[Ethnicized Gatekeeping: How AfaanOromo and Oromo-Sounding Names structure Advantag
Girma Berhanu
Department of Education and Special Education (Professor)
University of Gothenburg
Box 300, SE 405 30
Göteborg, Sweden
E-mail: Girma.Berhanu@ped.gu.se
Introduction
This essay argues that in contemporary Ethiopia, linguistic and onomastic markers—particularly the ability to speak Afaan Oromo or to bear an Oromo-sounding name—have been transformed into informal instruments of power. These markers increasingly structure access to public services, personal security, and institutional trust. In doing so, they institutionalize unequal forms of citizenship and erode the state’s claim to universal, neutral governance.
Over several decades, I have observed and documented personal accounts reflecting these dynamics. During the TPLF/EPRDF period, I published a number of articles examining ethnic stratification, internal colonialism, and systemic inequalities (see Berhanu, G. 2017. Ethiopia: Intellectual Genocide in the Making? The Strong and Pervasive Evidence of Ethnic Inequalities. Advances in Social Sciences Research Journal, 4(13), 133–165). That body of work analyzed both macro-level structural domination and micro-level aggressions embedded in everyday interactions. At the time, I argued that Tigreans were disproportionately favored across political, economic, military, and cultural institutions, resulting in entrenched hierarchies of power and access.
My scholarly interest has consistently centered on how such hierarchies are reproduced in daily interactions—through language, naming practices, and informal gatekeeping mechanisms. By documenting and analyzing these patterns, I sought to contribute to a broader understanding of ethnicizedgovernance and its consequences, with the aim of encouraging critical reflection, reform, and peaceful transformation
In this essay, structural racism—conceptualized here as ethnicized state hierarchy—is examined as a system through which historical, cultural, institutional, and interpersonal dynamics become normalized and legitimized. I argue that in contemporary Ethiopia, these dynamics increasingly advantage segments of the Oromo political elite while generating cumulative and chronic adverse outcomes for other ethnic communities across the country. The result is a hierarchy of power and access in which preferential treatment, patronage networks, and informal gatekeeping practices shape citizenship in unequal ways.
The urgency of this situation cannot be overstated. Patterns of perceived inequity—manifested in favoritism, nepotism, land appropriation, unequal access to state resources, and uneven protection under the law—have contributed to deep mistrust among communities. An adequate response to injustice of this magnitude requires structural reform: genuine democratization, strengthened rule of law, and the development of independent civil society institutions capable of holding power accountable. Without these, grievances accumulate and cycles of instability persist.
The gravity of the matter recalls the moral clarity expressed by Elie Wiesel in his Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech on December 10, 1986. He warned: “We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” His broader message—that indifference in the face of injustice enables oppression—resonates strongly in contexts where human dignity, political participation, and equal citizenship are perceived to be under threat. For Ethiopia, the concern is that political neutrality in the face of systemic discrimination risks eroding the nation’s intellectual, civic, and moral foundations.
My central thesis is that the current Ethiopian regime appears, in practice, to reproduce ethnicized governance patterns that many citizens experience as discriminatory. Reports of inequitable distribution of public goods, selective enforcement of laws, suppression of dissent, and violent crackdowns on protest contribute to a volatile political environment. Mass demonstrations demanding basic human rights—long suppressed during the EPRDF era and continuing under the current administration—have repeatedly been met with coercion, excessive force, and sweeping restrictions on dissent. Such responses have deepened perceptions of entrenched authoritarianism, systemic democratic deficit, and the deliberate exclusion of citizens from meaningful political participation.
The federal system—introduced with the stated aim of managing diversity and mitigating ethnic conflict—has struggled to fulfill its integrative promise. While designed to institutionalize self-governance, critics argue that political and economic power remains highly centralized at the federal level. At the same time, ethnic favoritism, state partiality, and the absence of a unifying national vision have weakened trust in the system. Secessionist pressures and interethnic tensions continue to threaten long-term stability.
Historically, political dominance in Ethiopia shifted from a period in which the ruling coalition was widely perceived as dominated by ethnic Tigrayan elites to the present era, in which Oromo political actors hold significant executive authority. Yet the broader structural concern remains constant: concentration of power within narrow elite networks—regardless of ethnic identity—undermines inclusive governance.
As a scholar of education, I have paid particular attention to how these hierarchies manifest in daily institutional life. Language proficiency, personal names, and perceived ethnic affiliation can influence interactions within public institutions. Informal gatekeeping practices—at airports, passport offices, tax bureaus, and other state services—are widely reported and observed by citizens as mechanisms through which inclusion or exclusion is enacted. Whether through overt discrimination or subtle micro-level interactions, such practices erode confidence in the neutrality of public administration.
