Messay Kebede
In some fringe ultra-Amhara ethnonationalist circles, it has become quite customary to label me as anti-Amhara, even as an Amhara hater. Allow me to present two recent examples. In a YouTube interview aired on August 1, 2025, a person named Tekle Shawa, who claimed to have been my student at Addis Ababa University during the Derg’s period, openly accused me of being anti-Amhara. According to him, there are many instances in my books and articles that tangibly expose my anti-Amhara sentiments. Going further, he declared me a dangerous person, a statement with perilous implications, as one can imagine. What was most upsetting was that the interviewer, Tingirtu G. Tsadik, seemed to double down on Tekle’s assertions instead of demanding evidence and moderating the inflammatory trend of the interview. In view of this attitude, I called the interviewer to remind him that it was his obligation as a media person to give me a chance to tell my side of the story. At first, he agreed with some urgency: a date was set for the interview, which, however, was canceled via a text message the same day as the interview was scheduled to take place. Other than a vague excuse, I was simply informed that the interview was postponed to an unspecified later date. On the spot, I knew it was not so much a postponement as a cancellation.
Another example is the cancellation of a presentation I was asked to provide for a conference on the Amhara resistance. Following the objections of some members of the organizing committee, I was invited over a phone conversation to explain two statements taken from one of my books, which, according to them, were undoubtedly disparaging the Amhara nation. I explained that, unless the context clearly shows that it is not about the Amhara people as a people, I always qualify my statements by adding “elites,” “ruling class,” etc., to the term “Amhara” to indicate clearly that it is not about the people but the rulers or upper classes. Although it turned out to be the case with the two sentences, my explanation was rejected, and my participation was canceled two days later.
For the sake of brevity, I refrain from mentioning other circumstances and random conversations in which people alluded to my anti-Amhara persuasion. The accusation is all the more dismaying for me because I have never been against any people, much less against the Amhara people. Accordingly, I decided to defend myself in the best way I could by presenting my counterarguments in writing. My intention is not to engage in public disputes with my defamers, but rather to present the facts clearly and accurately so that the truth shines by itself.
People and Elites
When one reads a book or an article, one should never isolate a given sentence from the context, without which it loses its true meaning. The term “Amhara” designates the Amhara people, but it also serves as a qualifier to characterize whatever is associated with being Amhara or applies to Amhara. As suggested earlier, to avoid any ambiguity, I make it a point to clearly separate the people and all those who claim to be Amhara or rule in the name or on behalf of the Amhara people. When the context is not evident, I specify by identifiers, as Amhara elites, Amhara ruling group, or class. Likewise, such often used expressions, like “Amhara hegemony,” “Amhara conquest,” do not imply that the Amhara people were involved in any way in the planning and implementation of the hegemony or conquest. How could it be so if the people themselves were dominated by the ruling class and deprived of the freedom to choose, as is the case with the Amhara people? The mentioned expressions only indicate the ethnic origin of the ruling class.
Those who are familiar with my books and articles should know that I consistently argue that Ethiopian politics, notably since the start of modernization, has systematically excluded the Ethiopian people from any meaningful participation. Accordingly, my main thesis has been, and still is, that elite conflicts overwhelmingly determine Ethiopian politics. In fact, one of my books is titled Ideology and Elite Conflicts: Autopsy of the Ethiopian Revolution. It follows that a person aware of my principal thesis should perfectly realize that the idea of putting the blame for the bad things that happened in Ethiopia on the Amhara people as a people is anything but acceptable. This person should logically conclude that the blame should be placed on those who ruled in the name of the Amhara people. The amalgamation of rulers and their ethnic groups has vitiated Ethiopian studies and geared them towards the evil consequences of ethnicization.
Unfortunately, even those who are aware of the distinction are reluctant to dismiss the charge of anti-Amhara labeling against me. My understanding is that the charge originates from contesting the legitimacy of my criticism of the Amhara elites or the ruling class altogether. To begin with, I did not initiate the criticism: it came from diverse sources, including from Amhara scholars, and is an integral part of the academic literature dealing with Ethiopian history and politics. No one can write anything that is academically acceptable by ignoring it.
To focus on recent and pivotal events, I remind my detractors of the undeniable fact that Ethiopia went through a radical, violent, and popular social and political revolution in the 70s because people were unhappy with the class that was running the country at that time. I concede: the revolution went too far, and the criticisms addressed against the ruling class were not always fair. I also agree that Amhara elites were not alone in botching the social system; representatives of other ethnic groups share the blame, even if it is believed that the Amhara ruling class played the dominant role. But these facts do not invalidate the legitimacy of the criticisms, especially when one aspires to an objective description of the imperial system, as is expected of academic work. In whichever way we analyze the situation, the truth remains that a popular uprising carrying a lot of anger and disappointment has thrown out the imperial system.
