This week, Addis Ababa played host to the second UN Food Systems Summit, which brought together over 3,000 participants representing governments, civil society, indigenous communities, youth, and the private sector to assess progress and renew commitments in the fight to secure global food security.
The Summit marked a milestone for the Ethiopian government, which over the past several years has embarked on a number of initiatives designed to improve access to food in the fifth most food-insecure country on earth, according to a recent UN report.
While these initiatives have been met with some success, experts like AshagrieZewdu (PhD), an associate professor of food science and nutrition at Addis Ababa University (AAU), observe there remains much work to be done.
Ashagrie is among Ethiopia’s foremost food experts. Over the span of his impressive career, Ashagrie has developed a patented method for preserving injera, conducted research on and advocated for the production of nutrient-rich edible mushrooms in Ethiopia, and managed a USD 1.1 million dairy quality and safety project under the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.
He has also served as chair of Procurement Endorsement Committee at the AAU College of Natural and Computational Sciences, and as an executive member of the Ethiopian Post Harvest Management Society and Ethiopia National CODEX. Ashagrie’s experience in developing food and nutrition policies and strategies under the Ministry of Agriculture and other government institutions gives him a unique perspective on Ethiopia’s ongoing battle with food insecurity.
The Reporter’s AshenafiEndale caught up with Ashagrie for his insights on the recent UN Summit, shifts in Ethiopia’s agricultural production and productivity, the burden of malnutrition, and the government’s efforts at securing food sovereignty. EXCERPTS:
The Reporter: How would you assess Ethiopia’s agricultural productivity in light of the country’s rapidly increasing population and its growing food demand?
Ashagrie Zewdu (PhD): It’s obvious—not just in Ethiopia but globally—that the pace of agricultural productivity is not keeping up with population growth. That’s why FAO recommends doubling global food production to feed the world’s seven to eight billion people. Ethiopia is no exception.
Honestly, we don’t even have an accurate population count. We see different figures: 120 million, 130 million, maybe more or less. I don’t know the exact number because it’s been about 20 years since we conducted a national census.
But I can tell you that our productivity is not keeping pace with the population increase. And we have to accept that countries can’t rely solely on agricultural productivity to feed their people. Agricultural land is limited. So, nations either need to import food or generate the income and resources necessary to buy it.
Even if we’re making efforts to improve productivity, if it’s not matching population growth, we face the same problem as the rest of the world. That’s why the FAO even recommends considering alternative food sources—including insects. In some communities, especially during the summer, people already consume them.
Societies are adaptive. When faced with food shortages, people come up with solutions. For example, in some areas they blend injera with cassava. In regions like Amhara and Tigray—where insect consumption wasn’t culturally common—people are now starting to explore Enset (false banana) cultivation. Human beings are capable of adapting. But still, we have a long way to go. This is a serious issue.
Where do you think Ethiopia stands in terms of food sovereignty and food security?
First, we need to define food security and food sovereignty. When we say food security, we are asking: Is it available? Is it produced? You might produce it within the country or import it, but still, the first thing is about availability. The next thing is accessibility. Not all of the population can access the product. This is where the government comes in and plays its role. And finally, the serious problem we are now facing is affordability—not just generally in the Ethiopian context but also globally. Food inflation, more than other commodities, has increased tremendously. So, to bring about food security, all these elements have to be met.
The government is trying to increase productivity so that food can be available. And to make it accessible, there are different initiatives we’ve seen. For example, school feeding programs, safety net programs, and others are trying to make things accessible. As a government, the challenge we are facing currently is affordability. The recent UN report shed light on price inflation globally, while income and wages aren’t increasing in Africa—and it is Africa that has been most affected.
And when it comes to food sovereignty, people think it’s about patriotism—but it isn’t like that. We are not a confined country or continent; we live in a world of globalization. That time has passed. We cannot close our doors and say, ‘I’m going to be sovereign.’ Whenever we talk about food sovereignty, people think it means producing everything on our own. It’s not like that. You bring fertilizers from other countries; there are commodities that you cannot produce. One way or another, the world is interlinked. We shouldn’t view it as patriotism.
Rather, the most important question is: how can we have the revenue or the resources to buy food easily? We need to be smart about what we can leverage, what we can sell to the world, and how we can generate the resources to buy what we need.
I remember China’s leaders once said, ‘If you have food, your heart is calm.’ So the worry in the world now is that people are seeing food security as sovereignty—will it be expensive? Will it be accessible? How can we get food easily? That is the question.