Economically, there is a widespread perception that wealth distribution has shifted unevenly, with benefits accruing disproportionately to politically connected elites. Although some development gains have reached multiple regions, critics argue that disparities remain large and persistent. These inequalities, whether empirically measured or socially perceived, shape political mobilization and collective grievance.
The broader question, therefore, is not solely which ethnic group holds power at a given historical moment, but whether Ethiopia can build institutions that transcend ethnic patronage systems altogether. Sustainable peace and democratic consolidation require impartial state institutions, transparent governance, equitable development policies, and protection of civil liberties for all citizens—regardless of ethnic identity, language, or region.
Only through structural transformation grounded in democratic accountability and civic equality can the underlying causes of recurring injustice be addressed. Without such reform, the cycle of elite domination, public discontent, and instability is likely to continue.
Ethnicized Gatekeeping: How Afaan Oromo and Oromo-Sounding Names Structure Advantage
The overall aim of this analysis is to document and examine how Afaan Oromo and onomastic identity function in practice as informal instruments of power within contemporary Ethiopia. Drawing on long-term observation, personal accounts, and institutional case illustrations, the study explores how linguistic proficiency and name-based ethnic identification appear to influence everyday interactions with state authorities and public institutions. In multiple reported contexts—such as passport services, taxation offices, public administration, airport procedures, and educational institutions—language use and name recognition are described as shaping the quality, speed, and tone of service delivery.
In this sense, Afaan Oromo proficiency and Oromo-sounding names may operate as forms of practical political capital. These markers can affect perceived belonging, institutional trust, and informal access to decision-makers. While the politicization of language and naming is not unique to Ethiopia, the current context renders these identity markers particularly salient in bureaucratic encounters. Patterns described by respondents suggest that language and naming sometimes function as informal criteria through which inclusion, advantage, or exclusion are enacted.
Rather than treating these dynamics as isolated incidents, this analysis situates them within broader institutional structures, where informal gatekeeping practices intersect with formal state authority. The cumulative effect of such practices, as reported across sectors, is the perception—and in some cases the experience—of differentiated citizenship, in which institutional neutrality is unevenly applied.
The material I used for this synthesis is enormous, particularly covering the eight years since Abiy took power. It is based on observations accumulated over this period.
People have shared story after story with me. It is disturbing how just a few sentences in Oromogna can open doors to services and spare some individuals the unnecessary difficulties others face when trying to complete errands in town that require official approval. One friend, who has only a rudimentary knowledge of Oromogna, managed to clear his matters at the airport simply by saying in Oromogna, “Am I done now?” An officer—who had previously asked him a rather absurd question about whether he had drones or drone-operating software on his computer, seemingly because his name did not sound Oromo—was clearly taken aback. Once my friend spoke a few words in Oromogna, everything was facilitated.
Even last week, several acquaintances from the Middle East, with names such as Fatima Abamecha, Birkisa Aba Jebel, Chaltu Aba Geru, and Zebiba Aba Jifar—along with surnames like Aba Gero or Aba Gidi—described how their names effectively functioned as “green cards” at the airport and in many offices in the city and regional towns where official signatures are required. They told me themselves how their names suddenly and unfairly facilitated their cases. These are thoughtful and decent people, and they are fully aware of the long-term consequences that such practices may have.
A friend whose grandfather’s name is Wako encountered difficulties in Addis while trying to process a case. An officer or clerk asked him whether he could speak Oromogna. He replied, “Even my father cannot speak it, because his father died at a very young age during the war. My father grew up in Addis with relatives.” The officer responded by questioning how he could carry such a “great” name and yet not speak Oromogna. The exchange led nowhere. The clerk became unnecessarily upset over what seemed to be a trivial matter. Eventually, my friend grew tired and left the office without completing his power-of-attorney errand.
Another troubling development is that some members of the elite with mixed ethnic heritage have begun adjusting or changing their names to sound Oromo. This appears to be an opportunistic and materially driven response to current circumstances. In the past, many Oromos changed their names in an effort to adopt more modern, Amhara, or Christian-sounding names, often voluntarily, as a way of integrating more easily into Ethiopia’s multiethnic landscape. This was partly because Amharic has long functioned as a lingua franca in Ethiopia. At the same time, it is difficult to deny that there has often been subtle social pressure to adopt the national language and to speak it without an accent.
An empirical question concerns how these dynamics play out in practice. Several mechanisms can be identified.
