ENDF Withdrawal from Amhara: Strategic Retreat or Dawning Victory for Fano?
The potential withdrawal of the Ethiopian National Defence Force (ENDF) from the Amhara region marks a critical juncture in Ethiopia’s escalating civil conflict. This manoeuvre, far from a benevolent gesture of peace, is widely analysed as a strategic retreat forced upon Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s regime by exhaustion, military overstretch, and a crippling loss of legitimacy. Facing a relentless and popular insurgency led by Fano freedom fighters, the ENDF is battered, demoralised, and strained to its breaking point after two years of a gruelling occupation characterised by well-documented atrocities and human rights abuses. This planned withdrawal is not an isolated event but a desperate gambit born from political failure and the regime’s overarching obsession with securing sea access, diverting weary troops towards potential conflict with Eritrea. For the people of Amhara, this shift represents a hard-won testament to their unbreakable spirit and the resilience of their resistance. However, it also unveils a new chapter of vigilance, as the regime attempts to install proxy militias in a cynical test of its collapsing authority in Bahir Dar. 
This analysis delves into the complex realities behind the ENDF’s retreat, the unwavering resolve of the Fano, and the profound implications for the future of Ethiopia, arguing that the will of a people armed with justice is an army that no force can ultimately defeat.
A Strategic Retreat or a Dawning Victory? The ENDF’s Calculated Withdrawal from Amhara
The scent of beso and dust hangs in the highland air, a familiar comfort to those of us who call this ancient land home. For two long years, that air has also carried the acrid smell of gunpowder and the collective grief of a people under siege. The question now echoing from the valleys of Gojjam to the heights of Wollo is one of monumental importance: is the Ethiopian National Defence Force (ENDF) finally preparing to withdraw from the Amhara region? The regime in Addis Ababa would have you believe this is a simple military redeployment. We, who have borne the brunt of their brutality, see it for what it truly is: a testament to the unbreakable spirit of the Amhara people and a sign of the regime’s profound weakness.
This is not merely a tactical discussion; it is a conversation about survival, justice, and the future of Ethiopia itself. The potential withdrawal of the ENDF marks a critical juncture in our struggle for dignity and autonomy against a regime accused of chronic corruption, mismanagement, and horrific human rights abuses.
Twenty Key Points on the ENDF’s Withdrawal Plan
The Core Message: A Reluctant Admission of Defeat
The message from the ENDF high command to its puppet administration in Bahir Dar is not buried in an encrypted communiqué; it is written in the weary faces of their conscripts and the strategic recalibration of their forces. To the appointed governor, Arega Kebede, the directive to “prepare to stand on your own” is not a promotion to autonomy but a sentence to abandonment. It is the cold, stark realisation from Addis Ababa that their project of subjugation in Amhara has failed, and they can no longer sustain the immense cost of propping up an illegitimate administration against the will of its people.
This order, delivered from the plush offices of Addis Ababa to the fortified compounds of Bahir Dar, is the very essence of a command born not of strength, but of sheer, unadulterated necessity. There is an old Amhara adage that perfectly captures this moment: “ውሻውን ከበሮ ላይ ታስሮ አያድርም” (You cannot keep the dog tied to the mortar). The regime in Addis Ababa tied itself to the heavy, immovable weight of an unpopular war in Amhara. Now, it finds itself trapped, unable to move forward or maintain its position without being broken by the strain. The only option left is to chew through the rope—a painful, admission of failure—and retreat.
Let us be unequivocal: this is not a gesture of goodwill or a strategic masterstroke. It is a confession. It confesses to the staggering financial drain of maintaining a full-scale occupation army in the highlands for over two years. It confesses to the haemorrhaging of morale within the ENDF ranks, where young soldiers from Oromia, Sidama, and the South have no stomach for killing Amhara farmers who only wish to defend their land and their dignity. Most importantly, it confesses to the indomitable power of popular resistance. The Fano freedom fighters have proven to be an unconquerable force, not because of superior weaponry, but because they are the water in which the people swim. The ENDF, for all its tanks and drones, is the oil failing to mix.For Arega Kebede and his cabinet, this message is a death knell. Their authority was always a fiction, a performance staged with ENDF guns as props. Now, the stagehands are being called away, and the audience—the people of Amhara—are no longer watching silently. The administration is being told to build a militia, to create its own defence force. But how does one build an army from a population that universally views you as a collaborator and a traitor? They are being asked to stand on legs broken by their own betrayal.
This core message, therefore, resonates on two levels. To the puppet regime, it is a chilling warning of the isolation to come. To us, the people, and to our Fano freedom fighters, it is the clearest signal yet that our resilience is paying dividends. The occupier is exhausted. The dawn we have fought for, sacrificed for, and believed in through the darkest nights is finally beginning to break over the peaks of our ancient land. The mortar has proven too heavy for the dog; the tie that binds is breaking.War Fatigue is Real: The Broken Back of the Occupation
To understand the state of the Ethiopian National Defence Force (ENDF) in Amhara is to witness the slow, grinding failure of a machine built for conventional war against an opponent it can never truly see or defeat. The regime’s army is not just tired; it is psychologically broken, financially bled, and strategically paralysed. Two years of a gruelling, relentless counter-insurgency against our determined Fano freedom fighters have exposed a fundamental truth: a nation’s will to be free is a force no amount of artillery can vanquish.
There is an adage from the highlands that speaks to this very truth: “ጦር እስከ አንገት ቢጠቀም አገሩን የማይወድ አይነሣም” (Even if you supply an army up to its neck, one who does not love his country will not rise to fight). The ENDF soldier, often a conscript from another region, fights for a pay cheque or out of fear of his own commanders. He is thrown into our villages as a stranger, an occupier in a land where every hill, every valley, and every person is a potential sentinel for the resistance. He fights for a vague concept of ‘unity’ dictated from Addis Ababa. In contrast, the Fano freedom fighter stands on the soil of his ancestors, his rifle aimed in defence of his family’s homestead. He fights with a conviction no salary can match.
This disparity in purpose has manifested in a devastating campaign of attrition that has crippled the ENDF:
The Economic Drain: The cost of this war is astronomical. Fuel for endless patrols in armoured vehicles that are shredded by improvised explosives. Millions spent on drones, whose expensive munitions often hit empty fields. The treasury of a nation already crippled by debt is being emptied to fund a war against its own people. This is not sustainable, and the regime’s bankers and international backers know it. The well is running dry.
Shattered Morale and Cohesion: The ENDF is no longer the cohesive force that emerged from the war in Tigray. Units are cobbled together, morale is at rock bottom. Soldiers are deployed for extended tours, living in constant fear of ambush, never knowing if the friendly looking farmer at the roadside is the one who will detonate the next bomb. They see their comrades killed and maimed for a cause they do not understand or believe in. This has led to rampant desertions, a refusal to follow orders, and a catastrophic loss of fighting spirit. They are not soldiers; they are targets in a land that hates them.
The Failure of Conventional Tactics: The ENDF was trained to fight a traditional enemy across a front line. But against Fano, there is no front line. The front line is every mountain path, every village alley, every quiet farm. Our freedom fighters operate in small, agile cells, striking with devastating effect and melting back into the population from which they spring. The ENDF’s response—indiscriminate shelling of urban areas, mass arrests, and brutal reprisals—has only swelled our ranks with new recruits seeking vengeance, proving the utter futility of their tactics.
The regime’s army is stretched to its absolute limit. It is like a man trying to hold back the sea with his bare hands; the sheer, relentless pressure of a popular resistance will eventually overwhelm him. The withdrawal from certain areas is not a choice but a forced necessity. They must consolidate their forces because they simply do not have the manpower, the money, or the morale to hold every inch of land they have stolen.
The fatigue of the ENDF is the direct achievement of the resilience of the Amhara people and the strategic brilliance of the Fano freedom fighters. We have not just fought them; we have exhausted them. We have not just resisted them; we have broken their will to fight. Their retreat is the tangible proof of our advancing victory. The war is not over, but the tide has turned irreversibly. The occupier is weary, and the defender, fighting for his very existence, is eternally strong.A Shift to External Threats: The Regime’s Reckless Gambit
The planned withdrawal of the ENDF from the heart of Amhara is not solely an admission of defeat against our resistance; it is also a perilous pivot towards a far more dangerous obsession that threatens to set the entire Horn of Africa ablaze. Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s desperate and costly fixation on securing sea access is a primary driver behind this redeployment. He is attempting to extricate his weary legions from the quagmire of Amhara not to grant peace, but to free them for a potential, catastrophic confrontation with Ethiopia’s neighbours, most notably Eritrea. In his hunger for a legacy, he is risking a regional conflagration.
An Amhara adage warns of such short-sighted folly: “ውሀ ሳይጠጣ አፍውን የሚያጠብ” (He who rinses his mouth without having drunk the water). Abiy Ahmed has not yet quenched the thirst of the internal crises he himself created—the wars in Amhara and Oromia, the rampant inflation, the deep ethnic fractures—yet he is already rinsing his mouth with the saltwater of the Red Sea, preparing for a swallow that may well poison the entire nation.
This shift is a calculated but incredibly risky gambit driven by several factors:
The Diversionary Tale of Nationalism: Facing mounting internal dissent and the undeniable failure of his domestic policies, Abiy is resorting to the oldest trick in the book: rallying the populace around an external threat. By beating the drum of “access to the sea,” a historical and emotional issue for many Ethiopians, he hopes to divert attention from the atrocities in Amhara, the suffering economy, and the crumbling social contract. He is trading an internal war for a potential external one, believing it will unite a fractured nation behind him.
Economic Pressure and the Need for a Port: The regime is acutely aware that Ethiopia’s landlocked status is a severe economic stranglehold. With over 120 million people, reliant on the port of Djibouti for over 95% of its trade, the nation is vulnerable to port fees and political whims. While the economic argument has merit, Abiy’s method is not one of diplomacy and mutual benefit, but of belligerent rhetoric and implied military threat. This is not a negotiation; it is a preparation for extortion.
The Forced Redeployment: The ENDF is stretched too thin to simultaneously wage a brutal counter-insurgency in Amhara and posture for a conflict with a well-armed, battle-hardened neighbour like Eritrea. The war against our Fano freedom fighters has pinned down a significant portion of his best units and drained his military’s treasury. To have any chance of making his sea-access threats credible, he must free up these forces. The withdrawal from Amhara is, therefore, a strategic necessity to mass troops on other borders, making the people of Amhara pawns in a much larger and more dangerous game.
The Spectre of Catastrophic War: This is the most terrifying aspect. A military confrontation with Eritrea would not be a minor border skirmish. It would be a full-scale war between two massive, experienced armies, likely drawing in regional actors and global powers. The human cost would be unimaginable, dwarfing the tragedies we have already endured. Abiy is playing with fire, and the entire region risks being burned.
