• Contenu principal
  • Menu
OpenEdition Books
  • Accueil
  • Catalogue de 15476 livres
  • Éditeurs
  • Auteurs
  • Facebook
  • X
  • Partager
    • Facebook

    • X

    • Accueil
    • Catalogue de 15476 livres
    • Éditeurs
    • Auteurs
  • Ressources numériques en sciences humaines et sociales

    • OpenEdition
  • Nos plateformes

    • OpenEdition Books
    • OpenEdition Journals
    • Hypothèses
    • Calenda
  • Bibliothèques

    • OpenEdition Freemium
  • Suivez-nous

  • Lettre d’information
OpenEdition Search

Redirection vers OpenEdition Search.

À quel endroit ?
  • Centre français des études éthiopiennes...
  • ›
  • Ad'É Books, Contemporary Horn of Africa...
  • ›
  • Educating the Nation in Ethiopia
  • ›
  • Part Two. Education under the Derg: Eman...
  • ›
  • The Literacy Campaign: A Matrix for the ...
  • Centre français des études éthiopiennes...
  • Centre français des études éthiopiennes
    Centre français des études éthiopiennes
    Informations sur la couverture
    Table des matières
    Liens vers le livre
    Informations sur la couverture
    Table des matières
    Formats de lecture

    Plan

    Plan détaillé Texte intégral 1. Eradicating illiteracy: the method 2. Teaching: knowledge and languages 3. Mobilising the masses 4. Educational dynamics: the masses arrive on the scene 5. What does reading and writing mean? Conclusion Notes de bas de page

    Educating the Nation in Ethiopia

    Ce livre est recensé par

    Précédent Suivant
    Table des matières

    Chapter 7

    The Literacy Campaign: A Matrix for the New Society? (1979–1985)

    p. 207-234

    Texte intégral 1. Eradicating illiteracy: the method 1.1 Building on past literacy experiences 1.2 The organisation 1.3 Using all available means 1.4 Rhythm and timing 2. Teaching: knowledge and languages 2.1 Knowledge: organising communities along socialist lines and improving living conditions 2.2 The languages of nationalities 3. Mobilising the masses 3.1 Explaining 3.2 Staging: departure and award ceremonies 3.3 Theatre and songs 34 Control and coercion 4. Educational dynamics: the masses arrive on the scene 4.1 Attitudes towards education at the heart of political and social transformations 4.2 Women engage with the literacy centres 5. What does reading and writing mean? 5.1 Vernacular or Amharic? 5.2 Language issues on the periphery: Gamo intellectuals against literacy in the Wolaita language Conclusion Notes de bas de page

    Texte intégral

    1In order to give birth to a “learning society” aimed at nurturing scientific awareness, encouraging socialist attitudes and increasing production, the Derg implemented a national campaign in 1979 with the objective of completely eradicating illiteracy by 1987. It was a flagship action of the regime, and was envisaged to be the primary impetus that would set the population on the road to a widespread and sustainable education that would transform society. This chapter will show how this campaign was conceived as a powerful vector of mobilisation and offer an update on the educational, social and political dynamics it generated. By analysing the ways in which a mass project decided from above was engaged in by the population, it will be possible for us to understand how the various actors—peasant communities, women and members of marginalised nationalities—wanted to live within the national political community.

    2The literacy campaign began in 1979 and lasted until the fall of the Derg in 1991. This chapter focuses on the years between 1979 and 1985, a short period of relative calm when the regime became institutionalised in the countryside. 1985 was marked by a great famine, which was followed by forced population displacements and the villagisation policy. The second half of the 1980s also saw an intensification of the war against Eritrea. The period between 1985 and 1991 was one of increased pressure on the population, and will be discussed in Chapter 10.

    1. Eradicating illiteracy: the method

    3To implement its campaign, the regime drew on the literacy experiments that had been carried out on a smaller scale since the 1960s.

    1.1 Building on past literacy experiences

    4In the 1960s, the Ethiopian government, UNESCO, UNDP and the Lutheran Church carried out functional literacy projects, the aim being to equip their target populations with the appropriate knowledge and skills to increase productivity and serve development. A first proclamation on literacy issued by Emperor Haile Selassie in 1955 called on adults to work towards literacy on their own initiative using their personal means and locally-available educational resources.1 The government did not announce any action on its part. The first significant step was taken in 1961 with the establishment of the “National Literacy Campaign,”2 a misleading name, as it was an institution and not a campaign. The emperor was the head of the organising committee, the crown prince was its president, and the patriarch and prime minister were honorary members, “to show the importance that the government and the people of Ethiopia [accorded] to such an organisation.”3 In 1966, a Department of Adult Education was established within the Ministry of Education.4 By the summer of 1962, 13,280 people had attended literacy classes. This number rose to 27,000 in 1964, and then fell back to 7,500 in 1969, before the project collapsed (Gudeta 1982, 206).

    5The most important work done on literacy before the revolution was the Yemesrach Dems Literacy Campaign (YDLC), which was implemented between 1962 and 1975.5 It was initiated by the Mekane Yesus Evangelical Church, an Ethiopian affiliate of the Lutheran World Federation. Although the church was established in the southwest of the country, especially in Wellega, the campaign was carried out in 12 of the 14 provinces of the empire, with a focus on remote rural areas. In the northern regions with an "orthodox" Christian majority, schools were established in Muslim villages so as not to compete with the official Tewahedo Church (Sjörström & Sjörström 1983, 69–71). The YDLC had evangelistic aims coupled with a functional literacy project. Amharic, arithmetic and the Bible were taught, with the addition of courses on agriculture, nutrition and health (Sjörström & Sjörström 1973, 17). By 1973, it had reached 375,000 people, half of whom were members of the Ethiopian evangelical churches. From 1975, the YDLC literacy centres were gradually transferred to the newly-established farmers’ associations (Sjörström & Sjörström 1983, 11–14). The teachers, Ethiopians with limited training who accomplished a great deal with very limited means, then joined the Derg literacy campaign as instructors and inspectors (Sjörström & Sjörström 1983, 184).

    6The third initiative was the Adult Literacy and Vocational Training Project, which was implemented between 1968 and 1974. It was part of the Experimental World Literacy Programme (EWLP) that was conducted and funded by UNESCO and the UNDP in 11 countries between 1967 and 1973. In Ethiopia, four zones were selected: Wolaita, Arsi, Kaffa and Methara Ribbon.6 The planning and management of the project was the responsibility of the Ethiopian Ministry of Education, in partnership with the Ministry of Agriculture, Trade and Industry. UNESCO was responsible for the financial assistance provided by the UNDP.7 Its objective was to test the functional literacy method that had been officially adopted by UNESCO in 1965 at the Tehran Conference. Kaffa, Wolaita and Arsi were selected on the basis of their estimated potential for “rural development.”8 In Methara Ribbon, which is in the industrialised zone southeast of Addis Ababa, literacy was linked to technical education and the safety standards to be applied in factories.9

    7The adult literacy and vocational training established in Wolaita was integrated into the Wolaita Agricultural Development Unit (WADU), which started in 1970, funded two thirds by the World Bank and one third by the government. It aimed to enhance food security through the introduction of chemical fertilisers, better seeds and pesticides, the development of credit for farmers and the creation of cooperatives (Dassalegn 2007, 30). Reading, writing and basic arithmetic were taught using appropriate vocabulary and applications for agriculture, hygiene and nutrition.10 The instructors were local students from grades 6 to 12 who had received a brief training in literacy teaching.11 On the eve of the revolution in 1974, 43,440 people in the four areas selected for the project had become literate, with 13,960 in Wolaita alone.12

    8By 1970, across the country and across all projects, one million people had become literate. According to the Director of the Department of Adult Education, the “problem” had “only been touched on.”13 In 1974, the illiteracy rate was 93%.14 However, the country had people with experience of literacy methods, notably functional literacy for health and agriculture. Textbooks had been produced that could serve as models. Finally, the Mass Literacy Campaign that began in 1979 could count on the momentum generated three years earlier by the zemecha.

    1.2 The organisation

    9First of all, the Department of Adult Education was given a new lease of life. Made up of 18 staff members in 1974, its initial work was to review past experiences and develop teaching materials.15 This is how Gudeta Mammo, Director of the Coordinating Committee of the National Literacy Campaign, describes the process of developing the literacy campaign:

    Before the actual launching of the National Literacy Campaign […] all those who were to be involved were invited to discuss it. Top government officials in the Revolutionary National Development Campaign and Central Planning Supreme Council met to discuss ways and means of launching the campaign. Once the programme was approved, a National Seminar was conducted involving all Regional and Provincial Administrators, Peasant Association members, Production and Political Cadres, Urban Dwellers Association members and Women and Youth Associations members. The participation of officials together with the members of the different associations was to control the consolidation of the plan and facilitated the mobilization and participation of the masses. (Gudeta 1985, 108)

    10In May 1979, the Coordinating Committee for the National Literacy Campaign was established and then expanded to the various levels of government.16 The policy was developed and driven by the Coordinating Committee at the Ministry of Education, and then descended in stages to the peasant and urban neighbourhood associations to reach the masses. The literacy campaign was a good example of the regime’s ability to carry out large-scale action in a limited timeframe through the effective articulation of the various administrative levels. The key structures for linking government and communities were the peasant associations, which were responsible for all logistics and monitoring at a local level (Dassalegn 1984, 96).