First, instant assumptions and trust. Speaking Afaan Oromo or having an Oromo-sounding name can function as an immediate marker of belonging to those perceived to be in power or to dominant local networks. In practical terms, this may translate into less suspicion at checkpoints, smoother interactions with local officials, and faster access to services or informal cooperation. The mechanism is not necessarily explicit or consciously articulated as “I will help you because you are Oromo.” Rather, it often operates at a subconscious level: “You are one of us.”
Second, gatekeeping and risk management. In a tense political climate, identity markers can become proxies for risk assessment. Accents or names associated with non-Oromo backgrounds may trigger additional scrutiny, as illustrated in the examples above. In response, some individuals strategically switch languages or adjust their names to minimize friction. In such contexts, silence or code-switching becomes a survival strategy. When linguistic adaptation is driven primarily by fear or precaution rather than convenience, it signals deeper structural imbalances.
Third, network effects. Power rarely operates only through formal hierarchies; it circulates through personal and professional networks. A substantial body of comparative research shows that employment opportunities, contracts, permits, and informal protection often move along ethnic or linguistic lines, particularly in environments where institutions are weak. If Oromo elites dominate specific institutions, Oromo identity can become a form of social capital. The structural consequence is that others may perceive themselves as excluded, regardless of qualifications. Over time, such perceptions can generate cumulative resentment across groups.
Fourth, the shift from historical marginalization to perceived dominance. The emotional intensity of the current situation is rooted in competing historical narratives. Many Oromos argue that they experienced longstanding marginalization within the Ethiopian state. Political change therefore raised expectations of justice and structural correction. However, emerging evidence and personal testimonies suggest that significant segments of the population now interpret current developments not as national reconciliation but as ethnic reversal. Whether or not the original marginalization narrative is universally accepted, the perception of new inequities has become politically consequential.
The broader risks of such dynamics are well documented in international scholarship. When language or names begin to influence perceptions of safety and opportunity, meritocratic principles erode, national identity weakens, and interpersonal trust declines. Citizens increasingly interpret one another through ethnic categories rather than shared civic belonging. Historically, societies that institutionalize identity as the primary channel of access to resources often move from diversity toward fragmentation.
The core issue, therefore, is not about Oromo individuals as such. It concerns institutional arrangements that reward ethnic identification over citizenship. Systems structured in this way tend, over time, to undermine even those who appear to benefit from them in the short term. In my previous article, A Quiet Case of Ethnic Apartheid in Ethiopia: Internal Colonialism and Uneven Effects of Political, Social, and Economic Development on a Regional Basis, I elaborated extensively on the long-term consequences of this unsustainable trajectory.
Persistent and Pervasive Inequality and the Concept of “Oromo Privilege”
The current system may be analytically described, by some observers, as resembling a form of ethnic stratification that can be interpreted through the lens of internal colonialism. Internal colonialism is a theoretical framework used to explain how persistent and pervasive inequality can be reproduced within a sovereign state, even in the absence of foreign rule. In such cases, domination is exercised internally through political control, institutional arrangements, and asymmetrical access to resources and representation. The “internal colony,” in this formulation, consists of regions or populations that experience structural disadvantage relative to those aligned with the dominant political center.
Within this framework, the notion of “Oromo privilege” has emerged as a contested analytical term. By analogy to “white privilege”—often defined as the ability of dominant racial groups to maintain elevated social status in ways that obscure structural inequality—“Oromo privilege” may be tentatively defined as a perceived set of institutional advantages disproportionately benefiting members of a politically dominant ethnic group, particularly its elites (see Delgado & Stefancic, 2001; Harris, 1995; Lund, 2010). The term does not refer to inherent characteristics of individuals, but to systemic patterns of access, presumed belonging, informal protection, and social credibility that may accompany alignment with centers of power.
Critics argue that when a ruling political formation—such as the Prosperity Party and networks associated with Oromuma—is widely perceived as closely linked to a specific ethnic constituency, structural inequalities may be interpreted as ethnically structured. In such contexts, disparities in power, resources, prestige, and perceived social worth can become mapped onto ethnic categories. These dynamics are often reinforced not only through formal institutions but also through narratives, symbolic politics, and everyday administrative practices.
The purpose of this analysis is therefore partly to interrogate and deconstruct claims of ethnic hierarchy and cultural superiority. Historical experience demonstrates the dangers of institutionalizing such narratives. In Rwanda, for example, colonial racial classifications and constructed historical myths hardened distinctions between Hutu and Tutsi, contributing to long-term polarization and, ultimately, catastrophic violence. The broader lesson drawn in comparative scholarship is that politicized narratives of inherent group superiority can entrench divisions that later become extremely difficult to reverse.
