Mengistu Musie (Dr.)
It is deeply sad and disappointing when our adversaries level accusations against our cherished heroes, only for us to join them in repeating those accusations.
Instead of standing together, examining the facts, and defending those who have sacrificed for our people, we sometimes become willing participants in campaigns that ultimately serve our enemies’s interests.
The situation surrounding Asseress Mare, a member of the Fano leadership, is a troubling example. When he expressed his desire to step aside, rather than recognizing his work and allowing the matter to be handled with dignity, many of us appeared ready to join the chorus of complaints and criticism against him. We should ask ourselves: Why are we so quick to turn against our own leaders and heroes? Why do we sometimes become more keen to condemn our own people than to challenge those who are genuinely working against their interests?
This reminds me of the historical experience of Belay Zeleke, one of the celebrated Ethiopian resistance heroes who fought against the Italian fascist invasion. His contribution to the liberation of Ethiopia, particularly in Gojjam, was extraordinary. He organized and led a powerful resistance movement, mobilizing thousands of fighters and refusing to surrender to the occupying forces. His courage and military achievements made him an icon of resistance, national dignity, and the Ethiopian people's determination to defend their independence.
Yet after Ethiopia’s liberation and Emperor Haile Selassie’s return from Britain, the relationship between the state and this celebrated resistance leader deteriorated. The very hero who had fought for the liberation of his country eventually became viewed by the imperial authorities as a political and military threat. Instead of finding a dignified way to recognize his contribution and incorporate his leadership into the country’s future, the government moved against him. Belay Zeleke was eventually arrested, tried, and executed in 1945.
What a painful contradiction! A man who had risked his life and mobilized thousands to defend his homeland became a target of the very political establishment that had returned to power following liberation. His story is a clear reminder of how political insecurity, personal interests, and the fear of independent leadership can turn yesterday’s national heroes into today’s perceived enemies.
We must learn from this history. A people who fail to recognize, protect, and appreciate those who sacrifice for their freedom risk repeating the same mistakes. Disagreement with a leader should never become an excuse to destroy his dignity, deny his contribution, or undermine the larger struggle.
Today, the Fano fighters are in the field, confronting a brutal political and military reality while claiming to defend the Amhara people against violence, persecution, and insecurity. They are making enormous sacrifices under extremely difficult circumstances. Yet, sadly, some Amharas who are far removed from the realities and dangers of this struggle sit comfortably behind their computer screens and social media accounts, attacking, insulting, and condemning those who are putting their lives on the line.
Constructive criticism is necessary. No leader, organization, or movement should be above accountability. Fano leadership must be open to legitimate questions, engage in internal dialogue, be transparent, and exercise responsible leadership. However, there is a fundamental difference between constructive criticism and joining a campaign of personal attacks, character assassination, and public humiliation. We must never allow our disagreements to become weapons in the hands of those who wish to weaken the struggle.
If we genuinely care about the future of our people, we must learn to distinguish between criticizing a particular decision and discrediting an entire liberation movement. We must also distinguish between holding individual leaders responsible and undermining those who are making sacrifices for the collective cause.
The lesson of Belay Zeleke should not be forgotten: a nation must never become so politically insecure that it turns against the very people who fought to defend it. needed them most.
The Lesson of Belay Zeleke
The lesson of Belay Zeleke should never be forgotten: a nation must never become so politically insecure, ungrateful, or consumed by internal rivalries that it turns against the very people who fought and sacrificed to defend it.
The Second Italo-Ethiopian War (1935–1941) provides one of the most painful historical examples of this contradiction. When Fascist Italy invaded Ethiopia, the country faced an existential threat. The emperor, members of the royal family, and sections of the aristocracy left the country, while others remained in exile for years. Meanwhile, countless Ethiopian patriots, resistance fighters, and local leaders remained on the ground, organized resistance, and continued fighting the occupying forces under extremely difficult conditions.
These were the men and women who endured the hardships of occupation, risked their lives, lost family members, and sacrificed everything for the liberation of their homeland. They did not have the luxury of abandoning the country and waiting for the outcome of the war from abroad.
They remained, fought, and carried the burden of resistance.
Yet, when liberation finally came, and the Emperor returned from exile in 1941, the political order was re-established, and those who had been abroad once again occupied positions of authority. Many resistance fighters and local leaders who had played decisive roles in liberating their territories subsequently found themselves marginalized, suspected, harassed, imprisoned, or treated as political threats. Some were detained and sent to places of confinement, including Gezot, rather than receiving the recognition and respect their sacrifices deserved.
The contradiction was profound: those who had borne the burden of resistance during the occupation were now expected to submit to the authority of an established political order. At the same time, some who had spent years abroad returned to reclaim their former positions.
Consider the historical experiences of figures such as Degazmach Abere Yemam of Mecha, Degazmach Negash Bezabih of Kola Damot, and Dejazmach Geresu of Mecha. Their experiences deserve serious historical examination because they illustrate the difficult relationship between the patriotic resistance movement and the restoration of imperial authority after liberation.
Belay Zeleke’s fate is perhaps the most striking example. He was celebrated for his resistance against Italian fascism, yet after liberation, his independent influence and military standing became sources of concern for the imperial government. Rather than finding a way to incorporate his experience and leadership into the rebuilding of the nation, the government ultimately turned against him. His arrest and execution in 1945 remain a painful chapter in Ethiopian history.
What should we learn from this? We must stop repeating a political culture in which we celebrate our heroes when we need them but abandon, discredit, and persecute them when they become inconvenient to those in power.
Unfortunately, this pattern appears to be repeating itself today. Asseress Mare and other Fano leaders are increasingly becoming targets of accusations, hostility, and public attacks, even as Fano fighters continue to face enormous challenges on the ground. We may disagree with their decisions, question their leadership, or demand accountability. Such disagreements are legitimate. But we must not allow political differences to become instruments of destruction for the dignity and credibility of those who have made sacrifices for their people.
There is a painful expression in this history: we seem to have developed a habit of killing our heroes while they are still alive. We do not wait for history to judge their contributions. We rush to condemn them ourselves, often before understanding their circumstances or acknowledging what they have done.
Yesterday, it was Belay Zeleke and other resistance leaders. Today, it is Asseress Mare and many others who are facing similar hostility and public condemnation.
We must ask ourselves: Have we learned nothing from our history? Why do we repeatedly turn against those who stand on the front lines while those who benefit from their sacrifices remain comfortably removed from the dangers and hardships of the struggle?
Our responsibility is not to defend every individual or to unquestioningly excuse every mistake. It is to defend fairness, historical truth, accountability, and the dignity of those who sacrifice for their people. We must be capable of criticizing our leaders without destroying them, disagreeing without becoming enemies, and demanding accountability without serving the interests of those who wish to weaken our collective cause.
Let us not repeat the tragedy of Belay Zeleke. Let us learn to recognize, appreciate, and protect our heroes while they are alive—not wait until they are gone to celebrate their courage and mourn our failure to stand by them.