Another truth to bear in mind is the nature of my own intellectual formation. Granted that I am a public intellectual who extensively writes, gives speeches, and interviews on political matters, the truth remains that I am neither a party cadre nor an activist. All my public contributions always bear the mark of my academic formation as a philosopher. I strongly expect people not to lose sight of this fact and believe that my writings, presentations, and interviews are designed to support this or that party, this or that partisan cause, or this or that ethnic group. My only concern is Ethiopia and Ethiopians, both visualized as a transcendent cause.
What is to be an Ethiopianist?
For me, Ethiopia is a pluralist notion, but in such a way that it breeds unity or oneness. It is like white light dividing into different colors under the effect of a prism. For this reason, I dislike ethnonationalism, be it branded Oromo, Amhara, Tigrayan, or any other ethnic group. On the other hand, I also fully understand how mistreatment and marginalization can push people to organize ethnically and fight back against oneness. I am half Oromo and half Gurage; yet I see these attributes as parts of Ethiopian oneness rather than entities. I mean this literally since my mixed origin could not have happened without the umbrella of Ethiopian unity.
What I say here seems to contradict the other fact that in my writings and speeches regarding Ethiopia’s future, I recommend the accommodation of the ethnic factor, arguing that mere dismissal of ethnicity will not remove the causes of the problems the country is facing presently. However, the contradiction is only apparent: disliking ethnicity need not blind us to the reason why it became such an important factor in Ethiopian politics. The best approach is to be realistic, that is, to accept, albeit provisionally, the relevance of identity politics and reconcile it with national unity. It thus means reforming the existing system through an inventive formula acknowledging the realities of Ethiopia.
What all this signifies is that my dominant Ethiopianist perspective on ethnic politics does not permit me to take the side of this or that ethnic group: where an ethnonationalist sees an Oromo, or Amhara, or Tigrayan person, I primarily see an Ethiopian. It is important to understand that Ethiopianism cannot be against any ethnic group. The notion is, by definition, inclusive because it would be contradictory for Ethiopianism to miss the pluralist significance of Ethiopia. Ethiopia is not an ethnic group; otherwise, it would forsake its transcendent nature. Ethiopia is an idea, an aspiration, a vocation, as it was forged against the colonial idea of white superiority and its alleged rights. I know that the idea did not fulfill its potential and veered off onto a faulty path. Even so, my commitment to an inclusive, transcendent idea forbids me to exclude or hate any component of this inclusiveness.
My commitment to a transcendent Ethiopia is conspicuous if one pays attention to another main idea running through all my books and articles on Ethiopia, namely, its amazing survival. Notably, having studied and written an entire book (Survival and Modernization: Ethiopia’s Enigmatic Present), not to mention numerous articles, on the epic survival of Ethiopia and on the invaluable and crucial contributions of the Amhara people in the inception and implementation of the idea of Ethiopia, it is inscrutable to assume that I would turn against those who framed the idea. Precisely, it is because I understood the revolution of the 70s as a rupture, even as we were expecting continuity of evolution, that I wrote critical books and articles on the period covering the pre-and post-Italian occupation and leading up to the revolution as well as to its post-ramifications. The rupture inaugurated a period of disappointment, disillusionment, and an uncertain future that I conceptualize as “derailment.”
The mentioned book reiterates the epic survival of Ethiopia under the leadership of the Amhara emperors and the spiritual guardianship of the Ethiopian Coptic Church. Unless my accusers never read the book or read it and did not understand it, the book extols the vital political, ideological, and military contributions of the Amhara people and leaders in the survival of an independent country, especially during the colonial period. I even go further by forwarding the idea that all ethnic groups, especially the southern peoples, are indebted to the Amhara people and elites for providing state protection against colonialism. Without Menelik’s conquest and integration, the southern peoples would certainly become the prey of different colonial powers and, hence, be divided by colonial borders.
The book, Survival and Modernization, is thus a forceful testimony that discredits the charge made against me of being anti-Amhara. The fact that ethnonationalists are basing their anti-Amhara narrative on a misleading conceptualization of the colonial period makes the testimony even stronger. Their deceptive view enabled them to describe the Amhara people and leaders as direct “colonizers” or “dependent” colonizers, thereby deliberately creating confusion between an overseas conquest by European colonizers and a local, African coalescence aiming at withstanding European colonialism. The denunciation of the confusion strengthens what was said earlier, namely, that the term “Ethiopia” is an anti-colonial idea, that is, a gathering of peoples to defy colonialism under the leadership of Amhara rulers.
Reviewing the Narrative against the Amhara People
Another misconception held by some ethnonationalists and radical Western scholars is the idea that blames the Amhara people for Ethiopia’s dire conditions. They claim Ethiopia’s development was hindered because of the mindset of the Amhara, which they describe as expansionist, exploitative, and domineering. I have never believed this claim because it conflicts with the known living conditions of the Amhara people. Let me share an experience. It is about a program organized by the “Commission for Higher Education” during the Derg era, aimed, among other things, at introducing higher education teachers to Ethiopia’s real conditions. During the year I participated, we visited the towns and environments of Bahr Dar and Gonder. While Bahr Dar and its surroundings appeared relatively better, we were appalled by what we saw in Gonder. The town was plagued with extreme poverty and deprivation: although we stayed in a modern hotel, the conditions were deplorable, with no running water and other normal services. The environment was even worse, with Amhara peasants plunged into severe poverty.
