SUPPORT ETHIOPIA INSIGHT .wpedon-container .wpedon-select, .wpedon-container .wpedon-input { width: 200px; min-width: 200px; max-width: 200px; } How exclusionary politics unravel Ethiopia’s fragile civic unity.The unsettled terrain of Ethiopia’s political landscape is shaped by two powerful, often contradictory forces: nationalism, which binds people under a shared identity in moments of crisis and glory, and regionalism, which seeks to empower marginalized groups through autonomy. Yet beneath both lies a quieter, corrosive logic—the habit of defining belonging by whom it excludes.Nationalism and regionalism have long served as scaffolds for seeking identity, recognition, and home. Nationalism offers a banner beneath which Ethiopians rally in times of external threat or validation—an instrument of emotive cohesion, weaving disparate memories into a singular cry of survival or glory.Regionalism, codified through ethnic federalism in the early 1990s, emerged as a structural response to longstanding grievances, promising a pluralist future rooted in cultural self-expression and administrative autonomy for Ethiopia’s diverse population, estimated at over 120 million people belonging to more than 80 distinct ethnic groups.But within both lies a deeper pathology: the recursive logic of othering. The psychological reflex to define oneself by negating the other—a spiritual wound—distorts the nation’s search for solidarity.Beneath the surface of national and regional unity lies a more fragile, unspoken truth: unity born of fear or shared glory is rarely enduring. And when that fear or sentiments of glory subside, deeper fissures—internal, historical, and emotional—resurface with unsettling force.National UnityEthiopian nationalism has, at various historical junctures, served as a kind of emotional adhesive. At its best, it has fostered a sense of collective purpose and pride, enabling unified action against common adversaries or in pursuit of shared aspirations.From international recognition in the arena of athletics to resistance against Italian occupation at the Battle of Adwa in 1896, from mobilization during wars with Somalia and Eritrea to the more recent standoff with Egypt over the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam, national identity reveals its elasticity under pressure.In such moments, the fault lines of ethnicity, class, and region seem to blur—if only for a breath. The country inhales as one.Yet this unity is often reactive rather than generative. It arises in the shadow of threat or the warmth of validation, not in the steady light of shared vision. Once danger passes or the glow of victory fades, so too does the cohesion they summoned. The fractures return—often deepened by the silence they were compelled to endure.This was evident in the rapid re-emergence of regional tensions following periods of national unity, sometimes escalating into conflict over resources or political power, as seen in recent years.Unity that cannot withstand peace is not unity—it is reaction, not moral vision.Federal IllusionEthiopia’s regionalism, formalized through ethnic federalism, was conceived as a corrective. Where nationalism sought to unify, regionalism sought to dignify—to give space for communities to rule in their own name and speak in their own tongue. Its noble intention was to empower marginalized communities and ensure equitable representation within the state structure, granting regional states significant autonomy over internal affairs and cultural expression.Yet in practice, regionalism has often reproduced the very logic it was meant to overcome. Ethnic identity, initially a site of empowerment, has become an instrument of competition—for resources, recognition, and political legitimacy.This often plays out in contests over administrative boundaries, control of local resources, or political appointments, leading to the exclusion of minorities within dominant regional identities. Intra-group tensions simmer beneath the surface, fracturing along sub-regional lines.In Tigray, quiet tensions between areas such as Adwa, Axum, and Enderta complicate the myth of unity, surfacing in debates over historical memory and economic development.In Amhara, rifts between Gojjam, Gondar, Wollo, and Shoa remain unnamed but deeply felt, shaping political alignments and self-perceptions.Oromo identity carries its own regional nuances—Wallaga, Hararghe, Borana, Shoa—each with distinct memories, landscapes, and rhythms of life, sometimes leading to localized claims of grievance or historical neglect.These distinctions—entangled with clan loyalties, dialects, and religious affiliations—produce not a mosaic of mutual recognition, but a constellation of enclaves: cautious, circumscribed, quietly defensive.Regionalism, like nationalism, often includes by excluding. It promises