Outrage in Addis

Early this morning, the Ethiopian Federal High Court, under the guise of prosecuting acts of treason, decided on a course to continue the process of silencing Ethiopian voices calling for free, fair, and transparent elections. A dose of sulfuric acid has just seared through the arms of the torchbearers of Ethiopian democracy yet the silence of the international media (including that of the BBC’s that has attempted to keep Ethiopia’s authorities honest) is deafening.

We were not entirely surprised by the Easter Week High Court assault but we must admit that we harbored some hope that Ethiopia’s best minds relegated to Kaliti’s dungeons may have a courageous ally on the Federal bench. But hope, as Red warned, and as we frequently forget in EPRDF’s Ethiopia, “is a dangerous thing [that] can drive a man insane.”

So how did we all get here? How did Ethiopia’s voices of democracy end up facing treason charges by the very government that shed the blood of the innocent in the wake of the May 2005 elections?

For the EPRDF, the modus operandi was simple. It just took it right out of Peter Willem Botha's and Robert Mugabe's playbooks of power retention: you send high velocity bullets in the general direction of the heads and chests of the governed who demonstrate, drop them dead, then send your secret police frocked in garbs of the federal police to roam your cities and countryside to hoard the young by the thousands into your notorious detention centers. You do what governments who are not supported by their people have always done—you unleash your hounds of hell to excise hope from the hearts of the hopeful and you force in a frigid climate of fear in your country.

Then you turn a page in the Botha-Mugabe playbook. You cherry pick those who led the freedom movement and place them before un-judicious men cloaked in black robes and accuse them of a plethora of offenses found in Chapter One of the Pretoria-Harare codex: treason, inciting, organizing, or leading armed rebellion, obstruction of exercise of constitutional powers, and impairing the defensive powers of the state.

You then throw a monkey wrench in the playbook and charge them of a crime usually reserved for those in power—incitement to commit genocide. It doesn't end there—in interviews your primo ministro drops the "I" word—insurrection. But that wouldn't carry the imprimatur of legitimacy unless you throw into the mix foreign journalists and dissidents whom you charge with the catch-all crime of "outrages against the Constitution." We held our breaths for the added charges of Celibacy, Gluttony, and Sloth.

Then comes a drawn-out game of charades. You conduct false trials and present a parade of coerced witnesses, illegally obtained “confessions” and evidence that is circumstantial only to the deficiency of its prosecutors and judges. Trials are then started, adjourned, postponed, postponed, and postponed.

The irony in all this is that if the EPRDF's charges carried an iota of truth—had the detained leaders of the CUDP preached to their followers to violently dispose of the governmental order, millions would not have marched to the voting booths on May 15, 2005. The opposition gained the support of Ethiopians from all walks of life in the days leading up to the May elections by its ideas of hope. Not violence. Populist ideas have a way of drawing populations to embrace change and a peaceful future for their children. If the EPRDF’s charges were indeed true, the ruling party would have won a landslide victory unseen in the nation's short electoral history. But the Ethiopian Ministry of Justice’s charges are simply, as Amnesty International describes them, absurd.

So here's what the EPRDF expected the governed to do on May 15, 2005: ignore the opposition's legal, non-violent, and convincing call to the governed to vote the EPRDF out of office because it had failed to deliver sound policy in the agrarian, economic, monetary, and foreign policy realms.

The EPRDF knows if can never successfully convince Ethiopians that the opposition leaders are guilty of the charges extracted from the Botha-Mugabe playbook. It knows that its High Court edicts could never rewrite the May 2005 elections.

Then why is it going through these motions? Like the ZANU-PF the Ethiopian ruling party is bidding for time. Time to rule a few more years; time to realign its forces; time to entrench deeper into a society that is teetering between life and death, with a majority of its citizens who lead a life wondering where their next meal would come; time to overwhelm a nation with its sheer force; time to realign its wealthy and entrenched supporters and to close ranks by separating the weed from the chaff; time for another opportunity to redefine itself, to make a pitch to a nation of kind people for whom forgiveness is an endemic part of life.

But it ignores a powerful lesson in history that even though men are besieged by poverty and disease, the call to an end to tyranny can never be extinguished. The EPRDF is not prepared to heed this powerful lesson in history and today's decision should be viewed in that light.

A repressive government needs to count on the fear of its people to rule in perpetuity. What inspired millions of Ethiopians to follow Engineer Hailu Shawel, Dr. Berhanu Nega, Dr. Yacob Hailemariam, Professor Mesfin Woldemariam (and yes, Lidetu Ayalew) and others to the voting stations in 2005 was the absence of fear in the eyes of their leaders. Messengers of hope possess that peace of mind.

And for that, whatever happens in the EPRDF's "High" Court in 2007, our belief in the powerful ideals of democracy unleashed by the CUDP--the institution of a free press, an independent judiciary, and a representative government that draws its legitimacy only through the consent of the governed will never be extinguished.

Bertukan Mideksa: Let Freedom Ring

Image by permission (Ethio Zagol)

Every now and then individuals unjustly incarcerated by their governments create documents that leave enduring words of freedom for generations to come. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Letter from Birmingham Jail is one such document.

Birtukan Mideksa’s Second Letter from Kaliti addressed to U.S. Ambassador Vicki Huddleston is an enduring voice of freedom for all Ethiopians. An admirer of the great American jurist Oliver Wendell Holmes, Bertukan Mideksa’s yearning for an Ethiopian government of checks and balances, an independent judiciary, and a free media are lessons in tempered advocacy befitting a former judge of the Ethiopian Federal High Court.

