Abstract
In this article, I reflect on the sociopolitical impact and memory construction of the Ethiopian revolution of 1974. Decades have passed and a new political leadership has reshaped Ethiopian society after the demise of the Ethiopian revolutionary regime in May 1991, but the effects are still felt. The violent political drama of the 1970s and 1980s redefined the Ethiopian political tradition and the practices of (political) violence in the light of new revolutionary ideologies, mainly imported from abroad. The post-1991 regime has shown a particular way of handling the aftermath of the 1974 events, but evinces a number of continuities with the ideologies and practices of that era – if only because all participants and current rulers were part of the same revolutionary (student) generation. The regime presently in power is thus partly a successor regime to the “socialist” regime, having started with largely a similar socioeconomic and Marxist-ideological program. At least in one central aspect, the two regimes differ: in their practical response to the “nationalities question.” The handling of this issue after 1991 by the current regime of the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front – Tigray Peoples Liberation Front (EPRDF-TPLF) has confirmed that today we in fact may see “Plan B” of the 1974 revolution being consolidated. We analyze the two strains of the Ethiopian revolution and comment on the how and why of their different paths since 1974.
Man’s capacity for justice makes democracy possible, but man’s inclination to injustice makes democracy necessary.
Introduction and Hypothesis
The Ethiopian revolution that “erupted” in February 1974 was more than a generation ago and discussion of it has largely disappeared from the public view and the media, also in Ethiopia. The debate continues, however, in the scholarly literature and via reflections and comments of participants and eyewitnesses, writing memoirs and reminiscences, often on surprisingly minute points of ideological and sectarian detail. Internet forums provide ample room for postmortem recriminations and criticisms of former opponents of the erstwhile student movement sections. So is the revolutionary legacy gone and overcome? In Ethiopia and among the wider public, discussion of its impact and meaning is now muted by the new discourse on economic growth and development. The traumatic period of the 1970s and 1980s is seen as an aberrant phase of political violence and misrule that has been “closed.” Behind the surface, however, there is still the deep memory of personal tragedies and lives lost in appalling violence, present in almost every family, notably in Addis Ababa, 1 and a subtext of fear or insecurity in political life. The political “legacy” of the revolutionary movement is not favorable.
It is often said that the “wrong turn of the revolution” occurred as a result of the military-led Derg 2 regime’s hijacking of popular protests in September 1974 and of the imposition of top-down policies by the emerging leadership in the name of “revolution,” but bent foremost on maintaining its newly won power. The Derg campaigns of mass mobilization, such as, the 1976 zämäch’a (a mass student “development” campaign in the countryside), as well as the tensions or urban warfare between the regime and the revolutionary groups, such as, the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Party (EPRP) 3 and later in 1977 the All-Ethiopia Socialist Movement (MEISON), 4 Ethiopian Marxist–Leninist Revolutionary Organization (MALERID), and Woz League, further contributed to this. The battles between the Derg forces and the so-called “genuine” revolutionaries of these movements came to naught in the streets of the cities and left tens of thousands of mostly young people dead, and as many injured and maimed, while others fled and were forced into exile. 5 The violence and suffering of a whole generation was too appalling to be even recounted in its full extent (cf. Babile, 1997; Gebru Tareke, 2008).
I am not sure that many new things can be said on the Ethiopian revolution after Messay Kebede’s exhaustive and remarkable work (2011), but the event will draw continued study, if only because more voices from the past will speak out and because its impact will always show up. In such studies, the entire ideological canvas of the revolutionary movement in Ethiopia has to be considered, preferably in a more comparative perspective, as the revolutionary momentum and the massive violence in its wake have pervasively reshaped politics, society, interpersonal relationships, and the cultural fabric of Ethiopian society – in often unacknowledged ways.
The Ethiopian revolution was indeed a revolution, and not a revolt or an insurgency: a fundamental social upheaval changing the political order and the basic structures of society, accompanied by new ideologies that reversed the assumptions of established authority, and yielded new leadership elites, with other legitimization strategies. In its ideas and practices, this revolution was evidently an event of enormous historical importance; also, I contend, because it cut off the road to a gradual development toward a democratic republican state order – in contrast to developments in several other African countries. It entrenched forms of authoritarian politics based on a new metaphysics of governance and of violence. The use of violence as political means reached new heights since 1974 and these remained as modes of operation, going against the strain of mediation and reconciliation that was also present in traditional Ethiopian politics under the empire (cf. Schaefer, 2006; Teshale Tibebu, 2008, p. 357).
The aftermath of the revolution in Ethiopia is still very much with us, and it is as yet too early for an autopsy. As a political movement toward social justice, a democratic ethos, and human improvement, it was not overall successful, as most evident in its ending in the civil war that tore the country apart and in the durability of problems that already existed before 1974. Given the state of Ethiopian politics, social structure, and economic inequality in the late imperial era, chances of its success were indeed slim. A reversal of socioeconomic and political structures was certainly achieved, but not in accordance with the “ideals” or aspirations first set. The imperial order was relegated to the realm of history, first and foremost due to the nationalization of all land in 1975 and the forceful removal of the land-owning class. The popular euphoria about this was notable, especially in the Ethiopian south and west, but it was also short-lived. Soon, the uncompromising attitudes of all actors involved – for whatever combination of reasons – prevented the revolution developing into a movement leading to freedom, democratic culture, or meeting the aspirations of common Ethiopians. As the late Yonas Admassu said (2008, p. 271), it “…turned into an unspeakable nightmare.”