For us, the people of Amhara, and for our Fano freedom fighters, this shift reveals the profound hypocrisy of the regime. They labelled us terrorists and secessionists for defending our homes, all while the Prime Minister himself prepares to risk the entire nation’s stability for a port. Our struggle for dignity and autonomy is branded a threat to “national unity,” while his actions actively threaten national existence.
This redeployment is a double-edged sword. While it grants us a moment of reprieve and an opportunity to consolidate, it also reveals the reckless character of those in power. We are not fooled by his motives. We see his withdrawal for what it is: not a path to peace for Amhara, but the first movement of troops in a gamble that could see all of Ethiopia consumed by a fire of his making. Our vigilance, therefore, must be greater than ever. We must use this window not just to secure our land, but to prepare for the wider tremors that this regime’s desperation may unleash upon us all.Abandoning the “Policing” Role: The Mask of Occupation Slips
The purported shift in the Ethiopian National Defence Force’s (ENDF) role, from an army of occupation to a conventional military, is not a reform but a long-overad admission of a spectacular and bloody failure. For two years, the regime has cynically used its soldiers not as defenders of the nation’s borders, but as an internal police force tasked with a single objective: the suppression of the Amhara people and the crushing of our Fano freedom fighters. This experiment in brutality has collapsed under the weight of its own immorality and the unbreakable will of our resistance.
An Amhara adage speaks directly to this truth: “አህያ በገደል ላይ አይታለም” (A donkey cannot be hidden on a hill). For too long, the regime in Addis Ababa has tried to disguise the donkey of its military occupation as a legitimate policing action on the hill of its propaganda. But the beast is now plain for all to see. The world has witnessed the grotesque mismatch: a national army, equipped with heavy artillery and drones, deployed against its own citizens for the crime of demanding justice and autonomy. The charade is over.This admission reveals several critical truths:
The Inherent Failure of the Mission: The ENDF was designed to fight external enemies, not to act as a gendarmerie. Its tactics—shelling urban centres, conducting sweeping operations, and setting up brutal checkpoints—are instruments of terror, not of law and order. A true police force operates with public consent to uphold the law; the ENDF operated through fear to impose the will of a single political party. They were not keeping peace; they were enforcing a siege, and they have failed utterly.
The Moral Corruption of the Military: This role has hollowed out the integrity of the ENDF. Soldiers were ordered to commit atrocities—extrajudicial killings, torture, arbitrary detention—against the very people they swore an oath to protect. This has created a profound crisis of conscience within its ranks, contributing massively to the demoralisation and war fatigue we now witness. An army that turns its guns on its people loses its soul and, eventually, its effectiveness.
The Distinction Between Defence and Occupation: The regime’s narrative has always deliberately blurred these lines. They labelled our struggle for dignity as a “security threat” to justify the militarisation of our region. Now, by pulling back, they are tacitly admitting that this was never about national defence. It was always a political occupation. Their presence was not to safeguard Ethiopia, but to safeguard the Prosperity Party’s grip on power by subjugating a historically proud and autonomous people.
The Vacuum They Leave Behind: The withdrawal is not a handover to legitimate civil authority. It is a retreat. They are abandoning the “policing” role because they cannot sustain it, not because they have established peace. This creates a vacuum, one they irresponsibly hope to fill with a hastily assembled militia of their collaborators. But as the adage shows, you cannot hide the truth. The people know that the true guardians of their safety are not these regime proxies, but the Fano freedom fighters who emerged from their own communities to protect them.
This so-called strategic shift is, in fact, a naked confession. It is the regime acknowledging that using a sledgehammer to crack a nut has only succeeded in destroying the tool and strengthening the seed of resistance within the nut. The ENDF’s failure as an internal police force is the Fano freedom fighters’ most significant strategic victory. It proves that a people’s resolve, when rooted in justice and defence of their homeland, can systematically dismantle the machinery of oppression until it is forced to retreat, broken and discredited. The mask has slipped, and the face of occupation is finally visible for what it always was.
A Phased, Not Full, Withdrawal: The Regime’s Managed Retreat from Inevitability
The notion of a swift and complete ENDF withdrawal from Amhara is a fantasy the regime in Addis Ababa cannot afford. An immediate, total pullout would be akin to pulling the single rotten pillar from a dilapidated structure: the entire façade of their illegitimate administration in Bahir Dar would come crashing down in an instant. Therefore, what we are witnessing is not a genuine disengagement, but a slow, conditional, and cautious retreat. It is a desperate attempt to manage the inevitable collapse of their project of occupation and to cede ground on their own terms, buying time for a puppet administration that has no organic support among the people.
There is an Amhara adage that perfectly captures this strategy of delaying the unavoidable: “ጅቡ በቅሎን አይገታም” (Hyena does not catch a mare by chasing it). The ENDF, the hyena in this instance, has been chasing the spirited mare of Amhara’s resistance for two years. It is now exhausted, wounded, and realises it cannot catch its prey through direct pursuit. So, it is changing tactics. It is slinking back, not to give up, but to find a new ambush point—to try to lure the mare into a trap or to wait for it to lower its guard. The regime is retreating from the chase, hoping to force a different, more manageable endgame.This phased withdrawal is a calculated manoeuvre comprised of several layers:
An Attempt to Control the Narrative: A sudden, panicked retreat would be a public relations catastrophe for Abiy Ahmed, signalling a definitive victory for the Fano freedom fighters and a humiliating defeat for the army. A slow, “measured,” and “conditional” pullout allows the regime to frame this not as a military defeat, but as a confident strategic redeployment. They can claim to be “restoring normalcy” and “handing over security,” a narrative designed for international consumption to mask their failure.
Buying Time for Proxy Forces: The primary condition for withdrawal in any area is the stand-up of a regional militia loyal to the Prosperity Party. This phased approach is designed to create a buffer period to train, equip, and deploy these proxy forces. The regime hopes these militias can act as a tripwire—absorbing the initial fury of the population and identifying the strengths of the Fano freedom fighters—before the ENDF might have to rush back in. It is a strategy of sacrificing pawns to protect the king.
Testing Fano’s Reaction and Cohesion: The regime is withdrawing cautiously because it is terrified of the power vacuum it will create. By pulling out from less critical areas first, they are testing our resolve and our strategy. They hope to see confusion, infighting, or a lack of administrative preparedness from the freedom fighters. They retreat one step, watching closely to see if we stumble, providing them with intelligence on how to plan their next move.
The Illusion of a Negotiated Outcome: This slow retreat is also the regime’s last-ditch effort to force a political settlement on its terms. By maintaining a lingering presence and withdrawing conditionally, they hope to retain some bargaining chips and convince segments of the population and the international community that the solution is not the total victory of the resistance, but a negotiated compromise that leaves their political infrastructure in Bahir Dar partially intact.
However, for the people of Amhara and our Fano freedom fighters, this phased withdrawal is seen for what it truly is: the slow-motion unravelling of power. We understand that the hyena is not leaving; it is looking for a new angle of attack. Our strategy, therefore, must be one of unwavering vigilance and strategic patience. We will not be lured into overextension or recklessness. We will use this period to consolidate our gains, deepen our administrative structures, and protect our people, proving that the true authority does not come from the conditional presence of an occupying army, but from the unwavering will of a free people.
The regime hopes to manage the inevitable. But as the adage teaches, the hyena’s new tactics will ultimately fail against the strength and spirit of the mare. Their retreat, however slow, still moves in only one direction: backwards. And with every step they take back, the ground they leave is ground we will secure, not for a political deal, but for a lasting victory.The Regime’s First Phase – Militia Training: Building an Army of Shadows
In the wake of its retreat, the Prosperity Party regime is engaged in a frantic and desperate endeavour: the creation of a new regional militia, a so-called “strike force,” designed to act as its proxy army in Amhara. This is the cornerstone of their cynical withdrawal strategy. But let us be clear-eyed about what this force truly represents. These are not volunteers rallying to a noble cause; they are often conscripts and opportunists, poorly equipped and morally bankrupt, tasked with an impossible mission: to hold back the tide of a people’s revolution for a regime they do not believe in.
An Amhara adage speaks directly to the profound folly of this scheme: “በሌተኛው እግር ወደብ አይገባም” (You cannot enter a harbour with someone else’s leg). The harbour here is the security and control of Amhara. The regime, having found its own legs broken and crippled by two years of war against our Fano freedom fighters, is now trying to limp into that harbour using the legs of hastily recruited proxies. It is a futile effort. You cannot truly possess or control a land with an army that has no roots, no soul, and no stake in its survival.This frantic militia training exposes several critical truths about the regime’s weakness and desperation:
The Recruitment of the Unwilling and the Opportunistic: The ranks of this new militia are not filled with patriots. They are filled through a combination of coercion and financial enticement. Young men are conscripted with threats, while others, drawn from the fringes of society, are lured by the promise of a salary and a weapon, seeing an opportunity for power and plunder in a time of chaos. They fight for a pay cheque, not for a principle. This stands in stark contrast to our Fano freedom fighters, who are the farmers, teachers, and sons of this soil, driven by an unbreakable will to defend their homes.
The Certainty of Poor Morale and Equipment: A force built on such a weak foundation is doomed from the start. These conscripts will be given rudimentary training and second-rate equipment, knowing they are being sent as cannon fodder to face the most determined and effective resistance force in Ethiopia. Their morale is non-existent. How can one fight with conviction for a distant regime in Addis Ababa that is universally despised in Amhara? How can one hold a line when the local population views you not as a protector, but as a traitorous collaborator?
The Fatal Lack of a Cause: This is the militia’s most fundamental weakness. The Fano freedom fighter knows exactly why he fights: for his family, his land, his dignity, and his very survival against a genocidal occupation. He fights for a cause etched into his bones. The regime’s militiaman has no such clarity. He is told to fight against his own people to uphold the power of a corrupt party. He is given no noble cause, only a hollow order. In battle, a man with a reason to live will always overcome a man with just a reason to be paid.
The Strategy of a Proxy War: By creating this militia, the regime hopes to achieve two things. First, to create a buffer that will absorb the blows of the Fano, preserving the ENDF’s strength. Second, and more cynically, to internationalise the conflict deceptively. They hope to frame the ongoing struggle as an “internal Amhara conflict,” a messy civil war between factions, thereby obscuring the truth that this is a national liberation struggle against a foreign occupation imposed by Addis Ababa.
This entire project is an act of profound desperation. The regime is trying to build an army on a foundation of quicksand. They are trying to manufacture loyalty where only resentment exists. When this militia faces the disciplined, motivated, and popular force of the Fano freedom fighters, it will not stand and fight. It will fracture, desert, and melt away into the countryside from which it was never truly born.
