Addis Abeba — When Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed appeared at Addis Ababa University (AAU) on 02 January 2026, to mark its 75th anniversary, many expected him to reflect on the university's journey and its contributions to Ethiopian society. As the occasion was the first time Prime Minister Abiy addressed the AAU community, the moment called for more than ceremony. It invited a vision for higher education, one that could articulate national ambition, shape expectations, signal priorities, and set the tone for how a society should imagine its intellectual life.
At a moment when higher education faces profound technological and institutional pressures, a national leader might have used the occasion to affirm intellectual freedom, scholarly rigor, and the need for adaptive, resilient, and future-oriented universities.
Instead, the lecture, titled "The Role of Intellectuals for National Prosperity?" turned out to be something else entirely. It became a political performance that redefined intellectual life in state-friendly terms, insulated executive power from criticism, and practically diminished the country's most important academic institution. The speech unfolded through three overlapping moves: a conceptual takeover through a deluge of redefinition of academic lexicons, a defensive political performance designed to deflect responsibility for governance failures, and a subtle but unmistakable subordination of Addis Ababa University itself.
A Politics of Definition
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Much of the lecture revolved around defining concepts. The prime minister described intellectuals as those who ask questions, use ideas to solve problems, and think beyond emotion or personal interest. On the surface, this seems benign. But definitions are never neutral, and these were strategically crafted.
By defining intellectuals narrowly as rational problem-solvers detached from emotion or political engagement, the lecture sharply distinguished "true" intellectuals from activists, dissenters, and morally outraged critics. Public dissent, political mobilization, and ethical indignation were subtly cast as anti-intellectual--impulsive, arrogant, or undisciplined. Intellectual virtue was conversely equated with restraint, patience, and alignment with state-driven development narratives.
The prime minister further introduced a typology of leadership "currencies," assigning power to political leaders, faith to religious leaders, and ideas to intellectuals. In this taxonomy, he argued, intellectuals should remain strictly within the domain of ideas--not power, emotion, or political struggle. He then categorized Ethiopian intellectuals as dreamers, visionaries, exiles, and revolutionaries, implicitly blaming the last group for the country's historical woes.
The implication was unmistakable: scholars who engage politically, criticize state violence, or challenge executive authority are no longer intellectuals but violators of intellectual virtue. This was not a philosophical clarification; it was a normative directive about how academics should behave under his leadership. Intellectual responsibility was reframed away from critique and accountability and toward technocratic compliance.
A Defensive Speech Without Defenses
Although the lecture avoided explicit reference to Ethiopia's multifarious crises, it was deeply defensive in tone and structure. Designed to serve as a preemptive rebuttal of potential charges of omission, obfuscation, or obscuration, the lecture implicitly or explicitly defended the prime minister's past governance record, ongoing programs, and future and undertakings.
First, the prime minister used the platform for self-vindication. His repeated insistence that "true intellectuals are not emotional" implicitly dismissed critiques of his war conduct, human rights abuses, and governance failures as products of immaturity or misunderstanding. Critics were portrayed as lacking depth or patience, while destructive decisions were framed as outcomes of superior reasoning beyond the reach of pedestrians posing as intellectuals.
.... scholars who engage politically, criticize state violence, or challenge executive authority are no longer intellectuals but violators of intellectual virtue."
Second, silence became a rhetorical strategy. There was no acknowledgment of attacks on universities, arrests of academics, or campus militarization. The vague notion of leadership "currencies" served as a metaphor to suggest that the prime minister was operating within his rightful domain, while intellectuals who questioned him were overstepping theirs.
Third, historical repositioning completed the defensive architecture. Ethiopia's current challenges were framed as inherited or structural rather than consequences of recent decisions. This allowed him to present the ruling party as engaged in long-term nation-building, while critics were subtly cast as unpatriotic or shortsighted. Intellectual responsibility was equated with loyalty to the nation, and by extension, to the ruling party.
The cumulative effect was insulation. By simultaneously redefining intellectualism and patriotism, the speech shielded power from scrutiny without confronting evidence.
Diminishing the University
Delivered at AAU, the lecture paradoxically diminished the institution it claimed to honor. The tone was didactic and paternalistic. Rather than engaging scholars as peers, the prime minister positioned himself as the ultimate arbiter of intellectual legitimacy. Though presented as an academic lecture, it lacked theoretical grounding and made no effort to build on existing scholarship. In hindsight, it seems the prime minister deliberately bypassed academic norms and methodologies to advance a model of knowledge production that undercuts the university's scholarly foundations.
Addis Ababa University's historic role as Ethiopia's premier site of critical thought, political analysis, and resistance to injustice is incontrovertible. Even the prime minister had no choice but to nominally acknowledge these achievements, only to quickly frame it as a record of failure. The prime minister emphasized that AAU graduates had not produced transformative ideas or effective leaders, indirectly portraying the institution as having fallen short of its mission over 75 years.
By redefining intellectual pursuit in state-friendly terms, the lecture subordinated academic freedom to executive authority. Knowledge was valued only insofar as it served a regime-defined notion of prosperity, not truth or independent inquiry. The question-and-answer session reinforced this hierarchy: questions were deferential, cautious, and tentative. Even the stage arrangement, with the prime minister occupying a lofty position from which he spoke down to professors, symbolized AAU's diminished autonomy and intellectual confidence.
A Deeper Crisis
The AAU lecture was not an isolated misstep. It demonstrated the prime minister's success in positioning himself as an unquestioned intellectual authority. In his lecture, polished phrases and rhetorical sophistication replaced structured reasoning and academic freedom. The occasion was used to bring to an academic setting what has already become a reality in the public square, where national discourse has shifted from intellectual inspiration to manipulative sophistry, from accountability to narrative control. Many citizens now avoid "intellectual" speeches not out of hostility, but exhaustion.
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In a single appearance, Abiy Ahmed has subordinated AAU to executive control. The university appeared less like an autonomous institution and more like a training ground for regime-compatible expertise. His predecessors, Meles Zenawi and Hailemariam Desalegn, did not flaunt scholarship and scholars. Whatever their flaws, both often displayed scholarly rigor and intellectual depth in their public remarks, demonstrating competence in building arguments, anticipating objections, and seriously engaging with ideas.
By contrast, Prime Minister Abiy seeks to position himself above scholars with decades of academic work, without having produced anything of scholarly value to show for his own academic achievement. His Medemer series lacks methodological clarity, historical continuity, and critical engagement. It reads more like a collage of ideas than a coherent scholarly work. When intellectual pursuit becomes a prop for image-building, it becomes a mundane public ritual rather than intellectual leadership.
All of this reflects a broader crisis in Ethiopia's intellectual and political life. The lecture revealed a leader eager to appear intellectually superior without submitting to evidence or critique. True intellectual depth is measured not by eloquence but by institutional strength, policy coherence, and accountability. On those measures, Ethiopia's multifaceted crises--too conspicuously absent from the anniversary speech--speak louder than any polished rhetoric. AS
Editor's Note: Ezekiel Gebissa is a professor of history and African studies at Kettering University in Flint, Michigan. He can be reached at egbarro@gmail.com