It is essential to emphasize that contemporary scientific consensus rejects biological claims of ethnic or racial hierarchy. As Crane (1994) argued, there is no credible genetic evidence supporting differences in intelligence between races; race itself is fundamentally a socially and politically constructed category rather than a coherent biological one. Similarly, Gould (1996) stressed that human diversity cannot be meaningfully organized into hierarchical biological classifications.
Applied to the Ethiopian context, the central issue is not the intrinsic qualities of any ethnic group, but the structural risks posed by political systems perceived to privilege identity over equal citizenship. When institutions are widely viewed as rewarding ethnic alignment rather than merit or civic belonging, social trust declines and zero-sum competition intensifies. Over time, such perceptions—regardless of how they are interpreted by different groups—can contribute to fragmentation rather than integration.
A sustainable path forward therefore requires moving beyond ethnicized narratives of superiority or victimhood and toward institutional reforms grounded in equal citizenship, transparency, and merit-based governance.
A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy and the So-Called Matthew Effect
It is widely recognized that individuals and groups who begin with structural advantages are more likely to excel across multiple domains. The so-called Matthew Effect—the idea that “the rich get richer and the poor get poorer”—is relevant in this regard. In Outliers (2008), Gladwell argues that success is rarely accidental; it is shaped by cumulative advantages such as family background, cultural legacies, institutional support, and differentiated opportunities. Processes such as selection, streaming, and unequal exposure to resources amplify early advantages over time.
A well-known example is the selection of youth hockey players in Canada. Sociologist Robert Merton described such dynamics as a self-fulfilling prophecy: an initially arbitrary or even mistaken assumption produces behaviors that eventually make the assumption appear true. In the Canadian hockey case, older children within the same age cohort are more likely to be selected as “talented,” simply because they are more physically mature. Once selected, they receive better coaching, more practice, and greater encouragement—advantages that reinforce and validate the original, flawed assessment. As Merton observed, the apparent confirmation of the original judgment perpetuates the initial error.
These mechanisms also operate at the group level, including along ethnic, gender, or national lines. One related psychological concept is stereotype threat: members of stigmatized groups may underperform in academic or professional settings partly because they internalize negative stereotypes. Anticipating poor performance generates stress, which in turn interferes with cognition and achievement. Research has shown that such effects can influence not only racial minorities in Western contexts, but also girls, persons with disabilities, and older individuals.
When low expectations become institutionalized—whether explicitly or implicitly—they can produce long-term structural consequences. Individuals who repeatedly encounter limited expectations may gradually adjust their aspirations downward. Over time, this process generates what appears to be evidence of group-based inferiority, when in fact it reflects unequal treatment and opportunity. These are subtle but powerful mechanisms through which inequality reproduces itself.
Closely related is what educators call the Pygmalion effect (or Rosenthal effect), the phenomenon whereby higher expectations lead to improved performance. Conversely, the Golem effect refers to the decline in performance that follows from low expectations. Both are forms of self-fulfilling prophecy. When individuals are labeled as capable and are treated accordingly, they tend to internalize those positive expectations and perform better. When they are labeled as inferior or less deserving, performance often declines in line with those diminished expectations. These dynamics have been widely documented in educational and organizational settings.
In the Ethiopian context, these concepts offer a framework for examining how differential expectations placed on ordinary citizens—or on those perceived to belong to “the wrong” ethnic group—may shape long-term outcomes. If political elites, administrators, or economic actors implicitly assign lower competence or legitimacy to certain groups, the resulting disparities in access, encouragement, and institutional trust can translate into measurable differences in achievement.
The broader concern is that material advantages accumulated by politically connected elites may be converted into durable group-based inequalities, particularly in education and economic opportunity. When resources are unevenly distributed along identity lines, cumulative advantage effects intensify over time.
Comparative historical experience suggests that systems rooted in chauvinism or exclusive privilege—whether ethnic, regional, or ideological—ultimately undermine national cohesion. Sustainable governance requires moving away from identity-based entitlement and toward equal citizenship, institutional accountability, and merit-based opportunity. The long-term stability of any political community depends not on the short-term consolidation of power by particular elites, but on the creation of inclusive systems that all citizens perceive as fair.
Ethnic Identity and Ethnic Manipulation: Collective Guilt Versus Individual Responsibility
As noted earlier, this analysis does not attempt to detail specific allegations concerning material resource misuse, corruption, military conduct, or institutional malfunction. Rather, it seeks to interpret broader structural patterns. One such pattern may be described as the politicization of ethnic identity—manifested, for example, in forms of ethnicizedgatekeeping, where language, names, and perceived affiliation shape access to opportunity and protection.
