Abiy Ahmed’s Military Purge: ethnic Stacking in the Ethiopian Army

The Gambella Question: Military Appointments and Marginalisation in Ethiopia

In September 2018, a sweeping series of military appointments orchestrated by Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s government promoted officers like Generals Alemshet Defe and Desta Abiche, promising a renewed national army. Yet, to a population deeply versed in the language of power, this was not a routine exercise in institution building. It was a stark revelation of a regime’s deepest fears and its strategy for survival. This single event laid bare a systematic project of ethnic stacking, centralising coercive power under one group and betraying the very essence of Ethiopian federalism. The poignant cry from a citizen of Gambella—”Did you see any of us here?”—encapsulated the profound marginalisation felt by millions, underscoring that the frontline sacrifice was shared, but the leadership was not. This analysis delves into the seismic implications of those promotions, exploring how they fuelled legitimate resistance movements like the FANO freedom fighters, exposed the regime’s compromising alliances with Eritrea, and ignited a battle for the soul of Ethiopia itself. We examine why an army built on patronage, not patriotism, is destined to fall, and why the unbreakable will of the people for dignity, justice, and true unity will ultimately prevail.

By a Son of Ethiopia, for the Children of Ethiopia

From the highlands of Begemder to the banks of the Baro, a single question echoes through the coffee houses and marketplaces of our nation: whose army is it? The recent spectacle in Addis Ababa, where the regime appointed a cascade of new generals, is not merely a military reshuffle. It is a mirror held up to a nation at war with itself, reflecting a deep sickness that threatens to tear the very fabric of Ethiopia apart. For those of us who have taken up the shield not for power, but for the people’s freedom, this parade of titles is a bitter confirmation of all we resist. It is a story of exclusion, of a captured state, and of a desperate attempt to clothe ethnic favouritism in the uniform of national unity. This is not building an army; it is assembling a palace guard for a regime that has lost its way.

Summary of Military Appointments in Ethiopia

On 10 September 2018 (Ethiopian Calendar), a significant restructuring of the Ethiopian National Defence Forces (ENDF) leadership was announced under the auspices of then President Mulatu Teshome and presented by Prime Minister Dr. Abiy Ahmed. This comprehensive series of promotions affected numerous high-ranking officers across the military hierarchy.

Senior Command Appointments

Four officers were elevated to the rank of General:

• Lieutenant General Alemshet Defe

• Lieutenant General Desta Abiche

• Lieutenant General Yemer Mekonen

• Lieutenant General Driba Mekonen

Two officers were promoted to Lieutenant General:

• Major General Feyalew Amde Tesema

• Major General Kendu Gezu

Seventeen officers attained the rank of Major General, including:

• Brigadier General Tadesse Amelo (CESA)

• Brigadier General Bulti Tadesse Kitila

• Brigadier General Hailu Endeshaw Atomsa

• Brigadier General Wagnew Aleme Ayalew

• Brigadier General Negera Lelisa Muleta

Brigadier General Promotions

Fort-three officers were promoted to Brigadier General, though some names appear with possible transcription inaccuracies from the original announcement. The list includes:

• Colonel Girma Faye Kebede

• Colonel Demeke Mengistu Tsidu

• Colonel Temesgen Asmamaw Asnake

• Colonel Lexa Nikka

• Colonel Getnet Adane Kassa

Official Response

Deputy Prime Minister Temesgen Tiruneh remarked on these appointments through social media, congratulating the officers and emphasising that “foreign service is based on sacrifice.” He characterised the appointments as demonstrating “the continual building of the army, the fruitfulness of Ethiopia, and your dedication,” expressing confidence that the personnel would “upgrade the army in their next service and improve it in position and capability.”

This restructuring represented one of the most substantial reorganisations of the ENDF leadership in recent years, framed by the government as a measure to strengthen and modernise Ethiopia’s military capabilities. The changes affected officers across various command structures and were seen as part of broader reforms within Ethiopia’s security apparatus during this period.

Here are the truths that this list of appointments reveals:

1. The Illusion of Unity: A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

   There is an old Amhara adage that says, “ውሻን ውሻ አለው ብለው ጠላትን አትተዉ” – “Do not mistake a dog for a dog and leave an enemy.” It teaches us to see beyond the surface, to discern the true nature hidden beneath a familiar guise. Today, this wisdom cuts to the very heart of the Ethiopian crisis. The regime in Addis Ababa, with its grand pronouncements and staged ceremonies, is presenting us with a dog and calling it a loyal guardian. But we, who have felt its bite, know it to be an enemy of unity itself.

   When the Deputy Prime Minister speaks of the ‘continual building of the army’ as a national project, he employs a language of unity that rings hollow to the ears of every true patriot. This is not rebuilding; it is a systematic dismantling. It is the calculated erosion of the very idea of a national, unified defence force that serves all Ethiopians equally, and its replacement with a partisan militia draped in the stolen colours of our national flag.

   This illusion is woven with several threads:

   First, it is an illusion of purpose. The true purpose of a national army is to serve as the shield of the nation—its constitution, its borders, and all its people without favour or prejudice. Yet, under this regime, the army’s primary purpose has been perverted. It is no longer the defender of Ethiopia, but the enforcer of the Prosperity Party’s will. We have seen this shield turned into a sword against its own people—in Tigray, in Amhara, in Oromia. A national army does not burn the villages it is sworn to protect. A national army does not wage war on its own citizens for demanding their constitutional rights. The ‘building’ they speak of is the construction of a more efficient instrument of oppression, not a stronger guardian of unity.

   Second, it is an illusion of composition. A unified army draws its strength from every corner of the nation it represents. Its leadership should be a mosaic of Ethiopia’s magnificent diversity, where merit and patriotism are the sole criteria for advancement. But look at the promotion lists. The overwhelming elevation of officers from one ethnic group to the highest echelons of command is not a coincidence; it is a strategy. This is ethnic stacking, a deliberate tactic to ensure that the levers of coercive power answer not to the Ethiopian people, but to a single political and ethnic agenda. When a son of Gambella asks, “Where are we in this list?”, he is pointing out that the army being built does not see him as a future leader, but only as a foot soldier in someone else’s war. How can an army be national if its general staff is not national?

   Third, it is an illusion of loyalty. The regime fears a truly national officer corps whose ultimate loyalty is to the idea of Ethiopia. Therefore, it must purge such officers and replace them with those whose primary allegiance is to the party and the individual leader. This is what lies beneath the surface of these mass appointments. It is a pre-emptive strike against any potential dissent within the ranks, a move to retire seasoned, nationally minded officers and install a loyalist palace guard. They are not building an army for Ethiopia; they are assembling a praetorian guard for Abiy Ahmed. Their loyalty is bought with rank, not won through shared belief in a common destiny.

   This is why movements like FANO have risen. They are not, as the regime labels them, ‘militias’ or ‘shifta’ (bandits). They are Freedom Fighters—the spontaneous and organic response of a people abandoned by the state that was meant to protect them. When the national army ceases to be national and becomes an instrument of terror against its own citizens, the people have a sacred right to organise their own defence. FANO and other groups are the manifestation of a community’s will to survive, to protect its children from drone strikes and its elders from summary execution. They are the starkest possible evidence that the regime’s ‘unified army’ is a catastrophic failure.

   The regime’s rhetoric of unity is a smokescreen, a thin veil attempting to hide a project of brutal majoritarianism and centralised control. They speak of ‘unity’ while their actions foster division; they preach ‘togetherness’ while their policies enact exclusion.

   True unity cannot be decreed from a palace in Addis Ababa. It cannot be enforced by a drone or commanded by a general whose loyalty is ethnic, not national. True unity is forged in mutual respect, built on the unshakeable foundation of justice, and defended by institutions that belong to everyone equally.

   The ‘continual building’ they boast of is the construction of a prison for the Ethiopian spirit, with walls of division and bars of hatred. We, who fight for freedom, are committed to a different project: the difficult, sacred work of building a genuine and voluntary union, where the army truly is the army of the people, for the people, and by the people. Until that day comes, we will see their illusion for what it is, and we will continue to resist it.

2. A Question of Representation: The Feast of the Few, Paid for by the Many

   There is a profound Oromo proverb that says, “Kan darbeen of darbee, kan duutan of duutii” – “Let the past bury itself, and the dead bury their dead.” It is a call to move forward, to build anew. But this wisdom is being twisted by the regime in Addis Ababa. They use the language of moving beyond the past to bury the very principles of justice and equal partnership that our federation was founded upon. Nowhere is this betrayal more stark than in the painful question of representation, a cry so powerfully captured by the son of Gambella: “Did you see any of us here?”

   This is not a simple complaint about a missed promotion. It is the most powerful indictment of the regime’s entire political project. It is the voice of the marginalised, cutting through the thick fog of propaganda to lay bare a fundamental truth: the promise of a Ethiopia where all ‘nations, nationalities, and peoples’ are equal partners is a lie. The federal system, designed to empower communities, has been hijacked and turned into a tool of exclusion, where some are more equal than others.

   This question of representation exposes several rotten pillars of the current order:

   First, it exposes the hypocrisy of ‘Ethiopian First’. The regime and its supporters speak in grand, abstract terms about ‘Ethiopian unity’. Yet, their actions reveal that this ‘unity’ is conditional. It is a unity that demands the frontline sacrifice of the child from Gambella, the farmer from Amhara, and the pastoralist from Afar, but refuses them a seat at the table where decisions are made. It is a unity that expects all to die for the nation, but only allows a select few to lead it. What are we truly fighting for if the future we bleed for is one where our children remain second-class citizens, their potential capped by their ethnicity? We are not fighting to preserve a hierarchy that merely has new faces at the top; we are fighting for a genuine community of equals.

   Second, it reveals the brutal calculus of ‘Federalism’ under Abiy. The regime’s version of federalism is a sick parody. It talks of regional autonomy while systematically stripping regions of their constitutional rights to self-administration and self-defence. The message is clear: you can have your cultural festivals and your language, but real power—the power of the gun, the power of the budget, the power of command—remains centrally controlled by the ruling party and its inner circle. The promotion list is a perfect microcosm of this. It shows a military command structure that is grotesquely unrepresentative of the country it purports to defend. This is not an accident; it is design. It is a strategy to ensure that the instruments of state power remain in the hands of a single faction, making a mockery of the federal covenant.

   Third, it answers the regime’s question: “Why do you resist?” When they ask why groups like FANO take up arms, the answer is in that Gambella boy’s question. FANO are not ‘militias’; they are Freedom Fighters. Their resistance is the inevitable, justified response of a people who have been systematically disenfranchised and targeted. When the state apparatus—from the army to the judiciary—is weaponised against you, when your sons are cannon fodder but never generals, when your demands for constitutional rights are met with bullets, then the social contract is broken. The rise of FANO is not the cause of instability; it is the symptom of a state that has failed its people. They are fighting for the right to be seen, to be heard, and to have a future where their identity is not a barrier to their ambition.

   The regime’s project is a theatre of inclusion masking a reality of deep exclusion. They host dialogues that are monologues, form committees that are facades, and appoint token figures to hide the fact that real power is never shared.

