations favour Ethiopian companies but
permit foreign investors in the area of contracting, subject to authori-
zation by the Ministry of Works and Urban Development; most of the
foreign investors are Saudi Arabian. The promoters’ investment logic
and the origin of the funds are open to question. The building boom is
linked to the development of the banks, a sector for which the press
regularly reports considerable dividends.30 Real estate investments are
a way to acquire secure assets and avoid the effects of the devaluation
of the birr and raging inflation. Real estate holdings are very seldom
put up for sale and owners prefer to gamble on the strong demand for
office and commercial space.
Behind the high rise towers and the top end villas, smaller buildings,
with high returns, reflect the diversity of investor profiles. Without
access to bank credit, these urban entrepreneurs activate their personal
networks, often among diaspora Ethiopians, in order to collect the nec-
essary funds. More generally, the injection of diaspora fund transfers
now makes up an important part of popular incomes, as is evident
from the multiplication of transfer agencies all over the city.
The centre’s hunger for modernity leaks out to the periphery as well.
For this the AACG has programmed development by leaning on pri-
vate Real Estate Developers (RED). The Ayat Company was the first
to offer suburban villa complexes in the residential neighbourhoods sit-
uated in the eastern periphery of Addis Ababa. The housing was sold
at prices relatively accessible to the well-to-do middle classes.31 From
2005 onwards the market was opened up to other promoters, and in
just a year’s time more than a hundred REDs, often created for the
occasion, obtained licences as well as plots to build upon. The inhab-
itants of Addis Ababa were soon given advertising billboards to display
the housing projects conceived by the architects: luxurious villas nested
in secure neighbourhoods, high rises offering all of the trappings of a
“Western” lifestyle, all participating in the erection of a new and mod-
ern city.
405
The REDs aim at an international clientele, in particular members of

the diaspora who would like to establish themselves in Ethiopia but do
not want to forego their daily luxuries. The advertised prices are dis-
connected from the local market: the price of a villa ranges from 5 mil-
lion to more than 10 million birr, and a household interested in buy-
ing a studio in a building has to pay up at least 800,000 birr.32 If the
demand for very high end housing exists, it is very small, and it would
seem that the opening given to RED was overestimated. Many projects
never saw the light of day because of lack of demand and weak finan-
cial backing.
On top of this, some REDs seem to have benefited from the plots by
reselling them directly to moneyed private individuals in a hurry.
Confronted with this misconduct, the authorities increased control of
the sector by taking back the licences from those who had remained
dormant.33 The new reform promulgated in October 201134 aims to
provide a better framework for the development of a private real estate
market and put a stop to speculative and corrupt practises in which
real estate changes hands “under the counter”. The main change is the
generalization of the lease system to all landholding transactions. Fears
have been expressed about the application of this reform. While it
makes it possible to limit speculation and price increases in the infor-
mal markets, it gives urban dwellers a feeling of land insecurity: the
prospect of having to renew their land title hinging on the consent of
public authorities, and without any compensation in the case of
refusal, could discourage households’ real estate investments.
Urban renewal and the destruction of existing neighbourhoods

Addis Ababa’s centre offers startling contrasts: facing 15-plus-storey
high rises, a luxury reserved to a certain elite, there are popular bars
famous for their night time bustle. In the Bole neighbourhood, yester-
day’s vacant lots today harbour malls full of Addis Ababa’s happy few.
The AACG has undertaken since some ten years to “remake” the
city by renovating whole neighbourhoods and offering investors attrac-
tive lots. This development is in agreement with the Growth and
Transformation Plan: boosting the construction sector makes it possi-
ble to eradicate the shanty towns, to create jobs, and offers Ethiopia a
modern capital, but at what price?
The first pilot projects were the construction of the Sheraton Hotel
complex and the implementation of the Casa Incis Local Development
406
Plan.35 Renovation was done with the total destruction of the pre-
existing neighbourhoods. Such renovation programmes have been
intensified over the last few years.36 Neighbourhoods are completely
renovated, like Lideta where close to 26 hectares have been totally
demolished. The historic central districts like Arada and Arat Kilo are
planned to disappear to liberate the plots required for private investors.
In this fashion, the question of the shanty towns is resolved by radical
town planning. The inhabitants’ relocation obliges the public authori-
ties to propose a minimum compensation, in the form of housing situ-
ated in the periphery. Impact assessments37 show that maintaining a
roof does not prevent the risk of pauperization. Owners obtained finan-
cial compensation calculated on the physical worth of the property,
often ancient and therefore highly undervalued when compared with
the informal market. The lots offered are situated in non-accessible
neighbourhoods, on plots that are not equipped with basic services.
Kebele tenants, often the majority of inhabitants in the central his-
toric neighbourhoods, are put in temporary housing, on the waiting list
for possible access to a condominium dwelling. Their only recourse is
often to find a new landlord. When housing is cleared for enlarging
roads, an exceptional procedure has been put into place: instead of
relocation, kebele tenants are given a sum corresponding to three
months of rent in the private renting sector.38
The Integrated Housing Development Programme

One of the major projects of the Municipality is the collective accom-
modation construction programme, with access to ownership, involv-
ing condominiums. The programme was tried out in the Tigray region
and was largely inspired the President of the time and future city mayor
of Addis Ababa, Arqbe Oqbay. From 2004, a big information pro-
gramme encouraged the inhabitants of Addis Ababa to put their names
down on lists available in the kebeles and be eligible to participate in a
lottery. Local authorities advise tenants to organize themselves to col-
lect the necessary funds to make the first down payment.39
The large number of applicants shows the amplitude of the pro-
gramme: at the start of the programme, there were 50,000 housing
units foreseen annually, to reach a total of 350,000 units. Intensive
production is supposed to solve the housing deficit aggravated by years
of negligence. To a major and complex problem, that of the chronic
407
lack of housing, the public authorities have found a massive and one-
size-fits-all answer.
Condominiums are complexes of small high rise buildings. The out-
side corridors give onto a common courtyard. Collective facilities, such
as kitchens and wash rooms, have been designed in order to meet the
habits and customs of urban dwellers.40 Each unit has individual access
to water, and a private kitchen and bathroom. Septic tanks are set up
to collect waste waters. Condominiums seem like islands, often
enclosed neighbourhoods in the city. Condominium complexes sprout
all over the city, creating a new landscape, between gigantic undertak-
ings in the periphery41 and small complexes of two or three high rises
in the city centre, next to degraded neighbourhoods.
The allocation is done by a lottery, small units (studio and one bed-
room apartments) being set aside for the poorer households with fewer
funds, while the bigger units are reserved for better endowed house-
holds. Social plurality is in this way encouraged. The financing of the
units with greater surface area is to cover a part of the costs for the
smaller units. Despite their more affordable prices, the cramped condi-
tions of the smaller units are little adapted to the often high number of
persons per household.42 Another ambition of the programme is to
promote access to ownership, not only for financial reasons linked to
recovering the costs, but also in order to promote a new economic and
social paradigm: the state wants to create the conditions under which
urban dwellers can leave behind the instability of renting by setting
them up for the long term in the envied status of owner. But the own-
ership statutes of a condominium dwelling are regulated: on the one
hand, a condition of ownership is that households must join the co-
owners’ association, and on the other, reselling the unit is only allowed
five years after the date of purchase of the housing. Private ownership
is in this manner kept in a collective framework. However, the finan-
cial conditions demanded in order to access condominium housing
cause certain households, in particular the less well off, to refuse this
unique opportunity to accede to ownership. Condominiums are
addressed to the households of the middle classes, capable of paying a
housing unit for which the minimal cost will rise to 400,000 birr. The
public sector is progressively falling into step with the private one, dis-
tancing itself from the social ambitions it had first espoused.
408
Urban tensions and development weakness

The rebirth of the capital is made possible by an opening to a certain
liberalism played out under state control, urban renewal being one of
the main manifestations of a type of state capitalism specific to
Ethiopia. On the one hand, public authorities wish to modernize the
city by opening up to private capital, on the other, they play their role
as a powerful controlling state. Popular urban preoccupations are an
integral part of the modernizing urban policies and the condominium
housing programme appears as a counterweight to the renovations in
the capital. However, the development model shows cracks: real estate
investments without a market, unaffordable social housing, and so on.
Although there does exist a demand for office space, real estate invest-
ments seem to be destined to secure cash holdings. Many private pro-
moters encounter difficulties in finding a market, and if the diaspora
does wish to buy top-end housing the supply seems to exceed the
demand. The financial balance of the public programmes is also under
question as the Addis Ababa Municipality borrows from the banks to
finance its housing policies which end up being largely subsidized.
The land ownership issue is situated right at the heart of this prob-
lem and of the tensions created by these infrastructure policies. It has
become just about impossible for people to have access to plots in the
system defined by the public authorities. Opportunities exist, for
instance, for buying up plots in the direct periphery of Addis Ababa,
in the Oromo region. But conflicts about the legality of these plots
occupied by urban residents coming from Addis Ababa have surfaced.
The recent creation of a special administration to manage this zone
(the Oromiya special zone) is supposed to maintain peaceful relations
while shedding light on the stakes involved in the metropolitization of
Addis Ababa and its territorial development.
Increasing commercialization of housing and the emergence

of a “rental city”
In the opinion of the leaders, the question of access to ownership for
the middle and lower classes has been resolved with the implementa-
tion of the condominium programme. Would land ownership tensions
be resolved by public real estate promotion? Despite the intensive pro-
duction of condominium housing, the doubling of the selling price over
the last two years makes it difficult to access for the popular classes. A
409
study by UN Habitat43 confirms the difficulties for poor households to

become owners. Repaying the loan represents a permanent worry for
households unable to meet the monthly payments (a minimum of 100
birr for a studio) when their kebele housing cost them only 15 birr a
month. Partial or total renting of housing is the easiest solution for
nearly 70 per cent of owners of a condominium unit in order to face
the challenges of ownership. The public housing policy has therefore
had an unexpected impact: the emergence of a class of poor owners,
their real estate only generating a small rent enabling them to establish
themselves in a location. The demand for housing has found an answer
in an increased commercialization of housing, not in sales but in rent-
als. The 2007 census44 lays bare the importance of this phenomenon,
letting one think that Addis Ababa has again become the “rental city”
it was at the end of the 1960s.
The extraordinary growth of the private rental network reveals the
frenetic efforts of owners to put their property up for rent or to trans-
form a part of their housing (often the commons and the backyards) in
order to produce often not negligible income. Some households can
offer up to fifteen rooms, demanding from their tenants irreproachable
conduct (even in their personal life) and prompt payment. These
cohabitations often create conflicts between tenants and owners, the
former not accepting the controls and intrusions of the owners, the lat-
ter experiencing difficulty with this cohabitation with strangers on
their own land.
Rental agreements, when they exist, have no official worth and con-
flicts are resolved amicably. Most of the rental housing is not the sub-
ject of fiscal controls: below a certain threshold, owners are exempt
from tax on the income they derive from their rents and many declare
lower incomes. Fiscal policy seems to be rather lenient towards owner-
landlords.45 For renting households, residential trajectories become
more complex and mobility more unstable, accompanied whether they
like it or not by the ups and downs of employment. Households adapt
their housing mode to their financial situation, whereas landlords see
in their real estate financial security.
“Social safety nets” under pressure from new urban mobility

In a city mostly inhabited by tenants, deprived of secure residence, the
roles and stability of “social safety nets” based on belonging to a
neighbourhood are now in doubt. For example,46 for certain house-
410
holds, the ownership of a condominium unit enables them to become

part of a solidarity association (iddir), created upon the initiative of the
community of residents. But faced by the paying constraints of the
loan, many put their housing up for rent while still living near the con-
dominiums in order to participate in their associative life and fulfil
their ownership obligations. Others maintain links with the iddir of
their old neighbourhood to which they will have contributed for many
years, ensuring their social protection. For reasons of sociability and
good neighbourhood relations, they also forge links with the iddir of
their new residence. Residential mobility created by a growing renting
housing stock and urban renovation programmes turns upside down
the “social safety nets” born from the history of the Ethiopian town.
Despite the recomposing strength of local associations, worries persist
about the disappearance of an urban tissue that has underpinned a
social equilibrium.
Conclusion
Addis Ababa has won its bet: bedecked with the attributes of moder-
nity, it can claim its rank as an international metropolis. But if the cap-
ital is being built, the city is commercialized, becoming more difficult to
access for the popular classes. The reinvestment in the capital by the
public authorities is followed by popular practises, the rental or sale of
housing and land plots by many urban owners profiting from an inex-
haustible demand. While urban renewal takes place equally in the pub-
lic, private and popular spheres, the weak articulation between real
estate practices gives rise to strong tensions, the new territories of the
commercialized city force mobility and turn upside down “social safety
nets” inherited from a now interrupted urban history. Addis Ababa can
be seen as the black box of the urban transformations under way in the
country. Reconstruction mechanisms visible in the capital seem to be
under way in secondary towns, which are also under pressure from rad-
ical town planning and the emergence of economic liberalism.
Addis Ababa Chamber of Commerce and Sectoral Associations (2011),

Assessment of Urban Development Practices on Business Expansion in
Ethiopia.
411
AACG, 2000, Addis Ababa City Government, Office for the Revision of the
Addis Ababa Master Plan, Addis Ababa Revised Master Plan Proposals.
Draft summary.
Addis Mulugeta, 2009, “Protecting the new flower’s heritage,” Capital, 8 June

2009. http://www.capitalethiopia.com/index.php?option=com_content&vi
ew=article&id=11477:protecting-the-new-flowers-heritage&catid=12:local-
news&Itemid=4 (last access in April 2012).
Bahru Zewde, 1986, “Early Safars of Addis Ababa: Patterns of Evolution”,
Proceedings of the International Symposium of the Centenary of Addis
Ababa, Addis Ababa: Institute of Ethiopian Studies, pp. 43–55.
——— 1991, A History of Modern Ethiopia: 1855–1991, Addis Ababa
University Press.
Berhanu Zeleke, 2006, “Impacts of Urban Redevelopment on the Livelihoods
of Displaced People in Addis Ababa: the Case of Casainchis”, Master’s the-
sis, Addis Ababa University.
Berlan, E., 1963, Addis Abeba, la plus haute ville d’Afrique. Etude géogra
phique, Grenoble: Imprimerie Allier.
CSA, 1994, Central Statistical Authority, The 1994 Population and Housing
Census of Ethiopia.
Corrado, D. and Patassini, D., 1996, Urban Ethiopia: Evidences of the 1980s,

Venice: Istituto Universitario di Architettura di Venezia.

De Poix, S., 2007, “Heurs et malheurs du grand marché d’Addis Abeba face à
l’ouverture éthiopienne”, Les Cahiers d’Outre Mer, 237, pp. 41–66.
Duroyaume, P., 2009, “Social Mix Facing Urban Changes in Addis Ababa”,
Construction Ahead (Addis Ababa), 15, pp. 42–9.
Elias Yitbarek, 2008, “Revisiting Slums, Revealing Responses, Urban
Upgrading in Tenant-dominated Inner-city Settlements, in Addis Ababa,
Ethiopia”, PhD thesis, University of Trondheim, Norway.
——— 2009, “Between Renting and Owning: Saving and Credit Cooperative
Based Tenure Transformation in the Inner-City ‘Slums’ of Addis Ababa”, in
S. Ege et al. (eds), Proceedings of the 16th International Conference of

Ethiopian Studies, Trondheim, pp. 943–56.

ESA, 2009, Population Division of the Department of Economic and Social
Affairs of the United Nations Secretariat, World Population Prospects: The
2009 Revision Population Database. http://esa.un.org/ wup2009/unup/
p2k0data.asp (last access in April 2012).
Esrael Tesfaye (2005), “Illegal Land Sub-division in Addis Ababa City”,
Master’s thesis, University of Rotterdam.
Essayas Deribe, 2003, “La gestion foncière et le développement urbain dans
les villes des pays en voie de développement: le cas de la ville d’Addis
Abeba”, Université Lumière-Lyon II, France, PhD thesis.
Ezana Haddis, 2007, “An Assessment of the Working Conditions of the
Floriculture Industry: The Case of Four Flower Farms in West Showa Zone,
Oromiya Regional State”, Master’s thesis, Addis Ababa University.
Garretson, P., 2000, A History of Addis Ababa from its Foundation in 1886
to 1910, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, Aethiopistische Forschungen 49.
412
Getahun Benti, 2007, Addis Ababa: Migration and the Making of a Multiethnic
Metropolis, 1941–1974, Trenton, NJ: Red Sea Press.
Fasil Giorgis and Gerard, D., 2007, The City and its Architectural Heritage:

Addis Ababa 1886–1941, Addis Ababa: Shama Books.

Mains, D., 2011, Hope is Cut: Youth, Unemployment, and the Future in
Urban Ethiopia, Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
Meheret Ayenew, 2008, “A Review of FDRE’s Urban Development Policy”,
in Taye Assefa (ed.), Digest of Ethiopia’s Nation Policies, Strategies and
Programs, Addis Ababa: Forum for Social Studies.
Meskerem Shawul Areda (2008), “La place accordée à l’existant dans la mise
en pratique de modèles d’urbanisme: le cas d’Addis Abeba”, Université Paris
1, France, doctorate thesis.
MOFED, 2010a, Performance Evaluation of the First Five Years Development
Plan (2006–2010) and the Growth and Transformation Planning (GTP) for
the Next Five Years (2011–20015), Ministry of Finance and Economic
Development, July 2010.
Tamru, Bezunesh, 2013, Villes et territoires en Éthiopie, Paris: L’Harmattan.
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Settlement, London: Earthscan Publications Ltd.
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Cities Without Slums, Sub-Regional Programme for Eastern and Southern
Africa, Addis Ababa Slum Upgrading Programme.
Wubshet Berhanu, 2002, “Urban Policies and the Formation of Social and
Spatial Patterns in Ethiopia: the Case of Housing Areas in Addis Ababa”,
Trondheim University, PhD thesis.
413
16
THE MELES ZENAWI ERA
FROM REVOLUTIONARY MARXISM

TO STATE DEVELOPMENTALISM
Gérard Prunier
It is immediately possible to recognize the men of destiny who influ-

ence their time by the degree of passion and controversy they create.
For his detractors, Meles Zenawi was a dictator and a disaster for
Ethiopia. For his supporters and devoted followers he was a genius, a
visionary and a world class leader. One thing is sure: he did not leave
anybody indifferent. Given the short time since his death,1 it is some-
what difficult for the historian to assess the record of a man who has
had such an intense impact on the fate of his country. But one thing is
sure: the extremes of spite and adulation that he has evoked are both
misplaced. And another thing is sure: his imprint is likely to influence
the destiny of Ethiopia for many years to come.
There are four men—Emperor Menelek, Emperor Haile Selassie,
Dictator-Chairman Mengistu Haile Mariam and Prime Minister Meles
Zenawi who, for better or for worse, shaped twentieth century
415
Ethiopia. And the very evolution of their titles, from Emperor to Prime
Minister, is in itself a summary of the country’s slow climb from a tra-
ditional quasi-medieval polity to an embryonic democracy. The road
has been long, it has been full of chaos and ambushes and it is not yet
over. But Ethiopia is an age-old political structure, the longest-lasting
state in Africa and with Egypt and China, one of the oldest in the
world still in existence today. It is the only African polity which man-
aged to avoid colonization and the one which pioneered collective
African political action. It is in that long-range perspective that the
Meles Zenawi years have to be seen.
This chapter is not a research piece. It is rather a historical essay, one
could almost say a kind of philosophical musing, where we will try to
stake out the possible research field. It is an attempt at an outline of
that period, centred around the man who dominated it. Neither God
nor demon, he was a hard-boiled politician who tried to rise—rather
successfully—to the level of a statesman. He was a lonely figure on the
African continent where political “leaders” often tend to simply
manipulate situations in the hope of retaining power, without any
thought for the future. Meles wanted to remain in power of course, but
he thought about his country’s future. The question which sharply
divides his admirers from his adversaries is: what kind of a future?
Looking at his record should enable us to outline a certain profile, one
that drastically changed over time in its manifestations but neverthe-
less kept a certain continuity in its style and inspiration and whose
shadow still extended over Ethiopian politics well after his death.
Meles Zenawi as revolutionary (1975–91)

The status of the word “revolutionary” in this early part of the twenty-
first century has been subjected to a massive reinterpretation. On the
one hand the commercial vocabulary that dominates our times makes
great use of the word: everything is “revolutionary”, from genetically-
modified crops to Dreamliner jets and from smartphones to bionic
prosthesis. But this has trivialized the word, and, given the post-ideo-
logical world outlook which has become hegemonic, it has delegiti-
mized the original political meaning of the term.
Revolutions occur in the destiny of societies when they have reached
a point of blockage where the past is dying, the future is increasingly
hard to imagine from simply extrapolating the past and the present is
416
becoming unworkable. Then they explode. Social scientists (and poli-

ticians even more) are deeply divided on the historical status of revo-
lutions. For some they are a catastrophe which sets societies back hun-
dreds of years, for others (now a shrinking band, particularly since the
death of Eric Hobsbawm) they are a progressive jump forward into the
future. But these are ideological rather than analytical views. For true
historians revolutions are only critical moments in the social transfor-
mation of societies. Their ultimate fate depends on their unfolding and
not on some pre-ordained “verdict of history”. And revolutions are, in
themselves, a historically defined object. There were many fundamen-
tal revolutions in history (the development of Christianity in the sec-
ond and third centuries A.D., the spread of Islam from the seventh-to-
ninth centuries, Magna Carta in the thirteenth century, the conquest of
the Americas in the sixteenth century) which were revolutions without
that name being attributed to them. But if we narrow down that mean-
ing to significant political upheavals, without judging of their ultimate
consequences, “revolutions” as a clearly recognized syndrome began
with the French Revolution of 1789 and are still today roaming the
planet—that is, the ongoing Arab revolutions since 2010—even though
they tend to enjoy a diminishing degree of political acceptance and cul-
tural legitimacy in the contemporary world.
From Jean-Jacques Rousseau to Karl Marx, social thinkers have
given revolutions their philosophical badge of honour. And contrary
to superficial appearances, Joseph Stalin has probably been the great-
est counter-revolutionary actor of modern times. But at each step in
the history of man, if revolutionary actions were undertaken, it was
always within the framework of what was conceivable at the time. Pre-
ideological revolutions were de facto while modern ones, which tried
to create de jure situations, were attempts at adapting (imposing?) an
ideological gridlock on a concrete situation.
Ethiopia in the third quarter of the twentieth century had reached
that point of concrete blockage where young Ethiopian men and
women felt trapped and from which they tried—at times with Pro
crustean difficulties—to escape by using the framework of revolu
tionary Marxism.
It is impossible to understand the man Meles Zenawi without tak-
ing into account that particular time, to see him without understand-
ing that Zeitgeist, even if that was an ill-applying framework. A mis-
take commonly made by contemporary analysts is to judge politicians
417
sui generis, as if they were timeless a-historical characters. This is actu-

ally a disturbing trend which goes way beyond the Ethiopian question,
concerning the loss of historical relativity and the whole benefit of the
Annales school of social history. In the case of Meles this can result in
a disastrous misunderstanding because he is a perfect illustration of the
remark by the great historian Marc Bloch (1953): “Men are much
more the sons of their time than the sons of their fathers”. Meles
Zenawi came from a family that was typical of the Ethiopian post-
World War II petit-bourgeois elite of Haile Selassie’s civil society. He
was a perfect representative of the young men and women depicted in
Randi Balsvik’s (1985) study of the revolutionary student milieu of the
1950s-1970s.2 This was a milieu that was deeply influenced by a few
very basic feelings, often rationalized as ideas:
• Ethiopia, which had been the torch-bearer of the African continent
since the days of Adwa and the creation of the OAU, was falling
hopelessly behind. The failure of the 1960 coup by the Neway broth-
ers was seen as a tragedy.3
• But this failure was seen by the students as explainable: the Neway
brothers had been petty-bourgeois revolutionaries, they had not been
guided by the invincible light of proletarian revolution.
• The Ethiopian student elite lived in an intellectual world where Karl
Marx was God and his prophets were called Lenin, Mao-Zedong,
Ho Chi Minh, Fidel Castro and Samora Machel.
• A particular problem of the revolution in Ethiopia was thought to be
its ability to deal with the “national question” (in the sense given to
this expression by a whole line of socialist thinkers going from Otto
Bauer to Joseph Stalin by way of Vladimir Illyich Lenin, Karl Renner,
the left-wing Zionists of Hachomer Hatzair and Andrés Nin). The
one thing all had had in common had been to criticize the dominance
of the state by a social/regional sub-group, whether the Austro-
Hungarians, the “Great Russians”, the Gentile reactionaries or the
Castilians as the case might be. In the Ethiopian case it was the
Amhara, usually called “the Shoans” to accentuate their sub-sub-
regional nature. Given the haunting problem of the Eritrean insur-
rection, any revolutionary movement would have had to deal with
that sore that infected the Ethiopian polity. The problem was that all
the authors mentioned above had a disturbing tendency to disagree
with each other and to differ on the nature of the remedies they
advocated. This would bring the Ethiopian student revolutionaries
418
to painful—and at times tragic—disagreements on the subject. From

the ELF to the EPRP and from Mei’son to the TPLF, the different
interpretations of the accursed “national question” would lead to
much bloodshed and to an array of rancour which is still far from
extinguished today.
• In addition, all the would-be revolutionaries were fiercely national-
istic. They resented the nobility but idolized its national heroes—
even if these got differential treatment depending on who was the
admiring group: the contradictory views regarding such a major his-
torical character as Ras Alula are a case in point.4
It is impossible to understand Meles Zenawi without seeing him in
the global perspective of the five points mentioned above.
When the revolution finally broke out in 1974, it was in a turmoil
of contradictions which did not resemble the sacralized “proletarian
insurrection” of the Marxist model. It was a mixture of working class
demonstrations embedded in an embryonic bourgeois revolution in the
capital, the whole thing being framed inside a military revolt and a
broader peasant jacquerie. All this silhouetted against the haunting
background of a potentially secessionist sub-national armed insurrec-
tion and the prospect of half-a-dozen more in the making. It was not
only the domination of the aristocracy that was cracking up but the
makings of the Empire itself. Given this overwhelming nature of the
national question, a lot of the revolutionary struggles happened not
nationally—as was the case with Mei’son or the EPRP—but within
sub-nationally defined constituencies, whether Oromo, Tigrayan,
Eritrean or Somali. It was a mish-mash of social revolution, political
upheaval, military coup and regionalist uprisings.
Meles Zenawi was Tigrayan, so he became a Tigrayan revolutionary.
And being a Marxist like most of his young educated contemporaries,
he became a Marxist Tigrayan revolutionary. Something neither clear-
cut nor easy to define. Part of the problem was that he was both very
young and what the great Italian Marxist thinker Antonio Gramsci5
called an “organic intellectual”, that is, somebody who was half-edu-
cated (he had only started his first year at university) but whose social
position and intellectual make-up enabled to express the deep unspo-
ken aspirations and ideals of those less educated than him. The most
immediate problem was how the global revolutionary struggle would
be articulated with the problem of sub-national determination: to
make it plain, should the organization he had just joined—the TPLF—
419
fight to revolutionize Ethiopia or to secede from it? In fact, inasmuch

as we can know it given the fairly secretive nature of the TPLF, it
seems that there was a progressive evolution of the top TPLF leader-
ship circles on the question. In the early days—1975 to 1985—the out-
look was more in favour of promoting a sort of “Tigrayan nationalist
feeling” which did not exclude secession but did not clearly promote
it.6 The TPLF surfed on the memories of the abortive Tigrayan upris-
ing of 1943 and its subsequent violent repression by Haile Selassie.7 It
called itself “Kela’aye Weyane” or “the second woyane” in order to
base itself on what Tigrayan historian Gebru Tareke very aptly calls “a
foundation myth”.8
All myths are multi-faceted and open to variable interpretations and
this was the case with “Kela’aye Weyane” which managed to slide
slowly from Tigrayan ethno-nationalism to pan-Ethiopian nationalism.
This would of course leave a long aftertaste and it remained ambigu-
ous not only during the years of fighting9 but even following the TPLF
victory, even though by then the TPLF had enlarged itself into the
multi-ethnic EPRDF.
What of Meles himself during this long period of nearly sixteen
years? This is where the glorification/demonization of the man starts.
For his enemies (including some Tigrayans like Aregawi Berhe) he was
a wolf in sheep’s clothing, hiding his secessionist aims under the man-
tle of a fake nationalism. But for his supporters, he had never been
anything but an ardent Ethiopian nationalist. The truth obviously
stands in the middle: Meles was a supreme tactician and he was
remarkable at sensing how far he could go on a precise issue. Back in
the pre-1985 days, the ambiguities of the ethno-nationalist myth suited
him fine in that they were a key component of the Front’s capacity to
survive and grow in his peasant environment. But by 1985, the
strengthening of the TPLF, the advent of perestroika in the Soviet
Union, the weakening of the socialist camp in the Cold War and the
visible failure of the Mengistu dictatorship at all levels—social, eco-
nomic, military and diplomatic—all pointed to the same direction: a
toning down both of the socialist rhetoric and of the ethno-nationalist
agenda. Victory was at hand but victory for what? Some aims were
obvious: an end to the war in Eritrea, an end to the internal violence
of the dictatorship, a new diplomatic deal with the international com-
munity and a rebuilding of the economy. But within what regional/
national framework and through what kind of governance? That was
not clear.
420
Meles Zenawi and the problems of early post-war Ethiopian

governance (1991–98)
Ethiopia was then an age-old polity and Meles was a (somewhat sub-
dued) young revolutionary. The problem was in marrying the two.
This was particularly true if we understand that this revolution was
unfinished. The case of a completely finished revolution applies to
China, which in 1949 was free to open a completely new chapter of its
long national saga. The fact that after 1976 it chose to re-interpret the
meaning of what it had done between 1919 and 1949 is quite another
story. Other choices could possibly have been made. But there were
few unavoidable constraints on its choices. On the contrary, if we look
at France as it emerged from its revolution in 1815, we can see that it
was only half-digested. It took over half a century, till the showdown
that led to the 1877 de facto marginalization of President MacMahon,
to establish a stable regime that embodied the results of the revolution.
And even then, pre-revolutionary hiccups would always be ready to re-
emerge, such as when the collapse of the French Army facing German
invasion in 1940 became an occasion to re-create a regime which, in
many of its aspects, reincarnated many of the counter-revolutionary
traits of pre-1789 France. Russia is an interesting case of a disinte-
grated revolution that finally brought the country to a point that
would probably have been reached anyway, even if the revolution had
never taken place, and later attempted to both disavow its revolution-
ary past while at the same time glorifying it. In the case of Ethiopia, the
problem was different: the revolution had destroyed a certain social
order but had failed to institutionalize a new one, it had violently upset
the premises of the agrarian economy of yesterday but without giving
it a new stability, and it had destroyed a governance system without
creating an alternate one. Worse, it had addressed the fearsome
“national question” but without solving it.10 And even worse than all
that, it had completely failed to create a living civil society.
This is the situation Meles Zenawi had to face in order to reorganize
Ethiopia after 1991. The very fact that this last sentence can be writ-
ten is a testimony to the depth of the problem. Why Meles Zenawi?
Why only him? Why not the whole political movement he was associ-
ated in with his comrades? Because he was there and he had in his
hands—and knew how to use it—that magical element of Habesha cul-
ture, mengist, that is, “power” or “control”, the key to fifteen centu-
ries of Abyssinian survival. And that was because mengist in Ethiopia
421
has never relied on a non-existent civil society or even on embryonic

social classes, but rather on the army and on the state apparatus. Of
course it is possible to fantasize on the feasibility of a different gover-
nance dispensation which would have been more democratic, more
articulated around an extended network of governance agents reach-
ing far into the social and political landscape. And here again we touch
on the demonization/adulation directed at the man Meles: was it pos-
sible to imagine such a form of governance? Were there bases for the
immediate creation of at least an embryonic democratic state? What
were the social and human elements that were available to ensure the
continuity of the Ethiopian state which is the be-all and end-all of all
forms of governance since the days of Axum? Did Meles choose
authoritarianism or could he have gone another way? What social
forces could he have used to promote a different choice of gover-
nance?11 There are no simple answers to these basic questions.
Back in 1991 the landscape was not very encouraging: there were
various ethno-nationalist groupings, the TPLF army and guerrilla
structure command, an embryo EPRDF which was little more than a
gaggle of war prisoners and Johnny-come-lately politicians, a friendly
but now distant Eritrea, frustrated remnants of the revolutionary
groupings defeated by the Derg and a diaspora which had no sympa-
thy for what it saw as Tigrayan control of the Ethiopian state, a kind
of comeback which had somehow re-linked with the Tigrayan hege-
mony gone since the death of Yohannes IV in 1889. Worse, there was
no social class ready to support the new regime—or to take over in
case of its collapse. Once more, as many times in the Ethiopian past, it
was a choice between an authoritarian order and the danger of state
and national dissolution. In a cultured Ethiopian mind the ghost of
Zemene mesafint, the princely anarchy of the late eighteenth and early
nineteenth century,12 remains as the ultimate existential fear. It is
recalled somewhat like the anarchy of the Southern Song dynastic
period or the warlord era of 1919–37 in China: death, death not only
of men—these can be seen as replaceable in the long-term perspec-
tive—but the death of the state, the death of the nation itself, the
demise of the common collective identity. This exact same phenome-
non happening in neighbouring Somalia exactly at that same moment
was a haunting shadow in the regional landscape.
These were the constraints of the times. Many of Meles’ critics point
out the authoritarian structure he put in place after 1991 and lament
422
his not sufficiently promoting democracy. When kept within reason

these criticisms do have a point. But a limited point only: 1991 Ethiopia
was not a tabula rasa where the seeds of democracy were there, just
waiting to be watered by a benign hand in order to sprout. 1991
Ethiopia was a mess and a nightmare to organize.13 One had limited
choices. Was Meles authoritarian by nature? This is a question that is
hard to answer. But what he certainly was, in a most visible way, was
a pragmatist. And he had remained both a “revolutionary” and a
nationalist. A revolutionary definitely not in the Marxist sense of the
word, even if this was not so much by choice as by force. The tools, the
manner, the design of a Marxist “dictatorship of the proletariat” were
still in his hands. But not the program. He had the instruments but no
more clearly-known part to play as the world-wide “socialist camp”
had collapsed in the meantime. And the public was far from being uni-
formly supportive. The strength of Meles in these difficult days was
that his enemies were confused and divided, ranging from Western-
oriented democrats to nostalgic far-leftists by way of disgruntled ethno-
nationalists and opportunistic fellow-travellers who were looking for
an opportunity to ditch him. Among his trump cards were his tight
party organization, his military strength and his supreme skill at play-
ing the international community to make it dance to his music. But was
there a real choice at the time between “democracy” and “dictator-
ship” as many of his critics insisted? Probably not. “Democracy”, in
the Western sense of the word, was not a readily available option in
Ethiopia in 1991 since none of its necessary underpinnings—a liberal
bourgeoisie, a civil society, a semi-educated working class, an embry-
onic national political tradition (as was the case for example in neigh-
bouring Sudan)—were even remotely operational. Obstacles were many
and the tools to overcome them were all more or less authoritarian.
Just as Meles had successfully muddled through in his management
of the TPLF fighting years, he was going to attempt to muddle through
the power that had now finally fallen into his hands and those of his
comrades. But he realized—and some of his friends also did—that some
kind of coalition politics was now in order. But did “coalition” then
mean power-sharing? This was the key difficulty. He had tried at first
when the OLF14 had been associated with the government as a separate
and allied body. Within a few months, this alliance had proved impos-
sible because the OLF wanted to bite more than it could chew. Given
the demographic weight of the Oromo, there was a rough democratic
423
logic to this. But given the internal confusion and contradictions the
OLF represented that it was a practical impossibility since the OLF
itself was incapable of locally carrying out the democracy that it
demanded to see the Transitional Government practice.15 If the OLF
was too big and at the same time too confused and too unwieldy to be
able to convincingly rise up to a partnership role in a coalition govern-
ment, the political positioning of the Amhara (and even more of the
“Amharized”)16 was quite distinct. Mengistu’s policy of “nation build-
ing” had in fact been a “socialist” rehash of the old Amhara-centred
centralist imperial policy practiced in Ethiopia since the death of
Yohannes IV in 1889. This group, especially the “Amharized”, was the
strongest advocate of democracy and would indeed have been its main
beneficiaries had it managed to be developed along Western lines. Their
educational level and their degree of past political experience would
automatically have put them at the top of the social pyramid. But
Mengistu’s reliance on them during the Derg years had been a two-
edged sword: it ensured their social survival in a terrible time but also
fed the resentment of the peripheral ethnic groups who were increas-
ingly discriminated against in the name of the national(ist) interest. The
bevy of ethno-nationalistic groups at the forefront of politics in 1991
was in itself a sub-product of the differential treatment the Amhara(ized)
had enjoyed during the years 1977–1991. Handling that nexus of com-
peting ethno-nationalisms garbed in democratic clothing was akin to
handling a cactus without protecting gloves.17
Meles was in a paradoxical situation: he had to satisfy his primary
Tigrayan clientele while trying at the same time to build a trans-ethnic
alliance with Amhara who dreamed of eliminating the Tigrayans to
regain their old dominant position, with Oromo who would have liked
to eliminate both the Tigrayans and the Amhara and with a multiplic-
ity of minor ethnic groups who saw “democracy” mostly in terms of
regional/local autonomy and often failed to see any further. His
(imperfect) answer was to keep power strongly centralized at the cen-
tre while subcontracting variable pieces of it to the regions/ethnic
groups in the name of the “ethnic federalism” system.18 This was far
from the democratic image used for foreign consumption. But it was
realistic in terms of dealing with the age-old problem of Ethiopian gov-
ernance.19 Particularly since we have so far spoken only about gover-
nance without mentioning the two other main problems that the
Transitional Government was facing in those years.
424
First, at the domestic level, the economic situation was disastrous.

