Category Archives: Promotion
Urjii Festival to Represent Oromo Gadaa on the World Stage in Dubai
By Dhabessa Wakjira
ADDIS ABABA — The Urjii Festival, a celebration of Oromo heritage and the Gadaa system, is preparing to represent Oromo culture on the global stage, with organizers calling on all stakeholders to support and stand alongside the initiative. The festival is scheduled to take place on 15 November 2026 in Dubai, United Arab Emirates.
Media Briefing Held in Addis Ababa
On Friday, 20 October 2026, a detailed media briefing on the Urjii Festival was held in Addis Ababa. In keeping with Oromo tradition, the briefing opened with blessings from Abbootii Gadaa (Gadaa leaders) and Haadholii Siinqee (women elders). The event was attended by invited guests, media professionals, and artists.
The briefing provided comprehensive information about the upcoming festival, which is being organized to showcase Oromo culture, traditions, and the Gadaa system to an international audience. The festival is expected to serve as a platform for cultural exchange and economic engagement between Oromia and the diaspora community in the UAE.
A Call to the Diaspora
The organizers have extended an invitation to the Oromo community in the UAE and neighboring countries to participate in the festival and take part in the various programs being prepared. The festival is designed to strengthen social ties and community connections among Oromo people in the region.
The Urjii Festival in Dubai will feature a diverse program, including:
- Community gathering and social networking events
- An Investment Forum
- A Coffee Trade exhibition
- Short film screenings
- A photography gallery
- Book displays
- Fashion and traditional attire shows
- Dance performances
- A major music concert featuring numerous artists
The festival will also highlight tourism destinations in Oromia, promoting the region as a place of cultural and historical significance.
Recognition of Gadaa on the World Stage
The organizers emphasized that the Urjii Festival represents the Gadaa system and Oromo heritage on the world stage. “The Urjii Festival is going to represent our Gadaa system and showcase our culture to the world,” the organizers stated. “Therefore, every stakeholder should support it and stand alongside it.”
The festival is being organized with the support of the Yaa’ii Gullallee multi-media and event organization, which has pledged its commitment to ensuring the success of the event.
A Moment of Pride for the Oromo Nation
The Urjii Festival comes at a time when Oromo cultural expression is gaining increasing international recognition. The Gadaa system, inscribed by UNESCO as Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2016, is a source of pride for the Oromo people and a testament to their democratic traditions. The festival in Dubai will provide an opportunity for the global Oromo diaspora to celebrate their heritage, connect with one another, and share their culture with the world.
As the organizers prepare for the November event, the call has gone out to the community in the UAE and beyond: come, participate, and be part of this historic celebration.
For more information about the Urjii Festival, including registration and participation details, please contact the organizing committee at Elias Kiflu Tolera.
The Silence of the Press: Ethiopia’s Media Authority Suspends The Reporter Indefinitely
In a decision that rights advocates are calling a watershed moment for press freedom, the Ethiopian Media Authority has revoked the registration of one of the country’s most storied independent news brands — and the clock on its silence has no end date
By Daandii Ragabaa
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ADDIS ABABA — For more than two decades, The Reporter has been a fixture of Ethiopian public life — a bilingual newspaper that carried investigative reporting, analysis, and the kind of scrutiny that powerful institutions rarely welcome. Its Amharic edition, its English edition, and its digital platforms together formed one of the few remaining spaces where Ethiopian readers could encounter reporting not calibrated to official messaging.
That space, as of this week, has been declared closed.
The Ethiopian Media Authority announced that it has indefinitely suspended the registration certificate of The Reporter — encompassing the Amharic-language Reporter, the English-language The Reporter, and the Ethiopia Reporter digital platforms — effective from the 23rd of the month. The suspension has no stated end date. The institution has been barred from all printing and publishing activity.
A Decision in Full
The Media Authority grounded its decision in the powers granted to it under Proclamation No. 1238/2013, invoking a year of content monitoring that it says confirmed “repeated violations of the law and professional ethics.”
The violations cited are sweeping. The Authority accused the publication of disseminating content contrary to the country’s national interest; of fomenting confusion among the public by inflating political and economic issues; and of spreading distorted information that exerts a negative influence on foreign investment, tourism, and diplomacy. It further stated that the publication had persisted in offering unbalanced reporting that tarnished the country’s image.
According to the announcement, the Authority had previously engaged with the media outlet’s owners and editors, held discussions, and issued final warnings in an effort to secure corrections. But no improvement was observed in the content, it said — and so the suspension was imposed.
A Familiar Script, a Higher Stakes
The language of the decision will be familiar to anyone who has followed Ethiopia’s media landscape in recent years. The Authority has used similar formulations to justify the suspension of other outlets — most prominently Tigray TV, which was shut down indefinitely in the aftermath of the breakdown of the Pretoria Agreement. Earlier this month, the Authority also indefinitely suspended the registration of another independent publication, Addis Standard.
What distinguishes the suspension of The Reporter is not the language but the institution. The Reporter is not a partisan outlet or a niche platform. It is one of the oldest and most established independent newspapers in the country — a publication that has, over the years, trained generations of Ethiopian journalists, hosted debate, and maintained a reputation for professional rigor that even its critics acknowledge.
The closure of a newspaper is never merely the closure of an office. It is the closure of a habit of reading, of a community of writers, of a memory of what independent journalism in Ethiopia can look like.
“National Interest” and the Moving Line
The Authority’s invocation of “national interest” is the crux of the matter, and the source of deepest concern among press-freedom advocates.
The concept is not defined in the announcement. It does not need to be. In practice, “national interest” functions as a moving line — one whose location is determined by the regulator, in the moment, according to criteria it does not disclose. A report on a security operation may be said to endanger national interest. An analysis of economic policy may be said to foment confusion. An investigation into official misconduct may be said to tarnish the country’s image.
The problem with such a standard is not that it is applied too strictly. It is that it cannot be contested. There is no counter-argument the accused can offer against a criterion whose content is never specified. The Authority’s decision cites a year of monitoring, but the monitoring methodology, the specific articles found wanting, and the reasoning connecting them to the cited violations are not made public.
The result is a regulatory environment in which a newspaper can be shut down without ever knowing exactly which words condemned it — and in which every other publication is left to guess.
The Wider Context
The suspension of The Reporter did not happen in a vacuum. It follows a pattern that has accelerated in recent months.
