Travel Warning
U.S. DEPARTMENT OF STATE
Bureau of Consular Affairs.
Eritrea

November 29, 2012

The U.S. Department of State continues to warn U.S. citizens of the risks of travel to Eritrea and strongly recommends U.S. citizens defer all travel to the country.  This replaces the Travel Warning for Eritrea of April 18, 2012, to update information on security incidents, including attacks near the border with Ethiopia, and to remind U.S. citizens of ongoing security concerns in Eritrea.

The Eritrean government continues to restrict the travel of all foreign nationals.  These restrictions require all visitors and residents, including U.S. diplomats, to apply 10 days in advance for permission to travel outside Asmara's city limits.  Permission is rarely granted.  As a result, the U.S. Embassy is extremely limited in its ability to provide emergency consular assistance outside of Asmara.

A number of Eritrean-U.S. dual citizens have been arrested and some are currently being held without apparent cause.  Once arrested, detainees may be held for extended periods without being told the reason for their incarceration.  Conditions are harsh – those incarcerated may be held in very small quarters without access to restrooms, bedding, food, or clean water.  The Eritrean government does not inform the U.S. Embassy when U.S. citizens, including those who are not dual nationals, have been arrested or detained.  Should the U.S. Embassy learn of the arrest of a U.S. citizen, the Eritrean government rarely allows consular access, regardless of the reason the U.S. citizen is being held.


U.S. citizens are cautioned to carry appropriate documentation with them at all times.  Those not carrying documentation of their identity and military status may be subject to round-ups, sometimes by armed persons.  U.S. citizens are advised to exercise caution around armed persons.

The Eritrean government-controlled media frequently broadcasts anti-U.S. rhetoric, and has done so repeatedly since December 2009, when the United Nations Security Council (UNSC) first imposed sanctions on Eritrea.  Anti-U.S. messages scripted by the current regime, which often appear as cover stories in the sole English-language state-run newspaper in Eritrea, have grown even stronger since UNSC sanctions were strengthened in December 2011.

Although there have been no specific incidents of violence targeting U.S. citizens, U.S. citizens are urged to exercise caution, stay current with media coverage of local events, and be aware of their surroundings at all times.

U.S. citizens are strongly advised to avoid travel near the Eritrean-Ethiopian border and the Southern Red Sea region.  U.S. citizens should be aware of the presence of large numbers of Eritrean and Ethiopian troops along the Eritrean-Ethiopian border and of political and military tensions between the two countries.  On March 15, 2012, Ethiopian troops attacked three locations approximately 10 miles inside Eritrean territory.  On January 16, 2012, a group of tourists was attacked in Ethiopia not far from the Eritrean-Ethiopian border.  Five tourists were killed and four others kidnapped.  In May 2010, 13 people were injured when a bomb exploded on a bus just over the border in Ethiopia.  In April 2010, a bomb near the border in Ethiopia killed five people and injured 20.  In January and February 2010, skirmishes between Eritrean and Ethiopian troops resulted in military fatalities.

Although Eritrean forces have withdrawn from disputed territory at the border with Djibouti, tensions in this area remain high.

U.S. citizens on ships and sailing vessels are strongly advised not to sail off the Eritrean coast nor to attempt to dock in Eritrean ports or travel through Eritrean waters.  U.S. citizens are also urged to avoid remote Eritrean islands, some of which may be used for Eritrean military training and could therefore be unsafe.  The Eritrean government does not issue visas to persons arriving by marine vessel.  Additionally, fuel and provisions are often unavailable in Massawa and other parts of Eritrea, and are often scarce in the capital city of Asmara.

In April 2012, the Yemeni government reported that three Yemeni sailors continue to be held in Eritrean prisons three years after their boat inadvertently sailed into Eritrean waters.  Yemen also reported at the end of March 2012 that Eritrean boats had attacked four Yemeni fishing boats in international waters.  In February 2012, a U.S. company reported that two of its vessels were seized by Eritrean authorities in the Port of Massawa, where they had sought assistance after one vessel was distressed while off the Eritrean coast.  To date, neither vessels nor crew have been released.   In December 2010, a British ship attempting to refuel in Massawa was detained by Eritrean authorities, and its crew of four was held without consular access for six months before being released.  There are reports of additional vessels carrying nationals from other countries being detained for several months.  In nearly all cases, the Eritrean government has neither given a reason for detention nor granted consular access.  The port of Assab is closed to private marine vessels.

In August 2011, three separate incidents of piracy were reported off the Eritrean coast near the port of Assab.  High-speed skiffs with armed persons on board continue to attack merchant vessels.  If transit around the Horn of Africa is necessary, vessels should travel in convoys, maintain good communications contact at all times, and follow the guidance provided by the Maritime Security Center – Horn of Africa (MSC-HOA).  U.S. citizens should consult the Maritime Administration's  Horn of Africa Piracy page  for information on maritime advisories, self-protection measures, and naval forces in the region.

Landmines and unexploded ordnance remain a serious problem throughout the country.  There are reports of accidents and incidents in which vehicles or people occasionally detonate mines.  Many detonations occurred on relatively well-traveled roads in and near the Gash Barka region of western Eritrea; subsequent investigations indicated that several mines were recently laid.  In September 2011, press reported that a vehicle in Senafe, 60 miles south of Asmara, ran over a landmine; five people were killed and another 34 injured in the incident.  Vast areas of the country still have not been certified free of mines and unexploded ordnance following the 30-year war for independence and the subsequent 1998-2000 conflict with Ethiopia.  You should avoid walking alone and hiking in riverbeds or areas that local government officials have not certified as safe.

U.S. citizens choosing to travel to Eritrea despite this Travel Warning must obtain an Eritrean visa before their arrival.  Persons arriving in Eritrea without a visa are generally refused admission and returned on the next flight back to their point of origin.  However, the Embassy is aware of persons being jailed for several months after arriving without a visa.  The Embassy urges Eritrean-U.S. dual citizens to obtain an Eritrean visa in their U.S. passport before travelling to Eritrea and to enter the country as U.S. citizens.  Eritrean-U.S. dual citizens who enter Eritrea with an Eritrean ID card may find it difficult to obtain the required visa to legally exit the country.  The Embassy is aware of numerous cases where dual Eritrean-U.S. citizens have not been permitted to leave the country.  The Embassy cautions travelers not to stay beyond the period of time granted at the time of admission by Eritrean Immigration.

Crime in Asmara has increased as a result of deteriorating economic conditions accompanied by persistent food, water, and fuel shortages, and rapid price inflation.  The combination of forced, open-ended, low-paying, national service for many Eritreans and severe unemployment leads some Eritreans to commit crime to support their families.  Eritrean authorities have limited capacity to deter or investigate crime or prosecute perpetrators.

Modern telecommunications options are limited in Eritrea and cannot be counted upon in an emergency.  International cell phone service plans do not work on Eritrean networks.  Local cellular phone service is tightly controlled by the Eritrean government and difficult to obtain.  When available, international cell phone calls are extremely expensive and only available using pre-paid minutes.  Internet cafés are rare and hours are limited.  Internet service is limited and slow, and generally does not support Voice over Internet Protocol (VoIP) services such as Skype.

