Ethiopia, Eritrea, & the Human Condition
- By Adakole Idoko
- Published 04/11/2008
- Democracy
- Unrated
I was in Ethiopia in 1991, back when Eritrea was still just an Ethiopian province. That was only a few short days before Haile Miriam Mengistu’s "Derg" Regime fell. It was a strange time to be in Addis Ababa. Revolutionary-turned-President Meles Zinawi’s Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) forces were closing in on the capital city, having ultimately routed Africa’s largest standing army, with the help of Issayas Afwerki’s forces up in Eritrea.
Back in ’91, out in the harsh but beautiful eastern Ethiopian countryside, I interviewed a number of emergency relief staff working in refugee camps, asking them what they felt to be the greatest impediment to national development. The reply was consistently "Let peace come first." In other words, before there could be any other talk about sustainable development in Ethiopia, the thirty year war with Eritrea had to end. Precious national resources had to be channeled back into productive sectors of the economy. Farmers had to be allowed to resume their work. And young men should be free to walk the streets without fear of being summarily "drafted" by security agents for the war effort.
I went back to Ethiopia in ‘94, after peace had come, and Eritrea had decided to secede, based on its own referendum. I was able to hear first hand about some of the positive changes taking place in the new Ethiopia. And by 1995, I found myself permanently stationed in Ethiopia, on a long-term working assignment. I and my family spent two years of our lives there. In those two years, we did see some progress. It was far from perfect, mind you, but there was progress.
Imagine my disappointment when I heard that, in early June, there was an undeclared war evolving along the Eritrea/Ethiopia border. My disappointment only deepened when I was informed that Ethiopia had actually attacked the civilian international airport (albeit, adjacent to the military airport) in Asmara, damaging a Zambian Airlines plane in the process, in alleged retaliation for an Eritrean air attack on the northern Ethiopian city of Mekele. It had become a hot war. Soldiers were dying. Civilians were dying. The once close allies in Asmara and Addis Ababa had turned into bitter enemies. I was left aghast, asking myself how and why this could be.
I am familiar with Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa, having traveled there several times. But I am not a so-called expert on Ethiopia. Anyone who tells you that he is an expert on Ethiopia is probably either lying, or simply doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Ethiopian society is very complex, and very inscrutable. What one sees on the surface may or may not be related to what one might see below the surface. I have even had several Ethiopian friends and associates tell me "What goes on in Ethiopia is sometimes hard for me to understand, too."
Addis Ababa, the capitol of Ethiopia is situated in the famous Ethiopian highlands, at an altitude of roughly 7,500 feet. The weather is naturally cool, as are most of its inhabitants. Ethiopians, as distinct from West Africans for example, are very quiet people. Bars and restaurants in the old section of Addis Ababa, like elsewhere in Africa, are places where business associates, friends, and lovers will go to meet; however, they will do so very quietly. It is not uncommon to actually hear the footsteps of new guests at a bar or restaurant, long before you will hear his or her hushed voice. Upon arrival, many patrons will simply look up at the newcomer, following them with their eyes, holding a blank stare, then, ever so quietly, resuming their own hushed, private conversation. Loud, boisterous discussion only takes place after alcohol has made its presence felt. But such behavior is generally considered unbecoming in refined Ethiopian society.
This description of social etiquette may seem like a mundane issue, but it actually says a lot about the society. Still waters run deep, as the old saying goes. Ethiopian society is very calm on the surface; yet simultaneously very passionate underneath.
Ethiopia is a very old country, with a very long sense independent identity and collective history. It is older than the Byzantine Empire in Eurasia, and is the second oldest Christian civilization in the world, after Armenia. It is credited with having bequeathed script to that civilization; a script Armenia uses to this very day. Ethiopia is also a former colonial and commercial power: by the beginning of the 5th century, the ancient Ethiopian city-state of Axum had colonized parts of what constitute modern day Sudan, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Sri Lanka, and India. The Ethiopian Empire gave political asylum to the Prophet Mohamed and his followers, while they were still subject to political and religious persecution in their native land. More recently, Ethiopia has ejected would-be European colonizers twice within a fifty year span (under the military leadership of Emperor Menelik and Empress Taitu in 1896, and Emperor Haile Selassie in 1942, respectively); retaining its status as the only African state never colonized by a foreign power.