At the time of the collapse of the Mengistu regime there were only a
few million dollars of foreign exchange left, barely enough to pay for
a week of imports. And on the debit side, there was a $7bn debt. The
infrastructure was either damaged by the war or neglected in peaceful
areas because all the financial resources of the communist regime had
been absorbed at first in incoherent economic reforms, and later in the
war. The men coming to power and put in charge of the economy,
such as Kassu Ilala or Tamrat Layne, had no idea of how to deal with
the situation. Their economic expertise was close to zero and many
had spent years reading Marxist classics which had no relevance to the
realities they were now supposed to be dealing with. Meles was
roughly aware of this but did not yet comprehend all the complex ele-
ments that he was responsible for handling.20
In addition to these difficulties the new honeymoon with Eritrea
which had started in 1988 was quickly turning bitter. Issayas Afeworqi
had a crude vision of his “big brother/small brother” relationship with
Ethiopia which was roughly that of Mussolini back in 1936: Eritrea
had to be the industrial power base of the Ethiopian ensemble, with
Abyssinia and the South constituting both a large market for Eritrean
manufactured goods and a source of cheap agricultural products.21
This view of institutionalized imperialist inequality might have been
more or less feasible in 1936 but in 1991 it made strictly no sense. And
this increasing tension ran, in part, around the importance of economic
investment in Tigray. For reasons of domestic governance, Meles had
reserved a large slice of the investment pie for Tigray22 and this had led
the relationship with Issayas23 into a progressive slide from recrimina-
tion to threats, to military gesticulation and finally to a face-off that
was going to result in open warfare. Paradoxically, although Meles
Zenawi was routinely accused by his detractors of being an Eritrean
puppet, his real position was completely contradictory: Issayas kept
reproaching him for “ingratitude” and for “anti-Eritrean invest-
ments”24 while many of his comrades saw him on the contrary as “soft
on Eritrea”. Why so? Mainly because (and that is only my own inter-
pretation) he realized that a war would have no winners but only los-
ers, which eventually proved to be the case. He tried to humour and
pacify his northern cousin as much as he could. But when the Eritreans
decided, out of counterproductive nationalistic feeling, to have their
own currency, he insisted that the Ethiopian birr and the Eritrean
425
nakfa should have a floating rate of exchange, knowing full well that
a fixed one would play massively in Asmara’s favour.
These were the broad constraints of the first seven years of the
EPRDF regime in Ethiopia. During those years, Meles was not the
overwhelming multi-dimensional leader that he was eventually to
become later. A whole array of men such as Seye Abraha, Tewolde
Wolde Mariam, Seyoum Mesfin, Sebhat Nega, Kinfe Gebre Medhin,
Gebru Asrat, Abay Tsehay, Kuma Demeksa, Girma Biru, Bereket
Simon, Samora Yunus or Tsadkan Gebre Kidan were vastly instrumen-
tal in defining the various policies of the state. But they soon were all
plunged into a new war in May 1998, from which the role of the Prime
Minister was eventually to emerge transformed and strengthened
through the fiery blast of the conflict’s furnace.
War and the emergence of Meles Zenawi as undisputed leader

(1998–2005)
The 1998–2000 Ethio-Eritrean war was an undiluted disaster in that,
after it killed a minimum of 50,000 people and wasted at least $4.5bn,
no war aims of any kind had been attained by either side after two
years of conflict. The war had given Meles an edge of authority in a sit-
uation where all opposition had suddenly disappeared (temporarily)
for patriotic reasons. But another effect of the war was the impact it
had on the domestic politics of both countries. We have already docu-
mented what happened in Eritrea in September 2001 in the relevant
chapter. But in Ethiopia proper the effect was comparable, even if its
consequences eventually proved much less severe.
The 2001 TPLF’s internal crisis. In March 2001, a group of TPLF dis-
sidents headed by former Defence Minister Siye Abraha tried to depose
Prime Minister Meles Zenawi by way of an internal bureaucratic coup.
There were roughly three issues: (1) the dissidents accused the PM of

“being soft on Eritrea”;25 (2) they accused him of a rightward drift;

(3) they said he had become too subservient to the United States.26 They

were eventually counterchecked by the PM’s allies (even though it was

a pretty close shave) and were all arrested. But the opposition used this
political uncertainty to egg on the student community—which had quite
a separate quarrel with the government and particularly its unpopular
Minister for Education Gennet Zewde—and got the students to take to
426
the street on 17 April. In the climate of tension resulting from the TPLF
bureaucratic mutiny, the police lost all control, killed 41 demonstrators,
wounded about 400 and arrested 3,000. In the following weeks several
leading intellectuals were arrested (supposedly for having incited the
students), many journalists were detained and the President of the
Republic (Dr Negasso Gidada) was deposed and kicked out of the

party. His was a largely honorary position but this action showed that
the repression would not fear to strike high.
The next few months were spent in endless debates (the famous TPLF
practice of gimgima, which is supposed to yield consensus through ani-
mated confrontation) but by September Meles had regained full control
of the political scene and put his own trusted allies in key positions.
Nevertheless, this had been a close call: many of the dissenters who had
tried to eliminate the PM (Tewolde Wolde Mariam, Gebru Asrat, Betew
Belay) were among his closest associates and it showed that the solidity
of the state rested on a fairly brittle foundation. The TPLF was the core
of the EPRDF and if it had broken into pieces, the whole structure of
the party-state as it existed since 1991 could have fallen apart.
Nothing in the past experience of Meles Zenawi had pushed him
towards democracy. As a guerrilla leader, as the leading member of a
revolutionary state trying to rebuild something out of the ruins, and
recently as a war leader, all his life and experiences had tended to place
him squarely within the authoritarian tradition of Ethiopian governance
that he had inherited from his forebears. The only democratic space he
knew—a rather peculiar one—was the TPLF one. And within 48 hours
he had been forced to realize that this democratic space which he
thought he could trust could suddenly bend back and turn against him.
What then could he expect from the opposition—which usually used a
rather radical vocabulary, even if it was at the service of the most con-
servative causes—if his own and closest friends could plot his elimina-
tion ahead of a party congress? There is no doubt that intellectually
Meles agreed with the necessity of democracy. But what did it actually
mean for him in a polity where the dog-eat-dog approach seemed prev-
alent, in spite of all the nice politically correct discourses?
There is no doubt that the Ethiopian state, as it evolved from his
hands after the March–April 2001 crisis, was authoritarian. Human
rights were not his main concern—that is an understatement—and
repressive legislation and practice (on the press, on personal rights, on
political activity) were common. The question is how did he see it?
427
Was it for him a tool towards indefinitely staying in power or was it

an instrument towards the transformation of Ethiopia? The opposi-
tion, particularly the diaspora opposition, would undoubtedly answer
the first question affirmatively. And this could be understood: it was a
daring and uncomfortable thing to stand in the way of Prime Minister
Meles Zenawi. But if we look at what happened later—and particu-
larly after 2005—this seems unlikely. The problem of Meles seems to
have been this: he wanted both economic development and the growth
of democracy. But which one should come first?
The 2005 elections. The 2005 elections were to bring things to a head.
In an unprecedented move, the EPRDF regime—which since the
March–April 2001 crisis had been largely a reflection of Meles’ own
decisions and philosophy—decided to finally opt for a free and fair
election, no matter what the consequences might be.
Facing the EPRDF, the opposition managed to regroup itself into
two broad coalitions, the Coalition for Unity and Democracy (CUD)
and the United Ethiopian Democratic Forces (UEDF).27 Neither of
those were real “political parties”. They were groupings which, in their
diversity and contradictions, reflected the social, ethnic and historical
inheritance of the Ethiopian past. Within the CUD the two main par-
ties in the coalition, the AEUP and EUDP-Medhin—itself an amalgam
of four parties—were both in competition for Amhara support. As for
the UEDF, it was a regrouping of a large Oromo party, the Oromo
National Congress (ONC) of Merera Gudina, and the SEPDC of the
veteran anti-EPRDF opponent Beyene Petros. But the SEPDC itself was
also a coalition of fourteen small ethnic parties. Thus, like a series of
Russian dolls, the opposition forces were conglomerates of smaller
units with different views and aims, which were only united in their
desire to see the EPRDF lose power and which, even though temporar-
ily linked by an electoral pact, could have no reasonable prospect of
serious collaboration in an eventual government of national unity.
The CUD and the UEDF, the two largest units, represented two very
distinct strands of opposition to the EPRDF. In their various incarna-

tions which differed in age and social status, the parties making up the
CUD wanted changes in the constitution limiting regional autonomy,
removing ethnicity from the federal status and abolishing article 39 of
the constitution which allowed the right of secession for a regional
state.28 This was largely seen as a return to the past, almost to the
428
structure of the imperial regime, with the implicit vision of a single

Amhara-speaking Ethiopian polity. And this was completely unaccept-
able to the UEDF which stood for the defence of the non-Amhara eth-
nic groups, a position paradoxically closer to the EPRDF’s own plural-
ist vision than to that of its opposition allies. Thus the accursed
“nationalities question” which had been a key element in the starting
of the revolution had returned to haunt the first seriously contested
democratic election of the post civil war years.
For the outside observers of the international community, this was
quite difficult to perceive. They tended to see the electoral contest in
terms of democracy (opposition) versus authoritarianism (EPRDF),
which in itself was not an entirely false perception. But it was only a
partial one since they did not realize the heavy historical baggage each
side was lugging along. And Meles Zenawi, as a deeply Abyssinian
structured political/historical personality, could not see it the same
way. Yes, he represented an authoritarian form of rule. But he also
represented the continuity of the Ethiopian state. Was the opposition
capable of incarnating either a change or an alternative to that rigid
survivalist choice? Back in May 2005, the question had been an open
one. But the handling of its own success by the opposition threw this
democratic alternative into disarray.
When official results were announced in August, the EPRDF was
declared to have won 327 seats after 31 constituencies had to be re-run
following contestations. The opposition was said to have won 174
seats (CUD 109, UEDF 52, OFDM 11 and others 2). It did not accept
this tally and decided to contest it in the courts.
Whether this was right or not is hard to say since the results of the
2005 elections were never objectively and dispassionately examined.
But the handling of these confused and contradictory results was in
itself revealing.
Almost immediately after the voting, and in defiance of a ban on
demonstrations, the CUD launched several public demonstrations.
Security forces opened fire killing some 40 demonstrators. Then the
two opposition coalitions engaged in a loud and acrimonious debate
on whether to join parliament when it opened on 11 October or not.
The UEDF argued for participation while the leadership of the CUD,
and in particular its hapless chairman Hailu Shawel, backed a boycott
on grounds that the results were fraudulent and that the EPRDF had
no intention of allowing the opposition to play any realistic role in par-
429
liament. The CUD decision to boycott parliament led to a split in the

CUD during October as many members and its executive council did
not agree.
Then to make things even worse, there was an attempt to merge the
four CUD parties into a single organization, which EUDP-Medhin saw
as an attempt by Hailu Shawel and the AEUP to take control of the
CUD. This was disastrous. The election had been free even though

probably not fair. But instead of bringing the various strands of the
opposition together to a high vantage point from which they could
criticize the obviously defensive and not very democratic reactions of
the EPRDF, it led to an explosion of factionalism which discredited the
opposition at the very moment it should have risen to a responsible
level that would have made it look like a believable alternative to the
government. For example, in spite of the fact that the opposition had
swept the floor of the Addis Ababa Municipal Council, no opposition
party was able to muster the necessary quorum to take up the admin-
istration of the capital city.
The democratic progress which had been the most impressive fact in
the strong opposition results was wasted because that same opposition
could not decide whether it was revolutionary or democratic, capable
of handling a partial victory or not, and prepared to participate rather
than to boycott. The net result was that, in spite of the overreaction of
the security forces,29 the opposition spoiled its impressive showing by
a display of contradictory factionalism betraying its immaturity. It was
seen as not so much the bearer of new distinct policy elements but
rather the expression of a visceral rejection of what had happened
since 1991—and perhaps even since 1974.
Should this disaster for democracy be attributed to the Prime
Minister or to the opposition? Probably to both. To the debit of Meles
Zenawi one has to admit that he had done nothing in the preceding
years to promote the kind of civil society which could have laid the
ground favouring the growth of a pre-party social/political develop-
ment. And as far as the opposition is concerned, it displayed neither
long-term political maturity nor short-term tactical sense. In its defence
one should remember that absolutely nothing in the country’s modern
history had prepared it to realistically deal with a genuine democratic
contest. In a typically binary vision of good versus evil which bor-
rowed its terms from Abyssinian religious culture, it did not see itself
as a complement or even as a relative alternative to the regime it was
430
challenging, but rather as qeddus Giyorgis, the Archangel in shining

armour about to set right everything that had been done wrong. These
were not democratic political terms but theological ones and the result
was not so much a victory for the EPRDF as a defeat for democracy.
The whole terms of the contest had been handled so poorly by both
sides that the outcome was a setback for the very idea of democracy
which, like “socialism” a few years before, began to look like a fake
God from the point of view of the ordinary Ethiopian peasant masses.
As for Meles himself, this probably comforted him in the view that
democracy was a rich man’s toy and that the true problem of Ethiopia
was economic.
Towards a new economic strategy. The year 2002 had been the year
in which the per capita income of Ethiopians had reached its lowest
point since the revolution, whether we use the non-compensated direct
dollar Atlas method ($120) or the compensated PPP method ($550).30
The economy was a disaster as this had probably played an added role
in the strong showing of the opposition during the election.
Now that the opposition had largely self-destroyed,31 the Prime
Minister could turn his attention to the economy. In a way, this was a
reflection of his lifelong exposure to Marxism: all societies are a prod-
uct of the arrangement of their forces of production. But this being
said, it left the door open for various forms of interpretation of that
basic dictum. And although he never acknowledged it in such clear
terms it seems probable that his evaluation probably concurred with
that of Deng Xiaoping when he had to deal with the heritage of
Maoism. Like China, Ethiopia was the heir to centuries-old cultural
traits, embedded in political traditions that remained the bedrock of
any later political transformations, including “Marxist” revolutions.
Like China it had to deal with a largely peasant economy and like
China it feared that ditching the resilient elements of the existing one-
party state could prove disastrous for the state itself in the long run.
Like China it had to make sure it could feed its large peasant masses
and like China it had to climb out of the underdevelopment ditch, at
first by way of heavy infrastructure investments.32
The time had now come for the priority turning towards a main eco-
nomic thrust. We will not examine here Meles’ economic policies as
this is done elsewhere.33 But, in line with this attempt at assessing
Meles Zenawi’s global record, we have to understand what it meant
within his own perspective. Meles Zenawi was both a pragmatist and
431
a revolutionary. In his view this emphasis on the economy—which he

doubtlessly considered as more important than his commitment to
democracy—had to be both pragmatic and radical. Hence the groping
for an overall strategy which, given its repeated partial failures, led him
to move from ADLI to the present GTP by way of several other partial
temporary attempts. For Meles it is clear that two things were out of
the question:
1. A laissez-faire attitude that would wait till private partial initiatives
would, of themselves and by themselves, concur in a “natural”
development through the agency of Adam Smith’s “unseen hand”.
2. On the opposite side, joining the neo-liberal economic new world
order promoted by the United States and its financial extensions,
the World Bank and the IMF. From that point of view it is very typ-

ical to see how the disaffected former IMF Chief Economist Joseph
Stiglitz warmly embraced Meles’s policies, to the dismay of the
opposition and the EPRDF’s satisfaction.
Meles’ switch to a mainly economic approach of Ethiopia’s peren-
nial problems was not a rupture in his line of thinking. His pragmatism
had caused him to ditch the concept of a nationalized command econ-
omy back in the early 1990s. But it did not mean that this had led him
to embrace the new economic world view of his American ally in
exchange. Just as for the Chinese, state capitalism and a semi-com-
mand economy had become his chosen path towards economic devel-
opment. In a variety of guises, this has been a fall-back path of choice
for the BRICS, with an array of colours ranging from full-fledged state-
capitalism in the case of China to a largely liberal approach in the case
of India. Ethiopia is definitely closer to the Chinese model. And, just
like its model, it is now bumping its head on a variety of dysfunctions
accruing from the centralized control nature of the project. Lack of
democracy, civil rights negligence, preference for numbers over quality
in terms of training, a quantitative rather than a qualitative approach
to progress, civil service corruption, all these “Chinese” problems exist
on a smaller, rougher scale in Ethiopia.
The loneliness of the long-distance runner: Meles Zenawi’s last years

(2005–2012)
The late Prime Minister’s adversaries will put all the dysfunctions of
the system to his debit while his supporters will insist that the results
432
are a nearly blameless tale of constant progress and undiluted suc-

cesses. These are the views of polemics and of politics, not the judge-
ment of history. And when we think of Meles, of his place and role in
the long history of Ethiopia, it is difficult—and probably premature—
to establish a firm and definitive diagnosis.
But one thing is sure: the man has put a strong imprint on his time,
probably the strongest one in Ethiopia since Emperor Menelik saved his
country from falling into the hands of the conquering European pow-
ers in the nineteenth century. Retrospectively, it is only too easy to
establish the list of Menelik’s shortcomings: his manipulative approach
to his entourage, his almost complete lack of interest in the ordinary
gebbar peasant population or his brutal subjugation of the Southern
regions. But without him, or with a lesser man at the helm of the
Empire in the 1890s, Ethiopia would most likely have disappeared, par-
titioned between Britain and Italy. The main problem of his age was
what Sven Rubenson (1976) has felicitously called The Survival of
Ethiopian Independence. But later, things changed. After World War
Two and with decolonization, the parameters were transformed. The
threat did not come from outside any more, it came from inside, from
the difficulty of the African continent to rise to the level where it could
handle its own problems in a reasonably autonomous way.
Meles was deeply conscious of the problem of economic backward-
ness, and in his post-Marxist revolutionary way did not want to
attempt to solve it either through a nineteenth century “classical”
national capitalist approach or through the globalized transnational
financial version of the New World Order. He strove for an indepen-
dent path of a somewhat “Chinese” state capitalist nature. This might
work or it might not. We are still in media res, in the middle of things,
at the time of writing. And the work of the contemporary historian is
not to be a crystal ball gazing prophet but rather an attentive observer
and record keeper of his times. But what we can already say is that
Meles tried to shoulder a huge burden. His methods were definitely not
choosy and his tactics were rough. But his strategy was daring and car-
ried a vision. Hence his loneliness, because the top is always lonely. It
is not certain that his successors clearly know what to do with his
inheritance and their extreme praise of his memory might well be an
effort at postponing things in the hope of finding a sequential strategy.
Which is not an easy thing. Since the independence of the 1960s, how
many African heads of state have had the courage, wisdom and lucid-
433
ity to take things back to the drawing board? The rough attempts run
from Kwame Nkrumah to Thomas Sankara by way of Julius Nyerere
and they are littered with the corpses of disastrously false solutions on
the Mugabe or Mengistu model. Meles imposed an authoritarian
developmentalist vision on the Ethiopian landscape and definitely con-
sidered that this was the priority of priorities.
His human rights shortcomings have to be judged in this perspective.
As the inheritor of a Marxist revolutionary tradition, he was obviously
impatient with “bourgeois” rights. This was a grave shortcoming
because the very nature of advanced development implies access and
expansion to these rights as they condition the functioning of a free
economy. This is a discovery the Chinese themselves are now painfully
making. We can speculate that if Meles had lived longer he might have
become aware of this necessity. Another area of complete neglect in his
approach is the problem of demographic increase. Ethiopia had around
35 million inhabitants before the revolution and it has over 95 million
today. Such a population explosion is not sustainable because it eats
up the benefits of economic growth. Meles would answer remarks to
this effect with the quip that another mouth to feed meant another pair
of arms at work. This was a typically anti-Malthusian remark coming
from his revolutionary background. Mao-Zedong used to reason along
exactly the same line of thought but Deng-Xiaoping put an end to it
with the single child policy; and one can consider that this has been
one of the key factors that allowed the enormous expansion of the
Chinese economy over the last thirty years. Meles Zenawi steered
Ethiopia roughly in the right direction but a lot of such fine tuning—
financing the GTP, reconciling a modicum of respect for human rights
and democratic process with a firm sort of governance, a massive eco-
logical effort without which the Ethiopian land resources will not sur-
vive population growth—remains to be done.
Meles’ mastery of international and African affairs. In roughly sketch-

ing this major era of Ethiopian history, there is one element we have
so far neglected: international relations. Why? Because international
relations have probably been more peaceful and less threatening for
Ethiopia in the Meles Zenawi years than they have been at any point
since the Zemene Mesafint period. Since 1991 Ethiopia has known no
threat comparable to the Egyptian attacks of Khedive Isma’il in the
1870s or the threat of the Mahdists in the 1880s. Post-Berlin
Conference European imperialism, Italian fascism or the regional
434
effects of the Cold War had been haunting problems. And Meles’ rise
to power coincided with the collapse of the international communist
system while the later rise of Muslim fundamentalism—perhaps the
greatest internal rather than external threat to the Ethiopian polity
today—had so far spared Ethiopia. Ethiopia under Meles Zenawi has
been roughly at peace and more or less assured of remaining so in the
foreseeable future. This gave him an amount of leeway his predeces-
sors would have envied.
Meles was a master player of the diplomatic game and he managed
both to charm the international community and to use it for Ethiopia’s
benefit. Contrary to legend he was not the Horn of Africa tool of US
policy that his adversaries tried to portray. He was useful to the
Americans but he certainly got more from them in terms of economic
aid and diplomatic support than he provided them with. His handling
of global African issues put him in a kind of primus inter pares posi-
tion vis-à-vis Africa and the rest of the world which was somehow
reminiscent of Haile Selassie’s. He stood for Africa (even if his real
African concerns were solidly regional) and tried to interpret it to the
rest of the world. This was not entirely convincing and he probably
knew it. But it earned him a lot of goodwill accruing from the confused
guilt feelings of the West and he used it to good advantage.
His twin (manageable) headaches were the Sudan and Somalia. He
handled the Sudan masterfully, at first using the Islamist regime in his
fight against Mengistu and then later diversifying his support for the
Sudanese rebels to put sufficient pressure on Beshir’s regime to smooth
the post-CPA period after 2005 and sponsor the 2011 independence
referendum. His handling of the relations with Juba prevented Eritrea,
which had been a major sponsor of the SPLA in the late war years, to
regain a serious foothold in independent South Sudan.
Somalia was a less successful endeavour. His support for Yusuf
Abdullahi after 2004 was overoptimistic and resulted in failure. His
handling of the Union of Islamic Courts regime was extremely complex
and finally short-sighted. The foreign vision of his carrying out an inva-
sion of the country in December 2006 at the behest of the Americans is
completely false. On the contrary, the American administration tried to
restrain him from action in Somalia, arguing that the US had enough
problems with Muslim countries worldwide and did not look forward
to more trouble with Somalia (there were burning memories of the US
“Restore Hope” failure in 1993) at this time. Meles agreed but cleverly
manipulated the situation so that he could intervene for reasons that
435
had very little to do with fighting Islamic fundamentalism.34 Just like

the Americans themselves in Iraq, he had an easy success at first that
turned into a final blockage in the longer run. He had to evacuate in
2009 after fulfilling only one part of his war aims while precariously
balancing what had been left unresolved.35
***
This short, early and unavoidably incomplete assessment of a major
period in Ethiopian history will be concluded on a human note. Meles,
the man, had known that he was sick since 2003. He had said nothing
and had kept working. Apart from a handful of close associates,
nobody knew of his sickness. He tried to prepare his succession and at
times mentioned, almost jokingly, that he was tired of politics and was
seriously considering retiring after the 2015 elections. As a long-time
visitor, resident and associate of Ethiopia where I was living at the
time, I never took such remarks seriously. I was wrong. He knew that
he would soon have to retire—for ever—and that he had to try to pre-
pare the country for it. From later conversations with people who
knew, he was hoping to have perhaps a little bit more time. Death
overtook him somewhat earlier than he had hoped and his prepara-
tions were not all finished. But nothing of his tragic situation trans-
pired. I have spoken with people who talked with him only days before
he left Ethiopia for his last trip and he showed no sign, in his conver-
sation or behaviour, of what he knew was going to happen to him. He
had always been pitiless with others and he was similarly pitiless with
himself. He died on 20 August 2012, at the ge of 57, with the dignity
of a Roman Stoic.
His remarkable inheritance is today largely mythified by the regime.
This is an understandable temptation but not a very useful one since it
solves nothing. Meles cannot keep governing from the grave, as it often
seems to be the case when one moves around Addis Ababa these
days.36 The elections of 2015—and their aftermath—will be a key
moment in the country’s history.
Abir, Mordechai, 1968, Ethiopia: The Era of the Princes. The Challenge of
Islam and the Re-unification of the Christian Empire, 1760–1855, London,
Praeger.
436
Cabestan, Jean-Pierre, 2012, “Ethiopia and China: Authoritarian Affinities

and Economic Cooperation”, China Perspectives, 4, pp. 53–62.
Bahru Zewde, 2014, The Quest for Socialist Utopia: the Ethiopian Student
Movement (1960–1974), London: James Currey.
Balsvik, Randi, 1985, Haile Selassie’s Students: the Intellectual and Social
Background to Revolution (1952–1977), East Lansing: Michigan State
University.
Bloch, Marc, 1953, The Historian’s Craft: Reflections on the Nature and Uses
of History and the Techniques and Methods of Those Who Write It, New
York: A. Knopf (Original edition: 1949, Apologie pour l’histoire ou le

métier d’historien, Paris: Armand Colin).

Erlich, Haggai, 1996, Ras Alula and the Scramble for Africa: A Political
Biography: Ethiopia and Eritrea (1875–1897), Lawrenceville, NJ: Red Sea
Press.
Gebru Tareke, 2009, The Ethiopian Revolution: War in the Horn of Africa,
New Haven: Yale University Press.
Gramsci, Antonio, Selections from the Prison Notebooks, London: Lawrence
and Wishart. [There were eleven reprints of this excellent critical selection,
between 1971 and 2005; the mentions/discussions of the concept of “organic
intellectuals” can be found on pp 6, 12 15–18, 20, 60 and 330].
Paulos Milkias, 2003, “Ethiopia, the TPLF, and the Roots of the 2001 Political
Tremor”, Northeast African Studies, 10 (2), New Series, pp. 13–66.
Pausewang, S., Tronvoll, K. and Aalen, L. (eds), 2002, Ethiopia since the

Derg, London: Zed Books.

Prunier, Gérard, 2010, “The 1943 Woyane revolt: a Modern Reassessment”,
The Journal of the Middle East and Africa, 1 (2), pp. 187–95.
Rubenson, Sven, 1976, The Survival of Ethiopian Independence, London:
Heinemann.
437

pp. [1–16]
NOTES
INTRODUCTION
1. The Encyclopedia Aethiopica, published by Harrassowitz in Wiesbaden under

the direction of Professor Siegbert Uhlig since 2003. Vol. 1, 2003; vol. 2, 2005;
vol. 3, 2007; vol. 4, 2010; vol. 5, 2014. There are some articles in the Encyclo
paedia Aethiopica that deal with post-1974 Ethiopia (for example, the article
“Revolution of 1974” and the other articles it refers to), but the events, politi-
cal movements and figures of this period are not studied as systematically and
carefully as those of previous periods of Ethiopian history.
2. Schwab, Peter, 1985, Ethiopia: Politics, Economics and Society, Boulder, CO:
Lynne Rienner.
3. Prunier, Gérard, (ed.), 2007, L’Ethiopie contemporaine, Paris: Karthala.
4. The editors thank Miklos Gozstonyi and Yves Stranger for their contribution to
translation work, and Michael Dwyer, Jon de Peyer, Jonathan Derrick and
Alasdair Craig for their editorial care and patience. They are also grateful for
the institutional support they received from the French Centre for Ethiopian
Studies, the French Embassy in Addis Ababa, the French National Centre for
Scientific Research (CNRS), and Addis Ababa University through the Institute
of Ethiopian Studies, the Institute for Development Studies, and the Institute for
Peace and Security Studies.
1. ETHIOPIANS IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY: THE STRUCTURE

AND TRANSFORMATION OF THE POPULATION
1. This chapter is based on a chapter co-authored by Éloi Ficquet, Hugo Ferran,

Arnaud Kruczynski and François Piguet in Prunier, 2007, the prototype in
French for the present volume. We have shortened, revised, reorganized and
updated it. The authors thank Wolbert Smidt, Yves Stranger and Thomas
Osmond for their comments.
2. For general reflections on ethnic and linguistic diversity see J. Abbink,
439
pp. [17–23]
NOTES
“Languages and Peoples in Ethiopia and Eritrea”, Encyclopaedia Aethiopica

Vol. 5. Henceforth references to articles in the Encyclopaedia Aethiopica are
given in the following form: EAE followed by the volume number (e.g. EAE1
refers to Volume 1).
3. The lifestyle of the Gurage is described in the section below. Some Gurage soci-
eties, in particular those who are Christians like the Kistane, share with the
Habesha a strong sense of Ethiopian national identity and see themselves as
sharing their origins with the Habesha.
4. Figures based on the 2007 Population and Housing Census of Ethiopia (CSA,
2010, pp. 91–2).
5. The territorial divisions include the boundaries of Gojjam, Wollo, Shoa,
Gondar and so on for the Amhara subgroups, and Welqayt, Agame, Hamasen
and so on for the Tigray subgroups.
6. For a general anthropological overview of Habesha societies, see Shack, 1974.
7. On social control and socialization see Molvaer, 1995.
8. On land tenure and social organization in Habesha society, see Hoben, 1973;
Crummey, 2000.
9. On the ideological roots of Habesha domination, see Levine, 1974.
10. On Ethiopian reformist intellectuals in the twentieth century see Bahru Zewde,
2002. On literature see Molvaer, 1980. On the development of Ethiopian pop-
ular music see Falceto, 2001.
11. On Amhara social organization and culture see Levine, 1965; Messing, 1985;
Leslau and Kane, 2001. Encyclopedia articles: D. Levine, “Amhara”, EAE1;

D. Appleyard, “History and Dialectology of Amharic”, EAE1.

12. On self-designations of Tigrinya speaking groups see Smidt, 2010 and his ency-
clopedia article, “Təgrəñña-speakers”, EAE4.
13. On Tigray social order see Bauer, 1977; Tronvoll, 1998.
14. For an ethnography of the Qemant see Gamst, 1969 and Gamst’s encyclope-
dia articles on the Agäw groups: “Agäw Ethnography”, EAE1; “Hamta”,
EAE2; “Kəmant”, EAE3.
15. On the history of the Agäw see Tadesse Tamrat, 1988.
16. S. Kaplan, “Betä Ǝsraʾel”, EAE1. On the debate on the origins of the Beta

Israel see notably Abbink, 1990; Kaplan, 1992.

17. Abdukader Saleh, “GGäbärti”, EAE2.
18. On the Argobba see Abebe Kifleyesus, 2006, and the shorter article by the
same author, “Argobba Ethnography”, EAE1.
19. On the historical evolution of Harari society see Gibb, 1999; Carmichael,
2004; Osmond, 2014, and the articles in EAE2: T. Carmichael, “Harär from

the Late 19th to the Late 20th Century”; A. Gascon, “Harärge”; C. Gibb,

“Harari Ethnography”; J. Miran, “Harär under Egyptian Occupation”;

E. Wagner, “Harär City Structure and Main Buildings” and “Harär History

till 1875”.
20. E. Wagner, “Abādīr ‘Umar ar-Ridda”, EAE1; F.C. Muth, “Aḥmad b. Ibrāhīm

al-Ġāzī”, EAE1.
21. The count of ethnic affiliations has been a thorny issue since the publication of
440

NOTES pp. [23–30]
the results of the last Kenyan national census in 2009. There are an estimated
250,000 Boorana Oromo in Kenya.
22. Encyclopedia articles on Oromo society and culture in EAE4: G. Banti,
“Oromiffaa”; J. Hultin, “Oromo Ethnography”; Ezekiel Gebissa, “Oromo

History”; D. Bustorf, “Oromo Religion”, G. Banti, “Oromo Oral Literature”;

W. Smidt, “Early Writing in Oromiffaa”; P.T.W. Baxter and Gaddisa Birru,

“Contemporary Writing in Oromiffaa”.

