Abadir M. Ibrahim (PhD) is the Associate Director of the Human Rights Program (HRP) at Harvard university, where he plays a key role in designing and managing academic initiatives, including speaker series, conferences, and various fellowship programs.
His career spans government administration, legal practice, activism, scholarship, and education. Before joining HRP, he served as Head of the Secretariat for Ethiopia’s Legal and Justice Affairs Advisory Council, an independent statutory body tasked with advising and providing technical support to the government on pro-democracy and human rights-based justice sector reforms.
As Head of the Secretariat, Abadir oversaw the planning and execution of the Advisory Council’s mandate while contributing his expertise to drafting legislation on civil society, anti-terrorism, transitional justice, National Human Rights Institutions (NHRIs), and legal practice regulation.
Throughout his career, Abadir has worked in various capacities within the human rights field. His academic and legal work has primarily focused on African countries—particularly Ethiopia—engaging extensively with the African human rights system.
Sisay Sahlu spoke with Abadir about the political, democratic, and overall national standing that the country is experiencing following the political change that took place in the country in 2018. EXCERPTS:
The Reporter: Many had high hopes for Ethiopia’s democratic and economic progress, but the reality seems to have fallen short. In your opinion, what is the most effective path forward for Ethiopia: prioritizing democratic development, focusing primarily on economic growth, or pursuing both in tandem?
Abadir M. Ibrahim (PhD): Conceptually, both ideas hold merit. However, the notion of choosing one over the other becomes flawed when it’s framed as an absolute necessity. In reality, both can be pursued in conjunction. From a conceptual standpoint, international human rights laws, particularly the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, clearly articulate this. It states that economic growth or the right to food should not require sacrificing freedom of speech or other human rights, as both are achievable. This is a false dichotomy. There’s no inherent reason why both cannot be accomplished simultaneously, unless one is being traded off to achieve something else.
I don’t see the validity of the idea that countries cannot develop without restricting rights. Whether rights are restricted or not is a matter of authoritarianism, not a necessary condition for growth. The premise that growth must precede rights is flawed. According to that logic, in China, where tremendous economic growth has occurred, making it the world’s second-largest economy, rights should have followed. However, they haven’t. This demonstrates the fallacy of that concept, particularly in China’s case.
Another example is that after Western nations achieved significant development, World War II erupted, with authoritarian leaders rising to power, leading to horrific human rights violations. Furthermore, Western colonial powers committed severe human rights abuses during the colonial era, even after they had established democratic systems. Therefore, this concept is not viable.
The change of government in Ethiopia triggered a series of significant events, including a sweeping reform agenda. As someone who has closely observed these reforms, how would you characterize the prevailing sense of hope at that time? And how do you remember the key moments of that period?
A key factor that generated significant hope was the decision to entrust the reforms, particularly the legal reforms, to independent professionals. The change itself was essentially a peaceful internal shift within the EPRDF, akin to a ‘palace coup’ or an ‘internal kitchen’ change. Therefore, when the new government pledged to establish democracy, involving independent experts was, in my belief, a crucial step in initiating the democratic transition.
A democratic transition is deemed to have begun when an authoritarian regime pledges to establish a democratic system and is widely believed by members of society and relevant stakeholders. Thus, it requires both a public commitment to transition a political change towards a democratic system, and secondly, to gain the general public’s trust.
A democratic transition is considered complete when an election is held, both winners and losers express acceptance, the electoral process enjoys broad consensus, and the election results, with winners and losers, are accepted by most. The EPRDF pledged to establish democracy upon coming to power in 1991. At that time, their words held credibility. However, as time passed and two election cycles went by, they lost that credibility. They claimed to be working towards establishing democracy, but no one believed them, especially after the 2005 election.
So, the very EPRDF, who had lost credibility in their pledges to build a democratic system, began to regain it through their unprecedented decision to involve independent bodies. The most significant factor was the legal reform process, where revisions and amendments to laws related to elections, media, human rights, civil organizations, anti-terrorism, and others were entrusted to independent entities. This marked the initiation of a credible transition process and, furthermore, contributed to the acceptance of the new reform government that emerged from that transition.