   The poignant cry from Gambella is the cry of all of us who believe in a true Ethiopia. It asks: What is a nation if not a shared project? What is a partnership if the profits and the leadership are not shared? You cannot build a cohesive army, let alone a cohesive country, when you tell vast segments of the population that the highest honours and responsibilities are not for them.

   True representation is not about quotas or tokens. It is about the unwavering belief that a child from Gambella, a woman from Sidama, or a man from Tigray possesses the same innate potential and right to lead as anyone else. It is about building institutions that nurture that potential, not suppress it.

   The fight we are in, and therefore, is not a fight for secession or domination. It is a fight for the soul of the Ethiopian federation. It is a fight to make the promise of equal partnership a reality. It is to ensure that the next generation of leaders—military and civilian—looks like Ethiopia, sounds like Ethiopia, and fights for all of Ethiopia. Until that day, the cry from Gambella will continue to echo, and the fight for a truly representative future will continue.

3. The Palace Guard, Not a People’s Army: The General’s Epaulettes of Fear

   In the highlands of Ethiopia, we have a saying: “አህያ በማርያም ስም ተጠመቀ፥ አምላክ ግን ልቡን አየ” – “The donkey was baptised in the name of Mary, but God saw its heart.” One can dress a beast of burden in the finest robes and give it a holy name, but this does not change its true nature. So it is with the current regime in Addis Ababa. They can dress their loyalists in the uniforms of generals, baptise them in the language of ‘army building’ and ‘national unity’, but we see their hearts. We see the fear that drives them. These promotions are not about strengthening Ethiopia; they are about building a palace guard for a leader who trembles at the sound of his own people’s discontent.

   A true People’s Army is a sacred institution. Its loyalty is to the constitution, the soil, and the sovereign people of the nation. Advancement within its ranks is earned through merit, valour, and an unwavering commitment to defend the nation from all threats, foreign and domestic. Its officers are the best of us, chosen for their skill and their patriotism, not their political connections or ethnic pedigree.

   What we witness today is the grotesque perversion of this ideal. The regime is not building a national army; it is assembling a partisan militia on a grand scale. This is a tactical move, motivated not by national security, but by a visceral fear of its own citizens and the spectre of an internal coup.

   This corruption manifests in several ways:

   First, it is a Strategy of Loyalty Over Merit. The primary criterion for these promotions is not military brilliance or a distinguished record of service to the nation. It is a proven loyalty to the individual and the party. The regime is acutely aware that its actions—the wars, the internal displacements, the brutal suppression—have created deep resentment within a military that was once a proud, national institution. It fears its own officer corps. Therefore, it must purge those of independent mind and national spirit, replacing them with sycophants whose careers are wholly dependent on the regime’s survival. These new generals are not chosen to win wars against external enemies; they are chosen to win the war against the Ethiopian people on behalf of their patron.

   Second, it is the Creation of an Ethnic Praetorian Guard. By stacking the highest echelons of command with officers from a single ethnic faction, the regime is ensuring that the army’s ultimate allegiance is not to the concept of Ethiopia, but to the political project of its rulers. This is a classic tactic of despots throughout history: to create a guard whose fate is so intrinsically tied to the ruler’s that they will fight not for the country, but for their own privileged positions. They will be willing to turn their weapons on their fellow Ethiopians because they see those countrymen not as compatriots, but as threats to the system that enriches and empowers them.

   Third, it is a Sign of Profound Weakness, Not Strength. A secure leader, confident in the support of his people, builds institutions that are strong, independent, and meritocratic. A terrified leader, who knows his rule is built on sand, builds institutions that are personally loyal. This mass promotion is not the action of a strong government; it is the frantic gesture of a regime bunkered in Menelik Palace, hearing the echoes of dissent growing louder every day. They are building a wall of generals around themselves, hoping it will be enough to hold back the tide of popular anger.

   This is the critical context that explains the rise of popular resistance. When the state’s army becomes a palace guard for a narrow clique, it abdicates its role as the protector of the people. In this vacuum, Freedom Fighters are born.

   Groups like FANO are not ‘militias’; they are the organic, grassroots response to this betrayal. They arise because the people have been abandoned by the very institution that was created to defend them. When the national army is transformed into an instrument of oppression for one group, the people have no choice but to organise their own defence. FANO are not attacking the idea of an army; they are resisting the perversion of that idea. They are fighting for the day when Ethiopia will once again have a true People’s Army—one that serves a farmer in Gojjam as diligently as it serves a minister in Addis.

   The regime’s new generals may have shiny new epaulettes, but they wear the uniform of fear. They command an army of occupation, not of liberation. They are baptised in the name of Mary, but their hearts, filled with tribalism and paranoia, are known to God and to the people.

   Our struggle, therefore, is to reclaim the soul of our national defence. It is a fight to ensure that one day, the Ethiopian army will once again be led by its most capable patriots, not its most loyal cronies. It will be an army that protects its people, not preys upon them. Until that day comes, the true defenders of Ethiopia will not be found in the palaces of Addis, but in the hills and hearts of the people, fighting for freedom.

4. The Oromo Domination Project: The Weaponisation of Ethnicity Against the Ethiopian Ideal

   There is a timeless Amhara adage that warns, “የአንድ እግር ላይ ተሰንጥቆ የሚቆም ሰው አግድሞ ይወድቃል” – “A person who tries to stand balanced on one leg will eventually fall down.” This simple, profound wisdom speaks to the fundamental necessity of balance, equity, and collective support for any endeavour to endure. The current regime in Addis Ababa, in its desperate hunger for absolute power, has not merely ignored this wisdom; it has actively sought to break the other leg upon which Ethiopia stands. The systematic promotion of officers from a single ethnic group to the highest military ranks is not a coincidence of meritocracy. It is the deliberate, calculated core of a political project designed to ethnically capture the state’s ultimate instrument of force and ensure its primary loyalty is to a party, not the people.

   This project, often whispered about but now undeniable in its execution, is a multi-faceted strategy of control:

   1. The Deliberate Dismantling of National Character: A national army’s strength lies in its transcendence of tribal allegiance. Its soldiers and officers swear an oath to defend the constitution and the territorial integrity of the nation, a concept that exists above any single group. By engaging in blatant ethnic stacking, the regime is systematically dismantling this national character. It is sending a clear, corrosive message to every soldier and citizen: your ethnicity is more important than your patriotism. Your connection to power is determined not by your ability, but by your birth. This transforms the Ethiopian National Defence Force from an institution for all Ethiopians into the armed wing of a single political and ethnic faction, shattering the trust of millions who are now told they are less entitled to lead their own country.

   2. The Creation of a Partisan Enforcer, Not a National Protector: The primary loyalty of this new command structure is not to the Ethiopian people or its laws. Its loyalty is secured to the ruling party’s agenda. This is the essence of a “palace guard.” These officers are promoted because they have proven their willingness to follow orders that serve partisan interests, even when those orders violate constitutional rights and unleash violence upon civilians. Their command ensures that the army will not act as a check on power but as its enforcer. It is the ultimate insurance policy for the regime: a guarantee that the guns of the state will always be pointed at the regime’s enemies, who are increasingly defined as anyone who dares to demand a genuine, multi-ethnic federation.

   3. The Betrayal of the Federal Covenant: Ethiopia’s federal system was conceived, at least in theory, to empower all of its diverse nations and nationalities, to rectify historical injustices, and to create a union of equals. The regime’s “Oromo Domination Project” is a vicious perversion of this ideal. It does not seek empowerment for all; it seeks supremacy for one. It uses the language of “Oromo marginalisation” of the past to justify the wholesale marginalisation of others in the present. This is not liberation; it is the replacement of one form of hierarchical domination with another, creating a bitter and deeply resentment-fuelled cycle that threatens to tear the country apart.

   4. The Inevitable Fuel for Resistance: This project is the most potent recruiting sergeant for popular resistance movements. When a people see the state’s military—the institution that holds the monopoly on legitimate violence—transformed into an ethnically exclusive instrument of oppression, the social contract is irrevocably broken. They are left with no recourse, no protection, and no representation. This is why groups like FANO have emerged not as “militias,” but as Freedom Fighters. They are the inevitable, organic response of a people who have been disarmed by the state and then targeted by the state’s weaponised ethnic army. Their struggle is a direct fight against this project of domination. They are fighting for the right to exist, to be secure, and for the restoration of a true national army that serves all Ethiopians equally.

   The regime’s gamble is a dangerous one. It believes it can build a stable future by standing on one leg, by privileging one group over all others, and by using force to silence dissent. But the adage reminds us of the inevitable outcome. A structure built on such a fractured and unjust foundation cannot stand. It will wobble, crack, and fall.

   The promotion lists are not just administrative documents; they are declarations of war on the very idea of a shared Ethiopian destiny. They are blueprints for division. Our fight, therefore, is not against the Oromo people—many of whom are also victims of this regime’s cynicism—but against this toxic project of ethnic hegemony. It is a fight for a future where the command of our national army truly reflects the beautiful, complex tapestry of our nation, where every child, from Gambella to Gonder, can look at a general and see a potential future for themselves. Until that day, the fall of this unbalanced regime is not a possibility; it is a mathematical certainty.

5. The Plight of the Common Soldier: Cannon Fodder for a Tyrant’s Vanity

   An ancient Tigrayan proverb teaches us, “ወዲ ንህዝቢ ክሞት ከሎ፡ ንልዕሊ እግሩ ዝዀነ ጨው ይምጽእ” – “When a son of the people is about to die, the salt above his foot will melt.” It is a poignant metaphor for the sacred, organic connection between the soil, the people, and those who defend them. A true warrior’s sacrifice is honoured by the very earth they protect. But today, the brave sons of Ethiopia—from Amhara, Gambella, Sidama, and Afar—are not dying for their people or their soil. They are dying for a flag that has been stolen to represent a regime. Their sacrifice is not honoured; it is exploited. The salt does not melt; it is trampled under the boot of a command structure that views them not as patriots, but as disposable pawns in a brutal game of political power.

   The plight of the common soldier is the greatest tragedy and the most damning indictment of the Abiy Ahmed regime. It exposes the profound hypocrisy and criminality at the heart of its so-called ‘leadership’.

   This betrayal operates on several levels:

   1. The Theft of Patriotism: The regime has weaponised the innate patriotism of the Ethiopian soldier. These brave men and women enlist with a heart full of duty, ready to defend their homeland from any enemy. This noble instinct is then cynically manipulated. They are deployed not to defend Ethiopia’s borders from a foreign invader, but to wage war on their own compatriots—on farmers in Tigray, on civilians in Amhara, on any community that questions the regime’s authority. They are told they are fighting for ‘unity’ while their commanders see them as tools for subjugation. Their love for their country is twisted into a mechanism for its destruction.

