Reaching for Respectability (Part 1)

A Little Backstory

The year was 1904. 

  A young Ethiopian has just decided to move back to his country of origin. 

  Although certain of his decision to return to Ethiopia, this 22-year-old was also feeling the usual aches and pains of migration. 

  He had spent half his life in Russia, a country that was very different from his Ethiopian upbringing. Which is why his decision to return was marked by feelings of eagerness, anxious preparation and hopes of fitting in. 

   And so, moved by his wish to reconnect with his heritage, he chose to wear his traditional Ethiopian clothing. For why would you need western attire in a country with its own sense of style?  

   But this decision was quickly challenged by those relatives that awaited his return. 

  You see, they didn't appreciate his desire for cultural expression. Instead, they told him to be pragmatic. They told him to trade his ሃበሻ ልብስ for the suits that he picked up in Europe. 

   They told him that no one would take him seriously unless he looked the part. The part of the respectable and educated man.  

   And so, our young returnee traded his Ethiopian looks for the looks of the European gentleman. He wore his prized suit, a Parisian tailored ensemble, and played the part. In fact, he played the part so well that he was quickly granted an audience with the king. 

As he himself put it: 

“በማግሥቱ ወደ ግቢ ሄድኩ፤ እንደ አውሮፓውያን ለብሻለሁ። ገና ወደ በሩ ቀረብ ስል በረኛው ጮኸ። ዞር በሉ እያለ መንገዱን አስለቀቀልኝ። እንደ አገሬ ሰው ለብሼ ቢሆን መመታት አይቀርልኝም ነበር። በገዛ አገሬ ውስጥ ለመከበሪያዬ የሰው ልብስ መከታ ስለሆነኝ ልቤ ተቃጠለ።”

ፊታውራሪ ተክለ ሐዋርያት ተክለ ማርያም

A Desirable Foreignness

    Now I imagine that most of you reading ተክለ ሐዋርያት’s story will share his anger towards this kind of elitism. 

 I can also imagine our more conservative readers agreeing with the likes of ነጋድራስ ገብረ ሕይወት ባይከዳኝ, ብላቴን ጌታ ኅሩይ ወልደሥላሴ, ነጋድራስ ተሰማ እሸቴ, ግርማቸው ተክለ ሐዋርያት, አቢይ አበበ and ዳኛቸው ወርቁ. As all of them have written about the respectable western attire and its impact on our cultural identity. 

   And so, I would not fault you for judging the imperial guard from ተክለ ሐዋርያት’s story.  I understand how wrong it is to be this discriminatory and this elitist. 

  But I also know that it is easier to condemn than to reflect. So, I wonder.  

    I wonder if those of us who moralize over cultural erosion are as immune to foreign influences as we think we are. Are we that much different from this century old በረኛ? Or are we just blind to what we still consider “respectable” attire? 

 Whether it is our workplaces, our educational institutions, our social gatherings or our preferred places to socialize, we know that there are certain types of clothing that are deemed appropriate and admirable. 

 Our dress codes, whether formally enacted or heavily suggested, have convinced us that the business attire in general and the chemise, cravate and suit in particular are synonymous with respectability, decency and status. 

 And so, after 119 years, we have continued to associate the foreign with the universally respectable and the traditional with the ceremonial; the latter to be worn by some, only sometimes. 

  And it is because of how routine this thinking has become that we are oblivious to a certain type of conservatism in our country. The type that does not see the contradiction of using French words (chemise and cravate) to dictate what is respectable and then using Amharic words to judge others for the supposed crime of diluting our culture.  

   Take a look around and you will quickly pick up on this bizarre practice of preaching cultural authenticity whilst admiring certain types of western attire. Your family gatherings, your social circles and your workplaces are not immune to this. 

   But you will also see this practice in more formal institutions. Institutions that vow to protect Ethiopian culture but then subscribe to the optics of professional respectability. 