You played a pivotal role in leading the legal reform team when this new government took office. How would you characterize your contribution to those reforms? And reflecting on that period, what are your thoughts and feelings today?
At that time, I was hopeful, but I wasn’t overly optimistic that everything would go smoothly. I also had concerns. I followed the transition process with hope. The most critical issue was achieving a political settlement. This settlement should have been followed by a clear transitional plan. Ethiopia’s problem wasn’t a lack of good laws; the absence of a democratic system wasn’t due to poor legislation. There were crucial underlying issues preventing the democratic process from succeeding.
Furthermore, Ethiopia was in a state of government legitimacy and fragility. Therefore, the essential step was for both the ruling and opposition parties to come together, create a broad platform, and agree on the country’s direction. They needed to identify common ground and, through a wide-ranging and inclusive process, establish those points. Then, they needed to negotiate and reach agreements on the remaining points of disagreement.
Another crucial point is that before entering an electoral contest, they needed to agree on what was non-negotiable, what was open for competition, what issues to agree on, and what to defer. Proceeding to elections without such agreements risked a major disaster. Entering an election with armed groups present, particularly in the Oromia region where governance was severely challenged, would turn the election into a referendum, rather than a choice of leaders. The winning party would then have the power to define the country’s identity and future through a de facto constitutional referendum.
Therefore, if the election became a referendum, giving the winning party the power to determine the country’s fate, it would become a life-or-death matter for the competing parties. This would lead to a ‘win at all costs’ mentality, potentially triggering conflict. In divided societies like Ethiopia, this scenario is extremely dangerous. So, when I returned to Ethiopia, the country was in a political transition. I believed, and still believe, that this process needed to be carefully managed.
The other thing, given the numerous injustices and grievances, I felt transitional justice was essential. While transitional justice was crucial, and in conjunction with the points I mentioned earlier, neither area saw significant progress. There was a Reconciliation Commission, but after assessing the situation across the country, I concluded that little was being done. There were some federal-level activities and political maneuvers. However, considering the regional processes and the potential outcome of an election, it was clear there was no democratic consensus. Instead, there were political skirmishes, and no political transition plan was being developed or implemented by the government or other actors. It was evident that Ethiopia was not in a position to transition effectively, and the necessary work was not being done. During this assessment, I couldn’t confidently predict the political future.
Overall, the chances of achieving a successful democratic process were slim. The country was not addressing the fundamental, even minor, issues that needed to be resolved. However, the mere appearance of change provided a glimmer of hope. Yet, this hope was not something one could fully rely on, with absolute confidence that a positive outcome was certain. It was within this environment that I undertook the legal reform work. I believe this was essential, as addressing these critical matters before proceeding to elections would have significantly enhanced the integrity of the electoral process. I personally forwarded my call to the issue informally.
Furthermore, as a legal professional, I entered this process with the understanding that if I had the opportunity to participate in legal reform, the necessary work should be done. However, the legal reform suffered from a ‘cart before the horse’ problem. Had the horse preceded the cart, the election would have gone better. But because the cart came first, we entered the election without sufficient preparation and without completing the essential tasks. Due to the cart preceding the horse, and because the political agreement was not reached, we have arrived at our current situation.
How do you feel when you observe the current state of affairs in the country?
The current situation in the country is deeply disheartening. When the change occurred, I saw clear paths toward Ethiopia becoming a democratic nation. While achieving those steps wouldn’t automatically guarantee democracy, they were essential prerequisites. Now, that hope seems to have vanished. It’s not just disheartening; the situation has deteriorated even further. Ethiopia is on the verge of state collapse or rapidly heading in that direction. Instead of dreams of democracy, justice, and rights protection, all that remains are alarming threats and profound despair.
The initial reforms were met with significant optimism. Laws were amended, and competent officials were appointed to key institutions. However, we’re now seeing a reversal. In your view, where is the country headed?