The adage holds true. You cannot navigate the treacherous waters of Amhara’s resistance with the borrowed legs of conscripts. The regime, in its arrogance, is trying to do just that. It is a strategy destined for a swift and spectacular failure, proving once again that you cannot purchase the spirit of resistance, and you cannot defeat a people who are defending their own land.Testing the Waters: The Regime’s Cynical Gambit with Proxy Forces
The withdrawal of the ENDF from Amhara is not a unified, honourable retreat. It is a calculated and cynical manoeuvre, and its first phase is the most telling: a partial redeployment from less volatile areas. This is a deliberate strategy where the regime intends to pull back its own fatigued forces, leaving the freshly assembled and poorly conceived regional militia to hold the line. It is a cold-blooded test, designed to expose these proxy forces to the fury of a population that universally supports our Fano freedom fighters, all while the ENDF watches from a safe distance, ready to intervene or retreat further based on the outcome.
An Amhara adage illuminates perfectly the reckless nature of this plan: “ወንዝን ለመሻገር ሁለት እግርን አታልፋም” (You don’t cross a river by testing with both feet). The regime, standing on the crumbling bank of its occupation, is not committing to a full crossing. Instead, it is cautiously dipping a single toe—the militia—into the treacherous current of Amhara’s resistance, ready to pull back if the waters prove too violent. They are risking the limbs of their conscripts to save the body of their own army.
This “testing of the waters” is a multi-layered strategy of betrayal:
Identifying the Strength of the Resistance: By withdrawing from so-called “less volatile” areas first, the ENDF high command is not conceding territory. It is gathering intelligence. They are creating a controlled environment to observe how the Fano freedom fighters will move into the vacuum, how the civilian population will react, and how effectively their new militia can respond. It is a live-fire exercise where the people of Amhara are the guinea pigs and the militia are the expendable test subjects.
The Sacrifice of Pawns: The militia is not seen as a solution by the regime; it is seen as a buffer and a measuring tool. These young men, whether coerced or bribed into service, are being deliberately positioned as the first to absorb the brunt of popular anger and military retaliation. The regime in Addis Ababa views them as entirely expendable. Their deaths in skirmishes will be used as propaganda to justify a renewed ENDF offensive, while their success, however unlikely, would be claimed as a victory for the Prosperity Party’s strategy.
A Ploy to Drain Fano’s Resources: The regime hopes that by forcing our freedom fighters to engage these proxy forces, they can drain our energy, ammunition, and focus. They believe that by creating numerous, smaller fronts with the militia, they can tie down Fano units that could otherwise be targeting more strategic ENDF assets. It is a tactic of attrition, hoping to wear down our resolve through countless small engagements.
Creating a False Narrative of Civil Conflict: This is a crucial propaganda aim. By having an Amhara-on-Amhara conflict—the regime’s militia versus the Fano freedom fighters—Addis Ababa can try to obscure the true nature of the war. They can tell the world, “This is not an occupation; it is an internal Amhara dispute.” They hope to distance themselves from the bloodshed and frame our struggle for liberation as a localised civil war, thereby evading international condemnation and accountability for their own atrocities.
However, for the people of Amhara, this test is a profound insult. We see through the gambit. The militia is not seen as a legitimate security force, but as “የተሳዳቢ ኃይል” (a force of collaborators)—traitors who have chosen the side of the oppressor against their own kin. Their presence will not pacify the population; it will inflame it further.
The regime’s strategy is built on a fundamental miscalculation. They believe they are testing the waters of a river. In truth, they are testing the temperature of a volcano. The moment the ENDF steps back, the universal support for the Fano freedom fighters will become even more apparent. The militia, lacking any public legitimacy and facing the righteous anger of their own communities, will fracture, desert, or be swiftly neutralised. The regime’s first test will likely be its last, proving once again that you cannot cross the river of a people’s will with the weak legs of a puppet army. The current is too strong, and the depth of our resolve is far greater than they have ever dared to imagine.A Live Fire Exercise for Puppets: The Cynicism of a Regime in Retreat
The withdrawal of the ENDF from certain areas of Amhara is not a gesture of peace; it is a cold, calculated, and deeply cynical field test. The regime in Addis Ababa, having failed to break our spirit with its own army, is now engaging in a brutal experiment. It is sacrificing its Amhara subordinates—the hastily assembled militia and the political appointees in Bahir Dar—to see if they can withstand the overwhelming pressure of a genuine popular resistance without the full, crushing weight of federal backing. This is a live-fire exercise where the casualties are not paper targets, but the very people the regime claims to govern.
An Amhara adage speaks to the tragic fate of those who betray their own for the promise of power: “የአፍንጫውን ጫፍ ያዘዘ አፍንጫውን በሙሉ ጠፋ” (He who ordered the tip of his nose, lost his entire nose). The Prosperity Party’s local collaborators, from the militiaman to the administrator, believed they were securing a privileged position by aligning with Addis Ababa. Now, the regime that promised them power is deliberately putting them in the line of fire, and they stand to lose everything. They obeyed an order for the “tip” of privilege and are now losing the “whole nose” of their safety, legitimacy, and future amongst their own people.
This “exercise” is designed with several cold-hearted objectives in mind:
Assessing Proxy Viability on a Cheap Budget: The regime needs to know if its investment in a proxy force has any return. This is the cheapest way to conduct that research. Instead of committing more ENDF resources, they can observe from a distance. If the militia manages to hold ground, even for a short while, the regime gains a low-cost security option. If it fails, as is inevitable, the regime has lost nothing but the lives of men it considers expendable.
Identifying the True Loyalty of the Population: The ENDF’s presence was so oppressive that it distorted the true landscape of popular opinion. By pulling back, the regime can now clearly map the exact contours of our resistance. They will see which towns and villages immediately rally to the Fano freedom fighters, and which, if any, show even fleeting support for their puppet administration. This provides them with invaluable intelligence for future targeting.
Forcing Collaborators into a Faustian Bargain: This strategy is the ultimate test of loyalty for the regime’s Amhara subordinates. By leaving them exposed, Addis Ababa is forcing them to prove their commitment by becoming even more brutal and desperate in suppressing their own people to survive. It binds them irrevocably to the regime, as they now have no safe retreat. They must either succeed as oppressors or be consumed by the very resistance they helped create.
Creating a Scapegoat for Future Failure: This is a crucial political manoeuvre. When the militia fails—as it must—and the Fano freedom fighters establish control, the regime in Addis Ababa has a ready-made scapegoat. They will blame the “failure of local leadership” and the “incompetence of the regional security forces.” This allows Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed and the ENDF high command to absolve themselves of responsibility for the catastrophic loss of Amhara, framing it as a localised collapse rather than the direct result of their own failed occupation and subsequent withdrawal.
For the people of Amhara and our Fano freedom fighters, this cynical exercise only deepens our resolve and clarifies the enemy. We do not see the militia as a legitimate force; we see them as “የተሳዳቢ ኃይል” (a force of collaborators) who have chosen to side with the oppressor against their own kin. Their presence, now unsupported by the full might of the ENDF, is an affront that will be met with the unified will of the people.
The regime’s live-fire exercise will yield a result they already know but refuse to accept: a structure built on collaboration and coercion cannot withstand the hurricane of a people’s fight for freedom. The puppets in Bahir Dar and their militia are not just losing the tip of their nose; they are being offered up as a sacrifice by a regime that has already written them off. Their inevitable failure will not be a military setback for Addis Ababa, but a political necessity—final, undeniable proof that their entire project in Amhara was built on a foundation of sand, now washed away by the tide of our resistance.The Inevitable Failure of Puppet Forces: A House Built on Sand
The regime in Addis Ababa, in its desperate attempt to maintain a façade of control, is constructing a security apparatus in Amhara that is doomed to collapse under its own weight. These hastily assembled militia forces, which they grandly label a “strike force,” are an existential and strategic absurdity. They lack the three fundamental pillars of any successful fighting force: experience, conviction, and popular support. When confronted with the hardened reality of our Fano freedom fighters’ resolve, their failure is not merely possible; it is absolutely inevitable. They are a house built on the sand of betrayal, and the tide of our resistance is coming in.
An Amhara adage warns of such futile endeavours: “ውሀ በሰንኪ አይጋጭም” (You cannot strike water with a net). The regime is trying to use a net—their weak, incoherent militia—to strike at the water of popular resistance. But water cannot be struck or caught; it simply flows around the obstacle, engulfing it and rendering it useless. The more force they apply, the more futile their effort becomes. The Fano is the water: fluid, pervasive, essential to the land, and impossible to contain with such a flimsy tool.This inevitability of failure is rooted in three critical weaknesses:
The Chasm of Experience: The Fano freedom fighters are not raw recruits. They are veterans of a brutal two-year war of survival against one of the largest armies in Africa. They have been tempered in the fire of combat, mastering guerrilla tactics, operating in small, agile units, and leveraging intimate knowledge of the terrain. The regime’s militia, by contrast, is composed of conscripts and opportunists given rudimentary training. They are being sent to face a seasoned, adaptive, and tactically sophisticated enemy. It is the equivalent of sending a child with a stick to fight a seasoned warrior.
The Void of Conviction: This is the most profound difference. The Fano freedom fighter is propelled by an unshakeable belief. He fights for his land, his family’s safety, his people’s dignity, and the very right to exist free from persecution. His cause is just, and it is personal. The militiaman has no such moral compass. He fights for a weekly salary, out of fear of his commanders, or under the false promise of power. He is ordered to oppress his own neighbours for a distant regime he likely despises. When faced with the determined gaze of a freedom fighter who is willing to die for his cause, the man who is only fighting for a pay cheque will always break and run.
The Poison of Illegitimacy (Lack of Popular Support): A force cannot operate effectively without the consent and support of the population. The Fano is not just in the community; it is the community. It is fed, sheltered, hidden, and informed by the people, who see it as their sole legitimate protector. The regime’s militia is universally viewed as “የተሳዳቢ ኃይል” (a force of collaborators)—traitors who have sold out their own people for personal gain. They will find no sanctuary, no intelligence, and no welcome. Every farmer’s face is a mask, every village a potential ambush. They are not just fighting the Fano; they are fighting an entire population that wishes for their defeat.
The regime believes it is creating a new army. In reality, it is creating a target. These militia forces will be isolated, demoralised, and operating in a hostile environment. Their weapons will be turned against them, their defections will be constant, and their bases will be vulnerable.