In January, Haymanot Zeleke was appointed Director of the Ethiopian Media Authority — a figure with a long career inside Ethiopia’s state media apparatus, who had previously enumerated the categories of content she considered violations: obscenity, content harmful to youth, disrespect toward women, unverified sourcing. The board of the Authority is chaired by Redwan Hussein, who simultaneously serves as Director General of the National Intelligence and Security Service — an arrangement whose implications for press freedom are difficult to overstate.
In September, Tigray TV was suspended indefinitely and barred as a source. This month, Addis Standard was suspended. This week, The Reporter. The sequence is not random. It is a consolidation — a steady, methodical narrowing of the space in which independent journalism can operate.
Meanwhile, the country’s political and security situation remains fragile: the collapse of the Pretoria Agreement, renewed fighting in the north, a restive Oromia, and strained relations with Eritrea. In such moments, the temptation to treat information as a weapon to be controlled rather than a public good to be protected is at its strongest.
What the Newspaper Leaves Behind
The Reporter’s closure will not be felt immediately in the way a power outage or a road closure is felt. Its absence will accumulate slowly, in the stories that go unreported, the questions that go unasked, the readers who gradually forget that a newspaper once held the powerful to account.
But for the journalists who worked there, the end is immediate. Their bylines are suspended. Their investigations — some of them months or years in the making — are frozen. Their sources, who trusted them, are left exposed. And their colleagues at other publications are left with a single, inescapable question: am I next?
The Authority has framed its decision as a matter of law and professional ethics. The newspaper’s defenders frame it as a matter of survival — of an independent press in a country that has never fully allowed one to flourish. Both framings can be true at once. What cannot be disputed is that a newspaper that existed last week does not exist this week, and that the decision to end it was made by an institution whose chairman also runs the country’s intelligence service.
The Reporter’s presses have gone quiet. The question now is how long the silence will last — and who will be left to break it.
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The Ethiopian Media Authority’s decision was announced in an official statement. The Reporter has not issued a public response at the time of publication.
The Price of Truth: When Telling the Story Costs Everything
On the International Day to End Impunity, the UN chief sounds an alarm: journalists are being harassed, surveilled, sued, attacked, imprisoned — and sometimes killed — simply for doing their jobs
By Dhabessa Wakjira
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They gather the news in war zones and city halls, in courtrooms and courthouse squares. They ask the uncomfortable questions, chase the paper trail, and knock on the doors of the powerful. And increasingly, for doing exactly that, they pay a devastating price.
On Monday, as the world marked the International Day to End Impunity for Crimes against Journalists, United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres issued a blunt and urgent appeal: the world must protect media professionals so they can carry out their essential work safely.
“Journalists continue to pay an outrageous price for telling the truth,” Guterres said, noting that reporters are routinely harassed, surveilled, sued, physically attacked or imprisoned — and sometimes even tortured or killed — simply for doing their jobs.
“Nothing should impede journalists’ ability to do their work, which is fundamental to human rights, democracy and the rule of law,” he added.
A Global Pattern of Pressure
The Secretary-General’s warning reflects a reality familiar to press-freedom organizations around the world. From authoritarian capitals to established democracies, journalists face a growing arsenal of tools designed to silence them: surveillance software deployed against reporters’ phones, defamation lawsuits engineered to bankrupt newsrooms, arbitrary detention, and, in the worst cases, physical violence that goes unpunished.
The day itself — established by the UN General Assembly in 2013 — commemorates the 2013 assassination of two French journalists, Ghislaine Dupont and Claude Verlon, killed in Mali. More than a decade later, the core problem it was designed to confront persists: the vast majority of crimes against journalists go unpunished, emboldening those who would harm them.
Impunity, press-freedom advocates argue, is the engine of the crisis. When attacks on journalists go unprosecuted, the message sent is unmistakable: the truth-teller is fair game.
“Fundamental to Human Rights, Democracy and the Rule of Law”
Guterres’ statement places journalists at the center of the democratic project — not as a special-interest group, but as an essential infrastructure of free societies. A free press holds governments accountable, exposes corruption, and gives citizens the information they need to make decisions about their own lives. When journalists are intimidated into silence, it is not only their rights that are violated — it is the public’s right to know.
That principle has particular resonance in a year that has seen journalists detained in record numbers, newsrooms raided, and reporters targeted online with coordinated campaigns of harassment and disinformation. In conflict zones, press insignia have offered little protection; in peacetime, legal harassment has become a favored weapon of the powerful.
A Call to Action
The UN chief’s message on Monday was less a commemoration than a call to action. Protecting journalists, he suggested, requires more than rhetoric — it demands that governments investigate attacks, prosecute perpetrators, and safeguard the legal and physical safety of media workers.
For the journalists still working the beat — the ones filing from conflict lines, sitting through court hearings, and requesting records that someone would prefer stay buried — the stakes are personal. Every story filed is an act of persistence. Every byline, a small assertion that the truth matters.
On this International Day to End Impunity, the message from the UN’s highest office was clear: the price journalists pay for telling the truth is already too high — and the world has a duty to bring it down.
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This article was produced in recognition of the International Day to End Impunity for Crimes against Journalists, observed annually on November 2.
“The Worqitu We Saw at Moyale”: Oromo Identity, Boorana Women, and the Fire of Defiance
A viral message from the frontier of identity — celebrating the Boorana women who stand at the border of land and selfhood — has reignited a conversation about what it means to be Oromo, and who pays the price for defending it
By Daandii Ragabaa
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It begins with a declaration, and it ends with a blessing.
Across social media this week, an impassioned message written in Afaan Oromoo has been shared and reshared — a tribute to the Oromo spirit, to the fighters at Moyale, and above all to the women of Boorana who, in the words of the post, stand for their land and their identity.
“Every Oromo, if she/he is wounded for her/his Oromoness and defies the enemy in this way — even if we become a plaything for anyone’s mockery — behold, at Moyale we have seen many Worqitus ones who struggle for their border and their identity,” the message reads. “May their seed multiply, Abo.”
Then, a proverb, and a salute: “Sabni Hidhannoo qabu mataa gadii hin qabu” — a nation with a covenant holds its head high. “Baga kabachiiftan! Ammallee duratti!” — Congratulations! And forward, still forward! “Dubartii Boorana!!” — Boorana women!!
A Message from the Frontier
Moyale sits at the edge of things — a place where land, identity, and history press against one another. In the Oromo imagination, and particularly in Boorana memory, such places are not merely geography. They are archives. Every ridge and river carries the story of who belongs to the land and who has defended it.
The message’s reference to “the border” is therefore more than a line on a map. It is the boundary of belonging itself — the place where a people’s right to be who they are is tested.