 One such institution is our culturally conservative parliament:  

“ወጣቶችን ከመጤ ባህል ለመከላከል የmentorship ሥራ፣ ከህብረተሰብ ጋር የመመካከር፣ ከአረጋውያን ጋር የማቀናጀት እና ከዩኒቨርስቲዎች ጋር እንዲሰራና የትኩረት አቅጣጫ ቢሰጠው የሚል አስተያየት ቋሚ ኮሚቴው ያስቀምጣል።”

የጤና፣ ማህበራዊ ልማት፣ ባህል እና ስፖርት ጉዳዮች ቋሚ ኮሚቴ

A Conflicted House

   Whether you are looking at their regular sessions or their ceremonial events, you will quickly start to see a contradiction in our House of Peoples’ Representatives. Especially when it comes to what our conservative parliamentarians say about Ethiopian culture and what they consider as respectable attire. 

  So, let us set aside their rhetoric of cultural pride and take a good look at what our parliamentarians wear on a day-to-day basis.  

  The men will usually pair their dark colored suits with their crisp white chemise and red cravate; each piece trying to communicate the type of authority and seriousness that is routinely associated with a seasoned parliamentarian. The women also wear a similarly refined yet equally foreign symbol of professionalism; pairing their charcoal gray, navy blue or black blazer with matching pants or a knee-length suit dress. 

   And given how routine this is, it is normal to assume that this is their only dress code. I would not be surprised if you thought parliamentarians are only allowed to wear a suit. 

But you would be wrong. 

   There is no explicit rule that equates the suit with required professional attire and our traditional clothing with the occasional celebratory costume. Instead, their ሥነ-ምግባር ደንም makes it abundantly clear that: 

“ማንኛውም አባል ሙሉ ልብስ ወይም የባህል ልብስ መልበስ ይኖርበታል።”

አንቀጽ 20(2)

  And so, it would appear that the actions of our culturally conservative parliamentarians are in direct conflict with their words. For most, if not all of them, do not associate traditional Ethiopian attire with the look befitting a serious professional. 

  Instead, they will save their cultural pride for their speeches and exclusively wear their suits and its French named accessories during their normal workday. 

Our Double Standards

 But there are times where our parliamentarians deviate from this unwritten rule. And such moments are usually ceremonial. 

 Whether its parliament’s opening ceremony, its oath taking proceedings or those festivities organized by the government, you will notice one group of parliamentarians routinely switch their image of professional respectability for their image of cultural authenticity. 

  This group, without fail, will wear their cultural attire in its entirety; leaving little room for alterations or their usual performance of professionalism. And it is in these rare moments that a select number of them temporarily become, as if by decree, our cultural custodians. 

As one female parliamentarian put it: 

“ለ(የሴቶች) ኮከስ አባላት የተላለፈን መልክት የባህል ልብስ ለብሳችሁ ሂዱ የሚል ነው። የባህል ልብስ ይናገርልን ይመስል ማለት ነው።”

የተከበሩ ዶ/ር ትዕግስት ውሂብ

  The men, on the other hand, appear to be exempt from this strict obligation of cultural representation. Instead, they will do one of two things. They will either wear their usual business attire or they will make a slight alteration to their suit and call it traditional clothing.  

 And it is because of these inconsistencies and double standards that we are forced to ask the following questions: 

 Why do our parliamentarians avoid wearing traditional Ethiopian clothing during their regular sessions? Why is there a widely accepted sentiment that the suit is more respectable than our cultural attires? And finally, why do our conservative parliamentarians not see the chemise and cravate as a sign of cultural dilution or as an example of the spreading influence of western culture? 

 Answering these questions, I admit, is difficult. But it is not impossible. And so, I propose a slightly unorthodox approach. 

 This approach looks at the rules of parliament in the social contexts in which they are developed and enforced. Where the actions of our parliamentarians are seen, not in isolation, but in connection with those norms that regulate all of our social lives. 

  And one way of finding this link between our parliament’s dressing habits and our social norms is by looking at how we interpret the words in their ሥነ ምግባር ደንብ. 

Click Here For Part 2 of “Reaching for Respectability”