The adage holds true. The net of the militia will thrash against the water, accomplishing nothing before it is itself swallowed by the sea. The regime’s withdrawal and attempt to install proxies is the final, desperate act of a failing occupation. The inevitable collapse of these puppet forces will be the clearest signal yet that the will of the people, when channelled through the righteous strength of the Fano freedom fighters, is an unstoppable force. Their failure is preordained; our victory is inevitable.The Contingency Plan: The Regime’s Cycle of Failure
The regime’s withdrawal strategy is a house of cards, built on the fragile assumption that its proxy militia can somehow succeed where its own national army failed. This is a delusion. The inevitable collapse of these collaborator forces will trigger the next phase of the regime’s cynical playbook: the panicked halt of the ENDF’s withdrawal and a rushed return to the very towns and villages they just vacated. This emergency redeployment will not be a show of strength; it will be a stark, undeniable exposure of this entire manoeuvre as a reckless gamble and a final confirmation of their utter inability to sustain a permanent occupation of Amhara.
An Amhara adage speaks perfectly to this self-defeating cycle: “እንደ ውሻ ወላጆቹን ተመልሶ እንጂ” (Like a dog, it returns to its own vomit). The regime’s policy in Amhara is a toxic substance—a mix of brutality, deceit, and oppression—that it has repeatedly forced down our throats. Their withdrawal was an attempt to regurgitate this failed policy, hoping to replace it with something else. But when that too proves poisonous and is rejected by the body of our nation, their only solution is to return to the same vile strategy. They are incapable of learning, incapable of changing, and doomed to repeat their failures.
This contingency plan reveals the absolute bankruptcy of the regime’s strategy:
The Admission of Proxy Failure: The moment ENDF units are forced to turn around and head back into active combat zones, the regime’s entire narrative collapses. The propaganda of a “successful handover to local forces” and a “calmed security situation” will be instantly revealed as a lie. The world will see that the Prosperity Party’s authority in Amhara is entirely dependent on the naked force of the federal army, and cannot survive without it for even a short period.
The Strategic Nightmare of Redeployment: Militarily, this rushed return would be a disaster. The ENDF is already exhausted, overstretched, and suffering from cripplingly low morale. Being ordered back into a grinding counter-insurgency they were just pulled from would be a devastating blow to troop morale. It would confirm every soldier’s fear that their leadership is incompetent and that there is no end in sight to this futile war. Logistically, shuffling weary units back and forth across the region is a waste of precious resources and exposes them to increased risk of ambush during movement.
Exposing the Cynical Gamble: This contingency plan proves that the withdrawal was never genuine. It was always a calculated risk, a bet made with the lives of Amhara conscripts in the militia. The regime was willing to sacrifice its pawns to see if it could secure our land on the cheap. The hurried return of the ENDF exposes this bet as a loss and reveals the regime’s actions as the deepest form of cynicism—waging war by experiment with no regard for the human cost.
The Ultimate Proof of FANO’s Victory: For our Fano freedom fighters, the return of the ENDF would be the ultimate validation of our strategy and resilience. It would prove that our pressure is so constant and so effective that the regime cannot afford to lessen it, even for a moment. We will have forced their hand, demonstrating that our will to be free is the dominant strategic factor, and that their actions are merely reactions to our relentless pursuit of liberation.
The regime is trapped in a vicious cycle of its own making. It is the dog returning to its own vomit, unable to break free from the toxic logic of occupation. Their contingency plan is not a strategy for victory; it is a blueprint for repeated, escalating failure. Each return, each reoccupation, will be more desperate, more costly, and more hated than the last, until the entire corrosive structure collapses under the weight of its own impossibility.
Our resolve is the constant; their reaction is the variable. And with every panicked return, they simply confirm what we have known all along: that they cannot win, and that our land will, in the end, be free.The Human Cost of Occupation: The Scars That Forge Our Resolve
To speak of troop movements, strategic withdrawals, and political manoeuvring without first acknowledging the ocean of suffering that necessitated this resistance is to commit a grave injustice. The potential withdrawal of the ENDF is not an abstract military decision; it is a reaction to a people pushed beyond the brink. We cannot—we must not—discuss it without bearing witness to the regime’s relentless campaign of terror: the extrajudicial killings, the arbitrary detentions, the torture in hidden dungeons, and the wilful destruction of property that has defined this occupation. These are not collateral damages; they are the very reason our Fano freedom fighters took up arms. They are the fire that forged our resolve, and the world must not be allowed to look away.
An Amhara adage gives voice to the profound, generation-defining pain of such atrocities: “የተገደለውን ልጅ ማማረያ የለም” (There is no reconciliation for a slain child). The regime, in its brutal calculus, believes it can impose a peace through overwhelming force. But how does one reconcile with a mother whose son was dragged from his home and executed in the street? How does one negotiate with a community whose church was desecrated and whose shops were looted by the very soldiers paid to protect them? The depth of this wound is such that it cannot be stitched closed with political promises. It has created a chasm of grief and rage that can only be answered with justice and the absolute guarantee that such horrors will never happen again.
This campaign of terror was designed with a clear, strategic purpose:
To Break the Spirit of the People: The ENDF’s tactics of indiscriminate violence were not the result of poor discipline; they were a weapon of psychological warfare. By terrorising the population—rounding up young men from universities and homes, subjecting them to torture, and destroying the livelihoods of families—they hoped to crush the will to resist. They believed that fear would silence dissent and make the people pliable. Instead, it had the opposite effect. Every arbitrary arrest created five new supporters for the resistance. Every burned farmstead became a rallying cry for vengeance. They sought to break our spirit but only succeeded in hardening it into tempered steel.
To Economically Strangle the Resistance: By destroying grain stores, looting livestock, and shelling marketplaces, the occupation aimed to cripple the local economy that sustains both the people and the Fano freedom fighters. This is a classic tactic of starvation and collective punishment, designed to make survival so difficult that resistance becomes a secondary concern. Yet, it too failed. It taught our communities to become more self-reliant, to share resources more efficiently, and to see the regime not as a government, but as a foreign plunderer.
To Create a Culture of Impunity: The regime operated with the confident assumption that the world would not care, or that it could be convinced these actions were against “terrorists.” They created a culture where a soldier could commit a war crime in the morning and sleep soundly in his barracks at night, answerable to no one. This impunity is the deepest insult to our people and a stark revelation of the regime’s true character. It demonstrates a belief that Amhara lives are cheap and expendable.
For the international community to now discuss a “withdrawal” or a “political process” without first centring this catalogue of atrocities is to become complicit in the whitewashing of crimes against humanity. These acts are not the background to this conflict; they are its heart.
The Fano freedom fighters did not emerge from a vacuum. They are the sons and daughters of these violated communities. They are the brothers of the disappeared, the neighbours of the tortured, the defenders of the destitute. Their rifles are a direct answer to the regime’s boot, their resolve a mirror to its cruelty.The adage holds a solemn truth. There can be no easy reconciliation for what has been done. The withdrawal of the ENDF, however welcome, does not erase these scars. It simply ends the active infliction of new ones. The world must see this withdrawal for what it is: not a benevolent gesture, but a forced retreat in the face of a resistance born from unimaginable suffering. To forget the human cost is to betray the very cause of justice for which we fight. Our resistance is our memorial to the slain, and our freedom will be their only rightful tribute.
The Regime’s Corruption is a Weapon: The Engine of Our Oppression
To speak of the Prosperity Party’s corruption is to miss the mark if one thinks only of stolen money and lavish lifestyles in Addis Ababa. The corruption of Abiy Ahmed’s regime is far more sinister; it is not merely a by-product of misrule, but the very engine of this conflict. It is a sophisticated weapon system, meticulously calibrated to perpetuate a vicious cycle: resources meant for the Amhara people are systematically siphoned away, only to be converted into bullets, tanks, and salaries for the soldiers who occupy and terrorise us. This is not just theft; it is a form of economic warfare that fuels the physical war on our doorsteps.
An Amhara adage captures the self-destructive nature of such a system: “ሸንጋው ራሱን ይበላል” (The wicker basket eats itself). The regime, in its bottomless greed, is consuming the very foundations of its own state. It plunders the resources needed for development, creating the poverty and desperation that fuel dissent. It then uses the plundered wealth to fund a military response to that dissent, which in turn destroys more of the economy, creating more desperation. It is a cannibalistic cycle where the state devours its own people to sustain its own power, becoming weaker and more monstrous with every bite.This corruption operates as a weapon in several concrete ways:
Funding Oppression with Stolen Aid: International loans and aid, meant for infrastructure, healthcare, and education, are diverted into the security sector’s coffers. The fertiliser that was to help our farmers grow food, the medicine for our clinics, the funds for our schools—all are converted into the budget for armoured personnel carriers, drones, and the salaries of the ENDF soldiers who enforce this occupation. The world’s generosity is being weaponised against us.
Creating the Grievance that Fuels Resistance: The regime’s theft is not passive. It actively creates the conditions for rebellion. When a young man sees no future because jobs are reserved for party loyalists and public services have collapsed due to embezzlement, he has nothing left to lose. The profound economic despair engineered by this corruption is the primary recruiting sergeant for our Fano freedom fighters. The regime, by stealing everything, makes the ultimate sacrifice of joining the resistance a rational choice.
Criminalising the Population: The regime’s economic control is total. By strangling legitimate commerce and seizing assets, they force people into the shadow economy to survive. They then use this as a pretext to label entire communities as criminals or supporters of “illegal groups,” justifying further security crackdowns, arbitrary arrests, and the seizure of what little wealth remains. It is a trap designed to legitimise their own violence.
Ensuring Loyalty through patronage: This corrupt system is not just for personal enrichment; it is the glue that holds the regime together. Loyalty from the top generals to the lowliest regional official is purchased through patronage networks. Contracts, positions, and opportunities are distributed not to the competent, but to the compliant. This creates a ruling class whose sole interest is in maintaining the flow of illicit wealth, making them willing to commit any atrocity to protect the system that enriches them.
For the people of Amhara, this is not an abstract political issue. It is the daily reality of seeing our future sold off to fund our own oppression. The Fano freedom fighters understand this intimately. We are not just fighting against soldiers; we are fighting against a kleptocratic system that has turned the Ethiopian state into a criminal enterprise whose business model is the predation of its own people.
The adage is proven true: the wicker basket is indeed eating itself. But we will not be its meal. Our resistance is a fight to break this cycle. It is a demand for a future where our nation’s wealth nourishes its children, rather than funding the weapons that kill them. The regime’s corruption is its greatest weakness, for it has shown every Ethiopian that it cannot build, it can only steal and destroy. And a system that cannot build, but only consume, will inevitably be consumed by the righteous fury of those it has tried to devour.The Fano Advantage: Decentralised Resilience – The Unconquerable Idea
The greatest strength of our Fano freedom fighters, and the primary reason the mighty ENDF war machine has faltered against us, lies not in weaponry or numbers, but in our very structure. Fano is not, and never will be, a conventional army. It is a decentralised network of deeply motivated freedom fighters, organically embedded within and sustained by the community it protects. This is not a weakness to be corrected, but our ultimate strategic advantage. It is the manifestation of a simple, unassailable truth: you cannot defeat an idea whose time has come, and you cannot destroy a resistance that has no single head to cut off.
