Ethiopia is an old society often confronted with new ideas and foreign values. As a result, social changes and modernisation were important contentious points especially in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Some wanted change and progress at the expense of indigenous values, specifically cultural and political independence, while others opted for a more cautious approach. Inasmuch as Ethiopia’s context was one in which the church and the state were accustomed to seeing themselves as two sides of the same coin, the discourse of modernisation had both a political and religious flavour to it. This article therefore aims to examine the volatile dynamics between religion (especially the Protestant churches of the ‘southern peripheries’) and the Marxist regime in modernising Ethiopia. Specifically, the article intends to explore how state-church relations transformed social thinking in Ethiopia. I begin by sketching the historical background and proceed to unravel the dilemma of modernisation. In the final part, I discuss how Protestantism contributed to modernising three aspects of social structure: the understanding of the human person, state-church relations and social organisation.
Let me start with a brief sketch of the historical setting. Ethiopia is one of the ancient nations of Africa, with long political and ecclesiastical traditions. The country was governed for over a millennium and a half by Christian monarchs of northern descent. The rulers, for the most part, claimed patrilineal descent from the biblical King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. The Ethiopian Orthodox Church (EOC) was a crucial part of the system since its introduction in the 4th century. In 1974, a Marxist regime known as the
Ethiopia has one of the most indigenised and change-resistant churches – the EOC. This church is a descendent of the Alexandrian tradition, even though along the way it managed to develop its own unique characteristics. As a powerful institution that, from early on, was promoted to the status of state religion, the EOC’s worldview permeated the political, social and cultural fabric of the nation (Binns
One of the ramifications of the impact of dualistic philosophy is that the spiritual is preferred over the material order. Spiritual holidays in which the believers are supposed to abstain from work (in a sense of engaging material reality) are multiplied. Those who violate the teaching of the church risk spiritual sanctions as well as social excommunication. Furthermore, the church provided theological justifications for a monarchical political culture (Abbink
Western missionaries began knocking on the Ethiopian door from the dawn of the 17th century. Notably, Peter Heyling, a Lutheran German missionary, arrived in Ethiopia in 1633. However, his desire to reform the EOC was effectively muffled. Slowly but surely, Scandinavian missionaries – such as the Swedish Evangelical Missions, which began in 1866 – started to enter Ethiopia. The then–Sudan Interior Mission, now known as Serving in Missions, came to Ethiopia in 1928. Later on, it was from these missionary movements that two prominent Protestant churches emerged – the Ethiopian Evangelical Church Mekane Yesus in 1959 and Qale Heywet in 1971. Denominationally, the former is an affiliate of the World Lutheran Federation while the latter has a Baptist accent with a decidedly Ethiopian colour.
Interestingly, missionaries began to come to Ethiopia during a time in which political leaders were showing more openness to modernisation. The constructive outcome of modernisation in the West tempted Ethiopian leaders to apply aspects of it on their soil. For instance, Zedingle and Suseneyos, between 1604 and 1632, showed interest in the European legal system, firearms and military discipline (Crummey
On the other hand, Ethiopian leaders were wary of both the cultural and political ramifications of reforming the EOC or introducing another form of Christianity. This was especially the case in the religious and political stronghold of the northern part of the country. For the political establishment, the EOC was an important ally that used to provide the state with theological justifications. As Tibebe aptly summarised it, the EOC was ‘a religion that embraces culture, politics, flag, identity and nationalism, all put in one package’ (ibid). Therefore, the church being exposed to be ‘reformed’ using foreign elements was tantamount to endangering almost everything about Ethiopian identity. For missionaries, on the other hand, it was clear from their own history that reformation comes before modernisation.
