Why should one be proud of one's identity or country?

Why should one be proud of one's identity
or country?

4 May, 2010 | By Elyas Mulu Kiros

“I am a citizen of humanity first and by necessity, and a
citizen of France second, and only by accident.” -
Montesquieu

First, let me state clearly that I am

an expert neither on identity nor on

nationalism, but I am only a student

who is interested in issues related to

Ethiopia; this article is just a

reflection of what I feel as a young

Ethiopian.

Because Ethiopia is our birthplace,

whatever happens there, it affects

us deeply. When we hear or see

good news, we feel happiness and

pride. Similarly, when bad news

hits, we feel anger, sadness, and

shame. Among these various

feelings that we experience, “pride”

stands out.

Pride and Identity

One of the definitions of “pride” found in the Oxford dictionary:

“A feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own
achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely
associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired.”

Being proud is always challenging as much as it’s important; it’s
challenging because wherever there is pride, there is prejudice; it’s
important because pride (i.e. self-respect) boosts self-confidence, and
vice versa. However, excessive pride results in exaggerated self-
importance and is a recipe for a disaster. Comparably, excessive
humility destroys creative and productive potential. There is a saying in
Amharic: “Yekerere Yibetesal” (i.e. extremism of any kind self-
destroys).

Consider the question: what makes one (proud) Ethiopian? This
question was raised before I was even born, and still remains debatable
despite the dozens of books and articles that have been written about it.
Today, the duality of ethnic heritage and national identity is very
common in Ethiopia; this dual identity is more or less similar to an
American identifying herself as Latino-American, Korean-American,
Polish-American, Black-American, Caucasian-American, and so forth—
the ethnic or racial heritage does not diminish her “Americanness”, but
embellishes it.

Individual and collective identities can coexist as long as one does not
destroy the other—this was the exact reason why individuals like
Wallelign Mekonnen addressed the national question aggressively and
sacrificed their precious lives in the 1960s, clearing the path for others
to follow in their footsteps; though some people argue that those young
people were “just in love” with the “Marxist-Leninist” ideals, it is
difficult to completely discredit the genuineness of the youth movement
and the crucial questions raised during that critical period in the history
of Ethiopia.

If the coexistence of ethnic and national identity appears impossible,
consider your body as Ethiopia and the various organs that exist in it as
the different ethnic groups; each organ has its own unique identity, but
they also act as one.

The individual identity and the collective identity can be a source of
pride in a positive way when one tolerates the other and when fairness
exists. But then the collective identity could become a source of
discontent, forcing one to cling to one’s individual identity, while
allowing opportunist minds to turn things around for their advantage,
which could in turn lead everyone involved to identity crisis, to
exaggerated self-awareness, or to unnecessary and bloody conflicts.
Discontent happens when one oppresses and considers itself more
important than the other, instead of celebrating diversity, tolerating
differences, and sharing political and economic power fairly.

My friend wrote me the following after reading the draft copy of this
article:

“The ethnic and national identity thing has also been an issue for me
since I was a child. I was born in a Muslim Oromo dominated Bale. We
had Muslim Oromo neighbors on all four directions. But I always
sensed the underlying uneasy feeling my parents had about living in that
province. My mother is Amhara through and through, my father
believes he is Oromo—I say that because he claims his ethnic
background from an Oromo grandfather who adopted his Amhara
father, but his mother is Amhara through and through. So what does
that make me? That was a question that always bugged me. Things got
real when official circumstances needed that data. When I went to get
my ID from kebele, my mother asked me which ethnicity I want
indicated there, then when the census people showed up at our house
and asked for ethnic backgrounds, there I was contemplating the issue
again. My father’s slight disappointment that I identified myself as
Amhara didn’t help the situation. But I got to that conclusion using the
same way that he chose. He chose to be Oromo, despite knowing that
he has no Oromo blood. So I just made a decision, I chose to be
Amhara. I could have also said, my dad is Oromo so I am Oromo. But
the thing is, I don’t think he is, he chose to be.”

Another friend added:

“I grew up in a family that sympathizes with the old idea of Ethiopia
and which feels threatened by issues that arise based on ethnicity. Both
my parents are fluent in Oromic and Amharic and have Oromo blood
and they still hold their ground steadfast when it comes to their national
pride. I always consider myself Ethiopian first and do not even want to
think about my ethnicity; I have no tolerance towards people who are
more proud about their ethnic background. May be it is through an
extensive discourse we can get to the point where we feel comfortable
about the existence of other groups with different ideologies.”

I admire my friends’ honesty and crisp writing. They not only capture
the identity dilemma that Ethiopians face today, they also delicately
suggest, as shown in the second comment, one of the remedies for our
nagging national problem: extensive discourse. I am sure that many
agree with their stand just as many others would disagree. However,
their openness is a great example of the extra mile this generation is
willing to take in order to resolve conflicting ideas through debate and
dialogue instead of the tried and tested methods of the past that have
kept us in an unstable political environment.