The U.S. Embassy in Asmara strongly encourages U.S. citizens who travel to or remain in Eritrea despite this Travel Warning to enroll in the  Smart Traveler Enrollment Program (STEP)  so you can receive the most up-to-date security information.  Please keep all of your information in STEP current.  It is important when enrolling or updating information to include multiple phone numbers and email addresses to facilitate communication in the event of an emergency.

The consular section of the U.S. Embassy in Asmara, though closed for most visa services, is open for all U.S. citizen services between the hours of 2:00 pm and 4:00 pm Monday through Thursday, or by appointment.   The U.S. Embassy in Asmara  is located at 179 Alaa Street, P.O. Box 211, Asmara; telephone +291-1-12-00-04, available 24 hours in case of emergency; fax +291-1-124-255 and +291-1-127-584.

Current information on safety and security can also be obtained by calling 1-888-407-4747 toll-free in the United States and Canada or, a regular toll line at-1-202-501-4444 for callers from other countries.  These numbers are available from 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. Eastern Time, Monday through Friday (except U.S. federal holidays).  You can also stay up to date by bookmarking our  Bureau of Consular Affairs website, which contains the current  Worldwide Caution.  Follow us on Twitter  and the Bureau of Consular Affairs page on Facebook  as well.  You can also download our free Smart Traveler App, available through  iTunes  and the  Android market, to have travel information at your fingertips.
Travel.State.Gov

AWOL ALLO 30 November 2012

The Ethiopian regime is using the legal system to eliminate dissident voices and drag protesters to court under terrorism charges. Far from guaranteeing equality and justice, the country’s courts serve as an instrument in the Government’s hands to legitimize persecution of political adversaries while justifying its practices to the west.

The deployment of laws and the devices of justice for oppressive political projects are as old as antiquity. From Socrates to Jesus of Nazareth, from Joan of Arc to Susanne Anthony, from Nelson Mandela to Ethiopia’s own Burtukan Midaksa and Eskindir Nega, the site of the courtroom has been used to intimidate, harass, silence, exile, and eliminate political foes perceived to be a threat to the authorities of the day. The phenomenon we sometimes identify as ‘the political trial’ is neither exclusively eastern nor western, autocratic or democratic. In both democratic and autocratic states, courts adjudicate conflicts irreducibly political or ideological in their nature. We could argue whether it is ever justified to use the court system to get rid of ‘the politically obnoxious’, but the fact remains that the judicial apparatus is inevitably one of the most irresistible sites of power-struggle.

Writing at the height of the Cold War, and arguing contra a legal ideology often called liberal legalism, Judith N. Shklar exposes legalism’s wilful blindness to domination and exclusion.  While she recognizes legalism’s ‘greatest contribution’ to a “decent political order”, she accuses liberalism’s ‘formal justice’ for its silence towards laws that persecute. The principle of legality for which liberalism congratulates itself “enforces persecutive laws as readily as any other kind”.[1] In Apartheid South Africa, the principle of legality provided a legitimizing logic that allowed the judicial apparatus to enforce racial inequality in the name of legality and formal justice. From these observations, Shklar concludes that the relevant question in the adjudication of political conflicts is not whether the trial is ‘legal’ or ‘political’, but the form of politics pursued through those trials.[2] One may disagree with Shklar’s generalization, but what is instructive about her conception of the political trial is the emphasis on the nature of politics pursued through the trial—whether it is emancipatory and transformative politics or oppressive. It is precisely in this sense that I wanted to explore the “politics’ in Ethiopia’s recent political trials.

The last two decades have witnessed the deployment of the legal framework, including foundational documents establishing Ethiopian sovereignty, as strategic tool against regime adversaries. In his definitive scholarship on political trials, “Political Justice: the Use of Legal Procedures for Political Ends”, the Frankfurt jurist Otto Kirchheimer describes ‘the classic political trial’ as “a regime’s attempt to incriminate its foe’s public behaviour with a view to evicting him from the political scene”.[3]  Given the vagaries of the medium and its vulnerability to subversive resistance, it is fitting to ask why Ethiopia, a country with an exclusive monopoly over the means of narrative production, from mass media to pretty much every other conceivable ‘stock-in-trade of politics’, turned to its institutions of justice to pursue a project that is the antithesis of truth and justice? 

The trial and the animating logic of legal truth

Trials are one of the oldest and most legalistic institutions of law. While the institution of the trial pre-existed the Enlightenment, their normative recognition as a site of truth and justice goes back to the rise of Enlightenment epistemology and Weberian legal rationality. Since the onset of the 20th century, the trial is broadly recognized as a communicative forum of truth-searching governed by rational legal rules both within adversarial and inquisitorial systems. The communicative logic that structures the medium of the trial requires a strict observance of canonical set of rules necessary for the excavation of objective truth; a truth indispensable for the determination of guilt and innocence in the administration of criminal justice.

For any trial to retain its name as a trial—to retain its normative legitimacy as a forum of truth—there must be an irreducible risk of conviction or acquittal to the defendant and the prosecution respectively. That makes the trial what it is.  If the outcome of the trial is predetermined, if the irreducible element of risk—either of acquittal or conviction—is eliminated, the trial is not a ‘trial’ in the proper sense of the word, but an authentic political event, a theatre of repression reminiscent of the Stalinist show trials. This is the first sense in which trials can be ‘political’. And most of Ethiopia’s political trials belong to this category, a ‘stage show’ specifically calibrated to serve a specific pedagogic end.

There is, however, a different logic that makes the moment of the trial the most productive political instrument in struggles over power. As a communicative space governed by the logic of deliberative rationality, trials have built-in mechanisms that allow them to resist and escape the confines of this rationality. They have an irreducible linguistic and discursive reflexivity that allows their politicization. In “Democracy in America”, Alexis De Tocqueville brilliantly captures the performative features of the courtroom, that make the political appropriation of its space irresistible. He writes: “It is a strange thing what authority the opinion of mankind generally grants to the intervention of courts. It clings even to the mere appearance of justice long after the substance has evaporated; it lends bodily form to the shadow of the law.” Courts have this ‘vastly superior’ power of truth production and image creation. Because the courtroom is normatively understood as an independent, neutral, and impartial institution of justice elevated above and beyond the expedience of politics, it is sufficient that a defendant 'had his day in court' irrespective of what goes on behind the cloak of legality. For a regime interested in satisfying western curiosity rather than justifying its action to its own people, legal procedures have the incomparable advantage of elevating political struggles into an authoritative, neutral and impartial process. This is emblematic of the situation in Ethiopia.

The invocation of the lexicon of law and justice in the ritual space of the courtroom obscures and conceals the politics at the core of the trial. As De Tocqueville says, even when the violence that goes in the name of the rule of law and justice is revealed without its mask, “the mere appearance of justice” continues to provide a semblance of legality and justice for the spectacles of domination. When Ethiopia’s late Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi, following the arrest of opposition leaders post 2005 election promised the west that the accused ‘will have their day in court’, Zenawi was aware of the truth-effects that the metaphor and the spectacle generate. He knew that liberal legalists would not distinguish between the procedure used and the objective sought, and that they would argue that if, “They had their day in Court, they were not really persecuted”. Indeed, if we take this logic seriously, if we look at aspects of contestation in the courtroom that function on the borderline of what is said and what is meant, the strategic and tactical move made on both sides of the divide is a less deliberative and more performative enterprise. In part, it is this performative quality, this ‘vastly superior’ image-creating power, that accounts for Ethiopia’s resort to its courts as a weapon of domination.

