How Ethiopia avoided colonization in the late 19th century but then lagged behind in the 20th century
Lessons in stateness, (failed) modernization, and economic (under)development
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Let’s be blunt. It’s fair to say that, relative to other African counties, contemporary Ethiopia and Liberia have little to show for not having been colonized in the late 19th century. Having avoided the deep humiliation and diurnal horrors of colonialism, one would’ve expected both countries to successfully go about economic, social, and political modernization throughout the 20th century on their own terms. Instead, the two countries currently lag Continental averages in per capita income and myriad human development outcomes. They’ve also struggled to build coherent states that can create enabling environments for human flourishing.
Therefore, in discussing how a state like Ethiopia avoided colonization in the late 19th century, it’s also worth interrogating how it then managed to lag behind for much of the 20th century. This post does that.
I: Learning to love and to protect sovereignty
The question of how Ethiopia avoided colonization ineluctably focuses attention on the 19th century European “scramble for Africa.” Along these lines, everyone knows about the battle of Adwa during which an Ethiopian army famously defeated invading Italians. However, Ethiopia’s ability to avoid European colonization was due to a lot more than just the ability to win a single battle. As part of the wider Nile Basin/Red Sea state system, the state had for centuries withstood external threats of conquest and domination. For example, between 1529-1543 the Adal Sultanate conquered and occupied much of Ethiopia before being repelled (with the help of the Portuguese; the Sultanate had help from the Ottomans).
Perhaps more than the victory against the Italians at Adwa, the more decisive conflict for Ethiopia’s avoidance of colonization was that with the Khedivate of Egypt. Had Yohannes IV lost to Ismail I in the mid 1870s, Ethiopia would have likely entered the 1880s under Egyptian rule, and therefore suffered Sudan’s fate as part of an Anglo-Egyptian condominium thereafter.
All this to say that Ethiopia avoided European colonization in the late 19th century due to its ability to survive (and at times thrive) within the highly competitive Nile Basin/Red Sea state system over several centuries. The accumulated history of stateness mattered a great deal in shaping the set of possible outcomes in the late 19th century.1 Internalized ideas about stateness (including its sacred origins and sense of mission to preserve it) set a high premium on sovereignty and motivated both Ethiopia’s ruling elites and masses (or a section of them) to cherish and be willing to sacrifice a lot to protect their sovereignty.
The history of stateness also curated important symbols of civilizational achievements (imperial conquests, culture of literacy, state religion, elite formation, monumental architecture, etc) that made the most likely successful invaders (Britain and France) to view the state as an equal of sorts, albeit one that was unusual given its geographical location (over five centuries of stories of King Prester John helped). Simply put, Ethiopia was different. Robert Napier’s troops successfully marched all the way to Magdala with minimal losses and then promptly left — the British didn’t consider occupying Ethiopia as important for securing Nile waters. Plus they had Egypt, Sudan, and Aden to secure logistical links to India. On their part, the French were content with securing Djibouti as a stop on the way to Indochina (especially after the Fashoda incident stopped eastward expansion of the French empire).
Most importantly, stateness allowed Ethiopia to not lag too far behind (relative to European and other Red Sea states) with regard to both military technology and diplomatic relations. Due to its centuries of contact with the outside world, the Ethiopian state had the know-how to import modern firearms and military organizational structures (including advisers) and deploy them in battle against both domestic and foreign enemies. Meanwhile, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church served as a conduit for alliances with Christian Europe. And after Islam swept through northeast Africa and the wider Red Sea region, Ethiopia styled itself as a Christian outpost surrounded by a sea of “pagans” and Muslims (the Sudanese, Egyptians, Turks, and Horn Sultanates). Centuries of embassies in Christian Europe also enabled the curation of knowledge regarding how to manage the geopolitical dance in Horn between the Ottomans (including the Khedivate of Egypt), Britain, France, Sudan’s Mahdist State, and Italy.
