FINFINNE — When the Oromo thanksgiving festival Irreecha and the Ethiopian Orthodox Meskel festival arrive in the capital and surrounding areas within two weeks of each other, the official messaging is strikingly uniform: everything is for peace.

Mardasa, Director of the Oromia Bureau of Administration and Security and Peace Commissioner, stated that security agencies have made full preparations to celebrate both festivals “in a peaceful manner and under the traditions of unity and coexistence.” The federal police have also pledged to deploy adequate forces at Hora Finfinne, Hora Harsadi, and other locations.

Yet behind this placid official statement, Ethiopia in 2026 faces its most severe security situation since the end of the Tigray war in 2022. For a country mired in multi-front conflicts, the “security preparations” for two festivals are far from routine.

Surface Calm and Deep Fear

Irreecha is the single most important thanksgiving celebration for the Oromo people, marking the end of the rainy season and the beginning of the harvest. This year’s Irreecha will be held on Meskerem 23 and 24 in the Ethiopian calendar (October 3 and 4 in the Gregorian calendar) at Hora Finfinne in Addis Ababa and Hora Harsadi in Bishoftu. Masqala took place two weeks earlier in mid-September, with the Demera bonfire ceremony at Meskel Square in the capital drawing large crowds.

Official statements emphasize “coordinated cooperation between security agencies and religious leaders, Gadaa elders, Siinqee women’s representatives, and youth,” and call on the public to “immediately report any suspicious circumstances to the nearest security agency.” This phrasing itself reveals tension.

The concern is not unfounded. During the 2016 Irreecha celebration in Bishoftu, clashes between police and protesters triggered a stampede that killed at least 52 people, becoming a turning point for large-scale anti-government protests in Oromia. At that time, protesters raised crossed wrists—a gesture that later became a symbol of resistance—and advanced toward the stage. Police responded with tear gas and rubber bullets, and people fell into deep ditches as they fled.

A decade later, the political fractures in that land are far from healed.

“Peace” Under Siege

Peace Commissioner Mardasa’s statement was issued at an extremely delicate moment. Just days earlier, seven armed groups announced an alliance aimed at “overthrowing” Prime Minister Abiy’s federal government. Alliance members include the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), the Amhara Fano militia, and the Oromo Liberation Army (OLA)—organizations whose historical enmity runs so deep that their union itself is a signal.

The federal government now faces armed insurgencies on three fronts simultaneously: Tigray, Amhara, and Oromia. Against this backdrop, the large gatherings for Irreecha and Masqala are both a security challenge and a political litmus test: can the government maintain effective control over the capital and surrounding areas in a wartime posture?

The U.S. State Department’s travel advisory lists large parts of Oromia at “Do Not Travel” level, citing “risks of armed conflict, kidnapping, and unrest.” Finland’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs warns that Ethiopia’s “political and ethnic tensions have led to an unstable situation, and unrest may further intensify.” A clear temperature gap exists between these international assessments and the official “everything is ready” posture.

The Dual Function of Festivals

Irreecha has never been merely a religious festival. In the Oromo Gadaa tradition, it is the transition from the “dark season” to the “light season,” a moment for the community to collectively wash away the misfortunes of the past year and pray for a bountiful year ahead. But in contemporary Ethiopia, it is also the largest-scale staging ground for Oromo identity politics.

Similarly, Masqala has a unique cultural embedding in the Oromia region. Academic research documents that during Masqala, Oromo communities perform Garmaama singing, which carries the collective emotional expression of “joy, sorrow, love, and longing,” a cultural ritual of “transition from the old era to the new.”

When these festivals are framed by officials under the banner of “peace and unity,” a sharp question emerges: who defines “peace”? Is it community reconciliation in the Gadaa elders’ tradition, or order and stability under federal government rule?

Peace Commissioner Mardasa’s statement repeatedly emphasizes coordination between “security agencies” and “community leaders,” but the real question may be: when community leaders themselves become a party to political contestation, are festival celebrations an opportunity for unity or a fuse for conflict?

The Risk of Silence

Addis Ababa police say they have made “coordinated preparations” for the Demera ceremony at Meskel Square, but as of press time, authorities have not published any specific traffic control plans, crowd management measures, or security deployment details for any single day. The Oromo Abbaa Gadaa Council frames this year’s Irreecha as an expression of “national consensus,” but in Ethiopia’s current context, that phrase reads more like a prayer than a description.

For the millions about to travel to Hora Finfinne and Hora Harsadi, the reality they face is: a government fighting on multiple fronts simultaneously, an armed opposition that has just formed an anti-government alliance, and a traumatic memory that cost 52 lives a decade ago.

The Peace Commissioner’s statement ends with a blessing: “May you return safely in this harvest season.” In this harvest season, the weight of those words is heavier than ever.