A task for sociohistorical and anthropological research today remains to probe more in-depth the social, psychological, and cultural impact of the revolutionary phase on Ethiopia’s societal and political routines. This article is a call for that. Although the analysis here is strongly in terms of evolving political ideas and ideologies, a full explanation of the revolutionary ferment and political developments in Ethiopia after 1974 should ultimately be tied to the processes of change in the socio-economic and political conditions of the country. The post-1974 period, after the fall of the imperial order, was a time of radical change and socio-political experimentation, where emerging social groups were searching for new meanings and new frameworks of organization in a process that showed a great deal of contingency.
Origins – Ideological Elements
An explanation of revolution must combine structural factors and personal agency in a unified model. In Ethiopia, socioeconomic and political conditions in the late 1960s to early 1970s were clearly present to produce a “revolutionary situation.” But it would not have been converted into an actual revolution without the strong ideological predispositions of situated agents, social groups, and individuals acting upon – and being able to act upon – the critical situation.
As is well known, the origins of the revolutionary ferment were in the Ethiopian student movement, domestically generated but strongly influenced by, if not a full part of, global revolutionary currents seen among youths in the rest of the world, notably in the 1960s. Marxism was the attractive ideological language because of its abstract, “covering law” approach to history, class relations, and social inequality (cf. Teshale Tibebu, 2008). In this context, I need not dwell on this for long because it has been well described in numerous studies (e.g., Balsvik, 1985, 2007; Paulos Milkias, 2006; Kiflu Tadesse, 1993, 1998; Fentahun Tiruneh, 1990). Obviously, that era was the heyday of Marxist-Socialist critique and revolt. There were deep concerns among the students and emerging educated classes about social injustice, class contradictions, inequality, and poverty in Ethiopia. Since the 1960 coup attempt, which also turned violent, such ideals had been spreading under the surface. In 1964, students at Haile Sellassie University (Addis Ababa) set up the “Crocodile Society,” a semi-legal group adopting Marxist–Leninist ideological stances. The same year,
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students first came out on the streets with the slogan “Land to the tiller,” thus declaring their commitment to revolutionary social change. In subsequent years, the protest movement turned more radical Marxist, clearly guided by a domestic agenda but also inspired by student protests elsewhere. Illustrative are Clapham’s remarks in his 2006 paper on the politics of emulation in Ethiopian development: the emulation of foreign models, he suggests, reached its
…most intense form in the search for revolutionary alternatives to what was clearly a failing imperial order: (…) the wholesale conversion of a younger generation of Ethiopian intellectuals – from the mid-1960s onwards – to Marxism-Leninism as a development strategy (…). The students who provided the impetus for the revolution espoused different forms of communism, and the vicious and bloody conflicts between them continue to be played out in Ethiopian politics even today. (Clapham, 2006, pp. 144–145).
Indeed Marxist views on politics and development were the thing to believe in during those days; it was an almost unavoidable phenomenon. It was not a question of balanced reasoning but more of generational effervescence for change and political drama, fueled by sincerely idealistic but misguided ideals. Factional and doctrinaire strife were soon part of it and later turned extremely violent, as compromise thinking was absent and the feeling among the contenders of possessing the one and only truth was paramount. The ideology used was characterized by the fact that, to use Acheson-Brown’s words, “exciting and empowering goals” were set “before a realistic assessment of means” occurred (1997, p. 94).
Ethiopian student federations in Europe (Ethiopian Student Union in Ethiopia [ESUE]) and North America (Ethiopian Student Union in North America [ESUNA]) were in intense interaction with the student movement in Ethiopia (University Students Union of Addis Ababa [USUAA]) in the last years of the imperial state under Emperor Haile Sellassie I. This regime followed a policy of repression to protests and demands of the emerging young opposition, but the student movement kept up momentum despite the arrests and loss of leaders, and they set the agenda for regime change and social revolution. Due to the Emperor’s policy since the 1960 coup attempt to not prepare for his succession, there were no organized societal or political forces to resist the creeping revolutionary process. The historical record of 1974–1975 has shown that when army units and urban workers and others with grievances 7 joined in the protests and demands, the fate of the empire was sealed. Ethiopian workers led by the Confederation of Ethiopian Labor Unions (CELU) played an important role with a huge general strike of c. 100,000 participants on March 7–10, 1974, after agitation by students (Paulos Milkias, 2006, p. 209). In April, mass strikes and demonstrations of workers and teachers unions followed, and on April 20, there was the mass demonstration of Muslims asking for equal religious rights. Eventually, the strikes and actions – all supported and partly organized by student radicals – brought down the imperial government but also were met with massive force by the new Armed Forces “Coordinating Committee” (precursor of the Derg). The repression worked; by late May, the revolutionary push of workers, teachers, civil servants, and religious functionaries was ended with a crack-down (Paulos Milkias, 2006, p. 212) on the CELU and demonstrating workers by fourth division army troops (ibid.). In September, the CELU top leadership was arrested. Hereafter, the dynamics shifted to the military and the leftist revolutionary parties. Though the CELU remained active (although mostly underground) in agitating for an independent workers’ union, 8 its “revolutionary” role diminished. 9
In the months of confusion and political vacuum until August 1974, the army, the only organized force in the country, could establish itself in power. Hopes that it would use its leverage for the good were however soon dashed. The ideologically schooled Socialist-Marxist student groups had their impact on army thinking, but the military tried to co-opt or sideline them. The path toward positive change and justice was definitively abandoned in November 1974 with the killing of the first leader of the Derg, General Aman M. Andom, by radical military within the Derg, and by the almost simultaneous mass killing of dozens of ancien régime functionaries and leaders, held imprisoned without trial.
