April 10, 2026
Negative Solidarity, Fragmented Visions, and the Institutional Preconditions for Political Unity
Abel Achenafe
Image sourced from Pexels
This article draws on Eric Hoffer’s concept of “negative solidarity” to analyze the persistent cycle of formation and dissolution of Ethiopian diaspora coalitions. It asserts that unity based on opposition or hatred is fundamentally fragile unless it is supported by common institutional commitments.
This is not merely a problem of diaspora coordination; it reflects a deeper pattern in Ethiopian political life, where unity is repeatedly pursued through shared opposition rather than shared institutional commitments.
In recent years, Ethiopian diaspora politics has witnessed the repeated emergence and subsequent quiet disappearance of coalitions and forums established in opposition to the incumbent regime. Each new initiative is characterized by a sense of urgency, moral clarity, and the promise of cohesion against a common adversary. Yet, these coalitions invariably disband before they can evolve into coherent political entities. This situation reveals a recurrent pattern: unity forged in opposition, deferral of differences under the guise of necessity, and fragmentation unveiled precisely when coordination becomes most critical. This phenomenon is not merely a failure of organization or commitment; it indicates a deeper structural issue—coalitions founded on shared opposition can mobilize resistance, but without a common framework, they cannot sustain political order.
This ongoing cycle raises a fundamental question: what type of unity underpins these coalitions?
Hoffer’s work, True Believer, offers critical insights into this dynamic. He argues that mass movements are often held together not by shared visions of the future but rather by a common opposition to the present. This form of cohesion—termed negative solidarity—proves potent for mobilization yet fragile in its construction. It unites individuals through grievance, resentment, and the moral clarity of resistance, but fails to provide a framework for governance.
This understanding is especially pertinent in the Ethiopian context, where many diaspora coalitions coalesce around a singular proposition: the regime must be removed. However, within this shared negation lie profoundly divergent perspectives on what should follow. Some advocate secession and the reconfiguration of sovereignty along ethnic lines, while others support ethnic federalism as a necessary framework for managing diversity. Still, others propose civic or territorial federalism that transcends ethnic considerations altogether.
These are not mere variations within a unified project; they represent competing constitutional futures.
The assumption that such differences can be postponed—”to be resolved after the regime falls”—is not merely optimistic; it is fundamentally flawed. It misinterprets the nature of political conflict. Disputes regarding the ultimate configuration of the polity are not secondary issues to be deferred; they are foundational questions that shape trust, coordination, and strategy in the present.
Hoffer’s caution is clear: movements founded on negative solidarity can maintain unity only as long as the focus remains on the adversary. Once the prospect of victory emerges, internal contradictions become pronounced. The very forces that enabled mobilization—shared grievance and emotional alignment—prove inadequate for institutional design. The movement, proficient in opposition, finds itself ill-equipped for constructive governance.
This dynamic elucidates the stagnation evident in diaspora politics. Much of the activity remains at the level of denunciation: conferences, online forums, and media engagements that reiterate opposition without fostering coordination. The lack of substantive political work is not incidental; it reflects an underlying incapacity to reconcile divergent visions of the end state within a shared framework.
Consequently, these coalitions attempt to function as governing alliances while remaining psychologically anchored in resistance movements.
The implications are predictable. In the absence of agreement on the rules of the political game, actors default to suspicion. Cooperation becomes strategically perilous, as each group fears that interim arrangements may advantage its rivals in the eventual settlement. In such an environment, even mutually beneficial cooperation is eschewed. What emerges is not merely stagnation but the perpetuation of the very dynamics that have long characterized Ethiopian politics: fragmentation, distrust, and zero-sum calculations.
In such contexts, political interaction resembles a zero-sum, or even negative-sum, game, in which actors prefer mutual stagnation to asymmetric advantage. Cooperation becomes irrational not because gains are impossible, but because they are not trusted to be durable.
This dynamic does not merely produce stalemate; it traps political actors in a negative-sum equilibrium, where preventing an adversary’s gain becomes more rational than pursuing mutual benefit.
This situation reflects a more profound structural problem identified in transition theory. As Guillermo O’Donnell and Philippe C. Schmitter assert, successful political transitions necessitate “contingent consent”—a willingness among competing actors to accept rules whose outcomes are uncertain but bounded. In the absence of such consent, political competition devolves into mutual veto and strategic obstruction.
For these coalitions to succeed, a fundamental shift is required—not merely in rhetoric but in structure.
