Image Credit: The Conversation

For 1,600 years, the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church has been central to national life, tied to the state from Christianity’s 4th-century adoption until the 1974 revolution.

That revolution, led by the military junta known as the Derg, brought secularism, abolished the church’s official status, and confiscated its property, marking a sharp decline in its influence.

In recent years, however, the church has faced a new kind of challenge.

Since Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed took office in 2018, there has been a documented rise in verbal and physical attacks against Orthodox churches, monasteries, clergy, and worshippers, as reported by human rights groups, religious institutions, and international observers.

Political science researcher Dereje Melese Liyew, who specialises in peace and security and state-religion relations in the Horn of Africa, has explored the roots of this hostility.

His recent paper, based on interviews with church scholars, government officials, religious leaders, and peace and security experts, as well as focus group discussions with church members, argues that violence against religious communities does not begin with the destruction of buildings.

It is typically preceded by the systematic spread of hostile historical narratives.

Liyew’s findings indicate that these narratives, propagated by political elites, activists, and media figures, often focus selectively on the church’s historical role in seizing land and power in southern regions while downplaying or erasing its legacy as a pillar of Ethiopian literacy, architecture, and sovereignty.

By stripping the institution of its legitimacy, such stories can make attacks on its followers and property appear justifiable or even politically necessary.

This negative framing, which casts the church as a symbol of domination, exclusion, or ethnic privilege, has been circulating for five decades through political speeches, traditional media, and social media.

A key element of this portrayal links the church primarily to Amhara identity, drawing on the historical dominance of Amharic-speaking elites in the imperial state.

Critics brand the church as a symbol of historical Amhara hegemony rather than a multi-ethnic spiritual body.

Since the 1970s, and more prominently after 1991, the church has been depicted as an instrument of imperial state expansion and cultural domination, associated with the spread of Christianity, the Amharic language, and imperial political authority in newly incorporated areas.

Liyew argues that these portrayals, which distort or selectively interpret history, constitute a form of epistemic violence by marginalising the church’s contributions to Ethiopian society.

Dangerous labelling and violence

A second major finding from the research concerns the growing confluence of ethnic and religious identities in Ethiopia. The study highlights a tendency to identify Orthodox Christianity with specific ethnic groups rather than as a multi-ethnic religion.

This is politically significant because ethnicity has become a major part of political identity in the country, making the linking of religion to particular ethnic groups highly charged and potentially drawing religious institutions into wider identity and power struggles.

This dynamic was evident in 2023 when church bishops in the Oromia region sought greater use of Afaan Oromo in worship and called for more Oromo representation in church leadership.

These questions of language and ethnic representation became linked to disputes over church authority and regional politics, illustrating how religious institutions can become targets in conflicts that are not primarily about religion.

Religion, ethnicity and the state

Liyew’s study does not present the church as flawless. It acknowledges that the institution has its own complex power dynamics, including governance issues, leadership divisions, and internal conflicts over representation and authority.

However, the researcher argues that denying the church’s history, identity, and contributions has gone beyond rhetoric. The exclusion and marginalisation of the church can deepen social fragmentation and leave its adherents more vulnerable to discrimination and violence.

What needs to be done

The researcher concludes that stopping physical attacks is only part of the solution. There must also be a concerted effort to dismantle the narratives that conflict with the legitimacy, dignity, and history of specific communities.

Understanding the relationship between narratives and violence is crucial for prevention and for building a more inclusive and peaceful future for Ethiopia, a country where 98% of the population identifies as religious.


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Source: The Conversation


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Image Credit: The Conversation

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