The trials of the developmental state

This is both the logic and the rationality that animates not only Ethiopia’s terrorism trials of the last three years, but also many of its major political trials. In the name of the ‘developmental state’, the system has transformed its courts into another security apparatus whose job is not to second-guess the government, but simply to rubberstamp decisions made somewhere else. Ethiopian courts are not guarantors of the reign of equality and justice; they are the very instruments used to secure inequality and injustice. They are legal technologies of repression whose strategic function is to rationalize, justify and legitimize the repressive logic behind these persecutive law proceedings by situating them within the framework of law and justice. Instead of laying the foundation for a just, inclusive, and democratic society, the current government has chosen to use the law and institutions of justice to annihilate the very juridical conditions necessary to cultivate those values.

By orchestrating authentic political events under a false façade of legality, the courts use their formal ‘legitimacy’ to authenticate the narratives of government as they dispose of elements hostile to the regime and vindicate the political order. They do this in several high profile trials, ranging from the Red Terror Trials (against members of the military dictatorship) to the recent conviction of journalists and opposition party members, and the ongoing case against leaders of the protest movement calling for an end to what they see as an unlawful government interference in their religion.

If the Red Terror Trials were meant to create a clean break with that nefarious past, foregrounding the foundation of the new Ethiopia in the ideals of accountability and justice, the EPRDF government has failed and failed utterly in drawing a clear line between the moral failings of the past and its own promised ‘virtues’ of the present. If you look at the system in action, with its ins and outs, with the choices it makes and the exceptions it allows, you will notice that its practices are the precise negation of every normative proposition it espouses, including the constitutional premises upon which everything else rests. But why invoke terrorism against people who may be as far as one can be from an act of terror?

In the name of truth and justice

In recent years, Ethiopia found a convenient validation for its practices in the post 9/11 reordering of global legality. The same nations that exported Enlightenment epistemologies to Africa—everything we know as Africans about juridical conceptions of the rule of law, freedom and justice—are now exporting a different logic and political rationality that dislodges those values in the name of ‘counter-terrorism operations’. The same Enlightenment that gave us (shall I say imposed on us?) the language of equality, freedom and justice is now being used to justify the suppression of struggles for freedom and justice.

To align its own struggle against domestic dissidents and political movements that it deemed ‘terrorists’ with the ‘global war on terror’ [Preamble, Ethiopian Anti-terrorism Proclamation], Ethiopia began to appropriate the legal and political rationalities of the west, to transfer its essential technologies, and to secure its own space from which to defend and justify its policies at home. By being a part of the new “framework for conceptualizing global violence”, it participates in the formulation and reformulation of the discourse, using western rationalities to name and describe the violence of certain groups as illegitimate, while encoding its far more pervasive violence into laws and institutions to justify it and render it acceptable.

In the post 9/11 world order, nothing performs the spectacles of oppression Ethiopia sought to orchestrate better than the eventalizing discourse of terrorism. Ethiopia’s transition from explicitly repressive criminal legislations to the performative label of terrorism allowed the regime to encase its practices within the signifying practices and rationalities of the West. A highly convenient category, and not specifically Ethiopian, terrorism justifies the invocation of ‘national security’ against individuals and groups that struggle and resist the repressive practices of the government. It is a category that forms domains of truth capable of enunciating the accused and their causes as extremist, violent and ultimately terrorist. Once a political adversary is then transformed into a ‘threat’ to the very cohesion of a population or a nation. That alone is sufficient to justify its elimination from the political sphere. In a system where the functional differentiation between law and politics, guilt and innocence, law and fact are dislocated, the mere labelling of the movement leaders as “terrorist” is sufficient to exclude them from the category of the human and therefore deny them the benefit of the law.

For the regime then, hailing its own ‘terrorists’ as such, serves, in one and the same move, four distinct politically productive purposes: (1) It transforms the ‘political adversary’ so named into a ‘threat’ to the entire population of the state, if not of the world; (2) It delegitimizes the cause(s) of individuals and groups so ‘designated’; (3) It rationalizes, justifies, and legitimizes the violence used against the ‘terrorist’; (4) Finally, it strikes a silent political pact with western powers for a diplomatic shield to its practices. This, however, is a very risk intensive adventure. There is no guarantee that the use of the legal system for oppressive political ends generates and crystallizes the power effect expected by any party.

From “the case against Eskinder Nega and 23 others” to the ongoing “case against the 29 defendants”

Since its Anti-terrorism law began to function as a weapon synchronizing political action with the discourse of truth and justice, we have seen courts as the key strategic tools used to harass and eliminate regime adversaries from the political sphere in this way. But the recent trend is quite alarming. In the last four months, the Ethiopian High Court convicted and sentenced several prominent journalists, opposition party leaders and activists under its sweeping anti-terrorism law. In another high profile terrorism case against 29 Ethiopians, the government is staging a sensational show to redefine not only the terms of engagement between friends and foes but also the limits of tolerable dissent. But does all this succeed in eliminating regime adversaries or in creating the image Ethiopia wanted to create ? Whatever their political goal, neither Ethiopia nor its victims of political justice can control the political effects of these trials—no one has the monopoly over the ultimate impact of these trials.

When law is called upon to eliminate political adversaries, trials degenerate, threatening to expose or unmask not only the instrumental function of the law and the court process, but also the nature of power politics in Ethiopia, making the invisible visible, in ‘all its brutality and secrecy’.

These trials are touchstones in new and different ways. They represent those rare moments in the life of a body politic when public authority reveals its true essence. In calling its adversaries to judgement, it exposes itself to the judgment of the very public in whose name it exercises the right/authority to judge. To condemn men of exemplary sacrifice and moral imperative under the guise of law and order, only generates more embarrassment and irredeemable moral failure. As Aung San Suu Kyi noted: “The root of a nation’s misfortunes has to be sought in the moral failings of the government.” I am not suggesting that all victims of political justice in Ethiopia had no case to answer. Not at all! The point is this: when the judicial machinery is activated against a political foe, the indictment is simply a cover-up, a smokescreen, for behind the scene political struggles. 

If ‘law and public order’ constitute the epicentre of criminal justice, its centre of gravity, history reminds us of the double inscription of this discourse. In the trials of John Lilburn, Nelson Mandela, Daniel Berrigan, the Rosenberg Brothers, Susan Anthony, Birtukn Midaksa, Eskindir Nega and the current case against the 29 Ethiopians, we see a tension between at least two conceptions of both law and order. Whatever the implications of each position, these trials demonstrate the double-movement at work in the invocation of the discourse of law and order and its historical susceptibility to various interpretations. In many of these trials, we have the most complete clarification of the violence represented by conceptions of ‘law and order’; a clarification that demonstrated that these defendants had a more responsible and just understanding of law and order than their prosecutors.

The story of Nelson Mandela from the dock at Pretoria (1956-60) and Rivonia(1963-64) is the most paradigmatic case. For Nelson Mandela and the ANC, true ‘law and order’ aspires at notions of justice and freedom, dignity and equal opportunity for all. Law and order retains its legitimacy only when it pursues ideals that Mandela famously articulated as a “free and democratic society” for which he was “prepared to die.” But Apartheid sees the resistance of the ANC as disruptive to the constituted ‘law and order’ regardless of the ‘racial inequality’ the order is designed to enforce. While there is no symmetry between Ethiopia today and Apartheid South Africa, the logic that animates the deployment of the legal system against the political foes is one and the same. For those dragged before Ethiopia’s courts in the name of law and order, a just ‘law and order’ resides in something beyond itself, in its legitimacy, responsibility and justice.

