Ethiopia’s status as one of the least urbanized countries in the world belies a concerning rise in disputes over land ownership, often along ethnic and religious lines, in its cities and towns. Although urban centers account for less than a quarter of the population, disputes over space and influence in Addis Ababa and other major towns and cities have grown increasingly visible in the past few years.
The disputes are tied to historical inequalities, economic factors, surging urban migration rates, and Ethiopia’s burgeoning youth population, and while experts say the contestation should be accommodated as a natural part of the urbanization and nation-building process, they also warn the situation is susceptible to manipulation and, if left unaddressed, could result in a political crisis.
Among those keeping a close watch on developments in quickly growing urban centers is Eyob Balcha Gebremariam (PhD), a research associate at the University of Bristol and an expert in development policy who recently published a research paper dubbed ‘Contested Urban Spaces in Ethiopia: A Synthesis of Case Studies in Dire Dawa, Hawassa, and Hossana’.
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The Reporter Magazine’s Yared Niguessie sat down with Eyob to get a better understanding of the drivers of these contests, their politicization, links to international and urban migration, and the pressing need to see past Addis Ababa in Ethiopia’s glacial drift away from rural living. EXCERPTS:
The Reporter Magazine: The politicization of urban ownership and urban contestation has been a contentious issue for over three decades. How does your recent research on urban contestations offer a fresh perspective?
Eyob Balcha (PhD): What distinguishes this study is its focus on cities beyond Addis Ababa—specifically secondary cities, which have historically been understudied. While Addis Ababa has drawn significant academic attention, examining secondary cities like Dire Dawa, Hawassa, and Hossana provides critical insights into the dynamics of political contestation in Ethiopia’s evolving urban landscape.
Dire Dawa, for instance, is unique as Ethiopia’s second federally chartered city. Its contested ownership—particularly between the Oromia and Somali Regional States—adds a layer of complexity to debates over territorial jurisdiction and identity.
Hawassa’s significance lies in its centrality to recent political transformations. The Sidama referendum, which led to the creation of Ethiopia’s newest regional state, fundamentally reshaped the federal structure. This marked the first time a regional state was established through a constitutional referendum, effectively dissolving the former Southern Nations, Nationalities, and Peoples’ Region (SNNPR) and spurring the formation of three new regions. Hawassa’s role in this process underscores how urban centers can catalyze systemic political change.
Hossana, though smaller in size, offers a distinct lens. Over the past two decades, it has emerged as a vibrant urban hub largely due to remittances from its diaspora community in South Africa. This economic dynamism, driven by migration, highlights how external financial flows influence local governance and claims to urban ownership.
Collectively, these case studies illuminate diverse drivers of contestation—from identity politics and federal restructuring to migration-driven economies. By shifting the focus beyond the capital, the research broadens our understanding of how Ethiopia’s urban spaces reflect and reshape the nation’s socio-political fabric.
What are the goals of your research? Why has urban contestation become a focal point for you at this particular moment?
Urbanization is a continuously evolving process. Although Ethiopia remains one of the least urbanized countries—with an urban population of only about 19 to 20 percent—the rate of urbanization is accelerating rapidly. Compared to many other African countries, the percentage is still low, but the pace at which urban centers are growing is striking.
We’re witnessing increasing migration from rural to urban areas, and small towns are expanding into larger urban centers. These towns are becoming key hubs for social, economic, and political interactions. All of this signals that urbanization—and, by extension, urban contestation—is an issue that demands closer study. It needs to be examined and explained so that we can develop a deeper and more comprehensive understanding of the changing urban landscape in Ethiopia.
In your research, you highlighted the role of youth in urban contestation. In what ways do you think the role of youth in these disputes could reshape the future political landscape in Ethiopia?
