The older Ethiopian generation must stand tall by not surrendering their destinies to the authoritarian savages. They should have hope as the younger generation that tomorrow might be better despite Abiy’s brutal regime violating the rights of the citizens.

Aby Ahmed has been able to silence the older generation using violence, assassinations, arrests and intimidation as a method of ensuring they don’t keep the government accountable. They have been dying in silence, in fear, in despair, just because one man doesn’t want to be challenged. It is time to stand strong, it is time to say no to fear, it is time to put Ethiopia first and say no to the tyrannical ruler Aby Ahmed. If the younger generation can do it why not the older generation.

Every generation is eventually confronted with a defining political question. It is the kind of question that determines whether history remembers its people as defenders of freedom or as silent witnesses to oppression. Ethiopia’s older generation now faces one of those defining moments.

The question is simple, yet profound: Will experience be used to defend the future, or will fear continue to protect authoritarianism?

For decades, Ethiopia’s older generation has lived through revolutions, military governments, constitutional transitions, political reforms, ethnic conflicts, economic crises, and repeated promises of national renewal. Few generations anywhere in Africa have accumulated as much political experience.

Yet experience alone is meaningless if it does not become wisdom.

Wisdom demands the courage to recognize when a government has abandoned the principles it once claimed to defend.

It demands the willingness to say, “Enough.”

Today, many Ethiopians argue that the country’s political environment has become increasingly intolerant of dissent. Critics point to arrests, intimidation of political opponents, restrictions on independent voices, and recurring conflicts as signs of a government that prefers control over accountability.

Whether one supports or opposes Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, one uncomfortable reality cannot be ignored.

A democracy cannot flourish if criticism is treated as betrayal.

A nation cannot become stronger by making its citizens afraid to speak.

Fear may create temporary obedience.

But it never creates lasting legitimacy.

This is why the older generation occupies such an important place in Ethiopia’s political future.

They have seen enough history to know that no government remains in power forever.

Every empire believed it would last forever.

Every authoritarian government believed it was indispensable.

History proved every one of them wrong.

The tragedy is that societies often realize this only after paying enormous human, economic, and psychological costs.

The older generation understands those costs better than anyone.

They have buried friends.

They have lost relatives.

They have watched governments rise and collapse.

They know what political violence looks like long before television cameras arrive.

That experience should become Ethiopia’s greatest political resource—not its greatest silence.

Unfortunately, fear has become one of authoritarianism’s most effective weapons.

Fear convinces people that remaining silent guarantees safety.

Fear whispers that resistance changes nothing.

Fear teaches citizens to lower their expectations until injustice becomes ordinary.

But history repeatedly teaches a different lesson.

Silence rarely protects people.

Instead, silence often gives authoritarian systems more confidence to expand their power.

Every unchecked abuse becomes permission for another abuse.

Every ignored injustice creates room for another injustice.

Every silent citizen unintentionally strengthens the machinery of fear.

This is how authoritarianism survives—not simply through force, but through resignation.

Perhaps the most dangerous victory an authoritarian leader can achieve is not defeating the opposition.

It is convincing ordinary citizens that opposition is useless.

That psychological surrender is often more powerful than military victory.

And once a society begins accepting injustice as normal, rebuilding democratic culture becomes far more difficult.

This is why Ethiopia’s older generation must rediscover its political voice.

Not through violence.

Not through revenge.

Not through hatred.

But through moral courage.

Because courage is contagious.

One citizen speaking encourages another.

One community demanding accountability inspires another.

One generation refusing fear teaches future generations that freedom has value.

This raises an important philosophical question.

What is the responsibility of those who have witnessed history?

Is it enough simply to survive difficult political periods?

Or is survival accompanied by a duty to ensure younger generations inherit something better?

Many older Ethiopians understandably fear instability.

They remember civil wars.

They remember famine.

They remember political uncertainty.

No one should dismiss those fears.

They are rooted in real experience.

But another difficult question must also be asked.

Does avoiding today’s confrontation simply postpone tomorrow’s crisis?

Can peace built upon fear remain genuine peace?

Or does suppressed frustration eventually explode into even greater instability?

History suggests that societies delaying necessary political conversations often pay higher prices later.

Problems ignored rarely disappear.

They usually grow.

The younger generation increasingly demands transparency, accountability, equal justice, and democratic participation.

Their political language differs from previous generations.

They communicate digitally.

They organize differently.

They question authority more openly.

Some see this as disrespect.

Others see it as democratic maturity.

Regardless of perspective, one fact remains.

No nation can permanently govern against the aspirations of its youth.

The future always belongs to those who will live in it longest.

This does not mean younger citizens possess all the answers.

Far from it.

Youth often brings energy without experience.

Older generations possess experience that younger people desperately need.

Imagine what Ethiopia could become if youthful courage combined with historical wisdom.

Instead of generations working against one another, they could become partners in rebuilding democratic institutions.

The older generation has something irreplaceable.

Credibility.

When respected elders refuse to normalize authoritarian behavior, their voices carry moral weight.

When community leaders speak honestly, people listen.

When religious leaders defend justice, society pays attention.

When parents refuse to teach fear to their children, democracy gains another generation of defenders.

This is why authoritarian governments often fear respected elders.

Not because they carry weapons.

But because they carry legitimacy.

Moral authority cannot easily be imprisoned.

Ideas cannot easily be assassinated.

Truth does not disappear because critics are silenced.

If anything, suppressed truth often returns stronger over time.

Another question deserves reflection.

How should future generations remember today’s elders?

As people who remained silent because they feared consequences?

Or as citizens who demonstrated that patriotism sometimes means questioning those in power?

There is a profound difference between loyalty to a government and loyalty to a nation.

Governments come and go.

Nations remain.

Leaders change.

Citizens remain.

Political parties disappear.

History remains.

To love Ethiopia is not necessarily to agree with every decision made by its leaders.

True patriotism often requires holding leaders accountable precisely because one cares about the country’s future.

Accountability is not sabotage.

Criticism is not treason.

Questioning power is not hatred.

These are essential elements of every healthy political system.

Without them, mistakes multiply because no one feels empowered to challenge poor decisions.

Every government benefits from criticism when that criticism is constructive.

Only insecure leadership fears every opposing voice.

As Ethiopia continues navigating political uncertainty, one lesson from history deserves repeating.

Authoritarian governments rarely collapse because citizens suddenly become fearless.

They change when enough ordinary people gradually decide that fear will no longer determine every political decision.

That transformation begins quietly.

One conversation.

One community.

One family.

One citizen choosing conscience over intimidation.

The older generation has already demonstrated extraordinary resilience throughout Ethiopia’s turbulent history.

Now comes perhaps its greatest challenge.

Transform resilience into civic courage.

Transform experience into leadership.

Transform memory into wisdom.

Because the future of Ethiopia cannot rest solely on the shoulders of its youth.

Every generation has a responsibility to defend the freedoms it hopes future generations will enjoy.

And perhaps the most important question of all is this:

When history writes the story of this generation, will it say that fear defeated courage—or that ordinary Ethiopians, young and old alike, finally decided that love for their country was greater than fear of those who governed it?

That is not merely a political question.

It is a moral question.

It is a historical question.

And ultimately, it is a question every Ethiopian must answer for themselves.