This wanton massacre of people – who had voluntarily turned themselves in – recalled the methods of the Italian massacre in Addis Ababa after the attempt on the life of Fascist viceroy R. Graziani in 1937, and slashed away the legitimacy of the Derg as the revolutionary vanguard. Most people from then on saw what was to follow. The idea of “yalä mïnïm dämm (…) Itiopp’ia tïqdäm” 10 – the initial slogan (song) of the Derg – was down and out, a fiction. The ensuing years of repression, arbitrary rule, brutal killing, abuse with impunity, and economic misrule left Ethiopia impoverished and bereaved, and led to major social and cultural crises. The story has been told many times in detail and I refrain from repeating it. (For some studies of the course of the revolution until 1991, see Andargatchew, 1993; Paulos Milkias, 2006; Gebru Tareke, 2009a; Teferra, 1997).
As noted, forty years after the events of the revolution year, debate about the violence and the “legacy” has somewhat receded from the public domain, and the revolutionary ideologies of class struggle and “anti-feudalist,” “anti-capitalist,” or “anti-imperialist” policies of the self-appointed Ethio-communist Derg regime seem dead and buried. The “Red Terror” trials (cf. Tronvoll, Schaefer, & Alemu, 2009), completed with the sentence against former Derg leader Mengistu Haile-Mariam in 2007, were deemed by the post-1991 Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) government to have “ended” the affair, and the (selectively construed) memory of it was hallowed in a monument and in a new legitimacy derived from it being overcome. Also the EPRP, the MEISON, and other Marxist-oriented groups based on national class struggle analysis and “Socialist state” theory, are gone (although the groups still have a token existence in exile, and networks of comrades are maintained).
The dismal record of the Derg as the so-called custodian of the revolution eliminated any convincing arguments for the class struggle-based version of Socialist-Marxist discourse. What remains of the Derg and the revolutionary fronts is a tragic record of tyrannical–authoritarian politics, misplaced warfare (Abbink, 2009; Gebru Tareke, 2009a), destruction of cultural traditions (e.g., prohibiting the mourning of those who were killed), and heaps of dead people and traumatized survivors (cf. Abdulreshid & Mohammed, 1997a, 1997b, 1997c).
But in many respects, there is of course continuity. In the post-1991 period, one may argue, we have seen in large part the unfolding of the Ethiopian revolution, Plan B. As Bahru (1994, p. 152) already noted: “Marxism-Leninism supposedly died with the Mangestu regime,” but this was incorrect: it just continued in a different form. This could not be otherwise when seeing what the background was, and, as Bahru continued: “…the Marxist credentials of the two main units of the EPRDF, the TPLF and the EPDM 11 (….) antedate those of the Darg and are probably more authentic” (Bahru, 1994, p. 153). These two organizations of course belonged to the second branch of the revolutionary movement of the 1970s.
The Ethiopian revolution was ideologically prepared and fed by the student and insurgent movements of the 1960s and 1970s, inspired by general and utopian ideals of progress, development, equality, justice, etc. (cf. Bahru, 2014), but formulated vaguely and in authoritarian terms. 12 Marxist ideology played the major role, but in a (too) Eurocentric form. The movements were also strongly influenced (Teshale, 2008, p. 346) by the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF), and later the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF), and their programs of national revolution through independence. (The Eritrean movements were not based on ethnicity but on a territorial identity resulting from ex-colonial boundaries.)
Indeed, the revolution from the start basically had two strains: first, the one just mentioned, the class analysis-based “anti-feudalist,” “anti-bourgeoisie” approach to perceived political and social inequality. Second, the “anti-imperialist,” “anti-capitalist,” and ethno-regionally based approach, pointing to “national oppression” in Ethiopia, seen by the revolutionary movements as led by predominantly one (Amhara) elite oppressing the rest, notably in the countryside: the “nationalities question.” 13 It was of course put on the agenda of the Ethiopian student movement by Walleligne Mekonnen (1969) in his famous but unhistorical and superficial paper, which was not an analysis but ideological position taking. Later, it was taken up in another overstated though influential piece (1971) by “Tilahun Takele” (pseudonym of two members of the proto-EPRP “Algeria group”), discussed in the various branches of the student movement.