And it is there, the message insists, that “golden ones” have been seen. The imagery is deliberate: gold in Oromo and Boorana oral tradition is not merely precious — it is enduring, tested by fire, and impossible to counterfeit. To call the women of Boorana “golden” is to say that their worth has been proven in the crucible.
“Dubartii Boorana” — The Women Who Carry the Nation
The exclamation that closes the message — Dubartii Boorana! — is both salute and summons. In Boorana society, women hold a distinct and honored place: custodians of tradition, keepers of the gadaa calendar’s moral memory, and, in moments of crisis, the ones who stiffen the spine of the community.
The message’s author understands this. By centering women in a tribute to resistance, the post quietly overturns the assumption that the story of struggle belongs only to men. It is the mothers, the daughters, the wives, and the sisters who transmit identity across generations — who teach a child what it means to be Oromo before any flag or border can.
“May their seed multiply” is thus not a casual blessing. It is a prayer for continuity — for the future itself.
The Weight of “Being a Plaything”
Perhaps the most striking line in the message is also its most painful: the acknowledgment that a people who fight for their identity may be mocked, dismissed, or made “a plaything” in the eyes of others.
It is a recognition born of experience. Oromo communities have long contended with marginalization, with the distortion of their history, and with the casual contempt of those who see identity assertion as inconvenient. The message does not deny this. Instead, it absorbs the mockery and answers it with dignity: even if we are mocked, behold what we have seen at Moyale.
There is an old strength in that posture — the strength of a people who have learned that dignity is not granted by others but claimed by oneself.
“A Nation with a Covenant Holds Its Head High”
The proverb at the heart of the message — Sabni Hidhannoo qabu mataa gadii hin qabu — is a key to understanding everything else.
Hidhannoo is covenant, bond, agreement — the sacred compact that binds a community to its values, its land, and its future. A nation with such a covenant, the proverb says, need never bow its head. It can look the world in the eye.
For the Oromo, that covenant is carried in the gadaa system, in the oral epics, in the shared memory of the Boorana and beyond. It is the reason the message can move so quickly from lament to triumph — from the wound to the blessing, from the mockery to the gold.
A Blessing That Travels
What makes this message remarkable is not only its content but its movement. Composed in Afaan Oromoo and shared across platforms, it travels from the specific — a place called Moyale, a people called Boorana — to the universal: the right of any people to defend who they are.
“Baga kabachiiftan! Ammallee duratti!” — Congratulations! Forward, still forward!
It is the language of a people who know that the struggle for identity is never finished, only renewed. And it is a reminder, as the message’s author clearly intends, that the “golden ones” are not only at Moyale. They are wherever an Oromo woman teaches her child the name of her people, wherever a community holds its head high, and wherever the covenant is remembered.
The seed, the blessing says, will multiply.
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The message referenced in this feature was widely shared in Afaan Oromoo on social media. This article honors the sentiment expressed in that message and the communities it celebrates.
Who Speaks for the Oromo? A Scholar’s Challenge to the Single Story of Liberation
In a provocative new essay, Dr. Sultan Abda Neja argues that no party, army, or intellectual owns the Oromo struggle — and that true liberation may be measured by whether those who disagree with it are still free to speak
By Dhabessa Wakjira
It is a question that cuts to the heart of one of Africa’s most consequential political debates — and one that, until recently, was rarely asked so directly in public.
Who has the right to define the goals and future of the Oromo liberation struggle?
In a new essay by Dr. Sultan Abda Neja, published under that very title, the scholar and commentator does not simply answer the question. He dismantles the premise that it has a single answer at all.
His thesis is as simple as it is contentious: the Oromo people are not politically homogeneous, and no organization — not the Oromo Liberation Front, not the Oromo Federalist Congress, not the Prosperity Party, not the armed Oromo Liberation Army — holds an exclusive mandate to speak for them. The right to define the destination of a people’s struggle, he argues, belongs to the people themselves.
The Argument at Its Core
Dr. Neja’s essay opens by acknowledging what is beyond dispute: the Oromo have endured political domination, land dispossession, cultural marginalization, and unequal representation. These historical injustices, he writes, “laid the foundations of modern Oromo nationalism and the demand for self-determination.”
But he draws a careful distinction. Recognizing historical injustice, he argues, “does not automatically establish that dismantling Ethiopia is the only possible solution.” Nor does it prescribe a single political destination.
The essay takes direct aim at a tendency among some scholars, commentators, and activists to equate the political program of the OLF — independence for Oromia — with the aspirations of the entire Oromo nation. While acknowledging the OLF’s historic contribution, Dr. Neja insists that the struggle’s history is far more plural than its most vocal interpreters allow.
He traces that plurality through a gallery of figures and movements: Haile Fida of MEISON, who advocated socialist transformation and the resolution of the nationalities question; Hussein Suura of the Ethiopian National Liberation Front, which sought liberation for all Ethiopian peoples on the basis of equality regardless of ethnicity, religion, or class; and General Tadesse Birru and Mamo Mezemir of the Mecha-Tulema Self-Help Association, who pursued Oromo empowerment and education within Ethiopia before state repression radicalized their politics.
These figures, he argues, prove that “Oromo political aspirations were not exclusively associated with the pursuit of an independent Oromia.” They also included efforts to democratize and transform Ethiopia while defending Oromo identity and rights.
A Question of Mandate
The essay’s most pointed intervention concerns the relationship between armed struggle and democratic legitimacy.
The existence of the Oromo Liberation Army, Dr. Neja writes, “may reflect genuine grievances, political exclusion, insecurity, or the failure of democratic institutions.” These conditions deserve serious examination. But military strength, he argues, “does not automatically establish a democratic mandate to determine the political future of an entire population.”
Any movement claiming to fight for liberation, he insists, must explain what political order it intends to establish, how it will protect civilians, accommodate political disagreement, safeguard minority communities, and ensure accountability.
“A movement that claims to fight for the people’s freedom,” he writes, “must also defend their freedom to disagree with the movement itself.”
It is a standard he applies consistently — to the OLF and OLA, to the Prosperity Party, and to federalist organizations alike. The PP, he argues, “must be judged by its actual record in protecting Oromo rights and regional autonomy, not merely by the presence of Oromo politicians in government.” Federalists must demonstrate how their proposals can prevent renewed centralization while protecting the rights of all citizens.
Self-Determination Is Not a Synonym for Independence
At the heart of the essay lies a conceptual clarification that carries significant political weight.
Self-determination, Dr. Neja reminds readers, is a broad principle concerning the right of peoples to determine their political status and pursue their economic, social, and cultural development. It is enshrined in Article 1 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and recognized in Ethiopia’s 1995 Constitution, including the right to secession under Article 39.
