Lessons from Oromo Liberation: The Pitfalls of Factionalism
A Commentary on Factionalism and Fidelity: Lessons from the Oromo Liberation Struggle
The history of any protracted liberation movement is often marked not only by external conflict but by the internal tremors of factionalism and dissent. The Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), as the vanguard of the Oromo national struggle for self-determination, has been no stranger to these internal fractures. A recurring narrative emerges across decades: groups breaking away in protest, creating a moment of internal chaos and heightened rhetoric, only to ultimately seek refuge or alignment with the very forces the movement was founded to oppose.
This pattern is worth examining. In 1998, a faction rebelled, sowing what is described as “chaos” within the struggle’s camp. Soon after, figures like the Biqilcha Sanyii group gathered and surrendered to the TPLF camp—the ruling party in Ethiopia that the OLF was fundamentally contesting. A decade later, in 2008, a group styling itself “Change” staged another revolt, creating a similar atmosphere of internal terror before fragmenting and, like the earlier Lichoo Bukuraa group, entering the TPLF fold.
These episodes, and the more recent schisms post-2018—such as the faction led by Jireenyaa Guddataa—follow a disturbingly familiar script. The dissidents frame all the struggles’ challenges and failures as creations of the OLF leadership itself. They present their rebellion as a necessary corrective, a purifying force. Yet, their trajectory often leads not to the renewal of the struggle, but to its weakening and, paradoxically, to the camp of the adversary.
This recurring fate points to a fundamental, painful lesson for liberation movements: The problem of struggle is not solved by rebellion against one’s own political home.
The immediate allure of schism is clear. It offers a clean break from perceived stagnation, a platform for new voices, and a dramatic claim to moral or strategic superiority. It channels frustration into action, even if that action is turned inward. However, when such rebellions are rooted primarily in opposition—in defining oneself against the parent organization rather than for a coherent, sustainable alternative—they often become politically orphaned. Lacking a deep, independent base and a clear path to victory, they become vulnerable to co-option or absorption by external powers eager to exploit divisions within their opposition.
The commentary concludes with a powerful, counterintuitive axiom: “The problem of struggle is solved by submission to one’s own values and principles, patience and determination to overcome it.”
This is not a call for blind obedience, but for a deeper, more difficult fidelity. It suggests that the solution to internal crisis lies not in fragmentation but in rigorous recommitment to the core values and principles that birthed the movement: self-determination, democratic practice, justice, and the primacy of the Oromo people’s cause. It calls for the patience to engage in internal reform, dialogue, and criticism without the poison of treachery. It demands the determination to endure hardship, strategic setbacks, and internal debate as part of the long march toward liberation.
The historical pattern within the OLF suggests that splits which are reactions, not revolutions—that are born of frustration without a foundational vision—ultimately serve to validate the resilience of the original struggle’s framework, even as they wound it. They become cautionary tales, reminding current and future generations that the most perilous terrain for a liberation movement is often not the battlefield ahead, but the divisive ground under its own feet. True strength, the narrative implies, is found not in the ease of walking away, but in the hard labor of staying, rebuilding, and holding fast to the principles that make the walk meaningful.