Taking note of these two lines in the revolution is nothing new (cf. Teshale, 2008, p. 347), and we now know that the second line was set to gain the upper hand, perhaps due to the state of Ethiopia’s socioeconomic system: an imperial, land-based, nonindustrial society of a multiethnic nature, and based on patron–client relations and nondemocratic elite politics. This system did not allow for the overall mobilization of class-based movements, nor of civic–political interest groups that could negotiate, as a societal counterforce, with the political power holders. Territorially based ethnicity or ethno-nationalism commanded people’s prime loyalty – ultimately even in the cities – and carried the day, as evident in the ethnic-based “liberation movements,” such as, Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), Sidama Liberation Movement (SLM), and Western Somali Liberation Front (WSLF). Together with the EPLF in Eritrea, the EPRDF (led by the TPLF) brought down the Derg’s “People’s Democratic Republic of Ethiopia.” The 1991 battlefield victory of ethno-regionally based movements was facilitated by the fact that the Derg had effectively killed off Socialist or democratic ideals, alienated the emerging educated elites and business people, and had destroyed or thwarted the aspirations for social justice among the wider population (the “broad masses”). Still, as Clapham (1987, pp. 106, 109, 124) noted, it cannot be denied that the Derg tried to execute a consistent Marxist program (cf. also Acheson-Brown, 1997, p. 93).
Asserting that Plan B of the revolution in the 1980s was on course to win – and was implemented to a large extent after 1991 – also implies noting that deep flaws in Socialist-Marxist revolutionary thinking within the insurgent movements of the 1970s may have been continued as well.
The “intellectual origins” – if that word is needed – of the Marxist-revolutionary thinking on nationality/ethnicity could of course be traced back to J. Stalin’s Marxism and the National Question (1913, reissued 1944) and also to earlier work by fellow Marxist Rosa Luxemburg (1908–1909), and some others. It appealed to the young student generations in multiethnic Ethiopia where ethnic disparities were quite visible, but it was far from certain that there should be a direct line from ethnic inequality to a revolutionary politics based on ethnicity. Discord on this key ideological element was ever present. Nevertheless, the idea of self-determination of “nationalities” was the core item on the EPRDF’s agenda, defining the exploitation of the rural masses as mediated through the “ethnocratic” Ethiopian state, in either its imperial or its military-Marxist form. The Front’s reference to the “ethno-regional home area” was a bridging element that related rural culture and revolutionary politics, without however solving all problems. Still, after 1991 this agenda led to new forms of “empowerment” of ethnic groups and peoples, thereby utterly changing the face of the country.
Some Causes of Revolutionary Turmoil – and the Sequel
Historical understanding of the antecedents and the unfolding of a revolution is important, but we can be brief here on the “causes” of the Ethiopian revolution, as we are concerned here with their effects. There is also an extensive – if not voluminous – literature on this revolution that is often making similar points.
As to causes, deep structural problems in the political and economic (land holding) order of the empire, as well as the rapidly declining status of the conservative and aging emperor, were clear to see in the decade up to 1974. Contributing immediate factors were the indignation about the famine of 1973 14 and the glaring rural poverty it revealed, sudden price rises for the urban masses, and the deteriorating living conditions of soldiers.
Legitimate grievances that had long been simmering among the population (urban workers, peasants) and the younger educated generation came out in the open, and were channeled into mimetic social revolt. 15 If the public unrest would have been met swiftly and adequately by the government via plans for structural reform, an evolutionary path toward social and political reform might have been taken, although it might have been too late for system change. Popular protest was pervasive and contagious. But it did not lead to a strong civic political front – this was impossible due to a lack of civic institutional frameworks or representative bodies to negotiate, and to the internal divisions of the opposition groups and student fronts. Among these revolutionary groups, insults, such as, “leftist infantilist,” “petty bourgeois pseudo-radical,” “right-roader,” “traitor,” or “national nihilist” were soon thrown back and forth, and a dialogical political process was absent. Violent discourse in pamphlets and in demonstrations continued in 1974–1975 and turned into actual mass violence in 1976–1977 among and between student/political movements and the Derg forces.
After September 1974, and after months of demonstrations, inconclusive negotiations, and actions by the Socialist student fronts, the EPRP was gaining the ideological upper hand (e.g., in the written media, as with their periodical Democrasia) and getting more and more youth support. But then, the Derg took over. This was probably for fear of losing power, and also to thwart any further deliberations on the new draft Constitution that was offered in early August 1974 16 by some legal experts. From then on, violent and repressive authoritarianism set out the future course. This was stimulated by the extremely negative response that the student movements gave to this constitutional draft (cf. Paulos Milkias, 2006, pp. 227–228), only because it proposed retaining a (constitutional) monarchy. 17
Due to the mounting denunciations in the press, the student and revolutionary party periodicals and to the declining charisma of the emperor as a result, the monarchy was gradually stripped of its support structures and finally abolished by proclamation of the Derg on September 12, 1974. 18 This was preceded by a highly charged documentary on Ethiopian Television (ETV) on the Wollo famine in the September 11 evening program. After the emperor was removed, the ideological battles continued as vehemently as ever, now with new targets; but the Derg moved to keep dominance and use the student groups for their own purposes and later eliminate them.