If you ask where the country is heading from a human rights perspective, I believe there are two ways to answer. If you look solely at legal amendments, the successes of the legal reform have been halted or stopped. You could say that the improvement process fundamentally stalled around the time the Tigray war began. The legal reform is moving backward but not forward. For example, regarding the civil society organizations proclamation, after it was amended, there was a regressive movement through the issuance of directives. Leaving aside the practical implications, focusing on the law itself, we are now hearing that there are movements to amend the primary proclamation again.
In essence, no government undertakes legal reform willingly, especially when it involves granting or expanding rights. Governments take such legal measures not by choice, but when compelled. Because when a government grants rights to its people, it essentially relinquishes some of its own power or reduces its discretion. Put differently, expanding rights means curtailing the government’s reach. So, in the previous situation, the government didn’t concede those rights willingly; it was forced to. Public unrest and outcry pressured them.
Now, I don’t see any compelling force acting on the government. Therefore, I anticipate a process of it expanding its own powers and restricting rights. Seeing the erosion of the previous state of affairs is not surprising. The democratic transition has faltered, and authoritarianism has established its foundation. In an authoritarian system, there are essentially two choices: either have good laws and violate them in practice, thereby violating rights, or create laws to restrict rights. Therefore, the current trajectory is towards restriction.
Is it possible to say that we are now living under an authoritarian system?
Ethiopia has always been authoritarian. If anyone claims the other way, they should provide justified examples. Democracy isn’t merely the existence of elections; it’s when the people are presented with genuine choices and can freely select their preferred option. I have two primary criteria for evaluating elections. First, public participation. Second, a reliable indicator of a genuine election is the proportion of opposition members in parliament.
In Ethiopian history, the 2005 election was the closest to a truly democratic election. Despite its flaws, it had relatively high participation. It was the first and last election where the winning party didn’t secure the supermajority needed to amend the constitution. No democratic system is perfect. However, by any measure, the 2005 election was the best. Subsequent elections have been worse.
The second critical factor is the state of rights: freedom of speech, the ability to vote and stand for election, restrictions on political party participation, and whether party leaders were imprisoned or killed. Examining these factors reveals that Ethiopia has not had, and still does not have, any democratic elections. However, a democratic transition was initiated; that transition was interrupted midway. Therefore, anyone claiming that democracy exists should carefully examine the available evidence.
It’s often cited that the TPLF’s regional election was a primary catalyst for the northern Ethiopia conflict. Do you believe that the TPLF’s election was the actual cause of the war?
While the election might have served as an immediate trigger for the war, it cannot be considered the root cause. I don’t see how the election could be considered legal. There are established procedures for conducting regional elections. However, the core issue wasn’t primarily a legal one; both sides were at fault. In particular, I believe it was a mistake to frame the election process as a constitutional issue. The fundamental problem was the mismanagement of the transition process, the ‘cart before the horse’ situation, and the overall lack of proper governance during the transition.
The TPLF’s decision to hold an election and the federal government’s move to seek a constitutional interpretation from the House of Federation were not the underlying causes of the war. Rather, they were like pre-war provocations—the culmination of political disputes and crises that led to war. At that time, the Center for Advancement of Rights and Democracy (CARD) and the Center for Human Rights Advancement in Ethiopia submitted an amicus curiae brief to the House of Federation regarding the constitutional interpretation. One of our arguments was that this issue was not a simple matter of constitutional interpretation but a constitutional crisis that had been building for years and was leading to war.
Therefore, we argued that a political solution, not a legal interpretation, was needed. Our legal argument emphasized that they were heading towards war and that they needed to stop and engage in dialogue, rather than focusing on legal interpretations. We asserted that it was a political and constitutional crisis, not a legal one. This constitutional crisis had been ongoing in the country for decades. Therefore, resolving this long-standing issue required a political solution, not a debate over whether to hold an election. The primary reason for the escalation, as I said, was the ‘cart before the horse’ situation. The failure to properly execute the transition led to compounding errors, reaching a point of no return when the Tigray regional election occurred, resulting in a full-blown winners and losers political dynamic. A transitional plan was necessary to prevent these winners and loser’s situation.