One can surmise from this, therefore, that the modernisation undercurrents between the Protestant Church and the state can be characterised by tension between cultural conservatism and socio-economic betterment. While on the one hand stubbornly – at times for good reasons – defending Ethiopian culture, values and the religion of the EOC, Ethiopian emperors were keen on modernisation. On the other hand, though their primary purpose for coming to Ethiopia was not to repeat the Western scientific success story in an African land, Protestant missionaries from the West had no option but to revise their direct evangelistic and reformist approach to Ethiopia. These conflicting interests – the urgent need for modernisation and protecting the national identity – led Emperor Haile Selassie to issue a decree in 1947. His approach on the decree was to divide Ethiopia into two: closed areas and open areas. Closed areas were ‘the Ethiopian church areas’, where missionaries were prohibited from operating, whereas the open areas were in south-eastern Ethiopia where missionaries were allowed to teach their own version of Christianity (Binns
Western missionaries were diverted from the northern stronghold of the EOC to the southern peripheries of Ethiopia, because these were considered ‘pagan’ and ‘uncivilised’. Western missionaries were welcomed with less suspicion and more enthusiasm on the new frontier. Moreover, they amassed converts to Protestantism from the EOC as well as traditional religions. These ‘peripheries’ are arguably still dominated by Protestantism.
In the overall discourse of modernisation, Ethiopia stands on ambivalent ground. This partially has to do with the way modernisation is defined. In the late 1960s, Cyril Black, whose work was praised by some as a ‘more graduated appraisal of modernisation’, ranked Ethiopia fifth on his scale of seven patterns of modernisation – above all African countries and on equal footing with Japan, Russia, China, Iran, Turkey and so on (Black
What these societies have in common is … that their traditional governments were sufficiently effective, because of long experience with centralized bureaucratic government, to enable them to resist direct and comprehensive foreign rule for a prolonged period in modern times. (pp. 119–120)
Added to this were its own unique architecture, writing system and social organisations. However, despite Black’s optimist exposé, it is apparent that the progress of modernisation was aborted at some stage. What was the reason for aborted modernisation? Where is the starting point that begins to unleash the potential of modernisation, of which signs were shown in the past? Such questions seem to shed a light on the apparent tension between cultural and religious conservatism, on the one hand, and the need for progress, on the other.
To shed more light on the problems involved in modernising Ethiopia, let me discuss the approaches of Afework Gebre Yesus and Gebre-Hiwot Baykedagn – early 20th-century Ethiopian intellectuals. As committed nationalists, both wanted a version of modernisation that would not upset the Ethiopian way of life. In the meantime, both had the concern that Ethiopia might not find the resources for modernisation within itself. The problem both faced was this: How is it possible to modernise Ethiopia through external resources while keeping Ethiopian religious, cultural and social values?
An Italian- and Swiss-educated linguist who served Haile Selassie’s regime as a diplomat, Afework was clearly frustrated by Ethiopia’s ‘backwardness’. Even though he was an ardent admirer of Ethiopian history and values, he believed the ruling class was not able to deliver the necessary reform to put Ethiopia back on track. He put his faith in the civilising mission of colonisers and pushed for forging a strong political alliance with Italy, which he regarded as modern and thus highly advanced. Yet he was aware of the fact that the principal intention behind the Italian occupation was not restoring Ethiopia back to its glory. Still, he thought modernisation was worth such a risky gamble. According to Afework, for modernisation to succeed and bring about an end to economic deprivation, Ethiopians had to be willing to temporarily sacrifice their pride in their cultural and political independence (Gebreyesus
The plot of this novel is similar to the one in
The first advantage lay in the very nature of modernity itself. As Bahru aptly interpreted:
if Italy took over Ethiopia, civilised it and made it prosperous, the day will then come when the civilised Ethiopians, having become civilised, strong and prosperous, will free themselves from Italy, just as the United States did with England. (Zewde
The underlying philosophical makeup of this move is unorthodox and intriguing in that it is a strategy of gaining by losing. Modernisation brings about a state of affairs by which people would become enlightened. In a typical American fashion, he counted on the Enlightenment to bring about not only prosperity but also independence from foreign power. This, in his conviction, would play in favour of Ethiopians in terms of restoring Ethiopia to its glorious past. In his understanding, modernism by its very nature was a package of liberty and prosperity, and therefore it did not sit well with repression.