One way or another, I’ve seen that people are taking food sovereignty as national sovereignty. We need to differentiate between the two and have a clear stand. Sovereignty means we need to stand by ourselves—but that can be through different means, whether we produce it or import it. For instance, Singapore has advanced technology and a lot of industries but they don’t produce that much food. They import around 60 percent of their food from other countries. Yet, they have the capacity to replace their food—not by producing it, but rather by buying it. We need to be like that.
If we are saying that availability is a key component of food security, then in Ethiopia’s case—where food may be available but unaffordable to many—can we still claim that we have food security?
No, no, no. I don’t think anyone is saying that Ethiopia is food secure. Globally, Ethiopia is among the developing countries facing serious challenges. In terms of production, we still have a long way to go—partly due to insecurity, lack of access to fertilizers, and the fact that many areas remain uncovered.
Even if we produce significant amounts of certain crops—like wheat and others, as the government claims—those figures still don’t match the needs of our growing population. So even availability and productivity are mismatched. That’s why we must work hard and focus on improving productivity. If we can’t meet demand through domestic production, then we have to rely on imports.
But availability alone doesn’t mean food security. That’s why everyone is saying we need to do more. For me, the second key issue is accessibility, which I believe is still very difficult. Even if food is available, there’s still inequality—some people can access nutritious food, while others, especially the poor, are limited to basic staples like injera and bread. So we cannot say that food is truly accessible. And finally, affordability has become a major issue—not just in Ethiopia, but across the globe.
This week Ethiopia co-hosted the UN Food Systems Summit while UN reports highlighted the serious gaps in the country’s food security and nutrition. Do you see this as a genuine diplomatic achievement, or as Ethiopia’s success in terms of food security?
For me, it’s both. When it comes to food issues and summits like this, the most affected regions are Africa and Asia. So hosting the summit in Africa—with the support of the Prime Minister of Italy—I believe is appropriate. It’s not just about Ethiopia; it’s about Africa as a whole. While other parts of the world have seen some improvements in food security, Africa, and especially Ethiopia, still face major challenges.
So yes, hosting it in Africa makes sense. In fact, I’ve said before that the entire summit should have taken place in either Asia or Africa, because these are low- and middle-income regions where food security challenges are most severe.
Now, I recognize that the Ethiopian government has made efforts over the years, and some of these are encouraging. But the scale and speed of the food crisis are not matching the efforts made. That’s the reality.
I’ve actually written a blog about this. Hosting the Summit should be seen as an opportunity—not as a trophy. I’ve been watching national television closely over the past weeks, and as a food scientist, I’m genuinely glad to see that food has finally become a national priority. But the critical question is: will we keep discussing food as a top priority even after this summit ends? Or will we shift focus to something else?
As someone in this field, I believe food must remain at the center. Ethiopia has faced famine many times. So for me, this is a meaningful opportunity. And as a scientist, I always say: we are what we eat. Food is a basic need—it’s where everything begins.
Ethiopia has done a lot, and I’m happy with the level of discussion. But I do have one concern. Many government officials, scholars, and even my colleagues have been too focused on highlighting only the positive sides. The optimism is excessive. And this frustrates people. Not because they don’t appreciate what has been done—but because we’re all living in the current conditions. You don’t need a UN or FAO report to tell you what’s happening. People see it every single day.
This overly polished narrative needs to be toned down. If officials show humility or genuine compassion for the people’s struggles, the public will understand—because they are incredibly resilient and understanding. But when the official narrative doesn’t reflect reality, it creates a credibility gap. That’s my only recommendation: be realistic.
You are urging the government to be more realistic?
Yes, exactly. That’s what I’m saying. When I look at the discussions so far—even during the summit—important reports have emerged. But they’re not being reflected in the media or acknowledged by the government. Only the positive highlights are getting attention.
One way or another, we need to engage with those reports immediately after the summit and align ourselves with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) for 2030. Most of the indicators are off track—not just in Ethiopia, but globally. We’re not on course to achieve zero hunger, reduce stunting, or meet many of the targets.
That’s why the summit mattered. The global community has fallen behind on the SDGs, and out of the 17 goals, they chose to focus on food systems—to accelerate progress in this area, because food is the most essential element of any society.
Let us take a look at the impacts of food insecurity and malnutrition. What would you say are the consequences—particularly if we can quantify them—in terms of GDP loss, productivity, educational outcomes, and overall human development?
That’s why I always say, we are what we eat, because the development of a country depends on the growth of its citizens—starting from childhood. Take stunting, for instance. In Ethiopia, we started with a stunting rate of 58 percent about 20 to 25 years ago. Today, we’re still struggling with a rate of 39 percent. Now, if you look at it from a percentage perspective, it might seem like an improvement. But in absolute numbers, we’re still talking about around six million children under the age of five who are stunted.