As a ritual moment, these trials embody a historicity that transcends itself both in time and space. It was Hannah Arendt who reminded us of this ‘condensed historicity’ when she characterized the Dreyfus trial as “a fore-gleam of the twentieth century”.[6] Just as one cannot write a complete history of Apartheid or Israeli Occupation of Palestinian lands or the history of the United States of America without an account of how the judicial system sustained these practices, rationalizing and justifying Apartheid, occupation and slavery, respectively, one cannot begin to articulate the history of the last two decades in Ethiopia without accounting for the strategic role assigned to the legal system and its courts. The mass trials of members of the CUD post 2005election, the second arrest and imprisonment of Burtukan Midaksa, the terrorism trials of several Oromo political leaders and activists and others touched the fabric of Ethiopians and will help the public to navigate through the dense irony of law, politics and history.

Conclusion

Our understanding of these trials is critical for conceptualizing and articulating a new political universe, a new political subjectivity and a new standard of justice, one that is inclusive and reflexive but always attentive to its pedagogic imperative: the recognition and acknowledgement of past injustices, conquests and longstanding resentments.

In the end, if there is anything didactic about Ethiopia’s blasphemous spectacles of justice, it is the power-rationalizing and order-legitimizing function of its courts, a function that threatens to denaturalise and unmask the contempt with which the system holds its law and institutions of justice. If the current instigators of political trials in Ethiopia were to be prosecuted under the same rules they were invoking against their foes and before the same courts they were prosecuting their adversaries, they will be guilty as charged on every single count. Like Tamrat Layne and Siye Abraha before them, the machinery they use will not spare them. Those who dragged before them the likes of Burtukan Midaksa, Eskinder Nega, Bekele Garba, Olbana Lelisa, Andualem Arage, Daniel Bekele, Taye Dida, and the current defendants, will be guilty of the politics for which they are accusing these defendants.

 [1] Judith N. Shklar, Legalism: Law, Morals, and Political Trials, (Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1986) at 146.

[2] Ibid. at 144.

[3] Otto Kirchheimer, Political Justice: Using Legal Procedure for Political Ends, (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1961) at 46.

[4] Irving Stone, Clarence Darrow for the Defense, (New York, New American Library, 1969), p.130.

[5] See Michel Foucault, Society Must be Defended, (London, Penguin Books, 2003)  at 134.

[6] Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism, (New York, Meridian, 1958), at 93. 

Awol Allo is the Lord Kelvin/Adam Smith Scholar at the University of Glasgow Law School, Glasgow, UK. Previously, Awol was a lecturer at St. Mary’s University College, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

Source : OpenDemocracy

De birhan .

AMHARA REGION, Ethiopia -- Yeshi-Alem drapes a small, woven book bag over her left shoulder for the short walk to school where students sit three to a desk in a classroom made of mud and straw and where the only light is a few rays of sunshine sneaking through a doorway.

Yeshi-Alem settles in a front-row desk in the class of 55 boys and girls. Being here is a major accomplishment, one that has transformed the 18-year-old from a self-described shy girl into an outspoken proponent of girls' education, access to birth control and girls' right to marry when and whom they want.

Like many of the girls I spent time with in Ethiopia's Amhara region earlier this year, Yeshi-Alem knows about not having such choices. She was forced to marry when she was 10-years-old. A few years later, she gave birth to a boy and dropped out of school.

Photo Credit: Dave Snyder/ICRW

Yeshi-Alem's experience is all too common. From Nepal and Nicaragua to Yemen and Uganda, anestimated 10 million girls worldwide are married each year before their 18th birthday. Driven largely by poverty and gender inequality, the practice of child marriage persists despite laws against it in many countries, including Ethiopia.

In the Amhara region of northern Ethiopia, Yeshi-Alem is one of hundreds of thousands of child brides who are married, in often secret ceremonies, to men eight or more years older. Most don't learn about their wedding until a week or days before. Many are isolated in remote villages, stuck in a life often defined by household chores and tending to their husbands' and in-laws' needs.

Wives and mothers, but not yet adults, these girls remain largely invisible to others in their community -- and invisible to the world.

However, the International Center for Research on Women (ICRW) is helping bring girls like Yeshi-Alemout of the shadows through an innovative program called TESFA, which means "hope" in Amharic. Launched in 2010 with funding from the Nike Foundation, the joint CARE-ICRW program provides 5,000 married girls -- most are between the ages of 14 and 19 -- with information about sexual and reproductive health, saving and investing money and tips on how to communicate effectively with others around health and financial matters. What makes TESFA unique is that it's one of the few efforts globally that focuses on the overlooked population of married girls, which numbers about 60 million worldwide.

Critically, TESFA aims to empower child brides to advocate for themselves within the confines of a life they did not choose. By doing so, these girls are likely to have a better chance of not only growing into healthy, productive adults, but also mothers who one day may stand against their own daughters being forced to marry.

In many developing nations, girls are often valued less than boys, and marrying daughters early can be viewed as a way to ease a family's financial burden. Child marriage in some countries can mean a small dowry or a gift of cattle or land to farm from the future husband's family. And as is often the case worldwide, girls' virginity holds a high price -- many parents believe early marriage protects their daughters from sexual violence and "dishonor."

But a girl's childhood also abruptly ends with marriage. Most child brides drop out of school, increasing their chances of remaining trapped in an inter-generational cycle of poverty. Meanwhile, most girl wives have little power in their marriage including negotiating safe sex practices with their husbands, which puts them at an increased risk of complications from early pregnancy and childbirth.

Many of the girls I met in Amhara didn't know much about birth control, let alone how pregnancy happens. Most described painful, unwanted first sexual experiences with their husband. Some girls said they realized they were pregnant only when an adult explained why something was moving in their belly.

For Yeshi-Alem and others, being involved in TESFA seems to be creating a turning point. Most notably,ICRW has found that girls have become more self confident. That's true for Yeshi-Alem, who said she couldn't even look at people before the program. When we talked outside one day in the grass, she met my gaze, chatted nonstop and was quick to pose for a camera.

"TESFA project," she told me, "has opened my eyes."

She said she feels different these days, like she has a kernel of control over her path. It's a small shift, but a powerful one that could help redirect the course of Yeshi-Alem's life -- and that of other married girls in this corner of Amhara.

Indeed, armed with new information, skills and confidence, Yeshi-Alem convinced her husband to let her use birth control as well as return to school.

"We don't have land, so we can't afford to clothe two kids, feed two kids and send two kids to school," she told him. And then, she said to me with a wry grin, she suggested that she'd only have another child if her husband would take care of their firstborn.

He would have none if it, Yeshi-Alem told me, laughing. It was a big win for her.

Watch the video "Voices from Ethiopia" and help ICRW reach 10,000 views by Giving Tuesday on Nov. 27.

14,Novmber 2012

The Blog.

The following letter from Oromos from six American States (Georgia, Ohio, Texas, Michigan, Washington and Oregon) was sent to Gadaa.com on November 29, 2012.

——————–

“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.”