Secondly, Afework reminded his readers of the fact that Ethiopia had a spiritual secret weapon: a divine covenant. He went on to construct this ideological formula from a deliberate allegorisation of the myth of the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon to explain the possible outworking of the Ethio-Italian relationship. Nowhere is this more illuminating than in Kebede’s observation of Afework’s poem in his novel,
Just as King Solomon was seduced by the beauty of Makeda, as the result of which Ethiopia became the elect of God, Europeans might too be bound for the same purpose of promoting Ethiopia. In this sense,
His approach was risky. In fact, he was accused of committing a treasonous act. However, Afework’s approach and underlying assumptions were hermeneutically shrewd. I contend his interpretation of Ethiopian culture and political context was warranted. The source of Ethiopian backwardness was a lack of educated and skilled force. Ethiopia’s inability to join the global narrative of modernisation laid bare the fact that the pride of political and cultural independence was hollow. There is merit, as well, in the way he understood the European powers. The reason is that this was not a time when a European country would lend a helping hand to an African nation. In fact, during his time Europeans were racing against each other to exploit as many resources as possible from hapless African countries.
Therefore, firstly, he suggested that welcoming the Europeans would facilitate a learning opportunity for Ethiopia to tackle economic stagnation. Nevertheless, in a typically appealing manner to the conservative elites, he suggested that foreign occupation should be approached with serious scrutiny. He then offered suspicion and domestication as techniques of exorcising the unwanted elements of Western values while ‘Ethiopianising’ the functional part of foreign inventions. Secondly, after carefully indicating the pros and cons of the situation surrounding modernisation, he (re-)established Ethiopia as a nation of the covenant and guardian of Christianity. It was important to maintain this, because Ethiopian covenant thinking was a popular belief that Ethiopia would experience divine blessings because of the inherited Solomonic bloodline, hosting the Ark of the Covenant and accepting Christianity. This narrative was originally propelled by
This deliberate allegorisation seems to have had two purposes. First, it reaffirmed that the covenant – the popular belief that Ethiopia has a special promise from God – as a pillar of Ethiopian identity, was sacrosanct and non-negotiable. Ideally, Ethiopian exceptionalism was not something to trade for material gain. Secondly, joining the global metanarrative of modernisation was crucial in terms of averting ‘backwardness’. Instead of polarising Ethiopians between the two seemingly irreconcilable thoughts, Afework chose to take the arduous task of showing that covenant thinking and modernisation were not mutually incompatible. Simply put, the covenant presupposed the greatness of Ethiopia and modernisation and intellectual advancement were crucial tools of realising this ‘greatness’.
Now the question is: What about the colonial agenda of dominating and exploiting Ethiopia? Afework contended that the nature of modernisation was intrinsically incompatible with domination. This is because being modernised means being empowered. Nevertheless, despite its promise of reversing backwardness, Afework seemed to understand that using the Ethio-Italian colonial relationship for the purpose of modernisation would be a treacherous process. Even so, he strongly believed that such a risk could be mitigated by the power of
Understandably, Afework’s theory of modernisation generated mixed reactions. Some accused him of crossing the ‘threshold of treason’ for intending to welcome the European invaders. Others considered him as patriotic as the people who fought against the Italian occupation and the only difference was that he applied a different (and riskier) tactic.
To avoid the danger of flirting with colonial powers, some Ethiopian intellectuals of the early 20th century tried to fashion Ethiopian modernisation after another advanced country – Japan. The most famous of these ‘Japanisers’ was Gebre-Hiwot Baykedagn, a German-educated diplomat praised as ‘the most celebrated of the early 20th century Ethiopian intellectuals’ (Zewde
But by what approach did Gebre-Hiwot propose to replace what he saw as an outdated ‘conservatism’ with fluid progress? Education, as Messay points out, was ‘the keynote of his program of reform’ (Kebede
Gebre-Hiwot then moved on to proposing a form of governance that would accelerate the Ethiopian modernisation process: ‘[
It is clear that the argument for modernisation as postulated by Afework and Gibre-Hiwot was ambitious as well as problematic. First, Afework’s suggestion that temporary colonisation by Italy might bring about the much-needed social and economic reform was risky if not outright dangerous. The consequences of political and military occupation would have been detrimental to Ethiopian society. This is because the ‘civilising mission’ of colonists would not have worked, precisely because their real intentions were exploitation. Secondly, comparison with the relationship between England as coloniser and the United States as a colony that achieved independence was ill-suited to the Ethiopian situation, because most American and English citizens shared a much more similar value system compared to that of Italy and Ethiopia.