At the sight of such depletion and extreme poverty, I could not dismiss the irony of describing the Amhara people as the privileged, the darling of all ethnic groups, in whose interests Amhara elites are unfairly ruling the country. The more I thought about the irony, the more I realized the fallacy of most of the radical studies of modern Ethiopia. Just because a ruling elite comes from a specific region, it does not mean that the region will receive preferential treatment. I concluded that it is imperative to revise the narrative describing the imperial regime and the Derg as an ethnic form of government in favor of a conception that underlines the separation of elites from the people they claim to represent.
Some Oromo elites seem to have come to the same realization when they argue that Abiy’s government is not an Oromo government, despite his claim. The same awakening is expected from the Tigrayan elites: the Tigrayan people did not benefit from the TPLF rule. That is why I argue that the focus should not be so much on the ethnic belonging of the ruling elite, but on the system of power in Ethiopia that always turns into a dictatorship. Some such approach is the best way to get out of the narrative blaming the Amhara people for all the wrong things that Ethiopia had to endure. The use of ethnicity does not fully explain any of the Ethiopian “modern” regimes: their absolutist nature prevents them from privileging their ethnic belonging, as dictatorship is never satisfied unless it subdues everybody. It is not in the nature of dictatorship to be less here and more there: uniformity is its target.
Amharic as University Language
Besides reviewing the false narrative against the Amhara people, I have also taken practical steps to put to good use the reality of a unified country. Far from disparaging the Amhara people, I thought that Ethiopia could activate and resume its epic journey if Amharic, as a native spoken and written language, is elevated to a university language, from which it was banned. To the question of why I chose Amharic, my answer points to obvious reasons, which range from convenience, practicality, wide expansion, to recognition of historical contribution. Accordingly, I planned an experiment in which I would use the language to teach philosophy to first-year students for one semester.
Prior to the experiment, I made sure that the words and concepts I would need were made available in Amharic. Happily, many of the words were already translated into Amharic in accordance with the ideological needs of the revolution, albeit sometimes inaccurately or incompletely. More importantly, the ideological office of the then ruling Workers’ Party of Ethiopia chose me to be a member of a small group assigned to work on and finalize a more elaborate and academically acceptable Marxist-Leninist dictionary. The group split into three smaller groups to cover the three component parts of Marxism-Leninism, namely, philosophy, political economy, and scientific socialism. My group of four people gathered every afternoon on weekdays to work on the philosophical part of the dictionary. I did the conceptual and theoretical work, while the rest of the group mostly did the translation and editing part.
While working on the project, it dawned on me that the dictionary was actually furnishing the material I needed to conduct my experiment. I shared my project with the then Dean of the College of Social Sciences, the President, and the Academic Vice President of the university. Since they all supported the idea, I immediately started the administrative process to obtain official approval of the experiment. I taught one class for one semester and administered the final exam. To provide verified evidence of my assumption that students will understand and perform better if the course is taught in Amharic, I handed the graded copies of the exam to members of the Department of Philosophy for review. Once I made sure that there were no discrepancies, I submitted my grades to the registrar.
It is at this moment that my troubles started: protests and objections against the experiment erupted in the College of Social Sciences. My case was discussed in a stormy session of the Academic Commission of the college, as a result of which I was told that the experiment was rejected, except for the grades, to avoid penalizing students. In general, I was not surprised by the brouhaha: I expected some Tigrayan and Oromo teaching staff to react negatively. Yet, what surprised me most was that many Amhara teaching staff joined the rejectionist camp; in fact, they were the loudest and the most adamant. Even after I dropped the idea of continuing the experiment, unpleasant and stressful consequences continued to follow me.
My story gives evidence, in addition to my books and articles, of my high esteem for the Amharic language and the Amhara legacy. Nothing is more inconsistent than to accuse me of being an anti-Amhara when Amhara-born elites refuse to even talk about the experiment. Notwithstanding the lack of recognition, the experiment substantiated that Amharic has all that is required to shoulder the responsibility of becoming a real modern language for the Ethiopian people. Besides, the Ethiopian teaching condition had nothing to lose, given the level of the English language among Ethiopian students. My belief was that a country aspiring to become modern needs an indigenous modernization process that recenters it. For this, one necessary condition is to ward off mental colonization and dependency on the West. The use of an indigenous spoken and written language is the proven method to achieve such a result.
Of course, I am more than aware that the favorable opportunity for the implementation of the project of Amharic as a national language is gone, most probably for good. However, the imperative for a country that escaped colonization to select one language from among the native languages and raise it to the level of a national language will not dissipate. For Ethiopians, it is a simple choice between fully realizing and living a national vocation, with all the benefits it could bring, and vegetating in the ethnic stage of human development. In other words, it is a choice between democratic openness and inclusiveness and the fence of group solidarity for sheer survival.