    1.3 Using all available means

    11The effort was jointly financed by international institutions, UNICEF, UNESCO and the European Development Fund, by foreign countries such as the USSR, Japan and the GDR, by the Ethiopian government and by the population directly.17 The population was heavily involved: 65% of the financial resources obtained locally were used at a national level, while 35% were held back for local use (Gudeta 1985, 118). Implementation of the campaign would have been impossible without the wide-scale involvement of the population, however. People who were able to read and write were mobilised on a massive scale. The vast majority of the literacy teachers were students, accompanied by teachers and civil servants from the administration or the army. Candidates for selection had to be healthy, single and childless (Gudeta 1990, 5). In 1979, they numbered 241,501 and in 1980, 57,993.18 Logically, as literacy progressed, the number of enrolments decreased, as did the number of students. Service was compulsory, and all pupils who had passed the Grade 12 final examination had to teach for at least four months. It was a prerequisite for further study and employment. Demeke Melesse, an instructor in 1989, recalls that he received 60 ber per month—a relatively symbolic sum considering that the salary of a primary school teacher at that time was 400 ber per month—and a uniform, and was housed and fed by the peasants.19 In turn, in order to make the best use of available resources, literate farmers gradually became instructors in their own communities. These local literacy instructors were sometimes temporarily assisted by young Grade 12 graduates sent by the Ministry of Education (Pankhurst 1990, 66).

    12“Schools, town association centres, factory workshops, commercial premises, military camps, prisons, private homes, offices, churches and mosques, youth centres, state farms and meeting rooms” became literacy centres for a few hours a day (Gudeta 1982, 208). In rural areas where these buildings were not available, thatched earthen buildings in the style of peasant dwellings were put up by the villagers, or literacy classes were held in the shade of trees. The basic school materials consisted of a blackboard, an alphabet poster and sometimes beginners’ books. The reading books were produced in Addis Ababa and transported by truck to the last place accessible by road before being brought to the villages by mule by farmers (Gudeta 1985, 120). Lack of paper and pens was a major problem in rural areas at the beginning of the campaign, but small village traders quickly acquired them before they were distributed by consumer cooperatives.20

    1.4 Rhythm and timing

    13The established objective was the total eradication of illiteracy by 1982 in urban areas and by 1987 in rural areas.21 The campaign was organised as a series of “stages,” at a rate of two per year. The main session began at the end of the school year, when students, young graduates and teachers were available. Literacy teaching was provided for four to five months, for three hours a day, five days a week (McNab 1990, 69). Specific targets were set for each stage to spread literacy from the cities to the countryside, and from one stage to the next. The first two stages, from June to October 1979 and October 1979 to June 1980, respectively, were “a concerted attack in urban and surrounding areas.” In the third stage, from May to October 1980, action was extended to rural areas selected by the provincial coordinating committees. The aim of the fourth stage, from November 1980 to April 1981, was the final eradication of illiteracy in urban areas and an extension to other rural areas. From these fully literate “safe bases,” the stages would be launched towards “the vast rural areas,” until illiteracy had been totally eliminated.22 For the military regime, this was a “campaign,” a progressive conquest of the territories of illiteracy.

    2. Teaching: knowledge and languages

    14The knowledge that was disseminated and the languages that were used were a reflection of the Derg’s development policy and its redefinition of the nation.

    2.1 Knowledge: organising communities along socialist lines and improving living conditions

    15The basic literacy teaching materials consisted of a syllabary, a reading book, an arithmetic book and a political education book (McNab 1990, 75). Other textbooks were produced specifically to be used by new readers as part of a post-literacy scheme. The aim was to ensure that the skills acquired were maintained, and that they would be directed towards functional knowledge that could be used directly to improve material living conditions and transform community organisation. The themes of the textbooks were health, hygiene, childcare, agriculture and political education. By 1982, the Coordinating Committee of the National Literacy Campaign had built 4,300 “community reading rooms” and produced 50 titles to be used by newly-literate people.23 Two examples of textbooks, one on the role and functioning of cooperatives and the other on health, child care, hygiene and milking, show the knowledge that was disseminated and how it was presented.24

    16The first textbook Worker Cooperatives had openly political objectives. As the authors stated in the introduction:

    መጽሐፉ በሰሻሊስት ኢትዮጽያ የሚቋቋሙትን የኅብረት ሥራ ማኅበራት ዓይነቶች ይገልጻል ። […] የሰፊው ሠርቶ አደር ሕዝብ ኑሮ መሻሻል ለሚደረገው ጥረት ከፍተኛ አስተዋጽኦ እንደሚያበረክቱ ለማሣየት ነው። […] ዝግጅቱም ለጎልማሶች እንደሚስማማ በቃላል ቃላት ፥ በአጫጭር አረፍተ ነገሮችና አንቀጾች ለማቅረብ ጥረት ተደርጓል።

    This book offers explanations regarding the cooperatives established in socialist Ethiopia. It aims to highlight the efforts they undertake and their significant contributions to enhancing the lives of the working masses. To ensure its accessibility for adults, an endeavour has been made to use simple words, short sentences, and paragraphs in its organization.25

    17The manual presented four types of cooperatives: service cooperatives, producer cooperatives, savings and credit cooperatives, and housing cooperatives. It went on to explain how they operated, their usefulness and their objectives in terms of production and spreading socialist ideas and practices, technology and development: their “multiple contributions to the construction of the new society” (ለአዲስ ሕብረተሰብ ግንባታ የሚያበረክቱት አስተዋጽኦ).26 They lay at the heart of the workings of a society based on solidarity, in which the population’s economic, political and social rights would finally be guaranteed. Their advantages in terms of development were then highlighted. An organisation of production based on cooperatives would allow better transmission and use of “modern technology” than a system based on the private ownership of production resources; along the road to development, socialism was a “superior form” to capitalism. In the space of just 30 pages, therefore, the manual offered some basic notions of Marxism-Leninism and some explanations of the functioning and rationale of a collectivised society.

    18In the introduction to the book on health, hygiene and agriculture, the authors explained that:

    መጽሐፉ ለአዲስ አንባቢያን ችሎታ ተስማሚ እንደሚሆን ታስቦ ቀለል ባለ አቀራረብ ሥዐላዊ መግለጫዎች ታክለውበት ተዘጋጅቷል። ስለሆነም ጎልማሶች መጽሐፉን አንብበው ያገኙትን ዕውቀት ለኑሮአቸው መሻሻል እንደሚጠቀሙበት እምነታችን ነው።

    Recognizing the need for this book to align with the skills of new readers, it has been meticulously crafted with clear and engaging illustrations. We are confident that adults, while reading this book, will discover valuable knowledge to enhance their lives.27

    19The book depicted a familiar world from the first glance. Many of the didactic illustrations depicted Ethiopian peasants in their local environment. There was no comparison between the peasant world and a distant “modernity” that was viewed as superior. Women’s and men’s activities were presented separately, even though they were combined in the same book. The illustrations on childcare and hygiene in the domestic sphere featured women, while those on agriculture featured men.

    20The book was divided into five sections. The first focused on the most common contagious diseases that affected children, such as whooping cough, tonsillitis and smallpox. Symptoms were described in such a way that they could be detected by everyone, and the existence or lack of a vaccine was specified in each case. Vaccinations for children were the subject of the second chapter, and readers were strongly encouraged to visit health centres. All the illustrations depicted a woman and her child at a doctor’s clinic. This was an attempt to familiarise readers with medical institutions in a rural society where there was little or no medical care. The third section was titled Let’s be careful disease doesn’t spread (በሸታ እንዳይዛመት እንጠንቀቅ). It dealt with bodily hygiene and diet, and how diseases spread through breathing and mucous membranes. Several pages were dedicated to “pests”: rodents such as mice and rats, and insects such as flies, fleas and mosquitoes. The fourth chapter presented techniques for managing waste and human excretion. Simple and inexpensive building techniques were suggested using materials that were directly available in the countryside, such as wood, earth and stones. The text was illustrated with plans showing the dimensions to be used when building latrines, a hole for burning domestic waste and a sink system to filter wastewater using layers of stones of different sizes. This section presented a series of practices aimed at family and community maintenance of the living environment without the costly collective infrastructures the state would not be able to provide. On the other hand, the previous incentives to accustom people to visit medical facilities implied that infrastructure would be available close to each village community, which was far from being the case, but they were part of the long-term project to establish one. The fifth chapter, on milking methods and clean milk, is a good example of what government educators and planners meant by “technology transfer.” It presented methods that required relatively large amounts of equipment compared to the scarce resources available to the majority of farming families: a room entirely devoted to milking, several buckets and other metal containers requiring the use of chemical disinfectant and a weighing scale. The weighing scale had to be used for the rational monitoring of production. One illustration shows a peasant dressed in a shirt, trousers and boots—a “modern” peasant –, instead of the cotton cloth and sandals worn by the peasants on the previous pages, communicating the status of his production on paper. Of course, the peasants already knew the amount of milk their animals were producing from their specially adapted containers, but this chapter called for a type of monitoring that was viewed as rational in contrast to customary farming practices. It implied the use of the written word for long-term evaluation and its inclusion in the daily routine of productive practices. This raises the question of how the majority of farmers might obtain the equipment illustrated. Here again, it was a question of anticipating the future planned by the authorities. The authors probably thought that this work would be carried out within the framework of cooperatives, or that cooperatives would be able to provide this equipment to farmers in the future.

