Introduction
Eritrea was declared a colony by Italy in January 1890 and remained a colony until 1941. Among other things, the colonisation of Eritrea by Italy brought modernisation to Eritrea, in clear contrast to Ethiopia, which was never colonised except for a short spell of five years. By 1941, British forces that were advancing from Sudan evicted Italy from Eritrea and Italy was made to renounce its title over Eritrea in February 1947 by the Treaty of Peace (Ghebre-Ab 1993, pp. 39–40). Pending the final disposal, the parties to the treaty agreed that the British occupying forces would continue to administer Eritrea, which marked the beginnings of the British Military Administration in Eritrea. The final disposal was left to be determined jointly by war-time allies – the governments of the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, United States of America and France – within one year of the coming into force of the treaty.
In a joint declaration, the four states agreed to deal with the final disposal of Eritrea and the appropriate adjustment of its borders in the light of the wishes and welfare of the inhabitants and the interests of peace and security, and taking into consideration the views of other governments, one of which was the Ethiopian government, which was quick to claim Eritrea in the wake of the departure of the Italians on the grounds of ethnic, historical and economic links. Ethiopia's argument was that she had stood as a country for approximately 3000 years and that Eritrea had been an integral part of the empire. The four states also agreed that in the case of disagreement between them, the affairs of the country will be referred to the General Assembly of the United Nations for recommendation, which they committed to accept and take appropriate steps to put into effect.
To facilitate their endeavours, both the UN General Assembly and the four states set up separate commissions of inquiry to explore the wishes of Eritreans. This consultation and the effort of the British administration provided Eritreans with their first opportunity to talk about their political fate and to foster democracy. The multi-ethnic and multi-faith nature of the Eritrean polity and the involvement of foreign interests (Italy and Ethiopia in particular) divided and polarised the Eritrean polity.
Two years after the setting up of the commissions, the UN General Assembly passed Resolution 390(V)A, by which Eritrea became ‘an autonomous unit federated with Ethiopia under the sovereignty of the Ethiopian Crown’ (United Nations 1950). Resolution 390(V)A consisted of 15 paragraphs: ‘the first seven paragraphs of the Resolution embodied what was termed the Federal Act. This Federal Act might rather be designated a fragmentary federal constitution’ (Schiller 1953, p. 377). The rest regulated the establishment of the federation.
As one of the main authorities of this time observed, the ‘terms of the resolution were commendably brief and simple, but, in being so, left much that should have been said unsaid’ (Trevaskis 1960, p. 114). Among the few things it said, it provided that the ‘Eritrean Government shall have legislative, executive and judicial powers in the field of domestic affairs’ ‘not vested in the Federal Government’ which had enumerated powers (Resolution 390(V)A, Paras. 2 and 3). Resolution 390(V)A also provided for developing a constitution for Eritrea, and to this end the General Assembly appointed a commissioner with legal advisers and supporting staff to draft that constitution.
To the delight of the UN and its agents in Eritrea and those who hoped the new international body would meet its objectives and expectations, the establishment of the federation took place on time on 15 September 1952 (Erlich 1981, p. 175). However, within 10 years, the federation was completely dismantled, resulting in the annexation of Eritrea – a development which witnessed the abrogation of the constitution of Eritrea. What happened in the period between1941 and 1961 is highly contested along three different narratives: (1) Eritrea's narrative, (2) the UN and the British narrative, and (3) Ethiopia's narrative.
More than 50 years later, the contestation with respect to the events of these years has not only continued unabated but a new revisionist discourse, discussed below, has emerged. Generally, one version from the Eritrean narrative holds that Eritrea, which had been fully developed into an Italian colony from the 1890s to 1941, deserved to be asked to freely determine its political future. However, Eritrea was unhappily federated with Ethiopia despite its inhabitants' desire for an independent state. The federation, so the argument goes, ‘failed to meet the demands of the majority of the Eritrean people; they wanted independence’ (Selassie 1989, p. 75). To make matters worse, Ethiopia reneged on Eritrea's autonomy by quickly dismantling the federal order to subjugate Eritreans to Ethiopian hegemony.
The UN and British narratives coalesce by arguing that everybody's interest was duly considered and the federation ‘was essentially a middle-of-the-road formula’ which at that time ‘appeared to be the best possible compromise’ (Cumming 1953b, pp. 18–24, United Nations 1996, United Nations and Boutros-Ghali 1996). The UN and British narrative accords with the Eritrean one in holding that Ethiopia abrogated the federation (United Nations 1996, pp. 13, 42).
However, the Ethiopian narrative emphasises historical links between parts of Eritrea and Ethiopia. This narrative asserts that the majority of Eritreans and Ethiopians were in favour of unconditional union with Ethiopia and it holds the majority of Eritreans responsible for the abrogation of the federation (Negash 1997, p. 144).
