BY THOMAS GEDLE
Yesterday, PM Abiy Ahmed addressed the nation with his usual cool—calm, composed, and completely detached from reality. He stood there, radiating confidence, but his eyes told another story. He looked exhausted, like a man silently asking himself, «How did I get into this mess?» Somewhere deep down, he must know the truth: his days in power are numbered.
And then there’s Parliament—a 700-member assembly that feels more like a scripted reality show than a governing body. Their role? Show up twice a year, wear traditional attire, and clap on cue. If you watched closely, you’d see MPs nervously glancing at each other, trying to time their applause—too early, and they’d look overeager; too late, and they’d risk looking disloyal. Others just sat there, lost in thoughts of lunch or their next taxpayer-funded “work trip.”
A War That Has Bankrupted the Nation
Last year, Foreign Affairs Magazine revealed that Abiy had funneled 37% of Ethiopia’s national budget—$6 billion—straight into his war machine. This year? He’s burned through the same amount in just six months. By the end of the year, the government will have spent a staggering $12 billion on destruction, practically wiping out the entire budget.
The real cost, though, is even worse. Over 10,000 schools have been destroyed beyond repair. Hospitals, churches, and critical infrastructure? The damage is immeasurable. By the time everything is accounted for, the destruction in Amhara could easily surpass, and may even double, the $30 billion devastation in Tigray.
And yet, in the middle of all this, Abiy insists Ethiopia is prospering. The economy, he claims, is growing. Growing where, exactly? In his imagination? How does a country survive six years of brutal war and still pretend it’s thriving? You’d have to be completely delusional to believe it.
We’ve seen this before. Mengistu didn’t fall because the TPLF had a superior military—he fell because he ran out of money. War is expensive, and when the funds dry up, so does the power. Abiy is on the same path. The money will run out, and when it does, he’ll spin some excuse and flee—probably to the UAE.
Meanwhile, Ethiopia, already drowning in debt, is now desperately waiting for its next IMF loan installment just to stay afloat. Without it, economic collapse is just months away.
A Government in Denial
As Abiy spoke, Parliament nodded along, pretending he had just unveiled the formula for economic success. Ask the average MP about inflation, and half would probably think it’s a holiday celebrated with cake and coffee. The other half would mumble about “foreign enemies” while adjusting their ceremonial sashes—completely oblivious to the fact that the real enemy is standing right in front of them.
Parliament has become nothing more than a stage for political theater. The usual thunderous applause for their leader was there, but this time, something felt different—forced, hesitant. Even they seemed to sense that the foundation beneath them was crumbling.
Then came the moment that shattered the illusion. Amidst the sea of sycophants, Dr. Desalegn Chane, an Amhara MP, stood up and did the unthinkable—he spoke the truth. He laid out, in brutal detail, the human rights atrocities committed under Abiy’s watch, citing reports from both local and international sources.
For a brief moment, the room froze. Some MPs shifted in their seats, suddenly aware that they were on a sinking ship. Others—completely devoid of shame—simply tuned out, waiting for the moment to pass so they could go back to clapping.
The Final Question
Ethiopia stands on the edge of ruin. The war is devouring its people and its wealth, and Abiy Ahmed is driving the country straight into disaster. The only question now isn’t if his rule will collapse—but how much destruction he will leave behind when it does.