There is an apparent sense of order and consensus in Ethiopia that may seem baffling to outsiders. The crime rate in Addis Ababa is relatively low, for example, given the level of grinding poverty that exists in some parts of the city. To compare with West Africa again, anyone who knows the infamous expressways that cross Lagos will also know that, once a traffic jam (the ubiquitous "go-slow") occurs, seemingly out of nowhere come hawkers attempting to sell you everything from fresh fruit to underwear to power tools. You can find your car or taxi surrounded by an army of such people – a virtual walking Wal-Mart – in a matter of seconds. In Addis Ababa traffic, it’s a different scene: you can be surrounded by an army of beggars in tattered clothes, having dragged themselves in from a war-ravaged countryside, seeking nothing more than a few pennies for their next meal. Those who consistently fail in the task of begging will, oftentimes, simply go and squat next to the nearest wall, close their eyes, and quietly die. Ethiopian writers and intellectuals have commented on this phenomenon within their own society, and I have witnessed this with my own eyes. The thought of stealing never enters into the scheme of things, for many.
And so, it is in this context of a deep-rooted sense of place and history that we should view Ethiopia, finding itself thrust into yet another war. For much of the 20th century, Ethiopia has had an overt war or a covert skirmish going on, either with a neighboring state, or within its own boundaries. It doesn’t take much to figure out that war is perhaps the most costly of national endeavors. It destroys infrastructure, it stretches the fabric of societies, and it depletes societies of their young people – particularly men. Yet, we also know that patterns of violent behavior, both at an individual level and at a national level can become institutionalized. People often persist in patterns of violent solutions to social problems because "That’s the way it’s always been."
Then, enter contemporary international politics. Both Ethiopia and Eritrea have been generously supplied by the United States military in recent years. They were both supposed to be a bulwark against Islamic fundamentalist aggression in Sudan, as well as provide strategic logistical support to potential conflicts in the Middle East. Members of the el-Bashir/Turabi National Islamic Front Government in Khartoum can only be smiling at such a turn of events: their Christian enemies have turned on each other.
But in the final analysis, for politicians, international confrontations are really only domestic crises played out in foreign venues. Prior to the outbreak of hostilities, Ethiopia’s Meles Zenawi had some public image problems at home. He had been seen as a sell-out in some corners of Ethiopian society, having given too much of Ethiopia over to Eritrea, as a quid pro quo for helping his forces defeat the much-hated Derg. People in Addis Ababa would quietly complain to me of Eritreans who were living comfortable lives doing business between Eritrea and Ethiopia; yet Ethiopians were not extended the same privileges in Eritrea. The fact that the Ethiopian President Meles also had cultural and familial associations to Eritrea did not help matters.
So now, Meles has the galvanizing effect that cross-boarder wars inevitably bring to nations. All of Ethiopia can stand behind its president, as he attempts to eject the Eritrean aggressor. It would be nice if it were that simple. Alas, like the President himself, there are many Ethiopians with Eritrean ancestry (some of it quite recent), just as there are many Eritreans with Ethiopian ancestry. Cross-boarder war though this may now be, it is still a case of brother against brother, in-law against in-law.
So what does this new turn of events say about Ethiopia, Eritrea, or the human condition?
As far as the two countries are concerned: we are really dealing with two aspects of the same society, the same civilization, now under different flags and different regimes. But these are still basically the same people, as they have been for over two millennia.
On the human condition: "When elephants fight, the grass suffers" according to the ancient proverb. It is the ground troops now on the boarder who will bear the brunt of this latest round of political hostilities, along with the local villagers in that disputed region. If asked, before relations turned so sour between the two governments, most of these farming people would probably not care which country they belonged to, as long as they could get fair prices for their crops, have plenty of healthy children, and be free to worship their god. Now, neighbors are forced to choose sides.
If, at some time in the not-too-distant future, you once again find images in the western media of skeletal children from Ethiopia (or Eritrea) with outstretched hands, you can rest assured that there is much more going on behind that image that most of the world will never see and, therefore, never understand. If, as a concerned citizen of the world, you should find yourself confronted with the question, "What can be done to resolve the problem over there?" You can ponder this: Ethiopia is a very old country, with a very deep history; and it will ultimately do things in its own way. There is really nothing new under the sun, and Ethiopia knows this. Countries like the United States – espousing its form of "Democracy" to Ethiopia and to Africa (an issue I will address separately in upcoming articles) are comparable to rich, energetic, loud-mouthed teenagers counseling their less affluent elders. The elder may listen to the child, and even take money offered by the child, but in his heart and mind, he knows better because he has lived longer and seen more.