Ethiopia's gradual unilateral annexation of Eritrea took place in the second half of the 1950s in breach of the latter's status as ‘an autonomous unit federated with Ethiopia under the sovereignty of the Ethiopian Crown’ (UNGA Resolution 390(V)A). Most commentators argue that the majority of Eritreans did not welcome this move, though Negash (1997) holds a contrary view. The first to rise to arms were Muslims of the western lowlands of Eritrea, who, in 1961, launched the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF) (Selassie 1989, p. 48, Kibreab 2008, p. 152). By resorting to extreme force and repression, however, the Ethiopians lost the support of the other segment of the Eritrean population – highland-dwelling Coptic peasants, a significant number of whom were at one point in favour of unity with Ethiopia – and which motivated many to join the ELF (Erlich 1980, p. 178, Giorgis 1989). There, the newcomers, especially those seeking broader social and political change (Muslims and Christians alike), were not accommodated to their satisfaction (Kibreab 2008, pp. 152–153).
For this reason, a few years later, the ELF ruptured into many factions, one of which later became the Eritrean People's Liberation Front (EPLF) (Kibreab 2008, p. 169). The breakaway group was already in a civil war with ELF. Twenty years later, after a second eruption of civil war in 1980–81, the EPLF and its allies in the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF) drove the ELF out of Eritrea. Factions of the ELF now make up a considerable part of the opposition organisations in exile. Meanwhile, the EPLF amassed military power and liberated Eritrea in 1991. Since then, the EPLF (renamed the People's Front for Democracy and Justice – PFDJ – in 1994) alone has remained in power in the de facto single-party state of Eritrea.
Opportune moment for revision
The second decade of Eritrea's independence witnessed the worst form of repression in Africa. All the commitments that had been promised evaporated and an atmosphere of frustration ensconced the revolutionary regime, providing an opportune moment for revisionist discourse. In the last five years, Eritrea's opposition in cyberspace, mainly www.asmarino.com, has hosted a fierce revision of Eritrea's political and economic history. The front in power in Eritrea has been writing its own version of history. In light of this, the opposition in exile, with its roots in Eritrea's 30-year liberation struggle, has been, understandably, eager to tell its version.
However, the recent revision is not from the mainstream opposition, rather, it comprehensively dismisses the narratives of the two rival Eritrean liberation fronts – the EPLF/PFDJ and the ELF. It adopts ‘guilt parity’ between both sides for the sake of appearing fair (Younis 2009b). In brief, the revision, championed by Ghebrehiwet (2008b, 2008a) is generally known by the title of the first series – ‘Romanticizing ghedli’ (ghedli being struggle in one of Eritrea's languages) and calls on Eritreans to de-romanticise the 30-year liberation struggle.
Revisionist discourse and its value
In the context of criticism and society, Edward Said observed that the role of the intellectual is ‘to raise embarrassing questions, to confront orthodoxy and dogma’ and ‘to represent all those people and issues that are routinely forgotten or swept under the rug’ (1994, p. 9). However, for the intellectual to be relevant, he must not be seen to be a weird creature by fellow citizens, but should be regarded as a fellow human being capable of articulating their interests. As David Hume (quoted in Merrill 2005, p. 257) hinted, sometimes it is even ‘laudable to hide the truth from the populace’ as the value of truth is not intrinsic but dependent on the effect on others. It is vital to respond to the common good of the day. When the intellectual community is jubilant about its achievements, the intellectual is more likely to focus on the positive sides. When the common good needs hope and inspiration, it is up to the intellectual to deliver. In short, there is a time for positivity and a time for critical inquiry. Robotic objectivity may result in the social isolation of the intellectual.
The latter phenomenon is apparent in the literature on Eritrea's political history produced by Eritrean nationalists in the last 30 years. It is understandable why Connell's Against all odds came out in 1997 and why the same author has to say ‘enough’ in 2003; why Kibreab's Critical reflections on the Eritrean War of Independence appeared in 2008 and not before; why Ghebrehiwet's Romanticizing ghedli was not written in the 1990s in the era of romanticism, but in 2007 when a huge frustration against the deeds of ghedli had already accumulated; why questions pertaining to the value of Eritrea's independence were not asked in 1993 at the right time – the referendum – but in 2009. Now, Ghebrehiwet (2011) ponders the lack of scholarly curiosity in the past, but he was not always as strong a critic as he has been recently.
Initially, the revisionist discourse was welcomed, though with some objections and qualifications. Critics of the revisionist discourse such as (Younis 2009c) happily welcome the contributions of the revisionists for ‘crossing over to taboo land and removing the heavy makeup of the Revolution’. Younis (2009a) admits that ‘[a] nation needs its skeptics and eye-rollers to keep check on the natural tendency to think that it is exceptional’. Ghebrehiwet, the critics agreed, ‘deserves credit for the courage he showed to talk about certain taboos. For that, he impressed many people’ (Weldehaimanot 2009).
However, soon it was not just an issue of ‘just de-romanticizing Ghedli … but defacing it’ (Younis 2009b). Indeed, ‘in their zeal to de-romanticize the Eritrean Revolution and expose its excesses, the ghedli de-romanitizers de-emphasise all its great qualities – including the fact that without it, we would be talking about Eritrea only in the abstract’ (Younis 2009a). Weldehaimanot (2009) sees a ‘tendency of going too far’. Hidrat (2008) warns of ‘the peril of ignoring the success of Ghedli’. Idriss (2009) laments that Ghebrehiwet ‘goes for the throat’. Ghebrehiwet (2009b) himself has confessed that some readers are wondering what is it that he is trying to do with his latest article, where he questions whether Eritrean independence is worth all the sacrifice.