Independence, he argues, is one expression of that right — but not the only conceivable outcome. Meaningful autonomy, democratic federalism, and constitutional reform may also realize collective political rights.
He also raises a practical warning. Secession from a multinational country in which Oromia itself is home to multiple Ethiopian nations and nationalities, he notes, carries “complex security and economic consequences.” The post-independence crises of Eritrea and South Sudan, he suggests, offer cautionary lessons.
The burden of argument, he insists, applies to everyone. Advocates of independence must explain how an independent state would guarantee democracy, security, economic opportunity, minority protection, and accountability. Advocates of federalism must show how federal institutions can protect genuine regional autonomy and prevent renewed centralization.
“You cannot defend the people’s right to self-determination,” he writes, “while denying them the freedom to reject your preferred political destination.”
Has Liberation Already Been Achieved?
The essay does not shy away from the question that divides Oromo politics most sharply today: whether the Oromo have already been substantially liberated, or whether liberation remains incomplete until a referendum decides between independence and continued membership in a democratic Ethiopian federation.
From the OLF’s traditional perspective, full liberation requires the freedom to determine political status, including the option of independence. Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, by contrast, has argued that the central historical questions — recognition of Afaan Oromo, cultural identity, and regional self-administration — have been substantially addressed, leaving governance, democracy, security, and development as the unfinished challenges.
Dr. Neja does not declare a winner. He notes that the question of majority preference “would require credible public consultation.” But he observes that many Oromo political actors, including federalist advocates and some within the OLF and PP constituencies, increasingly emphasize democratizing the federation and strengthening Oromia’s constitutional autonomy rather than pursuing independence as an inevitable destination.
This, he writes, presents “a serious challenge to the traditional OLF narrative, particularly among younger generations who have grown up experiencing Afaan Oromo in education and regional administration.”
The Boundaries of Oromummaa
Perhaps the essay’s most delicate argument concerns identity itself.
Oromummaa, Dr. Neja writes, represents a shared sense of Oromo identity, historical experience, cultural belonging, and collective consciousness. It should not be transformed into an ideological instrument through which one organization determines who qualifies as a legitimate Oromo.
He surveys the diversity of Oromo thought on nationalism itself — from scholars who treat it as fuel for struggle to those skeptical of ethnic nationalism, and to the Prime Minister’s own criticism that Oromo nationalism “belittled the Oromo.” These differences, he suggests, are not evidence of authenticity or betrayal. They are evidence of intellectual life.
“Political disagreement is not betrayal,” he writes. “Supporting a different constitutional arrangement does not make someone less Oromo.”
An Oromo who supports independence is entitled to that preference. An Oromo who supports democratic multinational federalism is equally entitled. An Oromo who participates in the Prosperity Party “does not lose their Oromo identity because of that political choice.”
“Organizational loyalty is not the measure of national identity,” he writes, “and historical contribution is not an unlimited democratic mandate.”
From Resistance to Governance
The essay builds on Dr. Neja’s earlier work, From Resistance to Governance: Jawar Mohammed’s Progressive Patriotism and the Oromo’s Role in Redefining Ethiopian Nationalism, in which he explored the shift of Oromo political agency from resistance toward institution-building.
That shift, he argues, demands more than opposition. It requires demonstrating the capacity to build and sustain democratic institutions — accountable government, public security, economic opportunity, and democratic participation.
And it requires a willingness to answer hard questions. He poses two to those who present independence as the only legitimate solution: Would an independent Oromia permit its citizens to advocate a different constitutional arrangement, including a renewed relationship with Ethiopia? Would opposition parties compete freely, and would political opponents enjoy equal protection under the law?
He poses the mirror-image questions to those who defend the federal status quo: Would the federal government genuinely respect Oromia’s constitutional autonomy, even when regional leaders disagree with federal policies? Would citizens be free to criticize the government without being accused of undermining national unity?
“The democratic legitimacy of a state,” he concludes, “cannot be determined solely by whether it is independent, federal, or unitary. It must also be measured by whether citizens can participate freely in political life, challenge those in power, exercise their rights, and change their leaders peacefully.”
A Conclusion That Returns the Question
The essay ends where it began — with the people, not the organizations.
“The Oromo people need neither an imposed union nor an imposed independence,” Dr. Neja writes. “They need the freedom to choose their own political future.”
No intellectual, political party, or armed movement, he insists, has the exclusive right to make that choice on their behalf.
“That right belongs to the Oromo people themselves.”
It is a conclusion that will satisfy neither the movement’s staunchest partisans nor the government’s firmest defenders. But it is one that insists on something increasingly rare in polarized political debates: that the most radical act of liberation may be the willingness to let people disagree.
Dr. Sultan Abda Neja’s essay, “Who Has the Right to Define the Goals and Future of the Oromo Liberation Struggle?” is available in full through the author’s publication channels.
The full article can be viewed as follow:
Ethiopia’s Leaders Trade Suits for Uniforms: A Wartime Cabinet in Training
By ONA Staff Reporter
ADDIS ABABA — In a striking image that has circulated widely across Ethiopian social media, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed stands shoulder to shoulder with his cabinet members and senior officials, not in the dark suits of governance but in the olive-green fatigues of military trainees. The photographs, shared on the Prime Minister’s own social media pages on Saturday, October 31, 2026, reveal a government preparing for war—and framing that preparation as a strategic necessity.
A Cabinet in Uniform
Among those pictured in military training gear at the Hurso facility were Mufrihat Kamil, Speaker of the Federation Council; Dr. Fitsum Assefa, Minister of Finance; and Dr. Mekdes Daba, Minister of Health. They were not observing exercises from a distance. They were participating in them.
According to the Prime Minister’s statement, the officials are undergoing military training at Hurso, a site that has become synonymous with the government’s increasingly militarized approach to statecraft. The training, Abiy explained, is designed to help officials “properly understand and implement” the ideas contained in what he calls the “Great Strategy of Additive Civilization” (Ye Medemer Siltenie Talaku Strategy).
The “Additive Civilization” Doctrine
The strategy, as articulated by the Prime Minister, contains principles that read as much like a wartime manifesto as a governance blueprint: “ensuring national security at all times,” “building a strong country that cannot be bent by anyone or anything,” and “mobilizing the structure from bottom to top for a national purpose.”
Military science, Abiy wrote, “has no competitor in shaping the purpose and humanity of a person.” He described it as a discipline that makes people “physically, spiritually, morally, and in execution disciplined.” The knowledge, skills, and experience drawn “from military science and life,” he argued, are essential to implementing the strategy.