Dear Friends and Compatriots,

We have warmly welcomed the good news of reconciliation and unity made between OLF-SHG and OLF-QC, which was awaited enthusiastically for long by all Oromo. We are very grateful to the leaders of both sides for the positive response they made to the wishes and demands of reconciliation posed to them by their people. It is a good start, and we would wish them all the best in reaching the decisive and victorious destiny together.

Mistakes were done, and it is humane to make mistakes for a person who works. Mistake is said to be a best teacher for those who are willing to learn from it. By learning from the past mistake, and committing oneself not to repeat the same mistake is a wise man’s character, but persisting in it is deadly foolishness. Mind you, even wandering beasts and flying birds do not fall into the same trap. There are no charges for making mistakes, but malice like that of your ex-comrades of the so-called ODF, which passes normality and becomes inexcusable in its any measurement.

As you have come to agreement to iron out all the problems that hindered the national liberation of our nation for long period of time, it is obvious that there could be hurdles to be removed away in order to fully implement the reconciliation process. That will not panic us at all, because there is always a black sheep in every flock and prickle in any field. What matters most is your determination and zeal to bring the agreement to a full-fledged success.

Having said that, we understand that you have a lot to do and a long way to travel to bring about a true and complete oneness. To do this, you have to turn back and contemplate on the first day you left all your comfort zones to join the struggle for the national liberation of your nation, your determination, your commitment, your courage and your willingness to die for this noble cause. Again, you remember your sufferings, your thirst, your hunger and your destitute lives in the jungles of Oromia. Those of you who suffered an inhuman treatment in the prisons of our enemy at different levels and places for the cause of your people; forget not what happened to you when you are dealing with the reconciliation you have made with one another. You remember your dear comrades who sacrificed their lives for this big nation in front of your sights in battlefields, in prison, on fields and streets of their motherland. Remember your comrades and fellow Oromos who are suffering behind prison bars for this cause; think of those who are tortured and persecuted by the brutal and ruthless Habasha government. Think of these innocent Oromos uprooted from their own land, and are thrown away and facing indescribable plights.

What impression and feeling does the above paragraph give you? Losing hope or more determination to renew your pledge to your people? The latter is the better. It is clear that the above paragraph brings bad and hardly good memories back to minds in which our human entities are highly tested: they detect us to tell even if we are really competent human beings and people with determination and guts: as we are having such devastating and tragic history of being a majority in everything, but still subjugated, oppressed, exploited and completely destroyed by a minority.

Once again, we congratulate you for now as two sides of a coin and be delighted most to call you as a would-be one OLF with deeply touched hearts and joyous feelings. At last, not least, as of the day you came to your mind to serve and save your nation as one body and blood, and lead us towards common goal, we also would like to renew and express our commitment to do our shares in anyway possible and stand by your side to accomplish the job. No more bystanders, but partakers.

United We Stand; Divided We Fall!

Oromia Shall Be Free!

From:
Oromos from State of Georgia
Oromos from State of Ohio
Oromos from State of Texas
Oromos from State of Michigan
Oromos from State of Washington
Oromos from State of Oregon

November 26, 2012

Gadaa.com

Muslim Protestors in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, are resisting perceived government interference in religious affairs. Photo: Special Arrangement.

Community claims government conflating legitimate protest with terrorism

Last month, in a courtroom in Addis Ababa, 29 defendants listened intently as the prosecution summarised charges. The accused were Muslim men in their thirties, elderly sheikhs in religious attire, and Habiba Mohammed, the wife of Junedin Sado, Ethiopia’s Minister for the Civil Service and Chairman of the Board of Addis Ababa University. The crime? Organising protests against the government and participating in a far-reaching conspiracy to dismantle the constitution and establish an Islamic state in Ethiopia.

The trial has: exacerbated existing tensions between Ethiopia’s Muslim community who make up about 34 per cent of the population and the national government; has claimed high-profile victims like Mr. Junedin, a once-powerful regional politician who has disappeared from the public eye; and revealed the tangled nexus between religion, politics and public life in Ethiopia.

Temam Ababulga, the lawyer for the accused, said his clients were being persecuted for opposing the government and had been tortured in prison. Rights groups such as Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International and the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom have criticised the government’s heavy-handed treatment of its Muslim minority; charges that the government denies. Government spokespersons did not respond to repeated requests for an interview.

Ethiopia has served as the incubator for both Christianity and Islam; the Christian majority traces its lineage back to the fourth century reign of Emperor Ezana, while Muslims speak of the “First Hijra” when Prophet Mohammed’s followers fled persecution in Arabia and sought refuge here in the seventh century. A Christian monarchy ruled the country up to 1974 when Emperor Haile Selassie was overthrown by a secular communist military regime that gave way to the current dispensation in 1991.

The 1994 constitution established the secular nature of the state, but many Muslims feel that the government has consistently marginalised their community and restricted their freedom of worship in the guise of enforcing secularism. Ethiopia has no history of sectarian violence, and Muslim leaders have emphasised that their ire is directed at the government, not the Christian community.

INFLUENCE OF RADICAL GROUPS

In background interviews, government officials who did not want to be named said they were concerned by the influence of global radical Islamist groups like the Al Qaeda affiliated Al Shabab in neighbouring Somalia, and that wealthy Islamic charities in the Middle East were funnelling money into Ethiopia in a bid to radicalise Muslim youth. “There is a very real concern amongst the people that radical Wahhabi groups are establishing themselves in Ethiopia, and that the government is not doing enough to stop them,” said an official. In this particular case, for instance, the government accuses two non-governmental organisations — the Albir Development Cooperation and Association and Nema — of providing material support to the defendants.

Albir was established in 2005 by Sheikh Sultan Haji Ahman, who lived in Saudi Arabia for several years before returning to Ethiopia. He is one of the 29 defendants currently in jail.

“Albir is not a religious organization. It is a registered NGO that works on water and sanitation, provides cash assistance and educational support for 1,401 destitute families in 21 sites across Ethiopia. About 50 percent of the families are Muslim,” said an Albir representative. While Albir used to get money from Saudi Arabia, the representative said that, for the past three years, the NGO received all its money from Turkey and was working on a health project funded by the Islamic Development Bank. Activists, academics and Muslim elders interviewed by The Hindu said that government was wrongly conflating legitimate protests against the ruling party with terrorist acts directed at the state. Most requested anonymity as they feared harassment, and pointed to the arrest of Habiba Mohammed as proof that the entire community was under siege.

CONFLICT BEGAN IN 2011

The current conflict began in September 2011 when the government withdrew the licence of the International Islamic Relief Organisation, a Saudi NGO funding the religious school at the Awolia Mosque in Addis Ababa. “We wanted confirmation that they would not engage in religious affairs, which they could not provide,” said a government spokesperson. Under Ethiopian law, the official said humanitarian organisations cannot run religious institutions.

While the withdrawal of the Saudi NGO was not contested in December 2011, the Ethiopian Islamic Affairs Supreme Council (EIASC), a body that claims to represent the country’s 30 million Muslims, removed the Arabic language teachers at Awolia and dismissed several administrators. “They dismissed 50 teachers [in total] without any reason, and closed the college. The council is not authorised to do that,” said a Muslim activist, “The students began protesting against the council.”