Attempts at collaboration of the Derg with the Socialist student movements were halfhearted and ultimately to no avail (as the example of MEISON allying with the Derg showed). The Derg (renamed “Provisional Military Administrative Council” or PMAC in September 1975) tried to deflect the emerging rivalry and tensions with the Marxist parties and the ever-demanding students. One move was the organization of a “National Development Campaign” or Idgät bäHibrät (zämäch’a) in the first half of 1975 (cf. Andargatchew, 1993, pp. 102–103) “to spread the revolution.” It is still a somewhat of a mystery why c. 65,000 leftist students, activists, and teachers let themselves be sent out of Addis Ababa and other cities to do campaign work in remote rural areas, ordered and coordinated by the Derg. 19
But in 1976, violent campaigns were started, first against the EPRP. The Derg’s Näbälbal special forces were brought to Addis Ababa in August that year and came into action even before the EPRP had fired its first shot. The so-called “White Terror” and “Red Terror” that followed next year are well described and will not be discussed here (cf. also Andargatchew, 1993, pp. 208–214; Babile, 1997; Bahru, 2009; Gebru Tareke, 2008). The complicated chain of events and the cycles of imitative violence make it also difficult to engage in a blame-game analysis of who “started” it and who was “justified in using violence,” etc. The regression into ugly violence was caused by the regime in place as well as by the insurgent movements engaged in Ethiopia in the 1970s and 1980s, turning on each other. While no doubt the Derg was paramount in its exercise of massive violence and cruelty, the point is that by their choice for collective violent action – even if it was in some way involuntary and forced by circumstances – the student movements and the Derg together sealed the fate of further progress on a meaningful social-revolutionary path, and engendered a “culture of violence” that reshaped the Ethiopian political system and society.
The radicalization of the Derg is often ascribed to the ideological impact of the Marxist student movements, while the specific violent radicalism of both has been explained by Messay Kebede (2009) as a result of the “cultural dislocation” of an entire generation from the roots of Ethiopian civilization and education in favor of a kind of “alienated” Western-based education. No doubt, there is some truth here. But another argument to explain this could be that the insurgents continued in dialectical form the strongly hierarchical and authoritarian political (and familial) culture of Ethiopia, where “loyal opposition” and critical political debate did not exist and where political struggles of any importance were usually resolved through force (cf. Bahru, 1994, p. 156). They became caught up in a process, or a situational logic, of violence that they did not fully control and had no alternatives for. In addition, the seamless conversion of violent discourse into violent practice may be indicative of the fact that often in Ethiopian society, words (and threats) are taken very seriously if not literally, and thus are reality.
The violent defeat of the leftist parties by the Derg toward the end of the 1970s (the 1977–1978 anti-EPRP “Red Terror,” cf. Gebru Tareke, 2008 for details), the elimination of MEISON in late 1977 after its 2-year close alliance with the Derg, the disbanding of the Woz Ader League, Echa’at, and MALERID, and the removal of the EPRP remnants from their retreat in Tigray after the battle of Assimba with the TPLF in late February 1978, created a new phase in the revolution.
For this article, the important point here is that this meant that revolutionary resistance to the Derg from then on took the rural guerrilla-based, ethno-nationalist path (TPLF, OLF, etc.), although with its Marxist credentials intact (cf. Aregawi, 2009; Clapham, 1992, pp. 116). The later formation of the Marxist–Leninist League of Tigray within TPLF (in July 1985) was a confirmation of this. As the strength of the insurgent fronts grew, the second strain of the Ethiopian revolution emerged victorious and assumed power in May 1991: in Eritrea in nationalist-separatist form, in Ethiopia in ethno-regionalist form, leading to a redefinition of Ethiopian nationhood.
Issues in Plan A and Plan B: After 40 Years
All crucial issues that were discussed in the student movement periodicals and parties in the 1960s and 1970s came back after 1974 in the policies of the Derg and after 1991 in policies of the new EPRDF regime, although with different emphasis. The Derg, carrying out Plan A, tackled the land issue first, and went on to establish a state-centralist economy that stifled the private sector and economic growth (except for a couple of years). It followed the Soviet Communist governance model, deriving also its party formation (Workers’ Party of Ethiopia, September 1984) from it. The entire process was steeped in repression of opponents and civilian parties. In the post-1991 period, obviously the nationalities question (and the Eritrean question) was foremost, as it was the agenda and means of mobilization that had brought victory. This was understandable. But also here the Marxist governance model was followed: “democratic centralism” under the vanguard party, and no bottom-up democratic federalism.