    2.2 The languages of nationalities

    21As well as promoting grassroots development based on everyday practices and socialist cooperatives, the literacy campaign was the principal place for implementing the policy of promoting nationalities through the choice of teaching in languages other than Amharic. Vernacular languages were written down specifically for the purposes of teaching literacy. From the early stages in 1979 and 1980, materials were printed in five languages: Amharic, Oromo, Somali, Tigrigna and Wolaita. In 1981 it was the turn of Gedeo, Hadiya, Kambatta, Kunama, and Tigre.28 The total number was later increased to 15, thereby including the languages spoken by 95% of the total population (Bahru 2008a, 88). The language policy represented a decisive break with the past exclusive recognition of Amharic. The intention of the literacy campaign was to “promote the revival of the cultures of different nationalities in all their diversity and, as far as possible, to teach illiterate people in their mother tongue” (Gudeta 1982, 207). From a pedagogical point of view, this statement echoed the arguments that UNESCO had been proposing since the 1950s: that a person who is literate in his or her mother tongue is more likely to assimilate the knowledge that is being transmitted.29 From a political perspective, the choice of a national or local language was a matter of nation-building. The aim was to combat the marginalisation of minority groups and build national unity at the same time. For UNESCO, the concern for minority cultures and state interest in unity were both considered legitimate. One of the key challenges of the literacy campaigns was to respect and encourage minority cultures while also providing new readers with the means to break out of their marginalisation. This involved the promotion of vernacular languages and the dissemination of a national or international lingua franca at the same time. The Derg’s language policy was a part of these debates. Educationists in the Ministry of Education believed that literacy and the transmission of an ideology that accompanied it would be more effective in the mother tongue. They claimed that they wanted to end the cultural oppression of the southern nationalities while at the same time being viscerally committed to the creation of a unified nation. From this dual perspective, the development of local languages and Amharic as vehicles of education was a major concern.

    22Ethiopia has a rich linguistic context. Estimates vary, but it is possible to make the claim that there are at least 70 languages in the country. They include Amharic, Oromo and Tigrigna, which at the time of the campaign were the mother tongues of 31%, 27% and 14% of the population, respectively. Numerically, they dominate the other languages; next on the list is Wolaita, which is the mother tongue of 3.6% of the country’s population, followed closely by Sidamo (3.4%) (MacNab 1990, 68). The work of compiling and editing the languages was carried out by the Institute of Language Studies before the Institute for the Study of Ethiopian Nationalities (ISEN) took over after its creation in 1983. As early as 1976, the zemecha had provided an opportunity to catalogue languages and begin the development of written forms. By 1978, the institute employed 21 linguists working in three teams devoted to the compilation of lexicons, literature and linguistics, respectively. In the first instance, the literature team had to bring together two sets of texts: those in the languages of the ancient written tradition, mainly Geez, Amharic and Tigrigna, and those of the missionaries written in the languages of the peoples of the south whom they had attempted to evangelise. The second team had to collect and study stories, proverbs and tales, and write reports on the socioeconomic and philosophical ideas they conveyed. The third team had to conduct phonological studies before writing, conduct comparative studies and enrich the vocabulary of the various languages to embrace science, technology and Marxist concepts (Bender 1985, 274–76). Everything was to be transcribed into the Geez syllabary in order to facilitate the transition from the mother tongue to the national language, Amharic, the dissemination of which remained an essential objective for unification purposes.

    23ISEN worked in collaboration with Addis Ababa University and employed academics from a variety of disciplines, including law, political science, sociology, history and economics. It accumulated a significant amount of information on the different nationalities. Its very existence marked a significant change from the previous regime. In this sense, it is testimony to the fact that the recognition of nationalities was not mere rhetoric. Of course, its intended function was to be unifying. The institute was supposed to contribute to “resolving minor contradictions between nationalities” by eliminating “chauvinism” (Clapham 1988, 200). In a way, it reflected in Marxist-Leninist terms the position of the authors of the article titled “Aims and Objectives of Ethiopian Education” in the Journal of Ethiopian Education published on the eve of the revolution in 1974. Instead of a uniformity based on the imposition of the language and identity of the Christian North, these academics and senior officials from the Ministry of Education argued that cultural diversity could be a strength rather than a weakness, and that education should combine a mixture of cultures into a rich national culture (Girma, Abraham & Abba Samuel 1974, 9). It seems that this was also the vision of the cultural committees that were created in the regions following the revolution. This, at least, is the position defended by Abraham Babanto, the chairman of the Wolaita Cultural Committee, in his history of Wolaita published in 1979. In his introduction, he states that he wrote his book to promote the history of his region with the aim of unity, equality and exchange with the other nationalities of the country, from a nationalist perspective. 30

    3. Mobilising the masses

    24The government made significant efforts to fill the literacy centres. Although it was encouraged by a small urban intelligentsia, social demand from the peasant world was virtually non-existent. The use of the written word in the countryside was limited to specific acts relating to religion or communication with the administration. The population also practised “delegated writing”: they were able to use men of the church to access religious written culture, and used public writers to produce legal documents.31 The written word was not integrated into daily practices in any way. This being the case, attending literacy classes was far from an obvious step. Zerihun Anebo, a Wolaita teacher who was an instructor in the neighbouring Kaffa region, recalls that at first, literacy seemed strange to the peasants.32 It was an odd kind of education that produced nothing that would satisfy one’s basic needs, and hours of sitting down were required to learn to master a practice that was not a part of daily activities. Were the few people who knew how to read and write, the “professionals” of the written word, not enough to provide what was needed? Under conditions where scepticism needed to be overcome, the regime combined incitement, persuasion and coercion.

    25The Derg was sure of its direction, and placed literacy at the heart of its plan for social transformation. It was one of the most iconic aspects of its general policy. Its extremely ambitious educational project had been widely announced, and considerable efforts had been made to organise and implement it: literacy had to be achieved quickly, whatever the cost. Since peasants “did not know the usefulness of education,” the regime opted first for pedagogy.

    3.1 Explaining

    26The mass media, gathering places such as markets, social events such as weddings and funeral ceremonies and, of course, popular associations were used to explain and convince.33 Mobilising the population for the literacy campaign was an important task of local cadres, and they received short training courses for this purpose.34 Regional and provincial officials also took part in the efforts to convince people. More rarely, visiting senior officials made sure to speak out on the subject. The gatherings organised by the kebele and farmers’ associations were times for exchanging opinions, both between officials and participants and among the participants themselves. According to a senior official of the Ministry of Education, Gudeta Mammo, the debates that took place at such gatherings, which enabled the masses themselves to practice the art of persuasion, often had a greater impact on the participants than months of effort by educators (Gudeta 1990, 111). However, other less biased and more frequent witness accounts paint a different picture. Researcher Dessalegn Rahmato found that the exchanges were very uneven and could sometimes turn into a “hammering,” especially if someone important was there (Dessalegn 1984, 93). Nevertheless, it is very likely that real exchanges did take place, especially in the countryside, during meetings held when important people were not present, and only peasants had gathered. But the farmers’ associations were conveyor belts between central government and local communities, not institutions aimed at encouraging proposals from local communities. Free discussions or not, in the end it was the policy that had been decided upon that had to be implemented.

    3.2 Staging: departure and award ceremonies

    27A second means of mobilisation was through the ritualisation of milestones. The departure of the instructors was an occasion for large public ceremonies. Twice a year, at the beginning of each “stage,” thousands of people gathered in the streets of Addis Ababa and other major cities to celebrate the instructors’ departure. These mass gatherings were covered by the national media. The size of the ceremony had to be commensurate with the action being celebrated, and the population was therefore able to assess the extent to which the literacy campaign was a national priority. The speeches were once again designed to convince, the music to create an atmosphere of jubilation and the slogans to stimulate a sense of communion. These ceremonies were not unlike departures for war: families and friends were there to say goodbye to their loved ones, who were leaving for the “rural adventure” to fight illiteracy, in a clearly patriotic atmosphere. Like all mass ceremonies of a political ilk, they were addressed to both reason and emotion, to encourage determination, enthusiasm and fervour. The young people who were leaving could feel that they had the support of the entire nation in the accomplishment of a historic mission. The instructors’ interest in their task was essential to the quality of their work: the success of the campaign depended to a large extent on their attitude. It was therefore of the utmost importance to create a collective momentum, to instil in everyone a feeling that they were participating in a common project and to develop a spirit of solidarity between the instructors and their future students.

    28The instructors’ departure rituals were matched by the welcome ceremonies in the places they had been assigned to. On their arrival, the “heroes of the literacy campaign” were greeted by an assembled crowd, regional government officials and the leaders of popular associations.