Ethiopians and Eritreans are proud people with a rich, shared history, and ultimately, a common destiny. They will do things in their own way, at their own pace. What exactly needs to be done, you still ask? Let peace come first.
Adakole Idoko
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Back in ’91, out in the harsh but beautiful eastern Ethiopian countryside, I interviewed a number of emergency relief staff working in refugee camps, asking them what they felt to be the greatest impediment to national development. The reply was consistently "Let peace come first." In other words, before there could be any other talk about sustainable development in Ethiopia, the thirty year war with Eritrea had to end. Precious national resources had to be channeled back into productive sectors of the economy. Farmers had to be allowed to resume their work. And young men should be free to walk the streets without fear of being summarily "drafted" by security agents for the war effort.
I went back to Ethiopia in ‘94, after peace had come, and Eritrea had decided to secede, based on its own referendum. I was able to hear first hand about some of the positive changes taking place in the new Ethiopia. And by 1995, I found myself permanently stationed in Ethiopia, on a long-term working assignment. I and my family spent two years of our lives there. In those two years, we did see some progress. It was far from perfect, mind you, but there was progress.
Imagine my disappointment when I heard that, in early June, there was an undeclared war evolving along the Eritrea/Ethiopia border. My disappointment only deepened when I was informed that Ethiopia had actually attacked the civilian international airport (albeit, adjacent to the military airport) in Asmara, damaging a Zambian Airlines plane in the process, in alleged retaliation for an Eritrean air attack on the northern Ethiopian city of Mekele. It had become a hot war. Soldiers were dying. Civilians were dying. The once close allies in Asmara and Addis Ababa had turned into bitter enemies. I was left aghast, asking myself how and why this could be.
I am familiar with Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa, having traveled there several times. But I am not a so-called expert on Ethiopia. Anyone who tells you that he is an expert on Ethiopia is probably either lying, or simply doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Ethiopian society is very complex, and very inscrutable. What one sees on the surface may or may not be related to what one might see below the surface. I have even had several Ethiopian friends and associates tell me "What goes on in Ethiopia is sometimes hard for me to understand, too."
Addis Ababa, the capitol of Ethiopia is situated in the famous Ethiopian highlands, at an altitude of roughly 7,500 feet. The weather is naturally cool, as are most of its inhabitants. Ethiopians, as distinct from West Africans for example, are very quiet people. Bars and restaurants in the old section of Addis Ababa, like elsewhere in Africa, are places where business associates, friends, and lovers will go to meet; however, they will do so very quietly. It is not uncommon to actually hear the footsteps of new guests at a bar or restaurant, long before you will hear his or her hushed voice. Upon arrival, many patrons will simply look up at the newcomer, following them with their eyes, holding a blank stare, then, ever so quietly, resuming their own hushed, private conversation. Loud, boisterous discussion only takes place after alcohol has made its presence felt. But such behavior is generally considered unbecoming in refined Ethiopian society.
This description of social etiquette may seem like a mundane issue, but it actually says a lot about the society. Still waters run deep, as the old saying goes. Ethiopian society is very calm on the surface; yet simultaneously very passionate underneath.
Ethiopia is a very old country, with a very long sense independent identity and collective history. It is older than the Byzantine Empire in Eurasia, and is the second oldest Christian civilization in the world, after Armenia. It is credited with having bequeathed script to that civilization; a script Armenia uses to this very day. Ethiopia is also a former colonial and commercial power: by the beginning of the 5th century, the ancient Ethiopian city-state of Axum had colonized parts of what constitute modern day Sudan, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Sri Lanka, and India. The Ethiopian Empire gave political asylum to the Prophet Mohamed and his followers, while they were still subject to political and religious persecution in their native land. More recently, Ethiopia has ejected would-be European colonizers twice within a fifty year span (under the military leadership of Emperor Menelik and Empress Taitu in 1896, and Emperor Haile Selassie in 1942, respectively); retaining its status as the only African state never colonized by a foreign power.