Contextualising the rubbishing campaign
Eritrea now finds itself in an unfortunate situation. Opposition to the initially highly popular EPLF has intensified in the last decade. More recently, about 10,000 Eritrean youths have congregated around Facebook under the banner of Eritrean Youths Solidarity for Change (EYSC). Many are demanding socio-economic and political changes at home. While the upheavals in northern Africa may be the catalyst for this unprecedented development, the initiators of the idea credit the simplicity of their objectives that include the immediate resignation of Isaias Afewerki’, Eritrea's dictatorial president. Indeed, dominant thinking among Eritreans seems to hold that Afewerki is the man who holds the key to the country's destiny. Younis (2009c), for example, attributes authoritarianism in Eritrea to the president. Undeniably, there is a contributory pre- and post-revolution culture which Younis (2008, 2011) acknowledges as an ‘authoritarian-accommodating culture’. For this reason, some civic Eritrean organisations (Eritrean Movement for Democracy and Human Rights 2006, pp. 26–40) have urged Eritreans to challenge their authoritarian-accommodating culture.
Contrary to the position that sees the problems in Eritrea as a result of the repressive regime, the revisionists are seeking to take advantage of the huge frustration among Eritreans. The discourse is not fresh but it now has a new twist to it. Those in the revisionist group – Ghebrehiwet and Negash amongst them – have been arguing that the problem with Eritrea is one of identity and that removal of the dictator is not a solution. This group has doubts about attributing everything that now ails Eritrea to President Afewerki and they reject the explanation of Eritrea's predicaments in the Orwellian trajectory of Animal farm.
To them, the solution is that Eritrea must rethink its relationship with Ethiopia, and the closer and stronger the union, the better. They recommend that for the opposition to play a constructive role, it has to rapidly begin a process of demystifying Eritrea and its inhabitants. The Eritrean opposition ought to begin the process of building a new future for Eritrea based on the links that unite it to its major neighbour, namely Ethiopia (Negash 2007, Medhanie 2009). A recent discussion paper issued by Menghistu (2011) captures the sentiments of this group.
No case can be made against peaceful neighbourliness and co-operation. In some cases, it is even wise for small countries to forfeit interests that they are entitled to as a matter of international law in exchange of peace. Even young Eritreans concede that the referendum on Eritrea's independence should have taken all foreseeable variables into consideration ‘as opposed to a mere complimentary and nationalistic discourse’ (Weldehaimanot 2009). Prophetically, Trevaskis (1960, p. 131) had argued that Ethiopia's ‘temptation to subject Eritrea firmly under her own control will always be great. Should she try to do so, she will risk Eritrean discontent and eventual revolt, which, with foreign sympathy and support, might well disrupt both Eritrea and Ethiopia herself.’
It is illuminating to look at this recent campaign of rubbishing. As Reid observed, ‘Eritrea has aroused strong feelings in most people who are acquainted with the country, both during its struggle for independence (1961–91) and since its achievement of that independence’ (2005, p. 469). Furthermore, Reid noted that ‘[t]hose who have observed Eritrea keenly over the last decade or so may be divided into two groups: those who feel deeply disappointed, and those who feel vindicated’ (ibid.). The first, according to Reid ‘includes those who believed that in the EPLF the new nation of the early and mid 1990s had a progressive, pragmatic and purposeful set of leaders, set apart – according to received wisdom – from much of Africa's political class in their modesty and clarity of vision’ (ibid.). These were the advocates of Voix Érythrée, to use Akinola's term (2007, p. 47).
However, it was not long that the joy and happiness of independence was transformed to disappointment and melancholy. Many Eritrean scholars and expatriates, whom Negash and others belittle as ‘intellectuals’, started raising their concerns. For example Connell (2003) has argued that enough is enough; Selassie (2011) and others who contributed to the 2000 Berlin letters wrote about a ‘wounded nation’ that has been ‘betrayed and its future compromised’. Kibreab (2009) described it as ‘a dream deferred’.
There are those who had doubts all along about Eritrea's independence, who now feel vindicated. According to Reid:
this eclectic congregation comprises those who had never been, at the very least, particularly impressed with the new nation of Eritrea, for one reason or another (Alemseged Abbay 1998; Henze 2000; Marcus 2002; Tekeste Negash 1997). For them, for example, it was obvious that the ‘feisty’ little country would in time become the ‘prickly’ and ‘bellicose’ one. Broadly, this group was, and is, ‘sympathetic’ to Ethiopia, which represents, in the Eritrean psyche, a dark, brooding presence in the background of our story throughout. Many members of this group believe that Eritrea should never have been given its independence – a sentiment often expressed in a way that suggests that it was in Ethiopia's gift to grant or deny it – or at least that the EPLF was a ‘bolshy’, aggressive and intransigent bunch of so-called ‘revolutionaries’, in whose image the nation-state would inevitably be made. (2005, pp. 469–470)
one of the most compelling factors behind the seemingly automatic hostility felt towards Eritrea after the achievement of its independence was that so many scholars and writers had spent large portions of their careers either studiously ignoring the ‘Eritrean revolution’ or actively arguing against it.