    On their arrival, these heroes of the literacy campaign are expected by a crowd that in addition to many local residents includes personalities from various organisations, such as the president of the peasant associations, the president of the youth associations, the president of the women’s associations and the president of the teachers’ council. Officials, community elders and the presidents of the various associations give welcoming speeches, after which one of the teachers’ representatives, preferably a woman, as this serves as an example and encouragement for rural women, takes the floor in turn to try to explain the objectives of the campaign. The launch of a literacy campaign in a designated area is a landmark and spectacular event. It is announced through the national media, such as radio and television, and the press. It takes place on the same day throughout the country. (Gudeta 1990, 6–7)

    29Here again, the ceremony had a stimulating, explanatory and demonstrative function. First of all, it reminded the instructors of their responsibility. Secondly, experiencing the material hardships of rural life for several months was not without its inconveniences for young people from the towns. The aim of the welcome was to create an engaging atmosphere in order to motivate them to work with enthusiasm. Once again, the ceremony provided an opportunity to explain the aims of the campaign and to praise the benefits of education (we will return to the question of specific incentives for women later on). Finally, gathering in large numbers in the presence of important personalities was intended to show that the literacy campaign was taken seriously by the institutions, and the local population was encouraged to do the same. The simultaneous nationwide coverage of these local events accompanied by the occasional presence of the media signified the national dimension of what was happening in their locality to those present.

    30A third ritual took place when certificates and prizes were awarded on International Literacy Day, 8 September (Gudeta 1985, 116). By holding these ceremonies at the same time in different official places and institutions, the government was once again showing that they needed to be given the appropriate amount of attention. The chosen date placed the ritual in an international perspective. In the tradition of school prize-giving ceremonies, these public ceremonies were an opportunity to encourage by example and to motivate by emulation. Last but not least, their symbolic significance should be appreciated: they ritualised the entry into the world of the literate. Drawing on Pierre Bourdieu, anthropologist Marc Abélès emphasised that consecration rites show how “societies classify, distinguish, differentiate between categories of individuals in relation to the objective oppositions, the relations of domination and subordination that in fact exist between men” and women. The ritual is performative: it is “the symbolic coup de force by which a group fixes and freezes divisions and hierarchies” (Abélès 1990, 242–43). The award of a literacy certificate might be interpreted as the crossing of the border that separated the literate from the illiterate. Given the representations attached to these two categories, access to the world of the literate symbolised entry into a new life. In concrete terms, since writing and the exercise of power were indissolubly linked, the award of the certificate signified promotion into the group of people who had the ability to administer and command.

    3.3 Theatre and songs

    31Culture was also mobilised to exert continuous action on the population. This aspect is still vividly remembered by witnesses, who recall many songs and travelling plays to support intense proselytising in favour of education.35 Some of these plays were produced locally by members of popular associations or school theatre clubs. Others were national, such as the piece titled የጨለማ ጉዞ (Journey into Darkness), which was broadcast on radio and television and performed by travelling theatre groups in local languages in rural areas.36 This form of popular culture reached a very wide audience. The plays usually featured an illiterate person and a literate person in order to compare the harmful effects of illiteracy with the benefits of education, or to recount the dramatic misadventures of an illiterate person. One famous story featured an illiterate man who travels to the city to see a doctor for his sick daughter. After asking him for the symptoms of her illness, the doctor gives him some medicine. Before returning to his village, the illiterate man decides to buy rat poison to get rid of the rodents infesting his house. Seeing that he has medicine in his hand, the salesman asks him if he can read. When he answers "no," the salesman warns him not to confuse the two boxes. He then finds a solution to help him: one box is green, and the other is blue. The two men practice together—“blue, medicine; green, rat poison”—for enough time to give the scene comic effect. On the way to his village, to make sure he does not forget, the man rehearses. But then, by repeating and repeating, he reverses the colours. The comic effect disappears and the spectators worry about the predictable end: back home, he involuntarily kills his daughter by giving her the rat poison instead of the medicine. The moral of the story is that if he had known how to read, his daughter would not have died through his fault.37

    32The aim of these plays was to show that knowing how to read can improve one’s daily life (reading is desirable) and prevent disasters (reading is necessary). It is highly likely that by overstating the point in this way, by proposing a stereotypical vision, the Ethiopian authorities were seeking to draw attention to it for educational purposes. Nevertheless, the pieces conveyed weighty value judgments. The spectator might laugh at the illiterate man, feel sorry for him, or deplore or condemn his behaviour. He was sometimes ridiculous, sometimes the victim, sometimes the “villain” of the story. This poor peasant who killed his daughter out of ignorance was to be pitied, but also blamed: his ignorance caused a death. Voluntarily or inadvertently, illiterate people were always to blame in one way or another. The objective of provoking awareness through shock led to these characters being portrayed in a truncated manner, defined by their defects, and resulted in considerable symbolic violence towards illiterate people. At the beginning of the campaign, less than 10% of the Ethiopian population was literate, with an even lower percentage in the countryside. The overwhelming majority of the spectators were illiterate. The image that was conveyed claimed to speak about them, and imposed an identity on them whose attributes it is doubtful they could accept.

    33However, the way the pieces were presented also helped provoke discussion. It provided basic elements for reflection that invited nuances, additional elements and debate. The drama format is very popular in Ethiopia, and is commonly used to illustrate social events. The audience played an active role, commenting on and discussing what they had seen, which was one of the objectives of this popular art form. The return from the market was an important collective moment—people walked in groups and discussed the news they have learned. There is no doubt that the pieces they saw animated their conversations, were commented on and interpreted, and were related to those who had not seen them. The impact of these plays cannot be measured quantitatively, but it is an indisputable fact that they made a powerful impression. The population still remembers them 30 years later: today, everyone over forty can tell a story about a play he or she remembers. They have become a part of popular culture.

    34Songs expressed the joy of learning. The star singer Tsehaye Yohannes had a hit in the early 1980s called ማንበብና መፃፍ (Reading and Writing). The song was broadcast extensively on radio and television, and also circulated in the countryside. In the TV clip, the singer holds a letter in his hand and complains that he cannot read it. A literacy class is being taught in the background. The verses—a lament—are interspersed with a chorus sung by the pupils of the literacy class that expresses their joy at learning. Finally, the singer, a tearful, powerless illiterate, comes across a passerby, who reads his letter to him before pointing towards the literacy class. They exchange a few words. The spectator understands that the passerby has told the illiterate man that he can learn to read if he wants to, thanks to the literacy centres. The illiterate man’s face lights up, and the passerby accompanies him to the class, where the instructor welcomes him with open arms and the other pupils step aside to make room for him.38 The clip shows the ease with which it was possible to learn, and the opportunity represented by the literacy centres. For the hero, entering the world of the pupils is a joyful event, and the learning universe is supportive. Just as the teacher and the other pupils welcome the illiterate character with kindness, the world of readers must not be intimidating; it is hospitable and warm.

    34 Control and coercion

    35The new regime was not content just to change people’s attitudes towards education through explanation, example and persuasion. The Derg stated that it wished to free people from illiteracy and “sometimes it forced them to learn.”39 The government used various methods of control, pressure and coercion. For illiterate people, enrolment in courses was compulsory. The first method of control was the certificate of enrolment issued by the local administration. It was also possible to register in the workplace, where lessons were given in the evenings. In theory, the certificate could be requested by the administration at any time (Gudeta 1985, 116). During the early years of the campaign, agents sent by neighbourhood and farmers’ associations visited the homes of people who were not attending classes to check why they were absent or simply to collect them.40 What powers did the local administration have to force people to come to school? In a 1984 field study, Susan Hoben noted tough measures to attract students, indicating that not all participants learned of their own accord (Hoben 1994, 634). Various punitive measures were employed, including monetary or labour penalties, threats of imprisonment and, more rarely, a few days of actual imprisonment.41 Another method used was blackmail over the distribution of land. With the agrarian reform, land management had been entrusted to peasant associations. In the context of subsistence farming, which in many ways meant that families were constantly having to deal with shortages, this gave the administration considerable leverage. A farmer who was absent too often risked seeing the amount of land allocated to him or her each year drastically reduced. Although imprisonment and land confiscation, which were particularly severe punishments, seem to have been little used in the literacy campaign, financial penalties and compulsory labour were common practice.

    36Coercive practices need to be understood in several different ways. One argument is to explain coercion as part of the Derg’s general authoritarian practices. The campaign was decided from above and was not a response to popular demand, other than that of an urban intelligentsia. Large-scale mobilisation had to be driven, and a mass movement had to be created. The stakes were extremely high for the regime: since literacy was seen as a prerequisite and matrix of progress—the raison d’être of the revolution and the principal argument for legitimising power—the future of the country depended on it. To put it more prosaically, the literacy campaign was a key tool for capturing the peasant world. The state’s progress in rural areas took its materiality from the peasant associations, and the literacy campaign had to achieve ideological integration. Finally, it was possible to justify these authoritarian practices through the figure of the illiterate man and woman, who lived in a vicious circle of ignorance and misery, lacked political consciousness and had trouble perceiving the benefits of education and understanding what was in their interest. It was therefore legitimate and necessary for others to force them to learn, for their own benefit.