23. In 1994 44.3 per cent of the population of the Oromiya Regional State were
Muslims, 41.3 per cent Orthodox Christians and nearly 9 per cent Protestants
(CSA, 1998, p. 132). These figures, taken from the published results of the
national census, do not represent the religious affiliations of the Oromo ethnic
group, but provide an approximation since 87.1 per cent of the population of
Oromiya are Oromo.
24. For a sympathetic view of Oromo traditional religion see Bartels, 1983. For a
critical perspective see Osmond, 2004.
25. This process of social and cultural change following the Oromo expansion has
been thoroughly analyzed in Hassen, 1990.
26. For an analysis of the strategy by which a Muslim Oromo lineage of Wollo
penetrated the Christian kingdom, see Ficquet, 2014, and his articles, “Wällo”
(with Hussein Ahmed), EAE4, and “Yäggggu”, EAE5.
27. On Afran Qallo and its role in the emergence of cultural Oromo nationalism
see the notes by Falceto and Osmond in the booklet joined to the CD compi-
lation of Ali Birra, 2013.
28. For a detailed description of the Gadaa system as it works in Borana-Oromo
society see Bassi, 2005. For a comprehensive review of ethnographic literature
on Gadaa see P.T.W. Baxter, “Gadaa”, EAE2. See Legesse, 2000 for a concep-

tual definition of Oromo democracy based on Gadaa values, on the basis of

ethnographic research done in the 1960s (Legesse, 1973).
29. For a regional comparison of age sets and generation sets see Kurimoto and
Simonse, 1998.
30. On the customary political and judicial procedures of the Borana Oromo today
see Bassi, 2005, and a shorter version in “Boorana”, EAE1.
31. On the ancient polities and religious networks of south-east Ethiopia see the
collection of essays in Braukämper, 2002.
32. On the history of the Arsi, see Gnamo, 2014; Abbas Haji Gnamo, “Arsi
Ethnography”, EAE1.
33. On the history of Islam in Bale and the spread of Salafi reform movements
since the 1960s see Østebø, 2011.
34. On the relations between Harari urban dwellers and their Oromo rural neigh-
bours and clients see Osmond, 2014.
35. On the history of khat production and commercialization in Ethiopia see
Gebissa, 2004.
36. On the early conquest of Oromo lands by the Kingdom of Shoa see Ege, 1986.
On the politico-religious authority of the Qaallu among the Metcha Oromo
see Knutsson, 1967; J. Hultin, “Mäčča”, EAE3; Tsega Endalew, “Tuulama”,

EAE4.
441
pp. [30–40]
NOTES
37. On the danger posed by the expansion of irrigated plantations for Karrayu pas-
toralism see Ayalew Gebre, 2001.
38. Tsaga Endalew, “Leeqa”, EAE3, and “Wälläga”, EAE4.
39. There are unfortunately few published studies on this region. An exception is
a fascinating collection of Amharic documents, without translation, published
by TesemmaTa’a and Alessandro Triulzi in 2004 (1997 Ethiopian calendar) at
Addis Ababa University Press.
40. Hassen, 1990 is the major historical study on the Oromo kingdoms of Gibe.
See also Lewis, 1965 on the Kingdom of Jimma Abba Jifar. Encyclopedia arti-
cles: Hassen, “Geeraa”, “GGimmaAbbaa GGifaar”, “Gomma”, “Guumma”,
EAE2; J. Abbink, “Limmu Ennarya”, EAE3; H. Amborn, “Yäm Ethnogra

phy”, EAE5.
41. For a general perspective on Ethiopian lowland peripheries see Markakis,
2011.
42. On the challenges faced by Afar pastoralists see Maknun, 1993; Haberson,
1978.
43. On the Afar-Issa conflict from an Afar point of view, see Yasin, 2007.
44. On the social organization of the Afar see Chedeville, 1966; Getachew Kassa,
2001. On the history of their toponyms and clan division see Morin, 2004. On
their poetry and oral traditions see Morin, 1995. See also D. Morin, “Afar

Ethnography”, “Afar History”; D. Morin and Getachew Kassa, “ʿAdohyammára

and ʿAsahyammára”, all in EAE1.

45. For an overview on the history of the Somali people see Casanelli, 1982. On
Somali groups in or near Ethiopia see: T. Ofcansky, “Dir”, EAE2; F. Declich,

“Habar Awal”, EAE2; T. Ofcansky, “Isaaq”, EAE3; D. Morin, “ʿIssa”, EAE3;

S. Samatar, “Ogaden”, EAE4.

46. On political developments in Ethiopia’s Somali region see Hagmann, 2005.

47. Ibid., p. 512.
48. On craftsmen and their status in south-west Ethiopia see the case studies gath-
ered by Freeman and Pankhurst, 2003. See also the discussion of the notion of
caste applied to these groups in H. Amborn, “Handicrafts”, EAE2.

49. For an overview of Gurage societies through the lens of the Chaha sub-group,
see Shack, 1966. On the different groups composing the Gurage see Worku
Nida, “Gurage Ethno-Historical Survey”; “Gurage Religions”, EAE2;
C.M. Ford and D. Bustorf, “Caha”, EAE1; R. Meyer, “Dobbi”, EAE2;

D. Bustorf, “Ǝnär”, “Ǝndägäñ Ethnography”, “Ǝnnänmor Ethnography”,

“Ǝnnänqor”, “Ǝža”, “Geto Ethnography”, “Gumär”, EAE2; D. Bustorf,
“Mäsmäs”, “Mäsqan Ethnography”, EAE3; A. Kruczinsky, “Muhər Ethno

graphy”, EAE3; Bahru Zewde, “Soddo Ethnography” EAE4; D. Bustorf,
“Wäläne Ethnography”, EAE4; R. Meyer, “Zay Ethnography”, EAE5.

50. On the political organization of the Gurage see Bahru Zewde, 2002.
51. On Gurage urban migration see Baker, 1992; Worku Nida, 1996.
52. D. Bustorf, “Səltti Ethnography”, EAE4.

53. On the ethno-history of the Hadiya, see the major ethno-historical study of
Braukämper, 2012, plus the synopsis in Braukämper, “Hadiyya”, EAE2. On
Kambata see Braukämper, “Kambaata Ethnography”, EAE3.
442

NOTES pp. [41–46]
54. On the Sidama see Hamer, 1987; Brøgger, 1986; J. Hamer and Anbessa

Teferra, “Sidaama Ethnography”, EAE4.

55. Mekete Belachew, “Awasa”, EAE1.
56. H. Amborn, “Burggi Ethnography”, EAE1; C. McClellan, “Gide’o”, EAE2;

Wolde Gossa Tadesse, “Konso Ethnography”, EAE3; H. Amborn, “Koorete
Ethnography”, EAE3. On the social organization of the Konso see also

Hallpike, 2008 (revised and self-published edition of the 1972 original book).
57. On the agrarian system of the Konso see Watson, 2009.
58. Azeb Amha, “Ometo”, EAE4.
59. J. Abbink, “Wälaytta Ethnography”, “Wälaytta Kingdom”, “Wälaytta-Malla

Dynasty”, EAE4.
60. For an eye-witness account of the conquest of Welayta see Vanderheym, 2012.
61. On Welayta’s agrarian decline see Planel, 2008; Dessalegn Rahmato, 2007.
62. On the political system of the Gamo see Bureau, 2012 and Abeles, 2012, which
are most welcome English translations of works originally published in French
(in 1981 and 1983 respectively). See also Freeman, 2002 for a more recent
study of the impact of socio-economic changes on Gamo societies. See also
Data Dea, “Dawro”, EAE2; Wolde Gossa Tadesse, “Dorze Ethnography”,
“Gamo Ethnography”, EAE2; Abbink, “Gofa Ethnography”, EAE2, “Zayse
and Zargulla Ethnography”, EAE5.
63. On the ethno-history of Kefa see Lange, 1976 and 1982; J. Abbink, “Käfa
History”, “Käfa Ethnography”, EAE3; Shiferaw Bekele “Käfa Dynasties (14th

to end of 19th c.)”, EAE3, “Šakačo Ethnography”, EAE4.
64. The following section contains extracts, like this one, from the more detailed
description written by Hugo Ferran in the collective chapter on Ethiopian peo-
ples in the book edited by Prunier, 2007. We have translated these extracts.
Unless otherwise indicated, take extracted quotations in this section to come
from this source.
65. Selected ethnographic studies on these societies: Tornay, 2001 on the
Nyangatom; Donham, 1994 on the Maale; Almagor, 1978 on the Dassanech;
Strecker and Lydall, 1979 on the Hamer; Turton, 1988 on the Mursi.
Encyclopedia articles: C.M. Ford, “Aari”, EAE1; Wolde Gossa Tadesse and

A. Pellar, “Arbore”, EAE1; K. Masuda, “Banna”, EAE1; S. Epple, “Bäšada”,

EAE1; I. Strecker, “Hamär Ethnography”, EAE2; M. Hiroshi, “Kara”, EAE3;

Wolde Gossa Tadesse and H. Ferran, “Maale”, EAE3; S. Tornay, “Murle

Ethnography”, EAE3; D. Turton, “Mursi”, EAE3; S. Tornay, “Ñaŋatom

Ethnography”, EAE3; J. Abbink, “Ṣamay”, EAE4.

66. On these peoples see Abbink, 1992, 1993, 1997, 2000 and 2002. See also, by
Abbink, “Baale Ethnography”, “Bençc Ethnography”, EAE1; “Dizi Ethno
graphy”, EAE2; “Meʾen Ethnography”, EAE3; C. Bader “Suri”, “Tirmaga”,

EAE4.
67. This corresponds to what I. Kopytoff, 1987 called the “African frontier”, that

is, the reproduction of traditional African societies through processes of cul-

tural fusion between migrant communities and their hosts.
68. On the impact of tourism see Abbink, 2000; Turton, 2004.
443
pp. [47–68]
NOTES
69. On the political, economic and social transformations in Ethiopia’s western

border territories see Young, 1999.
70. For a fuller exposition of people and politics in the Gambella region see Dereje,
2011.
71. For ethnographic descriptions of the Anuak see Evans-Pritchard, 1940b;
Kurimoto, 1996; Perner, 1997; E. Kurimoto, “Añwaa ethnography”, EAE1.

72. On heightened rivalries between Nuer, Anywaa and Amhara settlers, see the
chapter by Vaughan in this volume.
73. P. Unseth, “Maggaŋgir Ethnography”, EAE3.

74. A. Triulzi, “Beni Šangul”; J. Abbink, “Berta Ethnography”, EAE1.

75. J. Spaulding, “Fungg”, EAE2.

76. On the history of Beni Shangul see Triulzi, 1981.

77. Abbute, 2009, p. 155. See also J. Abbink, “Gumuz Ethnography”, EAE2;

S. Hummel and A. Meckelburg, “Komo Ethnography”, EAE3.

78. U. Braukämper, “Migrations from the 15th to the 19th century”; J. Abbink,

“Migrations in the South-west”, “Migrations from the Late 19th Century until
Today”, EAE4.
79. On resettlement schemes in Ethiopia see Pankhurst and Piguet, 2009.
80. For an overview of the slave trade in Ethiopia in the nineteenth century see
Fernyhough, 1989.
81. On foreign-educated Ethiopian intellectuals and their role in the moderniza-
tion of the country see Bahru Zewde, 2002.
82. For a detailed account of the history of Ethiopian immigrants in America see
Solomon Addis Getahun, 2007. For a comparison of Ethiopian immigrants in
the USA and France, see Abye, 2004. On cultural creativity in the Ethio-
American diaspora see Shelemay and Kaplan, 2006. See also E. Alpers and

K. Koser, “Diaspora”, EAE2.

83. On Ethiopian domestic workers in the Middle East see Fernandez, 2011.
84. According to the National Bank of Ethiopia’s official estimate, the total value
of remittances to Ethiopia was $661 million in 2010. According to projections
by the World Bank the real value of remittances could reach as high as $3.2
billion in 2010. According to this study, 14 per cent of the adult population of
Ethiopia received international remittance, regularly, at an average amount of
$120 five times a year. This high figure may be an overestimation but it reflects
the potential influence of remittance flows on the economy.
85. On political mobilization in the Ethiopian diaspora see Lyons, 2012.
2. THE ETHIOPIAN ORTHODOX TEWAHEDO CHURCH (EOTC) AND

THE CHALLENGES OF MODERNITY
1. Ayele Teklehaymanot, 1988.

2. Crummey, 1974, p. 577.
3. Tedesci, 1999, p. 108.
4. Crummey, 1978, pp. 427–42.
5. Tedesci, 1999, p. 109.
444

NOTES pp. [68–87]
6. Ayele Teklehaymanot, 1999, p. 192; Bairu Tafla, 1977, p. 153.

7. Haile Mariam Larebo, 1988, p. 3.
8. This was the first journey of an Ethiopian Metropolitan abroad, cf. Kaplan,
2007, p. 867.
9. Shiferaw Bekele, 2010, p. 139.
10. Erlich, 2000, pp. 23–46.
11. Marcus, 1987, p. 104.
12. Ibid., pp. 204–5.
13. Erlich, 2000, p. 28.
14. Boutros Ghali, 1991, p. 980.
15. Isaac, 1971, pp. 248–9. On the collaboration of Ethiopian clergymen with the
Italian authorities, see Shenk, 1972, pp. 125–35.
16. Mersha Alehegne, p. 2010.
17. Murad, 1950–1957, pp. 1–22.
18. Perham, 1948, pp. 126–30.
19. Erlich, 2000; pp. 35–6.
20. Bairu Tafla, 2002, pp. 495–6.
22. Erlich, 2000, pp. 38–42.
23. Haile Mariam Larebo, 1988.
24. This reform was particularly strongly implemented in Gojjam during the revolt
of 1968. See Markakis, 1974, pp. 377–86.
25. Haile Mariam Larebo, 1988, p. 10. See also Goricke and Heyer, 1976, p. 186.
26. Negarit Gazeta, 25 October 1972.

27. Chaillot, 2005.
28. Haile Mariam Larebo, 1988, pp. 10–11.
29. Ibid., p. 22.
31. Haile Mariam Larebo, 1988, p. 16.
32. Ancel, 2011a.
33. Though not canonical, as he and his supporters highlighted, the forced removal
of Abuna Merkorios was in line with the historical process of the unification
of the Church and its increasing supervision by the state. We have seen in this
chapter that each governmental power transition needed the cooperation of the
Church and involved some kind of accomodation with canonical law—or its
more or less brutal violation.
34. Alexander, 2012.
35. Engedayehu, 2013, p. 9.
36. See Engedayehu 2013, pp. 14–15 for the list of the fifty-seven Ethiopian
churches abroad affiliated to the Synod in exile.
37. Chaillot, 2002, p. 43.
38. Hermann, 2010.
39. See, for instance, Young, 1977.
40. Boyslton, 2012b.
445
pp. [93–105]
NOTES
3. THE ETHIOPIAN MUSLIMS: HISTORICAL PROCESSES AND ONGOING

CONTROVERSIES
1. The author thanks Ahmed Hassen Omer and Dereje Feyissa for their com-
ments on preliminary versions of this text.
2. Vangsi,1985 compares the different statistical data on religions available since
the first national sample surveys (undertaken in 1964–7 and 1968–71) up to
the first large-scale Ethiopian census of 1984.
3. Kemal Abdulwehab, 2011.
4. This ideal of fraternity within the community of Islam (the Ummah) is under-
mined, however, by the prevalence of racial and ethnic discrimination. For
instance, many African pilgrims to Mecca are bitter about their experiences of
being subjected to racial slurs such as ‘abd (“slave”).
5. For comprehensive accounts of the history of Islam in Ethiopia see
Trimingham, 1952; Abbink, 1998; Hussein, 2007. For a focus on the ethno-
history of southern and eastern Ethiopian societies see the collection of essays
by Braukämper, 2002. For a historical overview of Islam in Eritrea see Miran,
2005.
6. The exact words are: “Leave Ethiopians alone as long as they leave you alone”,
according to the biography of the Prophet by Ibn Ishâq.
7. Complex processes of conversion are encapsulated in this short description.
For a more detailed discussion of the role of traders and clerics in the dissem-
ination of Islam, see Hussein, 1999.
8. For a comprehensive overview of Islam in Ethiopia in the Middle Ages, see
Fauvelle and Hirsch, 2010.
9. Ulama is the plural form of ‘alim (“scholar”). Awliya is the plural form of wali
(“saint, holy man”).
10. Seri-Hersch, 2009.
11. Abbas Hajji, 2002: 106–9.
12. The first mosque in Addis Ababa was founded in the Abware area in the com-
pound of an Indian Muslim architect working for the palace of Menelik II. The

call to prayer was performed in a well dug for this purpose. See Kemal
Abdulwehab, 2011: p. 312.
13. On the reign of Lij Iyasu see the essays gathered by Ficquet & Smidt, 2013.
14. Hussein Ahmed, 2006: pp. 6–7.
16. See Erlich, 2007: p. 81, discussed in Østebø, 2012: pp. 131–2.
17. Carmichael, 1998; Østebø, 2012: pp. 190–191.
19. Ibid., p. 779
20. Hussein Ahmed, 1998: pp. 11–2
21. Østebø, 2012: pp. 211–3.
22. Hussein, 1994: pp. 791–7.
23. The main centre of education for Ethiopian Muslims is the Aweliyya School
and Mission Centre in Addis Ababa, established in the 1960s and supported
446

NOTES pp. [105–112]
by the Saudi-based Muslim World League. This institution is not focused only
on Quranic education: it includes an orphanage, a high school and a college
that provides vocational training in accountancy, law and Arabic language. It
plays an important role in the civil representation of the Ethiopian Muslim
elite.
24. On Islamic literature in Ethiopia see Gori, 1995 and 2005; Hussein, 2009.
25. Haustein and Østebø, 2012: p. 755.
26. There are 200,000 Ethiopian domestic workers in Saudi Arabia and 60,000 in
Lebanon. They are also found in high numbers in the United Arab Emirates
and Kuwait. The total number of Ethiopians in the Middle East approaches
500,000. See Fernandez, 2011.
27. It is estimated that 120,000 Ethiopians emigrate per year. Between 70,000 and
80,000 Ethiopians fled to Yemen in 2011 and 2012 according to UNHCR (the
United Nations Refugee Agency).
28. See Peebles, 2012.
29. See Dereje, 2011.
30. The term “Salafism” derives from the Arabic expression as-salafi as-s’âlih (“the
pious ancestors”, that is, the close companions of the Prophet Muhammad). A
related common generic designation for certain sorts of Islamic reform move-
ments is “Wahhabism”, from the Arab theologian Muhammad ibn Abd al-
Wahhab (1703–1792) who propounded the main doctrines of Salafism.
However “Wahhabism” or “Wahhabiyya” is often used with a derogatory
undertone; “Salafi” is the designation most followers prefer.
31. Østebø, 2007: p. 14. See also Ishihara, 1996, which provides an example of
local arguments against Salafism in the form of poetic verses composed in the
Oromo language by a sheikh of Jimma.
32. Another Islamic reformist movement that has gained followers in Ethiopia, on
a smaller scale than Salafism is the Tabligh missionary movement that is cen-
tred on the Gurage Muslim community of Addis Ababa.
33. Østebø, 2007: p. 5.
34. Hussein Ahmed, 2006: pp. 12–14; Kemal Abdulwehab, 2011.
35. In October 2006 there were serious religious clashes in Jimma and Wellega.
The conflict began in a mosque that was disturbed by the smoke from celebra-
tions in a nearby Orthodox church. Local skirmishes were exacerbated by
extremist groups and the tensions escalated into a larger scale conflict. See
Dereje, 2013b: pp. 5–6; Østebø, 2012: pp. 279–80.
36. Hussein Ahmed, 2006.
37. See De Waal, 2004.
38. A brief account of this dispute between Harari religious figures is given by
Kabha and Erlich, 2006. H. Erlich gave a presentation of his study on the al-

Ahbash movement in 2008 at the Institute of Ethiopian Studies, provoking

expressions of disagreement from Muslim students.
39. On the doctrinal roots of al-Ahbash see Hamzeh and Dekmejian, 1996; Kabha
and Erlich, 2006.
40. Al-Ahbash followers are estimated to number around 100,000 in Lebanon,
10,000 in Australia between 50,000 and 70,000 in North America and Europe.
447
pp. [114–130]
NOTES
41. According to Haustein and Østebø, 2011: p. 762, “The hegemonic position of

the EIASC [Majlis] has consequently impinged on the possibilities of forming
alternative organizations, which has contributed to a situation in which Islam
in Ethiopia is highly informal and de-institutionalized.” See also the controver-
sial analysis by Awol Allo and Abadir M. Ibrahim, 2012.

4. GO PENTE! THE CHARISMATIC RENEWAL OF THE EVANGELICAL

MOVEMENT IN ETHIOPIA1
1. The article presents some of the findings of research undertaken in Ethiopia

during the months of May–June 2010 and February–March 2011 with the sup-
port of the French Centre for Ethiopian Studies in Addis Ababa and the
Fondazione CRT of Turin. I am particularly grateful to Jörg Haustein, Mauro
Ghirotti, Vadim Putzu, and Federica Gentile for their insightful comments on
a previous version of this article.
2. Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia (FDRE) Population Census
Commission, Summary and Statistical Report of the 2007 Population and
Housing Census, December 2008, Addis Ababa. Available on the Central
Statistical Agency of Ethiopia website: www.csa.gov.et
3. Johnstone and Mandryk, 2010.
4. Tibebe Eshete, 2009, p. 2.
5. Anderson, 2004, p. 115.
6. Getachew Haile, Lande and Rubenson, 1998; Eide, 2000.
7. Tibebe Eshete, 2009.
8. Haustein, 2011.
9. Abbink, 2011.
10. Anderson, 2004.
11. In the absence of official statistics and rigorous studies, key informants credit
the two biggest denominations, the Mekane Yesus and Kale Hywot churches,
with more than 80 per cent of the total number of Pente believers. Similar data
are presented in a research commissioned by the Evangelical Churches
Fellowship of Ethiopia in partnership with Dawn Ministries: National Mission
Research, 2005.
12. According to the 2007 Population Census Protestants account for 17.7 per cent
of the total population in Oromiya Region, 55.5 per cent in SNNPR and
70.1 per cent in Gambella.
13. Haustein, 2008.
15. For an annotated list of the most important Pentecostal churches in Ethiopia,
see Haustein, 2009.
16. Anderson, 2004, p. 103.
17. Tibebe Eshete, 2009, pp. 146–7; Haustein, 2011a, pp. 229–32.
18. Donham, 1999.
19. According to Samson Estephanos, 2007. Data obtained from the author.
20. Anderson, 2004, p. 104.
448

NOTES pp. [130–138]
21. In the last years, some experiences of Charismatic Renewal have spread to the
Ethiopian Orthodox Church, although the groups promoting this approach,
like the Emanuel United Church, have been condemned as heretical by the
Patriarchate and rapidly expelled from its body.
22. See Ethiopian Economic Association, Ethiopian Economic Policy Research
Institute, 2008.
23. For an analysis of the dogmatic character of international discourse on devel-
opment and its political and economic consequences, see Hibou, 1998.
24. Although, according to official statistics of 2007 census, the numbers of
Protestants in traditional Orthodox or Muslim areas are still particularly low:
0.1 per cent of the population in Tigray, 0.2 per cent in Amhara, 0.7 per cent
in Afar and 0.1 per cent in the Somali region.
26. According to official statistics the share of Protestants in rural areas is 19.6 per
cent, while in urban areas it is only 13.5 per cent. I owe to Jörg Haustein this
remark and calculation.
27. Anderson, 2004, p. 122.
28. Ibdi., p. 167.
29. Bahru Zewde, 2002.
30. Donham, 1999.
32. Cox, 2006.
33. Marshall, 2009.
34. Corten and Mary 2000, p. 17.
35. Bayart, 1993.
36. Wolf, 1991.
37. Bax, 1987.
38. Tadesse Tamrat, 1972.
39. Ibid., 1998.
41. Corten, 2006, p. 135.
43. Eide, 2000.
44. Haustein, 2009.
46. Haustein, 2011b, p. 49.
47. Constitution of the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia, art. 39 (5).
48. Østebø, 2008.
49. Exodus, 19:6.
50. Abbink, 2011.
51. Accounting for instance for 55.5 per cent of the population in SNNPR or
70.1 per cent in Gambella, according to the 2007 census.
52. Haustein, 2011b, p. 50.
53. Like General Taye, Defence Minister, Shiferraw Wolde Michael, adviser to the
Council of Ministers, and Negussie Teferra, member of the Economic
Campaign and Central Planning Supreme Council.
449
pp. [139–155]
NOTES
54. Like Teshome Toga, former Speaker of the House of Federation, and Haile
Mariam Dessalegn (Deputy Prime Minister at the time of writing).
55. Gascon, 2005.
56. See for instance Hussein Ahmed, 2006.
57. Ibid.
58. Abbink, 2011.
59. Tronvoll, 2009.
60. Abbink, 2011, p. 274.
61. Marshall, 2009.
5. FROM PAN-AFRICANISM TO RASTAFARI: AFRICAN AMERICAN AND

CARIBBEAN ‘RETURNS’ TO ETHIOPIA
1. Throughout this paper the word Rastafari is used to refer to both the move-
ment and individuals as is the standard use in the literature (for example,
Chevannes, 1994; Price 2009; MacLeod, 2014). Words like “Rastafarian” or
“Rastafarianism” are avoided.
2. For a detailed account of African American, Caribbean and Rastafari settle-
ments in Ethiopia since the end of the nineteenth century, see Bonacci, 2010.
3. See the discussion on this verse by Ullendorf, 1997, pp. 5–15.
4. This has been studied by a number of scholars, see for example Drake, 1970
and Geiss, 1968.
5. While Garvey had a tendency to vastly exaggerate the numbers of his follow-
ers (“four hundred million blacks”), records show that in 1921 UNIA counted
a total of 859 branches, and in 1926 six million persons were apparently reg-
istered members. (Martin, 1986: 15–17, quoted by Tete-Adjalogo, 1995:
248–256).
6. Garvey, 1986: 44.
7. Black Jews formed their own congregations in New York and Chicago in the
first thirty years of the twentieth century. They associated with the Ethiopian
Jews known then as Falasha or Beta Israel, but are not to be confused with
them. See for example Brotz, 1964.
8. This mobilization has been very well studied by Scott, 1993 and Harris, 1994.
9. A map of the Shashemene land grant is published in Bonacci, 2010.
10. For an account of the early Rastafari movement, see Hill, 2001.
11. Bonacci, 2013b.
12. See Chevannes, 1998.
13. For an account of the wider Back to Africa movement in Jamaica, see Bonacci,
2010, pp. 165–215.
14. Speech of Emperor Haile Selassie in Jamaica, 21 April 1966, published in

Reggae & African Beat, 1986, vol. V (5/6).

15. While the Gregorian calendar is used internationally, Ethiopia uses the Julian
calendar, which sets the date seven to eight years “behind” the Gregorian cal-
endar. There were therefore two millenniums.
16. A 2003 government census numbered slightly more than a hundred Rastafari
450

NOTES pp. [155–172]
living in Shashemene. However, a number of them refused to fill in the census

forms. In 2014, 800 Rastafari live in Shashemene, half this amount in Addis
Ababa, and a couple hundred in other towns. Ethiopia’s population is esti-
mated at 82 million.
17. MacLeod 2014 studies in-depth, the narratives of the relationship between
Ethiopians and Rastafari.
18. In February 2005, on the occasion of the 60th birthday of Bob Marley, a festi-
val dubbed “Africa Unite” was organized by the Bob Marley Foundation and
the Rita Marley Foundation in Addis Ababa. The cultural impact of the huge
reggae concert on Mesqel Square is discussed by MacLeod 2014, pp. 126–66.
19. The flag of Imperial Ethiopia, red, gold and green with the Conquering Lion
of Judah in its centre, is one of the symbols praised by Rastafari. However, the
“Flag Proclamation N° 654/2009” outlaws its public display and indicates that
any flag “related with a national historical phenomenon or event shall be kept
at museums prepared for such purposes” (Art. 17/2).
20. Decision of the third extraordinary session of the Executive Council on the
application of the diaspora initiative in the framework of the African Union,
DOC. Ext/EX/CL/5, May 21–242003, Sun City, South Africa.

6. MONARCHICAL RESTORATION AND TERRITORIAL EXPANSION:

THE ETHIOPIAN STATE IN THE SECOND HALF OF THE NINE-
TEENTH CENTURY
1. See the chapter on the Eritrean question by Gérard Prunier in this volume.
2. On this period, see Abir, 1968 and the critical revision on the literature of this
period by Shiferaw Bekele, 1990.
3. On power relations between regional authorities in the first half of the nine-
teenth century see Crummey, 1975.
4. On the residual imperial legitimacy and the meaning of the Solomonic line, see
Crummey, 1988.
5. Henze, 2000, p. 121.
6. Among the plentiful studies on the reign of Tewodros II, see Rubenson, 1966.
An interesting historical reconstruction on the ascension to power of Tewodros
and his tragic end was published by Marsden, 2007.
7. On the Islamization of the Oromo polities of Wollo see Hussein Ahmed, 2001.
8. Among many accounts of the British expedition to Ethiopia and the battle of
Meqdela, see Arnold 1992.
9. On the reign of Yohannes IV, see the monograph written by his great-grand-
son Zewde Gebre Selassie, 1975.
10. On the religious policies of the Ethiopian kings in the nineteenth century, see
Caulk, 1972.
11. On the resistance of Wollo Muslims against their forcible conversion to
Christianity, see Hussein Ahmed, 2001.
12. The most famous and influential foreign adviser of Menelik was the Swiss engi-
neer Alfred Ilg who was the inevitable middleman between any foreign inves-
451
pp. [172–211]
NOTES
tor or diplomat and the king. For studies on the Menelik’s time based on Ilg’s
archival collections, see Biasio 2004 and Bairu Tafla, 2000. On the first
Ethiopian modern intellectuals, exposed to the West by their education and
who became promoters of a reformist agenda, see Bahru Zewde 2002.
13. On the building of the Ethiopian empire under Menelik’s leadership by resist-
ing the hegemony of European powers and negotiating partnerships with them,
see Caulk 2002.
14. On the conquest of the southern peripheries of Ethiopia see Donham and
James 1986, in particular the introduction by Donham that elucidates the orga-
nization of the imperial state and setting-up of its domination. For a descrip-
tion of the violence of the conquest by an eye-witness, see Bulatovitch 2000.
15. On the conflict between the Islamic radical Mahdist state in Sudan and the
Christian radical kingdom of Ethiopia under Yohannes’ rule, see Caulk, 1971;
Erlich, 1994; Seri-Hersch, 2010.
16. On this battle that was the first Ethiopian and African victory against colonial
aggression see Taddesse Beyene et al., 1988; Erlich 1996.
17. On the treaty of Wichale and the consequences of its linguistic ambuigities, see
Rubenson, 1964 and Caulk, 2002 (chapters 5 and 6).
18. For a detailed account of this battle see Jonas, 2011. For other studies on this
event, its circumstances and its impact, see the collections of essays edited by
Abdussamad and Pankhurst, 1998, and by Paulos Milkias and Getachew
Metaferia, 2005.
19. See the chapter by Gérard Prunier on the Eritrean question in this volume.
20. On the sensitive issue of boundaries see the collection of treaties gathered by
Brownlie, 1979.
21. On the history of the Ethio-Djiboutian railway see the book of historical pho-
tographs gathered and published by Fontaine, 2012.
22. On the aborted reign of Lij Iyasu in the international turmoil of World War I,
see the volume edited by Ficquet and Smidt 2014.
23. On these see Gebru Tareke, 1991.
8. THE ETHIOPIAN REVOLUTION AND THE DERG REGIME
1. The only other revolution to have taken place on the African continent had been
the Egyptian revolution of 1952. But its cultural context was radically different
from that of the African countries and was linked to the transformations then
affecting the Arab world. In a way, we have seen the same disconnect half a cen-
tury later when the 2011 “Arab Spring” successively shook three African Arab
countries—Tunisia, Egypt and Libya—without causing any political reverbera-
tion further south.
2. The modalities of this parallel could at times be perceived in a rather surprising
manner, as when a Russian technician told this author in 1985: “The Ethiopians
are the only ones who can be good Communists on this continent because they
are Orthodox”. A remark which would probably have surprised Karl Marx.
3. Two books are useful to understand the immediate pre-revolutionary situation:
452

