A Reader’s Plea

“Dear Gudu, does መቀራረብ = መተዋወቅ?”

This was how the email started. 

   The email was long, candid and deeply introspective. The writer, who is a reader of ours, didn't bother with pleasantries. He seemed to have a lot on his mind and preferred to be direct. 

So, he continued: 

 “Maybe your family and friends are different from mine, but my loved ones are a little old fashioned. 

Well… not just a little. 

  They are conservative, sure. But they also have this ability to use a lot of words yet still manage to not say much. 

 Especially when they talk about “big social issues”.  

  I didn't notice it when I was young, but now it's all I see. Some might call it a skill; like a lesson in subtlety. Or maybe it's some kind of custom? I don't know. 

  But even though I don’t know what to call it, I have been around this “thing” long enough to know its important qualities. 

  I know, for example, that it's deeply implied. None of my loved ones would openly admit to their chatty yet guarded ways. I also know that it’s heavily scripted (good luck hearing any radical takes from this bunch). But, most importantly, I know that this custom of theirs is based on one important idea: 

PUBLIC DISCUSSIONS DON’T CALL FOR PRIVATE THOUGHTS !!! 

Let me explain.” 

   The writer would go on to list a series of discussions that made him feel this way. 

  He described his loved ones as being experts in enforcing this custom, especially when discussing issues like women’s rights, education, immigration, children’s rights and religious fundamentalism. 

 He noticed how his friends and family openly discouraged dissent and confused thoughtful criticism with disrespect and independent opinions with deviancy. 

 He also noticed how polite conversations quickly devolved into shouting matches, especially when the group’s consensus was met with some resistance. And as labels like “ፈረንጅ” and “አጉል ዘመናዊ” begin to be thrown around, our writer began to realize one thing. 

  He realized that he, and others like him, were not expected to be honest; they were expected to conform. They were expected to trim their statements to the dictates of mainstream opinion, whether they believed in it or not. 

  Which is why he ended his email by saying this: 

 “I have now learned the invaluable lesson that: 

መቀራረብ ≠ መተዋወቅ

  So I keep my “problematic” opinions to myself and wear my social mask out of necessity.  

  I try to avoid those cultural discussions that I used to love so much. But, if I’m forced to participate, I do so in the safest way I can: scripted, guarded and always conventional. For there are some things we say because we must. 

But what do you think, Gudu? 

  Do you not see a difference between being familiar with someone and being authentic with them? Are you as transparent and vocal with your loved ones as you are in your articles? Or do you, like ከበደ ሚካኤል, also believe that: 

“ቃል ለሰው የተሰጠው ዐሳቡን እንዲገልጥበት ሳይሆን ዐሳቡን እንዲሸፍንበት ነው።” 

እኛ ኢትዮጵያውያንና ምክር

A History Lesson

Dear writer, 

  Before I answer your questions, I have some questions of my own:  

  How many authors, do you think, have analyzed our attitude towards non-conformity? 

  You are right about ከበደ ሚካኤል, but did you ever consider the possibility that there could be more? 

 Maybe you’ve heard of authors like ፊታውራሪ ተክለ ሐዋርያት ተክለ ማርያም, ወልደ ሕይወት and ሀዲስ ዓለማየሁ. But did you know that they repeatedly critiqued our touchy and cynical attitude towards non-conformity? So much so that one of our country’s most celebrated authors put it like this: 

“አይ በዛብህ! ለካ ለምትኖርበት አለም ገና እንግዳ ነህ! ሰው ሁሉ እንደሚያምነው ካላመንህ ሰው ሁሉ የሚሄድበትን መንገድ ተከትለህ ካልሄድህ ሁሉም ጉዳይ አድርጎ ይይዘዋል እንጂ ማን የራሱ ጉዳይ ነው ብሎ ይተውሀል?” 

ጉዱ ካሳ in “ፍቅር እስከ መቃብር”

I’ll ask you yet another question: 

  Did you know that Ethiopian writers have also written about this “custom” that you so frequently saw among your loved ones? Were you aware that writers like ግርማቸው ተክለ ሐዋርያት and ዓለማየሁ ሞገስ consistently wrote about our chatty yet guarded ways? In fact, you can even find our use of social masks being discussed as far back as 1667: 

“ሰዎች እንዲደለሉ ይፈልጋሉ። እውነቱን ብገልጽላቸው ትልቅ ጥፋት ይሆናል እንጂ ጥቅም የለውም፤ ይሰድቡኝና ያሳድዱኛል እንጂ አይሰሙኝም። ስለዚህ ከሰዎች ጋር እንደነሱ ሆኜ እኖራለሁ።” 

ዘርዓያቆብ in “ሐተታ ዘርዓያቆብ”

Need more examples? No problem. 