    4. Educational dynamics: the masses arrive on the scene

    37What was the position of rural people vis-à-vis the literacy campaign? What were their perceptions, practices and modes of appropriation of this national policy? Rather than focusing on their supposed ability or inability to “understand” the benefits of education (which would mean taking the politically-useful construction of the “illiterate” for granted), it is more profitable to look at their disposition to adhere to the literacy project. In the first place, these dispositions formed a part of the general relationship of the peasant population with the new regime. Secondly, they can be understood through the peasants’ relationship with the political, religious and cultural manifestations of the written word. More specifically, they depended on what the campaign made possible, on what could be expected of it, on whether or not the knowledge taught was deemed appropriate and on what it could be used for. Finally, the question of how much room for manoeuvre the population enjoyed must be mentioned. Were they able to refuse, and if so, what means did they have at their disposal to avoid it?

    4.1 Attitudes towards education at the heart of political and social transformations

    38The attitude of the peasants towards the new political power depended first of all on their appreciation of the economic and social transformations that had taken place. During the first four years of the revolution, the regime was able to aggregate peasants through the land reform. This is the general context within which Mana Madibo, a Wolaita peasant from Gesuba, includes education. For him it was part of a comprehensive policy that was perceived as emancipatory and egalitarian: “The Derg succeeded in leading us to political power as equal citizens, and then to equal access to resources, the nationalisation of land, the right to vote and to be elected. With this, every household received education in a very widespread way.”42 For Mana Madibo, education was to be included within a set of reforms that were seen as leading to the overall promotion of the peasantry: economic, with access to land; political, with the right to vote in peasant associations; and cultural, with access to education. As a member of a marginalised nationality and an exploited class, he was sensitive to the egalitarian discourses of the new regime. He interprets the Derg’s education policy as a confirmation and future guarantee of economic and political reforms. Anjulo Agago, a peasant from Dubbo, explains that education was not accepted as such but because the population appreciated the regime: “The literacy campaign was imposed by force, some liked going to school and some disliked it. But the government at the time was seen as an ally or supporter of poor peasants. So in the beginning, everything the cadres said was considered to be a blessing.”43 While pointing out that the taste for studying was not unanimous, Anjulo Agago confirms that the perception of the education policy was understood within the context of a positive attitude towards the Derg’s general policy. The land reform gave rise to a feeling of confidence in the regime. In spite of the use of coercion on a population with mixed views on education, the feeling of trust created a bridge between the peasant communities and the literacy centres. Mana Madibo goes further:

    The Derg is very highly regarded, and is remembered for mass education. My first eldest son died on the northern front44 after dropping out of secondary education. But I am not sorry because the Derg freed the tenant farmers and provided access to resources for the peasants. Poor farmers felt equal and that they were citizens, and they abandoned share-cropping and submission to the lords. So no matter what sacrifice we made, I appreciate the Derg for mass education, for mass liberation.45

    39This statement is particularly evocative. First of all, by contrasting personal tragedy with collective progress, Mana Madibo states that he still appreciates the Derg. He testifies to a sense of political dignity won by the peasants, to a collective liberation within which he places education. If he categorises the terms “mass liberation” and “mass education” as part of the same movement, it is because in his opinion, “the merit of education is to bring equality and self-confidence.” On several occasions and at different points in the interview, referring to the period before the Derg, he explains: “We were illiterate, so we bowed down.” In spite of the terrible years that followed, which were marked by the 1984 famine, the policy of forced villagisation, the intensification of the civil war on the northern front and the increasingly heavy material and human cost, the peasants Mana Madibo and Anjulo Agago believe that the policies of 1974–84 were finally achieved. They transformed the living conditions of the countryside and the status of its inhabitants. They were groundbreaking in that in the collective memory, they separated a “before” of oppression and misery from an “after” of liberation, despite the hardships of life under the Derg.

    40In spite of the farmers’ feelings of goodwill towards the Derg in those early years, learning to read and write was not to everyone’s liking. In the face of an obligation to be literate, resisters used avoidance tactics: "In the beginning, people who did not like it found excuses not to go to the literacy centre. They would say ‘I’m sick’ or even hide. ‘He’s not there, he’s gone to the market.’”46 The campaign’s national director Gudeta Mammo was aware of this avoidance phenomenon. As he wrote in a 1985 article: “Some people may waste time by explaining that they learn at the kebele centre or at their workplace, without going to any centre” (Gudeta 1985, 115). But this was not possible in rural areas where there was only one literacy centre. There, one had to go to the classes, willingly or unwillingly.47 Support for the regime and coercion cannot explain everything, however. Some seized the opportunity offered by education as such: “Some people managed to write and read. […] Those who continued with perseverance went to [formal] school, completed their education and are now employed by the government in administrative jobs….”48 Some, seeing the doors that mastery of the written word could open, decided to take advantage of the opportunities for social advancement offered by literacy.

    4.2 Women engage with the literacy centres

    41For different reasons, women engaged with the literacy centres more than men. In the name of its policy to promote women, the Derg wanted to give them equal access to education. Enrolment rates for girls in schools under the Haile Selassie regime were extremely low. The Derg wanted to encourage women to go to the centres so that they could become literate, but also so that families would gradually acquire the habit of sending their daughters to school. The woman teacher Yaluse Mita recalls that the Derg sent female teachers to the countryside, insisting that they should teach women in particular.49 She also testifies that women were enthusiastically involved as early as the zamecha. Tsehai Zerihun, who was also a young zemach, says the same.50 Later on, women joined the literacy campaign in greater numbers than men. During the first phase, 70 percent of students were women and girls (Sjörström & Sjörström 1983, 40). This is highly significant if one bears in mind the fact that just four years earlier, rural women and girls were being kept away from schools. At the very end of the campaign, in 1990, anthropologist Helen Pankhurst found that women made up the majority of students attending the literacy centre in the village of Gera (Pankhurst 1990, 66). How can this engagement by women with the literacy campaign be explained? Women were no less busy with daily chores than men were. Perhaps the fact that they were already in the village due to the important role of domestic work in their daily activities made it easier for them to attend classes. However, women were also responsible for fetching water and carrying wood for domestic use, activities that kept them away from the village for several hours, and exhausting tasks that also left them with little energy for studying.

    42The reasons why women attended more frequently must be sought somewhere other than in greater availability. First of all, they seem to have seized the opportunity to acquire knowledge that would prove useful in their everyday activities. In 1984, the anthropologist Tsehai Berhane Selassie noted that the literacy programme had enabled women to communicate more widely and to be approached by the Revolutionary Ethiopia Women’s Association (REWA), which also provided education on nutrition, family planning, motherhood and basic hygiene, which were lessons adapted to daily life (Tsehai 1984, 18). It has often been pointed out that women’s associations were subordinate to the farmers’ associations and at a national level to COPWE, of which they were appendices (Clapham 1988, 138). That said, they were also places where women came together. They could exchange ideas and express themselves in public, something that was reserved for men in mixed spaces. In rural Ethiopia, women rarely met at all, let alone in a group (Poluha 2002, 71). Literacy classes and women’s associations were spaces where they could spend time outside the home, and they opened the door to more extensive sociability. They also provided opportunities for women farmers to spend time with the few women graduates who lived near them. This brought them into contact with a different model of femininity, which may have attracted them. Tsehai Zerihun, who was involved in literacy training and the organisation of women’s cooperatives in the Wolaita countryside during the zemecha, recalls that the women farmers talked to her, a young graduate from the city, a great deal about their condition. She testifies to a palpable sense of injustice based on an acute awareness of the inequity of gender relations. Tsehai Zerihun, and other women graduates with her, reinforced these feelings, and showed that one could be a woman and still be freer and more independent, albeit within the constraints of a patriarchal society.51

    43It is therefore possible to conclude that women seized the opportunity offered by the literacy classes to expand their space of freedom. More generally, did they not see the new structures created by the Derg—literacy classes, women’s associations and cooperatives—as an opportunity for emancipation through a greater inclusion in collective social activities? Moreover, Tsehai Berhane Selassie recalls that women’s associations were involved in political awareness-raising (Tsehai 1984, 18). It would therefore be interesting to stop looking at the phenomenon from above and discover what was actually going on inside these non-mixed spaces. Although the new political structures undoubtedly became increasingly restrictive, to the point where they led to a sense of dislike in the second half of the 1980s, this does not mean that women did not invest them with their own aspirations for a time. Did they not see these changes as beneficial to them? Although men remained at the helm of the political apparatus, did the large number of women attending literacy centres not show that women had begun to move?

    5. What does reading and writing mean?

    44How did farming communities appropriate the written word? What use did they make of it? Rather than understanding it “as a technology that has the same effect everywhere,” it is better to “grasp the way in which writing is always taken in particular cultural contexts and power relations, forbidding any generalisation about its effects, whether cognitive or social” (Fraenkel & Mbodj 2010, 13). It is therefore necessary first of all to look at the history of writing practices in Wolaita and the particular power relations in which writing was embedded.