   2. The Architecture of Discrimination: As previously detailed, the high command is no longer a national institution. It has been transformed into an ethnically based patronage network. For the common soldier from Amhara or Sidama, this means they are taking orders from a hierarchy that does not see them as equal citizens. Their lives are in the hands of generals whose primary loyalty is to the political survival of the ruling party, not to the welfare of every soldier under their command. They are sent into the most dangerous combat zones with outdated equipment and poor logistics, while the politically connected officers remain safely behind the lines. They are, in the most literal sense, cannon fodder: expendable assets used to absorb the brunt of the resistance until the regime’s political objectives are met.

   3. Fighting a War for a Peace They Will Never Enjoy: The common soldier is told they are fighting to ‘bring peace’ to regions in conflict. Yet, the peace they are bleeding for is a peace of domination, not reconciliation. They are dying to cement the power of a regime that will never grant their own families the dignity and representation they deserve. A soldier from Afar dies to consolidate a system that excludes Afars from leadership. A soldier from Gambella perishes for an army that has no general from Gambella. They are dying to protect the very system that oppresses them, fooled by the empty symbolism of a flag.

   4. Creating the Conditions for Resistance: This brutal exploitation of the common soldier is a primary reason why movements like FANO are not just justified but necessary. FANO are Freedom Fighters because they are often the very soldiers who defected after seeing this horrific deception firsthand, or the brothers of those who died for nothing. They understand that the real enemy is not a neighbouring ethnicity, but the corrupt command structure in Addis Ababa that treats human life with such contempt. FANO fights not against the idea of Ethiopia, but to liberate the Ethiopian soldier from being used as a slave in a master’s war. They fight to create a nation where a soldier’s oath is to the people, not to a dictator, and where their sacrifice would be for a true and lasting peace that benefits all.

   The common Ethiopian soldier is a hero betrayed. He is the son of the people, whose salt should melt in honour, but whose blood instead soaks into the earth as a testament to a regime’s cruelty. His plight is a rallying cry. It reminds us that the true battle is not between Ethiopians, but between the people of Ethiopia—soldiers and civilians alike—and the tyrannical clique that has seized the state and turned its weapons against its own citizens.

   Our duty is to honour the true sacrifice of these soldiers by ending the war that is consuming them. This means dismantling the discriminatory command structure and building a true national army that deserves their bravery. Until then, the fight for their dignity continues, not in the trenches of the regime’s making, but in the righteous struggle for freedom.

6. A Response to Legitimate Resistance: The Wolf Howls Loudest When the Shepherd is Armed

   There is a powerful Oromo wisdom that says, “Namni horate duulaa, hori duulatu na moosa” – “He who prepared for war attacks me, but my own prepared defence will shame him.” This speaks to a universal truth: aggression is often a response to strength, not weakness. It is the panicked lashing out of a tyrant who feels the ground shifting beneath his feet. The regime’s mass promotion of loyalist generals is not a sign of confidence. It is not a strategic masterstroke. It is a direct, desperate, and fearful reaction to the meteoric rise of popular resistance movements across Ethiopia, particularly the FANO Freedom Fighters in Amhara. This move is not designed to address a single one of the legitimate grievances that sparked the resistance; it is designed to build a more efficient hammer with which to crush it.

   This frantic consolidation of the high command reveals several critical truths about the regime’s nature and its perception of the Ethiopian people:

   1. An Admission of Political Bankruptcy: A legitimate government facing widespread popular dissent has a toolkit of political solutions. It offers dialogue, addresses grievances, initiates reforms, and seeks reconciliation. The fact that the regime’s first and only substantive response is a military one—reshuffling generals rather than policy—is a stunning admission of its own political bankruptcy. It concedes that it has no answers for the people’s demands for justice, representation, and self-determination. It cannot win the people’s hearts and minds, so its only option is to try and terrorise their bodies into submission. This military build-up is the action of a clique that knows it has lost the consent of the governed and now relies solely on the brute force of the governed’s own army, turned against them.

   2. The Fear of a People Awakened: The regime is not afraid of “militias”; it is terrified of an idea whose time has come. It is terrified of the FANO Freedom Fighters because they represent something it can never control: the unwavering will of a people to be free. FANO is not a foreign import or a rogue bandit group. It is the organic, grassroots manifestation of a population that has exhausted every peaceful avenue for redress and now, as a last resort, has taken up arms to defend its very existence. The regime’s promotions are a direct response to the effectiveness of this resistance. They have seen their outposts fall, their convoys ambushed, and their control over the countryside evaporate. Their answer is not to ask “why?” but to appoint more generals from their inner circle, hoping that loyalty can defeat conviction.

   3. The Strategy of Diversion and False Unity: The regime hopes to cloak its ethnic consolidation of power in the language of ‘national army building’. By presenting these promotions as a routine, nationalistic endeavour, it seeks to divert attention from the true cause of the conflict: its own oppressive policies. It wants the world and the Ethiopian people to see a government strengthening its military against ‘rebels’, rather than what is truly happening: a brutal regime arming its factional supporters to wage a war of subjugation against millions of disenfranchised citizens. They create the fire and then demand praise for selling water, all while promoting the arsonists to fire chiefs.

   4. A Futile Attempt to Stem the Tide: The regime operates under the archaic belief that military might alone can extinguish a righteous cause. It believes that by placing loyalists in command, it can finally deliver a knockout blow to the Freedom Fighters. This is a catastrophic miscalculation. You cannot kill an idea with a bullet. You cannot arrest a grievance with a general. Every village bombed, every civilian killed, every home destroyed in this escalated campaign does not weaken the resistance; it becomes a recruiting poster for it. It hardens the resolve of the people and validates the very reason FANO took up arms in the first place: to protect the population from a state that has become its greatest predator.

   The rise of FANO and other resistance groups is not the problem; it is the symptom. It is the fever that reveals the infection of injustice and tyranny within the Ethiopian state. The regime’s response—to treat the fever with more poison—only ensures the patient will grow sicker until the body revolts entirely.

   Our struggle, therefore, is legitimised by their response. Their panic confirms our purpose. Their new generals are a testament to our strength, not theirs. The adage holds true: they prepared for their war of oppression, but our prepared defence—our unwavering resolve, our deep knowledge of the land, and our just cause—will ultimately shame them. We fight not because we seek war, but because war was brought to our doorstep by a regime that understands only the language of force. We will continue to speak it, fluently, until they are forced to listen to the language of justice.

7. Public Cynicism is Warranted: The People’s Eyes Are Open

   A wise Somali proverb reminds us, “Nin aan garabsan lahayn, geed uma dhaqdo” – “A man without common sense does not lean against a tree.” It speaks to the innate wisdom of ordinary people, their ability to discern reality from illusion, and their instinct for self-preservation. The Ethiopian people, forged in the fires of countless struggles, possess this common sense in abundance. They are not naive subjects to be swayed by pompous ceremonies and hollow pronouncements from Addis Ababa. The deeply cynical public response to the regime’s mass promotion of generals is not a sign of ignorance; it is the ultimate sign of a populace that is politically conscious and brutally aware of the grim theatre being performed for their benefit. The people are not leaning against this rotten tree. They see it for what it is: a regime frantically building a fortress around itself, not a nation building a shield for its citizens.

   This widespread public cynicism, so vividly displayed on social media, is not merely opinion; it is a sophisticated political analysis from the ground. It is warranted for several undeniable reasons:

   1. The Performance is Transparent: For decades, Ethiopians have been subjected to the political theatre of dictators. They have seen the same script before—the grandiose speeches, the staged patriotism, the sudden ‘national’ campaigns that always seem to benefit the powerful. The current regime’s playbook is no different. The people can instantly distinguish between a genuine, merit-based military advancement and a partisan purge disguised as one. They see the same ethnic favouritism, the same political calculations, playing out in the military as they see in every other institution, from the courts to the kebele offices. To them, the promotion list is not a document of national honour; it is an organisational chart for the ruling party’s security wing.

   2. Social Media as the Uncontrolled Narrative: The regime controls the television airwaves and the major newspapers, filling them with sycophantic praise for the Leader. But they cannot control the vibrant, chaotic, and brutally honest discourse on social media. Platforms like Facebook and Telegram have become the modern-day equivalent of the village square, where the Emperor’s new clothes are openly mocked. The comments analysed—ranging from the Gambella man’s painful question to Jawar Mohammed’s sharp political critique—prove that the public understands the move’s true purpose: a pre-emptive strike against internal dissent and a preparation for wider war against the people. This is where the regime’s narrative dies, exposed by the collective wisdom of the crowd.

   3. The Chasm Between Word and Deed: The Deputy Prime Minister speaks of ‘sacrifice,’ while the regime’s new generals are rewarded for overseeing the sacrifice of others. He speaks of ‘building the army,’ while the army is used to bulldoze the homes of its own citizens. The people see this chasm every day. They see a soldier from Wollo dying in a pointless conflict, while a politically connected officer in Addis gets a promotion. This hypocrisy is not lost on anyone. The public’s cynicism is a direct reflection of the regime’s own duplicity. You cannot preach unity while practising exclusion and expect to be believed.

   4. The Contrast with Legitimate Resistance: The people’s cynicism towards the state army is matched by their growing respect for the Freedom Fighters of FANO. This is not because they glorify war, but because they see a stark contrast. They see the state’s army, a top-down instrument of oppression, versus FANO, a bottom-up movement of popular defence. They see one force that takes from the people and one that claims to be of the people. The legitimacy of FANO is earned through shared sacrifice and a common cause; the regime’s authority is imposed through fear and manipulation. The people are not cynical about all armed groups; they are deeply cynical about the one that has betrayed its oath to protect them.

   This public cynicism is therefore a powerful form of resistance in itself. It is a refusal to be manipulated. It is a mental and emotional withdrawal of consent from a regime that has proven itself to be illegitimate. It is the common sense of a people who refuse to lean against a tree they know is diseased and destined to fall.

   The regime mistakes this silence in the streets for compliance. It is not. It is the quiet, seething judgement of a nation waiting for its moment. The cynical comments on social media are the digital whispers of a revolution of the mind, which always precedes the revolution of the state. The people are not fooled. Their eyes are open, and they are watching. And in their justified cynicism lies the certain knowledge that this theatre cannot run for much longer. The curtain will fall.

8. The Regime’s True Language: The Theft of Sacred Words

   There is an Amhara adage that cuts to the heart of deception: “ዝንብር አይበላም የሚያለውን ቃል” – “A fly does not eat the word it speaks.” It means that empty words, devoid of true meaning or action, are worthless; they are sounds that vanish without nourishment, without consequence. This is the essence of the regime’s language. The Deputy Prime Minister’s solemn invocation of ‘sacrifice’ and ‘giving life’ during the promotion of his hand-picked elites is the most cruel and cynical irony. He speaks of a feast of patriotism, but his words are like the fly’s—hollow, insubstantial, and designed to deceive. This language is not for the new generals in their polished boots; it is a weaponised narrative meant for the low-ranking soldier in the mud, a deliberate and vile manipulation of our deepest cultural and patriotic values.