The Land Issue
This was and is a crucial element of the revolution from all sides. Ownership and access to land, although cultivated by independent peasant smallholders and family- or clan-groups – was deemed to be an essential prerequisite for the state order and regime maintenance (cf. Markakis, 2011, p. 356). The revolutionary groups all pleaded for land to go to those who cultivated it and for dispossessing the “feudalist” land-holding class. The Ethiopian revolution in the form of the Derg of course nationalized all land and abolished the private land-owning class with the Rural Land Proclamation Act of March 1975, a faithful follow-up to student agitation on this point. It gained support among part of the (southern) population, and also from MEISON, which hereupon had entered a tactical alliance with the Derg. The land question saw a checkered history under the Derg, because its policies had little positive effect on agrarian wealth creation and development. Farmers often complained that “everyone was now made equally poor.” This feeling still exists among today’s smallholders. The post-1991 government continued the policy of state ownership of all land. It is too early to see what the new government policy (since 2008) of handing out huge tracts of land under lease to foreign and rich domestic investors (to be cultivated with export mono-crops on a commercial scale) will yield. Under Emperor Haile Sellassie and the Derg there were also such big concessions (of course less in number), but they all failed and caused trouble to local populations (cf. Shehim, 1985). There is still no smallholder empowerment, rural inequality and poverty are worrying, and no quantum leap in agrarian productivity or growth was realized. So the revolutionary answer to solving the land question is still with us. But it was not a good answer. Next to blanket state possession of everything, other forms of property holding, from private to communal, were not considered. But various new forms of ownership might have very different outcomes as to socioeconomic dynamics. Because the land question was only resolved very partially, it keeps haunting Ethiopian rural society. The current regime went even further than any previous one by also nationalizing all urban land, with even private plots falling into state-controlled lease upon house sale, 20 which is unprecedented in Africa.
Class Rule and Governance
Mandate: Like the Derg and the student fronts, also the EPRDF rhetoric of power claimed to have taken over the government on behalf of the oppressed, toiling masses of peasants, and workers (the “broad masses”). While the idiom in today’s Ethiopia has shifted, the self-perception of the current government and party in power is strongly shaped by it. Allied to this is a perception of the monopoly of power at the center (Markakis, 2011, p. 355, calls it a “structural fault” in the design of the state project). This reveals that ideologically schooled political elites (cf. Messay Kebede, 2011, p. xiv) are still dominant in charting Ethiopia’s development.
Democratic centralism: As under the previous regime, this form of decision making is still in place under the current ruling party. It obviously comes from the Marxist–Leninist tradition. Part and parcel of this are the “organizational operations” (dirigitawi sera), known under the Derg and used when proclaiming state or party projects top-down, for elections and for consulting the population via ‘mass organizations’, and they are perfected under the current government, sometimes for the good, sometimes for the bad. Part of this is the continuation of political evaluations (gimgäma) and expulsion procedures in all institutions and party organs, a practice that may go beyond constitutional principles.
Political democracy and the public sphere: In revolutionary thinking, since c. 1970s there was no place for a regular parliamentary-democratic system and free and really independent media, but more for a Socialist peoples’ republic under a vanguard party. The Derg as well as the various leftist parties saw themselves as such, and so did the TPLF and the OLF. This strand is continued in TPLF’s “revolutionary democracy,” which needs a dominant party and is of course not “liberal democracy” – this is seen as inappropriate for a developing, multiethnic country with limited literacy, mass rural poverty, low popular education levels, and a small urban middle class. 21
Hegemonic regime and the use of selective repressive violence: visible in the suppression of demonstrations, civic organizations, opposition activists, independent journalists, and in the numerous “ethnic” conflicts. The scale of violence after 1991 is not to be compared with the mimetic cycles of massive violent destruction under the Derg, and as such there is no continuity, and the “language of violence” is different – for example, no “theatrical” display of those killed. But regularly, power holders play upon the legacy of fear among citizens, and use targeted violence as political means, and due prosecution of perpetrators is often lacking. This is what numerous human rights’ organizations reported in the past two decades.
The administrative structures installed by the Derg were maintained: Urban qäbäles and peasant associations, with a minor reform in the higher units – no longer käftegnas and awrajas but wärädas and zones, including “special” ones. They function as local implementation structures for top-down government policies aided by new means of control and dissemination such as the Internet (via “WoredaNet”) and other communication modes.
The discursive mutation of “revolutionary democracy” into “developmental democracy” occurring since late 2013 has not led to system changes yet; it may be a search for a new basis of state/party legitimacy. While this “technocratic” move seemingly de-emphasizes the “revolutionary” aspect of governance, the latter form nevertheless stays in place as the political basis for party and state policy.
Rights of Nationalities or Ethnic Groups
This was, and is, a centerpiece of revolutionary thinking, as evident from the persistent leftist student debates in the late 1960s and 1970s, briefly referred to above. Even the Derg had paid attention to it, in accordance with Marxist–Leninist theory. It redefined ethnic diversity in Ethiopia in terms of the Marxist–Stalinist definition of “nationality” and used three “forms”: “people” (hizb),” “nation” (behér), and “nationality” (behéreseb), partly a fictitious evolutionary ranking that did not really correspond to Ethiopian realities, Behér traditionally meant territory, region, or land with its population, rather than ethno-linguistic group. The concept was all taken over from Marxist thinking then prevalent in the Ethiopian student movements. The Derg’s “Institute for the Study of Ethiopian Nationalities” (ISEN) according to Marxist nationality lore had identified and described the ethno-linguistic groups/peoples/cultures of Ethiopia, recognized them, and started literacy campaigns in some 15 languages. But while the post-1991 EPRDF government abolished the ISEN, it took over its definition and categorization of groups, and used them in the formation of killils, special (ethnic) wärädas and zones. Some of these later also further split and multiplied. The Stalinist definitional straightjacket is still with us, as evident in the current Ethiopian Constitution, Article 39, where the three terms of behér, behéreseb, and hizb are defined on the same five criteria (see Article 39.5).