An Amhara adage encapsulates perfectly this strategic reality: “ሺህ ተበታተነ ኮቴ አንድ ታላቁን እሳት ያስጠፋል” (A thousand scattered embers can extinguish one great fire). The ENDF is that great fire—a centralised, lumbering beast that consumes everything in its path but is utterly powerless against a thousand small, scattered points of resistance. You can bomb a forest, but you cannot bomb every single ember that glows in the ashes; from each one, a new flame can ignite. The regime can raid a village and arrest suspects, but it cannot dismantle an idea that lives in the heart of every farmer, every merchant, and every mother.This decentralised resilience provides us with insurmountable advantages:
The Absence of a Centre of Gravity: A conventional army has a headquarters, supply depots, communication hubs, and key leadership—all “centres of gravity” whose destruction can cripple the entire force. The Fano has none of this. Our command is localised, our supplies are distributed amongst the people, and our leadership emerges naturally from within communities. The ENDF’s drones and intelligence services hunt for a command structure that simply does not exist in a traditional form. They are trying to fight a ghost.
Unbreakable Morale and Commitment: A Fano freedom fighter is not a conscript. He is a son of the soil, defending his literal backyard. His family lives in the village he is protecting. His motivation is not a salary or an order from a distant general, but a visceral need to safeguard everything he holds dear. This creates a level of commitment, initiative, and courage that a paid soldier can never replicate. He fights with his soul, not just his weapon.
Organic Intelligence and Logistics: The Fano does not need a complex intelligence apparatus. The people are our eyes and ears. Every civilian is a sentinel. An ENDF convoy cannot move without us knowing its size, direction, and intention long before it arrives. Similarly, the community handles our logistics. We are fed, sheltered, and hidden by the people, making our supply lines invisible and unassailable. The ENDF, by contrast, moves like a blind giant, reliant on vulnerable supply trucks and unreliable informants.
Adaptability and Tactical Innovation: Without a rigid chain of command, individual Fano units can adapt instantly to changing circumstances. They can make tactical decisions on the spot, based on local knowledge. They can strike with devastating effect and melt away before the ENDF’s slow, centralised command structure can even process what has happened and issue a response. We are fluid; they are rigid. In this asymmetry, we hold all the initiative.
The regime, schooled in conventional warfare, does not know how to combat such a network. They are trying to fight the 20th-century war of mass and firepower, while we are fighting the 21st-century war of ideas and distributed resolve.
The adage tells the whole story. The regime’s great fire of oppression—with its tanks, its jets, and its battalions—is being smothered by the thousand scattered embers of our resistance. Each ember is a Fano cell, a defiant village, a whispered warning, a hidden rifle. You cannot defeat this. You can only try to contain it, and as the ENDF is learning, even that is impossible. The idea of freedom has taken root, and its time has most certainly come. This decentralised resilience is not just our way of fighting; it is the very embodiment of our inevitable victory.Popular Support is Our Foundation: The Unassailable Fortress
The chasm that separates our Fano freedom fighters from the regime’s army is not measured in weapons or numbers, but in the very earth beneath our feet. It is the fundamental difference in motivation. The ENDF and the Prosperity Party fight for the abstract and corrosive pursuit of power—to seize it, to consolidate it, to wield it over others. We fight for the most concrete and sacred things imaginable: our homes, our families, and our very survival. This is not a conflict of two armies, but a conflict between occupation and existence. And it is this truth—that every farmer, every merchant, and every mother is a steadfast supporter of our cause—that forms an unassailable fortress no army can breach.
An Amhara adage speaks to this immutable source of strength: “የሕዝብ አፍ ጠጅ ነው፣ የሕዝብ ልብ ወደድ ነው” (The mouth of the people is honey, the heart of the people is a sharpened stake). To the world, the people may speak the sweet words of compliance forced upon them by the occupier. But in their hearts, where truth resides, their will is honed to a razor-sharp point, ready to defend what is theirs. The regime hears the honey and believes it has won. It is blind to the stake aimed at its heart. Our strength is that we are the people, and the people are us.
This popular foundation provides an insurmountable strategic advantage:
The Moral Imperative: Our struggle is one of defence, not aggression. A Fano freedom fighter picks up a rifle to prevent a soldier from kicking down his mother’s door. He stands guard so that his sister will not be a victim of the sexual violence that has been a weapon of this occupation. This moral clarity is a force multiplier. It grants courage that cannot be instilled through training or purchased with a salary. The ENDF soldier, by contrast, is an instrument of invasion in his own country. He is the one kicking down the door, a reality that erodes his spirit and saps his will to fight.
The Universe of Support: The regime’s support is a narrow, self-serving circle of party elites and profiteers. Ours is the entire population. The farmer who buries a cache of supplies in his field is a Fano logistician. The mother who signals the approach of an ENDF patrol with a specific hanging of her laundry is a Fano sentry. The merchant who refuses to sell to regime officials is enforcing a peaceful blockade. The people do not just support the resistance; they are the resistance. This makes our network invisible, omnipresent, and utterly resilient.
The Failure of Intelligence: The ENDF’s intelligence apparatus is rendered useless. They can interrogate, bribe, and threaten, but they cannot penetrate a wall of silent solidarity. When an entire population chooses to see and hear nothing for the occupiers, the occupier becomes blind and deaf. They move in a hostile landscape where every friendly face is a potential mask and every gesture of help a potential trap. This paranoia is debilitating.
The Guarantee of Longevity: A movement fighting for power can be negotiated with; its leaders can be bought or co-opted. A movement fighting for survival cannot be bargained into submission. You cannot offer a man a position in government in exchange for his willingness to see his village burned and his children starve. The cause of survival is non-negotiable. It ensures that even if a current leader falls, a thousand others will rise from the same soil, for the same reason.
The regime fights for a map in an office in Addis Ababa. We fight for the land that map represents. They fight for control over people. We fight for the people themselves. This is why they cannot win. A military can occupy territory, but it cannot occupy the human spirit. It can instil fear, but it cannot manufacture legitimacy.
The adage holds the ultimate truth. The regime may hear the honeyed words of forced compliance, but it is destined to be impaled upon the sharpened stake of the people’s true will. The ENDF is not just fighting the Fano freedom fighters; it is fighting the very essence of Amhara itself. And as countless oppressors throughout history have learned, you may win battles against an army, but you can never win a war against a people who have decided they would rather die on their feet than live on their knees. Our foundation is not made of brick and mortar; it is made of the unbreakable will of millions. And that is a fortress that will never fall.The Illusion of Governance: A Palace Built on Bayonets
In the city of Bahir Dar, on the shores of Lake Tana, sits a government that does not govern. It issues decrees that are ignored, gives orders that are not followed, and presides over a population that views it with contempt. The so-called regional administration of the Prosperity Party is a fiction, a stage play performed under the gun-sights of the Ethiopian National Defence Force (ENDF). Its purported authority is a mirage, vanishing the moment one looks past the barrels of the rifles that enforce it. Without the constant, looming presence of the ENDF, this entire structure would collapse instantly, revealing itself to be the hollow façade it has always been.
An Amhara adage exposes the fragile nature of such imposed power: “እግሩን ከጠረጴዛ በታች ያወጣ ሰው ብቻውን ይጨርሳል” (He who takes his leg from under the table will finish his meal alone). The regime in Addis Ababa is the leg holding up the table of its puppet government in Bahir Dar. The moment it withdraws its support—its military, its funding, its political cover—the table collapses. The so-called administrators, left alone with their empty titles and the furious judgement of the people they betrayed, will be unable to finish the meal of power they were promised. They will be left isolated, exposed, and utterly powerless.
This illusion is maintained through several transparent mechanisms:
The Architecture of Coercion, Not Consent: True governance derives its power from the consent of the governed. The Bahir Dar administration derives its power from the fear instilled by the ENDF checkpoints that ring the city, the patrols that stalk its streets, and the nocturnal raids that drag critics from their homes. Its “authority” is not recognised; it is enforced. It rules through the terror of its sponsor, not the trust of its people. Remove the enforcer, and the authority vanishes.
The Fiction of Local Legitimacy: The officials appointed by the Prosperity Party are not local leaders who have earned the respect of their community. They are outsiders or collaborators selected for their loyalty to Addis Ababa, not to Amhara. They do not walk among the people; they are transported in armoured convoys from fortified compounds. They are seen not as representatives, but as overseers—“የተሳዳቢ” (collaborators)—administering an occupation on behalf of a foreign power. They have no roots in the soil they purport to rule.
Administrative Irrelevance: What does this government actually provide? It does not ensure security; it is the source of insecurity. It does not foster economic prosperity; it presides over an economy shattered by its own policies and the corruption of its masters. Its courts do not deliver justice; they legitimise political persecution. It is a parasitic entity, consuming resources and producing only oppression. The real governance—the organisation of communities, the dispensation of local justice, the care for the vulnerable—is done by traditional structures and, increasingly, by the civil wings of our resistance.
The Imminent Collapse: The withdrawal of the ENDF, even partially, is the ultimate test of this illusion. The moment the soldiers leave a district, the administrator’s phone calls go unanswered. His orders become mere words on paper, blown away by the wind of popular defiance. He is left a mayor of nothing, a general without an army, a ruler without subjects. His collapse is not a possibility; it is a mathematical certainty. The façade will crumble to reveal the empty space behind it.
For our Fano freedom fighters and the people of Amhara, this so-called government is a joke told in poor taste. We do not recognise its right to rule us. We see it for what it is: the administrative wing of our occupation, a tool for laundering the regime’s brutality into a false image of legitimacy.
The adage holds a stark warning for the collaborators in Bahir Dar. The leg of the ENDF is being pulled from under their table. The regime in Addis is already preparing to have its meal elsewhere. When it does, those who relied on it will be left alone at the collapsing table, to face the righteous judgement of a people they sought to enslave. Their authority was always an illusion, and the dawn of our freedom will be the light that finally makes that undeniable.Historical Parallels: The Regime’s Playbook of Failure
The current strategy of the Prosperity Party regime—withdrawing its battered core forces and attempting to replace them with hastily assembled local proxies—is not an innovation. It is a page torn from a well-thumbed and thoroughly discredited playbook of failed Ethiopian regimes. History offers a clear and unequivocal lesson: those who fight for freedom, for their land, and for their very existence, will always hold an unassailable advantage over those who fight for a pay cheque, out of coercion, or for the temporary favour of a distant dictator. This cyclical return to a failed strategy is not a sign of the regime’s strength, but a testament to its poverty of ideas and its ignorance of its own country’s history.