Though not decisive to outcomes, Ethiopia also got lucky with geography (the role of geography in Ethiopia’s ability to avoid foreign domination is hotly debated). To be clear, geography wasn’t destiny. But on numerous occasions it granted Ethiopians important tactical advantages. Having the core of the state up in the northern highlands meant that invading armies — whether by land or from the sea — had to traverse (mostly) sparsely populated lowlands before scaling the high mountains. Having advanced notice and the ability to stage battles at narrow passes gave the Ethiopians significant advantage. Furthermore, Ethiopian’s ability to lean on the terrain in deploying guerrilla tactics made it impossible for occupying forces (if it got to that) to fully impose their authority — as Ahmad ibn Ibrahim al-Ghazi found out in the lead up to his demise in 1543; and the Italians during their occupation:
No region of Ethiopia was entirely under Italian control- manifestations of resistance occurred throughout the country. The guerrilla warriors who formed bands to undertake operations against the Italians were concentrated in the northern provinces where Amharas formed the majority of the population. Known as Patriots (Amh. Arbaiiiiyoch) these fighters became legendary during the Italian occupation and have remained so ever since. The Patriots were able to maintain almost total control of several mountainous areas where Italian forces could only penetrate temporarily but could never predominate.2
The state’s overall economic geography was also favorable to maintaining sovereignty even when surrounded by enemies. Being a largely agrarian inland empire that wasn’t particularly reliant on seaborne trade meant that the state was resilient to the loss of ports like Massawa on the (would-be) Eritrean coast. Indeed, successive foreign occupiers of Massawa and other outlets (like Suakin, Tajura, Zeila, and later Djibouti and Assab) found themselves having to sue for peace with the Ethiopian state in order to serve as its gateway to international markets (the more things change…)
Ethiopia’s other bit of (earned) luck was in timing. First, for the purposes of repelling European colonialism, Emperor Menelik II (1889 to 1913) — a modernizing and expansionist state-builder with a brilliant politician for a wife (Empress Taytu) — was the right emperor at the right time:
Throughout his reign, as king and as emperor Menelik recognized the value of modern weaponry for internal and external political purposes. No slave to tradition, he made use of the new military technology brought into Ethiopia by an ever-growing stream of Europeans. As emperor, he was quick to apprehend the threat of Italian domination and realized that it could be fought only with its own weapons. He marshalled the resources of his empire and acted as a national statesman. His perspicacity saved Ethiopia from militant European imperialism, and his sage diplomacy consolidated and guaranteed the empire's sovereignty for at least one generation beyond his death in 1913.3
Second, the European “scramble for Africa” happened at the tail end of about a century of war and discord among the kingdoms and principalities within the empire (Zemene Mesafint, Era of the Princes). During this period, real power left the Nəgusä Nägäst (king of kings) and spread to the heads of the empire’s constituent kingdoms and principalities. It’s extremely unlikely that the titular emperors of the late Gondarine and Zemene Mesafint eras would’ve rallied enough subnational units towards the defense of the empire. For example, a counterfactual in which the Yejju rases were the ones rallying the empire against a foreign invasion — even under the great Ras Gugsa — would’ve probably yielded a different outcome. Consolidation of imperial authority — which began in fits and starts under Tewodros II (1855-1868) — made it possible for Menelik II to tie the last remaining loose ends and face the expected Italian invasion with a unified imperial army:
Menelik’s deployment showed that Ethiopia now had fewer and weaker dissidents, and that the neguse negest was essentially in full control for the first time since the sixteenth century. Regional ‘masters’, like ordinary soldiers, actually went on the expedition with the single purpose of repelling an external attack, looking to Menelik for leadership. They were keen to show their warriorhood and leadership qualities of networking, coordination and command of social support. Individual warriors were ready to show off their skills in horsemanship and daring actions, and their grooms and pages looking after their war materials, tents and pack animals hoped to attract attention as fighters as well.4
And then there was the magnificent symbolism of Adwa — which definitively settled the question of whether Ethiopia would be colonized.5
In hindsight, Ethiopia’s victory on March 1, 1896 almost looks inevitable. Starting with the battle of Amba Alagi and the siege of Mekelle, Menelik II’s tactical and strategic genius was on full display. The methodical northward advance and avoidance of unnecessary battles forced the Italians to march to his tune. This strategy was aided along by Italian impatience. Barely 26 years old, the newly unified Kingdom of Italy was in a hurry to be counted among European imperial powers. Orders from Rome forced Oreste Baratieri — who had the added problem of leading generals who were his social superiors and therefore disrespected him — to confront the Ethiopian military in a manner and at a time not of his choosing (although to be fair, he was never going to find an ideal time or location for battle). To complicate matters, the Italian generals’ spatial confusion and mixing up of place names meant that they couldn’t station their armies properly ahead of the battle. Thus the Italian troops stumbled into battle in the early hours of the morning after marching all night. Their lack of spatial awareness left different units divided and unable to get reinforcements once the fighting started.