The crucial and much-discussed Article 39 in the Constitution (on the rights of “nations, nationalities and peoples, up to and including secession”) reflects unadulterated Marxist thinking, in line with the second stream in erstwhile student revolutionary ideology. It aimed to specifically respond to Ethiopian conditions of ethno-regional and ethno-linguistic disparities, and the mobilization of ethno-regional insurgent movements in the rural areas was partly successful because of that. But this style of mobilization essentialized ethnicity and drew new lines between communities in the process. 22
The ethnic-based approach to politics and nationhood has thus meant that “democracy” was defined via membership of or appeal to one’s own ethnicity/nationality, and not in an ethnicity-neutral political discourse. This was the revolutionary thing in EPDRF-style “revolutionary democracy”; it has led to Ethiopians being primarily ethnic subjects, not citizens.
The ethnicity factor in Ethiopian politics therefore is and will be a key revolutionary legacy of the EPRDF to Ethiopia, and while it has worked up to a certain extent in enhancing self-respect and visibility of groups, the full implications are not yet clear. Some have noted that the policy may have been “too successful,” as it threatens the state. The essentialization of identities that has resulted is difficult to remove and has a self-fulfilling prophecy effect, making national identity secondary. In this respect, Plan B of the revolution may have run out of national glue, so to speak. This will be an everlasting challenge, despite the annual celebrations of the “National Flag Day” (since 2007) and the “Nations, Nationalities and Peoples Day” (since 2005). 23 The ethnic numbers game, especially in mixed constituencies and zones, is very complicated and tense. Furthermore, there is no necessary connection between the ethnicization of the political arena and democratic structures (cf. L. Aalen & A. Kefale, 2013; Abbink, 2013).
Socioeconomic Questions and Social (In)equality
Revolutionary-socialist policies in Marxist vein of course aim for social equality and disempowerment of the elite classes of land, capital, and property owners, and for respecting the rights of workers and peasants, including their self-organization. Here, the policies of the Derg were partly continued, as nothing much changed in property relations: all land remained state property, much of the productive assets and key industries were state or party owned and remained so or were sold to party-linked groups. The state as a major investor also figures very prominently under EPRDF, which is now a self-declared “developmental-democratic” party, and Ethiopia is declared a “developmental state.” But a new class elite of wealth owners and officials has emerged, with in its tow a new upper middle class of bureaucratic employees, parastatal officials, party-linked investors, etc. A semi-independent investor class has emerged. As to the kind of economic growth pursued, it seems that here the classic Walt Rostow model (1960) of the stages of economic growth and takeoff is being followed – a quintessentially liberal–capitalist model. Local realities and sensitivities are often cast aside, and frictions, for example, with pastoralist groups and minorities, are ignored or suppressed. Social inequality has also increased strongly in the past decade, and is much more pronounced than under the Derg. A new class structure has emerged, with a very wealthy upper layer, strongly linked to party and state. The self-organization of Ethiopian workers and peasants has remained very weak, also compared to other African countries, with, for instance, the Confederation of Ethiopian Trade Unions (CETU) having no autonomous status and being largely invisible.
Cultural and Religious Freedoms
After the revolution in 1974, there was initial success in the domain of religious rights and freedoms, with the constitutionally declared equality of religions (although not for the traditional–tribal religions) and the institution of a “secular state” regime. This was a legacy of revolutionary thought as implemented by the Derg, which disempowered the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and gave new rights to the Muslims. This was continued under EPRDF (in the 1995 constitution), although no militant antireligious policy was followed like the Derg had done.
In the early years of EPRDF rule, the policy toward religions was not given much attention; rights were declared and religions were tolerated and more or less left to sort it out, perhaps out of divide-and-rule motives. But according of rights was perhaps also “too successful”: vehement competition and polemics emerged between the various denominations within Islam and Christianity, enhanced by proselytization and inventive use of new media and of public space. Religious freedoms were regularly abused by religious groups; polemical exchanges were exaggerated to great heights and yielded extremist responses. Local religion-based conflicts were often not properly managed by the state. Additional law giving was done in the past few years to dampen religious competition, mobilization, and “extremism” (whereby the threats emanating from Somalia were often cited). The standoff between the Ethiopian Muslim community and the government in the past 3 years (2012–2014) led to repression and is evidence of renewed policy engagement with the issue of religious rights and the statute of the secular order.
Still, the irony of history is not lost on us here: In the first phase of the revolution, religion, as “opium of the masses,” was strongly devalued and suppressed by the political actors and movements, notably the Derg. Now, after 1991, it is tolerated as an escape valve for spiritual fulfillment (which is real), and as nonpolitical empowerment discourse, although it is to be government controlled. 24 The “return of the religious” has indeed become a challenge to the state order.