An Amhara adage speaks to this foolishness of repeating doomed endeavours: “በድሮ ኮሪማ ተማሪ አይደለሁም” (I am not a student of an old quack doctor). The regime in Addis Ababa is precisely that—a student of old quacks. It is applying the poisonous prescriptions of previous tyrannies, ignoring the fact that the patient—the people of Ethiopia—has already built up a powerful immunity to such failed cures. They are diagnosing a thirst for freedom as a disease to be crushed, and in doing so, they ensure their own eventual demise.This historical parallel manifests in several critical ways:
The Derg’s Failed Peasant Militias: The Marxist Derg regime, in its war against the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) and other ethno-nationalist movements, attempted the exact same strategy. It created local peasant militias, like the infamous ‘nech lebash’ (‘cadre’) forces, to act as its eyes, ears, and first line of defence in rural areas. These militias, often coerced into service and lacking any conviction for the Derg’s communist cause, were universally hated as collaborators. They proved utterly ineffective against the highly motivated TPLF guerrillas, who enjoyed deep popular support. The militias fractured, deserted, and were systematically neutralised, contributing significantly to the Derg’s collapse. The Prosperity Party is now making the same error, assuming that putting a uniform on a conscript will change the fact that his heart beats with the people.
The TPLF’s Own Contradictions: Ironically, the very group that defeated the Derg later fell into the same trap when it became the central power in Ethiopia. During its decades of rule, the EPRDF-led government, dominated by the TPLF, also attempted to create and rely on local proxy structures in various regions to enforce its will and suppress dissent. These structures, built on patronage and fear rather than genuine loyalty, also proved brittle and collapsed when truly challenged, revealing the hollow core of the administration’s authority. The lesson is clear: a government that relies on proxies to control its own people is a government that has already lost its legitimacy.
The Unchangeable Arithmetic of Motivation: This is the constant in Ethiopian history. The fighter who is motivated by a tangible cause—defence of home, family, and identity—will always outperform the fighter motivated by abstract ideology or material gain. The Fano freedom fighter shivering in the highlands knows exactly why he holds his rifle: to prevent the soldier from entering his village. The regime’s militiaman, by contrast, is fighting for a weekly stipend from a government he may despise, under commanders he does not trust, against people who may be his kin. This is a battle of the soul against the wallet, and history shows us the soul wins every time.
A Regime Deaf to History: The most telling indicator of the regime’s desperation is its inability to learn. By resurrecting this failed strategy, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s government demonstrates that it has no new ideas. It is trapped in a cycle of oppression, blindly using the same tools that shattered in the hands of its predecessors. It believes its own propaganda, convinced that this time will be different because it is in charge. It fails to understand that the variable is not the ruler in Addis Ababa, but the constant, unyielding will of the people to be free.
The message for us is one of powerful confidence. We have seen this story before. We know how it ends. The regime’s proxies will fracture and dissolve, just as they always have. Their betrayal will be remembered, and their failure will be absolute. Our cause, rooted in the righteous defence of our homeland, is etched into the very stones of Ethiopian history. We are not merely fighting a battle; we are fulfilling a historical pattern where tyranny, no matter how it dresses itself or what proxies it employs, is always, inevitably, defeated by the enduring spirit of freedom. The quack doctors of oppression have always failed, and this latest student of their dismal art is destined for the same fate.
The Getachew Reda Betrayal: A Lesson in the Bankruptcy of the Elite
The recent spectacle of Getachew Reda, a once-fervent stalwart of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), lavishing praise upon Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed is more than just political theatre; it is a masterclass in the moral bankruptcy that defines Ethiopia’s ruling class. This shameless about-face is not an anomaly, but a stark revelation of a pervasive culture of opportunism where principles are not just compromised but are openly auctioned to the highest bidder. For us, the people of Amhara and our Fano freedom fighters, this cynical transaction justifies our deepest conviction: that engaging with a corrupt and unprincipled system is not only futile but beneath our dignity.
An Amhara adage cuts to the heart of such behaviour: “የወገን አይደለሁ የምላሴ ጫፍ አይቀምስም” (I am not a partisan; the tip of my tongue does not taste). This is the declaration of an unprincipled opportunist—one who claims no lasting allegiance, whose word has no consistent flavour, and who serves only his own immediate appetite. Getachew Reda’s sudden, sycophantic praise for Abiy Ahmed—a man he once portrayed as a genocidal adversary—shows a tongue that has tasted and spat out every ideology it has ever professed. It has no lasting flavour of principle, only the transient taste of power.This betrayal is instructive for several reasons:
The Exposure of a Political Caste: The incident exposes the Ethiopian political elite, across party and ethnic lines, as a self-serving caste utterly divorced from the people they claim to represent. Their wars are not fought for ideals, but for power. Their alliances are not built on shared values, but on shared interests in accruing wealth and influence. The suffering of millions in Tigray, Amhara, and Oromia is merely the backdrop for their personal dramas of ambition and survival. Getachew Reda is not an outlier; he is the perfect symbol of this system.
The Sacrifice of Principle for Position: This is the most damning aspect. Getachew Reda was a central figure in a party that led Tigray into a devastating war against Abiy Ahmed’s government, a conflict that incurred unimaginable human cost. To now publicly align with the very architect of that suffering, for the sake of a political position or personal survival, is to spit on the graves of the fallen. It demonstrates that for these elites, the lives of their own people are merely pawns in a game of power, to be sacrificed and then forgotten when the political winds change.
Justifying Our Refusal to Engage: This spectacle vindicates our resistance’s complete rejection of the political process orchestrated by Addis Ababa. How can we be expected to negotiate with a system where a man’s deepest convictions can be overturned overnight for a seat at the table? It reveals the so-called “national dialogue” and “reconciliation” as a cynical game of musical chairs for the elite, where the music is composed of the people’s suffering. We refuse to be part of a process where our grievances, our losses, and our quest for justice become mere bargaining chips for men without shame or memory.
The Contrast with Our Cause: This moral vacuity throws the righteousness of our own struggle into sharp relief. The Fano freedom fighter does not fight for a political appointment or a ministerial portfolio. He fights for non-negotiable principles: the defence of his land, the safety of his family, and the right to self-determination. Our cause cannot be bought, sold, or betrayed at a meeting in Addis Ababa because it is not a commodity; it is a sacred duty etched into our very being. We are partisans for our people, and the flavour of our commitment is constant and true.
The Getachew Reda betrayal is therefore a gift to our movement. It strips away the pretence and reveals the rotten core of the existing political order. It shows the people of Ethiopia that the conflict is not between competing nationalisms or legitimate political visions, but between a corrupt, unprincipled elite and the masses who yearn for genuine freedom and accountability.
The adage rings true. We see the tip of the tongue that has no lasting taste. And so, we turn away from it. We place our trust not in the shifting allegiances of politicians in comfortable offices, but in the unwavering spirit of our people and the righteous strength of our Fano freedom fighters. Their betrayal is their shame; our constancy is our strength.The Absence of Genuine Opposition: The Amhara Vanguard
Within the hallowed halls and polished cafés of Addis Ababa, the concept of political opposition has been systematically euthanised. The so-called opposition parties that operate with the regime’s permission are either co-opted, their leaders seduced by the allure of minor concessions and a place at the table, or they are utterly silenced through intimidation, imprisonment, or exile. This calculated neutering of dissent in the capital is not an isolated event; it is the regime’s primary strategy for survival. It is precisely why our struggle in Amhara has transcended its regional boundaries. We are no longer fighting merely for Amhara; we have become the reluctant but resolute vanguard for all Ethiopians who dream of a truly free, democratic, and just nation.
An Amhara adage speaks to the danger of a silenced people: “ሽብሹቡን የማይገልጥ ዛፍ በራሱ ግድግዳ ይጠፋል” (A tree that does not shed its rotten fruit will be destroyed by its own decay). The political system in Addis Ababa is that tree, clinging to its rotten, co-opted opposition, refusing to let it fall. By preventing healthy opposition from forming, the regime allows its own corruption and tyranny to fester unchecked. This internal decay will eventually consume the entire tree, bringing it crashing down. Our resistance in Amhara is the necessary, violent shedding of that rotten fruit—a painful but essential process to save the wider forest of Ethiopia from total ruin.
This reality manifests in several critical ways:
The Illusion of Choice: The regime permits a managed form of opposition to create a façade of pluralism for international observers. These sanctioned parties debate trivialities, careful never to challenge the core architecture of Prosperity Party power or question the brutal actions of the security state. They are actors in a play, performing democracy, while the real decisions are made in secret by a small, unaccountable clique. Their existence is meant to placate and confuse, providing a safety valve for frustration without ever allowing it to threaten the status quo.
The Sterilisation of Dissent: Any figure or movement that demonstrates genuine popular appeal and refuses to be co-opted is met with overwhelming force. Their platforms are shut down, their members arrested on trump-up terrorism charges, and their voices smeared through a compliant media apparatus. This has created a political desert in the capital, where no independent grassroots movement can take root for fear of being scorched by the regime’s security apparatus.
Shifting the Frontline of Freedom: With the capital gagged and the formal political space closed, the fight for Ethiopia’s soul has necessarily moved to the peripheries. It has moved to where the people still have the means and the spirit to resist: to Amhara, to Oromia, to every region where the regime’s boot is felt most heavily. Our war is not a secessionist conflict. It is a national liberation struggle happening on regional frontlines because the centre has been captured and silenced.
Bearing the Burden for All: The Fano freedom fighters understand this implicitly. We are not just absorbing the blows meant to break Amhara; we are absorbing the blows meant to break the spirit of every Ethiopian who desires change. Every ENDF soldier tied down in our highlands is a soldier, not terrorising another community. Every instance of our resistance chips away at the regime’s aura of invincibility, giving hope to silenced people across the nation. We are fighting the battle that the opposition in Addis Ababa is too afraid, too compromised, or too powerless to wage.
Therefore, to dismiss this as an “Amhara issue” is to fundamentally misunderstand the nature of Abiy Ahmed’s government. This is a regime that consolidates power by eliminating all challengers, everywhere. Today it is Amhara in the crosshairs; tomorrow it will be another group that refuses to kneel.
The adage warns us. The tree is rotting from within. The Fano freedom fighters are the storm that is shaking it, forcing the rotten fruit to fall so that new, healthy growth may one day take its place. Our struggle is the last, best hope for a democratic Ethiopia because it is the only struggle left that is willing to pay the price for it. We fight for Amhara, yes, but in doing so, we carry the hopes of a nation stifled by tyranny, proving that while opposition in Addis may be silent, the sound of freedom firing back in Amhara echoes for everyone.The Regime’s True Fear: The Uncontrollable Flame of a Liberated Amhara
At the heart of Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s political calculations lies a deep, abiding, and ultimately rational terror: the fear of a strong, united, and autonomous Amhara people. This is not a passing concern; it is the foundational anxiety of his regime. Every drone strike, every mass arrest, this core dread drives every brutal occupation. A military withdrawal from our land, even a partial and calculated one, represents his ultimate nightmare because it risks creating precisely what he has spent years trying to prevent: a consolidated, liberated zone that operates outside his control. This would not merely be a tactical setback; it would become a powerful beacon of hope, setting an example that would electrify and embolden every other oppressed group across the Ethiopian empire.