Overall, it did not help matters that the Italians, having been distracted by campaigns in Somalia, were insufficiently attuned to both the degree of patriotism and military advancements in Ethiopia. As a result, they made two important miscalculations:
[they] underestimated the quality of Menelik’s troops and counted on help from the insurgent rases [nobles/princes]. This did not materialize. Menelik had in September 1895 issued a proclamation about the foreign menace which raised a wave of genuine patriotism among the tribes. It brought all his vassals to his side, and the army with which he awaited the Italian invasion included his own Shoan soldiers, the Harar troops under the faithful Ras Makonnen, Ras Mangasha’s men from Tigré, the Gojjam army, and the Galla cavalry.6
That said, the deciding factor in Adwa — just like for much of the late 19th century — was that the Ethiopians were militarily and politically prepared. The rearming with modern weapons had gone well, at times with help from the Italians (when both sides were pretending to adhere to the treaty of Wuchale). And having maneuvered to get all the important regional players on his side, Emperor Menelik II had assembled a multiethnic imperial army that reflected his achievement of imperial control to a degree that had eluded his predecessors for centuries. His ability to effectively model the empire’s sense of mission meant that Ethiopia would remain free in the age of empire…. well, until early 1937.
II: The grave consequences of missing the modernization boat in the early 20th century
Why did Ethiopia lag behind economically, politically (and ultimately militarily) in the 20th century given its seemingly new trajectory following the reigns of Tewodros II, Yohannes IV, and Menelik II? The simple answer is that Ethiopia failed to sufficiently modernize its economy, politics, and society.
In this regard, Ethiopia wasn’t unique on the African Continent. An important explanation for African underdevelopment over the last two centuries is that most of the Continent’s societies failed to modernize on their own terms. Most failed because they missed the Early Modern developments in the organizational means (e.g., stateness, traditions of literacy and organized mass learning, elite ideological and socio-cultural hegemony, etc) to import and adapt emerging technologies of government (e.g. constitutionalism) economic output (scientific rationality, jointly-owned inter generational large firms, optimally structured property rights), and defense (military technology).
With that in mind, it’s worth pointing out that an important lesson that those who only superficially read Walter Rodney miss is that it is the lagging behind on modernization that set the stage for the humiliating experiences under colonial and neo-colonial exploitation of the last 200 years. Therefore, it is important to read Rodney not exclusively as a moralizing polemicist (as preferred by most), but as an attempt at positive description of how African weaknesses in the Early Modern era — when everyone was adopting new technologies of government and mastery of the physical world — enabled subsequent humiliation and dispossession by foreigners.
For example, Rodney explicitly observes that productive technological transfer from Eurasia in the early modern era could have happened if there were African socio-economic structures capable of making use of that technology and internalizing it.
From an African perspective, it follows that the way to correct the accumulated mistakes of history on the Continent cannot be the standard perennial moralizing in the hope of changing foreigners’ character; while using Africans (cast as noble victims of history, of course) as a foil in self-indulgent political projects. Instead, what’s needed is a fair amount of internal reflection regarding when and why the proverbial rain started beating the region, followed by investments in the means of maximizing African agency on the world stage. That is the only way that African states and societies will be able to thrive on the grand stage of history on their own terms, and not predominantly feature as side plots in others’ history.
Which brings us back to Ethiopia. Why wasn’t aggressive modernization on the cards, especially after Adwa earned the empire recognition among the community of independent states?