Gibre-Hiwot’s proposal to apply the Japanese model had its own pitfalls, especially because he deemed an autocratic government necessary for Ethiopia’s modernisation. Government can indeed stimulate and achieve modernisation in the realm of economics and technology. The story of Malaysia and China supports this line argument. Yet this option was equally flawed because a version of modernisation that does not fully account for basic human rights leaves some of the fundamental areas of development unaddressed. Both Afework and Gibre-Hiwot opted to combine modernisation with maintaining cultural identity based on Ethiopian exceptionalism. However, it was evident from their proposals that modernisation could not find its origin within Ethiopian culture and religiosity. In their perception it was something that rather needed to come from the outside. Even though their diagnosis of the Ethiopian problem was plausible, their inability and lack of imagination to come up with a home-grown remedy reduced their dreams of meaningful fulfilment.
From Afework and Gibre-Hiwot’s analysis, we can deduce that the real hindrance for modernisation lay within the existing political and religious paradigm. This came with a cultural and religious conundrum needing to be resolved. As a result, they could not overcome the conservative system that was ingrained in Ethiopian cultural identity and yet stifled the efforts to change and frustrated its agents. This was the context in which the Protestant Church was born.
In what follows, I aim to demonstrate how Protestantism contributed to the modernisation of three areas in the society: the conception of the human person, the church-state relationship and social organisation.
This starts with the introduction of the notion of ‘accepting Jesus Christ as the personal saviour’. This is a major break from the traditional way of understanding the human person, because in both indigenous religions and EOC contexts religious decisions are communal rather than individual. While the EOC tends to understand the human person as a part of the Christian communion, indigenous communities cannot conceive of a person outside the ethnic and religious umbrella. This is because there is hardly any place for the individual in their social philosophy. In fact, in both, individuality is considered a social anomaly often generating excommunication and even persecution. This, for Protestants, is a very crucial departure because their teaching puts a particular emphasis on conversion and personal responsibility. It is considered that faith is a personal matter and so is accountability before God for one’s decision. Christ himself is designated as
In the meantime, the Ethiopian Protestant churches experienced exponential growth during the Marxist regime, also known as the
The emergence of Protestantism recalibrated the conception of a human person. Freedom and the will to make a highly important individual decision – specifically, changing one’s religion – became a major point of contention. This meant that the social structure as understood in traditional society could not be sustained. People were judged by their individual character more than by their ethnic or political allegiance. In fact, because of new understandings of a human person, people who were on the social margins were attracted to Protestant churches, the reason being that it created a space in which they could command equal respect (Yoshida
For Protestant churches, the general posturing of the Marxist regime had some resonance. Because of the anticipatory attitude that Western (missionary) teaching created, ‘Protestants saw the revolution as progress toward a distinctly new and hopeful future’ (Donham
Another important metaphor was the notion of
His message captured the fact that the Christian struggle by no means was limited to the numinous cosmic struggle between good and evil. It had its feet in the daily social and political experience of believers. This new standing assumed two oppositions: a backlash from the traditional religious system and the Marxist regime that was keen on reconfiguring the socio-political system. The traditional religious system had its own socio-political and economic structure, and failure to comply with religious demands could come at a cost because of the consequences to social harmony. At the very least, it limited the sphere of activity for believers. On the political front, the believers in the southern peripheries had fresh memories of a long history of inter-ethnic tension, slavery and oppression (Donham
In the meantime, paranoid about external and home-grown opposition forces, the state started to interfere with the church. The Protestant churches, as a result of being planted by Western missionaries, were considered to be foreign products. In fact,
Accordingly, the regime took a stance of rooting out the Protestant faith from Ethiopian soil. However, regardless of repression from the Marxist regime (and the EOC, even though it was functioning from a weakened position), there was no organised response from the Protestant churches. The lack of concerted response, as indicated above, stemmed from lack of political awareness and the absence of articulated positions on the interface of religion and politics. Instead of taking shape into a movement, the opposition was benign and practically oriented. The only person who attempted to mount an open challenge to an increasingly volatile regime was Gudina Tumsa. This was because of a combination of factors. Firstly, according to Tasgara Hirpo, Gudina grew up with people who claimed to have been deprived of religious, cultural and political rights. Secondly, he experienced ‘true liberation’ when he received the Protestant faith (Tasgara
Living under the communist regime, he organised several workshops to understand what it means to be a Christian while living under a repressive regime. In the midst of faction and political chaos, he urged the church to maintain a reconciliatory stance. At the peak of the bloody revolution, he organised the Council for Cooperation of Churches in Ethiopia, which included Catholics and the EOC, so they could weave a Christian narrative together to address the political crisis, which was pitting political groups against each other (Eshete
Yes, the Protestant churches did not have resources (or time) to articulate the interface between state and church, or religion and politics. However, by standing true to their concept of ‘rebirth into freedom’ and benign resistance, they were able to expose the limits of the state in its interference with religious affairs.