NOTES pp. [211–217]
First, Markakis’ study (1974), which is probably the best analytical presenta-
tion of pre-revolutionary Ethiopian society. Then Kapuscinski’s book (1978),
which should not be seen as a “historical study” but rather as a kind of psy-
cho-political subjective essay, recreating the unreal atmosphere of the Emperor’s
last years.
4. Before 1935 Ethiopia only had a very small standing army. The central state
still relied on the old feudal system of public levies organized by the nobility in
case of war.
5. In line with the post-World War II statist approach of the economy, Ethiopia
had adopted a system of economic planning in 1957. This system had nothing
to do with “socialism”, it was quite the opposite. It was rather a system arbi-
trating between various private interests which competed for milking the impe-
rial state. See Gill, 1974.
6. Lefort, 1983, pp. 36–40.
7. The monetary mass in circulation was extremely limited and stood at only
about $60 per capita. Trade in the countryside remained essentially by
barter.
8. See Balsvik,1985; Bahru Zewde, 2014.
9. Gebru Tareke, 1991 gives a detailed study of these insurrections which kept
following each other at the four corners of the country between the 1940s
and the 1970s, without ever reaching the level of an all-out revolutionary

movement.
10. Pankhurst, 1986.
11. The BBC documentary by Jonathan Dimbleby in which the Emperor was
shown feeding his pets from a silver platter while the population was starving
had a massive counter-propaganda effect.
12. There was no tram service or underground urban railway and the bus service
was notoriously insufficient.
13. Its cause was very symbolic of the state of the army: the water pump used by
the soldiers had broken down and the officers had refused them the right to use
theirs.
14. Aman Andom had a rare combination of qualities for the role Ras Imru wanted
him to play: nicknamed “the lion of the Ogaden”, he had been a hero of the
war with Somalia in 1963–64. Being Eritrean he could talk directly to the
Northern population; and finally he was politically both a moderate and a
reformist. His one weakness seems to have been a certain lack of personal
determination.
15. The PMAC mentioned the fantastic figure of over $15bn found in foreign
deposits. None of that money seems to have existed.
16. The BBC Dimbleby documentary was shown on Ethiopian TV on 11
September.
17. See Del Boca, 1995: 321–3.
18. It was only years later, after the fall of the Derg, that the truth became public:
Haile Selassie had been murdered by the military, suffocated between two
mattresses.
453
pp. [217–224]
NOTES
19. It was to last seventeen years, till the fall of the Derg.
20. Keller, 1998, p. 192.
21. Moffa, 1980, p. 53.
22. The Derg remained a secret committee whose members’ names were not made
public.
23. In spite of some questionable conclusions Messay Kebede, 2011 is the first
work that tries to go into an analysis of the various strands of that military
power. His idea that it was the revolution that radicalized the army, rather
than the other way around, is largely true.
24. In order to blur the distinction between military authoritarianism and civilian
radicalism, the Derg favoured the creation of a whole bevy of pseudo-indepen-
dent revolutionary groups (Emalred, Waz League, ECHEAAT) with Mengistu
himself heading a supposedly “independent” group, Abyotawi Seded [the rev-
olutionary flame]. All were eliminated after they had served their smokescreen
purpose.
25. Amharic acronym of the Pan-Ethiopian Socialist Movement.
26. Its leader Haile Fida was French-educated, and married to a French wife, and
had been a member of the French Communist Party.
27. Given the very complex situation of the land question in pre-revolutionary
Ethiopia, the land nationalization decree had a very different impact in the
north (where land was tightly controlled by a complex system of hereditary
land holding) and the Menelik-conquered south where the conquered peas-
antry had seen their land taken by the Abyssinians to whom the Emperor had
given vast properties. The 4 February decree was therefore much more of a rev-

olutionary measure in the south than in the north and elicited a lot more sup-
port there.
28. The creation of the AETU had been typical of this ambiguity. The laws intro-
duced by this “revolutionary” organization on work conditions and strikes
were much more repressive than those of the Empire.
29. The use of the vocabulary was telling. The Derg wished to retain the monop-
oly of the revolutionary phraseology and to be able to label its enemies as
“reactionaries”. The army’s own anti-guerrilla measures were officially labelled
as “Red Terror”.
30. The Ogaden had become Ethiopian only in 1887, less than a hundred years
before.
31. This was probably what Teferi Bante had in mind and the reason why
Mengistu had him shot.
32. The People’s Democratic Republic of South Yemen, established on the terri-
tory of the former British Aden Colony and Protectorate, was at the time a
communist state closely allied to the Soviet Union.
33. For an inside view of the famine, see Dawit Wolde Gyorgis, 1989.
34. For an assessment of this crisis see Clay and Holcomb, 1986; Pankhurst, 1992.
35. Some of the most hysterical writing at the time came from France where the
Ethiopian tragedy was manipulated to advance a purely French political
agenda (see Jean, 1986; Glucksman and Wolton, 1986). The Derg propaganda
454

NOTES pp. [224–235]
can be found in RRC 1985. The most dispassionate approach is that of

Dessalegn Rahmato, 1991.
36. This author was an eyewitness to some of the process, particularly in Wollega.
37. See Ergas, 1980. This author was living in Tanzania in the 1970s and was an
eyewitness to this policy failure. The difference between Tanzania’s villageiza-
tion and its Ethiopian equivalent was the degree of force used. Ethiopia was
much worse in terms of brutality.
38. When this author tried to demonstrate at the international conference of
Ethiopian studies held in Paris in 1988 that it was materially impossible to
carry out the population transfers with the budget available (see Prunier 1994)
he was publicly attacked and denounced as an agent of imperialism, the CIA
and Mossad.
39. Eshetu Chole, 2004, p. 135.
40. Gebru Tareke, 2009.
41. Saddam Hussein had fought Ayatollah Khomeini’s Iranian revolutionary
regime and earned himself the good graces of Washington. Since his equipment
was Soviet-manufactured, it could be passed on to the Fronts without fear of
traceability. In the Sudan, Nimeiry provided the missing link between foreign
imports and transporting the equipment into Ethiopian territory.
42. Gebru Tareke, 2009, p. 247.
43. The East German Secret Police had a technical control over the Ethiopian
Army Secret Service.
44. There were strong rumours at the time that the CIA had negotiated Mengistu’s
flight directly with President Mugabe. It has not been possible to either con-
firm or refute these rumours.
9. THE ERITREAN QUESTION
1. Eritrea constitutes such a delicate conundrum that even the words one uses to
formulate one’s approach can be problematic. I have chosen here to use the elo-
quent and simple phrasing employed by Zewde Retta as the title of his book: Ye
Eritrea Gudday, Addis Ababa, 2000.
2. Article 4b enshrined respect for colonial borders for the newborn African inde-
pendent nations. But by the time the United Nations was created in New York,
the brief episode of the 1936–41 Italian occupation could be seen as part and
parcel of World War II rather than a form of colonization (to which both France
and Britain were still clinging) and was thus dismissed by the new world order
then emerging from the defeat of the Axis powers.
3. High and medium altitude: hese are the key morphological structures of the
Abyssinian highlands.
4. Corresponding to the Abyssinian qolla regions.
5. It is impossible to be more precise as there never was a census.
6. Most of them belong to the Orthodox Monophysite (tewahedo) Church.
7. Killion 1998: 8.
8. See inter alia Pateman, 1990 or Okbazghi Yohannes, 1991.
455
pp. [235–239]
NOTES
9. And this even though during certain periods of its history Aksum managed to
extend a kind of protectorate over the lowlands and to reach the limits of the
Meroitic kingdom in today’s Sudan. The brief raid of the Aksumite Emperor
Ezana who reached Meroe in 350 AD did not lead to a sustained occupation
of the Nilotic kingdom. Nevertheless, as if to make everything more compli-
cated, many ancient sources refer to Meroe as “the city of the Ethiopians”. But
the word “Ethiopian” in this context should be understood as loosely describ-
ing the ancient non-Egyptian populations of north-eastern Africa rather than
those of present day “Ethiopia”, which in any case was called “Abyssinia” up
to its systemic transformation in the late nineteenth century (see on this ques-
tion the chapter by Shiferaw Bekele in this volume).
10. The 2011 secession of Southern Sudan is a good reminder of the arbitrariness
“Sudan’s” borders.
11. And this even though the Emperor had created the position of “Governor of
the Ma’ikele Bahre” (“Governor of the region between the waters”), that is,
the area between the Mareb River and the sea.
12. This multiethnic Muslim state occupied the north-eastern part of today’s
Sudan. See O’Fahey and Spaulding, 1974.
13. This occurred because Britain, having occupied Egypt in 1882 for financial rea-
sons (Cairo was bankrupt and owed huge credit balances to British banks),
found itself the bemused heir to the Egyptian Empire in Africa. It tried to save
it and failed. But the spectacular death of General Charles Gordon, its envoy
to Khartoum, produced such a shock in an era of alleged White superiority
that a new myth was born, driving the British—and other European powers—
deeper into the African continent. Gordon was killed while the Berlin
Conference was taking place and his death, both at a symbolic level and at the
practical-diplomatic level, had a tremendous accelerating effect.
14. Today’s Djibouti Republic.
15. The Italian trader Giuseppe Sapeto had bought Assab from an Afar Sultan
back in 1869. The port had later been resold to the Italian state in 1882.
16. He was killed by the Mahdists in the battle of Metemma in 1889.
17. On the role of Britain in furthering Italian interests see Ramm, 1944.
18. They failed to understand that Bahta Hagos and his insurgents had nothing
behind them that could be compared withthe Emperor of Abyssinia’s capacity
to raise levies.
19. The result was that very little land (around 2 per cent of total arable land) was
taken in Eritrea, thereby radically limiting all the analysis “explaining” later
Eritrean problems through colonial land alienation. On this Tekeste Negash,
1986.
20. The vast numbers of Italian colonists had never materialized, the Italians pre-
ferring emigration to the United States or Argentina.
21. This author remembers having experienced during his first visit to Eritrea some
forty years ago food, behaviour and speech habits that were so “Italianized”
that they had morphed into a kind of autonomous “Italo-Eritrean” culture.
This had never been the case in Ethiopia proper, even among people strongly
456

NOTES pp. [239–243]
influenced by Italian culture. For an Italian literary testimony on this, see

Dell’Oro, 1988.
22. Although Eritrea represented only 4 per cent of the AOI territory, it hosted 55
per cent of its industrial investments. See Tekeste Negash 1987.
23. Although Arabic was the native language of only 1 per cent of Eritreans, it was
an important religious and cultural language for the Muslim community.
Owing to their Sudanese tropism, the British tended to be perhaps more open
to the Muslim population than to the Christian one which they saw as trouble-
some agents of Ethiopian interference.
24. Britain’s Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin was a passionate advocate of Somali
unity but less interested in the fate of Eritrea.
25. Created in June 1949, the Independence Bloc was the result of a coalition
between the Muslim League, two small pro-Italian parties, the Liberal
Progressive Party (a modern secularist movement) and the Party for the
Independence of Eritrea led by Wolde Ab Wolde Mariam, the first coherent
and outspoken nationalist leader.
26. Wolde Ab Wolde Mariam survived nine murder attempts. He ended up taking
refuge in Egypt in 1953 after the last attempt on his life which had caused him
to spend five months in hospital.
27. This was the new name of the Independence Bloc.
28. These communitarian elements are essential if one wants to understand the
nature of Eritrean identity, and good care should be taken not to fall into an
anachronistic reading of history, influenced by what happened later, particu-
larly during the war. An interesting exception to this tendency is the work of
the historian Tekeste Negash, particularly for what concerns us here. See
Tekeste Negash, 1997.
29. Many of them were Eritreans. But most of them were sycophants who had
built their careers on total submission to the Emperor. And the Emperor had a
tendency to judge the Eritrean situation by the yardstick of his past dealings
with an unruly nobility, which always tried to disobey him not because they
represented any genuinely dissident voices but simply out of arrogance and per-
sonal ambition. The Emperor was by then sixty and set in his ways. He could
not but see Eritrea as just another case of an unruly periphery trying to evade
his centralized authority.
30. The Ethiopian President of the Executive Branch of the government.
31. Between 1945 and 1952 the Eritrean customs had provided 45 per cent of the
government’s tax base. Their appropriation by Addis Ababa since 1952 had
deprived the Eritrean Executive of essential revenue.
32. F.O. 371/102635. Quoted in Tekeste Negash, 1997: 84.

33. Haile Selassie uses here the old expression referring to the “Eritrean space” in
the fifteenth century, when it was more or less incorporated into the Abyssinian
Empire.
34. There was a strong Abyssinian cultural base for that, the fear of a return to
zemene mesafint, the times of feudal anarchy. And then there was an added
layer to that, which had been provided by the Emperor’s “adoptive father”, the
457
pp. [243–248]
NOTES
French Bishop Mgr Jarosseau, who brought him up fully within the centraliz-
ing tradition of the French state, presented as the epitome of order and
civilization.
35. The so-called “democratic institutions” (Parliament, Constitution) which he
had developed since 1945 were only paper structures which he had developed
to please foreign public opinion but which had little internal relevance.
Contemporary political analysts said so with the necessary caution required
when dealing with Ethiopian institutions. See Perham 1969, pp. 95–100 or
Clapham, 1969, pp. 153–4.
36. The ELM had been multi-ethnic and strongly anchored on the left, its founder,
Mahmood Said Naud, being a member of the Sudan Communist Party.
37. The ELF as a coherent organization disappeared in September 1981, but it left
in its wake many surviving micro groups, some of which are still struggling
today against the present Eritrean government, which is itself an offshoot of
the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF), the organization that was to
eventually lead the whole armed movement to victory in 1991.
38. Hamid Idris Awate was a Beni Amer and many of his men belonged to that
tribe.
39. The new ELF leadership had by then supplanted the old ELM one. And the
ELF presented itself as the Eritrean incarnation of “the struggle of the Arab
people” in order to get the support of a number of Arab countries, mostly
Egypt and Sudan. Haile Selassie fought back by supporting the Christian
Southern Sudanese rebels.
40. See my chapter (4) on the Revolution in this volume.
41. The Derg forces wrought a brutal repression on the civilian populations in the
areas they reoccupied.
42. During the 1978 debacle ELF troops which were in Saray province had with-
drawn with their EPLF comrades towards the Sahel. They had stayed there and
the ELF leadership was afraid that they would eventually melt down within the
EPLF’s stronger presence and end up being absorbed.
43. The Front dug underground clinics and workshops, on the model of the Viet
Cong strategic installations. This enabled it to keep functioning even under the
worst attacks of the Ethiopian Air Force.
44. The military equipment delivered to the Front by the Iraqi dictator was of
Russian manufacture and thus impossible to tell apart from the weapons the
EPLF was capturing from the Ethiopian Army. The Iraqi deliveries were
shipped through Sudan whose dictator, Jaafar al-Nimeiry, was a close US ally.
45. On the TPLF see Young, 1997 and Aregawi Berhe, 2009, as well as Medhane
Tadesse’s chapter in the present volume.
46. The Americans probably negotiated Mengistu’s flight to Zimbabwe where
President Mugabe gave him political asylum.
47. Such a figure could look suspicious and it is actually still disbelieved today by
an ultranationalist fringe in Ethiopia. The author of these lines, who was pres-
ent on the ground at the time as an official observer, is nevertheless completely
ready to vouch for the honesty of that impressive score.
458

NOTES pp. [248–261]
48. Asmara accused Ethiopia of protectionism.

49. Asmara had been paying for Ethiopian coffee in birrs and then reselling it
abroad to acquire foreign currency. The financing of that operation was
achieved by Eritrea issuing “true-false” birrs, since there was no clear defini-
tion of who was officially authorized to print the currency.
50. In that capacity 70,000 Eritrean soldiers (12 per cent of the population of the
colony) had been recruited and many were deployed as occupation troops in
Ethiopia.
51. Killion 1998:399. Makalay aylet means “the sort who cut grass”, that is,
casual labourers who were not allowed to sit in the shemagelle village councils
and who were considered second class citizens of the Eritrean highland com-
munities. On the modern expression of such ethnic feelings, the work of
Alemseged Abbay, 1998 is of serious interest.
52. The Economist, 11 July 1998.

53. The US, which was at the time a strong supporter of the two post-Derg regimes
in Ethiopia/Eritrea, tried to mediate, with the help of Rwanda, but to no avail.
54. The war gave rise to a flood of impassioned propaganda literature. The most
balanced coverage can be found in Tekeste Negash and Tronvoll, 2000 and in
Jacquin-Berdal and Plaut, 2005.
55. Popular Front for Democracy and Justice. This was the new name for the old
EPLF, chosen after its Third Congress in February 1994.
56. A poignant account of these terrible days can be found in Connell, 2005.
57. Only four “registered” religious faiths were allowed: the traditional tewahedo
Monophysite Christianity, Catholicism, Islam and Lutheran Protestantism.
58. See Human Rights Watch, Service for Life: State Repression and Indefinite
Conscription in Eritrea (April 2009).
59. Redeker Hepner, 2009. See also the testimony by the former EPLF high-rank-
ing member Andebrhan Giorgis, 2014.
10. THE TIGRAY PEOPLE’S LIBERATION FRONT (TPLF)
1. Balsvik, 1979; Bahru Zewde, 2014.

2. TPLF, 1985.
3. Medhane Tadesse, 1992.
4. Although it started its armed struggle in Dedebit, located in the district of Shire,
in the initial months the TPLF had active presence in eastern Tigray where most
of the protracted armed clashes with the EPRP took place.
5. Ibid. Discussions with TPLF leaders over the years also attest to the overriding
feeling at the time. Almost all analysts of the TPLF agree that because of the
then-prevalent psycho-political hurdles, the sense of neglect and frustration and
the divisions within Ethiopian society the TPLF leadership had lost hope of con-
tinuing to be part of Ethiopia and issued the “Manifesto”.
6. Young, 1997.
7. In September 1984, the TPLF addressed to the 39th Session of the United Nations
General Assembly, in September 1984, a document entitled “Tigray” that
459
pp. [261–278]
NOTES
reflected the importance of self-determination to the struggle launched by the

movement.
8. On the history of the MLLT, see the article “Malelit Zelay”, authored by
Aregawi Berhe, published by the MLLT in June 1988.
9. Citing Marx’s analogy of the struggle of the Irish people, Weyin, the newspa-
per of the TPLF, noted in 1977 that, if co-ordinated, an Irish-inspired nation-
alist struggle could also liberate the oppressed working classes of England.
10. Ibid. All informants asked about this period affirm that the TPLF emerged
from the bloody war with EDU both heartened and hardened. TPLF leaders
also believe that it was during this period that bravery and fearlessness became
sealed as the dominant characteristic of TPLF fighters, which has been due in
no small part to the character and leadership of the early military command-
ers, particularly Aregawi Berhe.
11. Liberation, vol. 5, 1978: 25. Discussions with Yemane Kidane who was the
first EPLF militant to be dispatched to Tigray to try to help the TPLF.
12. Tesfatsion Medhanie, 1997, p. 115. A detailed discussion on the conflict
between the TPLF and Eritrean fronts can be found in Medhane Tadesse,
p. 1999, a book which came out only three months after the eruption of the
war in May 1998. It provides a detailed background to the war.
13. Ibid.
14. Young, 1996, p. 113.
15. Medhane Tadesse, 1999.
16. In 1984–85 Meles put forward his thesis that the Front faced major dangers
because of empiricism (the notion that the Front lacked scientific theories) and
its acceptance of pragmatism (by which he meant opportunism).
17. TPLF’s main source of supply of armaments were government forces
themselves.
18. The battle of Af’abet was a turning point in the history of the protracted war
in Eritrea.
19. The major and decisive war at the Shire front began on 28/12/1988 with offen-
sive operation of the 604th Core Army of the government and was concluded
on 19/02/1989 with the victory of the TPLF forces.
20. This has been widely cited by TPLF leaders and the documents of the Front as
a major area that differentiates them from other armed movements in Ethiopia
and elsewhere.
21. Dubbed the Convention of Nationalities for Peace and Democracy and chaired
by the Chairman of the TPLF, Meles Zenawi, the Conference was attended by
more than 22 movements which used to oppose the Derg, primarily along eth-
nic lines.
22. Abebe Zegeye and Pausewang, 1994, pp. 299–300; EHRCO Report 1995.
23. This author discussed this topic in “TPLF and International Financial
Institutions: TPLF and Ethiopia National Sovereignty and Interest,” A paper
presented at the Symposium held on the 25th Anniversary of the TPLF, Mekelle,
February 2000.
24. This has been reflected in the discussions the author had with Eritrean author-
ities weeks before the Eritrean army attacked Ethiopia.
460

NOTES pp. [278–292]
25. The author was one of the few to hint at an impending Eritrean attack return-
ing from a visit to Asmara only weeks before the outbreak of the war.
26. The Commission started work on 25 May 2001, and reported its ruling on

13 April 2002. Then a year later, when the commission clarified its ambigui-

ties and said that Badme lay in Eritrea, the Meles government expressed regret
but said it would not reject the ruling as a whole, but would seek adjustments
by peaceful and legal means.
27. Conduct of the war was led by the Central Command in which Meles was a
member and played an important, but not dominant, role. Indeed, the
Politburo member Tewolde Woldemariam could be said to have led this mili-
tant group and it was he, not Meles, who was the most powerful person in the
country during the war years, a situation that the latter has acknowledged.
28. Special Issue of Renewal (bi-monthly bulletin of the EPRDF), Addis Ababa,
November 2001.
29. Young and Medhane Tadesse, 2003.
11. FEDERALISM, REVOLUTIONARY DEMOCRACY AND THE

DEVELOPMENTAL STATE, 1991–2012
1. Markakis, 1987, 1998.

2. Gebru Tareke, 2009.
3. As a result of the defeat of the Derg, the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front
(EPLF) was able to press for secession, de facto in 1991, and de jure following
a referendum in 1993. See Prunier (chapter 11) in this volume.
4. For a fuller discussion of economic policy and development see Lefort (chap-
ter 10) in this volume.
5. The phrase originates with Stalinist and Soviet thinking on self-determination.
In practice, little or no differentiation according to the three categories is made
in contemporary Ethiopia.
6. Van der Beken, 2012.
7. This, for instance, is one reason given for the organization’s rejection of the
term “ethnic” in relation to what they prefer to call Ethiopia’s “multinational”
federalism. See Meles Zenawi’s comments to the inaugural Tana African
Security Forum, Bahr Dar, 14 April 2012.

8. Markakis, 1974
9. Young, 1997. The TPLF took on the evocative name “weyane” (meaning
“rebellion” in Tigrigna), and it has become the common—and sometimes pejo-
rative—means of referring to it throughout contemporary Ethiopia.
10. This contrasts with more recent government rhetoric which seems to prefer his-
tory over ethnicity.
11. See Prunier in this volume for a discussion of Eritrea, Ethio-Eritrean relations,
and the war.
12. Teferi Abate, 2004.
13. Peterson, 2011.
14. Aalen, 2011.
461
pp. [295–316]
NOTES
15. Named after the 2005 election date.

16. Pausewang and Tronvoll, 2000; Pausewang, Tronvoll and Aalen, 2002.
17. Tronvoll, 2009.
18. Medhane and Young, 2003; Paulos, 2003.
19. Vaughan and Tronvoll, 2003.
20. Lefort, 2007.
21. Vaughan, 2011.
22. Aalen and Tronvoll, 2009; Abbink, 2006, 2009.
23. Aalen and Tronvoll, 2009.
24. Meles Zenawi, 2012.
25. Rodrik, 1991, cited in Meles Zenawi, 2012.
26. Vaughan and Tronvoll, 2003; Vaughan, 2012.
27. See Lefort in this volume for a fuller discussion of the economy.
28. Vaughan and Mesfin Gebremichael, 2011.
29. Vaughan, 2012.
30. Ibid.
12. ELECTIONS AND POLITICS IN ETHIOPIA, 2005–2010
1. The CUD, or Kinijit, set up in November 2004 was made up of the All Ethiopia
Unity Party (AEUP); Rainbow Ethiopia—Movement for Democracy and Social
Justice (Kestedamena); the Ethiopian Democratic League (EDL); and the
Ethiopian United Democratic Party-Medhin (EUDP-Medhin). It might be noted
that this coalition simply ignored a number of fundamental differences between
its components: the AEUP’s Amhara nationalism, the EUDP’s “liberal democ-
racy”, Kestedamena’s “social democracy”, and the EDL’s socialism. It was in
fact a coalition of entirely different and incompatible groups and of highly
unequal parties and even more highly ambitious leaders.
2. The fact that this report came out in advance of the election led the government
to suspect that HRW was deliberately trying to influence the vote; HRW did
exactly the same in advance of the election in 2010.
3. The UEDF, created in 2003, was made up of the following parties: Afar
Revolutionary Democratic Unity Front (ARDUF); All Amhara Unity Party; All
Ethiopian Socialist Movement (Meison); Council of Alternative Forces for Peace
and Democracy; Ethiopian Democratic Union—Tehadiso; Ethiopian National
Unity Front; Ethiopian People’s Federal Democratic Unity Party; Ethiopian
Peoples Revolutionary Party (EPRP); Gambella Peoples United Democratic
Front (GPUDF); Oromo National Congress (ONC); Oromo Peoples Liberation
Organization; Southern Ethiopian Peoples Democratic Coalition (SPDC);
Tigrean Alliance for Democracy (TAND).
4. Monitoring the Media Coverage of the 2005 Parliamentary and Regional
Council Elections in Ethiopia, Graduate School of Journalism and
Communications, Addis Ababa University, Addis Ababa, May 2005.
5. This was one of the reasons why the government strongly criticized the EU mis-
sion and its head, Mrs Ana Gomes. It also argued with some justification that
462

NOTES pp. [317–324]
she had failed to abide by her mandate to observe only and not comment on
the election process. In private, at least, other observers were highly critical of
the “unprofessional behaviour” of Mrs Gomes, as well as of the EU Ambassador,
Tim Clarke, and their relations with opposition leaders.
6. There is no doubt that the EPRDF won. The CUD could never have won. It
was widely perceived as intending to turn the clock back to a centralized,
Amhara controlled state, doing away with the regional states, and removing
Article 39 from the constitution. This was totally unacceptable to all the other
main nationalities which constitute 75 per cent of the state. Some of these
might have had their differences with an EPRDF-controlled government but
they had no desire to overthrow the constitutional federal structure.
7. See e.g. Arriola, 2007 and 2008.
8. Preliminary Statement on the Election Appeals’ Process, the Re-run of
Elections and the Somali Region Elections, European Union Election Observa
tion Mission Ethiopia 2005, Addis Ababa, 25 August 2005.

9. A significant element was also the dispute over who should be Mayor of Addis
Ababa. Neither Dr Berhanu Nega, chairman of Rainbow, nor Dr Admassu

Gebeyheu, chairman of EUDP-Medhin, had stood for parliament, only for the
Addis Ababa city council. The pre-election presumption was that Dr Berhanu
should be Mayor, and he agreed. However, the EUDP-Medhin won 14 parlia-

mentary seats in Addis Ababa while Rainbow took 4; the EUDP-Medhin also
took 64 of 135 council seats. It therefore suggested Dr Admassu had better cre-

dentials for Mayor. There were heated discussions before it was agreed that
Berhanu should become Mayor with Admassu as deputy. In the event neither
took up these positions.
10. Original estimates counted 42 deaths, but a Commission of Inquiry subse-
quently established that 193 civilians and seven police had died. Contro
versially, it exonerated the security force from using undue force.
11. None of the parties in the election offered any solution to the question of the
constituency claimed by the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), still ostensibly
engaged in armed struggle. Prime Minister Meles announced after the election
that he was prepared to talk to the OLF “without pre-conditions”. This was
widely seen as an attempt to co-opt Oromo support against the CUD’s Amhara
constituency. However, no subsequent progress appears to have been made
with this initiative, despite the splits that have now occurred in the OLF.
12. There were allegations of misuse of funds raised by two different bodies, accu-
sations of illegal decisions being taken by Chairman Hailu Shawel, and public
disagreements between the Chairman and his deputy, Birtukan Mideksa.
Within a couple of months of the pardons, Dr Berhanu Nega was suggesting

that all should go their own separate ways. They did just that.
13. It might be noted that even at the press conference announcing Negasso’s
appointment, other members of the central committee lost no time in airing
differences, with public comments to the effect that “actually, Mr. Chairman,

we haven’t agreed on that issue”.

14. The AEUP, although it claims to be multi-national, is widely perceived as
463
pp. [327–337]
NOTES
essentially an Amhara organization. In 2010, the UDJ and AEUP discussed a

merger but negotiations broke down over AEUP’s demands that the UDJ with-
drew from MEDREK and that AEUP leaders should take the lion’s share of top
positions in the merged organization.
15. The government’s figures have often been criticized though not seriously chal-
lenged, and current output and figures suggest the government claims for
growth 2004–2012 are essentially accurate. The IMF, using different criteria,
has put average growth at nearer to 7–8 per cent, but even this is significantly
higher than in most non-oil-producing African states.
16. It should, of course, be noted that opposition parties consistently claim with
some validity that government agencies inhibit their activities and harass their
members.
13. MAKING SENSE OF ETHIOPIA’S REGIONAL INFLUENCE
1. Ethiopia has always been at the forefront of these principles while giving birth
to, and supporting the Organization of African Unity (OAU), later African
Union (AU). Cf. Guzzini, 1998.
2. “The Foreign Policy of the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia”, Ministry
of Foreign Affairs, November 1996.
3. Expediency included the expulsion of the Sudan Peoples Liberation Army
(SPLA) from Ethiopian territory. Besides, the SPLA had tried to stop the advanc-
ing EPRDF army in western Ethiopia by siding with the Derg army in the final
days of the war. Thus the military victory and coming to power of the EPRDF
led to the expulsion of the SPLA from Ethiopia, which was warmly welcomed
by the Sudanese government because it almost brought about the total military
defeat of the SPLA and factionalism in the SPLM.
4. Ethiopia was the first to recognize Eritrean independence and the EPRDF
entered various economic and security pacts with Eritrea that many felt better
served Asmara’s interests. To this could be added Eritrea’s import, of coffee pur-
chased in Ethiopian birr that it then exported for US dollars, and the many
smuggling operations that were overlooked until Eritrea introduced its currency
in 1997. The details of this episode can be found in Medhane Tadesse, 1999.
5. Ibid. Besides the name “State of Eritrea” had a security connotation attached to
it, as in the State of Israel where unilateral security and brokering regional
power become a defining character of foreign policy.
6. “Revolutionary Democracy on Eritrea and the Issue of Ethiopian Unity.”
Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF), March, 1992.
7. Ibid.
8. Accepting the bone fides of the NIF and giving support to the EPLF, to the
extent that this produced growing dissent within Ethiopia were also mistakes of
considerable magnitude. Running down its military, while no doubt attractive
to Western donors, was clearly mistaken when civil wars were in progress in
neighbouring Sudan, Somalia, and Djibouti, and Eritrea continued to strengthen
its military forces and maintain conscription.
464

NOTES pp. [337–342]
9. Free movement of Islamic NGOs, Sudanese support to Islamist rebels in

Benihangul Gumuz and successive attacks from Al-Ittihad al Islamia in the
Somali region of Ethiopia.
10. Eritrea attacked Ethiopia presuming the EPRDF-led government to be weak
and unstable.
11. Discussions with Dr Tekeda Alemu, State Minister for Foreign Affairs of

Ethiopia, 18 June 2003. Sudanese intelligence services were believed to be

behind the attack against President Hosni Mubarak of Egypt in June 1995 as
he came to attend an OAU summit in Addis Ababa, an operation backed by
the Sudanese security services.
12. The SPLA had been seen by the TPLF as a Mengistu ally and therefore black-
listed and expelled from the Ethiopian territory after 1991.
13. Various discussions with Ali Seid Mohammed, Sudanese Ambassador to
Ethiopia between 1998 and 18 June 2001.
14. Conversations with General Tsadqan Tinsae, former Chief of Staff of the
Ethiopian Defence Forces since 25 March 2003.
15. Ibid., discussions with Arop Deng, SPLA representative to Ethiopia, September
2003.
16. This is reflected in the fact that Ethiopia alone constitutes a peacekeeping oper-
ation in the disputed Abyei region.
17. Starting from mid-1990s al-Ittihad launched a series of terrorist attacks in dif-
ferent Ethiopian cities. There was the bombing of the government-owned
Ghion Hotel in Addis Ababa in January 1996, followed a month later by a
bombing of the Ras Hotel in Diredawa. This was accompanied by a destabiliz-
ing act in Region Five (Somali region) of Ethiopia.
18. The significance of the battle of Luuq and Gedo in June 1997 is largely under-
estimated. Some mention is made about this in Medhane Tadesse, 2002.
19. Ibid.
20. The author was a witness to this development. The Ethiopian and Egyptian-
sponsored conferences at Sodere (January 1997) and Cairo (October 1997)
only succeeded in highlighting the divisions among Somali faction leaders, and
among interested regional powers.
21. Discussions with Abdullahi Yusuf, President of puntland during March 1998
and January 2004, Addis Ababa.
22. This was mainly true until the Kulmiye party’s leader Ahmed Silanyo became
the president of Somaliland, after which the relationship faced minor problems
as the new president became increasingly influenced by an Islamists clique: the
Waddaad. The author had been at the centre of relations between Somaliland
and Ethiopia for many years until early 2001 when the Ethiopian government
formally took over.
23. These included, among others, cooperation with the AU in conflict resolution,
the IGAD peacekeeping mission in Somalia (IGASOM), the establishment of
Liaison Office to the AU in cooperation with IGAD and supporting regional
efforts.
24. This was stated by top American Generals in a presentation at the US Military
465
pp. [342–351]
NOTES
Base in Stuttgart, Germany, January 2012. They hinted that the Ethiopian mil-
itary acts like a US army in Africa.
25. The facilitator’s office is mandated to: “facilitate reconciliation; assist institu-
tional and capacity building efforts; assist the mobilization of financial and
technical resources for the TFG II, as is the TFG II to fulfill its mandate as per
the TFG and the Djibouti agreement.”
26. Meles’ resistance to the war, during the discussions within the TPLF Political
Bureau, was partly attributed to the diplomatic wrangling with the West.
27. A series of discussions with Tewolde Woldemariam, the most powerful TPLF
leader during the war with Eritrea, May 2002–July 2006.
28. EEBC’s statement in response to the Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles’ letter,
3 October 2003; Ethiopian Minister of Foreign Affairs, Press Release,

29 September 2003; Letter from the President of Eritrea to the UN Secretary

General, dated 17 September 2003, shed light on the issue surrounding the

border issue and the TSZ.

29. Connell, 2005. Almost all top officials of the Eritrean government who were
later imprisoned by Isayas hinted that Ethiopian military incursion was a blow
that forced discussions on such matters.
30. The Ethiopian government had to send a delegation, led by the Chief of Staff
of the Armed Forces General Tsadkan Gebre Tensae, to reassure and calm
neighbouring governments that Ethiopian military power will not be directed
against them.
31. The Sana’a Pact, June 2001. Apart from marginalizing Eritrea diplomatically
the Sana’a Pact stipulated economic sanctions as well as support to the Eritrean
opposition. Though Sudan and Yemen joined for their own specific reasons the
role played by Ethiopia was crucial.
32. “Africa Summary: IGAD’s Role in Stability and Diplomacy in the Horn of
Africa.” Presentation by IGAD Executive Secretary Mahboub Maalim at
Chatham House, London 9 May 2013. He described Eritrea as still a member
state of IGAD, but on a self-imposed suspension.
33. Ibid.
34. The late Meles Zenawi played a crucial role in the discussions that led to the
economic vision of Djibouti as affirmed by the Djiboutian President, Ismail
Omar Guelleh, when he spoke to Sub-Saharan Informer, December 2013.
35. Djibouti’s Minister of Economy and Finance, Moussa Dawaleh in New Africa,
Wednesday, 20 June 2012 14:14.
36. See Thomas and Wilkin, 1999.
37. Discussion with Neway Gebreab, Chief Economic Adviser to the Ethiopian
Prime Minister, January 2002.
38. A detailed analysis on this is found in Medhane Tadesse, 2005.
39. See Medhane Tadesse, 2004, a study that revolved around water and oil and
was used as a road map by IGAD and several member countries.
40. According to Christopher Clapham, in an unpublished paper he wrote around
2000, this capacity for self-presentation has helped to create a belief in the
donor community that the Prime Minister himself was a dedicated supporter
466

NOTES pp. [351–355]
of the policy agendas promoting democracy, open markets and respect for
human rights but that he was held back by “obstructionist” elements within
his own party.
41. And with Nigerian and South African leaders leaving power before him, it was
only a matter of time before Meles occupied a leading role in Africa’s affairs
and in the AU/NEPAD circuit. Meles was also instrumental in defining the
newly evolving relations with emerging economies. The most important devel-
opment in Africa’s international system after the end of the Cold War is the
increasing engagement of China in Africa. Here again Meles played a critical
role in defining and articulating the terms of engagement on this new and com-
plex phenomenon.
42. Discussions with Western diplomats in Addis Ababa over the years. It is not an
exaggeration to suggest that the Ethiopian government was the only Third
World government to mobilize a lot of resources from the west by maintaining
its independence. It was labelled as the anointed leadership and was often
referred to as project ownership by international financial institutions. This
refers to the fact that the Ethiopian leadership’s tough negotiating mechanisms
with the IMF and its rejection of donors’ aid conditions.
43. Meles had been a major foreign policy currency. Because of the role he had
been playing in Africa’s affairs and the way he positioned Ethiopia in securing
peace and stability in Africa, and so on, his name had been instrumental in
attracting international finance.
44. See Medhane Tadesse, 2009.
45. FES sponsored Cairo meetings on the Greater Horn of Africa. While the for-
eign ministry and foreign office tilted towards the politics of cooperation, the
army and security services, particularly military intelligence, pursued the poli-
tics of destabilization. Egypt has been able to recruit all neighbouring coun-
tries, except Kenya, at different levels and different times in a way to execute
hostile policies against Ethiopia.
46. “The Nile Issue: From the Unknown to the Uncertain”, The Currentanalyst.
com, June 2012.
47. The policy came to be largely restricted to Egyptian support for Eritrea and,
more accurately, evidence of heightened Egyptian involvement in Somalia, to
undermine Ethiopian influence.
48. The foundation stone for GERD was laid on 2 April 2011. Egypt has

demanded that Ethiopia cease construction on the dam as a precondition to

negotiations and sought regional support for its position. However, Ethiopia
resisted the call; other nations in the Nile Basin Initiative have expressed sup-
port for the dam, including Sudan, the only other nation downstream on the
Blue Nile, which has accused Egypt of inflaming the situation.
49. Field Marshal El-Sisi’s world view is based on the Gulf where he spent most of
his career, and if he has any view towards upper riparian countries, particu-
larly Ethiopia, it is one of ignorance, contempt and perhaps hostility.
467
pp. [357–361]
NOTES
14. THE ETHIOPIAN ECONOMY: THE DEVELOPMENTAL STATE VS.