Four main reasons come to mind. First, the military successes in the late 19th century against both domestic and foreign adversaries lulled core imperial elites into thinking that they’d always be able to buy military technology; and not have to invest in a (dual use) domestic industrial base (and all that was required in terms of social, political, and economic reforms):
The ease with which Menelik had obtained weapons led Ethiopians to conclude that the nation would always be able to purchase war supplies from eager salesmen. The leadership did not consider it necessary to build up an arms industry, with all the modernization and reorganization of society that such an effort would involve, but was content to foster the development of government and the traditional economy through the introduction of communications such as the railway, telephone, and telegraph. Competent and responsible Ethiopians could not foresee that defence costs would rise astronomically after the First World War; that the complexity of the new arms systems would require soldiers with a relatively high level of technical understanding; and that the changing political alliances and relationships of Europe would sharply reduce the availability of arms. Haile Sellasie I, therefore, found it impossible to defend his country against the mechanized Italian army; his illiterate soldiery could not fully exploit even the few modern weapons he had been able to acquire.7
And so when Fascist Italy came in the late 1930s to avenge Adwa, it found Ethiopia with less than 5 tanks, a joke of an Air Force, no radio communication, and generally technologically backward. Despite countless instances of individual valor and sense of mission to preserve Ethiopian sovereignty, collectively the empire was completely outmatched by the fascists.
Second, the emergent post-Adwa legitimation strategy — southward territorial expansion — hogged imperial attention at the expense of intensive modernization. Crucially, this clouded Ethiopian elite’s understanding of the urgent need for far-reaching reforms of the economy, politics, and social relations. For example, except for the railway to Djibouti and road links to Somalia, there was no investment in a national road network under Menelik II — including within the northern highlands! Basically, Emperor Menelik II was too distracted by imperial expansion and was bad at policy comms:
Menelik was a type belonging rather to the western business world, a pure-bred, hard-headed entrepreneur. He was keenly interested in foreign affairs, and his knowledge of the developments of European progress is commented on by almost every foreign visitor to his court. He even had advanced ideas about social reform, and decreed the abolition of slavery, the introduction of compulsory education, and the substitution of a new code for the old customary law. No doubt these would have been more effective had he personally supervised their execution ; as it was, he was usually too busy consolidating his frontiers; few of his subjects grasped the significance of his ideas, and any benefits derived from the changes lapsed in the turbulent years of his illness and of Lij Jasu’s short, eventful reign.8
With hindsight, things might have turned out differently if Menelik II and Tewodros II had swapped places in time. Despite his shaky grasp of foreign policy (see the debacle at Magdala), the latter had the right instincts on industrialization and would’ve likely accelerated Ethiopia’s modernization by being a better imperial ally to the early 20th century “Japanization” policy coalition within the elite class.
Third, with a deep and storied history comes the heavy weight of conservatism. Under the circumstances, it takes a lot of skill to modernize a society without breaking it. This is something that Haile Selassie, despite flashes here and there, simply couldn’t do. The church was too slow to move on modernization — which severely hampered the state’s ability to roll out modern mass education. Land reform was not on the cards, with the semi-feudal agrarian economy surviving into the 20th century mostly intact.
Despite centuries of a culture of elite literacy, there was virtually no human capital base for rapid industrialization. As late as 1941 Ethiopia’s literacy rate was barely 5%. While many Ethiopian elites could get a decent education, real mass education did not arrive until the 2000s. Ethiopia entered the 21st century with an astonishingly low adult literacy rate of 36%. Ominously, by mid-century the shoots of aid dependency were already visible:
During the remainder of the 1950s, with the help of foreign governments and advisers of several nationalities, five more colleges were established. Under USAID funding, the University of Oklahoma first set up an agricultural school at Jimma in 1953 and then opened an agricultural college at Alemaya near Harar in 1956. A public health college sponsored by UN agencies and USAID was opened at Gondar in 1954. In the same year the Swedish government founded a building technology institute in Addis Ababa. The two-year engineering college that began operation in Addis Ababa in 1952 was intended to be a faculty of Haile Selassie I University (HSIU) for which planning had already begun.9
In may ways, Emperor Selassie’s developmentalist strategies were inferior to his 19th century predecessors. Perhaps motivated by the desire to develop fast, or (more likely) a naive belief in the benevolence of foreigners (despite his experience with the Italians), Emperor Selassie did not embody a commitment to do things on Ethiopia’s terms. Part of the problem was that he, like all African elites at the time, was cross-pressured by tradition (and its sources of power and authority) and popular demands for rapid modernization. And like most African elites, Selassie avoided the difficult task of reconciling the two forces. Instead, he chose a schizophrenic existence of mostly outsourcing the modernization drive (and thinking behind it) to foreigners, while clinging to traditional sources of power and authority. This schizophrenic posture was a disaster. Consider education policy:
On the severe material and human shortcomings was grafted an educational policy that lacked direction and national objectives. According to many scholars, the main reason for the lack of a national direction is to be found in the decisive role that foreign advisors, administrators, and teachers played in the establishment and expansion of Ethiopia’s education system. That the curriculum tended to reflect at all levels courses offered in Western countries was a glaring proof of their harmful influence. As one author puts it, “appointed foreign advisors tended to think that what had proved successful in their countries would also benefit Ethiopian development”.