The protestors questioned the legitimacy of the EIASC, accused the body of acting on the behest of the government, and noted that the council had not held elections in over 10 years. They also accused the council of promoting a particular sect of Islam, known as Al-Ahbash, by dismissing imams who refused to preach Ahbashi doctrines at their mosques.

Al-Ahbash was established by Shaykh Abdallah Muhammad al-Hariri, an Ethiopian imam who left Harar for Lebanon in the 1940s after he fell foul of Emperor Haile Selassie. In Lebanon, the Shaykh preached a non-political reading of Islam, opposed the Wahabi school promoted by the Saudis, and urged his followers not to oppose lawfully established governments. Prominent Wahabis and Al-Ahbashis have each accused the other of heresy.

“The Ethiopian government brought 15 Lebanese Al Ahbash ulama during the summer of 2011 to help spread the ‘moderate’ version of Islam in Ethiopia,” writes anthropologist Dereje Feyissa, in his paperMuslims Struggling for Recognition in Contemporary Ethiopia, “The coming of Lebanese ulema and a series of subsequent training…conducted during the fall of 2011 for religious authorities and students angered many Muslims …who have condemned what they consider an imposition of an ‘alien’ religion.”

The protests against Al-Ahbash reached a head in July this year when the police opened fire to disperse a crowd gathered at Awolia mosque. The mosque suffered significant damage and is yet to be reopened. Several people were injured and many were arrested in connection with the summer demonstrations, including the 28 men currently on trial for allegedly trying to set up an Islamic state in Ethiopia.

Habiba Mohammed was arrested when the police found a large amount of money and several copies of the Quran in her car as she drove out the Saudi Embassy. The police have accused her of using the money to fund the protests. The Saudi Embassy did not respond to requests for an interview.

In an open letter to the press, Mr. Junedin explained that the money was in fact intended to build a mosque in his village in accordance with his mother’s dying wish. He has retained his ministerial post thus far, but has been expelled from the Executive Committee of his political party. “You can’t build mosques with undeclared money from the Saudis if you are a senior minister in the government,” said a senior official, suggesting that Mr. Junedin had acted irresponsibly. Mr. Junedin has been forbidden from travelling abroad until the case is resolved; he was unavailable for comment.

MINISTER’S INTERVIEW

In an interview this September to The Hindu, Ethiopia’s Minister of State for Communications Shimeles Kemal said there was no move to promote Al Ahbash. “This is wide propaganda, there is no such sect [in Ethiopia],” he said, “The Islamic council has started to educate with the view to issue certificates for imams and other religious preachers to prevent any extremist creeds from being circulated in the mosques.”

This month, the EIASC finally succumbed to pressure and held elections for a new group of leaders. However, the voting was held in local government offices, rather than in mosques. Muslims activists across the country responded by calling for a boycott of the elections. “The government has already decided who will win the election,” said a protestor at one such demonstration, “Those living in government houses are threatened that they will be forced out if they don’t participate in the election.”

In the September interview, Minister Shimeles denied these allegations, and said that the community was coming out in full force to vote.  

“Ninety three per cent of the 7.5 million registered voters participated in the elections,” said Rachid Mohammed, “According to the by-laws, elections should be held every five years. Due to certain mismanagement and incompetence, the previous Majlis missed one cycle. Apart from that, there were financial problems as well.” Mr. Rachid, who described himself as a professional management consultant providing technical assistance to the EIASC, said the new executive would do a much better job in serving the Muslim community. He dismissed the divisions over Al-Ahbash, claiming that Ethiopian Muslims didn’t see themselves as belonging to any particular sect, “We are all Muslims,” he said, “everyone has their own individual ideas and thoughts.”

30,Novemeber 2012

The Hindu.

By RENÉ LEFORT

The trade-off offered by authoritarianism to its client-constituents is security and high growth rates. After Meles challenges may force change, or build the case domestically for a new strong man.

Meles Zenawi, the former Prime Minister of Ethiopia, has been dead for around three months. But the “Melesmania” personality cult, though discreet in his lifetime, shows no sign of fading. From giant portraits in the streets to stickers on the windscreens of almost any vehicle, a smiling Meles is still everywhere.

The late Prime Minister Meles Zenawi at the inaugural ceremony of Abay Bridge (Photo Awramba Times, Wed Sep 10, 2008)

The sudden death of Meles shook the whole of Ethiopia. The shock quickly gave way to fear of an unknown and threatening future.
The regime did everything to exploit this fear for its own benefit. It has issued continuous calls for the nation to unite around the memory of the dead leader and, above all, around the project he designed and imposed with an iron hand. The new Prime Minister, Hailemariam Selassie, endlessly repeats that he will pursue “Meles’s legacy without any change”. He has replaced not a single cabinet minister. It could be said that the regime is running on autopilot, with the Meles software driving the leadership computer. Plunged into disarray, the governing team is hanging on to this software like a lifebelt. Why?

The making of Melesmania

Until the crisis of 2001, the handful of leaders of the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), the dominant force in the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) in power since 1991,[1] worked in a remarkably collective way. Within this group Meles was – and not always – the primus inter pares, surrounded by strong, clever and articulate figures united by a radical Marxism. The crisis culminated in the expulsion of most of these figures, in a massive purge and finally in a threefold power shift.

The first shift saw Meles emerge as the unchallenged supremo, moving quickly to clip the wings of the few leaders who seemed to be acquiring a solid political base. He promoted only those whose loyalty he considered unshakeable, whose positions depended entirely on his goodwill, people like Hailemariam Dessalegn. Radiating outwards from a first circle of “advisers”, almost all Tigrayan, all the lines of real power penetrated down to the base of the State apparatus, whether federal or regional,[2] to the Party and to whole sectors of the economy.
Although the government reflected the country’s ethnic diversity, most ministers had authority only in name. Parliament, as it had since 1991, remained a rubberstamp chamber. No institution was able to escape this dominance and achieve autonomy. Moreover, this personal power was also intellectual. The one politically correct doctrine (“revolutionary democracy” and the “developmental state”) was devised and imposed on the country by Meles and Meles alone. This monopoly prevented the emergence of any other body of ideas and, inevitably, of any alternative line of thinking.
The army and security services were represented within this central authority, which held sway over them. Later, although Meles Zenawi maintained a grip on the security forces, the army gradually became “bunkerized”, a sort of state within the State. Meles himself had to acknowledge the autonomy of the military command, by agreeing a kind of pact: I will grant you substantial autonomy, and in particular turn a blind eye to your wheeling and dealing; you support me, especially since if I fall, you fall with me. Hence, no doubt, the remarked upon reticence of the army during the recent period of succession, as if it felt so powerful that its fortress would remain impregnable, away from the turbulent currents within the new governing team. Hence, also, the procedure followed in announcing, on September 12, the appointment of 37 new generals – including at least 23 from Tigray – a reminder that no one, not even Hailamariam Dessalegn, can interfere in the affairs of the military.
The third change concerned the TPLF and, concomitantly, the EPRDF. It was contradictory. On the one hand, the tentacles of the single party penetrate to every level of the administration: it has consumed the State from the inside. Its agenda takes absolute precedence. The TPLF holds the key positions in the nationalised companies and the web of “private” firms that in reality it controls, the so-called “parastatal companies”. Overall, this structure accounts for two thirds of the modern economy, excluding traditional agriculture. With its 5 million members – 300,000 in 2001 – the Party controls and directs the population as never before, right down to the smallest echelon of five or six households. On the other hand, the Party has been marginalised as a political institution and therefore left lifeless, if not brainless. The TPLF, not to mention the three other satellite parties, were reduced to mere instruments for the exercise of Meles’ personal power, an essential institution but nevertheless no more than an instrument.
This extreme concentration of multifarious powers in the hands of Meles Zenawi is one of the darkest aspects of his legacy: his death leaves a profound and multifaceted vacuum. Conversely, however, it also opens up an exceptional opportunity for change. First, politics and power, like nature, abhor a vacuum. Second, the Meles “model” is running out of steam. It will inevitably have to be refashioned.