“Leaders of the Additive government are taking military training at the Hurso military training camp,” Abiy wrote. “Soldiers have targets; civilians have objectives. The goal of both is to register victory. By combining both disciplines, we will create a generation that hits the target and achieves the objective.”
The Context: A Region on Edge
The timing of the training is not incidental. It comes as the Ethiopian National Defense Force (ENDF) has moved closer to the border with Eritrea, amid mounting fears that the two countries—locked in a diplomatic freeze over accusations of supporting insurgents and a dispute over sea access—could be drawn into war. The two nations have severed diplomatic relations, and the threat of renewed conflict hangs over the Horn of Africa.
The training also comes as the government continues to consolidate its military posture. This week, during a visit to Russia, Prime Minister Abiy announced that Ethiopia had received Su-35 fighter jets—advanced aircraft that would make Ethiopia the first sub-Saharan African nation to operate them. The delivery represents a significant escalation in the country’s aerial capabilities.
The Prime Minister has repeatedly stated that strengthening Ethiopia’s military capacity across all sectors is among his objectives. The images of his cabinet in uniform are not merely symbolic; they are a signal that the government’s approach to governance has become inseparable from its approach to war.
A Government at War with Itself?
The photographs raise uncomfortable questions. A finance minister in fatigues, a health minister in combat gear—what does it mean for a government to train its civilian leadership for battle? The Prime Minister’s framing suggests a belief that military discipline is the antidote to the indiscipline of civilian governance, that the battlefield’s clarity of purpose should be brought to the messy work of running a state.
But critics may see something else: a government that has increasingly turned to military solutions for political problems. The training at Hurso, the procurement of advanced fighter jets, the escalating rhetoric—all of this unfolds against a backdrop of internal conflict, including renewed fighting with forces in northern Ethiopia and ongoing unrest in Oromia.
The government has not disclosed when the training began or how long it will last. What is clear is that the image of a cabinet in uniform is intended to convey a message: Ethiopia’s leadership is preparing for something. Whether that something is defense, deterrence, or the prosecution of war remains to be seen.
The Image That Speaks
In a region where symbols carry enormous weight, the photograph of Abiy and his officials in military fatigues is more than a social media post. It is a declaration of intent. The “Great Strategy of Additive Civilization” is being taught at a military camp, to a cabinet, in a country on the brink. The soldiers have targets; the civilians have objectives. And the Prime Minister has made clear that he expects both to hit them.
As Ethiopia navigates a precarious moment in its history, the sight of its leaders in uniform offers a glimpse of how they see the road ahead: not as a path of diplomacy and civilian governance, but as a campaign to be won.
Source: EBC (Ethiopian Broadcasting Corporation) and the Prime Minister’s official social media pages.
The Man Who Would Redefine Ethiopia
Jawar Mohammed’s “Progressive Patriotism” and the Oromo Question: A New Chapter in Ethiopia’s National Story
By Sultan Abda Neja, Ph.D.
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For much of modern Ethiopian history, the question of who owns the nation has been answered in blood, in policy, and in silence. It is a question that has haunted the Oromo people—Ethiopia’s largest ethnolinguistic community—for generations. Their relationship with the modern Ethiopian state has been shaped by conquest, land dispossession, political exclusion, and cultural marginalization. Yet something is shifting. The old binary of Oromo resistance versus Ethiopian state nationalism is being challenged—not by a soldier, not by a separatist, but by a media-savvy activist-turned-thinker named Jawar Mohammed.
At the heart of this shift is a deceptively simple concept: Progressive Patriotism. It is Jawar’s attempt to articulate a political framework in which Oromo identity and Ethiopian national belonging are not mutually exclusive. It asks a new question: Can Oromo nationalism help redefine Ethiopian nationalism from within?
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The Long Road from Resistance
To understand the weight of Jawar’s proposition, one must first understand the weight of history. Oromo nationalism did not emerge in a vacuum. It grew out of the expansion and consolidation of the modern Ethiopian state, the incorporation of Oromo territories, and subsequent struggles over land, language, religion, and political representation.
The Ethiopian state-building project, for much of its history, was associated with centralized authority, cultural homogenization, and the marginalization of groups whose languages and political identities differed from those of the ruling elite. The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), founded in 1973, became the most prominent expression of Oromo resistance. But even then, Oromo nationalism was never monolithic. Some advocated independence; others supported multinational federalism, stronger regional autonomy, or a democratic Ethiopian state.
The 1995 Constitution, which formally recognized the rights of nations, nationalities, and peoples—including the right to self-determination up to secession—represented a significant shift. Yet constitutional recognition did not automatically produce democratic governance. The political crisis that culminated in the 2014–2018 protests exposed the limits of the existing order. Oromo protesters mobilized against political exclusion, human rights abuses, and the proposed expansion of Addis Ababa into surrounding Oromia.
Then came 2018. Abiy Ahmed, an Oromo politician, became prime minister. It was a moment of symbolic triumph—an Oromo had reached the highest office in the land. But symbolism, as Jawar would later argue, is not transformation.
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Jawar’s Intervention: From Resistance to Governance
Jawar Mohammed’s political trajectory—from a fiery activist and media owner to a prominent voice in the debate over Ethiopia’s future—mirrors the broader evolution of Oromo political consciousness. His call for a transition from resistance politics to governance politics, and from ethnonationalism to broader nation-building, represents a significant shift.
In his writings and interviews, Jawar argues that Oromo politics must evolve beyond its traditional oppositional orientation. A movement that has historically defined itself through resistance must now demonstrate its capacity to govern, build institutions, deliver public services, and contribute to national stability. Political legitimacy cannot be sustained indefinitely through historical grievances alone.
This is not to suggest that Jawar asks Oromos to abandon their identity or their legitimate demands. Rather, he challenges the assumption that protecting Oromo interests and building a common Ethiopian political future are mutually exclusive. Given the Oromo people’s demographic significance, geographical position, cultural influence, and historical role in Ethiopia, their political participation is essential to any sustainable project of national reconstruction.
In a recent interview on Kallatti Media, Jawar explained that Ethiopian nationalism should not be understood as an identity or political project owned exclusively by historically dominant groups. Oromos, like other peoples of Ethiopia, have an equal right to define, shape, and participate in the national project. An Oromo can embrace Ethiopian citizenship, contribute to national unity, and take pride in a shared political identity without surrendering Oromo cultural identity or constitutional rights.
