Protests
by the Oromo ethnic group have led to spiralling violence and a crackdown on
dissent that risks long-term instability
Demonstrators chant slogans during the Irreecha festival in Bishoftu on 2 October. Later that day, Oromia police fired tear gas, triggering a stampede that left at least 55 people dead. Photograph: Tiksa Negeri/Reuters
Near a sacred volcanic lake for the Oromo
people in the Ethiopian town of Bishoftu, a boisterous crowd seized an unusual
opportunity to chant anti-government slogans during their annual Irreecha
cultural celebration.
Disregarding
the Oromo officials and traditional leaders at the 2 October ceremony, the
youthful protesters crossed their arms in a symbol of defiance and edged
forward towards police armed with batons. In a defining moment for the Oromo
resistance, one man got on stage, grabbed the microphone and sent the thousands
in the audience into fever pitch as he led a chant.
“Down,
down, Woyane! Down, down, TPLF!” he yelled, referring to the Tigrayan
People’s Liberation Front party, which opponents say has controlled
the strategically vital Horn of Africa nation for 25 years.
Minutes later, as demonstrators threatened to
take over the stage, Oromia
police triggered a deadly stampede by
firing tear gas. The crackle of gunfire followed from armed officers and an
armoured vehicle sped into action, exacerbating the panic. People fell into a
deep ditch and were crushed. Others drowned in the lake, contributing to an
official death toll of 52, while rights groups estimate that more
than 100 died.
Social
media activists characterised the bungled dispersal as a “massacre”, falsely
accusing soldiers of shooting people from a helicopter, and called for “five
days of rage”. A week later, the
government announced a state of emergency after protesters rampaged across
Oromia, burning government buildings, and torching farms and factories.
The
events may mark a turning point in the 11-month uprising by the Oromo,
Ethiopia’s most populous ethnic group, who cite frustrations over political and
economic marginalisation. The movement, along with a series of violent
demonstrations occurring since late July in the historically powerful Amhara
region, had already threatened the authority of the government, a favoured partner of
the UK and other
donors that provide close to
$4bn (£3.2bn) in aid a
year.
The
state of emergency is likely to mean the increased use of federal security
forces, including the military, to quell unrest at the expense of regional
states’ autonomy, as well as occasional curfews and suspensions of due process.
The US Department of State said the move could “further enshrine” the
repression that has contributed to the crisis.
The
government has killed about 500 Oromo demonstrators so far during the crisis,
while detaining tens of thousands more in an effort to discourage civil
resistance. The message from those efforts and the latest round of unrest,
however, is that it will be hard to subdue protesters, who see the government
as discredited and embattled. That means the possibility of escalating violence
in Africa’s second-most populous nation.
“If
the government persists with the current stand, Ethiopia may
be in for long-term instability,” said Hassen Hussein, a US-based regional
analyst who has written sympathetically about the Oromo struggle.
The
Bishoftu violence was preceded by a two-month lull, as new Oromo ruling party
leaders emerged and pledged reforms. Before that, on 6 August, activists called
for a day of “grand Oromo protests”, which resulted in about 70 deaths and
included a rare demonstration in Addis
Ababa, the capital. Federal police dispersed that rally, scattering
attendees with batons and boots.
Among
those subsequently detained was an educated young man calling himself Gudina
Jalata. He’d previously stayed away from protests out of fear, but felt
compelled to participate by witnessing continuing injustice across the
sprawling region that encircles the capital. “First you have to be respected
for your dignity – that is why I got involved. There is a lot of discrimination
against the Oromo,” he said.
Before
the government came to power in 1991 by removing a socialist junta, Ethiopia
was a unitary state. A 1995 federal constitution ensured self-rule for
minorities and promoted local languages in schools and government. However,
Oromo allege the state is controlled by Tigrayans, who
comprise 6% of the
country’s almost 100
million-strong population, and say farmers are being unfairly
evicted by investors tied to ruling elites.
The
divergent narratives feed a furious debate. Far from being oppressors, TPLF elites
say their community made huge sacrifices during a 16-year struggle that
liberated the Oromo and other groups from Amhara domination. They add that
ethnic federalism now protects those hard-won rights, and power is shared
equitably within government, while the statist development model pushed
by Meles Zenawi, the former TPLF chairman
and prime minister who died in 2012, helped Ethiopia advance.
For Gudina and the other detainees, such claims seem fanciful.
After time in a cramped cell, his group was driven to a federal police facility
in the Awash area; some were held for a week and then released, others were
held for up to two weeks. There were no showers or toilets and they were given
only small amounts of bread and water. The camp had three components: gruelling
barefoot exercises on gravel under a scorching sun, political lessons and bouts
of investigation.
The workouts included being forced to hop forwards with hands
behind their head. Even the injured had to participate; if there was any
slacking off, they were beaten. “It was really inhuman,” Gudina said.
Tigrayan officers, the interviewed detainees claimed, gave
lessons on federalism and ruling coalition doctrines. While they felt contempt
for their instructors, the prisoners were compliant, although one bucked the
trend and was severely beaten. “The constitution they are teaching us is not
broken by us – they themselves break the law. For example, it’s our right to
protest,” one explained.
Mass detention is not a new tactic for a government that has
largely failed to move Ethiopia on from an authoritarian past. There have been
similar initiatives during these Oromo protests, Human Rights Watch said
in June, while thousands have also been detained in Amhara. After the disputed
elections in 2005, when Ethiopia faced its last major political crisis, the US
state department said up to 18,000 youths were kept at a military camp for
longer than a month.
While the regime undertakes another mass roundup of suspects, the efforts
to indoctrinate Oromo youth are increasingly futile, Hassen believes. “If
anything, it makes people even more defiant,” he said. “It’s exposing how empty
the regime is, making it more vulnerable.”
Ethiopia’s crisis developed after only one
opposition lawmaker won a federal parliamentary seat in 2010 and last
year’s election produced no opposition representative. The
multi-ethnic ruling coalition emphasises its success in building
infrastructure, improving social services, and helping millions out of extreme
poverty, while acknowledging the democratic deficit.
Donor
support for the government, which is also a security ally in Somalia and South
Sudan, is unwavering. That relationship gives officials leeway to
reject western criticism of abuses as a neocolonial attempt to impose liberal
norms. Ethiopia’s leaders believe democratic pluralism is the product of
development, not a means to achieve it.
When
parliament reconvened, the largely ceremonial president, Mulatu Teshome, an
Oromo, promised to create jobs and introduce some proportional representation
at elections. And using familiar refrains, the government blamed Egypt and Eritrea for
stoking the violence by backing a weakened, fragmented Oromo rebel group.
But
the primary threat to Ethiopia is that a portion of its population is now
committed to liberating regime change, rather than campaigning for reforms –
including the young Oromo the police tried to re-educate. “Until we get our
freedom, our self-determination as Oromo, I will continue struggling. I will
continue to death,” said one.
Source:
The Guardian
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