After Eritrea became a separate state, the last recourse for this group was to predict the country's demise (Reid 2005). Reid goes further in accusing them: ‘[t]hey are waiting still for the worst to transpire, but they have had much to encourage them in the meantime’ (Reid 2005, p. 470). Since Eritrea's dictator turned the country into what it is now, it has been a vindication. When the dictator goes further, it is an opportune moment to be exploited.
With those new revisionists, some would argue, the case is (1) frustration and (2) they have not been part of the events they mercilessly trash. Because they ‘haven't tried it’, so explains Younis (2009c), they ‘have no appreciation for it. Those who have never stood up to anything are always confounded by those who have.’ It is true, as Dorman (2005, p. 11) observed, that ‘[t]he penetration of state and nation-building projects into every sector of Eritrean life means that all social research is deeply politicised’. But, at the same time, those who are not penetrated are not necessarily objective.
There are several trademarks of the revisionist group. Unity with Ethiopia is all they want. Being territorially obsessed, they are also strongly against the ethnic-based current federal order of Ethiopia. They belong to an old school that, as Weller and Wolff (2005, p. 1) argued, looks at autonomy as ‘at best a highly unusual tool, or at worst a highly dangerous one’ ‘that a state would only employ at its own peril’. However, ‘in a 180-degree reversal of the previous position, autonomy was now considered as a possible tool in accommodating separatists without endangering the continued territorial integrity of an existing state’ (Weller and Wolff 2005, p. 2). Had Ethiopia not tampered with Eritrea's autonomy in the 1950s, there would have been no war to begin with. But equality was sought by subtraction (subjugating Eritrea) rather than addition (federalising the entire Ethiopia as practised now).
The size of the Tigrinya ethnic group in Eritrea is inflated to 60% or more to make a case for a close connection between Eritrea and Ethiopia (Negash and Tronvoll 2000, p. 7). Eritrean Muslims are downsized to 17.5% (Giorgis 1989, p. 73). They are not at ease with the Arab and Islamic elements of Eritrea's identity, knowing fully that it was this element of Eritrea that resisted union with Ethiopia. A good example is the excessively negative comments on asmarino.com to proposals for Arabic to be made the second official language of Eritrea.1 As Younis (2009c) summarises, they present Eritrea's struggle in an exaggeratedly negative or distorted light:
(1) that both Eritrean Muslims and Eritrean Christians were opposed to Eritrean partition in the 1940s because they each secretly wanted to dominate each other; (2) that the Eritrean founding fathers were not nationalists but motivated by religious grievances; (3) that the Eritrean revolution is responsible for more innocent Eritrean deaths than the Ethiopian occupation; (4) that the Eritrean revolution did not have sufficient justification to be waged; (5) that the jury is still out whether the Eritrean revolution met its objective because it didn't know what its objective was; (6) that the jury is still out whether the sacrifices that have been made so far are ‘worth’ the outcome.
Drawing on the sense of frustration, Ghebrehiwet's subgroup works to serve the young and the frustrated with a ‘toxic brew’ (Younis 2009b). Occasionally the water is tested on Facebook which allows some sort of balloting: what would you vote if you are given a second referendum on Eritrea? Or assertions are made to the effect that if given a second chance, Eritreans would go for unity with Ethiopia. This group has support mainly from anonymous bloggers who blog with multiple accounts with the aim of inflating their number.
There is another subgroup which follows a totally different approach but to the same end – flattering Eritreans with praises and compliments. This group alludes to Eritreans having held a significant and exaggerated role in Ethiopia's history; how Eritrea was a significant part of the Kingdom of Axum; how Eritreans bravely guarded Ethiopia's coastline; how sophisticated and advanced Eritreans had become under Italian colonialism; how to Ethiopian soldiers in the 1960s visiting Eritrea was akin to visiting Europe; how Eritreans could play a leading role in a reformed, democratic but unified Ethiopia; how autonomy less than full sovereignty was readily available in 1991, etc. (Giorgis 1989). It duly recognises the suffering of the Eritrean people and all the blame is attached to previous Ethiopian administrations. At the extreme, this group was even willing to let Eritrea's dictator, Isaias Afewerki, rule the entire Ethiopia in the hope that the throne would tempt the strongman to get Eritrea back (Gadi 2011). Afewerki was even awarded the Man of the Year honour by the Ethiopian Review.
A rejoinder
Claiming to correct history, the revisionist discourse has gone too far and a rejoinder is indeed warranted. For example, Ghebrehiwet (2011) has ultimately gone to the extent of disregarding all history books written by pro-Eritrea writers. Granted, scholarly biases cannot be denied but it seems that it is Ethiopia's history that is more full of myth than Eritrea's history (Reid 2001). In this context this article takes Negash's 2007 speech as the basis for a rejoinder. According to Negash (2007), the core of Eritrea's political, cultural and economic identity is based on colonial premises and these three premises are false. It is possible to rebut this assertion even based on the very authorities Negash recommends as objective.Figure 1.