Finally, the imperial politics of ethnic exclusion (especially following the southern expansion) limited the spread of state authority and developmentalist investments in all Ethiopians. The core state elites remained fairly insular and chauvinistic vis-a-vis non-coethnics in the empire. This, in itself, reflected ignorance of history. Ethnic inclusion (even if coerced at the time) had produced Lalibela and the Yejju dynasty which preserved some semblance of imperial authority. In end, the system’s exclusionary rigidity led to the rise of the nationalisms of the 1960s-1970s, eventual overthrow of the emperor, and civil war. Contemporary Ethiopia — with its ethnicity-based subnational units — is still paying for the mistake of failing to invest in nation-building through inclusive modernization.
III: Conclusion
There is no deep mystery about political and economic underdevelopment on the African Continent. At a fundamental level, the story is one of repeated failures at critical junctures of history to develop mechanisms of organizing and protecting productive economic activity at scale. The resulting lag relative to other regions then yielded compounding effects over time. And in my view, the biggest driver of these regional failures to keep up has been the absence of historical self-awareness among Africa’s ruling elites. This reality has resulted in elites losing hegemonic legitimacy vis-a-vis their own people, having diminished agency on the world stage, and totally lacking in ambition. Given their important role in coordinating collective action and enforcing the norms that animate institutions, it’s impossible to go far with low-ambition elites.
With this in mind, the history of Ethiopia in the late 19th century teaches us what a sense of national mission — especially if modeled well by ambitious elites — can achieve. Ethiopia’s failure to build on Adwa and its rich history in the 20th century is also instructive. Lagging the rest of the world with regard to social, political, and economic development — as is currently happening in much of the Continent — leaves the region’s societies exposed to the specter of humiliating foreign dependence and exploitation for generations to come. In order to create an enabling environment for their people to flourish and to safeguard African agency on the world stage, African societies must focus on rapidly and unapologetically modernizing on their own terms. It is as simple as that.
In the final analysis, men like Menelik II and many members of the Independence Generation deserve credit for doing so much with so little. They were imperfect, for sure, and made their share of mistakes. But one cannot honestly fault them for lacking historical self-awareness, sense of mission, or ambition. In this regard they were heads and shoulders above the current crop of African leaders who, despite their relatively much richer (human capital) endowments, are arguably the most complacent ruling elites in the world.
Layers of Time (p. 227)
Ethiopian Warriorhood (p. 230)
The Battle of Adwa (Part II)
A History of Ethiopia (p. 143)
The Life and Times of Menilik II (p. 199)
A History of Ethiopia (p. 156)
Layers of Time (p. 257)
One of the problems is that the modern economic and military state have a lot of non-obvious interlocking parts. You pointed out the problem of base level literacy, but there’s a lot that goes with it. The Russian tsar freed the serfs because he needed citizen soldiers, not serfs, to win modern wars. The full package includes education, machine culture, transportation, social welfare, communications, research and research liaison and so on. The current US administration doesn’t realize this, so they’re trashing expensively built system components in pursuit of an economic fantasy out of Defoe or Verne. Ethiopia at least had an excuse.
I’ve been asking myself this question for a while now and this article just clarified a lot for me. Keep up with the good work, truly grateful for this.