One key finding from our study is that almost all forms of urban contestation tend to mobilize young people to be at the forefront, particularly in political struggles. Given that Ethiopia has a predominantly young population, it’s no surprise that youth often lead these movements. However, what we’ve consistently observed is that while young people are mobilized, they rarely get the opportunity to set the agenda. More often than not, they are used as instruments of political instigation and end up either as victims or perpetrators of political violence. This pattern is not unique to Ethiopia. We see similar dynamics in Asia, across other African countries, in Latin America, and even in parts of Europe—where far-right political movements often emerge through the targeted mobilization of young people. The crucial point here is that young people need to have a deeper understanding of history and should move beyond the dominant narratives pushed by political elites. These elites typically operate with the goal of winning elections or defeating political rivals, and in doing so, may exploit youth for their own agendas. Regardless of whether one speaks Afaan Oromo, Amharic, Somali, or any other language, what truly matters is the ability to understand and engage with the concerns of other young people—and to work together toward a peaceful and inclusive society. Looking back at the past 50 years of Ethiopian history, we see a clear pattern where political elites have repeatedly mobilized their communities for their own causes. And this is unlikely to stop unless we develop new modes of political mobilization.
We need to think beyond ethno-linguistic and cultural identities and begin to organize around shared social and economic experiences—as farmers, factory workers, traders, or service providers. Mobilization based on such achieved social statuses would likely lead to more productive political engagement than the ethno-linguistic identity-based mobilization we’ve seen in recent decades. In this sense, cross-cultural and class-based mobilization—whether as farmers, laborers, traders, or bankers—can create a more inclusive and constructive political discourse. This would not only enrich the way young people engage in politics but could also reshape Ethiopia’s political future in a more sustainable and culturally cohesive direction.
You have studied the contested ownership of Hawassa and Hossana, including land disputes involving religion. Could you tell us more?
This issue is deeply tied to the historical process of Ethiopian state formation, which has had multiple dimensions. Beyond the political and economic goals—such as controlling land, space, and the exploitation of natural resources like coal or minerals—state-making also carried religious and cultural implications. One aspect of this was the expansion of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church from the northern and central highlands into the southern regions of Ethiopia. This expansion was not just religious—it was part and parcel of the broader state-building project. The Church acquired vast space and influence, and communities in the southern regions were often on the receiving end of both political-economic domination and socio-cultural subjugation. However, over the past 30 years, with the introduction of the federal system and the adoption of a new constitution, many of these historically marginalized socio-cultural identities have gained political recognition. These identities have not only been acknowledged but have also become active tools in the political arena. As a result, the assertiveness of these groups in reclaiming space within their own territories has become much more visible and prominent.
In Hawassa, for example, Saint Gabriel Church stands as one of the city’s most iconic religious and architectural landmarks. It’s a central visual and cultural feature of the city. But in recent years, the erection of the Summuda monument directly in front of the church has introduced a new layer of contestation. This monument serves as a symbol of Sidama identity and reflects a growing desire to assert local cultural presence in the urban landscape. Now, these two structures—the church and the monument—symbolically compete for visibility and dominance within the city. The church represents the historical dominance of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, while the Summuda monument reflects the rising assertion and recognition of Sidama identity in shaping the city’s public space.
A similar dynamic is unfolding in Hossana. The Orthodox Church has expanded its presence by constructing Saint Michael Church and celebrating major religious holidays such as Meskel and Timket in prominent public spaces. However, when church leaders sought to hold celebrations in an open area known as ‘Gofer Meda’, local Hadiya leaders objected. In response, they renamed the area HadiyyNefera, meaning ‘The Lung of Hadiya’, emphasizing its symbolic and cultural importance to the Hadiya people. As the Hadiya identity has become more confident and assertive, it has sought to reclaim and redefine public spaces that were previously dominated by other cultural and religious forces. Ultimately, the state-making process in Ethiopia has always had political, economic, social, cultural, and religious dimensions. And history shows us that wherever subjugation and repression occur, over time, communities push back. What we are witnessing in places like Hawassa and Hossana are contemporary expressions of that pushback—efforts by marginalized groups to reclaim and reshape spaces that were once taken from them.
Could these politico-religious activities pose a threat to the nation?