Photo suggesting that publications by Eritreans on Eritrea's political history should be burnt as propaganda material. Source: http://asmarino.com/home?start=221
The truthfulness of the economic argument
Negash (2007) holds that the ‘first [false] premise stated that Eritrea had a more developed economic infrastructure than Ethiopia’ and ‘the forced union of Eritrea with Ethiopia turned a hitherto prosperous economy into a poor province/colony within the Ethiopian imperial framework’. The reading of economic history, Negash holds, motivated and justified the struggle for the independence of Eritrea; a view with which this article partially agrees. Negash (1997, p. 20) has advised that as ‘a person who combined a solid knowledge of history and anthropology’ and as the one who wrote ‘by far the best introductory text on the history of the region’, Longrigg's position on the disposal of Eritrea was sound. Yet, Longrigg contradicts Negash.
In disposing Italian East Africa, consideration of stability and the need to create ethnically homogeneous states influenced Longrigg – sound considerations accepted by many writers (Mutua 1995, Ratner 1996). Thus, he suggested partitioning Eritrea to Anglo-Egyptian Sudan and Abyssinia along racial lines. Hence, he drew the map of a homogeneous Tigrinya-speaking unit (see Figure 2). ‘This Greater Tigrai, with its capital Asmara and its Port Massawa’, Longrigg (1945a, p. 369) suggested, ‘should be handed to the Emperor to be an integral part of his Empire’. But this was a ‘tragic’ decision as he himself confessed in the same breath:
But the northern half of such a unit is highly developed: it has superb roads, a railway, airports, a European city as its capital, public services up to European standards and a population of whom many have notoriously sided with Italy against Ethiopia. Can it be handed, without reserve, to the sort of administration seen today elsewhere in Ethiopia? Scarcely; the loss in progress, the increase in human misery, would be too tragic. The Tigrai unit should, it is suggested, be administered, at least for a considerable term of years, on the Emperor's behalf and authority, by a European Power in alliance with him.
The map is assumed to have been included in the first published programme of the TPLF, also known as Manifesto-68. ‘68’ indicates the year the manifesto was published in the Ethiopian calendar (1976 in the Gregorian calendar). The manifesto was printed in Sudan (Berhe 2008, pp. 7, 196). Source: left, Tariku (n.d.); right, Longrigg (1945a, p. 368).
Independent Eritrea: the right decision
Surprisingly, Negash's group finds it hard to understand the fact that some Eritrean elites of the 1940s and 1950s opted for an independent Eritrea. If the British historian whom Negash recommends as the best saw the merger of Eritrea and Tigrai with the rest of Abyssinia as too grievous in terms of ‘the loss in progress’ and ‘the increase in human misery’, how come one has qualms with Eritrean elites of that time wanting to be a separate nation? Negash holds that ‘Eritreans were constantly reminded (not least through primary school textbooks) that they were far better off under Italian colonialism than under the yoke of the ‘uncivilised Ethiopian empire’. But it was not only the Italians, but also the British, including Longrigg. Ordinary Eritreans certainly have some pride in the modernity Italy brought about but to say there is an identity problem is pure exaggeration.
As Younis (2009c) noted, the ‘arguments Eritreans made for not joining Ethiopia are more sophisticated than the caricature’ the critics are drawing. Eritreans argued in terms of international law, morality and economics. One may suspect that the primary consideration of Eritrea's elites could have been power – one of the main reasons politicians rush to claim autonomy or secession. Yet, even based on economic calculus, advocating an independent Eritrea was the right move to retain the colonial legacy (however small) and, of course, to monopolise access to the Red Sea. Purely from consideration of Eritrean interests, this was and is the right decision. In a recent interview (Awate Team 2011), the Ethiopian prime minister indicated that Eritrea could get half a billion US dollars in a year from Ethiopia for port services. The prime minister further indicated that Ethiopia is growing rapidly economically and may be in need of another port along the Eritrean coast. One senses elements of political expediency in his statement but it is not off the mark.
This kind of calculus, as noted before, should have been part of the referendum. There are many things not yet known, such as the respective natural resource endowments of Eritrea and Ethiopia. In this situation, one can only take all unknown things as being equal – essentially Rawl's (1971) theory of the veil of ignorance. Further assuming good leadership in Eritrea and Ethiopia, it is arguable that it is beneficial for Eritreans to be independent and have a landlocked country of about 80 million people behind them. Even if Ethiopia becomes a perfect democracy ahead of Eritrea, Eritreans may still have economic interests in removing the dictatorship rather than becoming part of Ethiopia for the sake of avoiding authoritarian rule. After all, the claim that Ethiopia is already an irreversible democracy is far from the truth. Some pro-Ethiopia scholars have been very dishonest with the value of access to the Red Sea while it is apparent that the significance of the sea is behind their mania and the many unsound arguments they make.
Comparative studies of federal regimes show that had Eritrea been a federal unit of Ethiopia, port income would have been a federal income to be divided to all federal units (Watts 1996, pp. 119–122, Hannum and Lillich 1980). Whether or not the federal government in Ethiopia has been distributing half a billion US dollars even to the presumably preferred state of Tigrai is a matter of evidence. Second, Eritrea's independence means the resources of the Red Sea is now for four to five million people only; union with Ethiopia means resources are to be distributed to about 80 million citizens. Third, independent Eritrea has a political power in the region that it could use to secure its economic interests. In various forums, states carry one vote, small or big regardless. International personality is significant in other ways too. For example, almost all federal states prohibit their states from borrowing from international monetary institutions (Plekhanov and Singh 2006). Sovereign Eritrea can borrow at ease.