THE FREE MARKET
1. From 2004 to 2011 economic growth has averaged around 10.6 per cent per
year, more than twice the Sub-Saharan African average (World Bank 2012a).
2. “The journalist as terrorist: an Ethiopian story”, Open Democracy, http://
www.opendemocracy.net/abiye-teklemariam-megenta/journalist-as-terrorist-
ethiopian-story (last access Jan. 2013).
3. “Policy—A Multidimensional Approach”, Oxford Poverty & Human
Development Initiative (OPHI), http://www.ophi.org.uk/policy/multidimen-
sional-poverty-index/ (last access Jan. 2013).
4. United Nations Development Programme: Human Development Reports,
http://hdr.undp.org/en/statistics/ (last access Jan. 2013).
5. “In 2009, over 22 per cent of the rural population was dependent on a combi-
nation of emergency food aid and safety net programs” (Dessalegn Rahmato,
2011). Emergency humanitarian aid amounted to about $600bn in 2010. The
United States is the main donor. See Global Humanitarian Assistance, http://
www.globalhumanitarianassistance.org/countryprofile/ethiopia (last access
Jan. 2013).
6. Access Capital, 2011.
7. In Ethiopia, the fiscal year—and hence the budget—goes from July to July of
the following year.
8. IDA-IMF 2011.
9. IMF 2012.
10. From between 8 and 9 million tons at the end of the 1990s to a forecast 25 mil-
lion tons in 2013 (Central Statistics Agency of Ethiopia [CSA], www.csa.gov.
et).
11. Interviews, Addis Ababa, October 2012.
12. MoPED, 1993.
13. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SL.AGR.EMPL.
ZS?page=3 (last access Jan. 2013).
14. Lefort, 1981.
15. MoPED, 1993.
16. Ayele Kuris, 2006.
17. Young, 1997; Aregawi Berhe, 2009.
18. Meles Zenawi was both Chairman of the TPLF and head of the executive from
1991 until his death on 20 August 2012.

19. New York Times, 29 May–1 June 1991.

20. MoPED, 1993; EPRDF, 1993; Meles Zenawi, 2006. The following quotes are
taken from these three documents.
21. Clapham, 2009.
22. EPRDF, 2007.
23. Ibid.
24. Ibid.
25. In addition to banking and insurance, the first list of these “heights” included
468

NOTES pp. [361–366]
“rail, air and sea transport, electricity, telephone, water supplies, textile indus-
try, engineering works, textile and chemical industries, metal foundries, min-
ing, etc.” (EPRDF, 1993).
26. EPRDF, 2007.
27. Dessalegn Rahmato, 2009 has fully developed this theme. For a rural case
study see also Lefort, 2010.
28. Local authorities demand that the peasants spend at least 20 per cent of their
time on collective labour called “development work” or “social work”.
29. See the no. 3 Special Issue of Renewal (Tehadso), the bi-monthly EPRDF mag-
azine, dated April 2002, which summarizes a document called The EPRDF’s
Rural Development Vision—An Overview.
30. Article 40, paragraph 3 of the Constitution: “The right to ownership of rural
and urban land, as well as of all natural resources, is exclusively vested in the
State and in the peoples of Ethiopia. Land is a common property of the
Nations, Nationalities and Peoples of Ethiopia and shall not be subject to sale
or to other means of exchange.”
31. EPRDF, 1993.
32. For more details on this form of control, see “Party-Statals: How the ruling
party’s ‘endowments’ operate”, 19 March 2009, Addis Ababa US Embassy

cable released by Wikileaks.

33. EPRDF, 1993.
34. Ibid.
35. MoPED, 1993.
36. Paulos Milkias, 2003, Meles’s quote.
37. MoPED, 1993.
38. Ibid.
39. Ibid.
40. Ibid.
41. Shortly before Haile Selassie’s fall, cereal production per capita was around
150 kg/person/year (see Lefort, 1981). In 2000, it was around 140 kg/person/
year, and in 2003 it was 120 kg/person/year (CSA, 2012). It was only in
2005–6 that the 1974 level was reached again.
42. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NY.GDP.MKTP.CD/
countries?page=2 (last access Jan. 2013).
43. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NV.IND.TOTL.ZS/
countries?page=2 (last access Jan. 2013).
44. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/BN.CAB.XOKA.
GD.ZS?page=2 (last access Jan. 2013).
45. Paulos Milkias, 2003.
46. See Tronvoll and Hagmann, 2011; and for a local rural study Lefort, 2007.
47. Over 200 demonstrators were killed and thousands of political opponents, real
or alleged, were arrested.
48. EPRDF, 2006.
49. Ibid.
50. Ibid. and EPRDF, 2007.
469
pp. [366–370]
NOTES
51. EPRDF, 2007.
52. Meles Zenawi, 2006.
53. This crisis led to a massive purge, with the removal of top historical Front lead-
ers. Thousands of lesser party cadres were purged from their positions.
54. EPRDF, 2006.
55. EPRDF, 2007.
56. Address to the House of People’s Representatives, 19 March 2009.

57. Esayas Kebede, head of the Agricultural Investment Agency, to Reuters

(12 November 2009).

58. EPRDF, 2006.
59. Out of the over three million Municipal Councillors elected in 2008, less than
a dozen belong to the opposition. Out of the 547 MPs elected to the Federal
Parliament in 2010, there was only one independent and one member of the
opposition.
60. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NY.GDP.MKTP.
KD.ZG (last access on Jan. 2013)
61. Walta Information Centre, 7 June 2012.

62. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/DT.ODA.ODAT.

PC.ZS (last access Jan. 2013).
63. World Bank, 2012b.
64. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/DT.ODA.ODAT.
PC.ZS (last access Jan. 2013).
65. $3.4bn from 2009 to 2013. See details of Ethiopia Protection of Basic Services
Program Phase II Project, World Bank, at http://www.worldbank.org/projects/
P103022/ethiopia-protection-basic-services-program-phase-ii-project?lang=en
66. Tewodaj Mogues et al., 2011.
67. Aklog Birara, 2010.
68. Reporter, 20 August 2011. A World Bank study states that “14% of Ethiopian

adults regularly receive an annual average of $600 from abroad”, Afrika

News, 1 November 2010. Access Capital mentions $1.4bn, for 2012, $2.5bn

for 2011.
69. World Bank, 2012c.
70. Statistics reported by the National Bank Of Ethiopia.
71. Ibid.
72. Ibid.
73. Ezega, 2012.
75. National Bank of Ethiopia.
76. Reuters, 5 July 2011.


78. Ibid.
80. Ibid.
81. World Bank, Ethiopia: Protection of Basic Services Project, Overview,
17 September 2010.

470

NOTES pp. [370–373]
82. UNICEF, 2010.
83. World Bank, 2012c.
85. Davis et al., 2010.
86. MOFED, 2010b.
87. Ibid.
88. Davis et al., 2010.
89. Many peasants are not at ease with their use, weather uncertainty restricts
their efficiency and their relatively uniform use often doesn’t fit the extreme
variety of Ethiopian climactic and ecological systems.
90. Spielman, 2011.
91. CSA, 2012.
92. Ibid.
93. Ibid.
94. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NV.AGR.TOTL.ZS/
countries/1W-ET?display=graph (last access on Jan. 2013).
95. CSA, 2012.
97. CSAn 2012.
98. Ibid.
101. Ibid.
102. Teff is a typical Ethiopian cereal used to prepare the basic food of the high-
lands, the large injera pancake.
103. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/AG.YLD.CREL.KG/
countries (last access Jan. 2013).
104. Usually defined as a household where all the members can eat three meals a
day, throughout the year.
105. ‘Policy—A Multidimensional Approach’, OPHI, http://www.ophi.org.uk/pol-
icy/multidimensional-poverty-index/ (last access Jan. 2013).
106. All figures concerning the targets of the GTP and quotes without references
are taken from MOFED 2010b.
107. De Waal, 2012.
108. Agence France-Presse (AFP), 15 September 2010.

109. World Bank, 2012b. The same source adds: “In the coming years, the num-
ber of young people entering the urban labor market will be almost ten times
the number of people retiring”.
110. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SL.UEM.TOTL.ZS
(accessed November 2014). A survey made in 2012 by the author in a rural
kebele showed that around three quarters of people aged eighteen to thirty
are jobless or landless.
111. “Around 50% of the urban men between age 15 and 30 are unemployed,
Ethiopia has one of the highest unemployment rates worldwide”. Serneels,
2004.
471
pp. [373–377]
NOTES

113. Reuters, 13 November 2012.

114. Walta Information Centre, 6 April 2010.
115. “Investing in Ethiopia—Monetary Policy Review”, Access Capital, April

2011.
116. Ohashi, 2011a.
117. The best studies on this process are Dessalegn Rahmato, 2011; Oakland
Institute, 2011; Imeru Tamrat, 2010.
118. See for example Prime Minister Meles Zenawi’s interview on ITMN
Television (26 June 2011).

119. Dessalegn Rahmato, 2011.

120. MOFED 2010b.
122. Ibid.
123. These expulsions and the gathering of expellees in new villages (“villageiza-
tion”) have raised international concerns. See for example Human Rights
Watch, 2012.
124. Ibid.
125. Ibid.
126. Aklog Birira, 2011.
128. Ibid.
129. Meles Zenawi, ITMN Television, 26 June 2011.
130. For more details, see Lefort, 2011.

131. L’Hebdo (Switzerland), 3 September 2009.


133. Ibid.
134. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NE.EXP.GNFS.ZS
135. Reporter, 13 November 2010.

136. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NE.IMP.GNFS.ZS

137. For example, Ethiopia is a member of the Common Market for East and
Southern Africa (COMESA) and is set to join the WTO in 2014 (Walta
Information Centre, 17 January 2013).

138. Walta Information Centre, 30 October 2012.
139. Walta Information Centre, 5 November 2012; Bloomberg, 7 September 2011;

and Access Capital, 2012.

140. Khat is a mild drug grown and consumed in East Africa and parts of Arabia.
See Ezekiel Gebissa, 2004.
142. Reuters, 23 November 2010.

143. Ethiopian News Agency, 26 January 2006.

144. Sugar production is aimed to increase sevenfold and its export value to rise
from nil to $661m in 2015.
472

NOTES pp. [377–379]
145. Projections made by Access Capital, 2011.

147. World Bank, 2009.
148. The Ethiopian national currency is the birr. When GTP was drawn up, the
exchange rate was about $1 for 17 birr.
149. Ken Ohashi, World Bank Representative for Ethiopia and Sudan, Ohashi,
2011a.
150. Ethiopia, Country Strategy Paper 2011–15, African Development Bank
Group, April 2011.
151. Access Ethiopia, 2011.
152. IDA-IMF, 2011.
153. See the chapter on urban renewal by Perrine Duroyaume in this book.
154. World Bank, 2012a. That means a price of more than 600 birr per quintal for
maize (Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, http://
www.fao.org/giews/english/gfpm/index.htm, accessed November 2014), the
cheapest cereal on the market. Given that the lowest wages in Addis Ababa
hover around 500 birr per month, and that a family of five needs 75 kilos of
cereals per month, then if the head of the family is the only one to work his
or her whole income will have to be spent on simply feeding their family.
155. Addis Fortune, 18 July 2011.

157. Ibid.

159. CSA.
160. Food and Agriculture Organization, http://www.fao.org/giews/english/gfpm/
index.htm (last access Jan. 2013).
161. CSA.
162. In 1991 the US dollar was worth 2.01 birr.
163. Reuters, 6 July 2009.

164. Walta Information Centre, 7 June 2012.

165. “House endorses 137.8 bln birr budget a week after schedule”, Capital
(Ethiopia), 23 July 2012, http://www.capitalethiopia.com/index.php?option=

com_content&view=article&id=1424:house-endorses-1378-bln-birr-budget-
a-week-after-schedule-&catid=54:news&Itemid=27 (last access Jan. 2013).
166. MOFED, 2010b.
167. “Ethiopia: World Bank Approves New Funding to Improve Delivery of
Education, Health and Other Services for 84 Million People—Also Pledges
Support for Ethiopia’s Main Roads”, World Bank press release, 25 September

2012, http://www.worldbank.org/en/news/2012/09/25/ethiopia-world-bank-
approves-new-funding-improve-delivery-education-health-and-other-services
168. Walta Information Centre, 22 December 2012.

169. Capital, 23 July 2012.

170. Fortune, 10 July 2011.

171. India’s existing and expected investments are estimated to be $4bn.
473
pp. [379–383]
NOTES
172. MoFED, 2010a.
173. Ohashi, 2011a.
174. World Bank, 2009.
176. Ibid.
177. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/BX.KLT.DINV.
CD.WD (last access Jan. 2013)
178. UN, 2012.
179. IDA-IMF, 2011. Public corporations still include: Ethiopian Air Lines,
Ethiopian Shipping Lines, Ethiopian Telecoms, Ethiopian Electric and Power
Corporation, Ethiopian Metal Engineering Corporation, Commercial Bank
of Ethiopia, Development Bank of Ethiopia, and Construction and Business
Bank (World Bank, 2012b).
180. World Bank and IFC, 2013.
183. Ohashi, 2011a.
184. US Embassy cable (15 January 2010), released by Wikileaks on 30 August,

2011.
186. Ibid.
187. Confidential Report on the Ethiopian economy, from a large international aid
organization (2010).
188. MIDROC: Mohammed International Development Research and
Organization Companies.
189. Ventures, 2012.
190. Bloomberg, 27 February 2012.

191. “Privatisation or monopolization in Ethiopia”, Addis Ababa US Embassy

cable (11 November 2008), released by Wikileaks.

192. Confidential Report on the Ethiopian economy, from a large international aid

organization (2010).
193. Altenburg, 2010.
194. Ibid.
196. UN, 2007.
199. The subtitle of the World Bank report Doing Business 2013/Ethiopia is
“Smarter Regulations for Small and Medium Size Enterprises”.
200. Afrik, 10 January 2011.

202. Transparency International, http://cpi.transparency.org/cpi2012/results/#
CountryResults (last access November 2014).
203. Kar and Freitas, 2012.
474

NOTES pp. [383–389]
205. Confidential Report on the Ethiopian economy produced by a large interna-

tional aid organization (November 2010).
206. Sutton and Kellow, 2010.
207. Ohashi, 2011a.
208. Ibid.
209. Ohashi, 2009.
210. Ibid.
211. Ibid.
213. IDA-IMF, 2011.
214. Ibid.
215. Davis et al., 2010.
216. Ohashi, 2011b.

218. “Ethiopia: IMF On Retreat On Ethiopia’s Growth Outlook”, Addis Fortune,

17 June 2012.

219. “Ethiopia: An African Lion?”, BBC, 31 October 2012.

220. Reuters, 8 October 2013.

221. Walta Information Centre, 4 February 2014.

222. Food and Agriculture Organization, http://www.fao.org/giews/pricetool/?

seriesQuery=79 (last access November 2014).
223. Food and Agriculture Organization, 2014.
224. Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development, 2010.
225. Bloomberg, 25 November 2013.

226. Al Ayat, 9 December 2013.

227. Interview with Essayas Kebede, the man in charge of these agricultural invest-
ments at the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development. Deutsche
Welle, 20 March 2014.

228. Jan Mikkelsen, resident representative of the IMF, in Addis Fortune,

10 November 2013.

229. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NE.RSB.GNFS.ZS

230. Jan Mikkelsen in Addis Fortune, 10 November 2013.

231. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/DT.ODA.ODAT.CD

232. CSA.
233. Martins, 2014. But even these figures are probably underestimated. A paper
detailing some of my recent research in a rural area in northern Shoa in
2012–13 (still to be published) shows that three fourths of the 16- to 35-year-
old males who are not in school do not have a sufficient income to lead a nor-
mal autonomous life. This proportion was confirmed by the local
authorities.
234. The Economist, 11 February 2014.

235. Addis Fortune, 16 February 2014.

236. Martins, 2014.
475
pp. [389–400]
NOTES
237. Rick Rowden quoted in The Economist, 11 February 2014.

238. Calculated from statistics on the World Bank’s website, http://www.world-

bank.org/en/publication/global-economic-prospects/regional-outlooks/ssa
239. Geiger and Moller, 2013.
240. Addis Fortune, 10 November 2013.

241. Data, World Bank, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/DT.ODA.ODAT.CD


243. Guang Zhe Chen, World Bank Country Director for Ethiopia, Press Release,
18 June 2013.

244. Addis Fortune, 10 November 2013.

245. Addis Fortune, 12 April 2014.


15. ADDIS ABABA AND THE URBAN RENEWAL IN ETHIOPIA
1. ESA, 2009.
2. Ibid.
3. MOFED, 2010.
4. Bahru Zewde, 1991, p. 60.
5. Ibid., pp. 68–71.
6. Fasil Giorgis and Gerard, 2007.
7. Wubshet Berhanu, 2002, pp. 103–5.
8. Wubshet Berhanu, 2002, p. 99. Between 1935 and 1941, the population of
Addis Ababa grew from 100,000 to 143,000 inhabitants with an annual
growth rate of 6.1 per cent.
9. Meskerem Shawul Areda, 2008, pp. 102–6.
10. In 1962 Bole airport was inaugurated, replacing the one at Lideta, unsuitable
for the new planes. Ethiopian Airlines received an important boost with the
opening of new African routes.
11. At the beginning of the 1960s, the city’s population shared just 7 per cent of
land, whereas about 60 per cent of the land was possessed by the royal family.
The rest was owned by the church, the state and foreign delegations: Essayas
Deribe, 2003.
12. Berlan, 1963, p. 63.
13. Proclamation n°47/1975.
14. Proclamation n°104/1976.
15. UN Habitat, 2007, p. 10.
16. Proclamation n°292/1986. In 1986, the government reintroduced the possibil-
ity of renting by the legalization of cohabitation practices.
17. Bezunesh Tamru, 2007, pp. 163–6. Average urban growth ratio in Addis
Ababa was in the 1961–65 period 7.2 per cent; in 1965–84, 4.7 per cent; in
1984–94, 4.1 per cent.
18. According to Wubshet (2002:97), “the total developed area in this period was
476

NOTES pp. [400–408]
about 6.500 hectares (or about 23 per cent of the total area of the City as of
1999”.
19. UN Habitat, 2003.
20. CSA, 1994.
21. GTZ, 2003.
22. Esrael, 2005
23. Ibid.
24. UN Habitat, 2007.
25. In 2011, according to the CSA, the inflation rate was about 35 per cent.
26. Ezana Haddis, 2007.
27. MOFED, 2010, pp. 47–8.
28. http://grandmillenniumdam.net/ (last access on 23.02.12).
29. De Poix, 2007.
30. For the year 2010, the government collected about $88 million in profit taxes
on public and private banks, that is to say 15 banking establishments of which
three are nationally owned: “Banking business booming in Ethiopia” in www.
newbusinessethiopia.com, 8 January 2010. Available at: http://newbusinesse-

thiopia.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=56:banking-
business-booming-in-ethiopia&catid=37:finance&Itemid=37 (last access on
12.12.11).
31. Data collected in field surveys undertaken in ten households residing in the
Ayat development, in March 2008.
32. Data collected from interviews undertaken with four RED representatives in
December 2009.
33. “City to release land”, Addis Fortune, 7 August, 2011. http://www.addisfor-

tune.com/Vol_12_No_588_Archive/City%20to%20Release%20610ht%20
of%20Land.htm (last access 24.10.11).
34. Proclamation 271/2012. http://www.thereporterethiopia.com/Politics-and-
Law/the-new-land-lease-proclamation-changes-implications.html (last access
31.01.12).
35. Elias Yitbarek 2008. LDPs are infrastructure tools that aim to restructure
neighbourhoods delimited by guidelines that are supposed to address the pre-
occupations of their inhabitants and the need for modernization. In the case of
Casa Incis, it seems to have justified a complete renovation of the complex.
Inhabitants’ testimonials evoke the brutality of the eviction and the absence of
clear information.
36. Addis Ababa Chamber of Commerce and Sectoral Associations, 2011.
37. Berhanu Zeleke, 2006.
38. Source: Land Management Office of Addis Ababa City Government, October
2009.
39. At that time about 200 birr for a studio for which the price is 15,000 birr.
Source: Office of the IHDP.
40. Such as injera cooking, washing, the preparations for religious festivals.
41. UN Habitat, 2010b.
42. Data collected from interviews with 35 households living in condominium
apartments between November 2007 and December 2008.
477
pp. [410–424]
NOTES
43. UN Habitat (2010b).

44. CSA, 2007.
45. Proclamation n°286/2002. Under 1,800 ETB income received by a landlord for
renting of housing is exempt from taxes. “Officially” declared rental income is
often below this threshold.
46. Data issued from household-surveys undertaken with 35 households living in
condominium housing between November 2007 and December 2008.
16. THE MELES ZENAWI ERA: FROM REVOLUTIONARY MARXISM TO

STATE DEVELOPMENTALISM
1. This text was written in May 2013 and updated in August 2014.
2. Balsvik, 1985.
3. See in this volume the chapter by Christopher Clapham.
4. See Erlich, 1996.
5. Gramsci [see appended bibliography for the various dates]
6. See the TPLF 1976 Manifesto.
7. See Prunier, 2010.
8. Gebru Tareke 2009: 81
9. This author frequently visited Ethiopia during the war years and remembers
very clearly that the true war aims of the TPLF were ambiguous to the public,
both among the Derg supporters and among its enemies.
10. The Eritrean secession in itself was a non-solution. Not only could the various
ethnonationalist strands making up Ethiopia not follow the same path, but
Eritrea itself was eventually to degenerate into such a problem child of the
Ethiopian situation that it could not be seen as part of the solution, but rather
as a sad example of an errant orientation.
11. It would be interesting to study the birth and growth of social differentiation
in Ethiopia ranging from the failure of Tewodros to the partial success of Haile
Selassie. The problem of Haile Selassie is that he was defeated by his own suc-
cess: he presided over the birth of a class society whose evolution he could nei-
ther understand nor control and which finally blew up in his face.
12. See Abir,1968. This key period of Ethiopian history falls outside the purview
of this volume. But its centrality to the Ethiopian world view would deserve a
serious treatment in another context.
13. This author was a JIOG observer in the 1992 elections and had the occasion
to personally witness this situation.
14. The Oromo Liberation Front, the other main ethno-nationalist organization
which had fought the Derg regime, seen as an “Amhara” regime, alongside the
TPLF but independently from it.
15. See for example Pausewang, Tronvoll and Aalen, 2002: 32.
16. By this term we mean the mostly urbanized members of a group with multi-
ethnic origins who had progressively identified more and more with global
Ethiopian nationalism throughout the nineteenth century and for whom the
Amhara culture, although not completely theirs, had become a symbol and a
beacon of national identification.
478

NOTES pp. [424–431]
17. This does not mean that the ethno-nationalistic movements were fake in their
defence of democracy; it simply meant that their concept of “democracy” was
often more ethnic and regional than truly nation-wide. The notion of trans-eth-
nic democratic citizenship was often more a politically correct verbal referent
than an intimately lived feeling.
18. See the chapter by Sarah Vaughan in this book.
19. Since the days of Gondar, the problem of Abyssinia/Ethiopia, like that of most
multicultural empires, had been the balance between centre and periphery,
which permanently threatened to veer into tyranny or on the contrary to
degenerate into anarchy.
20. This is exactly what led him later to study economics by correspondence, a
move of almost touching modesty when one thinks of the (often unfounded)
dominant feeling of economic omniscience among world leaders.
21. See footnote 21 in my chapter on the Eritrean question.
22. Given Tigray’s state of extreme economic neglect since the end of World War
Two, there was also an element of catching up.
23. Even though a collective leadership of sorts still existed in the EPLF/PFDJ in
the mid-1990s, it was more nominal than real and the president’s name could
already be used as a summary of “his” country’s political life.
24. This bizarre “economic” concept was indeed used in confidential memos issued
by Asmara in 1997.
25. This was the price he had to pay for his moderation on the Eritrean issue.
26. The battles lines drawn in 2001 were not born overnight. They resulted from
a slow accretion of pent-up political dissent within the TPLF, going back to at
least 1995 (see Paulos Milkias 2003).
27. For a more detailed account of this election, see the chapter by Patrick Gilkes.
28. This was anathema to the hard core Amhara ethno-nationalists who saw in
article 39 the hated symbol of Eritrean secession and an open door for other
ethnic groups, such as the Oromo or the Tigrayans themselves, to secede if they
strongly rejected the state’s central authority. Article 39 was seen by the
Amhara as a sword of Damocles hanging over the very existence of Ethiopia.
But for the other nationalities, it was seen on the contrary as the ultimate guar-
antee against a return to pre-revolutionary Amhara domination.
29. Another bout of demonstrations in November 2005 led to the brutal killing of
around 200 demonstrators (the exact numbers have never been clearly given)
by the security forces.
30. The Atlas method is a rough-and-ready method, still widely used (World
Bank), whereby the country’s GNP is simply divided by its population. The
PPP method (Purchasing Power Parity) is a much more sophisticated system as
it takes the purchasing power of the local dollar and resets it within the frame-
work of the purchasing power of that same dollar in the US, taking into
account the price differences. PPP is higher than Atlas in most cases.
31. After hesitating about participating or not, the opposition MPs started to drift
in small groups to the institutions they had initially refused to attend. This
tactic of late and dispersed joining eventually resulted in complete political
irrelevance.
479
pp. [431–436]
NOTES
32. For a comparison between authoritarianism and economic policy in China and

Ethiopia, see Cabestan 2012.
33. See the relevant chapter on economics by René Lefort in this volume.
34. This is an absolutely fascinating piece of diplomatic double game which I
intend to discuss—and hopefully clarify—in the work I am preparing on the
recent history of Somalia since the fall of Siad Barre.
35. The present Somalia situation remains today stuck roughly at the point
where it was in early 2009, in spite of the limited defeat of the radical al-Sha-

baab Islamist movement and the international community’s subsequent hollow

self-congratulation.
36. The personality cult that has developed around the dead Meles had no prece-
dent when he was alive.
480
INDEX
Abadir 22 City Government (AACG) 404

Abajifar, sultan of Jimma 186, 188 Holy Trinity Cathedral 75, 76,
Abay Tsehay 426 86
Abba Garima monastery, Ethiopia Imperial Palace 218
79 Integrated Housing Development
Abba Gebre Medhin 79 Programme 407–8
Abba Melaku Wolde Mikael 77 Menelik Hospital 186
Abdallah Jaber 252 Mercato 40, 405
Abdullahi, Yusuf 435 Municipal Council 430
Abebe Abiye 216 Organization of African Unity
Abebe Aregay 193 (OAU) 101, 156, 203, 221,
Abiotawi Demokrasi 233, 341, 398, 418
(Revolutionary Democracy) 261
Real Estate Developers (REDs)
Abole, Ethiopia 293
405–6
Abraham, Abuna 72
‘rental city’ 409–10
Abun (Egyptian Metropolitan
renovation programmes 406–7
bishop) 65
shantytowns 13, 395, 401–2, 404
Abyssinia 17
skyscrapers 13, 386, 404
acephalous (headless) power rela-
tions 39, 47 Somalia Facilitator Liaison Office
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia 13, 16, 17, 342
26, 30, 41, 43, 45, 52, 69, 71, Theological College of the Holy
74, 83, 84–5, 104, 107, 108, Trinity 79
109–10, 117, 126, 127, 128, 147, University (AAU) 132, 301, 318
149, 155, 171, 177, 185, 187, urban renewal 13, 406–7
189, 191, 192, 193, 196, 212, Adi Da’ero, Ethiopia 271
214–15, 226, 227, 250, 286, 304, Adi-Hageray, Ethiopia 267
314, 316, 326, 328–9, 337–8, Adigrat, Ethiopia 263
386, 389, 396–411 Adoyamara (Afar) moiety 34
Arada 407 Adwa, Ethiopia 79, 98, 149, 169,
Arat Kilo 407 175, 176, 189, 418
481
INDEX
Afaan Oromoo, language 24 Akele Guzay, Eritrea 159, 169, 234

Afar, Ethiopia 35, 94, 197, 286, Akobo, Ethiopia 47, 48
322 Aksum 19, 64, 67, 96, 108, 235,
Afar Liberation Front (ALF) 35, 263, 287, 305, 396, 422
221 Alawites 112
Afar people 22, 30, 31, 32–5, 221, Albania 249, 270, 276, 360
288, 290, 292 alcohol 45, 136, 223
Afar-Issa conflict 34 Alem Zewde 215
Afghanistan 222, 226 Alexandria, Egypt 65, 66, 72
Afran Qallo music band 26 Algeria 147
Africa Orientale Italiana (AOI) Algiers Agreement (2000) 278, 301,
239–40, 241 344
African Development Bank 378 Ali II of Yejju 161, 162–3, 164, 165
African Renaissance 15 alimentary taboos 22, 109
African Union (AU) 13, 15–16, 117, Alimirah, sultan of Awsa 35, 197
156, 315, 346, 350, 351, 354 aliyah (immigration) 21
Mission for Somalia (AMISOM) All Amhara People’s Organization
342 (AAPO) 299, 320
New Partnership for Africa’s De- All Ethiopia Trade Union (AETU)
velopment (NEPAD) 350, 351 219
‘Afro’ style hair 193 All Ethiopia Unity Party (AEUP)
Agame, Ethiopia 249 315, 319, 320–1, 323, 324, 428,
Agew people 17, 20–1 430
Agricultural Development-Led Allaba people 40
Industrialization (ADLI) 362–6, Allah, oneness of 106
372, 432 ‘Allahu akbar’ 116
Agricultural Extension System 370, Alsace, France 176
385 Alula Engida 419
agriculture 18, 24, 27, 29, 36, Aman Andom 216, 217
38–9, 43, 45, 47, 49–50, 197, Amda Syon I, emperor of Ethiopia
211–12, 225, 228, 239, 284, 305, 236
358, 359, 362–77, 380–1, 385, Amedeo, duke of Aosta 192
387–90, 403 Amhara National Democratic
al-Ahbash 110–13 Movement (ANDM) 281
Ahmad ibn Ibrahim al-Ghazi, 22, Amhara people 17, 18–19, 20, 22,
97 23, 25, 29, 137, 172, 193, 196,
Ahmadiyya 97 197, 214, 219, 247, 261, 280,
aid 322, 349, 358, 367–8, 372 287, 303, 317, 320, 322, 336,
Aida Desta, princess of Ethiopia 418, 424, 428–9
202 Amhara Regional State, Ethiopia
Aideed, Mohamed Farah 340 21, 94, 107, 286, 296, 297, 314,
AIDS (acquired immune deficiency 325, 326, 329
syndrome) 16, 85 Amharic language 17, 19, 21, 22,
Aissaita, Ethiopia 35 37, 124, 127, 137, 138, 155,
AK-47s 45 164, 238, 316, 321
482
INDEX
al-Amin Mohamed Said 252 Asayamara (Afar) moiety 34

al-Amoudi, Mohammed Hussein asceticism 84
Ali 106, 140, 381 Asfa Wesen (Amha Selassie) 188,
Ancel, Stéphane 5 199, 200, 205
ancestors of the Konso people Asmara, Eritrea 17, 187, 196, 239,
(waka) 42 241, 245, 247, 248
Andinet see Unity for Democracy Assab, Eritrea 320, 324
and Justice (UDJ) ‘Association in the Name of the
Anglican Christianity 125 Saints’ (Mahibere Kidusan) 83
Angola 209, 250 Aswan Dam, Egypt 147
Ankober, Ethiopia 396 Athanasius, Saint 65
Antonios, Abuna 81 atheism 78, 103
Anuak people 47, 48–9 Atnafu Abate 77, 218–19
Anwar Mosque, Addis Ababa 104, Atnatewos, Abuna 68
109, 115 Australia 82
Anywaa people 288, 292–3 Austria-Hungary 418
Aosta, duke of see Amedeo, duke authoritarianism 26–7, 85, 102,
of Aosta 211, 224, 250–1, 283, 294, 325,
Aqabe Sa’at (church dignitary) 67, 359, 365–6, 422–3, 427, 429,
161 434
Arab countries 32, 34, 95–8, 100, Awash River, Ethiopia 30, 33–4,
104, 106, 116, 204, 235, 245, 197
249, 352, 375, 386 Awassa, Ethiopia 41, 127, 155, 292
Ethiopian migration to 23, 33, Awate, Hamid Idris 244
52, 53, 54, 75, 105, 252 Aweliyya School and Mission 107,
Arab Spring 110, 328, 382, 417 113–18
Arab-Israeli War (1973) 204 Awi Zone, Ethiopia 21
Arabic language 51, 95, 100, 105, awliya 97
111, 240 Awngi people 20
Arada, Addis Ababa 407 Awsa Sultanate (Afar) 34, 35, 197
Arafa 103 Axum 19, 64, 67, 96, 108, 235,
Arat Kilo, Addis Ababa 407 263, 287, 305, 396, 422
arbeññyoch (‘patriot’ fighters) 193, Ayat Company 405
194 Aymellel people 39
Areba Deressa 376
Aregawi Berhe 271, 420 Back to Africa mission 153
ARENA (the Union of Tigreans for Badme 33, 267, 301–2
Democracy and Sovereignty) 323 bado (Afar territorial unit) 34
Argobba people 22 Baganda people 239
Ari people 44 Bahar Dar, Ethiopia 155, 212
Ark of the Covenant 1, 64 Bahta Hagos 238
Armenia 53, 189 Bahtawis 84–5
Arqbe Oqbay 407 Baidoa, Somalia 340
Arsi, Ethiopia 29, 40, 95, 106, 107, Baitos (Tigray village assemblies)
115, 171, 197 262
483
INDEX
Bakol, Somalia 340 Belgian Congo 239