An Amhara adage reveals the strategic wisdom behind this fear: “አንድ ገበሬ ያላቸውን ሁሉ አንድ ላይ ቆርጦ ሊጨርስ አይችልም” (A farmer cannot finish cutting all he has at once). Abiy Ahmed is that overwhelmed farmer. The Ethiopian state is a field of countless challenges—insurgencies in Oromia, festering resentment in the South, and the volatile aftermath of the war in Tigray. He has been trying to cut everything down at once, but the Amhara resistance has proven to be the toughest, most deeply rooted crop. A withdrawal from Amhara is an admission that he must let this one grow for now, to focus on cutting elsewhere. But his great fear is that if he turns his back, this single crop will grow so large and strong that it will eventually overshadow the entire field, its seeds spreading to every corner and making the whole field unmanageable.
This fear is rational and manifests in several concrete ways:
The Domino Effect of Example: The greatest threat to any empire is a successful example of defiance. If Amhara, through the sheer resilience of its people and the Fano freedom fighters, can force the ENDF to withdraw and establish functional self-administration, it sends an unmistakable message to Oromia, Sidama, Wolayta, and others: It is possible. It proves that the regime’s armour is not impenetrable, that its will can be broken. This would shatter the myth of the regime’s invincibility and likely trigger a cascade of renewed resistance across the nation, stretching its resources to breaking point.
The Loss of Economic and Strategic Heartland: Amhara is not just any region. It is an agricultural powerhouse, a source of immense human capital, and holds profound strategic and symbolic significance as the custodian of Ethiopia’s ancient history. A Amhara outside of Addis Ababa’s firm control represents a massive loss of revenue, resources, and national prestige. It would create a rival pole of power that challenges the centralised, Oromo-centric vision of the Prosperity Party, fundamentally altering the balance of power in the Horn of Africa.
The Unravelling of a Centralised State Model: Abiy Ahmed’s project, despite its fake ethnic federalism, is one of hyper-centralised control. A liberated Amhara, governing its own affairs and providing for its own security, would be a direct rejection of this model. It would demonstrate that a decentralised, bottom-up approach is not only possible but preferable, empowering other nations and nationalities to demand the same. This threatens the very existence of the Abiyist state, which relies on sucking resources and power from the peripheries to the centre.
The Moral and Psychological Defeat: Ultimately, a withdrawal and the subsequent consolidation of Amhara would be the most profound psychological defeat for the regime. It would be a public admission that their most powerful military, their propaganda machine, and their security apparatus were defeated not by another state, but by the will of a single people. This loss of face would be catastrophic, emboldening internal rivals within the Oromo Power structure and the military, and exposing Abiy as a leader who could not hold his own country together.
Therefore, the regime’s withdrawal is not a sign of confidence, but a terrified gamble. They are hoping to create just enough space to manage other fires, while using proxies to ensure Amhara does not fully consolidate. But they are fighting against an inevitable truth.
The adage proves correct. The farmer cannot cut it all at once. In his desperation to maintain control over the entire field, he has failed to tend to any of it properly. The Amhara crop has grown strong and resilient, and its roots run too deep to be easily pulled. The regime’s true fear is not just our strength, but the hope it gives others. They are not afraid of a rebellion; they are afraid of a revolution. And that is a fear that no amount of military hardware can ever truly extinguish.The Dawning Realisation: The Unvanquishable Spirit
The planned withdrawal of the ENDF from Amhara soil is being packaged by the regime’s propagandists as a strategic recalibration, a gesture of peace, or a confident consolidation of forces. We must not be fooled by this pageantry. This manoeuvre is none of those things. It is a silent, yet thunderous, admission of defeat. It is the reluctant recognition of a fundamental truth that we have known from the very beginning: that the spirit of a people, once awakened and united in a righteous cause, cannot be permanently crushed by tanks, drones, or the climate of fear they seek to create. This is not a moment for caution; it is the dawning realisation that the tide of this struggle has turned, irrevocably, in our favour.
An Amhara adage speaks to this inevitable triumph of enduring spirit over temporary force: “ፀሃይን በምሰሯ አይገልጥም” (You cannot cover the sun with your fingers). For two years, the regime has tried to use its military might as fingers to blot out the sun of our freedom. They have sent their tanks to create shadows and their drones to simulate a perpetual eclipse. But the sun remains. The withdrawal is the moment they admit their hand is too small, their effort futile. They are pulling their aching fingers back, and the full, brilliant light of our resistance is now shining through, exposing their retreat for what it is: a surrender to the inevitable.
This dawning realisation is rooted in several undeniable truths:
The Failure of Maximum Force: The regime deployed everything in its arsenal. It used artillery against urban centres, drones for targeted assassinations, and its entire military doctrine of collective punishment. It employed a siege strategy designed to starve us into submission, both materially and spiritually. It failed. The fact that it is now withdrawing is categorical proof that its maximum application of violence was insufficient to achieve its goals. The cost of maintaining the occupation—in financial, military, and political terms—has become unsustainable. They are not choosing to leave; they are being forced to.
The Bankruptcy of Their Narrative: The withdrawal dismantles the regime’s core narrative. They labelled us “junta,” “terrorists,” and “criminals” to justify a war of annihilation. But armies do not withdraw from territories plagued by terrorists; they redouble their efforts. A withdrawal signals that the opponent is not a mere criminal element to be eradicated, but a political and military force that must be reckoned with. It is an unwitting acknowledgement of our legitimacy and our power.
The Victory of Asymmetric Will: This moment proves that in a conflict between an occupying force and a popular resistance, the advantage ultimately lies with the side that has the deeper will. The ENDF soldier’s will is finite, sustained by orders and a salary. The Fano freedom fighter’s will is infinite, sustained by the sacred duty to defend his homeland, his family, and his very existence. The regime has finally realised that it cannot compete with this. They can inflict pain, but they cannot break our purpose. They can win battles, but they cannot win the war for our souls.
The Tide is Turning: The withdrawal is the first tangible, large-scale evidence that our resistance is succeeding. It is the concrete result of every ambush endured, every sacrifice made, and every moment of unwavering defiance. It signals a shift from defence to a new phase of strategic initiative. The psychological impact is immense: for our people, it is a validation of their immense suffering and a source of renewed strength; for the regime’s soldiers and collaborators, it is a terrifying preview of their ultimate defeat.
Therefore, we must see this not as an end, but as a new beginning. The regime’s realisation is dawning, but our vigilance must not set. Their admission of defeat does not mean they will not try new, more desperate strategies. They will use proxies, they will employ deception, and they will seek to divide us.
But the adage holds: the sun cannot be covered. The light of our cause is now too bright. The withdrawal is the proof. The spirit of the Amhara people, channelled through the courage of the Fano freedom fighters, has proven to be an army that no conventional force can defeat. The tide has turned. The long, dark night of occupation is beginning to break, and the dawn of our freedom is finally on the horizon.
Let us be unequivocal: this is not a gesture of goodwill or a strategic masterstroke. It is a confession. It confesses to the staggering financial drain of maintaining a full-scale occupation army in the highlands for over two years. It confesses to the haemorrhaging of morale within the ENDF ranks, where young soldiers from Oromia, Sidama, and the South have no stomach for killing Amhara farmers who only wish to defend their land and their dignity. Most importantly, it confesses to the indomitable power of popular resistance. The Fano freedom fighters have proven to be an unconquerable force, not because of superior weaponry, but because they are the water in which the people swim. The ENDF, for all its tanks and drones, is the oil failing to mix.
This core message, therefore, resonates on two levels. To the puppet regime, it is a chilling warning of the isolation to come. To us, the people, and to our Fano freedom fighters, it is the clearest signal yet that our resilience is paying dividends. The occupier is exhausted. The dawn we have fought for, sacrificed for, and believed in through the darkest nights is finally beginning to break over the peaks of our ancient land. The mortar has proven too heavy for the dog; the tie that binds is breaking.
The fatigue of the ENDF is the direct achievement of the resilience of the Amhara people and the strategic brilliance of the Fano freedom fighters. We have not just fought them; we have exhausted them. We have not just resisted them; we have broken their will to fight. Their retreat is the tangible proof of our advancing victory. The war is not over, but the tide has turned irreversibly. The occupier is weary, and the defender, fighting for his very existence, is eternally strong.
This redeployment is a double-edged sword. While it grants us a moment of reprieve and an opportunity to consolidate, it also reveals the reckless character of those in power. We are not fooled by his motives. We see his withdrawal for what it is: not a path to peace for Amhara, but the first movement of troops in a gamble that could see all of Ethiopia consumed by a fire of his making. Our vigilance, therefore, must be greater than ever. We must use this window not just to secure our land, but to prepare for the wider tremors that this regime’s desperation may unleash upon us all.
An Amhara adage speaks directly to this truth: “አህያ በገደል ላይ አይታለም” (A donkey cannot be hidden on a hill). For too long, the regime in Addis Ababa has tried to disguise the donkey of its military occupation as a legitimate policing action on the hill of its propaganda. But the beast is now plain for all to see. The world has witnessed the grotesque mismatch: a national army, equipped with heavy artillery and drones, deployed against its own citizens for the crime of demanding justice and autonomy. The charade is over.
There is an Amhara adage that perfectly captures this strategy of delaying the unavoidable: “ጅቡ በቅሎን አይገታም” (Hyena does not catch a mare by chasing it). The ENDF, the hyena in this instance, has been chasing the spirited mare of Amhara’s resistance for two years. It is now exhausted, wounded, and realises it cannot catch its prey through direct pursuit. So, it is changing tactics. It is slinking back, not to give up, but to find a new ambush point—to try to lure the mare into a trap or to wait for it to lower its guard. The regime is retreating from the chase, hoping to force a different, more manageable endgame.
The regime hopes to manage the inevitable. But as the adage teaches, the hyena’s new tactics will ultimately fail against the strength and spirit of the mare. Their retreat, however slow, still moves in only one direction: backwards. And with every step they take back, the ground they leave is ground we will secure, not for a political deal, but for a lasting victory.