When political authority becomes closely associated with a particular ethnic narrative, concerns often arise about long-term national cohesion. Speculation about state restructuring, symbolic territorial claims, or ethnically framed political projects reflects deeper anxieties about belonging and sovereignty. Whether or not such fears are empirically substantiated in every respect, their presence in public discourse signals declining trust across communities.
Comparative political research shows that divide-and-rule strategies and discourses of group superiority frequently produce destabilizing consequences. Informal interviews with Ethiopian scholars and observers suggest that political rhetoric—both in official settings and in affiliated social media spaces—sometimes includes derogatory language about other ethnic communities. Such narratives, when normalized, risk entrenching perceptions of hierarchy and humiliation. Historical experience demonstrates that sustained dehumanizing rhetoric can create permissive environments for discrimination and violence.
The warning often attributed to George Santayana—“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”—is frequently invoked in such contexts. While rhetorically powerful, the deeper lesson is empirical: political systems that institutionalize humiliation, confiscatory settlements, or unchecked concentration of power often generate cycles of instability. This pattern has appeared across diverse historical settings.
The manipulation of ethnic identity has been studied extensively in political science and sociology. In the case of Rwanda, colonial administrations institutionalized rigid ethnic categories, reinforcing distinctions between Hutu and Tutsi that had previously been more fluid. Subsequent political transformations deepened these divisions rather than dissolving them, contributing to catastrophic violence in 1994. Scholars such as Scott Straus and others have argued that large-scale ethnic violence is frequently elite-driven. Fearonand Laitin (2000), for example, emphasize the strategic construction and mobilization of ethnic identities by elites, often in pursuit of intra-elite competition or political consolidation. In such scenarios, ordinary citizens may follow leaders out of fear, coercion, or localized grievances rather than deep ideological commitment.
This raises the difficult question of responsibility. Political theorist Hannah Arendt, in her reflections on post-war Germany, warned against conflating collective guilt with individual responsibility. She described the tendency of entire populations to claim generalized guilt—while specific perpetrators evade accountability—as a form of moral confusion. From this perspective, guilt properly belongs to those who commit, authorize, or directly enable wrongdoing. Broadly assigning guilt to entire communities risks obscuring individual accountability and may itself perpetuate injustice.
In the Ethiopian context, debates about collective responsibility are highly contentious. It is analytically problematic to attribute the actions of political parties, armed movements, or state institutions to all members of an ethnic community. Individuals differ in their political views, levels of influence, and degrees of freedom. Many may themselves live under conditions of fear or constraint. Moral and legal responsibility, in its strict sense, attaches to agents who act, command, or knowingly collaborate—not to those who merely share an identity label.
At the same time, political philosophers have long debated whether communities bear forms of moral responsibility distinct from legal guilt. While collective guilt as a legal category is generally rejected, moral responsibility may encompass expectations of dissent, civic engagement, or refusal to endorse harmful policies carried out in one’s name. The question is not whether an entire group is culpable, but whether members of a political community have ethical obligations to oppose injustice when possible.
Ultimately, sustainable peace requires rejecting both ethnic chauvinism and blanket ethnic blame. Systems that reward identity over citizenship undermine social trust, but so too do narratives that ascribe inherent guilt to entire communities. The challenge is to hold specific actors accountable while preserving the principle of equal moral worth among citizens.
As David Risser and others have observed, some conception of moral responsibility is constitutive of social life. Societies cannot function without norms that distinguish right from wrong and assign accountability accordingly. Yet extending these norms from individuals to groups remains philosophically complex and politically sensitive. A careful balance is therefore required: accountability without collective stigmatization; critique of power without ethnic essentialization; and reform grounded in shared citizenship rather than inherited blame.
Finally, this should be understood as a wake-up call—these are matters of real and growing concern for people living in Ethiopia and in the diaspora. At the same time, it is essential to state clearly that Oromos as a whole should not be held collectively responsible for the actions of political elites who claim to act in their name. Collective blame obscures individual agency and undermines the very principles of justice being invoked.
That said, the question of moral responsibility cannot be dismissed. As David Risser notes, the core elements of moral responsibility are deeply embedded in the fabric of every society; they are constitutive of social life itself. Without some shared understanding that individuals and communities are accountable for actions carried out in their name, no society can sustain moral coherence.
While there is broad—often implicit—agreement about how moral responsibility applies to individuals, extending this concept to groups remains philosophically contested. The challenge is to distinguish clearly between legal guilt, which must remain individual, and broader civic or moral responsibility, which may involve speaking out, dissenting, or refusing to legitimize injustice. Navigating this distinction carefully is essential if accountability is to be pursued without reinforcing cycles of collective accusation and ethnic polarization.
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