Balcha Safo 186–7 Belgium 189
Bale, Ethiopia 29, 95, 101, 106, Bench people 44, 289
107, 115, 171, 287 Beni Amer people 235
1963–1970 Bale Revolt 101, 202, Benishangul People Liberation
203 Movement (BPLM) 50
Balkans 9 Benishangul-Gumuz Regional State,
Bangladesh 389 Ethiopia 50–1, 94, 186, 286,
banking 188, 359, 360, 367–8, 378, 290, 322, 338
380, 405 Berbera, Somaliland 36
Banna people 44 Bereket Habte Selassie 251
Bantu language 36–7 Bereket Simon 426
Baptist Christianity 125, 130, 154 Berhanenna Salam (newspaper) 71
Barbados 149, 150, 153 Berhanu Nega 320, 323, 324, 325
Barentu (Oromo) moiety 23, 28 Berkeley, California 212
Baro River 47 Berlin, Germany 212
barter exchange 179 Berlin Conference 236, 434
Baselyos, Abuna 73, 74, 75 Berlin Wall 10, 360
Bashada people 44
Berta people 50–1, 290
Bath, England 192
al-Beshir, Omar 435
battles
Beta Amhara, Ethiopia 19
Adwa (1896) 98, 149, 175, 176,
Beta Israel people 5, 21–2, 53
189
beta-kristian 64
Af Abet (1988) 227, 247, 250,
Betew Belay 427
271
Bevin-Sforza plan 241
Akkele Guzay (1876) 169
Beyen, Melaku E. 151
Ayshal (1853) 163, 164, 165

Beyene Petros 315, 321, 323, 324,

Dogali (1887) 174
Gallabat (1889) 69, 174 428
Gondar (1941) 194 Beylul Sultanate (Afar) 34
Gundet (1875) 169 Beza International Church 128
Keren (1941) 194 Bible 2, 7, 21, 78, 131, 144, 148–
Mai Chew (1936) 191 9, 152
Meqdela (1868) 165, 167 Judges 162
Sar Weha (1888) 174 King James Bible 148
Shire (1989) 247, 271–2 New Testament 65
Bauer, Otto 418 Numbers 152
Bay, Somalia 340 Old Testament 21, 65
Beduin people 252 Psalms 149
bee keeping 45 bid‘ah (heresy) 106
Begemdir, Ethiopia 162, 168, 193, Bilaltube 116
196 Bilin people 21
Beirut, Lebanon 112 birr 248–9, 378–9, 405, 425, 426
Beja people 235 Birtukan Mideksa 323
Belesa River 269 Biru Sultanate (Afar) 34
484
INDEX
Black Consciousness Movement Capital 316

346 Capuchin friars 184
Black Fox Operation 339 cardamom 43
Black Jews 149, 151 Caribbean 75, 147, 148, 149, 151–
Bloch, Marc 418 6, 186
‘block grants’ 291 Carter Center 315
Blue Nile 47, 50, 51, 339, 351, 352, Casa Incis Local Development Plan,
354, 369, 373–4 Addis Ababa 406–7
Blue Nile State, Sudan 339 Castro, Fidel 14, 418
Bodi people 44 Catholicism 6–7, 40–1, 68, 76, 123,
Boko Haram 118 184, 196
Bole International Airport 105 cattle 24, 29, 45, 174, 371
Bole Medhani Alem Cathedral, censuses
Addis Ababa 86 1984 94, 123
Bonapartism 280 1994 48, 83, 123, 292
Borana (Oromo) moiety 27, 28, 29 2007 16, 94, 132, 410
Bori, Eritrea 33 Central Bank 378, 379
Borkenna River 33 cereal 18, 29–30, 39, 358, 371,
Born Again Christianity 124, 129, 372, 387
137 Cessation of Hostilities Agreement
Boru Meda, Ethiopia 170 244
Bosaso, Somalia 252 Chad 190
Boundary Commission 279, 288, Chalcedonian Christianity 64, 76
301–2, 344 Chamber of Commerce 380
‘brain drain’ 54 Charismatic Christianity 125, 129,
bread 18 130, 131
Brezhnev, Leonid 222 Chile 155
BRICS 432 China 2, 10, 16, 129, 249, 293,
Britain see under United Kingdom 353, 379, 384, 386, 415, 421,
British Somaliland 101, 176, 178, 422, 431, 432, 433, 434
190, 194, 203, 221 Christian Lawyers Association 139
buda (‘evileye’) 21 Christianity 2, 5–6, 9, 11, 18, 21,
Building Block Approach (BBA) 24–5, 26, 29, 30–1, 31, 33,
341 39–43, 45, 63–88, 96, 97–8, 108,
Burji people 42 123, 125–6, 131, 133–5, 137,
Burundi 239, 250 142–3, 161–2, 168, 170, 172,
196, 234, 243, 244–5, 287, 417
cabbage-tree 42 Church Missionary Society 125
Cairo, Egypt 71, 72, 73, 74, 203, Church of Axum 67
244 City Hall, Addis Ababa 398
Cambodia 210, 224 civets 31, 43
camels 32, 33 civil rights 95, 116, 151, 432
Camp Lemonier, Djibouti 342 civil service 132, 138, 154, 215,
Canada 82 216, 240, 242, 276, 290, 291,
Cape Verde 209 299, 303, 307, 397, 432
485
INDEX
civil society 10, 115, 117, 144, 276, 128, 136, 188, 198–9, 217, 225,
306, 418, 422 275, 289, 322, 329, 402
clan spirits of the Kefa people construction sector 40, 359, 369,
(eqqo) 43 403, 404
Clapham, Christopher 9 Cooperative Framework Agreement
climate 18, 367, 372 (CFA) 352, 353
‘Closed Areas’ 126, 131 Coptic Christianity 6, 64–6, 68–9,
Coalition for Unity and Democracy 71–4, 78, 80, 83
(CUD) 295, 301, 303, 304, 314– Coptic Holy Synod 72, 73, 74, 80
25, 329, 428, 429–30 Coptic Patriarch of Alexandria 65
coffee 31, 39, 41, 43, 49–50, 52, corruption 140, 283, 285, 290,
299, 371, 377, 382, 388 326, 365–6, 383, 389, 432
Cold War 10, 198, 203, 221, 353, Corruption Perception Index 383
420, 435 cotton 52, 197
collectivization of land 10, 18, 77, Council of Chalcedon (451 AD) 64
154, 201, 202, 227–8, 359, 399 Council of People’s Representatives
colonialism 2, 8–10, 19, 20, 47, 274
98–101, 150–2, 159, 166, 170, Council of Representatives 295
175–7, 179, 189, 194, 209, 237– craft workers 21, 38
9, 243, 396, 433 Crispi, Francesco 237, 238
command economy 52, 102, 283, Cuba 222, 246
359, 360, 432 cuisine 18
Committee for Organizing the currency 248–9, 378–9, 405, 425–6
Party of the Workers of Ethiopia Cushitic languages 21, 24, 31, 38,
(COPWE) 222–3 39, 40, 41, 42
Committee of Elders 323, 324 Cyril V, Coptic patriarch 69, 71
communications 140, 177, 277, Cyril VI, Coptic patriarch 74
359, 360, 369, 373
Communism 2, 3, 10, 18, 26, 77, Dahlak Islands, Eritrea 236
124, 135, 210, 219, 223, 225, Dajana, Ethiopia 271
246, 249, 261, 359, 417, 418, Dankalia, Eritrea 234, 241
419, 425 Darod (Somali) clan 36, 340, 341
Complaints Investigation Panels Darwin, Charles 2
(CIP) 318 Dassanech people 28, 44
Comprehensive Peace Agreement Dawro people 43
(CPA) 244, 339, 435 Debre Libanos monastery, Ethiopia
‘concentration camps’ 224, 225 67, 192
condominiums 408 Debre Tabor, Ethiopia 165, 175
Confederation of Ethiopian Labour Debre Zeit, Ethiopia 129, 155
Unions (CELU) 215, 217, 219 decentralization 12, 284, 285–94,
Confederation of Ethiopian Trades 302, 399
Unions (CETU) 300 Declaration of Principles (DoP)
Congo, Democratic Republic of 339, 341
123, 338 decolonization 2, 9, 10, 151, 433
Constitution 12, 103, 107, 110, deforestation 50, 361
486
INDEX
Dejazmach 31, 68 Dobe people 36–7

Dekemhare, Ethiopia 227 Doing Business Ranking 380
democracy 10, 28, 43, 115, 228, Donors’ Ambassador Group 315
241–3, 262, 276, 294, 308–9, Dori of Yejju 161
313–30, 349, 350, 423–4, 427–31 Dover, England 147
Democratic Republic of Congo 123, dreadlocks 152
338 Duroyaume, Perrine 13
democratization 12, 284, 285 Dyer, Noel 147–8, 154
Deng Xiaoping 14, 431, 434
Department for International East Germany 227
Development (DFID) 388 Eastern Europe 9, 225
dere (Gamo territorial unit) 43 Economist, The 389
Derg era (1974–1987) 2, 6–10, 22, economy 13, 102, 140–1, 179, 197,
26, 37, 48, 52–3, 76–82, 85, 88, 200, 211, 277, 305, 327–8, 330,
102–3, 124, 127–9, 135–6, 138, 348–51, 357–91, 398, 402–3,
154–5, 205, 209–29, 246–50, 420, 425, 431–2
257, 259–60, 261, 264–73, 287– Ecumenical Patriarchate of
Constantinople 64, 76, 83
8, 292, 294, 295, 296, 329–30,
edirs (funeral associations) 398
335, 338, 359, 399–400, 424
education 16, 20, 45, 48, 54, 83–4,
Dessie, Ethiopia 118, 191
100, 104, 105, 111, 113–114,
Desta Damtew 192
155, 177, 179, 186, 196–7, 204,
Development and Social Service
212, 215, 240, 299–300, 308,
Commission 131
367, 370, 373
‘developmental capitalism’ (lema-
Egypt 12, 13, 21, 50, 65–6, 68, 71,
tawi habt) 306–9, 361 72, 73, 98, 147, 166, 190, 235,
developmental state 7, 45, 87, 133, 236–7, 252, 339, 344, 345, 348–
138–41, 258, 285–309, 329, 351, 9, 351–5, 374, 415, 434
357–91, 434 1821 occupation of Sudan begins
diaspora 53–5, 75, 82, 87, 105–6, 162, 236
116, 117, 129, 134, 142, 200–1, 1838 Ethiopian raid at Gallabat
219, 252–3, 295, 315, 319, 320, 163
367, 368, 406, 409, 422 1875 invasion of Ethiopia 68,
Didessa River, Ethiopia 30, 51 168–9, 434
dimsachen yisema (‘let our voice be 1875 Battle of Gundet 169
heard’) 116 1876 Battle of Akkele Guzay 169
Dinka people 47 1881 Mahdist uprising 236–7,
Dioskoros, Abuna 81 434
Dire Dawa, Ethiopia 41, 194, 212, 1883 arrival of Egyptian bishops
286, 289 in Ethiopia 68
‘divide and rule’ 100 1885 Mahdists take control of
Dizi people 44 Sudan 173
Djibouti 33, 34, 35, 36, 53, 176, 1924 Ras Tafari Makonnen
177, 186, 187, 190, 191, 221, (Haile Selassie) visits Cairo 71
234, 237, 238, 292, 342, 346–7, 1929 Ethiopian monks conse-
377, 397 crated bishops in Cairo 71
487
INDEX
1942 delegation visits Addis 2000 general election 290, 294,

Ababa 73 300, 313, 315
1943 Haile Selassie meets with 2001 local elections 300, 301
Franklin Roosevelt 195 2005 general election 15, 84,
1945 Coptic Holy Synod rejects 114, 258, 274, 295, 303–6,
proposal for Ethiopian election 313–22, 325, 327, 329, 367,
of bishops 73 428–31
1946 Yusab II elected Coptic 2008 local elections 305, 318,
patriarch 73 322–6, 327
1948 consecration of Ichege Ge- 2010 general election 295, 306,
bre Giyorgis as bishop 73 308, 318, 326–30, 367, 404
1950 death of Abuna Qerellos in Electoral Reform International
Cairo 73 Services (ERIS) 315, 318
1951 consecration of Abuna electricity 13, 305, 350, 359, 360,
Baselyos as archbishop of 369, 373–4, 386
Ethiopia 73 Elyas, Abuna 82
1952 Revolution 73 Encyclopedia Aethiopica 1, 17
1956 death of Yusab II 74 Endalkachew Makonnen 196, 204,
1959 Haile Selassie meets with 215, 216
Gamal Abdel Nasser in Cairo endogamy 22
74 Endowment Fund for the
1960 foundation of Eritrean Lib- Rehabilitation of Tigray
eration Front (ELF) in Cairo (EFFORT) 362, 381
244 England see under United Kingdom
1964 Organization of African English language 138, 150, 316
Unity summit in Cairo 203 enjera (pancakes) 18
1973 Arab-Israeli War 204 Ennarya, Ethiopia 31
1995 Islamic militants attempt to ensete (false banana tree) 38, 41
assassinate Hosni Mubarak in Entoto, Ethiopia 69, 171, 172, 396
Addis Ababa 109–10, 337–8 entrepreneurs 7, 40, 43, 129, 141,
1999 Nile Basin Initiative (NBI) 143, 365, 367, 382–4, 390
352 eqqo (Kefa clan spirits) 43
2002 Nile Conferences 352 Erasmus University (Netherlands)
2011 Revolution 355 365
2013 suspension from African Eritrea 10–11, 17, 18, 19, 20, 32,
Union 354 35, 69, 173, 176–7, 188, 194,
Egyptian Coptic Church 6, 64–6, 196, 197, 233–54, 263, 266–
68–9, 71–4, 78, 80, 83 70, 271, 277–80, 286, 299, 324,
Egyptian Metropolitan bishop 65 335–6, 338, 339, 343–6, 348,
Ejersa Goro, Ethiopia 156 350, 353, 420, 425, 426
elections 1517
1992 regional elections 274–5, Ottoman Turks take control of
295–6 Dahlak Islands 236
1994 general election 298 1555
1995 general election 298, 313, Ottoman Turks take control of
315 Massawa 198
488
INDEX
1885 151, 176, 202, 204, 214, 215,

Italy takes control of Massawa 221, 222, 226, 227, 244–50,
173 258, 259, 271
1890–1941 1962
Italian occupation 10, 20, 159, Ethiopian annexation 11, 20,
173, 176, 198, 237–40, 287 101, 198
1894 1963
Bahta Hagos leads revolt against demonstrations against abolition
Italians 238 of Federal Union with Ethiopia
1897 244
Ferdinando Martini replaces Leo- 1966
poldo Franchetti as Governor Christians begin joining ELF
of Eritrea 238 rebellion; many murdered by
1932 comrades 244–5
Italian military build-up begins 1967
190, 239 Haile Selassie makes month long
1937 visit 202
Eritreans attempt to assassinate 1968
Rodolfo Graziani in Addis
creation of Islah (reform) move-
Ababa 192
ment within ELF 245
1941
1971
Battle of Keren 194, 197
ELF Congress 245
1941–1952
1974
British administration 197, 198,
Ethiopian 2nd Division mutinies
240–42, 248
215
1949
Bevin-Sforza plan 241 General Aman Andom makes
1950 visit 216
rioting in Asmara 241 creation of Eritrean People’s
1952 Liberation Front (EPLF); siege
election 241–2 of Asmara 245
1952–62 1977
Federal Union with Ethiopia 11, EPLF launch major offensive 221
198, 206, 241–4 1978
1958 EPLF and Tigray People’s Libera-
foundation of Eritrean Liberation tion Front (TPLF) sign coop-
Movement (ELM) 244 eration pact 267
1960 Derg launch attacks against EPLF
foundation of Eritrean Liberation to regain territory; EPLF with-
Front (ELF) 244 draw to Sudan 222, 246
1961 1979
Hamid Idris Awate launches at- ELF goes to war with TPLF
tack against Ethiopian forces 268–9
244 1980
1961–1991 decline of ELF; internecine fight-
War of Independence 53, 79, ing 246
489
INDEX
1981 2006
ELF defeated 269 Abuna Antonios removed from
1982 office 81
Red Star Campaign 270 2007
1987 Abuna Dioskoros elected patri-
death of Osman Saleh Sabeh 246 arch 81
EPLF Congress 247 Eritrean Democratic Front (EDF)
1988 242
foundation of Jihad Eritrea 246 Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF)
Battle of Af Abet 227, 247, 250, 202, 204, 244–6, 263, 265, 266–
271 9, 419
1990 Islah (reform) movement 245
EPLF capture Massawa 247 Popular Liberation Forces (PLF)
1991 245
EPLF gain control of whole Er- Eritrean Liberation Movement
itrean province 227, 248 (ELM) 244
1993 Eritrean Military Secret Service 252
independence 11, 80, 233, 248, Eritrean People’s Liberation Front
335 (EPLF) 11, 20, 202, 222, 226–7,
autocephaly of the Eritrean 245–50, 263, 265, 266–72, 277–
Church approved 80 8, 287–8, 335
1998 Esat (TV station) 116
autocephaly of the Eritrean Eshetu Chole 290
Church completed 81, 87 Ethics and Anti Corruption
1998–2000 Commission 383
Ethio-Eritrean War 11, 20, 81, ‘Ethio-descendants’ 4
250–1, 253, 258, 274, 277–80, Ethio-Djiboutian railway 33, 177,
290–1, 299, 303, 339, 340, 397
343–6, 348, 367, 420, 426 Ethio-Eritrean Boundary
2000 Commission (EEBC) 279, 301–
Algiers Agreement 278, 301, 344 2, 344
2001 Ethio-Semitic language family 17,
Ethio-Eritrean Boundary Com- 22, 30, 38, 39
mission (EEBC) hold first Ethiopia
meeting 301 1314–1344
‘Black Tuesday’ 251 Amda Syon I era 236
2002 1517
EEBC publishes decision on Ottoman Turks take control of
delimitation 279, 301 Dahlak Islands 236
death of Abuna Filipos; Abuna 1529–1543
Ya’eqob elected patriarch 81 Abyssinian-Adal War 22, 24, 97
independent churches banned; 1555
members arrested 252 Ottoman Turks take control of
2003 Massawa 198
death of Abuna Ya’eqob; Abuna 1622
Antonios elected patriarch 81 Emperor Susenyos converts to
490
INDEX
Catholicism, civil war ensues Battle of Meqdela; suicide of

6–7 Tewodros II 165, 167, 227
1632–1769 Tekle Giyorgis II crowned King
Early Gondar period; Oromo of Kings 168
migrations 25, 43, 396 1869
1769–1855 Italy establishes control of Assab
Zemene Mesafint (Era of Lords/ 173
Princes) 25, 67, 160–4, 170, 1871
211, 236, 396, 422 Tekle Giyorgis II captured
1838 blinded and relegated to a
Dejazmatch Kenfu leads attack monastery 168
on Egyptians at Gallabat 163 1872–1889
1848 Yohannes IV era 8, 20, 68–9,
Kassa Hailu (Tewodros II) raised 168–74, 211, 236, 396
to rank of Dejazmatch 164 1872
1853 Yohannes IV crowned King of
Battle of Ayshal 163, 164, 165 Kings 168
1854 1875
Kassa Hailu (Tewodros II) meets Egyptian invasion 68, 168–9, 434
with Church officials 170 Battle of Gundet 169
1855–1868 1876
Tewodros II era 68, 125, 162–8, Battle of Akkele Guzay 169
169, 170, 171, 211, 396 death of Abuna Atnatewos 68
1855 1878
Tewodros II crowned King of Yohannes IV invades Shoa;
Kings 164, 177 Menelik submits 169
Tewodros II subdues Wollo; in- Yohannes IV convenes council on
vades Shoa and takes Menelik Church matters 68, 170
hostage 165 1882
1862 Leqa Naqamte incorporated into
Tewodros II writes to Queen Shoa 31
Victoria requesting British 1883
‘technical assistance’ 166 arrival of Egyptian bishops 68
1864 1884
Abuna Salama excommunicates clashes with Mahdist forces begin
Tewodros II 68 174
1865 1885
Menelik escapes custody and re- Yohannes IV allows British
turns to his kingdom in Shewa, troops fleeing Mahdists to
declares himself King of Kings evacuate through Ethiopia 173
167, 171 Italy establishes control of Mas-
1867 sawa 173
Britain sends expeditionary corps 1886
to Massawa 166–7 Menelik founds Addis Ababa
1868 171, 396
491
INDEX
1887 1898
Battle of Dogali 174 annexation of Sennar 50
Shoan armies seize Harar and 1900
Hararge 23, 171 Benito Sylvain represents Menelik
1888 II at Pan African Conference in
Battle of Sar Weha; Mahdists London 149
sack Gondar 174 negotiations with Italy to delimit
Yohannes IV invades Gojjam; boundary with Eritrea 176
rinderpest epidemic 174 1902
1888–1892 Abuna Matewos sent to Jerusa-
famine 174, 214 lem and St Petersburg 69
1889 negotiations with Britain to de-
death of Yohannes IV at Battle of limit boundary with Sudan 176
Gallabat 69, 174, 422 negotiations with Italy to delimit
Treaty of Wichale 175, 237–8 boundary with Eritrea 176
Francesco Crispi announces Ital- railway reaches Dire Dawa 177
ian intent to colonize Ethiopia 1904
237 establishment of Evangelical com-
munity in Wollega 125
1889–1913
1906
Menelik II era; Shoan hegemony
first public school opens 177
1, 8, 19, 20, 23, 31, 40–2, 44,
death of Ras Makonnen 183
50, 69–70, 98–9, 149, 174–8,
1907
210, 211, 237–8, 396, 433
establishment of ministries 177
1890
incapacitation of Menelik II; con-
Italian colonization of Eritrea
sort Taytu Betul vies for power
10, 20, 159, 173, 176, 198, 177–8, 184
237–40, 433 1908
1892 negotiations with Britain to de-
birth of Haile Selassie 184 limit boundary with Kenya 176
1894 negotiations with Italy to delimit
Shoan conquest of Welayta 42 boundary with Somalia and
1895 Eritrea 176
Italian invasion 175, 197, 238, 1909
433 Lij Iyasu named heir of Menelik
1896 II 99, 177
Battle of Adwa 98, 149, 175, 1910
176, 189, 238 Taytu Betul removed from power
1897 178
Britain and France recognize 1911
Ethiopian sovereignty; bound- Ras Abate attempts coup d’état
ary delimitation with Somalil- 178
and 176 1913
Shoan conquest of Kefa 44 death of Menelik II; Lij Iyasu
construction of first railway becomes uncrowned ruler of
begins in Djibouti 177 Ethiopia 69–70, 99, 178, 184
492
INDEX
1914 Ethiopian monks consecrated

Ras Mikael crowned Negus of bishops in Cairo 71
Wollo 70 1930–1974
1916 Haile Selassie era 71–7, 100–2,
Lij Iyasu reassigns Ras Tafari 125, 135, 152–4, 156, 187–
Makonnen (Haile Selassie) 206, 210–18, 228, 239–45,
from Harar to Kaffa 184 259, 287, 359, 398, 418, 420,
Lij Iyasu deposed; Ras Mikael 435
invades Shoa 69–70, 100, 178, 1930
184 rebellion by Gugsa Wolle de-
1917–1930 feated; death of Zewditu 187
Zewditu era 70–1, 100, 152, Haile Selassie crowned King of
184–7 Kings 71, 100, 152, 183, 185,
Zewditu crowned Empress of 187–8
Ethiopia 70, 100, 184–5 Arnold Josiah Ford arrives with
inauguration of Ethio-Djiboutian disciples 149–50
railway 177, 186 1931
1919 promulgation of first Constitu-
tion 188
delegation sent to United States
1934
152
Walwal incident 190
1921
1935
death of Abuna Petros 70
Italian invasion 2, 150, 190–1,
1923
197, 205, 216
Ethiopia admitted into League of
1936–1941
Nations 152, 185
Italian occupation 9, 72, 100,
1924 125, 135, 150, 192–4, 397,
Ras Tafari Makonnen (Haile 425
Selassie) visits Cairo 71 1936
Ras Tafari Makonnen (Haile Battle of Mai Chew 191
Selassie) tours Europe 185 death of Balcha Safo 187
1925 Haile Selassie exiled to United
Berhanenna Salam newspaper Kingdom; addresses League of
established 71 Nations in Geneva 191–2
1926 capture of Ras Imru by Italians
central administrative entity cre- 193
ated within Ethiopian Ortho- 1937
dox Church 74 attempt to assassinate Viceroy
1927 Rodolfo Graziani in Addis
death of Abuna Matewos 71 Ababa; bloody reprisals 192
1928 Abuna Abraham elected Metro-
Balcha Safo arrested after march- politan bishop; excommunicat-
ing on Addis Ababa 187 ed by Coptic Holy Synod 72
1929 Haile Selassie establishes Ethio-
Ras Tafari Makonnen (Haile pian World Federation in New
Selassie) crowned Negus 71 York 151
493
INDEX
1938 1948
Rodolfo Graziani replaced as consecration of Ichege Gebre
Viceroy by Amedeo, duke of Giyorgis as bishop 73
Aosta 192 theological college affiliated with
1940 Holy Trinity Cathedral 75
Haile Selassie flown to Khartoum Somali Youth Club movement
to help foster Ethiopian resis- crushed by authorities 101
tance 192 Haile Selassie grants Ethiopian
1941 World Federation five gashas
Battle of Keren 194 of land in Shashemene 151
Haile Selassie and Orde Wing- 1949
ate lead attack to re-conquer Bevin-Sforza plan 241
Ethiopia 72, 100, 194 1950
Battle of Gondar 194 death of Abuna Qerellos in Cairo
opening of Princess Zenebe Worq 73
School 150 1950–1953
1942 Korean War 195
interim Anglo-Ethiopian agree- 1951
ment signed 195 Haile Selassie I University estab-
Egyptian delegation visits Addis lished 197
Ababa 73 Abuna Baselyos consecrated arch-
decree introduces tax on Church bishop of Ethiopia 73
lands 74 opening of Free Finnish Foreign
1943 Mission 127
foundation of Holy Trinity Ca- 1952–1962
thedral in Addis Ababa 75, 76 Federal Union with Eritrea 11,
Somali Youth Club established 198, 206, 241–4
101 1954
Weyane rebellion 195, 287, 420 Haile Selassie expresses desire for
Haile Selassie meets with Frank- complete union with Eritrea
lin Roosevelt in Egypt 195 243
1944 1955
new Anglo-Ethiopian agreement promulgation of new Constitu-
signed 195 tion 198–9, 217
Haile Selassie issues ‘Regulations Ethiopian Church joins World
Governing the Activities of Council of Churches 76
Missions’ 76, 125–6, 131, 135 Ethiopian World Federation
John Robinson trains Ethiopian announces Shashemene land
air force cadets 150 grant 153
1945 Wolde-Giyorgis dismissed from
Coptic Holy Synod rejects pro- power 196, 199
posal for Ethiopian election of 1956
bishops 73 opening of Free Finnish Foreign
1947 Mission in Addis Ababa 127
Abdullah Muhammad Yusuf al- Swedish Pentecostal Mission or-
Harari al-Habashi exiled 111 ganizes Awasa Conference 127
494
INDEX
1957 1963–1964
promulgation of ‘five year plan’ Ogaden Revolt 29, 213–14, 287
197 1963–1970
1958 Bale Revolt 101, 202, 203, 287
foundation of Eritrean Liberation 1964
Movement (ELM) 244 Organization of African Unity
1959 summit in Cairo 203
Haile Selassie meets with Gamal 1965
Abdel Nasser in Cairo 74 Noel Dyer arrives in Addis Ababa
Abuna Baselyos appointed head 147
of Church of Ethiopia 74, 78 1966
Mekane Yesus Church estab- Christians begin joining ELF
lished 126 rebellion; many murdered by
1960 comrades 244–5
foundation of Eritrean Liberation Aklilu Habte-Wold accorded
Front (ELF) 244 power to appoint own minis-
opening of Philadelphia Church ters 200
Mission in Awasa 127 Addis Ababa students organize
coup d’état attempt 9, 151, 199,
Pentecostal prayer meetings
200, 216, 418
127
1961–1991
Haile Selassie makes state visit to
Eritrean War of Independence 53,
Jamaica 153
79, 151, 202, 204, 214, 215,
creation of Macha Tulama 202
221, 222, 226, 227, 244–50,
1967
258, 259, 271, 287
Haile Selassie makes month long
1961
Hamid Idris Awate launches at- visit to Eritrea 202
tack against Ethiopian forces in foundation of Ethiopian Full
Eritrea 244 Gospel Believers Church 127
Ethiopian Church invited to attack on Pentecostal Christians
pan-Orthodox conference in in Debre Zeit 129
Rhodes 76 1968
1962 creation of Islah (reform) move-
annexation of Eritrea 11, 20, ment within ELF 245
101, 198 first Rastafari migrants arrive
Meserete Kristos Church estab- 153
lished 126 foundation of Twelve Tribes of
1963 Israel 154
demonstrations against abolition revolt in Gojjam 197, 287
of Federal Union with Ethiopia 1971
244 Abuna Tewoflos appointed head
Kale Heywet Church established of Church of Ethiopia 75
126 ELF Congress 245
establishment of Organization of 1972
African Unity in Addis Ababa Abuna Tewoflos installs parish
203, 398 councils 75, 78, 85
495
INDEX
1973 264–73, 287–8, 292, 294, 295,

oil shock 204, 214–15 296, 329–30, 335, 338, 359,
Ethiopian Church establishes 399–400, 424
Sunday Schools department 83 1975
breaking of diplomatic relations collectivization reforms 10, 18,
with Israel over Arab-Israeli 77, 154, 227–8, 359
War 204 decree abolishes Church’s land
famine in northern regions 204, ownership 77
214 foundation of Tigray People’s
1974 Liberation Front (TPLF) 257,
military mutiny in Sidamo 215, 287
287 Abuna Tewoflos ordains bishops
demonstrations in Addis Ababa; without government approval
dismissal of Aklilu government 79
204, 214–18 death of Haile Selassie 217
Ethiopian 2nd Division mutinies in 1975–1978
Eritrea 215 Red Terror 53, 218–22, 264,
Haile Selassie accepts Ras Mikail 265, 297
Imru as Prime Minister 216 1976
TPLF release Manifesto 260
General Aman Andom makes
Muslim Council established 102
visit to Eritrea 216
Abuna Paulos arrested 79
Ethiopian Revolution 1–2, 9–10,
Abuna Tewoflos deposed; Abuna
26, 53, 76, 79, 93, 102, 135,
Takla Haymanot elected patri-
154, 205, 209–18, 246, 287,
arch 77
399
EPLF and Ethiopian Peoples
foundation of Oromo Liberation
Revolutionary Party (EPRP)
Front (OLF) 26 release joint statement 266
Aman Andom made Prime Min- Derg declare EPRP ‘enemies of
ister 217 the revolution’ 220
priests challenge policy of hierar- creation of Committee for Orga-
chical centralization in Church nizing the Party of the Workers
76 of Ethiopia (COPWE)
creation of Eritrean People’s 1977
Liberation Front (EPLF); siege TPLF go to war against Ethiopian
of Asmara 245 Democratic Union (EDU) 264,
Tefera Tekle Ab ‘disappeared’ 267
218 establishment of Ghennet Church
Aman Andom deposed; dies 127
resisting arrest 217 Teferi Bante and eight members
1974–1991 of Derg Standing Committee
Derg era; Civil War 2, 6–10, 22, shot dead at Imperial Palace
26, 37, 48, 52–3, 76–82, 85, 218
88, 102–3, 124, 127–9, 135–6, TPLF breaks off relations with
138, 154–5, 205, 209–29, Tigray Liberation Front (TLF)
246–50, 257, 259–60, 261, 265
496
INDEX
Atnafu Abate and Derg Standing 1984