Mixed Ethnic (or National) Identity and Pride

As many individuals have argued, a mixed background, though during
the time of peace considered a source of cultural pride, during the time
of political chaos could become a source of anguish and identity crisis;
it could also force the individual to either pick sides or to remain
neutral, both difficult options depending on the situation. Desmond
Tutu, the South African cleric and activist, once said: “if an elephant
has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the
mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”

Consider the Ethio-Eritrea case: now almost all Eritreans happily
celebrate their independence from Ethiopia. The “liberation,” regardless
of Eritrea’s domestic problems, has been a source of national pride,
especially for those who fought during the war and for the young who
were born after the war. The separation of Eritrea from Ethiopia, on
the other hand, remains a thorny issue for Ethiopians who still desire to
reunite the two countries for political, cultural, and economic reasons.
The situation makes life more complicated for a child born from both
Ethiopian and Eritrean parents, especially when the parents file for
divorce because of the politics. It is even worse when you look at it
from the perspective of Meles Zenawi, for example, who is half
Ethiopian and half Eritrean—no wonder why some see him as “a cold
Machiavellian rationalist,” an expression borrowed from a third friend
of mine.

A mixed background, apart from serving as a source of cultural pride,
can force individuals like Meles to develop a calculating mindset
because people are more likely to distrust them even when they are
genuine, a case that Jawar Mohammed cleverly articulated in his recent
article: “Tigrean Nationalism: From Revolutionary Force to Weapon of
Repression”.

Why should I be proud? Lemin? Limintay? Maalif?

Should I be proud of being Ethiopian? No doubt, I should, but it has to
be in a realistic manner; I have to carefully discern my source of pride.
What is that makes me proud? In the Western media, Ethiopia has been
synonymous with civil war, hunger, drought, population explosion,
environmental degradation, diseases, and all the bad things that one
could imagine, which for sure are not a source of pride, but
humiliation. And there is the positive part: the cultural and linguistic
diversity; the presence of Abrahamic and indigenous religions; the
endurance and hospitality of our people; the capital city, which has
always been a melting pot of contemporary art and politics, African or
otherwise; the brave and patriotic freedom fighters who defeated
colonial and oppressive forces; our food and traditional dresses; the
unique flora and fauna; fascinating anthropological, archeological, and
historical sites; beautiful landscapes, lakes and mountains; untapped
human talent and natural resources; and all the other exotic things we
have, which absolutely are sources of national pride.

Should I also be proud of my ethnic ancestry? No question, I should,
because that is part of who I am; repressing or destroying my ethnic
identity is impossible; I did not choose it, either—like Montesquieu, I
could say it was by accident. However, I have to be careful with it,
too, so to avoid ethnocentrism.

My parents speak three languages fluently: Amharic, Afaan Oromo and
Tigrigna; my mother has also been exposed to Anuak language and
culture. They never found it a problem to speak this or that language
and to cross between theirs and their neighbors’ culture. They do
sympathize with the old idea of Ethiopia like my friend’s parents; they
also take pride in their ethnic heritage.

When I was little, my parents taught me their language so I can
communicate with them; my father also made me recite the names of
his ancestors until the 8th generation, which I barely remember now—
he wanted continuity in tradition.

My parents’ experience shows that there is an apparent difference
between genuine ethnic pride and ethnocentrism; the former is
concerned about self-awareness and cultural heritage, the latter is
similar to religious fundamentalism, which undermines the common
bond one has with others.

My parents have seen bad times during the monarchy, derg, and now
under ethnic federalism. They constantly warn me to stay away from
politics because of the pain they endure (here I am breaking their
rule).

Ethnic federalism and pride

Apart from my parents’ influence, I grew up hearing “ethnic
federalism” like a mosquito buzz—just as children of the 60s, 70s, and
early 80s were raised with “marxist and leninist” slogans. I am aware
of the potential danger ethnic federalism poses to the nation-state. That
it can destabilize the country through fragmentation of society unless
the system is reformed. I say this not because I have the desire to
sound like a prophet of doom, but I have witnessed how things could
easily go from good to bad to worse where I grew up.

However, I am also aware why the effects of ethnic politics will last
for a long time to come even if the leaders are replaced. Seen from the
perspective of the “oppressed” ethnic groups, ethnic consciousness is a
gain, not a loss, because it has helped them re-embrace their cultural
pride, and more than that, it can be used as an instrument to mobilize
people and to achieve full-blown economic and political influence in the
nation-state that proponents of ethnic federalism once labeled as
“prison-house of nations and nationalities”.

