When Liberation Becomes a Cage: Eritrea’s Unlearned Lessons
Eritrea’s tragic trajectory—after one of the most heroic and costly struggles for independence in modern African history—remains one of the continent’s most heartbreaking stories. By 1991, when Eritrea finally achieved freedom, the lessons of post‑colonial governance were no longer abstract. They had unfolded across Africa and the Global South in full view. Yet, despite these warnings, Eritrea’s leadership repeated the very mistakes that had already doomed so many nations: one‑party rule, militarized politics, and the personalization of power.
Eritreans had watched these patterns emerge elsewhere. We saw how authoritarianism corrodes institutions, how militarization suffocates civic life, and how unchecked power hollows out even the most promising states. There was a quiet but resolute belief that Eritrea would be different—that our suffering had endowed us with the wisdom to avoid the pitfalls that had ensnared others. We believed we knew better.
But the world around us sent a different message. President Bill Clinton’s “African Renaissance” narrative elevated leaders like Uganda’s Yoweri Museveni, Rwanda’s Paul Kagame, Ethiopia’s Meles Zenawi, and Eritrea’s Isaias Afwerki as visionaries of a new African dawn. Eritreans absorbed this praise eagerly, interpreting Western approval as validation that our leadership—and therefore our future—was on the right path.
History, however, has a way of humbling early enthusiasm. Accolades granted without hindsight often age poorly. At best, they prove premature; at worst, they become complicit in later tragedy. In both eras, Western praise created a halo effect that shielded leaders from scrutiny, emboldened authoritarian tendencies, and obscured warning signs that ordinary Africans, including Eritreans, were beginning to perceive.
When I say “we,” I refer to Eritreans who were old enough to vote, fight, and be recognized as adults under the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child. We understood the forces that had shattered other nations. We knew why some states collapsed while others endured. Yet despite this knowledge, Eritrea’s leadership—and ultimately its people—repeated the very errors that had already destroyed so many of our neighbors.
This is the painful truth we must confront: How did we arrive at the very place we once vowed never to reach? How did a people forged in struggle, shaped by sacrifice, and united by purpose recreate the very systems they fought to escape?
A Forgotten History: The Promise of Eritrea
Imagine Eritrea in 1952: Africa’s second‑most industrialized territory after South Africa. A country with a diversified industrial base, a multilingual and vibrant press, competitive political parties, an independent judiciary, a functioning parliament, and a government that consistently balanced its budget.
This was not a dream of modernity—it was a lived reality. Eritreans carried within living memory the experience of a society where institutions functioned, civic life was pluralistic, and the rule of law had meaning. Even after decades of war and Ethiopian rule shattered much of that infrastructure, many believed this memory would serve as a foundation for a post‑independence renaissance.
Eritrea was meant to be Africa’s redemption story—a living refutation of the narrative that the continent is destined for failure. It was supposed to prove that nothing about Africa or Africans is inherently broken and that with principled leadership and collective resolve, a nation can reclaim its dignity and rightful place in the world.
Instead, Eritrea became a cautionary tale.
From Liberation to Authoritarianism
Eritrea entered independence with unity and hope, believing that the same qualities—discipline, sacrifice, and cohesion—that sustained the liberation struggle would guide the nation toward peace and democracy. But like so many African states, Eritrea’s leaders failed to safeguard the democratic principles that could have ensured its success.
The Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) transformed seamlessly into the ruling elite. The People’s Front for Democracy and Justice (PFDJ), presented as a new political front, was in reality the EPLF under a different name. The structures, ideology, and political culture remained unchanged.
- The democratic transition evaporated.
- Political pluralism was dismissed as dangerous.
- The constitution was shelved.
- Independent media was crushed.
- National service became indefinite.
- The state centralized every resource, every institution, and every narrative.
- Eritrea did not fail because it lacked vision. It failed because it clung to an outdated one.
The Blind Spot: Reverence for the Liberation Struggle
The greatest obstacle to Eritrea’s political maturation was not external pressure or geopolitical isolation—it was the sanctification of the liberation leadership. For many Eritreans, criticizing the post‑independence government felt like dishonoring the memory of our martyrs. The fighters were not merely leaders; they were symbols of sacrifice, embodiments of national identity. To question them was to question Eritrea itself.
This reverence created a dangerous blind spot. It shielded the leadership from scrutiny precisely when scrutiny was most needed. Across Africa, liberation credentials had already proven insufficient to guarantee just governance. Human nature does not transform simply because one once fought for a noble cause.
Liberation legitimacy is not a lifetime mandate.
The Way Forward: Breaking the Spell of Liberation
Eritrea’s tragedy is neither inevitable nor irreversible. But recovery requires a profound shift in national consciousness. Eritreans must accept a difficult truth: liberation heroes are not infallible, and legitimacy earned in war does not grant perpetual authority in peace. No leader—no matter how revered—should be exempt from accountability.
A new political culture must emerge, one that values:
- Inclusive governance
- Transparent institutions
- Constitutional rule
- Independent media
- Protection of dissent
Eritrea needs a national dialogue that is honest about the past, courageous in the present, and ambitious about the future. We cannot move forward until we disentangle our national identity from the mythology of the liberation era.
This work begins with thought, with writing, and with the courage to speak publicly about what many still whisper in private. Eritrean intellectuals must continue writing responsibly and consistently. We need platforms where ideas can be exchanged, challenged, and refined. The era of isolated voices shouting into the void must end. Eritrea’s future will be shaped by communities of thinkers who meet in public, argue in good faith, and build something together.
Conclusion: The Reckoning
Eritrea’s failure to learn from the mistakes of its neighbors was not simply a repetition of history—it was a refusal to confront human nature. The belief that liberation credentials could substitute for democratic safeguards proved fatal. Yet the clarity that existed in 1991 still exists today. Nothing prevents us from seeing now what we should have seen then.
If Eritreans can finally accept that even the most heroic leaders are vulnerable to the corruptions of power, then the long, necessary work of rebuilding the nation we fought for with such extraordinary courage can truly begin.
The thirty years of armed struggle will always be part of Eritrea’s story. But it is the thirty‑four years of post‑independence suffering that demand our attention. To reclaim Eritrea’s future, we must confront the painful truths of our past and hold those responsible accountable.
This reckoning is not an act of betrayal. It is the first step toward building the Eritrea we once dreamed of—and still can.
To Contact The Author: weriz@yahoo.com
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