Challenging the regime to change

Contestation from the Muslim opposition poses the most immediate challenge, perhaps the most serious for the regime since 1991. In order to counter what it sees as the rise of radical Islam, it is seeking to impose a “moderate” but completely marginal Islamic doctrine and to back its affiliates within the Islamic Affairs Supreme Council. Thirty-five percent of the population is officially Muslim[3] – the real figure is probably higher – along with around half of the Oromos, who also have strong aspirations to autonomy. Muslims, the vast majority of whom reject extremism of any kind, are calling – peacefully – for nothing more than the right to decide their religious affairs for themselves. The government is responding by repression. The stakes are huge: protest continues; so far, the government has never been ready to lose control of a large “civil society” organisation.
For a whole section of opinion, in particular within the diaspora, the major challenge that the regime will need to tackle and which will inevitably demand change is “the widespread democratic aspiration of Ethiopians”. But the scope and nature of this aspiration is open to question. The traditional and historical culture, which permeates the overwhelming majority of Ethiopian society, is still hierarchical and authoritarian. It is in perfect harmony with the “communist engineering” that moulded the TPLF from its inception and still shapes the ruling power.
With very few exceptions, the demand for a “strong leader”, who guarantees “peace and security”, is a national constant. Weak leadership opens the door to power struggles, which inevitably leads to “disorder” and the suffering that arises from it. Even the emerging middle class, usually seen as the spearhead of opposition to authoritarian regimes, largely shares this view. Whatever its criticisms of the regime, it desires stability above all. It largely believes that the country is too divided to undergo profound change without the risk of tragic turmoil.
Nevertheless, the aspiration for change is undeniable, though within certain limits. These relate first to inflation, which in September hit a peak of 40% overall, and 50% for food.[4] More profoundly, in this urban middle class and in the emerging group of “kulaks” in the countryside, this aspiration centres around what might be called personal professional empowerment, in other words: “let us go about our business as we want”, without the constant intervention and intrusion of the authorities, without having to swear fealty to the Party, without arbitrariness exacerbated by erratic and opaque regulations.
However, this change is not simply a matter of aspiration. Although the “developmental state”, in its current form, has brought remarkable progress, it has reached its limits. The first question concerns the reality of its achievements, notably the famous “double digit growth” since 2004, which the authorities constantly extol.[5] In fact, this figure is the product of a vicious circle. The government sets absurdly ambitious targets. The work of every public servant is assessed against those targets. Their careers depend on it. And of course, they claim to have achieved them. Then the targets are raised again. Once again, they claim to have met them. The lie becomes institutionalised. The gap between basic national realities and the image that the authorities perceive and communicate, from summit to base, has become so great that it could be said that Ethiopia has turn out to be not so much a Potemkin village, as a Potemkin country. Sooner or later, the authorities will have to deal with the shockwave that results when the truth inevitably comes out.[6]
Another shock will arise from the unsustainability of the funding of the developmental state. The government will no longer be able to invest enough to maintain growth at the same high levels as in recent years, unless it continues to print money, further fuelling inflation, or alternatively runs a continuing trade deficit, exacerbating its foreign currency crisis. But apart from stability, high growth is all the regime can offer in return for its authoritarianism. This is particularly true for the middle classes, which the regime wants as its constituency.
This is all the more significant because in the last generation the land has reached saturation point. Smallholder agriculture (employing four fifths of the workforce) is absolutely unable to absorb the 2 to 2.5 million young people who enter the labour market every year. Only massive private investment, mainly from abroad, can take up the slack.[7] However, this investment is slow to come because the Ethiopian-style developmental state distorts and inhibits normal market mechanisms too much for investors to be able to enjoy the entrepreneurial freedom they find elsewhere.[8]
Finally, the future of the Ethiopian-style developmental state is interlocked with the “national question”, whether in regard to the unresolved legacy of the conquest and submission of the borders of the Abyssinian empire at the turn of the 20th century, or to the unequal distribution of powers and assets in favour of the Tigrayans. The Ogaden National Liberation Front continues its armed struggle. The Oromo Liberation Front, although militarily a spent force, retains a large following.
After long containment, centrifugal forces are intensifying. The Oromo and Amhara elites in particular want a fairer balance. Two recent examples give a flavour of the tensions. The Oromo party does not want the chairman that the leadership wants to impose on it, but cannot impose the chairman that it wants. This deadlock was unthinkable when it was under Meles’ orders. Regions are beginning to demand a more tangible application of the federal system, in other words the beginnings of genuine autonomy, starting with… Tigray. However, in its current form, the ultra-centralism of the interwoven developmental state and revolutionary democracy is incompatible with authentic federalism.
To reshape either would threaten the very essence of power in Ethiopia, and its immemorial imperative: to control. This entails maintaining a constant and intrusive hold over the whole of society, with a single, ultimate and supreme goal: to retain power.

End of the “Meles line” Four scenarios

However, the writing is on the wall. The “Meles line” will not always have an answer for everything. Forthcoming events will demand change, even the partial rejection of that line. An accumulation of tensions and conflicts, kept in check by Meles’ iron grip, will inevitably emerge. The floodgates are beginning to open. Never before, for example, has a major newspaper, whose survival depends on continuous self-censorship, dared to go so far in its criticism of the EPRDF. Beginning with a statement of fact – that the Front does not have “a popular base and support” – The Reporter then calls on the party “to clean up its house” because “it is riddled with corruption from top to bottom!”. A change of direction and a reshuffling of the cards seem inevitable. In my view, there are four possible ways these changes could go.
In one scenario, the current leaders, who largely equate to the dominant oligarchy, cling to their positions and privileges. Economic, social and political tensions rise. They respond with more repression, for which all the necessary instruments are in place. However, this does seem a likely scenario. According to confidences shared with people close to them, most are convinced that Meles’ death signals the end of an era and that the status quo is untenable.
A second possibility that cannot be completely ruled out, despite the leaden weight that bears down on society and the intense fear it arouses, is a popular, spontaneous and unforeseeable explosion, triggered by a minor incident, spreading like wildfire, fuelled by social and, in particular, ethnic tensions. The regime would spare no effort to suppress it, but could ultimately be overwhelmed by events.
In the developmental state, government revenues are certainly centralised at the top, but then largely redistributed to implement a long-term development plan, although this redistribution is becoming increasingly limited as corruption rises. Meles was the final guarantor of this redistributive process. Who, what political force, what counterbalancing element could protect Ethiopia from the predatory evolution observed in so many developing countries, in particular those where a “revolutionary elite” holds all the levers of power (in black Africa, for example, Angola or Mozambique)? In this third scenario, these revenues would continue to be centralised but would remain mostly with the central oligarchy, the residue being redistributed through a structure of cronyism. Growth could continue at a sufficient level for the oligarchic regime to survive, but “development” would fall by the wayside.
In the fourth scenario, this party/state control would be relaxed, obviously not to the point of genuine democratisation, but through some liberalisation in the economic sphere. More or less the Chinese “model”. Circumstances and events favour this scenario. Meles’ death has led to a fragmentation of power centres, which are weakly structured and cancel each other out, because none at this stage is in a position to take a lead. For example, no agreement could be reached on filling the only vacant cabinet post, that of Minister of Foreign Affairs. And for weeks no one was able to force Azeb Mesfin, wife of the late prime minister, to leave the National Palace, where she no longer had any reason to remain.