   This perversion of language is a key tactic of tyranny, and it operates on several levels:

   1. The Theft of Sacred Concepts: In Ethiopian culture, and particularly within a military context, ‘sacrifice’ and ‘giving one’s life’ are not mere words. They are sacred concepts. They evoke the ultimate price paid by patriots throughout our history to preserve our sovereignty. They are meant to honour the humble soldier who bleeds in the dirt of a foreign field or the streets of his own village, defending a principle greater than himself. By applying this hallowed language to a room full of political appointees receiving promotions and privileges, the regime empties these words of their true meaning. It steals the honour owed to the truly sacrificed and pins it, like a cheap medal, on the chests of those who orchestrate the sacrifice of others. It is a spiritual crime.

   2. A Language for the Cannon Fodder, Not the Commanders: The Deputy Prime Minister’s message was a performance with two audiences. For the new generals, the real message was one of congratulation, loyalty, and shared power within the party structure. But for the masses and the common soldier, the message was a calculated piece of propaganda. It is designed to dress up a cold, political manoeuvre in the emotional garb of national service. The regime hopes that by using these words, they can mask the true nature of the event—which was the strengthening of a partisan palace guard—and instead present it as a moment of national pride and military renewal. They are using the vocabulary of collective struggle to disguise an act of exclusive power consolidation.

   3. Exposing the Deep Cynicism of the Regime: This manipulation reveals what the regime truly thinks of the Ethiopian people. It believes we are foolish enough to be swayed by rhetoric, that we cannot see the glaring disconnect between word and deed. They see the profound respect our society holds for martyrdom and believe they can harness it like a resource, directing popular sentiment to serve their narrow interests. They offer the word ‘sacrifice’ to the family of a slain soldier from Gondar while offering the reality of power and wealth to a loyalist officer from Addis. This is not just hypocrisy; it is a deep-seated contempt for the intelligence and the emotional depth of the nation they claim to lead.

   4. The Freedom Fighter’s Reclamation of Meaning: This is why the struggle of FANO and other Freedom Fighters is as much a cultural and philosophical battle as it is a military one. We are fighting to reclaim our language, to restore the true meaning of words like ‘sacrifice,’ ‘patriotism,’ and ‘freedom’ from the regime that has corrupted them. When a FANO fighter falls, his community understands his sacrifice not through a politician’s speech, but through his concrete actions to defend their homes, their dignity, and their right to self-determination. His sacrifice is real, immediate, and honoured by the people, not exploited by the state.

   The regime’s true language is not found in its speeches, but in its actions. Its true vocabulary is written in the arrest warrants of journalists, the drone strikes on villages, the ethnically stacked promotions, and the empty stomachs of a people impoverished by corruption. The flowery words about sacrifice are merely the translation they provide for their crimes, hoping we will be fooled by the dialect.

   But we are not fooled. We hear the hollowness of the fly’s buzz. We know that true sacrifice requires no press conference. It is written in the blood of the people on the soil they love, and it is remembered not by the decrees of a dictator, but by the silent, unwavering respect of those who are left to carry on the fight. The regime may have the loudspeakers, but we, the people and our Freedom Fighters, hold the truth. And in the end, truth is the only language that history understands.

9. The Ghost of Past Purges: A Cycle of Fear and Failure

   There is a sombre Tigrayan adage that whispers a timeless truth: “ዛፍ በድሮ የተቆረጠ አረንጓዴ ቅርንጫፍ ቢያስበርጥም፣ ግንዱ ያስታውሳል” – “Even if a fresh branch sprouts from a tree cut long ago, the trunk remembers.” Ethiopia’s history is a trunk scarred by the axe of political purges, and the memory is long. The recent promotion of generals is not an act of growth; it is the ominous sound of that axe being sharpened once more. The suggestion that these newly anointed officers will soon retire seasoned veterans is a classic, brutal tactic of insecure regimes. It signals not reform, but an impending political cleansing of the officer corps—a purge to eliminate those deemed ideologically impure or insufficiently loyal, sacrificing the nation’s security on the altar of one man’s paranoia.

   This grim cycle is a defining feature of Ethiopian political history, and its return reveals the regime’s true nature:

   1. The Mechanics of the Loyalty Purge: A stable, confident nation values its military experience. It understands that a grizzled general who has fought multiple wars is an institutional treasure, a repository of strategic knowledge and hard-won lessons. A fearful regime, however, sees that same experienced officer as a threat. His loyalty is to the institution and the constitution, not solely to the whims of the current ruler. His expertise gives him independence of thought, making him less susceptible to blind obedience. Therefore, he must be removed. The promotion of a new, loyalist class is the first step. They are given rank not for their strategic brilliance, but for their proven fealty. Their first command is not against an external enemy; it is to oversee the retirement—the professional execution—of their own more capable superiors. This is how you transform an army of professionals into a party militia with medals.

   2. The Ghosts of Derg and EPRDF: The trunk of the Ethiopian state remembers this pattern all too well. The Derg regime was infamous for its paranoid purges of the officer corps, liquidating capable leaders to ensure absolute political compliance, a move that ultimately crippled its military effectiveness. The EPRDF, though more subtle, also engaged in systematic ethnic and political vetting to ensure the army’s top brass was loyal to its revolutionary democratic vision. The current regime, which promised to break from this toxic past, is now repeating its darkest chapters. It is proving that the method of control matters more than the ideology; the tool of purge is used by any hand that grasps the axe of absolute power. The names change, but the ghost of the purge remains the same.

   3. The Catastrophic Loss of Institutional Memory: When you purge experienced officers, you do not just remove individuals; you erase the living memory of the army itself. You lose the generals who understand logistics over vast distances, the commanders who know the terrain and the people, the strategists who have learned from past victories and defeats. This creates a hollow army—top-heavy with political appointees but starved of real strategic depth. This loss directly compromises national security. It leads to the kind of tactical blunders and catastrophic losses of life we have witnessed in recent conflicts, where soldiers led by incompetent but loyal commanders were sent to be slaughtered. The regime is willing to gut Ethiopia’s defence capabilities to protect itself from a phantom coup.

   4. The Fuel for Righteous Resistance: This tactic of purge is a primary driver of legitimate resistance. When a decorated officer, who has served his nation for decades, is forced into retirement to make way for a partisan loyalist, he sees his life’s work dishonoured. When mid-level officers see that merit and experience are no longer valued, but loyalty to a single party is the only path to advancement, the institution’s moral authority collapses. Many of the most strategic and capable members of FANO and other Freedom Fighter movements are precisely these purged officers and the soldiers who followed them. They are not rebels; they are the guardians of the army’s discarded professional ethos. They took to the hills not to destroy the army, but to save its soul from a regime that is systematically destroying it from within. Their resistance is an attempt to protect the very idea of a professional, national military from being completely consumed by politics.

   The regime believes these purges will consolidate its power. In the short term, they may. But the adage holds true: the trunk remembers. The purges of the past never brought stability; they only bred deeper resentment, fostered clandestine opposition, and ultimately led to the downfall of the purgers themselves. By reaching for this same rusty tool, the current regime is not writing a new chapter; it is blindly re-enacting a tragedy whose ending is already known. It is creating its own opposition, forging its own grave diggers from the ranks of the very best it has cast aside. The ghost of past purges does not haunt the people; it haunts the palace, and its message is a warning of inevitable downfall.

10. The Eritrean Shadow: The Nation’s Wound and the Betrayal of a Generation

    A profound Oromo adage states, “Hanti duuba gabrooma, lubbuu duuba hin gabroofne” – “We may be slaves to property, but we are not slaves to the soul.” It speaks to an indomitable spirit, a core of dignity that no external force can ever truly conquer. For generations, the defence of that soul—the sovereignty and honour of Ethiopia—was the sacred duty of every patriot. To see that same sovereignty now bargained away to a historic adversary is a betrayal that stains the soul of the nation itself. The nervous, cynical references to Eritrean television (“Red Sea Zimetu”) and “Shabiya” in the public discourse are not mere gossip; they are the vocalised anguish of a people who are acutely, painfully aware that their regime has entered into a compromising alliance that has gutted our national dignity and mortgaged our future to a foreign strongman.

    This Eritrean shadow, long and dark, falls across Ethiopia because of a conscious choice by the Abiy Ahmed regime, and its implications are catastrophic:

    1. The Ultimate Betrayal of a Sacred Cause: For decades, the Ethiopian state, across its different governments, mobilised its people and its resources around a central, unifying national project: defending the nation’s territorial integrity and sovereignty against all threats. Thousands of Ethiopians, from every corner of the nation, sacrificed their lives specifically to prevent the very scenario we see today—the dominance of Eritrean influence over Ethiopian affairs. The regime’s alliance with Isaias Afwerki is therefore not just a foreign policy shift; it is a spiritual betrayal. It makes a mockery of the sacrifice of every soldier who fell on the fields of Badme and elsewhere, telling them and their families that their blood was shed not for Ethiopia’s eternal defence, but for the temporary convenience of a politician who would later embrace their killer.

    2. The Architecture of a Vassal State: The regime’s dependence on Eritrea is not a partnership of equals. It is the relationship between a patron and a client. “Shabiya” (a colloquial term for the PFDJ, Eritrea’s ruling party) does not offer its support out of charity. It demands a price. That price is Ethiopian sovereignty. We have seen Eritrean forces operate with impunity on Ethiopian soil, intervening in a civil war without a single vote of approval from the Ethiopian parliament or people. This violates every principle of national self-determination. The regime in Addis Ababa, in its weakness and illegitimacy, has become a subcontractor for Eritrean interests, allowing a foreign power to dictate military and political strategy within our own borders. This is the very definition of a compromised state.

    3. The Weaponisation of a Foreign Power Against the People: This alliance is not aimed at external enemies; it is turned inward. The Eritrean shadow is most darkly cast over the Ethiopian people themselves. Eritrea’s notoriously brutal military doctrine, its disregard for human rights, and its desire to see a permanently weakened Ethiopia have become tools for the regime. It is widely believed that Eritrean forces have been instrumental in some of the conflict’s most devastating campaigns, serving as a deniable, ruthless instrument for the Addis Ababa regime to use against its own population. The regime fights its people with a foreign knife, outsourcing its oppression because it cannot stomach the political cost of using its own army exclusively for such a grim task.

    4. The People’s Awareness and the Freedom Fighter’s Resolve: The public’s nervous jokes about Eritrean television are a defence mechanism against a horrifying truth. They know. They see the irony of a government that rose to power chanting “medemer” (coming together) now relying on the most divisive foreign force imaginable. This awareness is what fuels the moral certainty of the resistance. The struggle of FANO and other Freedom Fighters is thus elevated from a domestic political dispute to a national liberation struggle in its own right. They are fighting not only against a tyrannical regime in Addis Ababa but also against its foreign backers who seek to keep Ethiopia weak and subservient. They fight to reclaim the sovereignty that has been sold off, to restore the dignity that has been trampled, and to ensure that the soul of Ethiopia is never made a slave to a foreign power.

    The Eritrean shadow is the deepest wound of this conflict. It is a testament to the regime’s utter lack of patriotic principle and its desperate hunger to cling to power at any cost, even the cost of the nation’s honour. But the adage reminds us of the people’s spirit. We may be temporarily shackled by this betrayal, but our soul—our collective will to be a free and sovereign people—remains unbroken. It is this spirit that the Freedom Fighters embody, and it is why they will never lay down their arms until every inch of Ethiopian soil is free from the shadow of foreign domination and the tyranny that invited it in.