Percentages can be misleading. Think about the population size 20 years ago versus now. The percentage may have declined, but in terms of real numbers, the burden remains the same. And these children—the ones stunted today—are supposed to become the next generation of leaders. That should worry us all.
In many parts of the world, stunting has dropped to around 23 or 24 percent. Wasting has also significantly declined. But here in Ethiopia, the numbers remain high. Iron deficiency has increased. Micronutrient deficiencies overall are still very serious.
Take dietary diversity, for example. Only one-third of children under five consume the minimum four food groups in a day. When you look at women of reproductive age, two-thirds don’t meet even the minimum dietary diversity. And let’s be honest—even in my own household, how often do we consume four or six different types of food in one day? It’s extremely difficult.
According to a recent report, eating a healthy diet costs about five USD per person per day. That’s around 500 Birr per day. Multiply that by 30 days, and you get 15,000 Birr a month. That’s the full salary of a professor or a doctor. So imagine—if that’s the cost for just one individual to eat healthily, how can they also support a family, pay for education, energy, water, and other needs? It’s simply not possible.
So yes, food insecurity leads to malnutrition, and malnutrition undermines everything else: education, productivity, health—it all becomes a chain reaction.
There have been initiatives to fortify food items—flour and edible oil, for example. Do you believe those efforts are enough to correct or improve nutritional deficiencies?
Honestly, that’s just a drop in the ocean. I’m not saying I’m against fortification. In fact, fortification is one of the recognized mechanisms to address micronutrient deficiencies. But before you fortify something, you must ensure that the basic food item—like flour or edible oil—is accessible, affordable, and available to the public.
The first question should be: is it even healthy or safe in the first place? Many companies or stakeholders push for fortification, and while their intentions are correct, we must ask: what are we fortifying, and how far will it reach? For example, how much of the population can you realistically cover with fortified flour produced by a company when most people consume homemade flour?
Salt fortification with iodine is more conventional, and people do still consume iodized salt. But even there, challenges remain. If you go to regions like Afar, Amhara, or Tigray, many people don’t have access to or awareness of processed iodized salt. So iodine deficiency remains very high in those areas.
So while fortification is appropriate, I urge all involved—including those selling premixes—to first ensure that the food itself is safe. Currently, premixes aren’t even produced in Ethiopia, though I know one company has recently started processing them locally.
But again, the priority must be the basics. Are we fortifying safe food? As a food scientist and food safety expert, I say: if it’s not safe, it’s not food—even if it’s fortified. So I support those investing in fortification, but safety must come first.
And here, the government of Ethiopia and relevant regulatory bodies must take the lead. If the oil isn’t safe, fortifying it won’t help. If the flour is contaminated or substandard, fortifying it just wastes resources.
So yes, fortification is one tool—but it’s not the only solution. We still need to focus on increasing productivity, improving access, and ensuring affordability. Once that foundation is in place, we can build on it by adding value through fortification.
Some proponents of genetically modified organisms (GMOs) argue that Ethiopia should begin adopting GMO products to address food insecurity. Do you think this could be a viable solution?
The topic of GMOs has always been controversial, and it remains so today. I understand the argument from a productivity standpoint. For instance, even without GMOs, if you compare an exotic or hybrid cow to a local breed, the productivity is significantly higher. But when it comes to factors like disease resistance, the context changes. So we need to approach this very carefully.
First, we must have a strong food safety regulatory system in place. And we must ensure that our biodiversity is not compromised in the process. I can’t give you a black-and-white answer—whether GMOs are good or bad—because it depends on the context. In some cases, GMOs may reduce the need for pesticides, especially where pests are difficult to manage with traditional methods. In that sense, they can be beneficial. But on the flip side, they also create dependency—on the companies that supply the seeds. That could place our farmers in a difficult position down the road.
The government must play a careful, proactive role. Initially, the official stance was that GMOs would be used only for non-food crops like cotton, for the textile industry. But now, I understand the government has approved GMO maize, and many farmers have begun growing it.
At this point, we’re in a situation where, as they say, ‘beggars can’t be choosers.’ We’re making decisions from a place of necessity. Still, even in such conditions, the government must consult scientific experts to negotiate better terms. We should not allow everything to enter the country unchecked. There needs to be thoughtful regulation.
A UN report released this week found that cash transfers to safety net beneficiaries may be contributing to rising food prices. How do you think the government can address this?
