Originally published on Teshome Beyene’s blog, republished here with permission.
A. Marching Against Dignity: The Shameful Campaign to Revoke Recognition Accorded to Meseret Hadush
Meseret Hadush
Meseret Hadush, a resident of Mekelle City and a long-time advocate for human rights and a philanthropist, has been a target of public protest in Mekelle this week.
What went wrong with her? Does she deserve public vilification? And who carried out that condemnation? Let us quickly walk through these issues as our first points of departure.
Meseret could well have her ulterior motives, potential downsides, weaknesses, or, in a worst-case scenario, even some criminal activities. But how many people are free from such blemish, real or perceived?
Even if such suspicions existed regarding her, I don’t think mass vilification would be the right way to go about it. The proper course would be a formal investigation through appropriate legal and institutional channels. Intimidating her through a familiar, hideous demonstration—mobilising recruited members to harass and humiliate—is not only unjust but counterproductive. Targeting a single individual in this manner, rather than addressing systemic issues or holding accountable those responsible for large-scale abuses, undermines the principles of justice and civility.
Let me give the details about the award given to her and the demonstrations.
The Bremen Solidarity Award, established in 1988, is awarded every two years by the Senate of the Free Hanseatic City of Bremen, Germany. The award recognizes individuals and organizations working to overcome injustices in the North–South relationship and to address the enduring consequences of colonialism and racism. It is endowed with 10,000 euros and includes a sculpture created by the Bremen artist Bernd Altenstein, symbolizing solidarity and shared humanity.
In essence, the Bremen Solidarity Award is among Europe’s most respected recognitions for social justice activism, and over the years it has honoured notable figures — including, at times, those who stood shoulder to shoulder with icons like the Mandelas in their struggles against oppression.
Meseret Hadush, a Tigryan, found herself in that distinguished company. She earned the award for her work through her NGO, Hiwiett, which has sought to alleviate the suffering of women in Tigray — many of whom endured unspeakable violence during the genocidal war that ravaged the region. However, her recognition should have been a moment of collective pride — a reminder to the world of the resilience and humanity of Tigrayan women in the aftermath of horror. But, in the muddied politics of Tigray, women are made to ask for the revocation of the award. A mindless call for the annulment of an international recognition.
Meseret has become the target of an organized campaign of vilification. A group of women, reportedly mobilized under the auspices of the Women’s Affairs Bureau, led by Kiros Hagos — an old political fixture within the TPLF orbit — staged a street demonstration in Mekelle calling for the revocation of Meseret’s Bremen Award. They accused her of exploiting victims for personal gain, of building her reputation on their pain, and of “misusing” the dignity of Tigrayan women. They are not mindful, or are not aware of the consequences of such a call, that they are also undermining the cause of the Tigryan victim, which would attract attention only through cumulative efforts, and attending recognitions.
But one must ask: why Meseret? Why now? The same streets that stayed silent when women were raped and mutilated, when journalists were jailed, and when the corrupt enriched themselves, suddenly found the strength to rise against a single, powerless woman? Where was this fervour when Abiy Ahmed trivialized rape — comparing the stabbing of men by men by bayonet to the rape of women by men, and voicing it in a parliamentary session “as benign”? These same women never called for the revocation of Abiy’s Nobel Peace Prize, nor did they march when Tigrayan women were lynched and humiliated in broad daylight in Mekele and other cities.
The answer may not lie in Meseret’s supposed misconduct, but in what she represents — and, perhaps more importantly, what she knows. A respected observer confided that Meseret’s ordeal may have begun when she candidly told international partners that the majority of wartime rapes were committed by Eritrean soldiers — a truth inconvenient to those still hoping to rehabilitate relations with Asmara. Others believe she possesses knowledge implicating senior political or military figures in abuses of women during or after the war. Whether or not these claims are substantiated, they shed light on a familiar pattern: when truth threatens power, power mobilizes the crowd.
What makes this even more perplexing is the timing. Meseret has been visible for years — speaking to the media, leading her NGO, and advocating for survivors. If there were credible accusations against her, why were they not handled through legal and institutional channels? In fact, reports indicate that Meseret was already brought before the court — and acquitted of all charges. Yet, that acquittal was not enough to shield her from the manufactured fury of a political establishment that has long perfected the art of weaponizing the grassroots against independent actors.
After all, there is so much to demonstrate and to demand in Tigray — not least what President Tadesse Worede himself admitted: that gold has been plundered in Tigray by individuals acting out of sheer rapacity. Let people take to the streets for that. Let them challenge Tadesse to bring those culprits to justice — and to account for the many others who have profited from public misery. But instead, the fury has been conveniently redirected toward Meseret — a woman who neither mined the gold nor commanded the guns. To make her the lightning rod for people’s frustrations is not only misguided but calculated — beyond the goat, as Abdi, the former Somali Region president, once quipped.
I stand with Meseret Hadush. She deserves the right to speak, to defend her work, and to be judged by facts, not by orchestrated mobs. The Bremen Solidarity Award recognized her for helping women reclaim dignity from devastation. To punish her for that is to spit on that same dignity — and to confirm, once again, that in our land, courage is often the first casualty of politics.