  How about writers like ዳኛቸው ወርቁ and ነጋድራስ ገብረ ሕይወት ባይከዳኝ? Writers who have long understood that authentic self-expression, especially when it goes against conventional beliefs, has dire consequences. However much you are in the right: 

“ምናለ ታዲያ ትውጣ! ለመቆየት ብትፈልግ ያገሬውን የቀየውን ደንብ ተከትላ ትቆይ! አለበለዚያ ደግሞ እምቢ ካለች መሄዱ የራሷ ፈንታ ነው።” 

አቶ ጥሶ in “አደፍርስ”

  I say all this to make one simple point: I understand. 

  I understand that what you experienced with your loved ones and what you ultimately decided to do is as relatable as it is defensible. 

  In fact, I imagine most of our readers have not only repressed their contrarian opinions but have done so because they understand one thing. They understand that our scripted and guarded form of consensus is sometimes engineered through fear: the fear of being misunderstood, the fear of being mis-seen, the fear of being taken out of context and most importantly, the fear of being labeled.   

  And so we Ethiopians, young, old, regular people and famous authors alike, are well acquainted with the idea that we must go along to get along. 

   But just because we recognize a social phenomenon doesn't mean we fully understand it. 

So, my dear reader, I ask you this: 

 Why are we so comfortable with camouflaging our deeply held convictions? Why is there a clear difference between what we say in public and what we hold in our private thoughts? Why do we feel the need to prove our loyalty to ideas that we simply do not believe in? 

Is it just fear? 

Is it to be deceptive? 

Is it to avoid conflict? 

Or is it something else?  

A System of Expectations

 Now it bears mentioning that this “custom”, this habit of performing conformity, isn't an overlooked area of research. In fact, when Ethiopian writers were describing our chatty yet scripted ways, their scientific peers were busy proving their well-founded observations.

  For example, the 1950s and 1960s gave us researchers like Morton Deutsch, Harold Gerar and Solomon Asch, who looked at society’s system of expectations and the penalties that are imposed on those that don't live up to them. 

   These researchers would go on to make a direct link between our strictly imposed expectations and our performative compliance, leading to this rather obvious yet important finding: 

The more severe the penalties are for non-conformity, the more we refrain from genuine self-expression for fear of judgment, alienation and ridicule. 

  Researchers in the 1980s would build on this by looking at how people preserve their deeply held yet unconventional ideas in societies like ours. 

  Whether it’s Arnold Buss, Stephen  Briggs, James Tedeschi or Roy Baumeister, each of these academics pointed to a successful tactic that has been used for a very long time. This tactic, although it might seem dishonest, is effective because it allows us to do one thing. It allows us to maintain our unpopular beliefs without facing the consequences of non-conformity. 

  Our writer referred to this practice as the “scripted custom of his loved ones”, but scientists called it by another name. They called it social masking, which is when we: 

Deliberately, actively and strategically perform a persona that is socially acceptable. 

  And whilst scientists were describing this social phenomenon in this way, our forefathers described it like this: 

“ማወቅ እናውቃለን ፤ ብንናገር እናልቃለን” 

  But it's the 1990s that would give us the most important insight into why we routinely sacrifice self expression for social comfort. 

 Whether you are reading the likes of Mark Leary, Robin Kowalski or Barry Schlenker, these researchers convincingly argued that social masking is a learned skill. 

 One that we are taught when we are young. 

 Meaning that the more we face the pressures of absolute conformity when we are children, the more we separate our privately held beliefs from our publicly stated positions. And the more we are punished for our independent ways, the more we learn how to convincingly say what we are expected to say.

In other words: 

By the time we are adults, we have enough lived experience to comfortably wear our social masks.  

  This perspective, although overlooked, is important because it explains one crucial thing. It explains why social masking has become so easy and so guilt-free for people like you and me.

  For those of us who grew up in rigid and conformist societies have been conditioned, from a very young age, to know that:  

There is a difference between being familiar with someone and being authentic with them. 

  And it’s by the 2000s that this “custom” of social masking would not only be well understood. It would also be called by many names. Some like Ihor Popovych and Delroy  Paulhus called it “Impression Management”. Other social psychologists called it “Public Self Consciousness” and philosophers like Harry  Frankfurt  referred to it as “Bullshit”. 