A transitional dialogue was needed, but its absence led to a winners and losers political dynamic. The biggest problem during the transition, and something many overlooked, was the lack of trust among political actors—between the government and the opposition, and even within the opposition itself. During the transition, while there was distrust between the opposition and the EPRDF, there was trust within the EPRDF. It was this trust within the EPRDF that enabled the TPLF to concede power to Abiy following their electoral defeat. Instead of building on this trust and initiating a more inclusive process, they began to engage in internal conflicts.
I’m not saying one side was right and the other wrong; both were at fault. The opposition’s engagement in a winner and losers’ game, their attempts to collaborate with reformists within the EPRDF to defeat the TPLF, and their subsequent infighting, fueled by the belief that the government would attack the TPLF, exacerbated the situation. When the constitutional interpretation of the Tigray regional election occurred, it was too late. Therefore, it is incorrect to consider the election as the primary cause of the war.
The war ended with the Pretoria Agreement, and transitional justice is seen as the primary mechanism for ensuring accountability for crimes committed during the conflict. Eritrean soldiers have been accused of serious crimes in this war. If transitional justice is the chosen approach, how can accountability be ensured for Eritrean soldiers?
I don’t think we have sufficient reason or conditions for a detailed discussion about transitional justice, let alone specifically regarding Eritrean soldiers. For a thorough discussion on transitional justice, there needs to be a source or foundation for it, even if it’s not perfect. Previously, there was the Reconciliation Commission, which, while having more potential for improvement than the current initiatives, was ultimately closed without achieving anything due to its lack of progress. It seemed to have been established primarily for public relations, and it was clear there was no real intention to grant it meaningful authority.
The current approach to transitional justice is even weaker. At least when the Reconciliation Commission existed, there was a semblance of democratic transition. By definition, transitional justice is a legal framework designed to address human rights violations in post-conflict or post-authoritarian contexts where conventional justice mechanisms are inadequate. However, Ethiopia is still experiencing ongoing conflicts, with the potential for further escalation.
A regime that claims to be democratic while maintaining authoritarian practices and engaging in conflict cannot credibly pursue a transitional justice process. Without a genuine foundation for such a transition, any discussion on whether Eritrea should be included or how transitional justice could be improved would be misleading. Engaging in such a debate under the current conditions would be ethically problematic.
If you recall, the United Nations Human Rights Experts Group concluded in their report that the transitional justice process in Ethiopia was not designed to achieve meaningful justice. According to their findings, it was not a genuine effort to transition from conflict to peace or from authoritarianism to democracy. Instead, it was a strategy to obstruct justice and create the appearance of compliance for international audiences. The report described it as a superficial exercise meant to placate external observers rather than a sincere commitment to justice. It suggested that the government’s approach was primarily driven by self-preservation rather than a genuine pursuit of accountability.
If transitional justice is off the table, what other processes can deliver accountability?
The current situation is not conducive to accountability. The prevailing trend is the continuation of war and ongoing human rights violations. The primary question, therefore, is how to end the conflicts. There is a growing risk of state collapse. For instance, Somalia continued to exist as a recognized state despite lacking a functioning government. Ethiopia appears to be heading in a similar direction, and under such circumstances, achieving justice becomes impossible.
The priority must be to create conditions that halt conflicts, curb widespread human rights abuses, establish peace, and prevent state collapse. These foundational steps take precedence over pursuing justice through transitional mechanisms. Without stability, any attempt at justice would be ineffective. While it is possible that some individuals may be held accountable, a comprehensive nationwide transitional justice process seems unlikely. As time passes, the window of opportunity for meaningful justice narrows, while the risk of further deterioration increases.
In light of the debilitation of political parties and the media, and the closure of civil society organizations, what potential remains for the country?
I don’t have the answer for that. However, during the transition, I consistently advocated for dialogue before elections, emphasizing the need for a comprehensive transitional plan and broad consensus. However, that did not happen, and the country moved forward with elections. Now, it is simply too late. With ongoing conflict, even the idea of holding elections is a luxury.