Any form of contestation has the potential to escalate into violent conflict. Conflict, in itself, is natural—societies evolve through conflict. The mere existence of conflict is not necessarily the problem. What becomes more dangerous is the politicization of these issues, as well as the suppression of such forms of expression. The more we curtail or prohibit spaces for grievances and concerns to be voiced, the more likely it is that people will turn to separatism or other extreme responses. In such cases, yes, it can develop into a larger political crisis. These kinds of expressions—whether religious, cultural, or political—need to be managed in a way that avoids zero-sum thinking. It should never be about one group asserting its rights at the expense of another. The assumption of socio-cultural rights by one group should not lead to the suppression of others. A healthy society thrives when people take the time to understand one another’s concerns and when we are inclusive and respectful of different forms of expression and identity.
These dynamics only become a serious political problem when they are manipulated—especially by political elites seeking to gain or maintain power. No society is entirely harmonious. Even in countries like Somalia, where there is near-total religious and ethno-cultural homogeneity, divisions still exist, often at the level of clans or sub-clans. So the issue is not about homogeneity versus diversity. Diversity must be recognized and respected—but not in a way that leads to the suppression of others.
Ultimately, it’s about accommodation. In the past, this wasn’t the norm in Ethiopia, which is why we have seen a resurgence in movements aimed at reclaiming space and identity over the past three decades. That said, this process of reclamation must be carefully managed, with conscious awareness of the diversity within our communities. Only then can we avoid turning expressions of identity into sources of division and conflict.
Can you discuss the potential long-term effects of international migration on local governance structures in urban centers like Hosanna?
One of the most unique features of Hossana is the role of remittances—money sent from abroad, particularly from South Africa. This large and continuous flow of remittance income has significantly shaped the urbanization process in Hossana. Migrant communities living in South Africa often bring their families from rural parts of Hossana or nearby areas to the urban center. This results in increased population movement and relocation into the city.
Secondly, this influx of remittance money has stimulated thriving business activities within Hossana. As a result, local governments must ensure they have a properly functioning service delivery system to meet growing demands within the city. However, this transformation is also driving increased pressure for access to rural land in the peripheries of Hossana, leading to a process of peri-urbanization. At the same time, informal land markets are flourishing. In many cases, farmers from the outskirts of Hossana sell their land to finance the migration of family members to South Africa, with the expectation that these migrants will send money back to support the family later. This creates a complex web of relationships between migration, land, finance, and urban growth.
Given these dynamics, local governments must be equipped with the capacity to manage both the social and economic consequences of such large-scale migration. Unfortunately, Hossana and its surrounding areas currently lack major manufacturing hubs that could absorb the growing labor force or support value-added industries, such as agro-processing based on local crop and food production. As a result, many people end up working in the service sector—particularly in hotel and hospitality industries—which have limited integration into the local economy. This means that economic activity remains shallow, lacking strong connections with the broader ecosystem of local production and consumption.
Therefore, it’s essential that local governments build their capacity to manage both the human and financial flows linked to international migration, in order to ensure these benefits are directed toward the sustainable development of Hossana and its surrounding communities. Relying solely on remittance income from South Africa, without strategic planning and investment, could result in more serious long-term challenges, rather than driving meaningful and inclusive urban transformation.
Do you think contests over public space can be considered a microcosm for broader national identity debates in Ethiopia?
I think these conversations need to happen from a much broader perspective—with a strong focus on inclusiveness and mutual understanding. Urban areas should be spaces where multiple identities are celebrated, not zones of exclusivity. These identities can be shaped by language, religion, and intercultural interactions, and it’s crucial that our cities reflect and support this diversity. To move forward, we must reject zero-sum politics. Instead of treating space and identity as something to be won or lost, we should view diversity and difference as sources of strength. Urban spaces—by nature—are incredibly diverse, and they should offer room for all communities to feel represented, rather than marginalized or excluded.
This is where national and regional governments have a responsibility. Their public and social policies must actively support and incentivize diversity. For example, what we’re seeing in Hawassa with the introduction of the Sidama language as the working language of the Sidama Regional State is something to be recognized and appreciated. The use of the language at an official level allows it to grow, develop, and be preserved—which is a positive and necessary step.