safety—but only by delineating who does not belong.The Quiet ViolenceAt the core of both nationalism and regionalism lies the logic of othering—a psychic economy in which identity is defined by contrast with an imagined or constructed adversary. This is not just a political impulse; it is an ethical failure.Othering thrives in moments of insecurity, exploiting the human desire for clarity and safety by offering the illusion of purity.Its expressions are subtle: the bureaucratic glance of suspicion faced by individuals from another region, the history textbook that omits certain voices, the whispered rumor at a family gathering about “them” versus “us,” the quiet joke about mixed heritage that hints at impurity. Othering often masquerades as vigilance—even virtue—but beneath it lies fear: fear of dilution, fear of irrelevance, fear of being erased by a story not one’s own.And when the external threat or the sentiment of glory recedes, the energies of othering are turned inward. Groups fracture. Sub-groups emerge. The cycle renews itself—this time in a more intimate register.Moral ImaginationThe antidote to othering is not merely administrative. Structural reform is necessary—but insufficient. Ethiopia, like many plural societies, needs a transformation of its moral imagination: a reconfiguration of how belonging is conceived and lived.Such a transformation begins with the interior life. It must be cultivated in classrooms that teach history not as a zero-sum tale of conquest and victimhood, but as a shared, multifaceted story of survival, resilience, and becoming. It must be nurtured in spiritual communities that elevate character over origin, and encouraged in civic discourse that privileges empathy over rivalry.Above all, it must be modeled by leaders who carry a vision larger than their base—who see in every Ethiopian not a rival to outmaneuver, but a bearer of dignity and a vital thread in the national tapestry.This is not an abstract hope. It has an ancient precedent.The Axumite Empire offers a grammar of principled pluralism. It welcomed rather than erased difference. Cushitic Agaw cultivators, Semitic Ge’ez speakers, Greek traders, and Himyarite exiles lived not as assimilated subjects but as recognized communities. Coins from Ezana’s reign bore both crosses and crescent moons. Courts applied customary law for locals and maritime law for foreigners. Even the Prophet Muhammad’s early followers found asylum not in fear, but in moral hospitality.These models remind us that it is possible to build political communities where identity is not homogenized to be honored—and where difference is not a liability, but a resource.Redemptive UnityThis ancient legacy is not a blueprint. It is a memory. And in a nation where selective forgetting has often fueled division, memory can be its own form of resistance. To move forward, Ethiopia must reclaim not only the land or the languages of its people, but the ancient moral intelligence once embedded in its public life.This is not easy work. It asks for the courage to listen, the humility to admit complicity, and the patience to build trust in fragments. But it is the only path toward a unity that is not reactive, but redemptive. It is the only way to forge a belonging that does not require an enemy.Ethiopia’s fragmentation will not be healed by fear-based or glory-driven unity or structural separation alone. Nationalism, while stirring, conceals the fractures it cannot mend. Regionalism, though promising dignity, often replicates the exclusions it was meant to correct. The deeper wound is not territorial—it is psychological, ethical, and spiritual.To build a just and enduring unity, Ethiopia must move beyond the politics of contrast. It must cultivate a civic culture where difference is not a threat but a mirror—where identity is not weaponized, but woven into a larger human story. Only then can the nation begin to heal—not by forgetting what makes us distinct, but by remembering what makes us belong. .wpedon-container .wpedon-select, .wpedon-container .wpedon-input { width: 200px; min-width: 200px; max-width: 200px; } Query or correction? Email us window.addEventListener("sfsi_functions_loaded", function(){if (typeof sfsi_widget_set == "function") {sfsi_widget_set();}}); While this commentary contains the author’s opinions, Ethiopia Insight will correct factual errors.Main photo: A cracked Ethiopian flag painted on a weathered wall, set against a barren landscape—symbolizing the fragility of national unity amid deepening social and political fractures.Published under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International licence. You may not use the material for commercial purposes.The post Othering in Disguise: Nationalism, Regionalism, and the Search for Civic Belonging in Ethiopia appeared first on Ethiopia Insight.