From this standpoint, Progressive Patriotism challenges the historical tendency to associate Ethiopian nationalism with cultural assimilation, political centralization, or the dominance of one group. It opens the possibility of an inclusive nationalism in which belonging to Ethiopia does not require becoming less Oromo.
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The Goobana Question: Heroes, Traitors, and the Politics of Memory
Jawar’s concept of Progressive Patriotism extends beyond constitutional arrangements. It also engages with the politics of memory—specifically, the way political movements construct historical narratives that distinguish heroes from traitors.
In his text, Goobana: The Hero-Traitor Narrative in the Oromo Struggle, Jawar examines how the figure of Goobana Daacee—a historical Oromo figure remembered as a collaborator with Emperor Menelik II and, consequently, a traitor—has been used within the Oromo national movement. The narrative of betrayal, Jawar argues, can serve important political purposes: it mobilizes communities, establishes collective memory, and defines political loyalties.
But when a movement moves from resistance to governance, such narratives become liabilities. A movement operating in opposition can organize its political identity around a clear distinction between the oppressed and the oppressor, resistance and collaboration, liberation and betrayal. A political movement that enters government, however, must negotiate competing interests, govern citizens with different identities, and build institutions that extend beyond its original constituency.
Jawar suggests that political movements may need to move from a resistance narrative toward a governing narrative. Figures previously condemned may be reassessed; figures celebrated may be subjected to new scrutiny. The task, he argues, is not to replace every hero with a traitor, but to create a political culture in which historical disagreements can be examined without becoming grounds for denying citizenship, identity, or political legitimacy.
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The Abiy Paradox: An Oromo Leader, but an Oromo-Empowering Government?
The question of Oromo ownership of Ethiopian nationalism cannot be separated from the political trajectory of Abiy Ahmed. His rise to power in 2018 symbolized the opportunity to translate Oromo political mobilization into democratic transformation at the national level.
His early reform agenda generated expectations of political liberalization, reconciliation, and greater openness. His government’s peace initiative with Eritrea further strengthened the image of a leader seeking to move beyond longstanding regional hostility. But the subsequent political project—associated with the formation of the Prosperity Party in 2019 and the language of Medemer—proved contentious.
Supporters interpreted Medemer as an attempt to overcome political fragmentation and the limitations of ethnic-based party organization. Critics, including Oromo nationalists, argued that it weakened the political and institutional protections established under multinational federalism. The war in Tigray, the subsequent armed conflicts in other regions, political polarization, and serious allegations of abuses by state and non-state actors exposed the limitations of a political transition that did not produce a broadly accepted democratic settlement.
The broader lesson is that an Oromo’s accession to the center of Ethiopian power does not automatically mean that Oromo nationalism has achieved its democratic objectives. An Oromo-led government is not necessarily an Oromo-empowering government, just as an Ethiopian national identity is not necessarily an exclusionary identity. The decisive issue is the character of the institutions and policies through which political power is exercised.
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The Critics Speak: Progressive Patriotism Under the Microscope
Jawar’s Progressive Patriotism has not gone unchallenged. Critics from across the political spectrum have raised important questions about its conceptual clarity, its practical implications, and its relationship to the status quo.
Moges Zewdu Teshome argues that Jawar conflates multinational federalism, multicultural federalism, and a multicultural unitary state—distinct institutional arrangements that cannot be resolved simply by democratizing an allegedly flawed constitutional structure. He advocates revisiting the constitutional order, strengthening an inclusive civic identity, and building a political community in which citizenship is not subordinated to ethnic affiliation.
Professor Messay Kebede challenges Jawar’s claim that ethnonationalism has become effectively irreversible, reasoning that political identities and institutions are historically constructed and can therefore change. He proposes democratic or civic nationalism as a more coherent alternative, arguing that inclusive democratic institutions can protect cultural diversity without making ethnic political sovereignty the organizing principle of the state.
Benti Geleta Buli, through a sentiment analysis of Jawar’s proposal, notes that the term “progressive” remains inadequately defined and could become a rhetorical framework that preserves the status quo rather than resolving Ethiopia’s political divisions. He presents constitutional patriotism as a more constructive alternative grounded in shared constitutional values, democratic participation, and inclusive citizenship.
And in my own earlier critique, I argued that Jawar’s distinction between “centripetal” and “centrifugal” political forces unfairly portrays ethnonationalist movements while underemphasizing the historical injustices, assimilationist policies, and authoritarian practices that gave rise to them. Appealing to right-wing Ethiopian nationalists by equating their historical responsibilities with those of ethnonationalist movements risks undermining the legitimate struggles and sacrifices of nations and nationalities, including the Oromo people.
These critiques are not dismissive. They are, in fact, a sign of the seriousness with which Jawar’s intervention is being taken. They demand that Progressive Patriotism move beyond slogan and toward institutional specificity.
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Toward a Constitutional Patriotism: The Roadmap
If Progressive Patriotism is to become more than a rhetorical compromise, it must be grounded in concrete institutional commitments. One possible way to clarify it is to connect it to constitutional patriotism—attachment to a political community based on shared constitutional principles, democratic institutions, equal citizenship, and fundamental rights rather than ethnic or cultural uniformity.
For Ethiopia, such a framework would require at least five commitments:
1. Meaningful regional self-government and the rights of nations, nationalities, and peoples must be constitutionally protected.
2. Federal and regional governments must be accountable through genuinely competitive political processes and an independent judiciary.
3. Minorities within regional states must enjoy equal citizenship, cultural rights, security, and political participation.
4. National institutions must be accessible to citizens regardless of language, ethnicity, religion, or political affiliation.
5. Disputes over federal authority, regional boundaries, resources, and political representation must be resolved through credible constitutional procedures rather than coercion.
Beyond these constitutional commitments, a pragmatic roadmap for Oromo ownership of Ethiopian nationalism requires several practical steps: protecting political pluralism within Oromo society, democratizing multinational federalism, establishing credible national dialogue, creating effective mechanisms for accountability, promoting an inclusive national historical narrative, and defining Progressive Patriotism institutionally.
It also requires a crucial conceptual separation: national unity must be separated from unconditional support for a government. Citizens should be able to oppose a prime minister, criticize the federal government, or demand constitutional change without being branded enemies of Ethiopia. Likewise, support for Oromo rights should not require unconditional loyalty to an Oromo political organization.
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The Future of Ethiopian Nationalism: A Shared Project
The most important question, ultimately, is not whether Oromo nationalism should disappear into Ethiopian nationalism or remain permanently opposed to it. It is whether both can be transformed through democratic institutions so that neither requires the political subordination of the other.
