A Historic Decision, A Heavy Responsibility
The Amhara region’s recent announcement that Ge’ez will be introduced as a subject in elementary schools has captured national attention. The move is bold and symbolic, touching upon Ethiopia’s deep past, its religious traditions, and its quest for modern identity. Ge’ez, the classical language of Ethiopia, is revered as one of the world’s oldest written languages. It was once the official language of the Axumite Empire, preserved today in the liturgy of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, and remains the linguistic root of Amharic and Tigrigna.
For many Ethiopians, this decision signals a revival of cultural pride—a way of reconnecting the younger generation with the nation’s glorious antiquity. Yet, as with all decisions involving heritage, language, and religion, it comes with heavy responsibility. Ethiopia is a country of more than eighty ethnic groups and multiple religions. Any attempt to elevate one cultural symbol risks being misunderstood, politicized, or even resisted. This is why the decision to teach Ge’ez has drawn both enthusiastic support and serious opposition, particularly from Muslim intellectuals who see it as one-sided and exclusionary.
This article attempts to weigh both sides: the promise and potential of reviving Ge’ez, the challenges of introducing it into modern classrooms, and the concerns of Ethiopia’s Muslim community. It also places the debate in a wider historical and global context, showing how other nations revived classical languages—and at what cost or benefit.
The Promise of Reviving Ge’ez
There is no doubt that Ge’ez is one of Ethiopia’s treasures, and introducing it in schools could bring important advantages. In a country struggling with ethnic divisions and political conflict, Ge’ez can serve as a unifying cultural symbol, connecting modern Ethiopians to the ancient Axumite civilization in the same way Latin connects Europeans to Rome or Hebrew links modern Israelis to biblical history. For many, it embodies continuity and resilience.
Its academic value is equally significant: as the root of Amharic and Tigrigna, Ethiopia’s two major Semitic languages, Ge’ez helps students better understand their own languages’ grammar and vocabulary, while also opening access to centuries of priceless manuscripts, religious texts, and historical chronicles.
On a global stage, reviving Ge’ez could elevate Ethiopia’s profile as custodian of one of the world’s oldest civilizations, much as Greece proudly celebrates its classical heritage.
Yet the idea is not without controversy. Critics warn that teaching Ge’ez risks burdening an already overstretched education system, where children must navigate mother tongues alongside Amharic and English. Adding another layer may confuse rather than enrich. Moreover, Ethiopia’s linguistic and religious diversity complicates the matter. For Oromos, Somalis, Afars, Sidamas, and others, Ge’ez is not part of their direct cultural memory, and its introduction could be read as privileging one heritage over others. Finally, political suspicion lingers: at a time of sharp national division, some fear the push for Ge’ez is less about genuine cultural revival than about political symbolism, a way for certain elites to assert dominance or to cloak the promotion of one religious tradition under the banner of heritage.
Opposition from Muslim Intellectuals: History and Concerns
Among the strongest critics of introducing Ge’ez in schools are Muslim intellectuals and community leaders, whose opposition draws on both historical memory and present realities. For many, Ge’ez is inseparable from the liturgy of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Teaching it in public schools, they argue, risks blurring the line between religion and state, a principle Ethiopia’s constitution takes pains to uphold. Just as teaching Latin in modern European schools without invoking Catholicism would be difficult, separating Ge’ez from its Orthodox heritage is nearly impossible.
Another source of discontent lies in the neglect of Ethiopia’s Islamic tradition within national curricula. The country is home to a vibrant and centuries-old Islamic heritage, with Harar—long celebrated as the “City of Saints”—standing as a global center of Islamic scholarship that produced poetry, law, and theology in Arabic and local languages. Regions such as Wollo, Bale, and Arsi have equally rich traditions of learning and cultural expression. Yet, these contributions remain largely absent from official education, leaving Muslim scholars to argue that elevating Ge’ez while ignoring Islamic intellectual traditions deepens an already lopsided historical narrative. They remind policymakers that Ethiopia’s past is not only the story of Axum and Lalibela, but also of Harar and the ancient mosques of Wollo.
Still, many Muslim intellectuals stress that their opposition is not to Ge’ez itself but to the lack of balance in its promotion. They call for equal recognition of Ethiopia’s dual heritage—Christian and Islamic. In practice, this could mean pairing Ge’ez instruction with Arabic, the language through which Ethiopia’s Islamic scholarship has been preserved. Only then, they argue, would the curriculum reflect the country’s dual heritage.
Lessons from Other Nations
Ethiopia is not the first country to grapple with reviving an ancient language. Looking beyond Ethiopia’s borders offers useful perspective. Latin, once the universal language of scholarship in Europe, is now taught only as a classical subject, with no serious attempt at revival. Hebrew in Israel stands as the rare success story: once a language of scripture, it was deliberately modernized and promoted into everyday use, though this came at the cost of marginalizing other Jewish languages like Yiddish and Ladino. In North Africa, efforts to elevate Arabic as a marker of postcolonial authenticity often sidelined Berber languages and generated fresh tensions over identity. These examples suggest that reviving a classical language can succeed—but only if done inclusively, practically, and with sensitivity to plural identities. Without that balance, the project risks fueling exclusion rather than fostering unity.
The Path Forward: Pride with Prudence
Ethiopia stands at a crossroads. Reviving Ge’ez has the potential to enrich the nation’s cultural and historical consciousness, but only if it is pursued with wisdom and sensitivity. That means engaging widely—consulting educators, parents, and religious leaders from both Christian and Muslim communities—to ensure the policy reflects collective ownership rather than imposition. It also requires balance: Ge’ez should not be elevated in isolation, but introduced alongside Arabic and other heritage languages so that Ethiopia’s pluralism is fully acknowledged.
Crucially, the effort must be framed as cultural enrichment rather than political symbolism, lest it become another tool of dominance in an already divided landscape. A prudent first step might be to begin with higher education, where students can choose to study Ge’ez as a cultural or linguistic subject, rather than overburdening young children who are already navigating multiple languages.
Conclusion: Heritage as a Bridge, Not a Barrier
Ethiopia is heir to one of the world’s richest cultural tapestries. Ge’ez, Arabic, Oromo, Somali, and dozens of other languages all form part of this mosaic. To elevate one while neglecting the others is to weaken the unity the nation seeks.
Reviving Ge’ez can indeed be a source of pride—but pride must walk hand in hand with prudence. Heritage should become a bridge, linking Axum to Harar, monasteries to madrasas, past to present, rather than a barrier that deepens division. The true measure of Ethiopia’s national wisdom will lie in crafting an educational policy that honors every thread in its cultural fabric.
Contributed by Teshome Berhanu Kemal