11. The Corruption of the Spirit: When the Uniform No longer Guards the Soul

    There is an ancient Ge’ez proverb that speaks to the core of moral character: “ኅሩይ እምነት ከመ ኅሩይ ወርቅ” – “A gentle faith is better than fine gold.” It speaks to a truth that every Ethiopian understands: that the true wealth of a person, and of a nation, is found in its integrity, its honour, and its unwavering principles. For an army, this ‘gentle faith’ is its team spirit—the sacred bond of trust, honour, and shared purpose that makes a military more than just a collection of armed individuals. The regime in Addis Ababa has not merely corrupted institutions; it has corrupted this very spirit. The focus on titles, promotions, and positions is a deliberate smokescreen to distract from a profound moral decay that has rotted the Ethiopian National Defence Force from the head down. The uniform still bears the insignia of the state, but it no longer guards the soul of the nation.

    This corruption of the spirit is the most insidious weapon in the regime’s arsenal, and it manifests in devastating ways:

    1. The Perversion of Merit into Patronage: A true army honours merit, valour, and competence. A soldier’s worth is measured by their ability to lead, to strategise, and to protect their comrades and their country. The regime has systematically replaced this meritocratic system with a culture of raw patronage. Promotion is no longer a reward for service to the nation; it is a payment for loyalty to the party. This creates an officer corps not of the most capable, but of the most compliant. It installs leaders who are skilled in political intrigue but may be incompetent in military strategy, directly jeopardising the lives of the soldiers they command and the security of the nation they are unfit to protect.

    2. The Institutionalisation of Greed: When the path to power is through corruption, the entire institution becomes corrupt. Logistics contracts are awarded to cronies, not the most competitive bidder, leading to soldiers receiving substandard equipment, rotten food, and inadequate supplies. Resources meant for the frontline are syphonned off into the pockets of the politically connected. This is not just theft; it is a direct attack on the fighting capacity of the army and a betrayal of every soldier who relies on that support. The regime has turned the military into a vast patronage network, a business venture for the elite, with the blood of common soldiers as its currency.

    3. The Erosion of Trust and Comradeship: The bedrock of any effective fighting force is the unshakeable trust between soldiers and their commanders, and between comrades in arms. This regime’s ethnic stacking and political purges have shattered this trust entirely. How can a soldier from Amhara or Sidama trust a commander who was promoted specifically for his ethnic loyalty to a party that views that soldier’s community as a threat? How can officers plan strategy when they fear their colleague may be a political informant? The army has been poisoned by suspicion and division, rendering it weak, fractious, and unable to function as a cohesive national body. It has been transformed from a brotherhood into a den of spies and opportunists.

    4. The Creation of a Hollow Force: The focus on political loyalty over military capability creates a hollow force—a paper tiger. It may have shiny new titles and generals, but it lacks the moral fibre, the strategic genius, and the united will to defend the nation effectively. This explains its brutal failure against the Tigray Defence Forces and its inability to quell the popular resistance across the country. It is an army that can terrorise unarmed civilians in a village but cannot win a pitched battle against a determined and morally righteous opponent. Its spirit has been broken by corruption, and without spirit, an army is just an armed mob.

    5. The Stark Contrast with the Freedom Fighter: This moral decay is the very reason movements like FANO are not ‘militias’; they are Freedom Fighters. They represent a reclamation of that lost spirit. Their strength does not come from titles or stolen resources. It comes from the purity of their cause—the defence of their people. Their legitimacy is earned through shared sacrifice, not political connection. They are led by those who have proven their valour and their commitment on the battlefield, not in the political salons of Addis Ababa. While the state’s army is corroded by greed and cynicism, the Freedom Fighters are forged in the fire of necessity and a powerful, uncorrupted sense of justice.

    The regime’s generals may have stolen the gold braid of rank, but they have lost the ‘gentle faith’. They have the titles, but they command no real respect. They have the weapons, but they have no honour. Our fight, therefore, is not just a military one; it is a spiritual crusade to cleanse our nation of this moral disease. It is to restore the principle that an army’s duty is to serve the people, not to prey upon them. It is to ensure that the uniform of Ethiopia once again becomes a symbol of integrity, not corruption. The corruption of the spirit is the regime’s greatest weakness, and the restoration of it is our greatest strength.

12. The Betrayal of Federalism: The Prison Built with the Tools of Liberation

    There is a powerful Oromo adage that states, “Aannan daa’imman ofii guutuu, kan biraa hin guutu” – “The milk that is enough for one’s own children is not enough for the children of others.” It speaks to the core of self-determination and the right of a people to govern their own affairs, manage their own resources, and nurture their own future. This wisdom is the very soul of true federalism. The current regime in Addis Ababa has not merely failed to uphold this principle; it has performed a breathtaking act of ideological theft. It has taken the language, the structures, and the very promise of federalism—a system designed to empower Ethiopia’s diverse nations—and twisted it into a prison of hyper-centralised control. The recent list of military promotions is not just a personnel change; it is the architectural blueprint of this prison, proving that all key levers of coercion are violently centralised under the control of a single group, masquerading behind the hollow facade of a federal system.

    This betrayal is not an oversight; it is the central plank of the regime’s strategy for domination.

    1. The Hollowing Out of a Promise: True federalism is built on a delicate and sacred balance: a strong central government responsible for national sovereignty and common goods, and robust regional states empowered with significant self-governance, including control over their own security and administration. The regime has systematically eviscerated this balance. It talks ceaselessly of ‘unity’ while using that very word as a cudgel to beat down regional rights. It has illegally dismantled regional security structures and stripped states of their constitutional authority, all while pretending the federal framework is still intact. The message is clear: you can have your regional flags and cultural festivals, but real power—the power of the gun, the power of the purse, the power to command—resides solely with the ruling party in Addis Ababa. This is federalism as a cruel joke.

    2. The Centralisation of Coercion: The military promotion list is the ultimate evidence of this betrayal. A genuine federal state would strive for a military command that reflects the nation’s diversity, ensuring that all peoples feel represented and protected by the national defence force. This list demonstrates the exact opposite: a shocking ethnic stacking that ensures the ultimate instrument of state violence is loyal not to the constitution, but to the political agenda of one faction. The army, the federal police, and the intelligence apparatus are no longer national institutions. They have been transformed into the armed wing of the Prosperity Party, tasked not with defending Ethiopia’s borders, but with enforcing the party’s will upon restive regions. The ‘federal’ government is no longer a partner to the regions; it is their jailer.

    3. The Weaponisation of ‘Unity’: The regime uses the noble concept of ‘Ethiopian unity’ as a weapon to justify its centralisation of power. Any demand for the practical implementation of constitutional rights—be it from Tigray, Amhara, Oromia, or the Southern Nations—is instantly branded as ‘separatism’ or ‘anti-unity’. This is a deliberate and cynical distortion. The peoples of Ethiopia are not asking to break apart the country; they are asking for the rights of self-governance and equitable representation that the federal constitution itself promises them. The regime’s violent refusal to honour this promise exposes its true project: not a voluntary union of equals, but a forced assimilation under the hegemony of one group.

    4. The Birth of Righteous Resistance: This wholesale betrayal of the federal covenant is the primary reason for the emergence of Freedom Fighters. Groups like FANO are not “militias”; they are the direct and inevitable consequence of a state that has broken its own foundational rules. When the central government abolishes regional police forces, illegally intervenes in regional administration, and then uses its ethnically purged army to occupy and terrorise territories, the people are left with a stark choice: submit to tyranny or organise their own defence. FANO is the embodiment of a people’s right to defend the autonomy that was promised to them on paper but stolen at gunpoint. They are not fighting to destroy Ethiopia; they are fighting to save the promise of a genuine, multi-ethnic federation from a regime that has hijacked the state.

    The regime’s ‘federalism’ is a prison. Its walls are built with the very bricks of self-determination that were meant to construct a house of freedom for all. The promotion list is a roll call of the prison guards.

    But the adage holds a warning for the jailers. The milk of power they hoard for their own children will never be enough to nourish the millions of others they have imprisoned. You cannot build a stable nation on the hunger and anger of its people. The betrayal of federalism is the regime’s original sin, and from it flows all the resistance and instability it now desperately tries to crush with its centralised army. That army may be large, but it fights for a lie. The Freedom Fighters may be outgunned, but they fight for a truth: that Ethiopia can only be strong when all of its children are free, respected, and truly represented.

13. The International Community’s Blind Eye: A Feast of Hypocrisy While Ethiopia Bleeds

    There is an Amhara adage that speaks to the pain of neglected warnings: “የተከለውን አለዝቶ የተዘለውን አከለ” – “He neglected what was planted for him and went to plant what was neglected.” It describes a profound folly: ignoring the very thing that sustains you in order to pursue a pointless distraction. This is the precise folly of the international community. While Ethiopia burns, its foundations crumbling from the cancer of a partisan and predatory army, foreign embassies and organisations wring their hands over the symptoms—the ‘instability’—while deliberately ignoring the root cause. They issue statements calling for ‘restraint’ and ‘dialogue’, all the while turning a blind eye to the original sin: the deliberate destruction of a national, neutral army that could be a trusted guardian for all Ethiopians. They are neglecting the planted field of justice and instead trying to plant seeds in the barren soil of the regime’s empty promises.

    This wilful ignorance is not a passive mistake; it is an active policy choice with devastating consequences.

    1. The Fetish for ‘Stability’ Over Justice: For the international community, ‘stability’ is a codeword. It does not mean peace, justice, or prosperity for the Ethiopian people. It means a predictable environment for their investments, diplomatic engagements, and regional security calculations. A strongman who can control the population with an iron fist provides this ‘stability’, even if that control is achieved through mass murder, starvation, and ethnic cleansing. They would rather deal with a single, predictable dictator than with the complex, messy, but genuine aspirations of a diverse population. Therefore, they will never genuinely pressure the regime to create a neutral army, because a truly national military accountable to the people would be a check on the regime’s power—and thus, in their twisted logic, a source of ‘instability’.

    2. The Consuming Fire They Refuse to See: The international community treats the symptoms—the conflicts in Amhara, Oromia, and elsewhere—as isolated fires to be put out. They refuse to see that these are all flames shooting from a single, raging inferno: the politicisation and ethnic weaponisation of the state. By focusing solely on ceasefire talks and humanitarian aid, they are throwing cups of water on a blaze fuelled by a petrol tanker. The root cause, the petrol tanker, is the army itself. An army that is not a guardian but an occupier. An army that is not neutral but the armed enforcer of one group’s hegemony. Until this institution is radically reformed into a professional, representative body, no ceasefire will hold. The international community’s refusal to name and address this truth makes them complicit in the cycle of violence.