Jawar Mohammed’s Progressive Patriotism is an attempt to articulate a framework in which ethnic identity and shared national belonging can coexist. Its credibility depends on democratic institutions, constitutional protections, political pluralism, and an explicit rejection of coercive assimilation. Abiy Ahmed’s experience illustrates the dangers of attempting to build national cohesion by weakening the political forces and constitutional guarantees through which historically marginalized communities sought recognition.
The future of Ethiopian nationalism will depend on whether the country can build a political community in which unity is freely sustained rather than coercively imposed, ethnic identities are protected rather than demonized, and national citizenship is shared rather than monopolized.
Oromo nationalism’s most consequential contribution to Ethiopia may ultimately be its capacity to help transform Ethiopian nationalism from an inherited claim of state authority into a genuinely shared project of democratic citizenship. That is the promise of Progressive Patriotism. Whether it becomes a reality depends not on the eloquence of its advocates, but on the institutions through which it is enacted—and on the willingness of all Ethiopians, Oromo and non-Oromo alike, to engage in the difficult, patient work of democratic negotiation.
The question is no longer whether the Oromo belong to Ethiopia. The question is what kind of Ethiopia can belong equally to Oromos and all other citizens. The answer, if it comes, will not be found in slogans or in the shadow of a single leader. It will be found in the constitution, in the ballot box, and in the everyday practice of citizenship.
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Sultan Abda Neja, Ph.D., is a political analyst and author specializing in Ethiopian politics, federalism, and ethnonationalism. His work has appeared in Borkena and other outlets.
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The Pen and the Sword: Remembering Jaal Kumsaa Buraayyuu, a Titan of the Oromo Struggle
By Dhabessa Wakjira
In the long and arduous history of the Oromo people’s struggle for self-determination, the weapons of resistance have not only been rifles and guerrilla tactics; they have also been the pen, the novel, and the printing press. On July 15, 2025, the Oromo nation lost one of its most formidable intellectual warriors. Jaal Kumsaa Buraayyuu (Kumsa Burayu Balo)—a prominent nationalist, author, journalist, and political activist—passed away, leaving behind a monumental legacy that fundamentally shaped Oromo literature and political consciousness.
His life was a testament to the power of words in the face of state repression. From the rural heartlands of East Wallagga to the global stage of international exile, Kumsaa Buraayyuu dedicated his life to ensuring that the Oromo story was not just preserved, but weaponized for liberation.
Forging a Cultural Renaissance
Born in November 1969 in the Horro Guduru zone of East Wallagga, Oromia, Kumsaa grew up immersed in the rich oral traditions and cultural heritage of his people. This early exposure to indigenous knowledge would become the bedrock of his later work.
The 1990s were a pivotal time for Ethiopia. As the brutal Derg regime collapsed, Kumsaa Buraayyuu emerged as a pioneering voice in the Oromo cultural recovery movement. In 1993, he authored Suuraa Abdii (The Picture of Hope), one of the earliest and most influential novels written in Afaan Oromo. The novel was not just a work of fiction; it was a searing, critical examination of the oppressive realities of the Derg regime. For a people whose language and history had been systematically marginalized, Suuraa Abdii was a radical act of reclaiming identity.
Furthermore, Kumsaa was an early and fierce advocate for the expansion of Afaan Oromo literacy using the Qubee (Latin) script. Recognizing that a language is the lifeblood of a culture, he championed the written word as the primary vehicle for Oromo emancipation.
The Cost of Truth
Kumsaa’s literary brilliance was matched by his journalistic courage. In 1993, he co-founded the Madda Walaabuu publishing and advertisement organization, which became a vital hub for Oromo intellectual thought. He also served as an editor for early Oromo political and cultural magazines, most notably Odolee.
Through these platforms, Kumsaa provided a space for Oromo voices that the state wanted silenced. But speaking truth to power in Ethiopia carries a heavy price. Because of his relentless work and his advocacy for Oromo rights, Kumsaa faced severe political persecution and imprisonment under the incoming EPRDF regime. The state recognized what many already knew: his ideas were a threat to their centralized, hegemonic control.
Exile and the Unyielding Struggle
Faced with the impossibility of continuing his work safely within Ethiopia, Kumsaa was forced to flee in 1996. After a brief period in Djibouti, he resettled in Australia in 1997. Yet, for a true patriot, exile is not a retreat; it is merely a change of battleground.
From his new home in the Global South, Kumsaa Buraayyuu remained highly active in the political struggle. He joined the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF/ABO), dedicating his strategic mind to the cause. From 1998 to 2009, he served as a senior OLF official and led the OLF South Pacific branches, organizing and mobilizing the Oromo diaspora across Australia and New Zealand.
In an era where the Ethiopian government and its allies actively abused their influence in international media and institutions to demonize the Oromo people and their organizations, Kumsaa’s diplomatic and journalistic work in the Pacific region became an essential counter-narrative. He understood that the struggle for Oromia had to be fought simultaneously in the homeland and in the halls of international opinion.
A Legacy that Breathes
Jaal Kumsaa Buraayyuu was a bridge between the traditional oral historians of the past and the modern, globalized digital activists of the future. He understood that the Gadaa system, the ancient democratic governance model of the Oromo, was not just a relic of history, but a guiding philosophy for a better future—one rooted in human security, compromise, and consensus.
His passing on July 15, 2025, is a profound loss to the Oromo nation. He leaves behind a generation of writers, readers, and activists who were inspired by Suuraa Abdii and who learned the Qubee script through his advocacy.
Though Kumsaa Buraayyuu is gone, the “picture of hope” he painted through his life’s work remains. He proved that while the state can imprison the body, it can never imprison the Afaan Oromo language, nor the indomitable spirit of the people who speak it.
May his memory be a blessing, and may his legacy continue to fuel the fight for freedom, justice, and self-determination for generations of Oromos to come.
From Refugee Roots to Leadership: Louise Perry to Lead Victoria’s Multicultural Commission
By Dhabessa Wakjira
MELBOURNE – Victoria’s commitment to fostering an inclusive and harmonious society has found a steadfast champion. Multicultural and Multifaith Victoria (MMV) has announced that Ms. Louise Perry will continue her tenure as the Interim Multicultural Coordinator General.
While the title is long, the mission is deeply personal. For Perry, the role is not just a bureaucratic appointment, but a culmination of a life shaped by migration, resilience, and a profound dedication to human rights.
As a Burmese woman, a migrant, and the daughter of a refugee, Perry brings a unique duality to the position. She merges her lived experience with significant professional expertise across the public, development, and human rights sectors. It is this combination of personal insight and professional acumen that MMV leadership believes will be instrumental in driving the organization forward.