Multi-ethnic but manageable Eritrea
In addition to the economic argument, the claim that a small country is more manageable than a big one is empirically supported. It is a fairly easy proposition that ‘smaller countries are easier to govern than large ones because they tend to be less complex’ (Dahl and Tufte 1973, p. 40; see also Griffith 1956, p. 102). Many Eritreans such as Younis (2009c) rightly hold that ‘[t]he great secret about Eritrea is that it is probably one of the easiest states to govern’.
The most suitable system of governance for multi-ethnic states such as Eritrea and Ethiopia is a consociational democracy – a variant of federalism for small states that Eritrea seems to fit nicely. In terms of multi-ethnicities, for example, two separate elements are important: ‘(1) a balance, or an approximate equilibrium, among the segments, and (2) the presence of at least three different segments’ which, together, mean that all segments are minorities (Lijphart 1977, p. 56). This is a tricky proposition which, as much as it does set a lower limit, also imposes an upper limit. The reason is that while two segments may opt for majoritarian formula by tipping the 50 + 1 balance in their favour, on the other hand ‘cooperation among [ethnic] groups becomes more difficult as the number of groups increase’ (Dahl and Tufte 1973). According to Lijphart (1977, p. 56), the leading political scientist in the area, the ‘optimal number of segments therefore remains about three or four’.
In terms of population size of the country that fits consociational democracy, Lijphart tends to take 12 million as the upper limit (Lorwin 1971, p. 148). At least in the warfare era, a feeling of external threat which induces elites of small countries to unite to face a common enemy is considered as one of the favourable conditions for a consociational democracy (Lijphart 1977, pp. 65–75).
It is true that Longrigg, consistent with his position, did propose that rich or great Eritrea should not become a state but rather ‘disappear as a political unit completely from the map’ (1945b, p. vi). Historians such as Negash have been cherishing this position. Some of them conveniently ignore the fact that the same Longrigg (1945a, p. 367) also argued that ‘[t]he Ogaden should remain as part of Somalia; it is completely alien to Ethiopia, and was unhappy under its rule’. To his credit, Negash and Tronvoll (2000, p. 6) hold that ‘[f]or most of its history Ethiopia was made essentially of two closely related ethnic groups, the Tigreans/Tigrinya and the Amhara’.Figure 3.
Map (right) showing Abyssinia in 1891. Map (left) showing the same Abyssinia or Habesha core in red. Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Abyssinia1891map_excerpt2.jpg and Johar (2011) respectively.
If it is acceptable for Ethiopia to keep the Ogaden based on respect for colonial boundaries, why is that so difficult to appreciate that Eritrea is in the same position? In the 1970s Somalia took almost the entire Ogaden by force and Ethiopia's reaction was to fight to the last man. Giorgis (1989, p. 40) quotes Mengistu Hailemariam: ‘I think our responsibility is to keep fighting, no matter what the outcome. We will die fighting and even if we lose, the next generation will continue the struggle until victory.’
That was a fight to separate Somali brothers by a colonial boundary. In fact, Ethiopia under Mengistu even tried to resettle them somewhere else in Ethiopia because the Somali nomads were so oblivious of the boundary. If that was not a nihilist policy, how come Eritrea's struggle justified by economic considerations is nihilist? Put in other words, would Ethiopia allow the state of Tigrai or Afar to be part of Eritrea so that brothers will be in the same country? In fact, Abbay (1998, p. 1), another credible scholar from Negash's perspective, strongly argues that the Tigrayans, south of the Mereb River, and the highland Eritreans, north of the Mereb River, ‘are ethnically one people, tied by common history, political economy, myth, language and religion’. Researching at the time that the EPLF/TPLF friendship was at its peak, Abbay (1998, p. 151) came up with some empirical evidence showing that Tigrayans have a stronger affinity with their brothers north of the border than with the Amharas. This revived Longrigg's greater Tigrai argument. Thus Abbay (1997, see also Reid 2007) talks in terms of ‘trans-Mereb’ identity. It is apparent that greater-Ethiopia advocates such as Medhanie (2009, p. 90) do not like this.
Eritrea is not founded on myth
It has been asserted by greater-Ethiopia scholars that Eritrea's statehood is based on myth. But an exploration of the foundational documents of the Eritrean liberation movements does not suggest this. The ELF is based on the abrogation of the Federal Act – a question of law (Tagādlo hārnat Értrā 1977). In law, Eritrea had a strong case to be an independent state. Eritrea is a strong justifier of the founding principles of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) though this was not appreciated in the past (Selassie 1988). Below is what the Permanent Peoples' Tribunal ruled in 1980, and with which the International Commission of Jurists (1982) agreed:2
The Eritrean people do not constitute a national minority within a state. They have the characteristics of a people according to the law of the United Nations and the Universal Declaration … [of Human Rights]. In their quality as a people they have the right to live freely, and without prejudice to its national identity and culture, within the boundaries of their own territory as delimited during the colonial period up to 1950. The identity of the Eritrean people, determined, in particular, by its resistance to Italian colonialism was recognized by Resolution 390(V) of the General Assembly of the United Nations.