    3. The Legitimisation of a False Narrative: By engaging solely with the regime in Addis Ababa and treating its pronouncements as legitimate, the international community reinforces its false narrative. When diplomats meet with the generals from the promotion list, they bestow upon them a credibility they do not deserve. They treat them as representatives of a ‘state army’ rather than what they are: the command structure of a partisan militia. This legitimisation is a dagger in the back of the Ethiopian people. It tells the regime that its actions have no real consequences, and tells the oppressed that the world does not see their suffering as important enough to challenge its comfortable relationships.

    4. The Abandonment of Principle for Geopolitics: This blind eye is driven by cold, hard interests. The Horn of Africa is a chessboard for global powers, and Ethiopia is the king. For some, the regime is a useful bulwark against their rivals. For others, its cooperation on migration, counter-terrorism, or trade is more valuable than the lives of millions of Ethiopians. Principles of human rights, self-determination, and democracy are cheerfully abandoned at the border for a photo opportunity with the Prime Minister and a favourable business contract. The Ethiopian people are mere collateral damage in a larger geopolitical game.

    5. The Freedom Fighter’s Solitary Resolve: This global hypocrisy is the final proof that the Ethiopian people can rely on no one but themselves. The struggle of FANO and other Freedom Fighters is thus cast into stark relief. They are not just fighting a regime; they are fighting a global system of indifference. Their resistance is a declaration that if the world will not hold the regime accountable for destroying the national army and terrorising its people, then the people themselves will become their own army. They will become the guardians that the state abandoned. They fight not because they want to, but because every other door—every appeal to justice, every plea to the international community—has been slammed shut.

    The international community may have the luxury of looking away. They may issue their statements from air-conditioned offices in New York, Geneva, and Brussels. But we, on the ground, do not have that luxury. We live with the consequences of their blindness. Their neglect of the ‘planted field’—the fundamental need for a just and neutral state—has forced us to pick up the rifle to plant the seeds of our own survival.

    Their statements call for ‘stability’. We fight for justice, knowing that the former is impossible without the latter. And when history judges this chapter, it will record not only the crimes of the regime, but also the deafening silence of a world that chose to look away.

14. The Alternative of FANO: The Shepherd When the State Becomes the Wolf

    There is an Amhara adage that defines the very essence of community and protection: “የራስ ጠባቂ ባይኖር እግዚአብሔር አይፈጥርም” – “If there were no self-guardian, God would not create.” It is a profound declaration that self-preservation and the defence of one’s community is a natural, sacred, and fundamental right—a right bestowed by nature itself. The rise of the FANO Freedom Fighters is the living embodiment of this principle. They have emerged not as a rogue militia, but as the rightful, popular guardians who have stepped into the vacuum created by a state that has utterly abandoned its most basic duty: to protect all of its people. To label them as the cause of conflict is a vicious lie. They are the symptom—the inevitable and righteous reaction—to the state’s catastrophic failure and its transformation from a protector into a predator.

    This reality is understood in the very bones of every Ethiopian who lives under the regime’s terror:

    1. The Collapse of the Social Contract: The foundational bargain between any state and its citizens is simple: the people cede their individual right to use force to the state, and in return, the state guarantees their security and upholds their rights. The Abiy Ahmed regime has shattered this contract. It has not merely failed to protect citizens from harm; it has become the primary source of that harm. Its army, once a national institution, now operates as an occupational force in regions like Amhara, terrorising populations, executing civilians, and destroying livelihoods. When the state itself becomes the wolf at the door, the people have not just the right, but the solemn duty, to become their own shepherds. FANO is that response. They are the organised manifestation of a community’s inalienable right to self-defence.

    2. An Organic, Popular Movement, Not a Created Militia: The regime and its international apologists deliberately use the term ‘militia’ to diminish FANO, to paint them as an irregular, illegitimate band of armed men. This is a gross distortion. A militia is often a group created by a political actor. FANO was not created; it emerged. It grew organically from the soil of mass discontent, from the funerals of murdered youths, and from the ashes of burned villages. Its ranks are filled by university students, farmers, teachers, and yes, even defecting soldiers who refused to fire on their own people. Their support network is the entire population, which provides them with food, shelter, and intelligence because they see FANO not as an attacking force, but as their only remaining shield. This deep, popular legitimacy is what separates a Freedom Fighter from a mere militiaman.

    3. The Symptom, Not the Cause: The regime’s propaganda tirelessly claims that its brutal military campaigns are a ‘response’ to FANO’s instability. This reverses the true order of events. The timeline of history is clear: the regime’s aggression came first. Its illegal disarmament campaigns, its assassination of popular Amhara leaders, its rhetoric branding an entire ethnicity as a ‘cancer’, and its withdrawal of federal security from areas under attack by armed groups—these actions created the vacuum of terror. FANO is the consequence of these actions, not the cause. They are the fever that reveals the infection of state-sponsored violence and exclusion. To attack FANO and ignore the conditions that created it is like a doctor trying to cure a patient by breaking the thermometer that shows a high temperature.

    4. Upholding the True Spirit of Federalism: In a genuine federation, the primary duty of the central government is to protect the constituent states and ensure their rights are respected. The current regime has done the opposite; it has violently sought to dismantle regional autonomy and self-governance. In this context, FANO’s resistance is a fight to uphold the original, constitutional promise of Ethiopian federalism: the right of a people to exist, to self-administration, and to live in security within the larger union. They are not fighting to break apart Ethiopia; they are fighting to save it from a centralist regime that is destroying the federal covenant through brute force.

    The international community, in its wilful ignorance, may see only ‘armed men’. But we see the truth. We see the shopkeeper, who picks up a rifle only after federal troops destroy his shop. We see the farmer who joins the fight only after the security services disappear his son. We see the idealistic student who takes to the hills only when all peaceful avenues for protest are sealed shut.

    FANO is the terrible, necessary answer to a terrible question: Who guards us when the guardians become the monsters? The adage provides the answer: we guard ourselves. They are the defenders of the defenceless, the voice of the silenced, and the proof that even when the state fails, the spirit of the people will never be broken. They are not the cause of the conflict; they are the clearest possible evidence that the conflict was begun by a regime that forgot it was meant to serve, not to slaughter.

15. The Regime’s Inevitable Downfall: The House of Cards Built on a Foundation of Sand

    There is an Amhara adage that speaks to the folly of building on a weak foundation: “የሰንጠረዥ እግር ብዙ አይደለም፣ አንድ ቢቀራረብ ያንቀጠቅጣል” – “A table’s legs are not many; if one becomes weak, it begins to wobble.” A structure, no matter how imposing it seems, is only as strong as the integrity of each component that supports it. The Abiy Ahmed regime, in its desperate hunger for control, has forgotten this ancient wisdom. It has attempted to build a mighty army not on the solid rock of national doctrine and merit, but on the shifting, treacherous sands of ethnic patronage and political loyalty. This structure is not just weak; it is inherently fragile, destined to wobble and then collapse under the slightest pressure. Its downfall is not a matter of if, but when. History’s relentless tide is already washing away its foundation, and we are witnessing the first, unmistakable cracks.

    This inevitable collapse is engineered into the very design of the regime’s project:

    1. The Fatal Flaw of Patronage Over Profession: A professional army is a single, tempered blade, its strength derived from the quality of its steel and the skill of its smith—its unified training, doctrine, and merit-based command. The regime’s army is a brittle collection of fragments, held together not by shared purpose but by the cheap glue of patronage, promotions, and ethnic favouritism. This is its fatal flaw. When true pressure is applied—not in a parade ground, but in the brutal reality of combat—this glue dissolves. Soldiers have no deep loyalty to a command structure they know was bought, not earned. They will not lay down their lives for a general they perceive as a political appointee, not a strategic leader. This army may terrorise civilians, but it cannot win the hearts of its own soldiers or a sustained war against a determined, ideologically cohesive force.

    2. The Internal Fractures Are Already Forming: The wobbling table leg is already evident. We see it in the low morale and mass surrenders of federal troops. We see it in the defections of officers and soldiers who, upon realising they are being used as cannon fodder in a political game, choose to lay down their arms or even join the resistance. We see it in the growing distrust between units and the rumours of internal purges, as the regime’s paranoia turns inwards, suspecting its own creations of disloyalty. An army that is purging its own experienced officers is an army actively sawing off its own limbs. It is a sign of profound weakness, not strength.

    3. The Illusion of Unity Versus the Power of Conviction: The regime’s army fights for a salary and out of fear of its own commanders. The Freedom Fighters of FANO fight for their land, their families, their dignity, and a cause they believe in with every fibre of their being. This is a contest between a mercenary spirit and a sacrificial one. History has proven, time and again, from Vietnam to Afghanistan, that the will of a people defending their homes is an indomitable force that eventually outlasts the mightiest machinery of oppression. The regime’s soldiers are playing a role; the Freedom Fighters are living their purpose. One is temporary; the other is eternal.

    4. The Historical Inevitability: The regime is not making a new mistake; it is repeating an old one. Every dictator in Ethiopia’s modern history has tried to create a loyalist army to enforce their will. The Derg tried it. Mengistu’s officer corps was rife with political commissars and purges. And where is the Derg now? It collapsed from within, shattered by its own internal contradictions and the righteous anger of the people. The EPRDF itself came to power by exploiting the fractures in the Derg’s army. The current regime, which is but a hollow reincarnation of the EPRDF’s worst tendencies, is blindly walking the same path to the same precipice. It has learned nothing.

    The regime’s downfall is written in the discontent of its own ranks. It is written in the resolve of the Freedom Fighters, who multiply with every act of state violence. It is written in the silent condemnation of a million Ethiopians who watch and wait.

    Their house of cards may stand for a time, propped up by foreign support and internal propaganda. But it cannot withstand the winds of truth and the unwavering spirit of a people who have decided they will be free. The table is wobbling. The legs cannot hold. When it falls, it will not be an invasion that topples it, but its own rotten, corrupted, and fractured foundation crumbling from within. Our struggle is to be ready for that day, to ensure that what rises from the rubble is not another monster, but a nation rebuilt on the foundation it always deserved: justice, merit, and true equality for all its people.

16. The Power of Information: The Regime’s Digital Waterloo

    There is a powerful Oromo adage that states, “Araara baasan du’a, dhugaan baasan du’aa hin argatu” – “He who hides with a lie will die, but he who hides with the truth will not be found.” It speaks to the eternal, unconquerable nature of truth. A lie, no matter how powerfully enforced, is a fragile thing, destined to be exposed and to perish. The truth, however, has a resilience all its own; it can be suppressed, hidden, and attacked, but it can never be truly eradicated. The vibrant, critical, and immediate public discourse exploding across Ethiopian social media is the living proof of this adage. It is the digital manifestation of a people’s truth rising to confront the regime’s fortress of lies. It proves, beyond any doubt, that the age of totalitarian control over information is over. The regime, with all its intelligence agencies, propaganda networks, and censors, cannot control the narrative forever. The dam has broken, and the truth is flooding out.