Contest at the top

The TPLF’s current leadership no longer has the intellectual capacity or sufficiently strong personalities to become what historically it was, at least in the short term: the epicentre of power, exercising full political hegemony. It has also been weakened by its many divisions. Divisions between “hardliners”, holding fast to their historic dominance, and “moderates”, for whom a relaxation is unavoidable; between Tigreans in Tigray and those outside; between generations, the “old timers” and the “fortysomethings”. The former include many who, sidelined by Meles in the name of generational change, want to get back into the game. However, they are old, and even in many cases physically enfeebled. The second group, recently promoted by Meles, and much less political than technocratic, individualistic, opportunistic and even – according to their detractors – cynical, have no intention of giving ground.
Two major factions can also be identified: one that the major losers of 2001 want to build (including Siye Abraha and Gebru Asrat,[9] who are still very popular with rank-and-file members of the Front), the other centred around its patriarch, Shebat Nega, a master schemer and long-time mentor of Meles before the latter marginalised him.
And finally, there is the enigma Azeb Mesfin. Fiery and unpredictable, she was the main troublemaker in the succession process, the leading figure in the minority that opposed the appointment of Hailemariam Dessalegn. She holds a strong hand, including an intimate understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of all the players, close links with the security services, leadership of the TPLF’s economic conglomerate and supporters amongst cadres of the Front, those who would have the most to lose if the cards were reshuffled.
A few other names stand out from the pack. The intelligent and highly respected Arkebe Enquay won more votes than Meles at the 2008 TPLF conference, but lost out in 2010. Debretsion Gebremichael is seen as the Front’s rising star. This young engineering graduate, a senior figure in the security services, has a reputation as a hardliner. His sudden promotion to number two in the Front is all the more significant in that the titular number one, Abay Wolde, is widely perceived as something of a cipher. And then finally, there are a pair of Amhara party bosses, Addissu Leguesse, its former chairman, and the ever-present Berket Simon, who was also very close to Meles.
However, understanding the game being played out at the top is exceptionally difficult, and not only because of the wall of secrecy around it. A political analysis provides only a small part of the picture. Much more important now are each player’s economic positions – since most of the leaders also have their own businesses – the very close family ties within the Tigrayan elite, geographical origins, personal friendships and enmities. The web these form is virtually impossible to untangle.
Nonetheless, three dominant poles seem to be emerging: the brainless but still tentacular TPLF, and the security services with their osmotic relations with certain leaders of the Front; the army, closely intertwined with the TPLF, though more ethnically than institutionally; and finally, the new Prime Minister.
Hailemarian Dessalegn has taken great care to stress his desire “to work on the basis of collective leadership”. In fact, within the small fringe of public opinion that has a view on the matter, he is seen almost unanimously as a transitional prime minister, a sort of regent accountable to what might be described as a “regency committee” comprising, according to sources, four to six members, all from the old guard and all but one from Tigray. The view is that Hailemariam’s interim mandate will end once the TPLF has finally designated the real successor. For the Front’s supremacy is still perceived as irrevocable and the history of Ethiopia as immutable: “collective leaderships” are temporary and unfailingly end with the ascent of a new “strong leader”.

A renewal of the authoritarian compact?

At 47, Dessalegn has stated that he wants to remain in post at least until the 2015 selections, and even that he may seek re-election. He is said to be intelligent, open, unshakeable in his principles, possessed of great natural authority. He appears as a Meles clone in terms of policy. But no one knows if he would be able to go his own way, develop his own doctrine, be his own man. He belongs to none of the three big ethnic groups. He is a Protestant. No Ethiopian leader has ever had to overcome these two handicaps. Could Medvedev step into Putin’s shoes?
His trump card is his twofold legitimacy. The first legitimacy he owes to Meles. Even his putative rivals, particularly within the TPLF, cannot at this stage contest this without undermining other aspects of the “great leader’s” legacy. It is doubtful that they would do so as long as Meles’ long shadow lies across the political stage. In addition, it is this legacy that continues to bind and guide the current leadership. And finally, it is this that they need to use to legitimise the maintenance of their current positions.

The second source of legitimacy is more deep-rooted and lasting. “The ruling king is my king”, as the saying goes. The whole country is impregnated with an ancestral sense of hierarchy, of submission to established authority. The aspiration for an incontestable and uncontested leader is strong. Hailemariam Dessalegn is now simultaneously executive leader and chair of what is essentially the single party, and therefore, at least in name, also heads the TPLF, the army and the security services. In this capacity, he has his hands on virtually all the institutional levers of power. These levers are not only intrinsic; their strength is also significantly increased by this ancestral sense of hierarchy. Finally, he stands at the summit of the infrastructure of absolute power passed on intact by Meles.
The forces facing him, for the moment at least, are disunited, scattered and disparate. There is no tangible, structured counterforce, underpinned by a strong base and possessing a strategy commensurate with the challenges. The army is in its bunker, but there is no reason why he should not find the same modus vivendi with it as Meles, especially as there is no sign of a Bonaparte waiting in the wings.
Finally, Hailemariam Dessalegn has the time to patiently forge his own position, if he has the capacity. There does not seem to be any single figure strong enough to open hostilities in the near future, or adventurous enough to take the country into the unknown.

[1] Its four components each represents a major ethnic group: Tigrayan (6% of the population), Oromo (37%), Amhara (23%) and the mosaic of Southern peoples (20%). The Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front was the spearhead and major winner of the victory over the Derg military junta in 1991.
[2] Ethiopia is a federal republic.
[3] Compared with 41% Orthodox Christians and 20% Protestants.
[4] In a two-year period, civil servants lost around half their purchasing power. Peasants, half of whom are net buyers of food, often claim that “inflation is worse than prison”.
[5] Although, officially, the annual growth rate has been more than 10% since 2004, in reality it has been considerably less, probably some 6% to 7%. It continues to fall. “Even before the onset of the 2008 crisis, Ethiopia’s economy was already slowing down” (World Bank Report N°71884-ET, August 29, 2012).
[6] International organisations like the IMF, and large donor countries, have finally begun to doubt the official statistics, including those for growth rate and agricultural production. According to assessments by certain large international development institutions, official grain production is overstated by some 30%.
[7] Foreign direct investment is amongst the lowest in Sub-Saharan Africa per head of population.
[8] “Despite some positive developments in industry and service sectors, Ethiopia has been a difficult place to do business”, World Bank Report N°71884-ET, August 29, 2012.
[9] Siye Abraha was one of the founders of the Front and its leading military figure. Gebru Asrat, a historic leader of the TPLF, was the president of the Tigray region at the time of his expulsion

Source: Opendemocracy

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).

29,November 2012

UDJ.