First, unity must be redefined. Rather than seeking agreement on the ultimate form of the Ethiopian state, coalitions must prioritize consensus on procedures. The central question should not be “What should Ethiopia become?” but “How will Ethiopians decide what Ethiopia becomes?” This distinction is not merely semantic; it is institutional. It enables actors with incompatible visions to cooperate within a shared decision-making framework rather than compelling premature consensus on substantive outcomes.
When the nation itself is invoked only as a rallying symbol rather than a shared political project, unity becomes not a foundation for order but a substitute for political design.
Second, political competition must be rendered survivable. When defeat entails exclusion, insecurity, or collective vulnerability, actors will rationally resist any arrangement that exposes them to such risks.
Under such conditions, political competition becomes existential rather than procedural. What is at stake is not merely power but elite survivability—and actors will rationally resist any arrangement that exposes them to irreversible loss.
A credible commitment to non-exclusion, legal protection, and equitable participation is, therefore, not merely a moral aspiration; it is a structural necessity. This aligns with insights from institutional economics, which emphasize that incentives rather than intentions drive behavior.
Third, coalitions must confront, rather than obscure, their internal contradictions. A coalition cannot function effectively if it is united solely in opposition to the regime while divided over whether the political community itself should persist. When one group’s ultimate objective is separation while others seek to preserve a shared state, the coalition is beset by a latent strategic fracture. The issue is not the existence of divergent aspirations but the absence of agreement on the rules governing how such aspirations will be pursued and resolved. Without a prior commitment to a common procedural framework, cooperation becomes tenuous, and the prospect of victory risks transforming partners into immediate adversaries.
Fourth, pre-commitment must precede transition. Coalitions cannot defer institutional design to a post-regime moment. They must establish, in advance, the principles and processes that will govern the transition: how decisions will be made, how disagreements will be managed, and how power will be constrained. Without such pre-commitments, the fall of a regime does not resolve conflict; it merely relocates and intensifies it.
Finally, diaspora politics must evolve from mere performance to substantive organization. Protest and condemnation have symbolic value, but they do not substitute for genuine political work. Developing a viable alternative necessitates disciplined coordination, institutional imagination, and a willingness to confront internal disagreements directly rather than postponing them indefinitely.
The lesson from Hoffer is not that movements based on negative solidarity are doomed; rather, they are inherently incomplete. They can ignite opposition, but they cannot sustain order. They can mobilize energy, but they cannot design institutions.
Ethiopia’s challenge, therefore, lies not only in overcoming a regime but also in transcending a political logic—one in which shared hostility, rather than shared rules, defines unity.
Until such a transformation occurs, the cycle will persist: coalitions will form in moments of crisis, unity will be proclaimed in the language of resistance, differences will be deferred in the name of urgency, and fragmentation will ensue at the threshold of possibility.
The issue is not a lack of commitment or awareness, but the persistence of a dangerous illusion—that a coalition built against something can, by that fact alone, construct something.
It cannot.
A coalition that fails to determine how it will govern before seeking to achieve victory will not inherit a state; it will inherit conflict. And a movement that postpones its internal contradictions in the name of unity will ultimately be undone by them at the moment it approaches success.
Thus, the question is no longer whether Ethiopians can unite against a common adversary. That has been demonstrated repeatedly.
The real question is whether they are willing to undertake the far more challenging work: to design a political order in which their deepest disagreements can coexist without violence, their rival visions can compete without annihilation, and their unity is anchored not in shared resentment but in shared rules.
This distinction marks the difference between a movement that resists and a polity that endures.
On Intent and Responsibility
This article is not written to dismiss or belittle the efforts of diaspora political elites; their persistence in organizing, advocating, and challenging authoritarian rule is both necessary and commendable. However, good intentions and moral urgency are not substitutes for political effectiveness. The recurring pattern of forming coalitions that proclaim unity while deferring fundamental disagreements has yielded more symbolism than substance.
What is often presented as strategic patience is, in practice, a deferral of institutional design under conditions where delay deepens mistrust. Unity declared without agreed rules and cooperation pursued without confronting incompatible end-state visions produces not strength but fragility. If these efforts are to move beyond performative opposition, they must reckon honestly with their internal contradictions, establish clear institutional commitments, and accept that political maturity requires resolving—not postponing—the very differences that will ultimately determine whether they can govern.
References
- Hoffer, E. (1951). The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements. Harper & Row.
- O’Donnell, G., & Schmitter, P. C. (1986). Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Tentative Conclusions about Uncertain Democracies. Johns Hopkins University Press.
Editor’s Note : Views in the article do not necessarily reflect the views of borkena.com
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