Committee members massacred inauguration of Workers Party of
at meeting 218–19 Ethiopia (WPE) 223
massacre of students and school TPLF constructs supply line to
children by Derg 220 Sudan 270–1
EPLF launch major offensive 221 national census 94, 123
1977–1978 1984–1985
Ogaden (Ethio-Somali) War 102, Operation Moses transports
220–2, 245–6 Ethiopian Jews to Israel 5, 21,
1978 53
EPLF and TPLF sign cooperation 1985
pact 267 TPLF Congress 271
Derg launch attacks against EPLF foundation of Marxist-Leninist
to regain territory; EPLF with- League of Tigray (MLLT) 261,
draw to Sudan 222, 246 271
Abuna Mathias appointed arch- 1986
bishop in Jerusalem 88 Abuna Paulos appointed arch-
establishment of Heywet Birhan bishop in absentia 80
Church 127
eighteen lots of land granted to
Derg sign Treaty of Friendship
Rastafari in Shashemene 155
and Cooperation with Soviet
1987
Union 222
inauguration of the People’s
1979
Democratic Republic of Ethio-
Abuna Tekle Haymanot conse-
pia 10
crates thirteen new bishops 78
death of Osman Saleh Sabeh 246
execution of Abuna Tewoflos 6,
77 EPLF Congress 247
execution of Gudina Tumsa 135 1988
ELF goes to war with TPLF 268–9 foundation of Jihad Eritrea 246
1980 Battle of Af Abet 227, 247, 250,
decline of ELF; internecine fight- 271
ing 246 death of Abuna Takla Haymanot;
1981 Abuna Merkorios elected
ELF defeated 269 patriarch 79
1982 1989
Red Star Campaign 270 Battle of Shire 247, 271–2
1983 coup d’état attempt 227
Abuna Paulos flees to United foundation of Ethiopian People’s
States 79 Revolutionary Democratic
foundation of TPLF Organization Front (EPRDF) 11, 258, 260
of Vanguard Elements 261 TPLF and Derg hold peace nego-
TPLF launches Peoples Demo- tiations in Rome 273
cratic Program 262 1990
1983–1986 EPLF capture Massawa 247
famine and population transfer 2, TPLF and Derg hold peace nego-
3, 48, 223–4, 359, 364 tiations in Rome 273
497
INDEX
1991 autocephaly of the Eritrean

first EPRDF Congress 273 Church approved 80
EPLF gain control of whole Er- 1994
itrean province 227, 248 Constitution of Federal Demo-
Mengistu flees to Zimbabwe 227 cratic Republic ratified 12,
TPLF and Derg hold peace nego- 103, 128, 275, 289, 400
tiations in London 273 general election 298
EPRDF capture Addis Ababa 26, national census 48, 83, 123, 292
248, 250, 273 Greek patriarch visits Addis
Operation Solomon transports Ababa 83
Ethiopian Jews to Israel 22, 53 theological college in Addis
Transitional Government of Ababa reopened 85
Ethiopia (TGE) established 3, 1995
26, 37, 103, 114, 124, 155, 248, Federal Democratic Republic
257–8, 275, 284–5 (FDRE) established 285, 289
Abuna Merkorios arrested 6, 79 foundation of Endowment Fund
Awsa Sultan Alimirah returns for the Rehabilitation of Tigray
from exile 35 (EFFORT) 362
Muslim communities given general election 298, 313, 315
authorization to build new Meles Zenawi completes MBA
mosques 108 from Open University in United
1992 Kingdom 365
Boundary Commission estab- Majlis (Supreme Council for
lished 288 Islamic Affairs) reorganized;
Abuna Paulos elected patriarch violence at Anwar Mosque
79, 82, 88 104, 109
Rastafari organize celebration of Islamic militants attempt to assas-
Centenary of Haile Selassie 155 sinate Hosni Mubarak in Addis
regional elections 274–5, 295–6 Ababa 109–10, 337–8
1992–1993 increase of military assistance in
Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) Sudanese Civil War 338–9
insurrection 258, 274 1996
1993 OLF bombing campaign 299
land leasing system initiated 404 federal government dismisses and
Eritrean independence 11, 80, detains Ethiopian Teachers’ As-
233, 248, 335 sociation (ETA) members 300
Ogaden National Liberation Sodere Peace Process in Somalia
Front (ONLF) resume armed 340
struggle 293 1997
Abuna Paulos visits Ecumenical Black Fox Operation in Sudan
Patriarchate in Istanbul 83 339
Abuna Merkorios flees to Kenya federal advisers sent to ‘emergent
6, 81–2 states’ 290
Abuna Paulos attends funerals construction of Bole Medhani
of dignitaries assassinated by Alem Cathedral in Addis
Derg 80 Ababa 86
498
INDEX
Abuna Merkorios migrates to mission (EEBC) publishes deci-

United States; sets up ‘Legal sion on delimitation 279, 301
Holy Synod in Exile’ 82 devolution of powers to woredas
Fekade Selassie shot dead in St 291
Istifanos Church, Addis Ababa Nile Conferences 352
85 Sheko-Majengir insurrection
1998 291–2
autocephaly of the Eritrean 2002–2003
Church completed 81, 87 food shortages 364
OLF declare alliance with Eritrea 2003
299 All Ethiopia Unity Party begins
1998–2000 raising funds in United States
Ethio-Eritrean War 11, 20, 81, 315
250–1, 253, 258, 274, 277–80, foundation of Oromo National
290–1, 299, 303, 339, 340, 343, Congress (ONC) 321
343–6, 348, 367, 420, 426 Meles Zenawi issues Foreign
1999 Policy and Security Strategy 349
Nile Basin Initiative (NBI) 352 2004
federal government hold referen-
military intervention in Somalia
da to solve Somali and Oromo
340
disputes 292
2000
emergence of Coalition for De-
Algiers Agreement 278, 301, 344
mocracy Unity (CUD) 295
general election 290, 294, 300,
Meles Zenawi completes MSc
313, 315
from Erasmus University in
Meles Zenawi presents paper
Netherlands 365
to TPLF Central Committee 2005
denouncing Bonapartism 280 Sidama demand distinct kilil 292
Haile Selassie given imperial-style general election; civil unrest 15,
burial 80 84, 114, 258, 274, 295, 303–6,
2001 313–22, 325, 327, 329, 367,
local elections 300, 301 428–31
TPLF faction attempts to win Britain freezes aid payments to
support for move against Prime Ethiopia 322
Minister 302 2006
disturbances at Addis Ababa investigation into human rights
University; academics impris- abuses in Oromiya 314
oned 301 Britain suspends aid payments to
Ethio-Eritrean Boundary Com- Ethiopia 322
mission (EEBC) hold first EPRDF Congress 326
meeting 301 war against Union of Islamic
TPLF internal crisis; Meles Ze- Courts (UIC) in Somalia 110,
nawi consolidates power 258, 342
280–1, 302–4, 343, 426–8 2007
2002 celebration of new millennium
Ethio-Eritrean Boundary Com- 15, 305, 320
499
INDEX
national census 16, 94, 132, 410 2011

ONLF attack Chinese oil explo- construction of Grand Ethiopian
ration camp 293 Renaissance Dam (GERD)
Abuna Merkorios consecrates begins 305, 354
dissident bishops 82 Negasso Gidada replaces Birtu-
Berhanu Nega leaves for United kan Mideksa as chair UDJ 323
States 324 Majlis organizes regional work-
UEDP-Medhin changes name to shops to combat extremism
Ethiopian Democratic Party 110–1
(EDP) 325 Majlis withdraws licence from
2008 International Islamic Relief
Regulation on Civil Society Orga- Organization 114
nization 144 Haile Selassie I Memorial Foun-
local elections 305, 318, 322–6, dation organizes pilgrimage to
327 Ejersa Goro 156
foundation of Medrek 323 reform of real estate sector 405
Berhanu Nega sets up Ginbot 7 Hanfare Alimirah crowned Sultan
organization 324 of Awsa 35
opening of Somalia Facilitator 2012
Liaison Office in Addis Ababa pro-Aweliyya protests 114–15
342 Meles Zenawi condemns pro-
Birtukan Mideksa arrested 323 Aweliyya protesters 115
2009 ‘Legal Holy Synod in Exile’
Mahibere Kidusan threatened pledges solidarity with pro-
with excommunication from Aweliyya protesters 117
Church 84 African Union meeting; intensifi-
government announces foiling of cation of protests 117
Ginbot 7 coup d’état attempt death of Abuna Paulos 87
324 death of Meles Zenawi 3, 87,
Unity for Democracy and Justice 117, 390, 415, 436
(UDJ) joins forces with Medrek confirmation of Haile Mariam
323, 324 Dessalegn as Prime Minister
2010–2015 87, 118
Growth and Transformation Plan Majlis elections held; violence in
46, 141, 305, 307, 308 Wollo 118
2010 population reaches 91.2 million
general election 295, 306, 308, 4, 16
318, 326–30, 367, 404 2013
EPRDF Congress 327 pro-Aweliyya protests resume
All Ethiopia Unity Party (AEUP) 118
splits into two factions 324 assassination of Sheikh Nuru 118
federal government holds peace Abuna Mathias elected patriarch
talks with Ogaden nationalists 88
293 ‘Ethiopia First’ 216
Birtukan Mideksa pardoned 323 Ethiopian Democratic Officers
500
INDEX
Revolutionary Movement Ethiopianism 152

(EDORM) 273 L’Ethiopie contemporaine 3
Ethiopian Democratic Party (EDP) ethnic diversity 4–5, 12, 16–55, 333
294, 325 ‘ethnic federalism’ 286–309, 336
Ethiopian Democratic Union (EDU) ethno-nationalism 41, 101, 103,
221, 260, 263, 264, 265, 267, 287–9, 292, 295, 303, 308–9,
268, 269 420, 423–4
Ethiopian Ethics and Anti ethnocracy 283
Corruption Commission 383 eucalyptus 39
Ethiopian Full Gospel Believers Europe, migration to 26, 53, 54,
Church 127, 131, 135 75, 106, 112, 129, 200–1, 252
Ethiopian Herald 150 European Union (EU) 314, 315,
Ethiopian Holy Synod 78, 79, 88 316, 317, 319, 327, 341, 344,
Ethiopian Muslim Youth 368
Association 107 Evangelical Churches Fellowship of
Ethiopian National Defence Force Ethiopia (ECFE) 128, 129
(ENDF) 213–18, 273, 290, 293 Evangelical Student Association
Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo (EVASU) 132
Church 5, 30, 63–88, 125, 161–
Evangelicalism 3, 7, 83, 108, 123–
2, 168, 170
44
Ethiopian Pastors Conference 128,
Evans-Pritchard, Edward 47
129
‘evileye’ (buda) 21
Ethiopian People’s Patriotic Front
Exodus Apostolic Reformation
(EPPF) 295
Church 128
Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary
exorcism 84, 85, 128, 130
Democratic Front (EPRDF) 3, 6,
11–13, 26, 35, 49, 50, 82, 103, exports 43, 212, 248, 346–7, 350,
117, 124, 139, 140, 257–8, 260, 362–4, 371–7, 381–3, 388–9,
262, 271–6, 279–80, 283–309, 403
313–30, 333–55, 363, 365, 368, Eyesus Worq Zafu 380
381, 388, 400, 404, 420, 422,
426–32 Facebook 116
Ethiopian Peoples Revolutionary Falasha 21
Party (EPRP) 219–20, 225, 259– false banana tree (ensete) 38, 41
60, 263–9, 419 famines 386
Ethiopian Student Association 219 1888–1892 famine 214
Ethiopian Student Movement 1973 famine 204, 214
(ESM) 258–9, 261, 262 1983–1985 famine 2, 3, 48,
Ethiopian Teachers’ Association 223–4, 359, 364
(ETA) 299–300 fandano 40
Ethiopian Telecom Company 369 Fantini, Emanuele 7
Ethiopian United Democratic Party- Farmer Training Centre 370
Medhin (EUDP-Medhin) 319, farming 18
320–1, 324, 428, 430 Federal Constitution of Ethiopia 12,
Ethiopian World Federation (EWF) 103, 107, 110, 128, 136, 225,
151, 153 275, 289, 322, 329, 402
501
INDEX
Federal Democratic Republic of French Somaliland 176, 195, 203

Ethiopia (FDRE) 3, 26, 37, 103, Freud, Sigmund 2
114, 124, 155, 248, 257, 258, Frumentius, Saint 65
275, 285, 289, 303 Fuad, king of Egypt and Sudan 71
federalism 3, 12, 136–8141, 283– funeral associations (edirs) 398
309, 336 Funj Sultanate of Sennar 50, 236
Fekade Selassie 85
fertilizer 34, 317, 326, 363, 364, Gadaa (Oromo political system)
367, 370–2 27–9, 31, 41, 42
‘fertilizing blessings’ 45 ‘Galla’ 24
feudalism 10, 14, 205, 210–13, 359 Gambella People’s Liberation
Feyissa, Dereje 4 Movement (GPLM) 49
Ficquet, Éloi 4, 5, 6 Gambella Regional State, Ethiopia
Filipos, Abuna 80, 81 47–50, 94, 126, 223, 286, 290,
Finland 127 292–3, 322, 338
fishing 45 Gamo Goffa, Ethiopia 223
‘five year plan’ 197 Gamo people 43
Fletcher, Tomas Fortune 150 Garvey, Marcus 149–50, 151, 152
flower farming 403 gas 36, 376
Gash-Setit, Eritrea 234
‘Focoism’ 265
Ge’ez language 19, 64, 66, 131
food security 39, 43, 317, 358, 364,
gebbar tradition 398, 433
367, 368, 372, 387
Gebre Giyorgis 73
Forbes 381
Gebre Menfes Qiddus 71
forced labour camps 252
Gebremedhin of Entoto 84
Ford, Arnold Josiah 149–50
Gebru Asrat 323, 426, 427
Ford, Mignon 150
Gebru Tareke 225, 227, 420
foreign direct investment (FDI) 305, Gedeo people 28, 42
379–80, 389 Gedo, Somalia 340
foreign policy 333–55, 434–6 Geneva, Switzerland 191–2
Foreign Policy and Security Strategy geography 4, 16, 223, 333, 381
349 George V, king of the United
Fortune 316 Kingdom 187
Forum for Democratic Dialogue in Georgia 315, 316, 319
Ethiopia see Medrek Gera, Ethiopia 31
fossils 46 Germany 54, 99, 125, 176, 184,
France 1, 99, 147, 166, 172, 176, 190, 193, 212, 227, 253, 421
178, 184, 186, 187, 189, 190, Getachew Nadew 218
211, 212, 237, 238, 253, 421 Ghana 151, 434
Franchetti, Leopoldo 238 Ghennet Church 127
Franco-Ethiopian railway 190 Gibe III and IV dams 369
Free Finnish Foreign Mission 127 Gibe, Ethiopia 31, 97, 171
free market see market economy Giday Zeratsion 271
Frelimo (Frente de Libertação de Gifts of the Spirit 130, 135
Moçambique) 209 gimgema (evaluation system) 272,
French Revolution (1789) 417 427
502
INDEX
Gimira people 44 ‘guerrillas in power’ syndrome 250

Ginbot 7 organization 295, 323, Gugsa of Yejju 160–1
324 Gugsa Wolle of Gondar 187
Girma Biru 426 Guinea 209
Girma Wolde Giorgis 88 Guinea Bissau 250
Girma Wondimu 85 Gulf Arab states 54, 105
Global Financial Integrity 383 Gulf of Aden 32
globalization 7, 45, 132, 133, 140, Gulf of Tadjourah 33
229, 349 gult (taxed lands) 18
Goba’ad Sultanate (Afar) 34 Guma, Ethiopia 31
Gobana Dachi 26, 171 Gumuz people 50, 51
Gobaze of Lasta see Tekle Giyorgis Gurage peoples 17, 39–40, 94, 171,
II 172, 186, 201, 303, 320, 325
Gofa people 43 Guyana 150
Gojjam, Ethiopia 20, 31, 51, 68–9,
72, 162, 163, 165, 168, 174, al-Habashi, Abdullah Muhammad
188, 192, 193, 196, 197, 287 Yusuf al-Harari 111–12
gold 31, 50, 376, 381, 388 Habesha peoples 17–18, 19, 20, 21,
Golina River 33 22, 24, 27, 30, 36, 39, 42, 43,
51, 253, 421
Gomma, Ethiopia 31
Habta-Wald, Akala-Warq 186, 196
Gondar, Ethiopia 21, 25, 51, 68–9,
Habta-Wald, Aklilu 186, 196, 200,
79, 163, 165, 170, 175, 187,
203, 204, 215
188, 193, 194, 396
Habta-Wald, Makonnen 186, 196
Gorbachev, Mikhail 226, 247
Habte Maryam Werqeneh 75, 76
Gordon, Charles George 238
Habte-Giyorgis, Fitawrari 185
Gragn (the left-handed)(s. Ahmad
Hadareb people, subgroup of Beja
ibn Ibrahim al-Ghazi) 22, 97 235
Gramsci, Antonio 419 Hadiya people 40, 171, 295
Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam Hadiya Sultanate 29
(GERD) 13, 46–7, 51, 354, 369, Hagmann, Tobias 37
373–4, 386, 404 Haile Selassie I, emperor of Ethiopia
Graziani, Rodolfo 72, 192 1, 2, 7, 8–9, 11, 19, 23, 70–7,
Great Leap Forward 374 80, 100–2, 125–6, 131, 132,
‘Greater Tigray’ 241 135, 149, 151–4, 155, 156, 178–
Greece 53, 65, 76, 83, 148, 189 9, 183–206, 210, 211, 212, 214,
Greek Orthodox Church 64 228, 241, 245, 259, 287, 359,
‘Green Revolution’ 371 398, 415, 418, 420, 435
Gregorian calendar 15 1892 birth 184
Growth and Transformation Plan 1916 reassigned from Harar to
(2010–2015) 46, 141, 305, 307, Kaffa 184
308, 372–3, 374, 375, 376–91, 1924 visit to Cairo 71
403, 432, 434 1924 tour of Europe 185
Guadeloupe 149 1929 crowned Negus 71
Guba, Ethiopia 51 1930 defeats rebellion by Gugsa
Gudina Tumsa 135 Wolle 187
503
INDEX
1930 crowned King of Kings 71, 1974 deposed by Derg 102, 205,
100, 152, 178, 183 217, 287
1935 Italian invasion 190–1, 216 1975 death 217
1936 Battle of Mai Chew 191 1992 Rastafari organize celebra-
1936 exiled to United Kingdom; tion of Centenary 155
addresses League of Nations in 2000 given imperial-style burial
Geneva 191–2 80
1937 establishes Ethiopian World Haile Selassie I Memorial
Federation in New York 151 Foundation 156
1940 flown to Khartoum to fos- Haile Selassie I University, Addis
ter Ethiopian resistance 192 Ababa 197
1941 leads attack with Orde Hailu Shawel 319, 323, 324, 325,
Wingate to re-conquer Ethiopia 429–30
from Italians 72, 100, 194 Haile Selassie Gugsa 190
1942 signs interim Anglo-Ethio- Hailu Tekle Haymanot 185, 188,
pian agreement 195 192
1943 meets with Franklin Roos- Haiti 149, 153
evelt in Egypt 195 Halabi, Nizar 112
1944 signs new Anglo-Ethiopian Hamasien, Eritrea 159, 234
agreement 195 Hamer people 44
1944 issues ‘Regulations Govern- Hanfare Alimirah, sultan of Awsa
ing the Activities of Missions’ 35
76, 125–6, 131, 135 Harar, Ethiopia 22–3, 31, 70, 95,
1948 grants Ethiopian World 97, 100, 101, 107, 111, 127,
Federation five gashas of land 171, 183–4, 186, 194, 213, 286,
151 289
1954 expresses desire for com- Hararge, Ethiopia 23, 30, 97, 106
plete union with Eritrea 243 Harari people 22–3, 30
1955 promulgation of new Con- Hariri, Rafiq 112
stitution 198–9 Harlem, New York 149
1955 dismissal of Wolde-Giyorgis Hassan, Muhammad Abdille 98,
196, 199 178
1959 meets with Gamal Abdel Hassen Enjamo 40
Nasser in Cairo 74 Hatzair, Hachomer 418
1960 coup d’état attempt 9, 151, Haud, Ethiopia 36
199, 200 Hawiya people 341
1966 makes state visit to Jamaica Hayq monastery, Ethiopia 67
153 ‘headless’ power relations 39, 47
1967 makes month long visit to healing rituals 84–5, 128, 130
Eritrea 202 healthcare 197, 308, 328, 361, 367,
1974 dismisses Aklilu govern- 370
ment after demonstrations in Henry, duke of Gloucester 187
Addis Ababa 204, 215 Henze, Paul 162
1974 accepts Ras Mikail Imru as heresy in Islam (bid‘ah) 106
Prime Minister 216 hermit monks 84–5
504
INDEX
Heywet Birhan Church 127 ID cards 107

Hezbollah 112 iddir (solidarity associations) 411
hibretesebawinet (‘socialism’) 218, idolatry in Islam (shirk) 106
225 illegal migrants 33, 105
highlands 4, 11, 16, 17, 18, 20, 22, Illubabor, Ethiopia 95
33, 36, 45, 50, 51, 69, 126, 197, immigration to Ethiopia 53, 147–56
236, 243, 245, 292 Imperial Palace, Addis Ababa 218
hijab 95 imperialism 1, 8, 10, 48, 142, 170,
hijra (migration, the founding event 173, 237, 434
of Islam) 96, 112 Imru Haile Selassie 188, 191, 193
Historical Dictionary of Eritrea India 52, 129, 375, 379, 386, 388,
(Killion) 235 432
HIV (human immunodeficiency industry 211, 359, 363–5, 369,
virus) 16, 85 372, 377, 379, 381, 389–90, 403
Ho Chi Minh 14, 418 inflation 305, 327, 370, 378, 390
Hobsbawm, Eric 417 infrastructure 2, 5, 13, 45, 305,
Holeta Military Academy 213 367, 373, 390, 396, 397, 398,
Holy Spirit 130, 135 401, 425, 431
Holy Synod Institute for the Study of Ethiopian
Coptic 72, 73, 74, 80 Nationalities 287, 288
Ethiopian 78, 79, 88 insurance 359, 360
Holy Trinity Cathedral, Addis Integrated Housing Development
Ababa 75, 76, 86 Programme, Addis Ababa 407–8
holy water (tsebel) 85 Intergovernmental Authority on
hominid fossil sites 46 Development (IGAD) 338, 339,
Hor people 28 340, 341, 342, 346
horses 24 International Development
House of Federation 37 Association 384
House of Peoples Representatives International Financial Institutions
301, 313, 314, 329 (IFIs) 179, 225, 349, 358, 380,
Hoxha, Enver 270, 276 432
Human Development Index 358 International Food Policy Research
human rights 143, 252–3, 262, 314, Institute (IFPRI) 385
351, 427–8, 434 International Islamic Relief
Human Rights Watch 314 Organization 114
hunter-gatherers 38, 45 International Monetary Fund (IMF)
Hussein, Saddam 226, 247 179, 225, 358, 384, 385, 390,
HVA International 197 432
hydropower 13, 305, 350, 369, international relations 333–55,
373–4, 386 434–6
Internet 54, 84, 106, 116, 128, 373
Ichege (church dignitary) 67, 71, interreligious tensions 108–10
72, 73, 161 Iran 195
Id al-Adha 103 Iraq 204, 226, 247, 436
Id al-Fitr 103, 117 Ireland 233
505
INDEX
Irob people 33 1896 Battle of Adwa 98, 149,

irredentism 97, 221 175, 176, 189, 238
irrigation 13, 16, 32, 33, 45, 371–2 1897 Ferdinando Martini re-
Isaaq (Somali) clan 36 places Leopoldo Franchetti as
Islah (reform) movement 245 Governor of Eritrea 238
Islam 5, 6, 11, 19, 22, 23, 24, 26, 1900 negotiations with Ethio-
29, 30, 31, 32, 40, 43, 51, 69, pia to delimit boundary with
73, 78, 84, 93–119, 123, 124, Eritrea 176
132, 134, 142–3, 154, 160, 162, 1902 negotiations with Ethio-
168, 170, 178, 184, 186, 228, pia to delimit boundary with
234, 236, 242, 244–6, 258, 293, Eritrea 176
317, 337, 417, 435–6 1908 negotiations with Ethio-
Islamic Charitable Projects 111 pia to delimit boundary with
Islamic Courts Union 110, 293, Somalia and Eritrea 176
342, 435 1914–1918 World War I 99, 178
Islamism 13, 40, 104, 113, 117, 1924 Ras Tafari Makonnen
118, 142, 173, 228, 246, 258, (Haile Selassie) makes visit
293, 337, 338, 342, 350, 353, 185, 189
1932 military build-up in Eritrea
435–6
begins 190, 239
Isma’il Pasha, khedive of Egypt and
1934 Walwal incident 190
Sudan 68, 434
1935 invasion of Ethiopia 2, 150,
Israel 1, 5, 22, 24, 53, 204, 233,
177, 190–1, 197, 205, 216,
252, 375
434
Issa (Somali) clan 34
1936–1941 occupation of Ethio-
Issayas Afeworqi 247, 250–3, 279,
pia 9, 72, 100, 125, 135, 150,
324, 345, 425 192–4, 397, 425
Italy 2, 9, 54, 172, 185, 252, 375, 1936 Battle of Mai Chew 191
433, 434 1936 capture of Ras Imru 193
1869 establishment of control in 1937 attempt to assassinate Vice-
Assab 173 roy Rodolfo Graziani in Addis
1885 establishment of control in Ababa; bloody reprisals 192
Massawa 173 1938 Rodolfo Graziani replaced
1887 Battle of Dogali 174 by Amedeo, duke of Aosta 192
1889 Treaty of Wichale 175, 1940 entry into World War II
237–8 192, 193
1889 Francesco Crispi announces 1941 Battle of Keren 194
Italian intent to colonize Ethio- 1941 Haile Selassie and Orde
pia 237 Wingate lead attack to re-
1890 colonization of Eritrea conquer Ethiopia 72, 100, 194
10, 20, 159, 173, 176, 198, 1941 Battle of Gondar 194
237–40, 287, 433 1949 Bevin-Sforza plan 241
1894 Bahta Hagos leads revolt in 1989 TPLF and Derg hold peace
Eritrea 238 negotiations in Rome 273
1895 invasion of Ethiopia 175, 1990 TPLF and Derg hold peace
197, 238, 433 negotiations in Rome 273
506
INDEX
Itang, Ethiopia 47 kebeles (neighbourhood administra-

al-Ittihad al-Islamiyya 110, 337, tions) 117, 225, 301, 305, 307,
340 308, 326, 328, 370, 399, 400,
’Ityopia Tiqdem’ (Ethiopia First) 401, 407, 410
216 Kebessa region, Eritrea 234, 235,
ivory 31, 43 236, 241
Iyasu V, emperor-designate of kedo (Afar patrilineal clan) 34
Ethiopia 69–70, 99–100, 177– Kefa people 43–4
8, 184 ‘Kela’aye Weyane’ 420
Keller, Edmond 217
Jabarti 22 Kemant people 21
‘Jacobinism’ 211 Kenfu, Dejazmatch 163
Jam’iyyat al-Mashari’ al-Khayriyya Kenya 23, 36, 81–2, 123, 128, 151,
al-Islamiyya 111 172, 190, 194, 221, 240, 345
Jamaica 147, 149, 151–6, 186 Kenyatta, Jomo 151, 202
Jamaica sefer, Sheshemene city 155 Keren, Eritrea 21, 194
Japan 9, 155, 188 Kereyu, Ethiopia 197
Jehovah’s Witnesses 252 Kessem River 33
Jerusalem 66, 69, 88, 111 Kestedamena (Rainbow) 320, 321,
Jesuits 6–7 324
Jigjiga, Ethiopia 36 ketema (military garrison; city) 397
jihad 40, 97, 110, 115, 118, 340 Ketema Yifru 203
Jihad Eritrea 246 Khamir people 20
Jikaw, Ethiopia 48 Khamta people 21
Jimma, Ethiopia 24, 31, 95, 107, Khartoum, Sudan 147, 192, 238,
138, 186, 187, 188, 193 339
Johnson, Douglas 47 khat (mild stimulant) 30, 39, 41,
journalism 299, 300 317
Judaism 5, 21–2, 149 Khmer Rouge 210, 224
juma’a prayer 115 Khojali, sheikh of Benishangul 186
Kifu Qen (the Terrible Period) 174
Kaffa, Ethiopia 184, 289 kilils (National Regional States)
Kale Heywet Church 125, 126, 130 285, 286, 290–2, 295, 296, 307
Kambata people 40, 171, 295 Killion, Tom 235
kao (sacrificer-king) 43 Kinfe Gebre Medhin 426
Karmal, Babrak 221 King James Bible 148
Karo people 44 King of Kings 66–7
Karrayu people 30 Kingdom of Aksum 19, 96, 108,
Karuturi Global Ltd388 235
Kassa Hailu Darge 188, 192 Kingdom of Ennarya 31
Kassa Hailu see Tewodros II Kingdom of Kefa 43
Kassa Mercha see Yohannes IV Kingston, Jamaica 149, 151, 154
Kassala, Sudan 173 Kiros Alemayu 218
Kassu Ilala 425 Kistane people 39, 40
Kazza, Ethiopia 271 Koman language 49, 51
507
INDEX
Konso people 28, 42 Liberia 148

Korean War (1950–1953) 195 Libya 147, 239, 240, 241, 252
kosso (herbal medicine) 163, 164 Lidetu Ayelew 324–5
Kuma Demeksa 426 Light and Peace 71
Kurmuk-Geizan, Sudan 339 Limmu, Ethiopia 31
kwari (Anuak village head) 48 Lion of Judah 1
Kyrgyzstan 315, 316 Liqa Kahenat priests 69
Liqa Seltanat 75, 76
Lalibela, Ethiopia 396 literacy 26, 45
land 10, 18, 44, 49, 327 ‘loan sharks’ 381
collectivization 10, 18, 77, 154, London, England 147, 149, 202,
201, 202, 227–8, 359, 399 205, 273
leases 374–6, 387, 400, 404 Lorraine, France 176
privatization of 321, 362 Los Angeles, United States 54
‘land to the tiller’ 10, 201, 399 lowlands 4, 16, 19, 45, 47, 97, 101,
language in Ethiopia 126, 163, 171, 174, 223, 224,
Amharic 17, 19, 21, 22, 37, 124, 240, 242, 244, 245, 291
127, 137, 138, 155, 164, 238, Lucy (Australopithecus) 1
316, 321 Luqas, Abuna 68–9
Arabic 51, 95, 100, 105, 111, 240 Lutheran Christianity 125, 126,
Bantu 36–7 196
Cushitic languages 21, 24, 31, Luuq, Somalia 340
38, 39, 40, 41, 42
English 138, 150, 316 Maale people 44
Ethio-Semitic language family 17, Macha Tulama (Oromo)
22, 30, 38, 39 Association (cf. Mecha-Tulama
Ge’ez 19, 64, 66, 131 below) 202
Koman 49, 51 Machel, Samora 418
Nilo-Saharan language family 36, de MacMahon, Patrice 421
38, 49, 51 ‘Mad Mullah’ 98, 178
Omotic languages 38, 39, 42, 43 Madagascar 389
Oromiffa 24, 316 Maghreb 96
Tigrinya 17, 19, 33, 197, 234, Magna Carta 417
236, 240, 242, 287, 316 Mahbere Qiddusan movement 142
Lasta, Ethiopia 21, 162, 167 al-Mahdi, Mohamed Ahmed 236
League of Nations 152, 185, 190, Mahdist Sudan 69, 98, 173–4, 236–
191–2 7, 238, 434
Lebanon 54, 111, 112, 189 Mahibere Kidusan (Association in
Lefort, René 13, 212 the Name of the Saints) 83–4
‘Legal Holy Synod in Exile’ 82, 117 maize 47
lematawi habt (developmental capi- Majang people 49–50
talism) 306–9, 361 Maji, Ethiopia 289
Lenin, Vladimir Illyich 261, 418 Majlis (Supreme Council for Islamic
Leqa clan 30 Affairs) 104, 110, 113–18
liberalization 12, 284, 285, 294, makalay aylet class, Tigray 249,
298, 306–9, 362, 409 250
508
INDEX
Makonnen Wolde Mikael, shum of Mei’son 219, 221, 225, 419

Harar 23, 50, 183 Meiji Constitution (1889), Japan
Makonnen Zawde 76–7 9, 188
‘Manufacturing in Africa: An Mekane Yesus Church 31, 125,
Awakening Giant’ 389 126, 130, 131, 132, 135, 138
Mao Zedong 10, 14, 269, 418, 434 Mekelle, Ethiopia 169, 280
Maoism 259, 360, 374, 431 Meles Zenawi 2, 3, 12, 14, 87, 103,
Maqdala, Ethiopia (mountain) 155, 115, 117, 205, 258, 271, 274,
165, 167 279–81, 295, 305, 306, 314, 329,
Maria Theresa thaler coins 179, 348, 350, 351, 360, 364, 365–
188 6, 372, 377–8, 382, 385, 390,
Mark, Saint 68, 74 415–36
market economy 87, 140–1, 277, Melke Tsadeq, Abuna 82
306, 349, 350, 359–66, 383–6, Menelik Hospital, Addis Ababa 186
391, 434 Menelik II, emperor of Ethiopia 1,
Marley, Bob 155–6 8, 19, 23, 31, 40, 41, 42, 44, 68,
Marqos, Abuna 68–9 69–70, 98–9, 149, 165, 167, 168,
Marshall, Ruth 133 169, 171–9, 205, 210, 211, 238,
Martini, Ferdinando 238 396, 415, 433
Marx, Karl 2, 224, 269, 417, 418 Menen of Wollo 165
Marxism-Leninism 3, 10, 11, 103, Mengesha Seyoum 202
200–1, 209, 215, 222, 225, 226, mengist (power) 223, 243, 421
245, 247, 249, 258, 259, 261, Mengistu Haile Mariam 10, 79,
269, 279, 283, 308, 360, 417, 103, 154, 205, 218, 221, 222,
418, 419, 423, 425, 431, 434 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 320,
Marxist-Leninist League of Tigray 400, 415, 420, 424, 425, 434,
(MLLT) 261, 262, 271 435
Marye of Yejju 161 Mennonite Christianity 125
Masqal Square, Addis Ababa 316 Merara Gudina 315, 321, 323, 324
Massawa, Eritrea 166, 167, 173–5, Mercato, Addis Ababa 40, 405
187, 198, 236, 237, 247 Mereb River 169
Matewos, Abuna 68–70, 71 Merera Gudina 428
Mathias, Abuna 88 Merkorios, Abuna 6, 79, 81–2
Mattson, Anna-Liisa and Sanfrid Meserete Kristos Church 126, 131
127 Mesfin Wolde Mariam 320
Mawlid 103, 106, 116 Mesfin Woldemariam 323, 324
Mbeki, Thabo 15 Metekel, Ethiopia 51
Me’en people 44 Metemma, Ethiopia 51
Mecca, Arabia 22, 96, 100, 104, Metropolitan bishop of Ethiopia
105 66, 68–9, 70, 71, 72, 73, 162,
Mecha people 30 170
Mecha-Tulama association 26 middle class 84, 128, 213, 296,
Medhane Alem School 150 309, 405, 409
Medhane Tadesse 11, 13 Middle East, migration to 23, 33,
Medrek 295, 302, 323–4, 328 52, 53, 54, 75, 105, 252
509
INDEX
MIDROC (Mohammed Moffa, Claudio 217

International Development Mogadishu, Somalia 37, 194,
Research and Organization 341–2
Companies) 307, 381 monks 84–5, 96, 192
migrant workers 40, 52, 105 Monophysitism 64
migration 5, 21–2, 25, 33, 43, Montserrat 151
51–5, 75, 82, 87, 96, 105–6, 116, moringa ‘cabbage tree’ 42
117, 129, 134, 142, 200–1, 219, Morocco 147
252–3, 295, 315, 319, 320, 367, Moroda Kumsa 30–1
368, 406, 409, 422 mosques 100, 104, 108, 110, 113,
to Europe 26, 53, 54, 75, 106, 114, 115, 117, 118, 178
112, 129, 200–1, 252 Mozambique 209, 250, 389
to Middle East 23, 33, 52, 53, MPLA (Movimento Popular de
54, 75, 105, 252 Libertação de Angola) 209
to North America 23, 26, 53, 54, Mubarak, Hosni 109–10, 337–8
75, 82, 106, 112, 129, 134, Mugabe, Robert 434
142, 200–1, 219, 252, 315, Muhammad, prophet of Islam 96,
320 97, 99, 106, 112, 116
Mikael Imru 204, 216, 217
Multidimensional Poverty Index
Mikael, negus of Wollo 69, 70
358
military 150, 195–6, 213–18
Mulu Wengel (Ethiopian Full
Military Academy, Harar 213
Gospel Believers Church) 127,
military garrisons (ketema) 397
131, 135
Mille River 33
Mulugeta Yeggazu 191
millenarianism 138
Mursi people 44
Millennium Dam see Grand
Ethiopian Renaissance Dam Muse Seme 325
Millennium Development Goals Muslim Council 102
(MDGs) 15, 284, 308, 328 Muslim League (ML) 242
mining 359, 376 ‘Muslim Solution Finding
Ministry of Federal Affairs 110, Committee’ 117
139 Mussolini, Benito 190, 193, 239,
Ministry of Information 150 287, 425
Ministry of Justice 129 mustard gas 191
Ministry of Land Reform 199
Ministry of Works and Urban Naath people 47
Development 405 nagaa (peace in Oromo) 28
Minjo clan 44 nakfa (Eritrean currency) 249, 426
missionaries 75–6, 124, 125–7, Naqamte, Ethiopia 30
134, 141 Nasser, Ahmed 246
Mitchell Cotts 197 Nasser, Gamal Abdel 73–4
‘model farmers’ 366–7 Nathanael, Abuna 88
modernity 8, 9, 14, 32, 63–4, 87, nation/state-building 8, 25, 53, 98,
97, 131–3, 172, 177, 179, 185, 189
188, 196, 199, 212, 239, 243, National Bank of Ethiopia 368
397, 404 National Electoral Board of
510
INDEX
Ethiopia (NEBE) 313–15, 317– Nkrumah, Kwame 151, 434