Let no one judge anyone as felonious until he or she is proven guilty.
B. General Tsadkan on the Limelight: Another Round of Controversial Interview
Tsadkan demonstrates remarkable clarity on political and democratic issues. For him, politics is fundamentally about institutions, institutional independence, and checks and balances—contrasting sharply with the narrow, ideologically driven understanding of “revolutionary democracy” held by many of his comrades. He confirmed that the TPLF has historically never understood the principle of separating party and government, leading to viewing the Interim Government as little more than a rubber stamp for decisions made by a small circle at the TPLF Executive Committee. Once again, he articulated a precise and well-grounded perspective on democracy.
For years, Ethiopians have given Tsadkan the benefit of the doubt, and his charisma has remained largely intact. Even when he supposedly led a campaign against Abiy’s genocidal regime, members of Abiy’s circle were cautious not to slander him, mindful of his past dignity and achievements. That is to say, let alone Tigryans – as a subset of Ethiopians – even other Ethiopians have not been ungrateful to his role in the Ethio-Eritrean war and his professional demeanor all along.
Having said that, I have serious questions about some of his recent statements. Let me put them as follows:
Silence on Abiy’s government: Tsadkan has consistently avoided directly critiquing the federal government, even attributing some of Abiy’s military crimes to Eritrean actors. He impliedly questioned the reasons for the outbreak of war, despite previously acknowledging that Tigray was invaded and resistance was necessary. This fallacy of equivalence risks diluting accountability and obscuring the constellation of forces—including Abiy’s government—that initiated the conflict. He also laid the entire blame for the delayed restoration of Humera, Wolkait, and Tsegede on the TPLF, ignoring the tacit role of the Prosperity Party (PP) and other federal actors who may have treated these territories as bargaining chips and actually refrained from acknowledging that these territories are Tigryans, and did not voice that these territories should be returned to Tigray.
Potentially dangerous statements about militarisation: Tsadkan suggested that the TPLF, FANO, and the EPLF are working together, also claiming that the TPLF imports armaments through Sudan and Eritrea. In the current climate—where Abiy repeatedly asserts his ability to eliminate opponents using drones and other military assets—publicising alleged Tigrayan militarisation without simultaneously critiquing Abiy’s posture could incite another genocidal campaign. By portraying the TPLF as the primary instigator while remaining silent on Abiy’s warlike posture, Tsadkan risks inflaming tensions rather than mitigating them. Only four years ago, he lambasted Abiy for stating that “no people would be able to resist the power of money and force.” His selective framing now undermines consistency.
Critique of Tadese Worede and calls for removal: While Tsadkan criticised Tadese Worede’s leadership and effectively called for his removal, the real concern is broader: transforming the political architecture of Tigray itself. Calls for change should focus on establishing a government that is reasonably representative and capable of moving beyond the longstanding domination of the TPLF. ‘‘Tadese’s tricky and opportunistic character’’ is secondary to the imperative of reforming Tigray’s governance structures, ensuring accountability, inclusivity, and democratic legitimacy.
Conditional opposition to the TPLF: Tsadkan’s opposition to the party appears dependent on timing. He did not challenge the TPLF immediately after his expulsion from military command in 2002, nor during the genocidal war when he remained part of its inner circle. Even then, he famously remarked that “you cannot change a horse in the middle of a river,” advocating for continuity rather than independent oversight—even though many argued that the war should have been managed by a neutral council aimed at saving Tigray rather than protecting the TPLF.
Performance of the government under Getachew Reda: The administration that Tsadkan was part of is widely regarded as slow, hesitant, and appeasing, allowing Debretsion’s rump to dominate grassroots governance. While Getachew Reda’s leadership focused on higher-level politics—meetings, workshops, and idea exchanges—it left local governance weak and disorganised. Tsadkan should publicly acknowledge these shortcomings, while also noting that ultimate responsibility lay with Getachew as leader and himself as a team member.
In sum, while Tsadkan’s efforts to unite opposition forces are commendable, his selective framing of facts, timing of statements, and conditional opposition risk undermining both his credibility and the very cause he seeks to advance. His media appearances, rather than bolstering influence, may inadvertently do more harm than good.
C. Cultural Generals: Masters of War, Servants of Faction
General Megeby vehemently but non-combatively spoke in defence of being labelled a “cultural general.” He expressed his happiness with the term, a turn of irony, by pleasantly twisting its meaning, and saying, “We are products of the historic knowledge of the people of Tigray on war and resistance.”
I would start by saying that there is not much doubt about the competence of these Tigrayan generals who are now leading the TDF. These were the generals who marched into Addis Ababa in 1991 against a massive army. They were the same commanders who broke through Eritrean trenches, mobilized tens of thousands from almost nothing—youth especially motivated by the massacres committed by the Derg and EPLF—and led campaigns hundreds of kilometres across the country against combined enemies in the 2020–2022 war.
Their operational excellence, valour, and institutional knowledge are undeniable. However, the term “cultural general” is less about their battlefield competency and more about their approach and worldview.
