May 5, 2026
Wondmagegn Ejigu Kebede
Enköping, Sweden
It is difficult to regard Abiy Ahmed and his Prosperity Party as serious political figures or a credible political movement. His public persona, along with the messaging of his “prosperity” agenda, feels closer to a spiritual or wishful-thinking spectacle than to a substantive political platform grounded in evidence and ideological depth.
The rise of Abyi has been made possible by two entrenched features of Ethiopian politics: the cadre-based mentality of the former EPRDF, and the pervasive practice of political “personification.” Personification—the rhetorical strategy of reducing complex systems, such as a nation or an ideology, into a single, relatable character or person. It simplifies intricate policies for public consumption. It fosters emotional identification and can legitimize an individual by portraying them as a benevolent guardian, just as easily as it can be used to demonize opponents.
Personification is woven into the DNA of Ethiopian political culture. Consider Meles Zenawi, who was treated as the alpha and omega within the TPLF circle. Berhanu Nega was once hailed as the singular leader of freedom, Lidetu Ayalew was celebrated as a freedom fighter, and Eskinder Nega was elevated to an almost angelic, untouchable status. Jawar Mohammed, too, was once portrayed as an all-knowing political scientist who could single-handedly deliver liberation. The list goes on, but these examples suffice to illustrate how personification operates as a powerful and recurring force in Ethiopian politics.
My point is this: the combination of personification as a political norm and the legacy of EPRDF’s cadre-oriented structure has left the door wide open for a figure like Abiy—with his cult-like appeal—to walk straight into the palace at 4 Kilo.
What is a Cult?
A cult, in sociological terms, is a group or movement exhibiting excessive devotion to a charismatic leader, employing manipulative persuasion often coercive or control, and isolating members from critical outside information. It creates an us-versus-them mentality, demands absolute loyalty, and often requires the rejection of objective reality in favor of the group’s dogma.
Abiy’s prosperity political party operates precisely as a cult. Its cultish nature stems from its foundational myths promised, exclusive prosperity and its leader’s charismatic authority, which frames success as a spiritual destiny rather than a political outcome. By systematically denying verifiable crises like economic collapse or war, the party enforces a collective delusion. This denial is not mere ignorance; it is a core control mechanism. Followers are taught that acknowledging suffering is a failure of faith or loyalty, effectively isolating them from the empathy and critical thought needed for genuine political engagement.
Thus, “prosperity” functions as a cult because it replaces political ideology with theological fervor. Politics is inherently about negotiating conflicting realities and interests. A cult, however, demands the abolition of external reality. By spiritualizing governance and branding dissent as spiritual weakness, the party evades accountability. It offers not policies but a salvational narrative, where the leader is a prophet and prosperity is a sign of divine favor. This transforms citizens into devotees and critical debate into heresy, hollowing out
democracy’s substance while performing its rituals. The ultimate goal is not societal welfare but the perpetuation of the group’s own power and dogma, irrespective of the tangible suffering it denies.
Abiy the bad cult leader
Abyi, the mastermind of a prosperity cult that substitutes political ideology with theological fervor, serves as a stark example of this pattern in a failing national context. His profile aligns precisely with the established traits: his rhetoric is laden with claims of being the “elect of God, anointed by Jesus,” fulfilling the need for special status. This is underpinned by extreme narcissism and a grandiose self-image visible in his public declarations.
However, Abyi deviates from the archetype in a critical and dangerous way: he is a bad cult leader. His impulsivity, intuitive cruelty, and compulsive need to crash, kill, and vanish enemies reveal a lack of strategic cunning, placing him outside the smart row of manipulative leaders. This recklessness is compounded by a palpable lack of formal education and real-world experience, which undermines his credibility and exposes the hollow core of his claimed authority.
The true peril of this scenario lies in the symbiotic relationship between the bad leader and his followers. Abyi maintains control not through sophisticated ideology but through a carrot of authority and money bestowed upon a core cadre. For these followers, Abyi is not a spiritual guide but a transactional necessity, the thin line between their privilege and destitution. Without him, they revert to being illegal criminal gangs. Consequently, these enablers are often more dangerous to the nation than the leader himself; they are invested in perpetuating the cult’s power to protect their illicit benefits, long after its ideological or practical expiration date.
The way out
In the final analysis, it is clear that a destructive cult leader like Aaby, who has risen to lead a nation, must be removed from power. Yet his followers—whose privileges and benefits are deeply tied to his survival—will not easily relinquish their grip. Without the theological façade of the Prosperity Party, they would be exposed as little more than criminal enablers, which makes them, in many ways, more dangerous than the leader himself.
The deeper malaise, however, lies within the society itself. For generations, the political DNA of this nation has been one of personification placing faith in individuals rather than institutions. This has allowed a figure like Aaby to replace political ideology with a cult-like theological fiasco. The public, mentally conditioned by this legacy, clings to the passive hope that a “freedom fighter” will one day arrive to deliver them.
Yet such waiting is a form of surrender. Even opposition elites often rush to fill this imagined “savior” role, rather than engaging in the hard, collective work of politics: mobilizing, building movements, and strengthening democratic institutions. We are thus trapped in a triad of dysfunction: a dangerous cult leader sustained by his protectors, a political culture addicted to personification, and a suffering society caught in a cycle of hope and paralysis.
Who will break this deadlock? That remains the million-dollar question—one that demands not a solitary hero, but a collective awakening.
Editor’s Note : Views in the article do not necessarily reflect the views of borkena.com
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