The right of the Eritrean people to self-determination does not therefore constitute a form of secession, and can today only be exercised by achieving independence; the will of the Eritrean people having been clearly demonstrated in this regard by the armed struggle which has been carried on by the liberation fronts for nearly 20 years. (Permanent Peoples' Tribunal 1982)
Even if one accepts that the federation was what Eritreans wanted, its abrogation was illegal as it was unamendable, even by unanimous agreement between Eritreans and Ethiopians (Meron and Pappas 1980, p. 211). The UN Commissioner on Eritrea who oversaw the transition observed in his final report that Resolution 390(V)A would remain an international instrument and that the United Nations General Assembly would be seized of the matter in the event of any violation of its provisions (United Nations 1996, Para. 19–20). Provision of the Federal Act, the UN Commissioner warned, ‘can in no way be modified by their incorporation in the Constitution of Eritrea’ (United Nations 1996, Para. 514). Similarly, ‘the federation [Eritrea and Ethiopia combined] certainly does not possess a unilateral power of decision as regards the application of these provisions’ (Para. 515). The provisions of the Federal Act were ‘therefore binding on Eritrea, Ethiopia and the Federation simultaneously’ (Para. 518).
Negash did not pay adequate attention to the rule of law in his discourses – that the Ethiopian government, in its dual capacity as the federal government was obligated to prevent abrogation of the federation even if Eritrean Christians wanted to dissolve it. It is not contested that it was Eritrean Christians who wanted unity with Ethiopia. However, this was not all of them, and not all the time. As a close observer of the events surrounding the establishment of the federation, Hussey had immediately recorded that ‘all sections of the people [of Eritrea] are beginning to take a pride in their nationhood and would not at present welcome a complete merger with Ethiopia’ (Hussey 1954, p. 322). Thus, neither not here nor in the accounts of Longrigg (1946, p. 126) – Negash's credible historian – was there overwhelming support for unity.
Contrary to this, to absolve Ethiopia of any wrongdoing, Negash (1997) went to the extent of asserting that it was Eritreans themselves that destroyed the federation, a position widely contradicted even by pro-Ethiopia writers. For example, Giorgis noted that ‘Haile Selassie set out at once to turn federalism into complete unification. He did nothing to ensure Eritrea's special status. Nobody in Ethiopia understood or cared to understand what federation meant; most simply thought it meant unification with Ethiopia’ (Giorgis 1989, p. 79). ‘Haile Selassie never even tried to take into consideration the special situation in Eritrea’ but ‘believed he could yank the entire province back into the feudal system’ (Giorgis 1989, pp. 79, 80).
As Connell (1997) observed, the ‘embryo of the EPLF's vision was expressed in ‘Our struggle and its goals’ – the famous or infamous Nhnan Elamanan. The manifesto may have exaggerated accusations against the ELF but when it comes to Eritrea's statehood it has no myth. It listed the ethnic, linguistic, cultural and religious diversity in Eritrea and argued that the variations in livelihood, ethnicity, language, geography and culture prevalent in Eritrea are present in Ethiopia and the Sudan. In fact, it argued that the diversity is more significant in the other two countries. Nor did Nhnan Elamanan exaggerate Eritrea's resource endowment to create the nation on myth of resource-abundance as some have claimed. Rather, it held that Eritrea is endowed with natural resources such as land, vegetation, animals, and minerals and can sustain itself.3 For this reason, the manifesto argued that it is not shameful nor something that threatens a unified Eritrea.
Rubbishing too much
According to Negash, the ‘second [false] premise closely interlinked with the first stressed that the Eritreans are superior (in terms of cultural and political sophistication) to other Ethiopians’. At one time this premise was not false as Longrigg has recorded. In addition, many Ethiopian scholars and politicians did admit this. For example, Giorgis argued that:
The Eritreans, with their 60-year exposure to Western government, were more sophisticated and politically advanced than the rest of Ethiopia. The Eritreans were a hard-working, meticulous people; their cities were like Italian cities. For the Ethiopian army, going to Eritrea was like going to Europe. The Eritreans had certain expectations: they voted on issues that affected them; they elected representatives; they had labour unions and political parties; they were used to airing their views. (1989, p. 80)
According to Negash, the third false premise ‘emphasized the invincibility of the EPLF’. He holds that it is the ‘failure of the Ethiopian army in 1988 [that] eventually led to the breakdown of authority within the Ethiopian armed forces’ not the military prowess of the EPLF. But Negash's project of discrediting the military prowess of the EPLF is adjudged by his peers, such as Reid (2000, p. 167), as ‘one final attempt by the author to rubbish both the concept and the reality of an independent Eritrea’. Negash asserts that ‘the Cold War played a very important role in the making of Eritrea’, and listed the Cubans, the Chinese, the Western world led by Margaret Thatcher, Ronald Reagan and regions in the Middle East as those who supported Eritrean liberation movements at different times. This assertion is not only exaggerated but also ignores the giant US and later Soviet military assistance to Ethiopia. Similarly, evaluating the situation in the 1940s, Negash mentions Italian financial support to pro-independence Eritreans but he omits to mention the financial support the unionists received from Ethiopia. As Reid (2000, p. 166, see also Markakis 1998, pp. 153–155) observes:
The Unionist Party is depicted as a well-oiled machine with popular support, a clear programme and talented leaders; the ‘separatist’ parties, however, including the Muslim League and the Liberal Progressive Party, are dismissed as virtually insignificant, with confused leadership and ‘internal contradictions’. But it is the contradictions in the narrative which are rather more apparent.