“Louise brings extensive experience across government, human rights, and international development, along with a lifelong commitment to strengthening inclusion and opportunity for diverse communities,” MMV said in a statement announcing her continued appointment.
Having traversed the complex landscapes of international development and public service, Perry is acutely aware of the challenges and opportunities facing Victoria’s diverse populace. Her career has been defined by a drive to ensure that systemic barriers are dismantled and that opportunity is accessible to all, regardless of background.
In her role as Interim Coordinator General, Perry is tasked with positioning MMV as a trusted, effective, and robust institution. She is passionate about ensuring the organization builds strong, meaningful partnerships across a wide spectrum of stakeholders—from grassroots community groups and government bodies to businesses and the broader Victorian public.
Her vision for MMV is one of active engagement and tangible results. By fostering these cross-sector alliances, Perry aims to deliver meaningful change, ensuring that the voices of multicultural and multifaith communities are not just heard, but are integral to the shaping of policy and public life in Victoria.
As she continues to lead the organization through its establishment phase, Perry stands as a testament to the very values MMV seeks to uphold: that diversity is a strength, and that leadership is often most powerful when informed by the journey of those who have lived it.
The Lion of Borana: Remembering Guyyoo Boruu Galmaa, the Abbaa Gadaa Who Defied Empires
By Dhabessa Wakjira
In the annals of Oromo history, there are leaders who govern, and then there are those who become the embodiment of a people’s resistance. Guyyoo Boruu Galmaa, who served as the Abbaa Gadaa of the Borana Oromo from 1944 to 1952, belongs unequivocally to the latter. He was not merely a custodian of the ancient Gadaa system; he was a shield against the encroaching empires of the 20th century—a man whose defiance of both Italian invaders and the Ethiopian imperial state preserved the soul of the Borana people.
His story, deeply intertwined with the fate of the sacred wells and the contested borders of Moyale, offers a masterclass in indigenous diplomacy and unyielding sovereignty.
A Legacy Born in the Shadow of Partition
The roots of Guyyoo Boruu’s leadership stretch back to a defining tragedy for the Borana nation. In 1907, the British and Ethiopian empires signed the Anglo-Ethiopian Boundary Agreement, a colonial decree that arbitrarily carved the Borana homeland in two, dividing the people of Moyale.
At that time, it was Boruu Galmaa Dooyyoo—the father of Guyyoo—who served as the Abbaa Gadaa. He was among the first to openly reject the treaty, recognizing it not as a legal boundary, but as an existential threat to the unity and sovereignty of the Borana. The son inherited the father’s fire.
In 1944, when Guyyoo Boruu Galmaa took the Baallii (the ritual transfer of power) and assumed the mantle of Abbaa Gadaa, he stepped into a region rife with external pressure. The Borana were not only facing the legacy of the 1907 partition but were also navigating the chaotic fallout of global wars and shifting imperial ambitions in the Horn of Africa.
Defying the Italian War Machine
Historical records reveal that Guyyoo Boruu’s leadership did not begin in 1944; his journey as a freedom fighter started much earlier. Between 1936 and 1945, he was actively leading the Borana Oromo in resistance against the Italian occupation.
When the Italians invaded, they brought not just armies, but a strategy of land seizure. As the historical account notes, the Italian forces attempted to annex vast tracts of Handaraa land, claiming everything except the sacred Arddaa and Tula (water wells). Guyyoo Boruu responded by building the Borana Gadaa structures and waging a relentless war against the Italians.
His struggle was not just about repelling a foreign army; it was about defending the sacred ecology of Borana life. The Tula wells were the lifeblood of the cattle and the people. Guyyoo Boruu understood that to lose the land was to lose the wells, and to lose the wells was to lose the Borana identity itself.
Standing Against the Imperial Crown
Following the defeat of the Italians, the Borana faced a new, more insidious threat: the expanding centralization of Emperor Haile Selassie’s government. Between 1947 and 1950, the imperial regime sought to impose its administrative and cultural dominance on the southern frontiers.
Guyyoo Boruu Galmaa became the primary obstacle to this encroachment. He did not merely resist the political pressures of the imperial state; he actively protected the Gadaa system, ensuring that traditional laws, democratic consensus, and indigenous governance continued to thrive despite the centralizing forces of Addis Ababa.
His defiance culminated in a moment of profound historical significance. In 1950, the Haile Selassie government, seeking to co-opt local leaders, offered Guyyoo Boruu the title of “Giraazmach”—a high-ranking imperial military and administrative honor.
He refused.
In rejecting the title, Guyyoo Boruu Galmaa made a definitive statement of Oromo autonomy. He rejected the legitimacy of an empire that had partitioned his people and threatened their customs. By turning his back on imperial honors, he affirmed that his authority came not from a distant emperor, but from the Gadaa, the Borana people, and the land itself.
The Enduring Wisdom of the Elders
The legacy of Guyyoo Boruu Galmaa is not confined to the history books; it is a living, breathing testament to the resilience of Oromo culture.
His life was meticulously documented by Western anthropologists who recognized the profound nature of the Borana political system. The renowned scholar Eike Haberland photographed him in 1952—the year he completed his term as Abbaa Gadaa. Decades later, in 1986, anthropologist Günther Schlee captured another historic moment: Guyyoo Boruu, then approximately 95 years old, was photographed at the Gumii Gaayyoo (the great assembly) as his son, Boruu Guyyoo Boruu, took the Baallii and assumed the leadership of the Gadaa.
That photograph, showing the aged father watching his son take the reins of power, is a powerful visual metaphor. It represents the unbroken chain of the Gadaa system—a system that Guyyoo Boruu fought to protect with weapons, diplomacy, and sheer moral courage.
A Beacon for the Present
As the Oromo people today face a renewed crisis of state violence, displacement, and the ongoing political capture of their sacred resources—including the Tuula Saglan Booranaa—the legacy of Guyyoo Boruu Galmaa serves as a vital beacon.
He stands as a reminder that Oromo sovereignty is ancient, sophisticated, and deeply rooted in a democratic culture that predates modern statehood. He proved that true leadership is not measured by the titles bestowed by empires, but by the courage to defend one’s people against them.
Nearly a century after he began his resistance, the spirit of Guyyoo Boruu Galmaa still echoes across the plains of Borana, flowing like the waters of the sacred wells he fought to protect: undivided, unbroken, and eternally free.
Photos: Guyyoo Boruu Galmaa, photographed by Eike Haberland (1952) and Günther Schlee (1986).