    45By 1984, the nationwide illiteracy rate had fallen from 90% to 50% compared to 1974. Since the beginning of the campaign, 12 million people out of a total population of about 30 million had received their literacy certificate (Hoben 1994, 633–34). In view of the high failure rates in the final literacy examination reported in the official documents—two thirds in the first phase and one third in the third phase —it does not seem that the certificates were distributed in order to boost statistics.52 Indeed, it must have been very tempting to sacrifice quality for quantity in the programme (Clapham 1988, 152). Nonetheless, the literacy campaign is rightly considered by several authors to be the regime’s most impressive achievement (Balsvik 2007, 96), and Ethiopia was awarded the Literacy Prize by UNESCO as early as 1980.53 Nevertheless, the figures that appear in the 1994 national census suggest that the impact of the campaign should be played down. In the capital city of Wolaita, 73% of men and 61% of women were declared literate; in the surrounding countryside, the rates were 46% and 23% respectively. In the mountainous wereda of Kindo Koysha, the figures were 56% and 39% in the city of Bele, and 24% and 6% in rural areas.54 These are much lower than those announced by the Derg at the end of the 1990s. However, while the Derg may have been tempted to exaggerate the results, the EPRDF, which replaced it, may have been tempted to minimise them—EPRDF liked to claim that its own educational work started out from a catastrophic situation. Beyond these possible liberties taken with the statistics, this draws attention to the phenomenon of the loss of literacy skills, which has been particularly strong in rural areas due to the lack of a favourable literary environment for practising reading and writing. Anjulo Agago is one of those who have, as he puts it, forgotten: “I was one of those who read and wrote but with time I forgot, I moved backwards.”55

    46In the Wolaita countryside, the written word was intimately linked to Protestantism on the one hand, and to communications with the authorities and the production of legal documents on the other. The biblical texts in Wolaita and Amharic owned by the Protestant churches made up the entirety of literary resources in the countryside. In 1950, missionary Trimingham counted between 150 and 200 Christian communities, each gathered around a church with one or two gospels written in vernacular (Trimingham 1950, 34). Brian Fargher, who worked from the SIM archives, provides a higher figure; he reports that 900 copies of the Gospel of St John translated into vernacular were distributed in Wolaita in the 1940s (Fargher 1996, 169). While it is difficult to know the exact number of texts in circulation on the eve of the revolution, Tibebe Eshete recalls that Bibles translated into Amharic circulated abundantly from the 1960s because of their low price (Tibebe 2009, 375).

    47Although each Christian community had texts, contact with the written religious culture was, as mentioned above, by delegation. In Wolaita, tens of thousands of the faithful had access to the Bible through the mediation of a few hundred local church leaders. Rural communities also used delegation in the administrative field. The tiny minority of literate people in the countryside were all occasional public writers who were called upon to produce legal documents, but the need for these documents was too irregular for the written word to be included as a part of daily life. Finally, domestic writing practices were non-existent. In short, the written word had a real role in the Wolaita countryside, but it was not considered necessary for everyone to be able to read and write. A few community members—writing “professionals”—were enough to ensure that the largest numbers of people had access to written culture through delegation, this “collective and collaborative understanding of literacy” (Fraenkel & Mbodj 2010, 20). Anjulo Agago does not seem to be saddened by having “backed down,” by “forgetting” how to read and write. For him, the literacy campaign led to an advance in writing that still persists, despite the losses: “From four villages, if we were lucky, we would find one person who could write a legal document. We had to go a long way to find someone who knew how to read. Now it is available.”56 Three years after the end of the literacy campaign in 1994, the literacy rate in Dubbo, where Anjulo Agago lives, must have been close to that of the rural areas of Soddo canton, which was 40% (due to the proximity of the well-school-educated town of Areka).57 Compared with the rates in 1974, when less than 1% of the rural population knew how to read and write, literacy had made great progress. In the rural context, almost one in two people in the countryside could write—a significant proportion. Thus, the quotation above should be understood within the logic of the delegation of writing applied by peasants. Delegating writing has been radically simplified since the literacy campaign. It has not “eradicated the scourge of illiteracy,” but it has entrenched the presence of the written word in the countryside. In a context in which the written word was the attribute of power, the literacy campaign reduced the vulnerability of peasants vis-à-vis the administration. Having an official document written by a member of the community, by a neighbour, rather than by an unknown public writer does not have the same meaning in terms of power relations. Whether or not everyone knows how to read and write, the advance of the written word has led to a collective empowerment of peasant communities. In individual terms, those who claim they have “forgotten” also say that they still know how to write their names. Being able to sign one’s name is crucial in all Ethiopia’s rural areas. According to Abeje Mammo, who was a teenager in a village in Lasta, in the north, during the campaign: “It was very interesting for the farmers. Before, to sign, they were afraid to point their finger… it is better to write, it is very important.”58 The peasants thought it degrading to sign with a fingerprint (Pankhurst 1990, 64). For Baye Maereg, a farmer in Lasta, signing is the most important thing the literacy campaign brought him.59 The Wolaita peasant Mana Madibo says the same. If signing is so important, it is because it is an act of communication with power and gives a measure of dignity to a relationship of domination. No longer signing with a fingerprint also means being able to understand what one is signing and therefore to feel politically less vulnerable.

    48The second consequence of the literacy campaign is that it brought education to the villages in a sustainable way. For the first time, no family was left out. Teacher Girma Bekele’s recollections testify to the visibility of the campaign, to its inclusion in the rural landscape: “The Derg arrived and decreed basic education. […] They recited: ‘hä hu hi, lä lu li, mä mu mi, rä ru ri’ that’s it! All of them! In every place, in the whole wereda! In the other wereda it was the same.”60 This educational activity was added to other activities to give a rhythm to the life of the communities. It helped make school-type education a part of the life of the population. For some, this was a first step towards further education. Only a small minority of adults attended the training centres organised as part of the post-literacy process. Most of those who wished to continue studying went to school, where evening classes were introduced for newly literate adults (McNab 1990, 70). The literacy campaign was then used as a gateway to formal education in a context of social advancement.

    When basic education came, at that time, I was in grade 8. It was the Derg who brought it, by imposing it, they taught the peasants by force. […] Some of those who received basic education by being forced have good positions. There are some who work in the administration for the region, the zone, the canton, there are some who work in many places. There are also some in the Education Office. And they worked during the Derg. It was the Derg that opened people’s eyes. After the arrival of the Derg, people made progress. Schools were established everywhere. The Derg also made people equal. It was the Derg that opened the door to freedom between people. First of all, it made people equal, it made the weak and the strong become the same.”61

    49This witness believes that through its educational actions, the Derg “opened the eyes” of the population to education as a means of social promotion and collective progress. Like Mana Madibo, he believes that it was well worth using force.

    5.1 Vernacular or Amharic?

    50With the written word, the literacy campaign led to an unprecedented advance in Amharic. It was necessary to wash away the injustices of the past oppression of nationalities and to continue the national unification work of the previous regime, to promote local languages and to spread the national language. In 1985, the linguist Lionel Bender wrote that the military regime had continued the policy of promoting Amharic (Bender 1985, 277). On the contrary, according to the Wolaita teacher and school headmaster Zebdewos Chama: “All books were prepared in the Wolaita language, there were no Amharic at all in the literacy campaign.”62 On the other hand, Susan Hoben points out that in the later years of the campaign, there were increasing demands to learn in Amharic, and textbooks in other languages were being sent back to Addis Ababa (Hoben 1994, 637). These contradictions reflect a complex and ambiguous phenomenon provoked by both technical and political issues.

    51Firstly, putting languages into a written form implied a process of codification and standardisation that posed serious problems because of the dialectal differences among vernacular languages (McNab 1990, 75). While linguists at the Language Academy in Addis Ababa were working to put the dialects in order to develop teaching materials, students in the provinces who were learning with the same materials no longer recognised their language. In addition, some languages contained sounds that were foreign to the Amharic alphabet. This meant that adaptations had to be made that were not always obvious to readers. For example, it was reported that local instructors, who were literate in Amharic but in contact with their mother tongue in its written form for the first time, had difficulty reading textbooks (Hoben 1994, 635). Second, learning in vernacular was too limited for those who wished to continue their education or simply use their reading skills. Proficiency in Amharic was essential for entry into formal schools, where instruction was always in the national language. Apart from a few rare translations of religious texts, the only books that existed in local languages were the booklets and reading manuals produced by the Ministry of Education for the literacy campaign. The possibilities offered by literature in Amharic were far wider. One of the aims of literacy was to provide access to texts on national issues. However, apart from one magazine in Oromo and another in Tigrigna, newspapers and magazines were all written in Amharic (Sherr 1989, 438). In short, to emerge from marginalisation into the national space on a full footing meant knowing Amharic.

    52Finally, as elsewhere, knowledge of the national language was part of the relationship with power and the nation. No one could be a fully-fledged citizen without speaking Amharic. The language of power remains a language of oppression for as long as it has not been mastered. Amharic was the language used for dealing with the administration, which was a key literacy issue for both the government and the people (Clapham 1988, 153). The government wanted to provide literacy in vernacular languages, but local governments always worked in Amharic. It was also local governments that provided employment opportunities, and thus upward social mobility, for newly-literate people. In addition to these factors driving people towards Amharic, there was also a question of identity: southern nationalities had less reason to reject Amharic if their own language was no longer devalued. Why not become part of a nation that no longer despises us? In short, the relationship to the languages of instruction was played out in an overlapping of affiliations—local and national, Wolaita and Ethiopian—which could be complementary or in opposition, depending on the context.