Adoring Ethiopia's victory; belittling Eritrea's side
With all due respect, Negash himself manifests a small-minded mentality in being overly indulgent of Ethiopia's military victory over Eritrea in the third round of the 1998–2000 border war. In Brothers at war (2000, pp. 75, 167), he, with Tronvoll, takes pleasure in Eritrea's defeat as ‘humiliating’. Reviewing A dream deferred, Negash (2010) again takes issue because he thought ‘Kibreab glosses over the impact of the humiliating peace agreement signed in Algiers in June 2000’. In the article under review, he states that ‘The Eritrean–Ethiopian war demonstrated once and for all that the invincibility of the EPLF was just a myth’. Indeed, Negash cherishes Eritrea's defeat but he fails to understand when Eritreans take pride in defeating Mengistu.
The manner in which Ethiopia defeated Italy at the battle of Adwa could also be regarded as a unique event. In fact, a huge Italian army which could have reversed the situation was delayed by a few days but Ethiopia was prepared to let the Eritrean highlands go (Longrigg 1945b). Ethiopians and pro-Ethiopia writers celebrate the battle of Adwa and invite all black Africans to take pride in the black warriors. In fact, they urge that ‘revisionist’ historiographers should not be ‘insensitive’ and ‘disrespectful of Ethiopia's historical achievements’, one of which is Ethiopia's victory at Adwa (Medhanie 2009, p. 133). So why is it that this feeling of invincibility is portrayed as part of an identity problem? Coming from a historian this is indeed surprising, because history is full of nations winning one war and losing the other, rising in pride and falling in disgrace.
Negash (2007) maintains that Eritrea is ‘unable to solve its conflict with Ethiopia, either by continued war or by negotiation’. Coming from a scholar who co-authored Brothers at war, this comment is also surprising. The border conflict is settled in accordance with guidelines enshrined in the Charter of the United Nations. The commission set to settle the dispute has finalised the matter demarcating the boundary virtually, and so legal and so precise is the virtual demarcation that even Google Maps has now uploaded it. On this issue, Eritrea remains in compliance with international law while Ethiopia is now occupying Eritrean territory (Weldehaimanot 2011).
At present, there is huge frustration among Eritreans with their new state. Close to 100,000 young Eritreans have already sought asylum in Ethiopia, and hundreds, if not thousands, are added every month. The regime in Eritrea has bankrupted its popular support, with significant economic effects. In addition, a 2009 Security-Council-imposed sanction (Resolution 1907) on military spending has invited Ethiopia to contemplate military action and recently Ethiopia bought 200 tanks (Martin 2011). The military preparations and the refusal to leave Eritrea's territory seem like provocations calculated to draw Asmara into a war that may reverse Eritrea's statehood. Because Asmara is so isolated and such a pariah internationally, it can not count on international support and invocation of international law should an invasion occur. In light of these facts, and as many Eritreans believe, Negash (2007) is right that the Eritrean government has ‘chosen the path that would certainly bring it to the dissolution of the country’ but it is this predicament that Negash's group cherishes. What is left is a claim that Eritrea is not viable and Eritreans cannot administer themselves. In fact, Negash (2007) has already stated it in overblown terms. He maintains that ‘the Eritrean diaspora all lack intellectual resources to think things through. There are virtually no Eritreans who could carry out a sustained analysis of Eritrea and its neighbors.’
Conclusion
Negash (2007) recommends that ‘[t]he Eritrean opposition ought to begin the process of building a new future for Eritrea based on the links that unite it to its major neighbor, namely Ethiopia’. This is not new. Indeed, too much is said about historical and ethnic links, ignoring the same links Ethiopia had with the rest of its neighbours. It is time to talk in terms of the rule of law of civilised nations. Thus, Eritrea's relationship with any nation should be governed by the principles of international law, particularly by the Charter of the United Nations and the Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Co-operation among States. Anything less would be a violation of international law and anything more must get the blessing of both peoples.
Notes on contributors
Simon Weldehaimanot has an LL.B. from the University of Asmara, an LL.M in human rights and democratisation from the University of Pretoria, and a JSD in international human rights law from Notre Dame Law School. He is an independent researcher and adjunct faculty at the Women's College, University of Denver. He can be contacted at sweldeha@nd.edu and simoxen2001@gmail.com
Semere Kesete has an LLB from the University of Asmara, and an MA in social justice and human rights from Arizona State University. Semere is a community organiser, political activist and analyst focusing on the Horn of Africa. He can be contacted at semere.kesete@gmail.com