    This power of information is the regime’s most unexpected and formidable enemy, and it operates on several decisive fronts:

    1. The Bypassing of the Official Narrative: The regime controls the Ethiopian Broadcasting Corporation, the Ethiopian Herald, and all state-owned media. They can fill the airwaves with images of the Prime Minister’s speeches and the Deputy Prime Minister’s praise for newly promoted generals. But this official narrative is now a monologue echoing in an empty room. The real conversation—the vibrant, messy, and brutally honest debate—is happening on Facebook, Telegram, Twitter, and YouTube. Here, the regime’s carefully constructed lies are dismantled in real-time. A promotion list is instantly analysed for ethnic bias. A triumphant military communiqué is immediately contrasted with video evidence of defeat and retreat. The state media’s version of reality is held up against the people’s lived experience and exposed as a pathetic fiction.

    2. The Weaponisation of Cynicism and Humour: The people’s resistance is not always expressed with solemn manifestos. Often, it is delivered through searing cynicism, biting satire, and dark humour. The nervous jokes about Eritrean television, the mocking nicknames for officials, the satirical memes that reduce grandiose propaganda to absurdity—these are not trivial. They are powerful psychological weapons. They strip the regime of its aura of authority and fear. They transform a terrifying security apparatus into an object of ridicule. This collective laughter is a declaration that the people are not afraid anymore. They have seen behind the curtain and found the great and powerful Oz to be a frightened little man. This cultural shift, facilitated by social media, is as damaging to the regime as any military setback.

    3. The Creation of a Collective Consciousness: Before the digital age, dissent was isolated. A person in Gondar or Jimma might feel alone in their opposition, unaware that thousands across the country shared their fury. Social media has shattered this isolation. It has created a digital andinet, a unity of purpose among the oppressed. It allows for the instantaneous sharing of evidence—of atrocities, of corruption, of resistance victories—forging a collective consciousness and a shared narrative that is owned by the people, not the state. This is how a single question from a citizen in Gambella—“Where are we in this list?”—can become a national rallying cry against injustice. It proves to every individual that they are part of a vast, nationwide movement of resistance.

    4. The Amplification of the Freedom Fighter’s Cause: The regime desperately tries to label FANO as “militias” and “terrorists” in the official press. But on social media, this label is rejected and inverted. Here, videos circulate of Freedom Fighters protecting civilians, of their community support, and of their military successes. Their true purpose—as popular defenders against state terror—is amplified and legitimised directly to a national and international audience, completely bypassing the regime’s disinformation machinery. The truth of their struggle is broadcast not by a press release, but by a thousand shared posts, a thousand comments of support, and a thousand acts of digital defiance. The regime loses its monopoly on defining the conflict.

    The regime’s response—internet shutdowns, arrests for social media posts, surveillance—is not a sign of strength. It is the panicked reaction of a drowning man trying to hold back the ocean with his hands. Every time they shut down the internet, they scream their fear to the world. They admit that their only counter to the people’s truth is silence.

    But as the adage teaches us, you cannot kill the truth. You can only hide from it for a while. The regime is hiding behind a mountain of lies, but the truth, shared and sustained by millions on social media, is the relentless erosion that will wash that mountain away. The digital front is now as critical as the military one. Every post, every share, every piece of evidence uploaded is a bullet fired against the regime’s tyranny. It is the proof that while they may have the guns, we have the story. And in the end, it is the story, the undeniable truth of the people, that will be remembered long after the tyrants and their hollow titles are forgotten. The truth is not just out; it is organising, it is mobilising, and it is coming for them.

17. The Need for a National Dialogue: To Heal the Wound, You Must Remove the Arrow

    There is a profound Somali adage that offers a timeless lesson in conflict resolution: “Nabadda iyo colaaddu waa laba walaal ah oo nolosha lagu wada sheekeeyo” – “Peace and conflict are two brothers whose lives are told in one story.” It teaches us that peace and war are not opposites; they are intertwined narratives in the life of a nation. You cannot have one without understanding the other. You cannot simply shout “peace” over the sounds of war and expect the conflict to end. The only way to silence the guns is to first listen to the reasons they were fired. The Abiy Ahmed regime’s answer to Ethiopia’s existential crisis—appointing more generals and further centralising military power—is like trying to heal a festering wound by sewing a bigger, more ornate bandage over it. It ignores the poison arrow still lodged within. The only true solution is not more soldiers, but a courageous and genuine national dialogue that surgically addresses the root cause: the fundamental questions of citizenship, representation, and the role of the military that have been festering for decades.

    This dialogue is not a luxury; it is the only path to survival, and here is why:

    1. It Addresses the Cause, Not the Symptom: The conflicts in Tigray, Amhara, Oromia, and elsewhere are not isolated incidents. They are symptoms of a single, raging disease: a deep-seated crisis of the Ethiopian state itself. The regime’s military campaigns treat the symptoms—they temporarily suppress the visible signs of resistance—but the disease continues to spread. A genuine national dialogue would be the long-overdue diagnosis. It would force a national conversation on the core issues: What does it truly mean to be an Ethiopian citizen with equal rights, regardless of ethnicity? How is power shared equitably among our diverse nations and nationalities? What is the purpose of a national army in a multi-ethnic federation? Until these questions are answered honestly and inclusively, no amount of military force will bring lasting peace. It will only create a more brutalised and resentful population.

    2. It Undermines the Justification for Violence: The primary source of legitimacy for Freedom Fighters like FANO is the state’s refusal to engage in good-faith politics. When the state responds to every grievance with a drone strike and every demand for representation with a arrest warrant, it validates the armed struggle. It proves that the only language the regime understands is violence. A credible, inclusive dialogue would fundamentally change this calculus. If the people see a real, transparent process where their grievances are heard and addressed, the moral imperative for armed resistance evaporates. The Freedom Fighters are a response to closed doors; a real dialogue opens them. It forces the regime to fight its battles with ideas and compromise, a fight it is destined to lose because its ideas are bankrupt, and its offers are insincere.

    3. It Is the Antidote to the Regime’s Division: The regime’s only strategy for survival is “divide and rule.” It pits ethnic group against ethnic group, region against region, to prevent a united front from forming against it. A truly national dialogue, involving all factions, ethnic groups, political parties, and civic leaders, would be the ultimate threat to this strategy. It would create a platform for the oppressed to find common ground, to realise that their true enemy is not each other, but the centralising, authoritarian system that exploits their differences. The regime fears nothing more than this unity of purpose among the people, which is why it will only ever stage sham dialogues with hand-picked participants and predetermined outcomes.

    4. It Offers a Path to Reclaim the Military: The current army is a political weapon. A national dialogue that forges a new social contract would also have to redefine the role of the military. It could lead to a foundational reform: the de-politicisation and de-ethnicisation of the security forces. It could create a new national doctrine where the army’s sole duty is to protect the constitution and the borders of the nation, not the political interests of the ruling party. This is the only way to ever create a military that all Ethiopians can trust and respect.

    The regime’s so-called “national dialogue” is a fraud. It is a monologue disguised as a conversation, designed to legitimise its predetermined conclusions. A real dialogue is not about talking; it is about listening and changing.

    The adage is correct: peace and conflict are two brothers in one story. We have been forced to live the chapter of conflict for too long. To start the chapter of peace, we must first have the courage to sit down and write it together. This requires removing the arrow—dismantling the system of ethnic patronage and centralised oppression—not just snapping the shaft and leaving the tip to fester. The need for a real dialogue is the most urgent need of all, for without it, the story of Ethiopia risks having a tragic and final ending. Our fight is to ensure the dialogue happens, so that the brothers of peace and conflict can finally find a resolution to their shared story.

18. An Army for All, Not for One: The Forging of a New Ethiopian Covenant

    There is an ancient Ethiopian adage, whispered from the time of the Aksumite kings, that reminds us of the source of true strength: “የአንድ እግር ሰው አገር አያስተዳድርም” – “A one-legged man cannot govern a nation.” This wisdom, etched into our collective memory, speaks to the fundamental necessity of balance, inclusion, and shared support. A nation stands strong on two legs, on the combined strength of all its people. The current regime in Addis Ababa has not only sawed off one leg, but now demands that the crippled body march in lockstep to its tune. The future of Ethiopia—if it is to have a future at all—depends on forging a new covenant, and at its heart must be a truly national army. This is not a mere reform; it is a revolution of the spirit. It is the creation of a guardian force where a gifted child from the wetlands of Gambella can, through merit and patriotism alone, rise to the rank of General, commanding the respect of a nation united in purpose, not divided by ethnic quota or political connection.

    This vision is the absolute antithesis of the regime’s project, and the only possible foundation for a lasting peace.

    1. The Principle of Meritocratic Patriotism: A national army’s sole criteria for advancement must be proven competence, strategic brilliance, unwavering courage, and a patriotism dedicated to the idea of Ethiopia—its constitution and its people—not to a single political party or leader. This means that the officer corps must become a mirror reflecting the nation’s diversity, not the ruling party’s inner circle. Promotion must be earned on the training ground and the battlefield, not in the political backrooms of Meskel Square. This is the only way to restore professionalism, strategic competence, and the shattered morale of the rank and file. Soldiers will only faithfully follow commanders they believe are the best, not the best-connected.

    2. The Guardian, Not the Enforcer: The primary duty of this reborn army must be to guard the nation’s borders from external threats and to guarantee the constitutional order within. Its role is to protect the people and the state, not to enforce the will of a ruling clique upon restive regions. This requires a fundamental rewriting of its doctrine and a purge of the current, politicised command structure. Its loyalty must be to the sovereign people of Ethiopia, as represented by a legitimate and inclusive parliament, not to the occupant of the National Palace. This separation of military from partisan politics is the bedrock of any functional democracy.

    3. The Ultimate Repudiation of Tyranny: Building such an army would be the most powerful act of national reconciliation possible. It would be a concrete signal to every marginalised community—to the son of Gambella, the daughter of Afar, the mother in Sidama—that they are full and equal citizens of a shared project. Their identity is not a ceiling to their ambition, but a part of the rich tapestry of the nation they are trusted to lead and defend. This act would dismantle the very justification for armed resistance. Why would a community take up arms against a state that protects it, includes it, and honours its children?

    4. The Strategic Imperative: From a purely strategic standpoint, an ethnically stacked army is a weak army. It is riddled with internal suspicion, prone to fracturing along ethnic lines under pressure, and incapable of generating the unified national will required to defend the country from genuine external threats. A truly national army, drawing strength from every corner of the nation, would be immeasurably stronger, more resilient, and more innovative. It would be a shield for all, feared by external enemies and respected by its own people.

    5. The Freedom Fighter’s Ultimate Goal: This vision is the very objective for which FANO and other Freedom Fighters are sacrificing. They are not “militias” seeking to destroy Ethiopia; they are the broken reflection of a state that abandoned its duty. They are the painful, temporary manifestation of a people’s right to self-defence in the absence of a national protector. Their struggle will only end when the state once again provides that protection. Their deepest hope is to see their own sons and daughters integrated into a legitimate, professional force where they can serve their country with honour, not die in a field for a politician’s vanity.