However, this development shouldn’t come at the cost of excluding other communities in the city—people who have lived, thrived, and contributed to Hawassa’s development over the past 50 years, many of whom speak other languages, primarily Amharic. There is no reason a city or region can’t have more than one working language. For instance, Switzerland uses German, French, and Italian as official working languages. In the same way, introducing Sidama as a working language should not exclude non-Sidama speakers—it should exist alongside other languages in a spirit of inclusivity.
Therefore, the government must be conscious and intentional in designing public and social policies that promote inclusion rather than division. That’s why I emphasize the need to avoid zero-sum politics—where one group’s gain is automatically seen as another’s loss. Focusing too narrowly on language and socio-cultural identity can lead to further exclusion. Instead, I believe young people’s engagement would be more impactful if it shifted toward organizing and mobilizing around shared economic interests, professions, or roles in the production process. In that framework, it’s no longer just about being Oromo, Amhara, Gurage, or any other group—if you’re a farmer, a factory worker, or a trader, you’ll likely share similar challenges and aspirations, regardless of ethnicity or language. These kinds of common causes can be the foundation for broader solidarity and help us avoid the negative consequences of identity-based contestation as we move forward.
What unexplored areas of urban contestation in Ethiopia do you think warrant further academic investigation?
Understanding the layers of contestations in other major towns across Ethiopia would be a valuable and necessary academic exercise. If there is capacity, conducting more studies in cities like Adama, Gondar, Bahir Dar, and Mekelle would allow us to better understand our regional cities and regional capital cities as spaces of political, economic, and socio-cultural contestation.
Addis Ababa continues to receive a great deal of attention—and rightly so—but there is a great deal happening outside of the capital that we need to acknowledge and explore. At the regional level, particularly in Oromia, Tigray, and Amhara, we can gain a deeper and more nuanced understanding by examining what kinds of contestation are emerging in cities like Dessie or Bahir Dar. While these places might appear linguistically homogeneous on the surface, there are many layers of complexity—such as differences in socio-economic status and local power dynamics—that warrant deeper investigation. Studying these complexities would help us develop a more context-sensitive and relevant urban policy. To my knowledge, the last comprehensive urban policy was published in 2006, with others merely embedded within broader national development plans. Any forthcoming urban policy from the federal government must be informed by these diverse and localized contestations. The kinds of issues that are relevant in Dire Dawa may not apply to Bahir Dar, and what is significant in Hawassa may not resonate in Dessie. Therefore, the urban policy making process should be shaped by the real, grounded questions and challenges occurring across multiple urban areas. What our study has shown is that—beyond Addis Ababa—there are numerous spaces of contestation that deserve attention. Recognizing and understanding these can provide valuable inputs for more responsive and inclusive policy and decision-making processes.
Could you tell us about other nations’ experiences in solving such complicated issues? Are there any relevant theories on how best to address them?
It’s crucial to decentralize power. When all attention is focused on Addis Ababa, other layers of contestation are often overlooked or not adequately recognized. For instance, when Hawassa became the regional capital of the former Southern Nations, Nationalities, and People’s Regional State (SNNPR), other urban centers in the former SNNPR were neglected. Everything shifted to Hawassa, while cities like Sodo, Hossana, Yirgalem, and Arba Minch, which also had potential, began to stagnate at the expense of Hawassa. Thus, decentralizing power from the center is a fundamental logic behind federalism. It allows us to understand sub-national political contests more fully. These are not limited to who holds power in Arat Kilo [seat of the federal government); they also involve the political dynamics between sub-national entities and actors. For example, the contestations between different cultural groups, such as the Sidama and the Wolayita, or within the Amhara region itself, show that contestation is multi-layered. In Dire Dawa, there’s a contestation between Oromo and Somali elites, illustrating that each region has its unique political tensions and challenges.
This complexity requires us to move beyond simple conclusions. The more space and effort we dedicate to understanding politics outside the capital city, the better we can understand our country as a whole. Addis Ababa is not an isolated island; everything happening in other regions contributes to the broader national political landscape. It’s essential to recognize that national politics are too intricate to be confined solely to Addis Ababa.