First, these generals are subservient to one political faction. They struggle to delineate the line between politics and the military and have chosen to side with one party rather than remain impartial— worse, aligning with the faction that is reactionary. I would have preferred that they stage an independent and direct coup, as many African generals have historically done, rather than supporting a faction and deepening political divides in Tigray.
Their lack of professionalism shows in statements like “a generation has to sacrifice itself for the next resistance.” How many generations should Tigray be asked to sacrifice? Viewing the future through the lens of continuous conflict—even if unintentional—is indefensible.
They further demonstrate outdated thinking when claiming that “drones and other sophisticated armaments cannot change anything on the field.” This old-school bravado, which overemphasizes defiance over strategic calculation, undermines professionalism.
In short, while no one doubts their operational skill, stamina, or courage, the label “cultural general” reflects the perception that their worldview and approach to conflict are not fully professional—they are shaped more by allegiance, bravado, and ideology than by impartial strategic judgement.
D. Between War and Peace: Steering Clear of Conflict
The TPLF has formally responded to Ethiopia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, rejecting claims of collusion with Eritrea under the so-called “Tsimdo” alliance. In a letter to UN Secretary-General António Guterres dated 8 October 2025, the TPLF described Ethiopia’s allegations as “politically motivated” and accused the federal government of diverting attention from its violations of the Pretoria Agreement, which ended the Tigray conflict in 2022.
The TPLF dismissed accusations of involvement in recent Fano militia attacks in Woldiya and other areas. It also stressed that emerging people-to-people interactions with Eritrean communities are constructive steps toward reconciliation rather than a prelude to renewed conflict.
In its letter, the TPLF urged the African Union and international partners to convene a review meeting to ensure full implementation of the Pretoria Agreement. It called for strengthening the Joint Monitoring, Verification, and Compliance Mechanism (JMVCM), the withdrawal of non-Ethiopian National Defense Force (ENDF) units, the safe return of internally displaced persons (IDPs), and accountability for perpetrators of human rights violations. The party also criticised attempts to alter the boundaries of Western Tigray and the denial of its legal status by the National Election Board of Ethiopia, arguing that such actions undermine peace and inclusivity.
Ethiopia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in its 2 October 2025 letter, accused Eritrea and the TPLF of orchestrating destabilising operations in the Amhara region and violating the Pretoria Agreement, framing Eritrean actions as a threat to Ethiopia’s sovereignty. The letter emphasised Ethiopia’s restraint, commitment to peace, and pursuit of maritime access for economic integration, while warning that ongoing militarisation risks reigniting conflict.
Eritrean officials, including Foreign Minister Osman Saleh, rejected accusations of interference, asserting that Eritrea had redeployed its forces within internationally recognised borders and that the Pretoria Agreement is an internal Ethiopian matter. Former Tigray Interim Administration officials, including Getachew Reda and Lt. Gen. Tsadkan Gebretensae, warned of heightened risks of renewed conflict, with Tigray potentially becoming the main battleground. U.S. lawmakers, notably Senator James Risch, have called for urgent de-escalation to prevent catastrophic consequences.
Amid these tensions, the broader context highlights that all parties bear some responsibility for the potential escalation of conflict. Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s repeated threats regarding Assab reflect a posture of bravado and jingoism. Historical precedent only shows that Ethiopia regained Assab in 1954 through diplomacy, led by Foreign Minister Aklilu Habtewold under Emperor Haile Selassie. While Ethiopia, as a large country with historical claims, has reason to desire coastal access, this alone cannot justify war.
Even if there appears to be a temporary alignment between the TPLF and Eritrea, Eritrean leadership—whether the EPLF or the current government—is driven by short-term interests and has historically acted against Tigray’s core concerns. Past atrocities against the Tigrayan people make trust impossible.
As to me, and millions of others, for Tigray, war is not an option. The region must focus on uniting around the full implementation of the Pretoria Agreement and resist taking sides between the federal government and Eritrea. Simultaneously, Tigray should actively wish and work to prevent a war between these powers, recognising that such a conflict would be deleterious for all. Switzerland may not be a perfect parallel, but it provides an instructive example: despite being surrounded by warring powers during World War II, it successfully remained neutral.
The guiding principle for Tigray should be clear: It must evade war at all costs without siding with anyone, while hoping that conflict between the federal government and Eritrea can be avoided.
Having said that, let me put this forward as my own take:
The so-called “Tsimdo” or people-to-people relations between the Tigrayan and Eritrean communities carry far deeper implications than they appear. If it is to be genuine and effective, without the assent—and the machinations—of Isaias Afwerki, such interactions could not exist at all. Eritrea remains a tightly controlled police state. Consider 2018: the border at Zalambassa was temporarily opened for just four months. Isaias allowed it briefly, but when he judged that the Eritrean population was either learning undesirable lessons from Tigray or that sufficient surveillance of Tigray had been completed, he abruptly shut it—like turning off a water tap—precisely on the week of Ethiopian Christmas. The TPLF may frame this as a benign “people-to-people” engagement, but in reality, Tsimdo extends far beyond such interactions and should not be viewed at face value.