    53In southwestern Ethiopia, this language policy raised another issue, which would later prove to be fraught with consequences: that of competition among peripheral societies for their place within the national space.

    5.2 Language issues on the periphery: Gamo intellectuals against literacy in the Wolaita language

    54Wolaita is an Omotic language, a characteristic it shares with the neighbouring languages spoken by the Gamo, Goffa and Dawro. But it was the language with the largest number of speakers among the minority languages. Many Gamo, Goffa and Dawro spoke it. For all these reasons, the Derg decided that the Wolaita language would be used to teach literacy to all the populations who spoke Omotic languages.

    55Gebre-Mikael Kuke was an important player in the literacy campaign in Wolaita. Known as the host of the literacy programme on radio, he was author and editor of the Wolaita language textbooks used during the campaign. He recalls that a meeting was held at the Ministry of Culture in Addis Ababa in 1984 on the design of a future Amharic-Wolaita dictionary. The Gamo intellectuals in attendance made the point that the dictionary should not only be in Wolaita, as it was to serve as a basis for textbooks for Gamo, Goffa and Dawro people too. They proposed the creation of a new language, a compound of the four Omotic languages that they suggested to name WoGaGoDa. The Wolaita refused, claiming that it was not a “historical” or “cultural” language. The Ministry of Education sided with them and ordered the textbooks to be prepared in Wolaita. A year later, Gebre-Mikael Kuke went to Gamo to present the new literacy textbooks in Wolaita and train the instructors. They raised the same issue again, saying that they wanted the WoGaGoDa and that they would not teach in a language called Wolaita because they were not Wolaita. Gebre-Mikael Kuke reported the discussion to the Ministry of Education and to the Ministry of Culture. In 1986, a meeting was held at the Curriculum Department to decide on the matter. The order was once again given to teach the whole region in the Wolaita language.63

    56These debates took place in the context of the historical hegemony of the Wolaita in the region and heralded an identity competition among the peripheries for better representation in the Ethiopian space. The language of instruction was seen as a means of visibility, and therefore of recognition, in the national cultural field. It was the place of the first mobilisation of identity to establish a political existence in the nation as a group. The WoGaGoDa question was to resurface in 1999–2000 (Data 2000; Vaughan 2006; Guidi 2012).

    Conclusion

    57The issue is not whether the literacy campaign “kept its promises”—of development, emancipation, spreading socialist consciousness and so on—but to try to grasp the multiple social dynamics that converged around it. Motivated by a resolutely voluntarist policy, the government made considerable efforts to design it and mobilise the population. On the other hand, the people’s movement towards literacy centres, between coercion and voluntary action, makes it possible to detect an appropriation process that is the outcome of a varied repertoire of motivations. First, the years between 1979 and 1985 saw the rural population trying to adapt to the new regime by engaging with the transformations it was driving. Rural communities viewed literacy as part of a policy for their benefit. Second, the advance of the written word has reduced vulnerability to the administration, which exercised its power through it: it has contributed, in a small but real way, to transforming the relationship with political power. Third, literacy has been the subject of strategies for social uplift enabled by the growth of the administrative apparatus out to the local fabric of the countryside. As the state moves forward, it controls and represses, but at the same time it can become less alien by being engaged with increasing numbers of local community members. For their part, rural women, who had always been excluded from the exercise of political power, took advantage of the literacy campaign not only to acquire knowledge that was directly useful to their daily lives but also to broaden their scope for autonomy. Did this movement of the Wolaita countryside alongside the advance of the state take place in the context of the emergence—albeit a timid one—of a new national imagination? There was a clear desire for integration within peasant communities. The literacy campaign was seen as a gesture of promotion within the national space. While land reform represented an emancipation of the peasants as a class, the recognition of vernacular languages promised an end—at least in theory—to the symbolic violence exercised by the north over the south; it constituted promotion as a nationality. The literacy campaign was conceived as a medium-term mass action, combined with an extension of the primary school network as a long-term strategy.

    Notes de bas de page

    1MOE, Every Ethiopian Will Know How to Read and Write and Forever (1981), 10.

    2 MOI, Ethiopia Today: Education (1973), 23.

    3MOE, Every Ethiopian Will Know How to Read and Write and Forever (1981), 11.

    4 MOI, Ethiopia Today: Education (1973), 23.

    5 “Yemesrach Dems” means “The Voice of Good News” in Amharic.

    6 MOI, Ethiopia Today: Education (1973), 24.

    7 UNESCO, Ethiopia. Work-Oriented Adult Literacy Pilot Project (Paris: UNESCO, 1975), 1.

    8 Ibid., 2 and 5.

    9 Ibid. 3.

    10 Ibid., 4.

    11 Ibid. 6–7.

    12 Ibid. iv.

    13 MOE, Every Ethiopian Will Know How to Read and Write and Forever (1981), 11.

    14 MOE, Information Paper on the Education System in Ethiopia (1982), 10.

    15MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 19

    16 Ibid., 21.

    17 Ibid., 43–44.

    18 Ibid., 41.

    19Demeke Melesse (teacher), interview, Lalibela, 20 February 2008.

    20 MOE, Every Ethiopian Will Know How to Read and Write and Forever (1981), 39.

    21 MOE, Information Paper on the Education System in Ethiopia (1982), 9.

    22 MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 23–24.

    23 MOE, Information Paper on the Education System in Ethiopia (1982), 10–11.

    24 MOE, የኅብረት ሥራ ማኅበር ትምህርት ትምህርት ፥ ሁለተኛ መጽሐፍ (Worker Cooperatives, book 2) (1979); MOE, ሙያ ነክ ምንባብ ምንባብ ፥ ፫ (Book of Reading on Skills, Book 3) (1983).

    25 MOE, የኅብረት ሥራ ማኅበር ትምህርት ትምህርት ፥ ሁለተኛ መጽሐፍ (Worker Cooperatives, Book 2) (1979), introduction.

    26 Ibid., 12.

    27 MOE, ሙያ ነክ ምንባብ ምንባብ ፥ ፫ (Book of Reading on Skills, Book 3) (1983), introduction.

    28 MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 29.

    29 UNESCO, The Use of Vernacular Languages in Education (Paris, 1953).

    30 Abraham Babanto, ጥንታዊት እና እና ዘመናዊት ዎላይታ (The Ancient Wolaita and Contemporary Wolaita) (1979), 7–10.

    31 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010. On delegated writing, see Gérard (2002).

    32 Zerihun Anebo (teacher), interview, Soddo, 5 December 2010.

    33 MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 25.

    34 Zerihun Anebo (teacher), interview, Soddo, 5 December 2010.

    35 Abraham Worku, interview, January 2011.

    36 Asela Gujubo (recorded discussion with Abraham Worku, 2 January 2011, Gesuba).

    37 This story is reported and commented on by Solomon Maereg, who was a pupil under the Derg (interview, Lalibela, 7 February 2007).

    38 The clip is available on the internet: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xi9UQrNiDY; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQjxZ8ZgYOo (accessed 16 November 2023).

    39 Demissie Minamo (teacher), interview, Soddo, 5 December 2010.

    40 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010; Assefa Wolde-Giorgis (public writer, miller, merchant), interview, Lalibela, 7 February 2007.

    41 Yemesrach Alula, interview, January 2010.

    42 Mana Madibo, interview, December 2010.

    43 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010.

    44 In the second half of the 1980s, as the war against the Eritrean independence movement intensified, young people were a pool for soldiers, and they paid a heavy price for the regime’s stubbornness.

    45 Mana Madibo, interview, December 2010.

    46 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010.

    47 Assefa Wolde-Giorgis, interview, February 2007.

    48 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010.

    49 Yaluse Mita, interview, November 2009. See Chapter 6.

    50 Tsehai Zerihun, interview, January 2011.

    51 Ibid.

    52MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 10.

    53 Ibid., iii.

    54 CSA, The Population and Housing Census of Ethiopia, Results from the southern Nations,’ Nationalities’ and Peoples’ Regional State. Statistical Report on Education and Economic Activity (1995), 74.

    55 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010.

    56 Ibid.

    57 CSA, The Population and Housing Census of Ethiopia… (1995), 74.

    58 Abeje Mamo (employee of the NGO Plan International), interview, Lalibela, 14 February 2008.

    59 Baye Maereg, interview, February 2008.

    60 Germa Bekele, interview, December 2010.

    61 Arjo Anjulo (university graduate), interview, Dubbo, 10 December 2010.

    62 Zebdewos Chama, interview, November 2010.

    63 Gebre-Mikael Kuke, interview, November 2010.

    Précédent Suivant
    Table des matières

    Creative Commons - Attribution - Partage dans les Mêmes Conditions 4.0 International - CC BY-SA 4.0

    Le texte seul est utilisable sous licence Creative Commons - Attribution - Partage dans les Mêmes Conditions 4.0 International - CC BY-SA 4.0. Les autres éléments (illustrations, fichiers annexes importés) sont « Tous droits réservés », sauf mention contraire.

    Voir plus de livres
    Educating the Nation in Ethiopia

    Educating the Nation in Ethiopia

    State, Society and Identity in Wolaita (1941–1991)

    Pierre Guidi Simon Dix (trad.)