Protestant believers had several other reasons for distancing themselves from the regime. Firstly, they thought that the bridge between the regime and themselves was broken when the state was reconfigured in such a way that it could function from an irreligious standpoint. Scientific materialism, the regime espoused, was a new (and ungodly) religion. They started to see the regime as an obstacle to the divine blessing of Ethiopia. Secondly, and more devastatingly, the fact that they were treated as second-class citizens because of their faith created identity disorientation. Then the Protestant churches took on the task of (re-)construing their identity to their podiums. The outcome was the formation of the unwitting notion of
What did the notion of
Now, what was the consequence of the Protestant conception of society? The emergence of
Socially, such a conception of citizenship helped the church to overcome ethnic divides. Under heavenly citizenship, a member could be fully embraced within the community regardless of ethnic background or social status. The basic assumption was that heavenly citizenship transcended ethnic and cultural boundaries. Overcoming one’s own ethnic biases and joining the new community under a new identity was part of ‘rebirth’ and freedom. Protestantism seemed to serve as a venue where people from varied cultural and ethnic backgrounds could practise social ‘glossolalia’ – a language that was diverse, yet intelligible and redeeming.
Economically, the cause of poor peasants gained precedence on the Protestant agenda. It signalled a philosophical shift away from a class-oriented system to more communitarian pietism. Johnny Bakke portrayed this as ‘a way of meeting challenges from the Enlightenment without abandoning the faith in the Bible as the word of God’ (Bakke
Politically, the church developed what could be called a ‘politico-phobic’ attitude after the persecution. The alleged ‘godless’ attitude of the Marxist regime made believers perceive any involvement in politics as a betrayal of Christian faith. This, in turn, made the church create its own island. Protestant churches either went underground, or their activities were largely limited within the four walls of the church. The church insulated itself from engaging in public issues. Even in their relationship to the Marxist regime, as Tibebe rightly portrayed, Protestant churches ‘chose the path of suffering, the catacomb road […]’ instead of making ‘deep theological reflections on itself and its wider role in the socioeconomic and political environment of Ethiopian society […]’ (Eshete
This article set out to investigate how the dynamics between Protestant churches and the Marxist regime transformed Ethiopian social thinking. Special focus was given to the individual, church–state relations and social structure. These churches were born in a complex cultural and political milieu and engaged in a volatile relationship with different ecclesiastic and political agents. They shared some values with each agent but found themselves contradicting some of the central values of the agents. Contradictions were generated amidst the Protestant churches trying to stand outside the shadow of the incumbent political and ecclesiastical system while consolidating their identity and their belief system. Therefore, modernisation was not their top agenda. Neither did they have a well-articulated plan to stand in opposition to the political programmes of the state. However, the new faith and its message of freedom gave them a taste of individuality, the ability to negotiate their place in society and experience the limit of the state interfering with religious affairs, as well as the individual’s ability to choose. Therefore, two conclusions can be drawn from the analysis presented in this article. Firstly, Protestant churches made a significant contribution to the modernisation of Ethiopia. However, modernisation itself was borne out of the impact of ideological disruption that Protestant churches unintentionally brought. Secondly, Protestant churches had an unstable relationship with the Marxist regime. Although persecuted by the Marxist regime, Protestant churches ultimately helped the state’s effort towards social transformation.
The author declares that he or she has no financial or personal relationships which may have inappropriately influenced him or her in writing this article.
See the example of the Maale ethnic group in Donham’s