Conclusion
Overseeing the 40-year period since the revolution, one could argue that its legacies are still very much present in Ethiopia, and to a significant extent continued in policy. It might also be noted that the revolution’s “achievements” were probably not worth the human costs in lives lost, economic damage, continued food insecurity, and deep humiliation undergone by the popular masses. As it unfolded, the revolution had no unitary program or trajectory, and was carried out by situated actors – military, political groups, individuals – that compromised, “betrayed” it, or changed course in order to keep power. In the process, they did serious damage to the country’s unity.
The remarkable dogmatism and sectarianism, and the violent implementation of revolutionary ideals – initially without the starry-eyed revolutionaries seeing the seeds of tyranny already present in their own ideologies – have wrought havoc and created a subtext of fear and insecurity in the entire society (cf. Abbink, 1995). It put the political and social agenda back for decades. Rebellion and revolt against the imperial order were understandable and to a large extent justified – and to be expected after the failed 1960 coup, which was a watershed. But in true “dialectical” fashion, the revolutionary ideals were formulated in the mirror image of the authoritarian–repressive imperial order, with the revolutionaries of all sides even exceeding it with their often unspoken belief in the “purifying force” of “revolutionary violence,” that is, acts of brutal repression, persecution of “enemies,” terror’ and targeted killing. This is indeed the final and long-lasting legacy of the revolutionary turmoil – the fear and deep distrust that settled in social relations and politics in particular. The shades of fear, lingering trauma, and cynicism toward politics lie just under the surface.
It is true that many modern democratic countries before consolidating their political systems have gone through a traumatic phase of “formative” violence: the Netherlands in its 80 years’ war with Spain (seventeenth century), the USA with its appalling civil war (mid-nineteenth century), Spain and its 1930s civil war, and many other European countries in and after World War II. In this respect, Ethiopia may not be an exception. But its postrevolutionary democracy is long in coming, and its current form is highly contested and incomplete. It is ideologically “over-determined” (see the name of the current ruling party) and defined in a peculiar way, in the shadows of top-down Marxist governance models of “democratic centralism” still alive and well.
In the post-1991 period, the erstwhile Socialist revolutionary elements can clearly be seen in the political dispensation, the politics of governance, and the policies implemented. A one-party-dominant (“vanguard”) system is in place, 25 with a strong focus on hegemonic policy, but also on developmental issues and on the issue of nationalities as potentially equal partners in a national venture. Indeed the “mandate” of the government is often said to be that of the broad masses, both the rural poor and the disadvantaged nationalities. The economy has increasingly been organized in the mirror of the Chinese model, including the party (and state) as engine of economic activities and keeping control of all sectors of society. And needless to say, in China that party is the Communist Party.
The above discussion shows that three general elements of revolutionary Marxist doctrine as present in the student movements and in Derg policies are still recognizable in today’s Ethiopia (cf. Clapham, 1992, pp. 107–108): the doctrine of development – in the name of the masses, the doctrine of state control by a dominant vanguard party, and the doctrine of multiethnic nation building – this time via ethno-regional federalism. Obviously, these were adapted and fine-tuned, and show pragmatic adaptation in response to changing external conditions and donor-country priorities in a post-Cold War world, but in their core they are still in place.
In Ethiopia, it is unclear whether the recent change in using the term “developmental democracy” instead of “revolutionary democracy” will entail further changes toward a more “open access” democratic system (cf. North, Wallis, & Weingast, 2009) and leave more of the revolutionary legacy (or burden) behind. The current government got the economy moving, but not the system of political autocracy.
One can conclude that the ideological and political legacy of the Ethiopian revolution, derived from the student movement, has been absorbed in the “mainstream” of Ethiopian political culture. In fact, the same premises of the revolutionary-socialist ideologies keep coming back and are being recycled in all political and developmental debates in Ethiopia, as well as in much of the analysts’ literature. The amount of repetition in the descriptions of the Ethiopian political and economic trajectory as well as of its “problems and challenges” is notable, and they always hark back to the same issues of land, ethnic relations and nationalities, food (in)security, “removing backwardness,” economic productivity and growth, the developmental process, modernization, etc. Rarely are modern democratic theory, deliberative politics, or institutional rule of law issues tackled or even discussed, because they are usually declared (by ruling elites) as out of sync with “African politics,” with its underdeveloped economic base and tense ethnic diversity. While indeed ethnic or ethno-regional realities need to be addressed and carefully managed, it is difficult to see why they should hold democratic discourse and political evolution hostage for the sake of the status quo. This status quo suggests that autocracy is well entrenched and that a new developmental-bureaucratic, party-bourgeoisie has been established. The irony is that this class has emerged from the generation of revolutionary (ex-)Marxist students/activists that in its time agitated against the imperial bourgeoisie and its consorts. As some observers noted, history may have come back full circle.
In the zero-sum game arena of Ethiopian politics, it will take a big political effort, as well as culture change, to develop an ethos of compromise and deliberation, and a representational democratic order with coalitional politics and strong independent institutions. This may require the final abandonment of the heavy ideological weight of the revolutionary past to further transform the present.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
This paper was prepared during a 2014–15 Fellowship at the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Studies (NIAS), in Wassenaar, the Netherlands. I express my deep gratitude to the NIAS. Also my sincere thanks to Dr. Stefano Bellucci (IISG, Amsterdam).