Ethnic federalism has remained the mantra of this generation. The
average elementary school student knows something about ethnic
federalism, and the one in high school is as ethnic conscious as the one
in college. I was one of those students; some of our teachers used to
call us “guinea pigs”—it was a fitting title.

I remember when my pen friends in Addis took their 8th grade national
exam in English, I took mine in Amharic, others in Afaan Oromo, in
Tigrigna, etc. I would have proudly considered learning in one’s
language a breakthrough had the government not rushed, poorly
implemented, and politicized the program—we did not even have text
books when we started; as we passed from one grade to the other,
books were still scarce and arriving late. I remember how our teachers
struggled, but their dedication and determination helped us overcome
the challenge. It is obvious that for a radical change to take effect
someone has to pay the price, but when that someone is “you”, it is not
fun, of course; no wonder why today’s scientists test drugs first on
guinea pigs or other animals.

The Ethiopia that my 8th grader pen pal from Addis knew perhaps was
not the same as the one I knew; for sure he or she did not see the
bloody ethnic clashes that I saw in my own eyes in a remote village, in
Oromia, in the mid-1990s (for which both the ruling party and its
regional opponents of the time were responsible; only few people
outside that zonal area knew what happened there)—I am not talking
about Arsi (a place which has been referenced several times either
fairly or unfairly), but about events that transpired in Jimma zone. I am
not also here to blame this or that ethnic group for the damage caused
because the poor people who got involved (Gurague, Oromo, Tigray,
Amhara, etc) were all victims—one group was sacrificed as a
scapegoat, while the other was used as a weapon of revenge, and vice
versa; I would only blame the political actors of our historical past and
present.

Politicians (particularly from the ruling party) still treat people,
especially in regional towns and villages, like pawns on a chessboard.
The people constantly live in fear that anything bad could happen at any
time—perhaps, instilling fear is one of the chosen techniques of the
ruling party (just like the old regime) to stay in power; or, maybe
crippling fear and sporadic ethnic disharmony are the unavoidable by-
products of ethnic federalism in its current form.

Conclusion

Cesar Chavez, the Mexican-American civil rights activist, argued,
“once social change begins, it cannot be reversed. You cannot
uneducate the person who has learned to read. You cannot humiliate
the person who feels pride. You cannot oppress the people who are not
afraid anymore. We have seen the future, and the future is ours.” This
is true in Ethiopia’s case. Today, ethnic consciousness is pervasive and
entrenched in the regions; even the capital city, where supposedly an
enormous national pride overshadows ethnic identity, has remained the
center of debates concerning ethnic federalism.

My friend from Bale, quoted above, also included the following
observation:

“Everyday I get the feeling that we have made a U-turn somewhere,
and whoever wants to go back on the previous lane is going to face a
major opposition now. Because, now, people know. They know they
can proudly say who they are and no one can tell them someone else is
better than them based on their ethnic identity. We are all parts that
make up the whole. I just wish we had the same vision for this ‘whole’
that contains us all and also makes up the major part of who we are.”

I could not have said it better than her.

When Ethiopian regimes change, what has been a gain for one has been
a loss for others (or it has been perceived that way); a “change
everyone believes in” still has to happen. When that happens, we may
amend what has been damaged, keep what has worked, and discard
what has failed; this will eventually strengthen our common bond. As
the saying goes, no one can easily break the sticks when there are two
or more in a bundle.

We must aspire a “more perfect union” where the past remains history
and the future looks promising. We already know extreme suspicion,
division, mistrust and egoism will never let us move forward. For a
lasting peace and sustainable democracy, we must encourage and
support anyone who fights fire with water.

I recently read an article* that Dereje Alemayehu wrote in 1993; the
writer gave the following piece of advice to individuals who live outside
Ethiopia:

“The Ethiopians in the diaspora have many special responsibilities and
can help the cause of peace in our country in different ways. First of
all, as we are living away from the scene of action, we should try to
help de-emotionalise and de- personalise the political debates.
Whichever of the contending parties we may support, an appeal for de-
escalation and reconciliation has to be our primary concern.
Consequently, instead of jumping on the bandwagon of nationalist
movements, we should try to be “bridges”. Those of us who are not
involved in organisations should try to facilitate discussions instead of
being partisans….

“… our most important contribution towards peace and democracy
should be directed to democratizing the decision-making process and
cultivating the culture of solving all political problems by peaceful
means. In economic theory, they say that it is not wealth as such, but
the capacity to produce wealth which is fundamental. A solution can be
outdated quickly. If the methods of seeking other solutions to every
new challenge is not democratised, the country can go back to square
one again. Finding workable solutions to the burning problems of
Ethiopia depends on the success of democratizing and pacifying the
decision-making process.”

I rest my case.

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*Dereje’s article: A Diktat or a perspective for a democratic discourse?
(A reply of a “national-nihilist” to a mature neopatriot)

Email: elya.muki@yahoo.com
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