An Amhara adage speaks directly to the profound folly of this scheme: “በሌተኛው እግር ወደብ አይገባም” (You cannot enter a harbour with someone else’s leg). The harbour here is the security and control of Amhara. The regime, having found its own legs broken and crippled by two years of war against our Fano freedom fighters, is now trying to limp into that harbour using the legs of hastily recruited proxies. It is a futile effort. You cannot truly possess or control a land with an army that has no roots, no soul, and no stake in its survival.
The adage holds true. You cannot navigate the treacherous waters of Amhara’s resistance with the borrowed legs of conscripts. The regime, in its arrogance, is trying to do just that. It is a strategy destined for a swift and spectacular failure, proving once again that you cannot purchase the spirit of resistance, and you cannot defeat a people who are defending their own land.
The regime’s strategy is built on a fundamental miscalculation. They believe they are testing the waters of a river. In truth, they are testing the temperature of a volcano. The moment the ENDF steps back, the universal support for the Fano freedom fighters will become even more apparent. The militia, lacking any public legitimacy and facing the righteous anger of their own communities, will fracture, desert, or be swiftly neutralised. The regime’s first test will likely be its last, proving once again that you cannot cross the river of a people’s will with the weak legs of a puppet army. The current is too strong, and the depth of our resolve is far greater than they have ever dared to imagine.
The regime’s live-fire exercise will yield a result they already know but refuse to accept: a structure built on collaboration and coercion cannot withstand the hurricane of a people’s fight for freedom. The puppets in Bahir Dar and their militia are not just losing the tip of their nose; they are being offered up as a sacrifice by a regime that has already written them off. Their inevitable failure will not be a military setback for Addis Ababa, but a political necessity—final, undeniable proof that their entire project in Amhara was built on a foundation of sand, now washed away by the tide of our resistance.
An Amhara adage warns of such futile endeavours: “ውሀ በሰንኪ አይጋጭም” (You cannot strike water with a net). The regime is trying to use a net—their weak, incoherent militia—to strike at the water of popular resistance. But water cannot be struck or caught; it simply flows around the obstacle, engulfing it and rendering it useless. The more force they apply, the more futile their effort becomes. The Fano is the water: fluid, pervasive, essential to the land, and impossible to contain with such a flimsy tool.
The adage holds true. The net of the militia will thrash against the water, accomplishing nothing before it is itself swallowed by the sea. The regime’s withdrawal and attempt to install proxies is the final, desperate act of a failing occupation. The inevitable collapse of these puppet forces will be the clearest signal yet that the will of the people, when channelled through the righteous strength of the Fano freedom fighters, is an unstoppable force. Their failure is preordained; our victory is inevitable.
Our resolve is the constant; their reaction is the variable. And with every panicked return, they simply confirm what we have known all along: that they cannot win, and that our land will, in the end, be free.
The Fano freedom fighters did not emerge from a vacuum. They are the sons and daughters of these violated communities. They are the brothers of the disappeared, the neighbours of the tortured, the defenders of the destitute. Their rifles are a direct answer to the regime’s boot, their resolve a mirror to its cruelty.
An Amhara adage captures the self-destructive nature of such a system: “ሸንጋው ራሱን ይበላል” (The wicker basket eats itself). The regime, in its bottomless greed, is consuming the very foundations of its own state. It plunders the resources needed for development, creating the poverty and desperation that fuel dissent. It then uses the plundered wealth to fund a military response to that dissent, which in turn destroys more of the economy, creating more desperation. It is a cannibalistic cycle where the state devours its own people to sustain its own power, becoming weaker and more monstrous with every bite.
The adage is proven true: the wicker basket is indeed eating itself. But we will not be its meal. Our resistance is a fight to break this cycle. It is a demand for a future where our nation’s wealth nourishes its children, rather than funding the weapons that kill them. The regime’s corruption is its greatest weakness, for it has shown every Ethiopian that it cannot build, it can only steal and destroy. And a system that cannot build, but only consume, will inevitably be consumed by the righteous fury of those it has tried to devour.
An Amhara adage encapsulates perfectly this strategic reality: “ሺህ ተበታተነ ኮቴ አንድ ታላቁን እሳት ያስጠፋል” (A thousand scattered embers can extinguish one great fire). The ENDF is that great fire—a centralised, lumbering beast that consumes everything in its path but is utterly powerless against a thousand small, scattered points of resistance. You can bomb a forest, but you cannot bomb every single ember that glows in the ashes; from each one, a new flame can ignite. The regime can raid a village and arrest suspects, but it cannot dismantle an idea that lives in the heart of every farmer, every merchant, and every mother.
The adage tells the whole story. The regime’s great fire of oppression—with its tanks, its jets, and its battalions—is being smothered by the thousand scattered embers of our resistance. Each ember is a Fano cell, a defiant village, a whispered warning, a hidden rifle. You cannot defeat this. You can only try to contain it, and as the ENDF is learning, even that is impossible. The idea of freedom has taken root, and its time has most certainly come. This decentralised resilience is not just our way of fighting; it is the very embodiment of our inevitable victory.
The adage holds the ultimate truth. The regime may hear the honeyed words of forced compliance, but it is destined to be impaled upon the sharpened stake of the people’s true will. The ENDF is not just fighting the Fano freedom fighters; it is fighting the very essence of Amhara itself. And as countless oppressors throughout history have learned, you may win battles against an army, but you can never win a war against a people who have decided they would rather die on their feet than live on their knees. Our foundation is not made of brick and mortar; it is made of the unbreakable will of millions. And that is a fortress that will never fall.
The adage holds a stark warning for the collaborators in Bahir Dar. The leg of the ENDF is being pulled from under their table. The regime in Addis is already preparing to have its meal elsewhere. When it does, those who relied on it will be left alone at the collapsing table, to face the righteous judgement of a people they sought to enslave. Their authority was always an illusion, and the dawn of our freedom will be the light that finally makes that undeniable.
An Amhara adage speaks to this foolishness of repeating doomed endeavours: “በድሮ ኮሪማ ተማሪ አይደለሁም” (I am not a student of an old quack doctor). The regime in Addis Ababa is precisely that—a student of old quacks. It is applying the poisonous prescriptions of previous tyrannies, ignoring the fact that the patient—the people of Ethiopia—has already built up a powerful immunity to such failed cures. They are diagnosing a thirst for freedom as a disease to be crushed, and in doing so, they ensure their own eventual demise.
An Amhara adage cuts to the heart of such behaviour: “የወገን አይደለሁ የምላሴ ጫፍ አይቀምስም” (I am not a partisan; the tip of my tongue does not taste). This is the declaration of an unprincipled opportunist—one who claims no lasting allegiance, whose word has no consistent flavour, and who serves only his own immediate appetite. Getachew Reda’s sudden, sycophantic praise for Abiy Ahmed—a man he once portrayed as a genocidal adversary—shows a tongue that has tasted and spat out every ideology it has ever professed. It has no lasting flavour of principle, only the transient taste of power.
The adage rings true. We see the tip of the tongue that has no lasting taste. And so, we turn away from it. We place our trust not in the shifting allegiances of politicians in comfortable offices, but in the unwavering spirit of our people and the righteous strength of our Fano freedom fighters. Their betrayal is their shame; our constancy is our strength.
The adage warns us. The tree is rotting from within. The Fano freedom fighters are the storm that is shaking it, forcing the rotten fruit to fall so that new, healthy growth may one day take its place. Our struggle is the last, best hope for a democratic Ethiopia because it is the only struggle left that is willing to pay the price for it. We fight for Amhara, yes, but in doing so, we carry the hopes of a nation stifled by tyranny, proving that while opposition in Addis may be silent, the sound of freedom firing back in Amhara echoes for everyone.
The adage proves correct. The farmer cannot cut it all at once. In his desperation to maintain control over the entire field, he has failed to tend to any of it properly. The Amhara crop has grown strong and resilient, and its roots run too deep to be easily pulled. The regime’s true fear is not just our strength, but the hope it gives others. They are not afraid of a rebellion; they are afraid of a revolution. And that is a fear that no amount of military hardware can ever truly extinguish.
But the adage holds: the sun cannot be covered. The light of our cause is now too bright. The withdrawal is the proof. The spirit of the Amhara people, channelled through the courage of the Fano freedom fighters, has proven to be an army that no conventional force can defeat. The tide has turned. The long, dark night of occupation is beginning to break, and the dawn of our freedom is finally on the horizon.A Thoughtful Summary: The Turning of the Tide
The potential withdrawal of the ENDF from the highlands of Amhara is a moment of profound significance, yet it is one that must be viewed not with premature triumph, but with clear-eyed strategic understanding. This is not a benevolent gesture from Addis Ababa; it is a complex military manoeuvre forced upon a corrupt and brutal regime by a combination of its own exhaustion, strategic overreach, and catastrophic political failure. It is the culmination of a brutal two-year occupation that has bled its army white, shattered its morale, and exposed its hollow legitimacy to the world. This withdrawal is a high-risk gamble—a desperate attempt to retreat, regroup, and re-engage on terms more favourable to a regime that has irrevocably lost the consent of the governed.
For us, the people of Amhara, and for our Fano freedom fighters, this moment represents a critical juncture of both immense opportunity and necessary vigilance. We see the deep cracks appearing in the foundation of Abiy Ahmed’s empire. The retreat of his forces is a testament to our resilience, our sacrifice, and our unbreakable will. However, we must be prepared to navigate this new phase with immense wisdom. We must ensure that any vacuum of power left by their departure is filled not with chaos, but with the legitimate, organic structures of our cause—founded on justice, self-determination, and the will of our people. This is not the end of our struggle, but a decisive shift in the wind. Our vigilance must now transform from purely military defence to the complex task of securing our hard-won liberty.
An Amhara adage guides us currently: “የሚያልፍ ዛፍ ግንዱን አይደርቅም” (A passing storm does not dry the trunk of the tree). The ENDF occupation was a violent storm that battered our branches and stripped our leaves. But our trunk—our deep-rooted spirit and connection to this land—remains intact and strong. Their withdrawal is the storm passing. Now, we must tend to our tree, heal the wounds, and ensure it grows stronger than ever before.
The world may watch from a distance, analysing maps and political statements, but we are the ones who must act. The path ahead remains fraught with danger—of regime deception, of proxy conflicts, and of international meddling. Yet, the fundamental message of this moment is clear, and it echoes through our history: the will of a people, when armed with justice and an unwavering love for their land, forges an army that no temporal force, no matter how well-equipped, can ultimately defeat.
The withdrawal is not their choice; it is their concession to our strength. It is the silent, undeniable admission that the spirit of Amhara cannot be occupied. The dawn we have fought for, bled for, and believed in through the longest night may finally be breaking over the horizon. Our duty is to ensure that this dawn brings not just the absence of war, but the enduring light of freedom.
ViVa Fano Freedom Fighters!
Viva Ethiopia!
Ethiopia Autonomous Media
Ethiopia Autonomous Media