   And our forefathers? Well, they put it like this: 

“ዕብድና ዘበናይ የልቡን ይናገራል።” 

Unmasking Ourselves

   But in our rush to prioritize social comfort over genuine self-expression, we have failed to ask ourselves this important question:  

Should we take off our social masks? 

  Well, I could give you a list of academics that showed how absolute conformity limits our understanding of important social issues. I could also point to studies that show how silencing diverse opinions leads, in the long run, to a particular type of cultural discourse; one that is as shallow and sensational as it is brittle and combative. 

 But I know you are getting tired of academics at this point, so I'll do you a favor. I’ll give you a more Ethiopian perspective on why we should all take off our social masks. 

  One such perspective comes from ብላቴን ጌታ ኅሩይ ወልደ ሥላሴ, who wrote two books that are worthy of consideration: የልብ አሳብ and ሓዲስ አለም. These books, now over 90 years old, are important not just because of their age. They are also important because of the characters we find in them. 

 Whether it's the likes of ጽዮን, ሞገስ, ዓወቀ, መምሬ ተስፋ, መላከ ኃይል ተስፋዬ, ደብተራ አዳንቄ, ቄስ አቲሰ ገብረ ሚካኤል, ማርያም አለቃ or the እጨጌ, reading the actions and motivations of these characters forces you to realize some things. 

  Firstly, you begin to realize that even in the 1920s, some of our forefathers valued open, informed and thought-provoking discussions over the dogma of conventional thought. 

 Secondly, you realize that authors like ብላቴን ጌታ ኅሩይ did not only appreciate robust discussions; they also saw the value of prioritizing self-expression over social comfort. Especially in cultural discussions. 

As you can see in the following excerpt: 

“ ጉባኤውም እሳቸው የተናገሩትን በሰማ ጊዜ እስካሁን ድረስ ይህን ነገር ደፍሮ የሚናገረው ሰው ባይገኝ ነው እንጂ የስሕተት ሥራ መሆኑን የየሁላችን ልብ ያውቀዋል። አሁንም እግዚአብኤር ዓወቀን ምክንያት አድርጎ ይህን ሁሉ ለመነጋገር አበቃን።” 

ሓዲስ አለም

  Another surprising take comes from ማህተመ ሥላሴ ወ/መስቀል’s ያባቶች ቅርስ, which was a collection of old Amharic sayings that was first published in 1943. This book, along with its later editions, has since been used to bolster the more conservative/conformist elements of our culture. 

   But an observant reader, one who is not blinded by cultural nationalism, will also find something else. They will find many Amharic proverbs that promote the type of critical attitude that we are told is unacceptable in our culture. 

Don’t believe me? 

 Well, you can find a complete list of these proverbs in our Catalogue, but here is just a little taste:  

“ካዋቂ ፥ ጠያቂ” 

“ቢፈትጉት ይነጣል ፥ ቢመረምሩት ይወጣል” 

“በጠይቆ እውቀት ፥ ይገኛል ክብረት” 

“ተመመራመር ፥ ይገኛል ነገር”

  But if you are looking for more examples, I could also point to መንግሥቱ ለማ’s famous collection of poems from the 1950s, which included works like አገሩ ገቢ and ሕይወት. These poems, when read together, go a long way in describing the value of being a critically minded person. Despite the pushback that usually accompanies such pursuits: 

“ስሕተት ነው መሰለኝ ሰበቡን መሻት ፤

“ለምንድነው” ማለት “ለን ምክንያት”። 

ለምንድነው አንበል? “ለ”ን እንግደፋት?” 

መንግሥቱ ለማ in “የግጥም ጉባዔ”

  And whilst authors like ላቀው ደስታ and በዓሉ ግርማ tried to build on this idea of deep reflection and the importance of informed dissent, particularly in books like የዕድሜ መስተዋት and የህሊና ደወል, writers like ማሞ ውድነህ tried something different. They used their skills to criticize one of the most common ways we try to silence non-conformist views: overgeneralizations. 

As he put it: 

“የአንድ ሀገር ማህበራዊ ኑሮ በአንድ መልክ ፣ በአንድ ሥነ ሥርዓት ወይም በአንድ ዓላማ ሊራመድ አይችልም።” 

ማሞ ውድነህ in “የገባር ልጅ”

  But this article is not just about having unconventional thoughts. It's also about voicing them. 