    2024

    History of Women in Ethiopia

    History of Women in Ethiopia

    Margaux Herman (dir.)

    2024

    Mekelle Stories: Life in Time of War

    Mekelle Stories: Life in Time of War

    Anonymous

    2025

    Home- and Future- Making in the Ethiopian Diaspora

    Home- and Future- Making in the Ethiopian Diaspora

    Sophia Thubauville et Kim Glück (dir.)

    2025

    Voir plus de livres
    1 / 4
    Educating the Nation in Ethiopia

    Educating the Nation in Ethiopia

    State, Society and Identity in Wolaita (1941–1991)

    Pierre Guidi Simon Dix (trad.)

    2024

    History of Women in Ethiopia

    History of Women in Ethiopia

    Margaux Herman (dir.)

    2024

    Mekelle Stories: Life in Time of War

    Mekelle Stories: Life in Time of War

    Anonymous

    2025

    Home- and Future- Making in the Ethiopian Diaspora

    Home- and Future- Making in the Ethiopian Diaspora

    Sophia Thubauville et Kim Glück (dir.)

    2025

    Accès ouvert

    Accès ouvert

    ePub

    PDF

    PDF du chapitre

    1MOE, Every Ethiopian Will Know How to Read and Write and Forever (1981), 10.

    2 MOI, Ethiopia Today: Education (1973), 23.

    3MOE, Every Ethiopian Will Know How to Read and Write and Forever (1981), 11.

    4 MOI, Ethiopia Today: Education (1973), 23.

    5 “Yemesrach Dems” means “The Voice of Good News” in Amharic.

    6 MOI, Ethiopia Today: Education (1973), 24.

    7 UNESCO, Ethiopia. Work-Oriented Adult Literacy Pilot Project (Paris: UNESCO, 1975), 1.

    8 Ibid., 2 and 5.

    9 Ibid. 3.

    10 Ibid., 4.

    11 Ibid. 6–7.

    12 Ibid. iv.

    13 MOE, Every Ethiopian Will Know How to Read and Write and Forever (1981), 11.

    14 MOE, Information Paper on the Education System in Ethiopia (1982), 10.

    15MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 19

    16 Ibid., 21.

    17 Ibid., 43–44.

    18 Ibid., 41.

    19Demeke Melesse (teacher), interview, Lalibela, 20 February 2008.

    20 MOE, Every Ethiopian Will Know How to Read and Write and Forever (1981), 39.

    21 MOE, Information Paper on the Education System in Ethiopia (1982), 9.

    22 MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 23–24.

    23 MOE, Information Paper on the Education System in Ethiopia (1982), 10–11.

    24 MOE, የኅብረት ሥራ ማኅበር ትምህርት ትምህርት ፥ ሁለተኛ መጽሐፍ (Worker Cooperatives, book 2) (1979); MOE, ሙያ ነክ ምንባብ ምንባብ ፥ ፫ (Book of Reading on Skills, Book 3) (1983).

    25 MOE, የኅብረት ሥራ ማኅበር ትምህርት ትምህርት ፥ ሁለተኛ መጽሐፍ (Worker Cooperatives, Book 2) (1979), introduction.

    26 Ibid., 12.

    27 MOE, ሙያ ነክ ምንባብ ምንባብ ፥ ፫ (Book of Reading on Skills, Book 3) (1983), introduction.

    28 MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 29.

    29 UNESCO, The Use of Vernacular Languages in Education (Paris, 1953).

    30 Abraham Babanto, ጥንታዊት እና እና ዘመናዊት ዎላይታ (The Ancient Wolaita and Contemporary Wolaita) (1979), 7–10.

    31 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010. On delegated writing, see Gérard (2002).

    32 Zerihun Anebo (teacher), interview, Soddo, 5 December 2010.

    33 MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 25.

    34 Zerihun Anebo (teacher), interview, Soddo, 5 December 2010.

    35 Abraham Worku, interview, January 2011.

    36 Asela Gujubo (recorded discussion with Abraham Worku, 2 January 2011, Gesuba).

    37 This story is reported and commented on by Solomon Maereg, who was a pupil under the Derg (interview, Lalibela, 7 February 2007).

    38 The clip is available on the internet: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xi9UQrNiDY; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQjxZ8ZgYOo (accessed 16 November 2023).

    39 Demissie Minamo (teacher), interview, Soddo, 5 December 2010.

    40 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010; Assefa Wolde-Giorgis (public writer, miller, merchant), interview, Lalibela, 7 February 2007.

    41 Yemesrach Alula, interview, January 2010.

    42 Mana Madibo, interview, December 2010.

    43 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010.

    44 In the second half of the 1980s, as the war against the Eritrean independence movement intensified, young people were a pool for soldiers, and they paid a heavy price for the regime’s stubbornness.

    45 Mana Madibo, interview, December 2010.

    46 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010.

    47 Assefa Wolde-Giorgis, interview, February 2007.

    48 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010.

    49 Yaluse Mita, interview, November 2009. See Chapter 6.

    50 Tsehai Zerihun, interview, January 2011.

    51 Ibid.

    52MOE, Every Ethiopian… (1981), 10.

    53 Ibid., iii.

    54 CSA, The Population and Housing Census of Ethiopia, Results from the southern Nations,’ Nationalities’ and Peoples’ Regional State. Statistical Report on Education and Economic Activity (1995), 74.

    55 Anjulo Agago, interview, December 2010.

    56 Ibid.

    57 CSA, The Population and Housing Census of Ethiopia… (1995), 74.

    58 Abeje Mamo (employee of the NGO Plan International), interview, Lalibela, 14 February 2008.

    59 Baye Maereg, interview, February 2008.

    60 Germa Bekele, interview, December 2010.

    61 Arjo Anjulo (university graduate), interview, Dubbo, 10 December 2010.

    62 Zebdewos Chama, interview, November 2010.

    63 Gebre-Mikael Kuke, interview, November 2010.

    Educating the Nation in Ethiopia

    X Facebook Email

    Educating the Nation in Ethiopia

    Vous pouvez vous connecter à votre bibliothèque à l’adresse suivante : https://freemium.openedition.org/oebooks

    Suggérer l’acquisition à votre bibliothèque

    Si vous avez des questions, vous pouvez nous écrire à access[at]openedition.org

    Educating the Nation in Ethiopia

    Vérifiez si votre bibliothèque a déjà acquis ce livre : authentifiez-vous à OpenEdition Freemium for Books.

    Vous pouvez suggérer à votre bibliothèque d’acquérir un ou plusieurs livres publiés sur OpenEdition Books. N’hésitez pas à lui indiquer nos coordonnées : access[at]openedition.org

    Vous pouvez également nous indiquer, à l’aide du formulaire suivant, les coordonnées de votre bibliothèque afin que nous la contactions pour lui suggérer l’achat de ce livre. Les champs suivis de (*) sont obligatoires.

    Veuillez, s’il vous plaît, remplir tous les champs.

    La syntaxe de l’email est incorrecte.

    Référence numérique du chapitre

    Format

    Guidi, P. (2024). The Literacy Campaign: A Matrix for the New Society? (1979–1985). In Educating the Nation in Ethiopia (1‑). Centre français des études éthiopiennes. https://doi.org/10.4000/12iyd
    Guidi, Pierre. « The Literacy Campaign: A Matrix for the New Society? (1979–1985) ». In Educating the Nation in Ethiopia. Addis-Abeba: Centre français des études éthiopiennes, 2024. https://doi.org/10.4000/12iyd.
    Guidi, Pierre. « The Literacy Campaign: A Matrix for the New Society? (1979–1985) ». Educating the Nation in Ethiopia, Centre français des études éthiopiennes, 2024, https://doi.org/10.4000/12iyd.

    Référence numérique du livre

    Format

    Guidi, P. (2024). Educating the Nation in Ethiopia (S. Dix, Trad.; 1‑). Centre français des études éthiopiennes. https://doi.org/10.4000/12iy3
    Guidi, Pierre. Educating the Nation in Ethiopia. Traduit par Simon Dix. Addis-Abeba: Centre français des études éthiopiennes, 2024. https://doi.org/10.4000/12iy3.
    Guidi, Pierre. Educating the Nation in Ethiopia. Traduit par Simon Dix, Centre français des études éthiopiennes, 2024, https://doi.org/10.4000/12iy3.
    Compatible avec Zotero Zotero

    1 / 3

    Centre français des études éthiopiennes

    Centre français des études éthiopiennes

    • Plan du site
    • Se connecter

    Suivez-nous

    • Flux RSS

    URL : http://www.cfee.cnrs.fr

    Email : secretariat@cfee.cnrs.fr

    Adresse :

    Ambassade de France en Éthiopie

    PO Box 5554

    Addis-Abeba

    Éthiopie

    OpenEdition
    • Candidater à OpenEdition Books
    • Connaître le programme OpenEdition Freemium
    • Commander des livres
    • S’abonner à la lettre d’OpenEdition
    • CGU d’OpenEdition Books
    • Accessibilité : partiellement conforme
    • Données personnelles
    • Gestion des cookies
    • Système de signalement