Judge Bertukan’s disgust with the U.S. Ambassador’s duplicity, however, is a searing indictment of the neocon dilemma: support for governments that repress their people but are declared allies in the U.S.-led war against terrorism. Judge Birtukan’s epistle, like Martin Luther King’s, documents a leader's undying hope in America's ability to live up to its own promises of freedom and democracy.

[correction]

___________________

Open Letter To Ambassador Vicki Huddleston

Birtukan Mideksa, Kaliti Prison

(pdf version on the Kinijit site)

When I was a young law student who took myself too seriously but lacking compass, chart and rudder to grasp the dry bones of the subject matter I studied, I used to dash to the law library looking for a lighthouse to steer by. It was there, in the squalid and dump depot of books, that I met the quintessential American hero, Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes with all the breadth of his intellect and pithy wit. His classic letters and books were larger than the law. The great man inspired a belief in greatness, the existential necessity of thinking and acting under fire, the courage to change without being irreverent to tradition. I still remember some of his wise verses heartily. "Death plucks my ears and says live - I am coming," he said in one of his late speeches.

On the scorching morning of May 15 last year, Ethiopians who had lived like soldiers, who had seen the end of the story too often and knew that its only novelty was in its surprise, chose to live in hope. They gained a hearty confidence in the political system and patiently lined up to decide their destiny. The political space which was opened then wasn't as wide as some would want to make it. Yet Ethiopians nibbled off the precious little they were given. I was in one of those noisy line ups waiting my turn to vote. Behind me was a stout, elderly, intensely respectable-looking man. His eyes were filled with tears, his body shaking and quivering. That man had seen it all. But the experience of that day was new to him. There was also an extraordinary scene of a young woman, known in my village for take-life-easy attitude, helping the sick and elderly to vote. It was a profoundly moving moment. I found my truest peace and delight in the experience of the day. The magnitude of victory that my party subsequently achieved (or was prohibited from achieving) was secondary to the civic culture and hope Ethiopians displayed on May 15.

Political creeds are usually the rationalization of experiences. At Kinijit our positions in the international community-mediated negotiations and discussions with the government after the election controversy ensued were greatly affected by the experience of May 15 and the peaceful demonstration a week before. We couldn't let the hope of Ethiopians die. Madame Ambassador, that was what I told you when you congratulated us for canceling a scheduled public demonstration on our first meeting in mid September.

You were well-intentioned, business-like and graceful that day. I went home, checked your record and learnt that you were a great diplomat who had served your country for a number of years with distinction. And I thought you could be an honest and even-handed broker. We also let you in our Urgent Executive Committee meeting when we debated on whether or not we should cancel the stay home strike that was called for October 3. You had seen how the party functions; you had seen how democratic it was; you had seen how well-meaning and peaceful its leaders were. You had also witnessed the trust which was accorded to you. I wished you would have remained that - an honest and trustworthy broker. America had (and still has) a tremendous political capital in Ethiopia. Its values are cherished and the inner workings of the government, the checks and balances, the powerful judiciary, the media are all admired. On May 15 Ethiopians hoped to have the government of the people like Americans have for more than two centuries. They thought if your country intervenes in Ethiopia, it would do so on the side of the people. America is the only country whose formation was driven by ideals. "By the naked fact of existence, we are an eternal danger and an un-sleeping threat to every government that founds itself on anything but the will of the governed." So wrote Dr. Holmes.

Subsequent to our imprisonment, I found the one-handed position that you pushed and the statement you made quite disheartening. First, it was a call for our free, fair and speedy trial, knowing full well the circumstances of our arrest. Then it was a declaration that democracy was a process. What does a democratic process imply? Where is the free press in Ethiopia? Where is the right of assembly and demonstration? Where are the independent (even quasi-independent) political institutions that are the pillars of democracy? In Kantian terms, is a process merely the idea-of-process? The process as essence? Or is a process a fact? Something to be measured and tested?

You had also tried to assist the take over of the Addis Ababa City administration by Kinijit in spite of the unwillingness of a large number of elected councilors and the interest of Addis Ababans to get an all-encompassing political solution for the impasse. It was stomach-churning to hear that some city councilors were detained, tortured and intimidated to take over the council. If you had heard the stories and suffered no spiritual torment, I should re-check my books on American Constitution. Lately, your efforts were directed to a fervent championship for the creation of another Kinijit to continue the political process; a political process which would leave the people alienated. You and I know that there is not much in a name; and a long term solution for the country's political problem will only be furnished when the government starts an honest dialogue with all Ethiopian political forces, inside and outside of the country. Such a distinguished American diplomat as you are shouldn't facilitate the politics of alienation which has been the scourge of this ancient country.

Last week, I listened to your VOA interview in my cell (If there is one at kaliti). I was flattered that you compared our ordeals with that of one of our continent's greatest heroes, Nelson Mandela. What the comment impliedly suggested about the nature of our government was also telling. I was sad, however, that you seemed to take our deplorable situation as an acceptable state of things and suggest that we should be content in being requited by martyrdom. You should have concluded in the spirit of John Stuart Mill that humanity should mourn our situation "with sackcloth and ashes."

Madame Ambassador, the United States may favor order over justice in this region as long as the war on terror is on course. The pragmatic choice might be occasionally holding your nose when the government of the region's biggest power committed human rights abuses. But order wouldn't be served when the government turned into alienating and disfranchising a big chunk of its population. I haven't yet lost hope in your capacity to invest your country's political capital and help solve the political problem in Ethiopia

With great respect