There is an apparent sense of order and consensus in Ethiopia that may seem baffling to outsiders. The crime rate in Addis Ababa is relatively low, for example, given the level of grinding poverty that exists in some parts of the city. To compare with West Africa again, anyone who knows the infamous expressways that cross Lagos will also know that, once a traffic jam (the ubiquitous "go-slow") occurs, seemingly out of nowhere come hawkers attempting to sell you everything from fresh fruit to underwear to power tools. You can find your car or taxi surrounded by an army of such people – a virtual walking Wal-Mart – in a matter of seconds. In Addis Ababa traffic, it’s a different scene: you can be surrounded by an army of beggars in tattered clothes, having dragged themselves in from a war-ravaged countryside, seeking nothing more than a few pennies for their next meal. Those who consistently fail in the task of begging will, oftentimes, simply go and squat next to the nearest wall, close their eyes, and quietly die. Ethiopian writers and intellectuals have commented on this phenomenon within their own society, and I have witnessed this with my own eyes. The thought of stealing never enters into the scheme of things, for many.
And so, it is in this context of a deep-rooted sense of place and history that we should view Ethiopia, finding itself thrust into yet another war. For much of the 20th century, Ethiopia has had an overt war or a covert skirmish going on, either with a neighboring state, or within its own boundaries. It doesn’t take much to figure out that war is perhaps the most costly of national endeavors. It destroys infrastructure, it stretches the fabric of societies, and it depletes societies of their young people – particularly men. Yet, we also know that patterns of violent behavior, both at an individual level and at a national level can become institutionalized. People often persist in patterns of violent solutions to social problems because "That’s the way it’s always been."
Then, enter contemporary international politics. Both Ethiopia and Eritrea have been generously supplied by the United States military in recent years. They were both supposed to be a bulwark against Islamic fundamentalist aggression in Sudan, as well as provide strategic logistical support to potential conflicts in the Middle East. Members of the el-Bashir/Turabi National Islamic Front Government in Khartoum can only be smiling at such a turn of events: their Christian enemies have turned on each other.
But in the final analysis, for politicians, international confrontations are really only domestic crises played out in foreign venues. Prior to the outbreak of hostilities, Ethiopia’s Meles Zenawi had some public image problems at home. He had been seen as a sell-out in some corners of Ethiopian society, having given too much of Ethiopia over to Eritrea, as a quid pro quo for helping his forces defeat the much-hated Derg. People in Addis Ababa would quietly complain to me of Eritreans who were living comfortable lives doing business between Eritrea and Ethiopia; yet Ethiopians were not extended the same privileges in Eritrea. The fact that the Ethiopian President Meles also had cultural and familial associations to Eritrea did not help matters.
So now, Meles has the galvanizing effect that cross-boarder wars inevitably bring to nations. All of Ethiopia can stand behind its president, as he attempts to eject the Eritrean aggressor. It would be nice if it were that simple. Alas, like the President himself, there are many Ethiopians with Eritrean ancestry (some of it quite recent), just as there are many Eritreans with Ethiopian ancestry. Cross-boarder war though this may now be, it is still a case of brother against brother, in-law against in-law.
So what does this new turn of events say about Ethiopia, Eritrea, or the human condition?
As far as the two countries are concerned: we are really dealing with two aspects of the same society, the same civilization, now under different flags and different regimes. But these are still basically the same people, as they have been for over two millennia.
On the human condition: "When elephants fight, the grass suffers" according to the ancient proverb. It is the ground troops now on the boarder who will bear the brunt of this latest round of political hostilities, along with the local villagers in that disputed region. If asked, before relations turned so sour between the two governments, most of these farming people would probably not care which country they belonged to, as long as they could get fair prices for their crops, have plenty of healthy children, and be free to worship their god. Now, neighbors are forced to choose sides.
If, at some time in the not-too-distant future, you once again find images in the western media of skeletal children from Ethiopia (or Eritrea) with outstretched hands, you can rest assured that there is much more going on behind that image that most of the world will never see and, therefore, never understand. If, as a concerned citizen of the world, you should find yourself confronted with the question, "What can be done to resolve the problem over there?" You can ponder this: Ethiopia is a very old country, with a very deep history; and it will ultimately do things in its own way. There is really nothing new under the sun, and Ethiopia knows this. Countries like the United States – espousing its form of "Democracy" to Ethiopia and to Africa (an issue I will address separately in upcoming articles) are comparable to rich, energetic, loud-mouthed teenagers counseling their less affluent elders. The elder may listen to the child, and even take money offered by the child, but in his heart and mind, he knows better because he has lived longer and seen more.
Ethiopians and Eritreans are proud people with a rich, shared history, and ultimately, a common destiny. They will do things in their own way, at their own pace. What exactly needs to be done, you still ask? Let peace come first.
Adakole Idoko
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------