18, 323 noble lineages of the Anuak (nyiye)
National Islamic Front (NIF) 51, 48
337, 353 nomads 25, 30, 32, 235
‘national question’ 10, 201, 261–2, North America, migration to 23,
273, 308, 418, 419, 421 26, 53, 54, 75, 82, 106, 112,
National Regional States (kilils) 129, 134, 142, 200–1, 219, 252,
285, 286, 290–2, 295, 296, 307 315, 320
National Salvation Council 340 North Korea 223, 253
nationalism 179, 225, 234–5, 245, Norwegian Church Aid 131
259–62, 266, 276, 280, 287, 290, Nubia 96
293–5, 304, 305, 320, 420, 425 Nuer people 47–8, 49, 292–3
Nazarene vow 152 Nur bin Mujahid, emir of Harar 23
Nazareth Ethiopia 127 Nuru Yemam 118
Nebura’ed (church dignitary) 67 Nyangatom people 28, 44
Negasso Gidada 323, 328, 427 Nyerere, Julius 434
neighbourhood administrations nyiye (Anuak noble lineages) 48
(kebeles) 117, 225, 301, 305,
307, 308, 326, 328, 370, 399, Obock, Djibouti 237, 238
400, 401, 407, 410 odaa (sycamore fig) 28
neoliberalism 3, 139–40, 141, 309, Ogaden, Ethiopia 29, 36, 190, 220–
360, 385, 390, 432 2, 264, 287, 293
Netherlands 197, 365 1963–1964 Ogaden Revolt 29,
New Partnership for Africa’s 213–14, 287
Development (NEPAD) 350, 351 1977–1978 Ogaden (Ethio-Soma-
New Testament 65 li) War 102, 220–2, 245–6
New York, United States 54, 149, 1993 Ogaden National Lib-
150, 151 eration Front (ONLF) resume
New Zealand 155 armed struggle 293
Neway, Germame and Mengistu 2007 ONLF attack Chinese oil
199, 418 exploration camp 293
newspapers 75, 84, 105, 150, 151 2010 Ethiopian government
NGOs (non-governmental organi- holds peace talks with Ogaden
zations) 48, 114, 126, 131, 299, nationalists 293
304, 337 Ogaden National Liberation Front
Niger 358 (ONLF) 36, 293, 295, 324
Nigeria 4, 118, 123, 133 oil 36, 350, 376
Nile Basin Initiative (NBI) 352, 354 oil seeds 377, 387
Nile River 12, 13, 46, 47, 105, 190, Old Testament 21, 65
305, 358, 351, 352–4 Ometo peoples 42–3
Nilo-Saharan language family 36, Omo River 46, 369
38, 49, 51 Omotic languages 38, 39, 42, 43
Nilotic peoples 36, 46–50 ‘Open Areas’ 126, 131
al-Nimeiry, Jaafar 226 ‘Open Letter to All the Members of
Nin, Andrés 418 the PFDJ’ 251
511
INDEX
Open University (United Kingdom) Palestine 233

365 Pan-African Conference
Operation Moses 21 1900 London 149
Operation Solomon 22 1945 Manchester 151
Organization of African Unity Pan-Africanism 7, 148–52, 155–
(OAU) 101, 156, 203, 221, 233, 7, 346
341, 398, 418 Pan-Arabism 101
Organization of Vanguard Elements Pan-Ethiopianism 259–61, 266,
261 290, 294–5, 301, 420
Oromiffa language 24, 316 pancakes (enjera) 18
Oromiya, Ethiopia 26–7, 41, 94, Pankow, East Germany 227
95, 107, 108, 126, 137–8, 193, Paris, France 147, 212
274, 286, 296, 297, 314, 403, pastoralism 24, 25, 27, 29, 30,
409 31–2, 33, 36, 284, 290, 292, 297
Oromo Federal Democratic patrilineal clans (kedo) 34
Movement (OFDM) 303, 317, ‘patriot’ fighters (arbeññyoch) 193,
323, 429 194
Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) 26, Paulos, Abuna 79–80, 82, 83, 86–8
49, 50, 135–6, 221, 258, 274, peace (nagaa in Oromo) 28
287–8, 423 ‘peace and stability committees’ 296
Oromo National Congress (ONC) Peasant Associations 225, 359
295, 303, 315, 321, 428 peasant class 2, 11, 48, 77, 151,
Oromo National Liberation Front 154, 172, 186, 191, 193, 197,
(OLF) 295, 297, 299, 324, 423–4 201, 211–13, 217–19, 223–6,
Oromo people 22, 23–9, 30–2, 41, 259–63, 265, 268–9 272, 274,
42, 95, 97, 101, 106–7, 108, 165, 294, 303, 326, 335–6, 358–9,
171, 172, 173, 196, 202, 221, 361–7, 372, 431, 433
297, 423 Pentecostalism 6–7, 43, 83, 85,
Oromo People’s Democratic 124–44, 252
Organization (OPDO) 26, 273, People’s Front for Democracy and
297 Justice (PFDJ) 251–3
Oromo Peoples Congress 323–4 Peoples Democratic Program 262
Orthodox Christianity 5–7, 9, perestroika 227, 420
24–5, 30–1, 33, 39–43, 63–88, Persia 235
108, 123, 125–6, 131, 133–5, pesticides 34, 364
137, 142–3, 161–2, 168, 170, Petros, Abuna 68–9, 70, 72
172, 196, 287 Philadelphia Church Mission 127
Østebø, Terje 137 phosphates 376
Ottoman Empire 99, 178, 184, 198, Piazza, Addis Ababa 40
236 pilgrimages 24, 51, 52, 66, 100,
104, 105, 106
PAIGC (Partido Africano da Piper, Helen and James 151, 153–4
Independência da Guiné e Cabo Pliocene/Pleistocene geological for-
Verde) 209 mations 46
Palermo, Sicily 237 ploughs 18
512
INDEX
political history 7–8 Qerellos VI, Abuna 71, 72, 73

Political Office for Mass Quara, Ethiopia 175
Organization Affairs (POMOA) Queen of Sheba 1
220 Qur’an 108
‘poor productivity trap’ 383–5
Popular Liberation Forces (PLF) racism 20, 22, 147–8, 149, 153,
245 166
population increase 4, 16, 434 radicalization 106–7, 109–19, 228
Portugal 97, 209 radio 75, 84, 112, 131, 150
poverty 8, 13, 39, 43, 46, 50, 131, Radio Voice of the Gospel 131
320, 321, 348–9, 358, 362–3, Rahayta Sultanate (Afar) 34
367, 370, 372–3, 379, 386–8, railways 13, 33, 177, 186, 191,
395, 401–2, 404 194, 397
Power of the Trinity 187 Rainbow 320, 321, 324
Prester John 1 Ramadan 117
priestkings 65 Ramstrand, Karl and Ruth 127
Princess Zenebe Worq School 150 Ras Tafari Makonnen see Haile
Princeton University 80 Selassie
privatization; private sector 321, Rastafarianism 1, 7, 147–57, 186
350, 361, 362, 364–6, 369, 374, real estate 389, 400–1, 404–11
379–86, 390, 403 Real Estate Developers (REDs)
Productive Safety Net Programme 405–6
368 Red Sea 10, 19, 25, 31, 33, 96, 105,
‘Programme of Unity and Solidarity’ 173, 234, 236, 237
116 Red Star Campaign 270
prophecies 84, 128, 130, 148–50 Red Terror (1975–1978) 53, 218–
Prosperity Gospel 141 22, 264, 265, 297
prostitution 215 Refugee Act of 1980 (United States)
Protection of Basic Services 368 53
Protestant Work Ethic 133 reggae music 1, 155
Protestantism 6–7, 24, 26, 31, regional challenges 12–13
40–1, 45, 76, 83, 86, 87, 108, Regulation on Civil Society
123, 124, 125, 126, 129, 132 Organization 144
Provisional Military Administrative ‘Regulations Governing the
Council (PMAC) 216, 217, 218 Activities of Missions’ 76, 125–6,
Prunier, Gérard 9, 10, 14 131, 135
Psalms 149 Relief and Development Association
Public Forum 314 131
Puntland, Somalia 340, 341 Relief Society of Tigray (REST) 362
Putin, Vladimir 14 religion in Ethiopia 5–8
Anglican Christianity 125
Qaallu (Oromo priests) 28, 29 atheism 78, 103
Qadiriyya 97 Baptist Christianity 125, 154
al-Qaeda 110, 115, 237, 251, 340 Born Again Christianity 124,
qamis (Islamic male dress) 95 129, 137
513
INDEX
Catholicism 6–7, 40–1, 68, 76, ‘rental city’ 409–10

123, 184, 196 Rental Housing Agency 399
Charismatic Christianity 125, Reporter 316
129, 130, 131 Republic of Somaliland 341
Christianity 5–6, 9, 11, 18, 21, revolution, interpretation of 209,
24–5, 26, 29, 30–1, 31, 33, 416–17, 423
39–43, 45, 63–88, 96, 97–8, 108, Revolutionary Democracy 15, 115,
123, 125–6, 131, 133–5, 137, 261–2, 276, 326, 360, 362
142–3, 161–2, 168, 170, 172, Rheer Barre people 36–7
196, 234, 243, 244–5, 287, 417 Rhodes, Greece 76
Evangelicalism 3, 7, 83, 108, Rhodesia 240
123–44 Rift Valley 29, 41, 42, 171, 397
Islam 5, 6, 11, 19, 22, 23, 24, 26, rinderpest 174
29, 30, 31, 32, 40, 43, 51, 69, rist (inheritable land right) 18, 44
73, 78, 84, 93–119, 123, 124, roads 13, 32, 45, 192, 304, 305,
132, 134, 142–3 367, 373
Islam 154, 160, 162, 168, 170, 178, Robinson, John 150
184, 186, 228, 234, 236, 242, Rome, Italy 273
Roosevelt, Franklin Delano 195
244–6, 258, 293, 317, 337, 417,
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 417
435–6
royal bed 164
Jehovah’s Witnesses 252
Rubenson, Sven 433
Judaism 5, 21–2, 149
Russia 1, 69, 200, 210, 213, 418,
Lutheran Christianity 125, 126,
421
196
Rwanda 239, 250, 338
Mennonite Christianity 125
Orthodox Christianity 5–7, 9,
Sabeh, Osman Saleh 246
24–5, 30–1, 33, 39–43, 63–88, sacrificer king of the Gamo people
108, 123, 125–6, 131, 133–5, (kao) 43
137, 142–3, 161–2 Sahara Desert 252
Orthodox Christianity 168, 170, Sahel Mountains 234, 246, 269
172, 196, 287 Sahle-Selassie, negus of Shoa 183
Pentecostalism 6–7, 43, 83, 85, Saho people 33
124–44, 252 Salafi Islam 29, 100, 106–7, 110,
Protestantism 6–7, 24, 26, 31, 111, 113, 115, 116
40–1, 45, 76, 83, 86, 87, 108, Salama, Abuna 68
123, 124, 125, 126, 129, 132 ‘salami revolution’ 205
Rastafarianism 1, 7, 147–57, 186 Samora Yunus 426
syncretic cults 40–1 Sana’a Forum 345
Waaqeffanna 24 Sankara, Thomas 434
‘renaissance’ (tensay) 404 Saray, Eritrea 234
‘renewal’ 280, 302, 364–5 Sassanid Persians 235
Renner, Karl 418 Saudi Arabia 54, 100, 105, 106,
renovation programmes 406–7 111, 113, 114, 381, 387–8, 405
rent seeking 283, 285, 326, 365– Saudi Kingdom Agricultural
6, 383 Development Fund 388
514
INDEX
‘Scramble for Africa’ 237 Shoa, Ethiopia 20, 23, 25, 26, 30,
Scriptures 131, 137 31, 33, 42, 68–9, 70, 94, 107,
Sebhat Nega 426 164–5, 167, 169, 171–2, 174,
Sectorial Association 380 177, 184, 193, 206, 214, 248,
secularism 103, 106, 109, 113, 116, 272, 418
119, 138–44, 179 Shoan era 1, 8, 19, 20, 23, 31,
seeds 363, 364, 370–1 40–2, 44, 50, 69–70, 98–9, 149,
‘self-determination’ 51, 259, 261– 174–9, 184, 396
2, 268, 270, 284, 285, 308, 321, Siad Barre, Mohamed 220, 245
336 Sidama National Liberation Front
Semera, Ethiopia 35 (SLM) 295
Semien, Ethiopia 162, 165 Sidama people 40, 41, 288, 292
Senegal 239 Sidama, Ethiopia 40, 187, 215,
Senhit Mountains 234 287, 292
Sennar Sultanate 50, 236 Silte clan 39–40, 94, 107, 171, 290,
September 11 attacks 110, 251, 291
340, 344 SIM Youth Centre 132
Serae, Eritrea 159 Sinai Peninsula 252
Sisay Habte 218
service sector 368–9, 389
Siye Abraham 323
sex, sexuality 84, 136
skyscrapers 13, 386, 404
Seye Abraha 426
slave trade 31, 43, 50, 52–3, 148,
Seyoum Mengesha 185, 188, 192
152, 153, 156, 185
Seyoum Mesfin 426
Slavic Orthodox Church 64
al-Shabaab 110, 118, 342
small and micro enterprises (SMEs)
Shadhiliyya 97
373
Shafi’i school 112 Smith, Adam 432
‘Shanqila’ 51 smoking 136
shantytowns 13, 395, 401–2, 404 SMS messages 116
shari’a (Islamic law) 102, 107 Sobat River 47
Shashemene, Ethiopia 7, 151, 153– social media 54, 116
6, 212 social mobility 140, 410–11
shaykh al-fitna 111 ‘social safety nets’ 410–11
sheikhs 96, 111–12, 118 socialism 78, 210, 218, 220, 223,
Sheka, Ethiopia 289 224, 247, 306, 431
Shekacho people 43, 291 Soldiers, Martyrs, Traitors and
Sheko-Majengir movement 291–2 Exiles’ 253
Shenouda III, Coptic patriarch 78, solidarity associations (iddir) 411
80, 81 Solomon 1, 2, 99
Sheraton Hotel, Addis Ababa 406 Solomon, Qes 78
Shia Islam 112 Solomonic dynasty 19, 67, 160,
Shiferaw Bekele 8 164, 168
shifta (political bandits) 229, 244 Somali Abo Liberation Front
Shinile Zone 36 (SALF) 221
Shire, Ethiopia 247, 263, 271–2 Somali Democratic Alliance Forces
shirk (idolatry in Islam) 106 323
515
INDEX
Somali National Front (SNF) 340 Somalia Facilitator Liaison Office,

Somali Patriotic Movement (SPM) Addis Ababa 342
340 Somaliland 36, 98, 101, 176, 178,
Somali people 13, 23, 31, 36–7, 190, 194, 341
101, 102, 111, 171, 173, 195, British 101, 176, 178, 190, 194,
288, 290, 292 203, 221
Darod 36, 340, 341 French 176, 195, 203
Hawiya 341 sorghum 47
Isaaq 36 South Africa 15, 53, 128, 155, 156,
Issa 34 194, 213, 239, 250, 253, 286
Somali Regional State, Ethiopia South Omo Zone, Ethiopia 44
36–7, 94, 274, 286, 293, 322 South Sudan 13, 45, 46, 47, 48,
Somali Republic 202, 203, 221 250, 339, 435
Somali Salvation Democratic Front South Yemen 222, 246
(SSDF) 340 Southern Ethiopian People’s
Somali Youth Club 101 Democratic Coalition (SEPDC)
Somalia 13, 26, 30, 34, 36, 101, 295, 303, 321, 324, 428
110, 111, 118, 176–7, 190, 191, Southern Nations, Nationalities,
194, 202–4, 220–1, 228, 239,
and Peoples Regional State
240, 252, 286, 293, 337, 339,
(SNNPR) 37–46, 94, 107, 126,
340–2, 346, 353, 422, 435
137, 286, 289, 291, 292, 295,
1960 foundation of Somali Re-
297, 314, 325, 326
public 202, 203
Soviet Union 2, 10, 200, 201, 202,
1969 coup d’état; alliance with
209, 210, 221–3, 225, 226, 227,
Soviet Union 245
245–6, 247, 253, 270, 294, 359,
1963–1964 Ogaden Revolt in
Ethiopia 29, 213–14 418, 420
1977–1978 Ogaden (Ethio-Soma- Sovkhozes (state-owned farms) 359
li) War 102, 220–1, 245–6 Spain 147
1993 Ogaden National Lib- speaking in tongues 128, 130
eration Front (ONLF) resume Spencer, John 195
armed struggle in Ethiopia 293 spiced stews 18
1993 Operation Restore Hope ‘spirit’ movements 128
435 St Istifanos Church, Addis Ababa
1996 Sodere Peace Process 340 85
1999 Ethiopian military interven- St Petersburg, Russia 69
tion 340 St Vladimir Orthodox Theological
2006 Ethiopia launches war Seminary, United States 79
against Union of Islamic Courts Stalin, Joseph 202, 210, 253, 262,
(UIC) 110, 342, 435 263, 269, 417, 418
2007 ONLF attack Chinese oil state-owned enterprises 46, 307,
exploration camp in Ethiopia 377, 380, 382, 390
293 Steen, William 150
2008 opening of Somalia Facilita- Stiglitz, Joseph 432
tor Liaison Office in Addis strikes 204, 214–18
Ababa 342 Sudan 13, 21–2, 23, 26, 30, 43,
516
INDEX
46, 48, 50, 51, 53, 69, 94, 98, Sudan Peoples’ Liberation
109, 147, 162, 163, 173–4, 190, Movement (SPLM) 338
194, 204, 226–7, 228, 234, 235– Sudanese National Islamic Front
7, 241, 246, 250, 252, 270, 272, (NIF) 51
290, 292, 337–9, 344, 345, 350, Suez Canal 10
352–3, 374, 435 Sufi Islam 23, 97, 106, 111, 112,
1821 Egyptian occupation begins 113, 116
162, 236 sugar 46, 52, 197, 371, 377
1838 raid at Gallabat 163 Sunday Schools department 83
1881 Mahdist uprising 236–7, Sunni Islam 111
434 Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs
1884 Mahdist clashes with Ethio- 104, 110, 113–18
pia begin 174 Suri people 44
1885 Major-General Gordon Surma people 44
defeated at Siege of Khartoum Survival of Ethiopian Independence,
238 The (Rubenson) 433
1885 Mahdiyya state established Susenyos 6
173 sweatshops 389
1888 Battle of Sar Weha; Mah- Sweden 54, 125, 127, 155, 189
dists sack Gondar 174 Swedish Pentecostal Mission 127
1889 Battle of Gallabat 69, 174 Switzerland 189, 191–2
1902 negotiations to delimit sycamore fig (odaa) 28
boundary with Ethiopia 176 Sylvain, Benito 149
1940 Haile Selassie flown to syncretic cults 40–1
Khartoum to foster Ethiopian Syria 111, 112, 204
resistance 192
1958 foundation of Eritrean Lib- tabot 64, 66
eration Movement (ELM) 244 Tadjourah Sultanate 34
1965 Noel Dyer arrested and Taezaz, Lorenzo 191
imprisoned in Khartoum 147 Tafari Makonnen School 186
1989 coup d’état 353 Tafari Makonnen see Haile Selassie
1995 Sudanese-backed militants Tagorri Sultanate 34
attempt to assassinate Hosni Takele Welde-Hawariyat 193
Mubarak 109–10, 337–8 takfir (Islamic anathema) 111
1995 Ethiopia steps up military Takfir wal Hijra 107
assistance in Sudanese Civil Takla Haymanot, Abuna 77
War 338–9 Takla Haymanot, negus of Gojjam
1997 Black Fox Operation 339 68
1999 Nile Basin Initiative (NBI) Talbot, David A. 150

352 Tamrat Layne 425

2011 South Sudanese indepen- Tana River 23
dence 13, 46, 339, 435 tantalum 376
Sudan Interior Mission 125 Tanzania 224, 225
Sudan People’s Liberation Army Tatek political training centre 297
(SPLA) 48, 292, 338–9, 435 tawhid (oneness of Allah) 106
517
INDEX
taxation 18, 28, 29, 52, 74, 96, theological colleges 75, 85, 142
107, 211, 226, 378, 382, 389, Third-Worldism 101
390 Tibet 1
taxis 204, 215 Tigray, Ethiopia 23, 33, 34, 42,
Taytu Betul, empress consort of 68, 69, 79, 80, 88, 94, 162, 167,
Ethiopia 178 169, 175, 187, 188, 190, 192,
Teachers’ Association (ETA) 299– 195, 202, 214, 221, 223, 236,
300 241, 248, 249, 257–81, 286–8,
Tedla Bairu 242 296–7, 302, 308, 322, 326, 425
Tefera Tekle Ab 218 Tigray Liberation Front (TLF) 265,
Teferi Bante 218 268
Tehadso (renewal) 280, 302, 364–5 Tigray Nation Progressive Union
Tehran Conference (1943) 195 (TNPU) 259
Tekeste, Abraham 390 Tigray Nationalist Organization
Tekezze River 271 (TNO) 259
Tekle Giyorgis II, emperor of Tigray people 17, 19–20, 22, 36,
Ethiopia 167, 168, 169, 171 68, 137, 196, 197, 257–81, 287,
Tekle-Hawariyat Tekle-Maryam 362, 365, 419–20, 422, 424
188 Tigray People’s Liberation Front
Teklehaimanot, negus of Gojjam (TPLF) 11, 20, 103, 195, 221,
174 226, 247–50, 257–81, 287, 302,
telecommunications 140, 177, 277, 303, 333–6, 339, 343, 349, 343,
369, 373 359, 360, 362–4, 381, 419–20,
television 106, 128, 131, 316 422–3, 426–8
Tembien, Ethiopia 271 Tigray University Students Union
Temporary Security Zone (TSZ) (TUSU) 259
244 Tigrinya language 17, 19, 33, 197,
Ten Points Programme 218 234, 236, 240, 242, 287, 316
tensay (renaissance) 404 Tijaniyya 97
territorial units (bado) 34 Timbaro people 40
terrorism 13, 110, 115, 118, 244, tobacco 47
251, 293, 299, 306, 324, 340, Tona, king of Welayta 42
342, 344, 350 Toposa people 28
Teru Sultanate 34 Toronto, United States 54
Tewahedo Church 5, 30, 63–88, Total Poverty Head Count 373
125, 161–2, 168, 170 Totil, Ibrahim 247
Tewodros II, emperor of Ethiopia tourism 14, 46, 155–6, 369
8, 67–8, 98, 125, 162–8, 169, trade unions 226, 240, 299
170, 171, 177, 191, 205, 211, Transitional Government of
227, 396 Ethiopia (TGE) 273–4, 283, 288–
Tewoflos, Abuna 6, 75, 76, 77, 79, 9, 293, 295–8, 424
80 Transparency International 383
Tewolde Wolde Mariam 426, 427 Treaty of Wichale (1889) 175,
Theological College of the Holy 237–8
Trinity, Addis Ababa 79 Trinidad and Tobago 149, 153
518
INDEX
Tsadkan Gebre Kidan 426 1885 Mahdiyya state established

Tsamai people 44 in Sudan; British troops evacu-
tsebel (holy water) 85 ate through Ethiopia 173
tsebhi (spiced stew) 18 1897 recognition of Ethiopian
Tulama people 30 sovereignty; boundary delimi-
Tunisia 147 tation with Somaliland 176
Turco-Egyptians 50, 173, 236–7 1900 Pan African Conference in
Turkana people 28 London 149
Turkey 54, 99, 178, 184, 198, 236, 1902 negotiations with Ethio-
379, 386 pia to delimit boundary with
Tutsi people 239 Sudan 176
Twelve Tribes of Israel 154 1914–1918 World War I 99, 178,
Twitter 116 184
1924 Ras Tafari Makonnen
Uganda 123, 239, 250, 338 (Haile Selassie) makes visit 185
Ukraine 315, 316, 319 1930 Prince Henry, duke of
ulama 97 Gloucester attends coronation
Umberto I, king of Italy 237 of Haile Selassie 187
unemployment 320, 327, 373, 388 1934 Walwal incident 190
Unic 7000 Church 128 1935 Jomo Kenyatta protests
Union of Islamic Courts (UIC) 110, against Italian invasion of
293, 342, 435 Ethiopia in London 202
Unionist Party (UP) 241, 242 1936 arrival of exiled Haile
United Arab Emirates 105 Selassie 191
United Ethiopian Democratic Forces 1940 Haile Selassie flown to
(UEDF) 315, 316, 317, 320, 321, Khartoum to foster Ethiopian
322, 323, 428, 429 resistance 192
United Ethiopian Democratic Party- 1941 Battle of Keren 194
Medhin (UEDP-Medhin) 319, 1941 Haile Selassie and Orde
320–1, 324, 428, 430 Wingate lead attack to re-
United Kingdom 54, 99, 100, 101, conquer Ethiopia 72, 100, 194
147, 148, 149, 152, 155, 159, 1941 Battle of Gondar 194
166–7, 173, 176, 178, 184, 188, 1941–1952 British administration
189, 190, 191, 194–5, 237, 211, of Eritrea 197, 198, 240–42,
240–42, 315, 318, 368, 375, 388, 248
433 1942 interim Anglo-Ethiopian
1862 Tewodros II writes to agreement signed 195
Queen Victoria requesting 1943 British aircraft help crush
‘technical assistance’ 166 Weyane rebellion 195
1867 expeditionary corps arrive 1944 new Anglo-Ethiopian agree-
in Massawa 166–7 ment signed 195
1868 Battle of Meqdela 165, 167 1945 Pan African Conference in
1885 Major-General Gordon Manchester 151
defeated at Siege of Khartoum 1949 Bevin-Sforza plan 241
238 1952 Eritrean election 241–2
519
INDEX
1964 Noel Dyer leaves England Vaughan, Sarah 16

for Ethiopia 147 Vichy France 253
1991 TPLF and Derg hold peace Victoria, queen of the United
negotiations in London 273 Kingdom 166
1995 Meles Zenawi completes Vietnam 384
MBA from Open University Vietnam War (1955–1975) 203
365 village assemblies 262
2005 freezing of aid payments to village heads (kwari) 48
Ethiopia 322 villageization 224–5, 388
2006 suspension of aid payments violence 229
to Ethiopia 322 Vision 2035 development plan 347
United Nations (UN) 179, 195, Vitalien, Joseph 149
198, 241, 342, 344, 345, 358, Voice of Ethiopia, The 151
380, 401, 410
United Somali Congress-Somali Waaqeffanna 24
National Alliance (USC-SNA) Wag Himra, Ethiopia 21
340 waka (Konso ancestors and wooden
United States 23, 53–4, 75, 79, 82, statues) 42
88, 110, 117, 128–9, 134, 142, Wako Gutu 202, 203
Wallagga, Ethiopia 30
149–52, 189, 194–6, 198, 203,
Walwal, Ethiopia 190
212–13, 219, 221–2, 223, 226,
‘war on terror’ 342, 344, 346
240, 245, 247, 251, 315, 320,
Washington DC, United States 54,
323, 341–4, 349, 350, 352–4,
88, 117, 321
360, 368, 375, 432, 435–6
water resources 12–13, 33–4, 46,
United States Agency for
97, 190, 224, 292, 308, 339,
International Development
348, 350, 351–5, 367, 369, 373
(USAID) 388 We-ga-go-da language 42
Unity for Democracy and Justice Weber, Max 133
(UDJ) 295, 304, 323, 328 Weed Farm, The (Lidetu Ayelew)
‘unity in diversity’ 55 325
‘Universal Ethiopian Anthem, The’ Welane clan 39–40, 290, 291
149–50 Welqait, Ethiopia 270
Universal Negro Improvement Were Sheh rulers (Yejju dynasty)
Association (UNIA) 149–50 160, 162, 165
University College of Addis Ababa Western Somali Liberation Front
196 (WSLF) 220
untaxed lands 18 Westphalian system 334, 336
urban development 3 wet (spiced stew) 18
Urban Dwellers Associations 399 Weyane 20
urban renewal 13, 406–7 weyane fighters 250
urbanization 52, 193, 371, 373, Weyane rebellion (1943) 195, 287,
395–411 420
White Nile 47, 50
Vance, Cyrus 222 ‘White Terror’ 220
‘vanguard leadership’ 285, 307, 360 Wichale, Ethiopia 175, 237–8
520
INDEX
Wikipedia 17 Yabus, Sudan 339

Williams, Henry Sylvester 149 Yearem Ersha (Lidetu Ayelew) 325
Wingate, Orde 2, 194 Yejju dynasty 160–5
Wolayta, Ethiopia 41, 42, 77, 171 ‘yellow card’ 54
Wolde Ab Wolde Maryam 247 Yemane Gebre Ab 252
Wolde-Giyorgis Walda-Yohannes Yemen 21, 30, 36, 53, 116, 222,
186, 196, 199 246, 252, 345
Wolete Israel Seyoum 188 Yeshaq, Abuna 82
Wollega, Ethiopia 51, 125, 126, Yimam of Yejju 161
137, 196 Yirgalem, Ethiopia 186
Wollo, Ethiopia 19, 22, 31, 33, Yohannes IV, emperor of Ethiopia
69, 70, 72, 94, 97, 99, 107, 118, 8, 20, 68–9, 98, 167, 168–74,
160, 162, 164–5, 168, 170, 196, 175, 188, 202, 205, 211, 236,
204, 214, 223, 325 237, 396, 422, 424
Women’s Leagues 326 Yohannes of Tigray 76
woreda districts 284, 286, 288, Yohannes XIX, Coptic patriarch 71
290–1, 295–6, 301, 303, 307, Yohannes, Abuna 72
326, 328 Yom Kippur War (1973) 204
Workers Party of Ethiopia (WPE) You-Go City Church 128
223, 297, 329–30 Youth Leagues 326
World Association of Muslim YouTube 116
Youth 107 Yugoslavia 286
World Bank 179, 225, 358, 368, Yusab II, Coptic patriarch 73
379, 380, 388, 432
World Council of Churches 76 Zemene Mesafint (Era of Lords/
World Heritage List 46 Princes) 25, 67, 160, 170, 211,
World Vision 131 236, 396, 422, 434
World War I (1914–1918) 99, 178, ‘Zemene Shoa’ 20
184, 251 Zena Marqos Abuna 82
World War II (1939–1945) 192, Zewditu, empress of Ethiopia 70,
193, 194, 211, 421 100, 178, 184–5, 187
Zimbabwe 227
Ya’eqob, Abuna 81 Zionism 418
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UNDERSTANDING CONTEMPORARY ETHIOPIA

HURST & COMPANY, LONDON

41 Great Russell Street, London, WC1B 3PL

About the Contributors ix

Introduction Gérard Prunier and Éloi Ficquet 1

9. The Eritrean Question Gérard Prunier 233

Free Market René Lefort 357

Gérard Prunier, PhD, is a renowned historian of contemporary Africa

Éloi Ficquet, PhD, is an anthropologist and historian, working on reli-

Stéphane Ancel, PhD, is a historian, who specialises in the evolution of

Shiferaw Bekele is a professor in history at Addis Ababa University. His

(Codesria 2001). He was the Executive Secretary of the Academy of

cal sociology of state formation in Africa and water resources manage-

AACG Addis Ababa City Government

EFFORT Endowment Fund for the Rehabilitation of Tigray

OFDM Oromo Federalist Democratic Movement

At b a r Simen Lasta Yejju Dewwey

A rotation of 45° is applied to the

the country into two parts, corres-

ponds to the fold of the book. This Ak ob o r.

Bahir Dar A FAR

Distribution of Population by Regions in 1994 and 2007

Source: Central Statistical Authority, Population and Housing Census, 2007.

Population of the major Ethiopian cities (over 100,000 inhabitants) :

Orthodox Tewahedo Christians

Source: Central Statistical Authority, Population and Housing Census, 2007.

43.5 Orthodox 33.9 Muslims 18.6 Protestants 2.6 Trad.

* Catholics: Country total: 0,8% - SNNPR: 2,4% - Gambela: 3,4%

over 50% of the population

over 50% of the population

Addis Ababa Qulubi

Gérard Prunier and Éloi Ficquet

Ethiopia is a land which, like Israel or Tibet, is often thought of first

has a date been so significant in the history of a people and of a nation.

Scope of the book

Synopsis of the chapters

weighed, however, by the capacity of human groups to adapt to risks

Religions. Besides linguistic and cultural differentiations, religions are

Orthodox Christianity. For centuries the Christian Orthodox Tewahedo

organizational changes in the clergy and the Church’s complete sub-

Islam. In Chapter 3 Éloi Ficquet considers the case of Ethiopian

Protestant and Pentecostal movements. Besides the encounters and

Rastafari. In Chapter 5 Giulia Bonacci explores the Rastafari cult.

Tewodros, Yohannes, Menelik. In Chapter 6 Shiferaw Bekele provides

dal-like society based on power relations between provincial ruling

The Revolution and the Derg. In Chapter 8 on the 1974 Revo­lution

Eritrea. In Chapter 9 Prunier discusses Eritrea, which formed a special

Eritreans from the Ethiopian empire. Haile Selassie claimed the

The Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). In the wake of the

EPRDF, the TPLF executives have provided the ideological direction

Federalism and revolutionary democracy since 1991. The third and

some of the dynamics and constraints of the three processes of decen-

Elections. The admission of Ethiopia into the league of democratic

Regional challenges. Ethiopia’s ethnic question, its lack of access to the

Chapter 13 Medhane Tadesse describes the military and diplomatic

9. The Eritrean Question Gérard Prunier 233

The Revolution and the Derg. In Chapter 8 on the 1974 Revolution