    The regime’s army is a one-legged force, hopping on a path to certain collapse. We fight for the day Ethiopia stands firmly on two legs, strong and balanced. We fight for the day the army’s leadership looks like Ethiopia, thinks for Ethiopia, and dies for Ethiopia—and for that alone. This is not a dream; it is a necessity. It is the only future that promises not just peace, but justice, and the return of honour to the uniform that should never have been disgraced.

19. The Legacy of Patriots: To Forge the Future, We Must Reclaim the Past

    There is an Amhara adage that flows like a river through our history, connecting the past to the present: “የጥንት አዋቂ የወደፊት መሪ ነው” – “He who knows the past is the leader of the future.” This is not a call to live in the past, but a command to understand it, to draw strength from its lessons, and to ensure that the sacrifices of our ancestors were not in vain. Today, a bitter war is being waged over the soul of Ethiopia’s history. The regime in Addis Ababa and its foreign allies peddle a narrative that our past is nothing but a dark tale of imperial oppression, a story that must be ended by breaking the nation into ethnic fiefdoms. We must fiercely reclaim the true legacy of our patriots—the men and women from every corner of this land who fought not for tribe, but for a united and sovereign Ethiopian nation. This is not nostalgia; it is an act of intellectual and spiritual warfare against those who would dismantle the nation those patriots built.

    To reclaim this legacy is to understand what true patriotism meant:

    1. Patriotism Versus Ethnic Chauvinism: The true patriots we honour—from Emperor Tewodros II who fought for centralisation against warlords, to Ras Alula Aba Nega who defended the north from foreign invaders, to the countless, nameless peasants who rallied to the cry of “Ethiopia Tikdem!”—fought for a concept of nation that transcended their own regional or ethnic identity. They believed in a sovereign Ethiopian state that could stand tall among the world’s nations. This is fundamentally different from the ethnic chauvinism of the current regime, which uses the language of liberation to empower one group above all others, effectively creating a new, internal empire. Reclaiming the patriots’ legacy means fighting for a united Ethiopia that is a voluntary community of equals, not a prison of hierarchies, old or new.

    2. Sovereignty as the Highest Principle: The abiding lesson from patriots like Menelik II at Adwa is that national sovereignty is non-negotiable. It is the ultimate prize, hard-won and easily lost. The current regime has betrayed this principle utterly. It has invited foreign forces onto Ethiopian soil, allowed a foreign power to influence its military and political strategy, and mortgaged the nation’s dignity for its own short-term political survival. To honour the legacy of Adwa is to rage against this betrayal. It is to declare that no Ethiopian blood should ever be spilled to further the interests of a foreign dictator, and that no Ethiopian general should ever take orders from a foreign capital.

    3. The Fight Against All Forms of Tyranny: The patriots of the past fought against external colonisers. The patriots of today fight against internal colonisers—a regime that has colonised the state itself, turning its institutions into instruments of oppression for one group over the others. The Freedom Fighters of FANO and other movements are the direct inheritors of this spirit. They are not “militias” breaking the country; they are the modern embodiment of the same defiant will that said “NO” to Mussolini’s fascism. They are fighting the same enemy, albeit in a different form: the tyrannical impulse to dominate, control, and subjugate. Their war is a continuation of the eternal Ethiopian struggle for self-determination, this time against a domestic enemy that wears the mask of federalism while practising a brutal form of centralised control.

    4. A Legacy for All Ethiopians: This reclaimed legacy is not the sole property of any one group. It is a national inheritance. It belongs to the Oromo cavalry who charged at Adwa, the Tigrayan generals who devised its strategy, the Amhara rifles who held the line, and the Gurage, Sidama, and Wolayta warriors who fought as one. This is the history the regime wants us to forget, because it proves that Ethiopian unity is not a myth imposed by Amhara rulers, but a multi-ethnic, collective achievement. To remember this is to destroy the foundation of the regime’s divisive politics.

    The regime, in its cynical rewriting of history, seeks to make us orphans, disconnected from the glory and lessons of our forebears. It wants a population without a past, because such a people are easily manipulated in the present.

    We must refuse this. We must reclaim our history. We must study the strategic brilliance of our ancestors, emulate their courage, and honour their unwavering commitment to the idea of Ethiopia. The struggle today is the same struggle: to ensure that Ethiopia remains a free, sovereign, and united nation. The weapons have changed, but the cause remains identical. The legacy of the patriots is not a relic in a museum; it is a banner on the battlefield, and it is our duty to carry it forward. We fight not to restore a dead empire, but to realise the true, inclusive, and sovereign nation that our ancestors dreamed of and for which they spilled their blood. Their spirit demands nothing less.

20. The Unbreakable Will of the People: The Regime’s Steel is No Match for the People’s Spirit

    There is an Oromo adage that has guided our people through centuries of struggle: “Hunda nyaachuuf duula, harka hin qabne” – “He who fights to take everything, will end up with nothing.” It is a warning to the greedy and the tyrannical that there is a fundamental, unassailable power in the world that cannot be bought, bribed, or broken: the collective will of a people who have decided they will be free. The Abiy Ahmed regime, in its towering arrogance, believes that political appointments, military ranks, and foreign drones are the ultimate instruments of power. It is making a catastrophic miscalculation. It is fighting to take everything—our land, our history, our dignity, and our future—and in doing so, it is ensuring its own demise. For ultimately, no amount of generals, no matter how loyal, can defeat the determined will of a people who yearn for freedom, dignity, and justice. This is not a battle for territory alone; it is a battle for the soul of Ethiopia. And the people, as they always have throughout our long and defiant history, will prevail.

    This unbreakable will is an unstoppable force, and it manifests in ways the regime’s calculus cannot comprehend:

    1. The Bankruptcy of Material Power: The regime operates under the delusion that power flows from the barrel of a gun and the title of a general. This is a primitive understanding. True, enduring power flows from legitimacy, from the consent and support of the governed. The regime has none. It has traded legitimacy for fear. But fear is a fragile weapon. It requires constant, escalating violence to maintain, and eventually, the people become numb to it. When a population has lost everything—when mothers have buried their children, when farmers have seen their land stolen, when young men see no future—the regime’s threats lose their power. You cannot threaten a man who is already free in his mind because he has accepted death for a cause greater than himself. This is the psychological terrain where the Freedom Fighters of FANO operate, and it is territory the regime can never conquer.

    2. The Asymmetry of the Struggle: The regime fights to preserve its privilege, its power, and its ill-gotten wealth. Its soldiers fight out of coercion, fear, or a pay cheque. Their cause is ultimately selfish and shallow. The people, and the Freedom Fighters who rise from among them, fight for something infinitely more powerful: for the right to exist, for the memory of their dead, for the future of their children, and for the sacred ideal of a just Ethiopia. This creates an asymmetry of will. A regime soldier can be ordered to advance; a Freedom Fighter cannot be ordered to stop believing. One side is fighting a job; the other is fighting for their very reason for being. In such a contest, the latter will always, eventually, outlast the former. They will endure more hardship, sacrifice more, and fight with a conviction that no amount of political indoctrination can manufacture.

    3. The Historical Imperative: History is not on the side of tyrants. Look at our own past. The Derg, with its Soviet-backed might, its terrifying security apparatus, and its vicious purges, seemed invincible. Yet where is it now? It was ground into the dust by the unwavering will of the Ethiopian people, who simply refused to submit. The current regime is but a hollow echo of the Derg, repeating its same mistakes and harbouring the same arrogant belief that terror can permanently suppress the human spirit. It is destined for the same fate. The Ethiopian people have a long, proven history of enduring unimaginable suffering and emerging, eventually, to reclaim their destiny. This historical resilience is in our blood; it is our national character. The regime is a temporary sickness; the people are the eternal body that will heal itself.

    4. The Generals of Paper Versus the Generals of the People: The regime can appoint a hundred new generals, but these are generals of paper. Their authority is written on a decree that the wind of change can blow away. The true generals in this struggle are not in Addis Ababa. They are the grandmothers who hide Freedom Fighters, the students who spread the truth online, the farmers who share their last piece of injera with a resistance unit, and the fighters of FANO who navigate the mountains by the will of the people. This is a leadership born of sacrifice and consent, not of political patronage. It is a network of resolve that no amount of political appointments can ever replicate or destroy.

    The adage’s warning is clear: the regime, by fighting to take everything, will end with nothing. Its titles will be forgotten, its generals will be disgraced, and its name will be a curse in the history books.

    Our will, however, is unbreakable. It is forged in the fires of injustice and tempered by the certainty of our cause. We fight for a Ethiopia where our children will not know the sound of drones, but the sound of debate. Where the army is a guardian, not an occupier. Where a person is judged by their character, not their ethnicity. This vision is a force of nature. The regime can delay it, it can make the price unbearably high, but it cannot stop it. The battle for the soul of Ethiopia is already won in the hearts of the people. The rest is merely a matter of time.

Conclusion: The Echo from Gambella and the Weight of History

A timeless Amhara adage offers a final, sobering reflection: “የተገረሙት ዛፍ ብቻ ነው የሚያፈርሰውን ነገር የሚያውቀው።” – “It is only the tree that has been struck that knows what it is to be felled.” The regime in Addis Ababa, in its insulated palace, has never been struck by the devastating consequences of its own policies. It does not know the feeling of being felled. But the people of Ethiopia—from the highlands of Amhara to the banks of the Baro River—know this feeling intimately. They have been struck too many times to count.

The long list of names from that day in September 2018 will be forgotten, relegated to a footnote in a dark chapter of our history. It will be remembered only as a desperate gambit by a dying order, a futile attempt to reinforce a collapsing wall with paper decrees and tarnished brass. But the question from Gambella—“Did you see any of us here?”—will endure. It is more than a question; it is an anthem of the voiceless, a battle cry for the marginalised, and a permanent indictment of the betrayed. It is the fuel that feeds the unwavering resolve of every Freedom Fighter who has taken up arms not for conquest, but for a place at the table that was violently denied to them.

The true battle for Ethiopia is not being fought with tanks and drones alone. These are merely the crude instruments of a regime that has run out of ideas. The real war is being waged in the hearts and minds of every Ethiopian, who must now make a defining choice: to accept a future of perpetual division and ethnic subjugation, or to rise and demand a future built on the unshakeable foundation of unity and equal citizenship. It is a choice between the tyranny of the one and the justice of the many.

The regime’s generals may have new epaulettes on their shoulders, but we, the children of this ancient and resilient land, carry a far greater weight: the weight of history. Ours is the legacy of Adwa, of patriots who understood that true strength lies in standing together. Ours is the burden of knowing that if we do not act now, the very idea of Ethiopia may be shattered beyond repair. And ours is the solemn responsibility to ensure that the sacrifice of this generation is not in vain.

The regime has the guns, but we have the cause. It has the titles, but we have the truth. It has the palace, but we have the people.

And history, as it always has from the times of the Axumite kings to the fall of the Derg, is not on the side of the oppressor. It bends, slowly and inevitably, towards justice. It is on the side of the people who yearn to be free. The tree of tyranny has been struck, and though it may not yet know it, it has already begun to fall.

Viva Ethiopia!

Ethiopia Autonomous Media

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