One of the things the Ethiopian government is doing—together with donor organizations—is providing cash support to food-insecure communities. But in my view, every member of society, including those with disabilities or disadvantages, should be given the opportunity to work. Like it says in the Bible: Anyone who wants to eat must work.
So I believe work-for-food is the better approach. Everyone can contribute in some way.
Take the school feeding program, for example. It’s one of the initiatives the government is most proud of. But in cities like Addis Ababa, there are families who can afford to feed their children themselves. They don’t necessarily need the free school meals.
Because of the stigma—people not wanting to separate low-income children from others—the government decided to feed everyone. But this has caused unintended inflation in food prices. When you’re providing food to children who don’t actually need the assistance, that affects the market.
That’s why I say: yes, the school feeding program is commendable. But applying it without any inclusion or exclusion criteria is unsustainable. I understand that the Addis Ababa administration is collecting high taxes—property taxes and more—to fund this program. But the cost of food has gone up, and I suspect they’re hesitant to revise the program for fear of political backlash.
Still, the government should differentiate beneficiaries based on income. I’ve even heard discussions about expanding the feeding program to include teachers and professionals. That’s not sustainable.
Also, the meals provided through the school feeding program, based on a study we conducted in Addis Ababa, lack dietary diversity. There’s no inclusion of animal-source foods like milk, eggs, or meat. It’s mostly staples—rice, injera, and water.
That has long-term consequences. Many parents, due to rising living expenses, have stopped preparing lunchboxes entirely. They’ve left everything to the government. But I’ve been advising parents informally: if your child goes to a government school and you can afford it, please include animal-source foods in their lunchbox. Otherwise, the risk of stunting remains high and learning outcomes will suffer.
So yes, I understand the government’s reluctance to alter the program, but as a professional, I believe even this flagship initiative needs to be evaluated critically. It should not be off-limits to scrutiny.
If agricultural productivity has indeed been increasing—as the government reports—and although you mentioned earlier that productivity is not keeping pace with population growth, why is it that many food commodities remain scarce and highly expensive in the domestic market? Are we exporting most of it? Why isn’t the supply side improving, and why aren’t prices coming down?
That’s exactly one of the points I’ve been raising in my recommendations. I even wrote a piece titled ‘Ethiopia: A Country Starving on the Back of Her Own Riches.’
Take edible oil, for example. In the past, we used to consume oils like niger seed oil and sesame locally. But now, due to the government’s export-oriented policies, we’re exporting our high-value sesame and niger seeds—and importing palm oil instead, which comes at a cost to public health.
I understand that the government has many competing priorities, but we need to be careful. If people are not healthy, the long-term cost in medical expenses will be far greater. So we need to strike a balance. Policy must prioritize citizens’ well-being.
Let’s talk about coffee. Coffee is more than just a commodity—it’s a central part of our culture. It calms people; it binds communities. But while the government celebrates coffee exports reaching two billion USD, people at home are now struggling to afford coffee. At the moment, it’s about 1,300 to 1,400 Birr per kilo. Yes, the export figures are impressive—but at what cost?
We must start separating the export market from the domestic market. We can’t strip the local shelves bare just to hit export targets. That’s why I’ve argued: don’t just look at the revenue—consider the societal values at stake.
This applies to wheat, too. We’ve been told that Ethiopia has produced large volumes of wheat. Yet even a State Minister admitted recently that the government doesn’t know where the wheat is going—much of it is being smuggled out of the country. That’s why people remain skeptical when they hear claims of bumper harvests.
Currently, a quintal of wheat is selling for around 2,600 Birr. There’s a serious disconnect between reported production and actual availability. As someone who studies injera production, I can also tell you that while local sellers have been banned from selling teff flour directly, there are exporters sending injera abroad as a value-added product.
In a country where people are paying up to 15,000 Birr per quintal of teff, exporting it—or injera made from it—should not be allowed. Even if it generates revenue, it harms local food security.
And let me be blunt: many of these injera exports weren’t even about real trade. It was a way to launder money. For example, when the exchange rate was 58 birr to the dollar, exporters could double their return by simply moving dollars in and out. So the government must be extremely cautious when it comes to its import-export strategy.
This is where journalists, consumer associations, and public advocates must step in. We need to hold the government accountable—not just for export earnings, but for ensuring food security and protecting local nutrition.
Consider meat. We export a lot of meat to Middle Eastern countries, but now a kilo of meat [beef] in the local market sells for 2,000 to 3,000 Birr. Again, this is an imbalance.
As the host of the UN Food Systems Summit, Ethiopia has a special obligation to ensure that healthy, culturally important foods are first available and accessible to its own citizens. Export is important, yes—but food security must come first.
