The haunting words of Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel continue to resonate with chilling clarity: “’Never Again’ is more than a slogan; it is a prayer, a promise, a vow.” Yet more than seven decades after the Holocaust, those words feel increasingly like an echo—reverberating, but rarely heeded.
December 9, 1948, marked a milestone in the global commitment to prevent mass atrocities: the adoption of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. It was the relentless advocacy of Raphael Lemkin, a Polish Jewish lawyer and Holocaust survivor, that brought the concept of genocide into international law.
The world now solemnly commemorates the Holocaust through institutions such as the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, yet the atrocities of the past are not confined to any single moment or place. The phrase “Never Again,” once uttered in the aftermath of Auschwitz, has since echoed in the hills of Rwanda, the killing fields of Cambodia, and the camps of Myanmar.
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At this year’s 31st commemoration of the 1994 Rwandan genocide, held both at the African Union’sMandela Hall and at the United Nations Headquarter, UN Secretary-General António Guterres gave a candid acknowledgment: the world, including the United Nations, had failed. “It was a collective failure,” he said, referring to the international community’s inertia as over 800,000 Rwandans were slaughtered in just 100 days.
Echoing Wiesel, who insisted that silence in the face of evil “hurts the victims more than the cruelty of perpetrators,” Guterres renewed his call for all countries to ratify the Genocide Convention and uphold their duty to protect populations from atrocities.
Such failures are not anomalies—they are patterns. Genocide is rarely a surprise. It is preceded by warning signs: hate speech, dehumanization, systemic discrimination, and the erosion of rights. And yet, the international response remains chronically delayed, reactive rather than preventative. The world too often watches—sometimes with indifference, sometimes with geopolitical calculation—as atrocities unfold.
The Armenian and Assyrian genocides of the early 20th century, which targeted Christian communities during the final years of the Ottoman Empire, are worth mentioning. Despite the scale and savagery of the violence, international recognition took decades, coming only after generations had passed and communities had been decimated.
The Assyrian, Aramean, and Chaldean peoples suffered mass killings and forced deportations. Global powers, embroiled in war or restrained by political interests, largely turned a blind eye. The inertia that defined that era has resurfaced in our time, including in the failure to prevent or even adequately respond to the military-led atrocities committed against Myanmar’s Rohingya Muslims.
Today, past genocides are marked with memorials and moments of silence, even as fresh atrocities emerge. The rhetoric of “Never Again” is repeated with ceremonial solemnity, yet it fails to stem the tide of violence that still targets communities based on their religion, ethnicity, or identity.
This year’s Rwandan genocide commemoration at the AU underscored the complexities of contemporary geopolitics. In a widely reported move, the African Union’s newly elected Commissioner asked Israeli Ambassador to Ethiopia, Avraham Nigusse, to leave Mandela Hall. The request followed objections by member states, reportedly unwilling to sit alongside the ambassador. The act unfolded against the backdrop of intensifying allegations of war crimes and possible genocide committed by Israeli forces in Gaza under the Netanyahu government.
Whether the ambassador’s expulsion reflects a principled stand against ongoing atrocities or a symbolic gesture shaped by political alliances remains unclear. But it exposed a growing schism between commemorating genocide and actively confronting its present-day manifestations.
In reflection of the recent commemoration of the Rwandan genocide, former Ethiopian President Sahle-Work Zewde issued a pointed reminder: remembrance should not be passive.“It is a resolute vow of ‘Never Again,’ a clear message that no one possesses the authority to extinguish a life based on race,” she wrote on X.Known for her diplomatic restraint, Sahle-Work’s tone carried a warning. She concluded her statement with, “This capacity for cruelty is not limited to somewhere else.”
Her words resonated amid growing concerns about Ethiopia’s own trajectory. A year earlier, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed (PhD)and his delegation visited Kigali’s Genocide Memorial, encountering the harrowing accounts of the atrocities committed against the Tutsi population. But whether the visit prompted genuine reflection or meaningful policy introspection remains a question.
Shortly after the trip, delegation member Addisu Arega sparked controversy by drawing a parallel between Rwanda’s history and Ethiopia’s political landscape—suggesting, without evidence, that Tutsi elites bore partial responsibility for the genocide carried out against their own people. The statement, made in response to a call by an MP for the Prime Minister’s resignation, ignited backlash and alarm.
The former President’s unease is far from baseless. Ethiopia has repeatedly appeared on international watchlists for atrocity risk.
The Early Warning Project, which analyzes the likelihood of mass atrocities in more than 160 countries, ranked Ethiopia sixth on its 2023–24 list of nations most at risk of new mass killings—a startling position for a country that once promised democratic renewal.
Some go further, contending that genocide is already taking place within the itsborders. The country already bears the scars of a past marked by political violence, including the Derg regime’s Red Terror. Yet more recent and deeply polarizing claims of genocide have surfaced—this time involving Ethiopia’s own internal conflicts.
Activists representing both Tigrayan and Amhara communities have alleged that acts of genocide have been committed against their people. While scholars and institutions caution against conflating atrocity crimes with genocide without rigorous evidence, a number of human rights experts argue that the threshold has been crossed.
Among them is Yared Hailemariam, executive director of the Ethiopian Human Rights Defenders Center (EHRDC). Speaking at a recent Zoom conference titled ‘Save Ethiopia’, Yared described what he called “an unfolding genocide.”
“Genocide in Ethiopia is not just a looming threat. It is a reality unfolding in silence,” Yared said. Hecited multiple incidents—including the 2022 killing of more than 400 Amhara and Orthodox Christians in Toile kebele, Oromia, and the targeted violence that followed the assassination of singer and activist HachaluHundessa in 2020—as examples of genocidal attacks. These, he said, are not isolated incidents but part of a pattern consistent with genocidal intent.
Other examples frequently cited include the 2020 Mai-Kadra massacre, allegedly carried out by Tigrayan forces against Amhara civilians, and the Axum massacre, reportedly committed by Eritrean troops against Tigrayan residents—both documented by international human rights organizations. Observers note that several of these events exhibit elements consistent with the United Nations’ framework for recognizing the ten stages of genocide, from dehumanization and polarization to systematic extermination.
Under the definition proposed by Lemkin—who coined the term “genocide” during World War II—the crime involves acts committed with the intent “to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group.” By that measure, scholars and watchdog groups argue that the threshold may already have been crossed in Ethiopia.
The question now facing Ethiopia—and the world—is whether Wiesel’s enduring warning is becoming a hollow refrain. “Never Again” has long been a declaration of moral resolve. The international community continues to commemorate past atrocities with ceremony and conviction—but, too often, it fails to act on the warning signs of those unfolding in real time.Amid fresh reports of mass killings, ethnic targeting, and growing international silence, the phrase risks becoming, once again, a PostScript.
