The intense Ethiopian sun burns down as thousands of volunteers in green shirts, school children alongside politicians, take up shovels and saplings in a publicly broadcasted spectacle to plant millions of trees in a single day. They are participating in the world’s largest state-led reforestation campaign, Ethiopia’s Green Legacy Initiative, with official figures claiming that more than 32 billion trees were planted nationwide. Initiated by Ethiopia’s Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed in 2019, the initiative has an ambitious agenda to not only reforest the country and strengthen its climate resilience, but also to reunite Ethiopians under a new common cause; this year, Ahmed launched the GLI under the theme “Renewal Through Planting”.
This motto perhaps best captures the struggle within which the GLI takes place. Ethiopia’s wounds from its Tigray War are far from healed, with the civil conflict provoking another bloody ethno-political struggle in the form of the Amhara and Oromo conflict. The country is yearning for peace and stability. This is where Ahmed’s political maneuver with the GLI comes in. The prime minister elevated the GLI to a bold mission that would restore Ethiopia’s unity and prosperity. The initiative has become an exercise in statecraft – a moral and political project that is carried out top-down and arguably legitimizes state authority in a country that remains deeply authoritarian. Although celebrated by the international community, the GLI thus starts to reveal a more complicated reality. Can Ethiopia’s Green Legacy Initiative serve as the hopeful example for bolt environmental action in the Global South we all want it to be? Or does the project in fact resemble a form of “green authoritarianism”?
Indeed, it is remarkable what the GLI has been able to achieve. Mobilizing over 20 million Ethiopians, the initiative was able to restore “more than 33.6 million hectares of land,” according to Fanose Mekonnen, Lead Executive Officer of the Ministry of Agriculture’s Natural Resources Development, Conservation and Utilization sector. The GLI improved soil fertility and positively impacted water resources and pollinator conservation. In a country where more than 70% of the population relies on a water-intensive agricultural sector, where deforestation has accelerated in recent years, and where they are most prone to droughts, these are improvements that go beyond solely environmental causes but also address Ethiopia’s economic and social challenges. The GLI has also been credited with providing green jobs. It really seems like a win-win situation.
In dire need of hopeful news, the GLI has been celebrated by environmentalists and the international community as a role-model project and recently received an award by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations for its sustainable forest management. That ties into a wider ambition of Ahmed to reshape Ethiopia’s image as a progressive environmental leader on the international stage. Hosting events, such as the recent Food Systems Summit in Addis Ababa, provides Ahmed with the opportunities to do so.
The Ethiopian leader is a unique political figure. Ahmed’s rise in Ethiopia was off to a promising start after he announced progressive reforms and received the Nobel Peace Prize for a peace agreement with Eritrea shortly after he was elected as prime minister. The recent violence and conflicts, however, cast a dark light on the country. The GLI emerged as a counter-narrative, symbolizing the country’s reconstruction as a modern Ethiopia. Yet, the country continues to violate human rights and remains deeply undemocratic. The GLI nicely provides an opportunity to showcase within foreign policy and to invite western representatives under its premise – a dream of a progressive facade.
At the same time, the initiative is receiving critiques for its ecological effectiveness. Critics point out that some of the foreign and fast-growing species entail negative environmental effects. Focusing on the sheer number of trees being planted is great to meet impressive national quotas, but it might not be the most sustainable way to carry out reforestation that should increase biodiversity. Concerns also arise around the survival rate of the planted tree population that are not necessarily best managed once they are planted.
While the GLI has engaged many, it has not necessarily given them true ownership of the project. The project is overseen by the prime minister through an ad-hoc interministerial committee. While being useful to tightly control the initiative, this misses to account for the knowledge and circumstances of local rural communities that are vital for its implementation. According to a report about the initiative: “the GLI’s claim to provide economic benefits for the country and local communities is not yet backed by its practice.” The restriction of ownership of the planted trees by farmers and local communities under the GLI impedes the possibility for communities to profit through agroforestry. At the same time, it hinders community involvement in managing and maintaining the planted trees.
When interviewed by the magazine Dialogue Earth, Ethiopian researcher Dr. Wubalem Tadesse noted, “such restoration initiatives should be organized and managed by a specific office that is accountable and works with a clear and transparent strategy.” In a country where political opponents are being suppressed and practically no independent media exists, accountability and transparency might not be there by design. Instead, the GLI arguably further centralizes power and legitimacy to the government via a new form of mass mobilization and moral nationalism through a narrative of civic virtue.
Ethiopia’s Green Legacy Initiative thus shows how nature and an environmental agenda can serve as a powerful tool to legitimize state power and symbolize unity. Ahmed’s political move with the GLI is nifty. It provides two things that every autocrat dreams of: a shiny narrative for the international community and a powerful symbol of unity and a vision of reconstruction to rally the population behind. It is important that international actors see through this facade and acquire a well-rounded image of the project.
However, carrying out the largest reforestation mission in history is perhaps the most harmless form of autocratic consolidation we have ever seen. Ethiopia has suffered from horrific civil wars and instability as well as environmental crisis. Centralization of power is not the country’s most pressing concern just yet. Rallying the country around a civic and ecological vision is far better than everything we know from other dictators to unite their citizens under a common cause. And while there are legitimate concerns about its environmental effectiveness, the GLI undoubtedly has net-positive ecological impacts.
If the GLI remains successful, it might serve as a model for other African nations to polish their image. If that plays into increasing climate resilience of a continent among the most affected by climate change, it might outweigh the political concerns. After all, green tree-planting shirts are better than green army shirts. Ethiopia’s Green Legacy Initiative reminds us that reality is ambiguous. While its trees may take root, we can only hope that they grow into more than a symbol of state control — a genuine inclusive vision of Ethiopia’s renewal.
Featured Image Source: Fana Media Corporation S.C.