 So, if we are discussing the values of taking off our social masks, what did Ethiopian authors say about people like you and me? Are we to express our deeply held yet unpopular beliefs? Or are we to keep them to ourselves?  

 Well, I hope you take the advice of ይድነቃቸው ተሰማ, አቤ ጉበኛ and ሥዩም ሠርፀ መድኅን, who, in the 1950s and 1960s, actively advocated for those contrarians amongst us to do one thing:

Speak our minds 

  Whether you are reading ሕዝብ አስተዳድር ፤ ሞራል, ምልክአም ሰይፈ ነበልባል, or ጎባጣው ትዳሬ, these famous authors, just like ብላቴን ጌታ ኅሩይ, were very much aware of our cynical attitude towards non-conformity. But they still saw the value of informed dissent and freely expressing one's thoughts. Especially if we want to address some of our major social issues: 

“የመሻሻል ዘዴ እንዲጠነክር ፤ ቆሞ ባደባባይ ሁሉ እንዲናገር ፤ ካልተፈቀደና ካልሆነም በቀር ፤ አይችልም ሊሻሻል ጎባጣው ትዳር።” 

ሥዩም ሠርፀ መድኅን in “ጎባጣው ትዳሬ”

 And it’s at this point that you begin to understand that this habit of ours, this habit of analyzing, questioning, and openly challenging mainstream beliefs, is neither new nor foreign to our cultural discourse. 

  But I do know a few things about you, my dear reader. 

  I know, for example, there are some of you that will never be convinced by these arguments. 

  I'm aware that some of you will quickly dismiss all these authors, proverbs, poems, novels and treatises for the sake of cultural dogma. 

 I know there are some of you who, despite all that is brought before you, will still insist that it's better to enforce conformity than to embrace dialogue. So I know you will keep on intimidating, shouting down and name calling those that decide to take off their social mask. 

  So, for those of you that insist that our culture has always been against criticism; for those of you that still confuse thoughtful criticism with disrespect and independent opinions with deviancy; for those of you that still believe that it's better to silence dissent than to engage with it, I’ll leave you with one final quote. 

 I’ll leave you with an old Ethiopian proverb that shows exactly what our forefathers thought about people like you: 

“እውቀት የላቸው ፥ ይብሳል ፉከራቸው”

A Word of Advice

  So, now that we’ve cleared that up, it’s time to reply to the email that started this whole discussion: 

Dear writer,

  The next time your loved ones judge you for your non-conformist ways, I hope you take the time to reflect.

 I hope you understand that their judgmental attitude and their scripted form of consensus has long been criticized by social psychologists, cultural theorists and many of the leading thinkers of our culture. 

   I hope you realize that the backlash you are getting for your curious and questioning nature is only one, albeit the loudest, side of Ethiopian culture. But our culture also has another side: a side that has long understood that the loudest voice in the room is not always the wisest one. Especially when it comes to cultural discussions. 

  I hope you appreciate the fact that your vocal, scrutinizing and independent ways are not a threat to our society. And as much as you are told that our culture only values compliance, continuity and conformity, know that this is not entirely true. 

 Know that you are in the company of iconic cultural figures who have long seen the value of people like you. 

 So the next time you are in a cultural discussion, don't be afraid to speak your mind. Take off your social mask, continue to question our deeply held cultural assumptions and, most importantly, be yourself. 

  And if you are mocked, shouted down or vilified, tell your loved ones about ብላቴን ጌታ ኅሩይ and his characters. 

 Tell them about መንግሥቱ ለማ and his poems. 

 Tell them about በዓሉ ግርማ and his “የህሊና ደወል”.

  And if they still have a problem with your questioning ways, take a deep breath and tell them about ግርማቸው ተክለ ሐዋርያት. Tell them about this celebrated cultural figure and what he thought about people like them. 

  Tell them what he thought of those that refuse to take off their social masks: 

“እንደዚህ ተመራማሪ መንፈስ ያላቸው ጥቂቶች በመሆናቸው አብዛኞቹ ሰዎች ለይምሰልና ለጥቅም ሲሉ ሲነገር ወይም ሲደረግ ያዩትን ተከትለው ያደርጋሉ ይናገራሉ። ምክንያቱን ግን ስላልመረመሩት በፍጹም አያውቁትም። እነዚህ የዝንጀሮ ዐይነቶች የኅሊናን ኃላፊነት የሰውን ነጻነት ክብሩንም አያውቁትም።” 

 አርአያ (1939)

For More on the Resources Used for This Work, Visit Gudu’s Catalogue by Clicking Here.