By Koste Abdiisaa (Political Commentary)

Since last week, a familiar yet troubling political theatre has unfolded on our social media feeds. The return of former Oromia president Mr. Hassan Ali has been met not with sober reflection, but with a coordinated campaign of glorification. The volume and tenor of this noise are not organic; they are a political product. And they demand a critical question: Why the aggressive, sudden need to rewrite a man’s past?

Let us be clear: the return of any individual is, in itself, a neutral event. What is not neutral is the systematic attempt to whitewash a deeply problematic political record against the backdrop of profound, ongoing suffering. Mr. Hassan Ali, like millions of Oromos, was once a vocal critic of the very system he later led. Yet, his presidency under the OPDO—the regional arm of the then-ruling EPRDF—was not a period of liberation. It was a chapter in the same grim story of state-sanctioned violence against the Oromo people.

Historical memory cannot be deleted by a hashtag. It was under the governance structure he led that figures like Nadhii Gammadaa, Dararaa Kafanii, and Jireenyaa Adunyaa were executed or forcibly disappeared. It was a system that normalized imprisonment, exile, and death for countless innocent Oromos. To launch a social media campaign that glosses over this reality is not just revisionism; it is an insult to the victims and their families who still seek justice.

Therefore, the fixation on whether he is being praised misses the point. The urgent questions are strategic and forward-looking:

1. Why now? Why has the Prosperity Party (PP) and the Shimelis Abdisa administration chosen this precise moment to facilitate and amplify his return? Is it coincidental that this occurs amid escalating political and security crises in Oromia and other regions?
2. What is the political calculus? The PP is not a charitable organization. Its every move is tactical. Is Hassan Ali’s return intended as a distraction, a shiny object to divert public attention from state failures? Is it an attempt to create a semblance of “reconciliation” with a discredited faction to split opposition sentiment? Or, more cynically, is it the first move in grooming him as a “reformed” candidate for a future managed election, providing a veneer of Oromo leadership while serving PP’s centralist agenda?
3. Who benefits from the noise? The sheer volume of orchestrated praise serves to drown out these very questions. It aims to replace critical analysis with emotional reception, shifting the narrative from accountability to celebrity.

History offers a clear lesson: the political machinery Hassan Ali once served has never acted without cold, strategic intent. Invitations back into the fold are extended not as acts of grace, but as moves on a chessboard.

My apprehension is not personal. It is political. At this stage of his life, one hopes Mr. Hassan Ali would seek a legacy of truth, not convenience. To become a pawn in a strategy designed to legitimize a system that continues to oppress his own people would be to stand, once more, on the wrong side of history.

Ultimately, the Oromo struggle for justice, self-determination, and dignity is larger than any individual. It will not be derailed by a rebranding campaign or short-term political maneuvering by the PP. The people’s quest for accountability is relentless.

However, for the individual, history offers a space for reflection and correction. The most consequential mistakes are often those we repeat. The real test is whether this return is a step toward genuine atonement and independent voice, or whether it is a political trap—for him, and a painkiller for a government under pressure. Only time will reveal the true diagnosis, but we must not let the noise of the moment silence our critical inquiry. The past is prologue, and ignoring its lessons is a luxury the Oromo nation can no longer afford.