By Debessai Tsegai
Introduction
When a house is on fire, its owner does not usually step outside to lecture the neighbors about their gardens. Yet that is precisely the spectacle now unfolding in the Horn of Africa. At a time when Ethiopia faces mounting crises, educational collapse, economic paralysis, and deep social fragmentation, its leader has chosen to direct his attention outward, attempting to belittle Eritrea’s education system. The irony is striking. Instead of confronting the severe failures within his own country, he points accusingly across the border, hoping rhetoric might obscure reality.
Such statements are not merely careless; they are revealing. They expose a leadership more concerned with political theater than with addressing the profound challenges facing its own society. The attempt to mock Eritrea’s institutions of higher learning, while Ethiopia’s own education system struggles with catastrophic examination results, widespread corruption, and declining academic standards, is less a critique than a diversion. It is a familiar political tactic: when the failures at home become too visible to ignore, redirect the public’s attention elsewhere. But facts have a stubborn way of resisting propaganda, and the contrast between the two educational systems tells a story far different from the one Ethiopia’s leadership wishes to project.
Deflection and Decline: Ethiopia’s Education System in Crisis
In recent days, Abiy Ahmed has taken to belittling Eritrea’s education system and repeating the tired claim that the country lacks meaningful institutions of higher learning. The spectacle would be comical were it not so revealing. At a moment when Ethiopia is engulfed by deep political instability, economic strain, and social fragmentation, its leader has chosen to lecture his neighbor rather than confront the crisis unfolding within his own borders. The irony is unmistakable: a government presiding over systemic dysfunction pointing fingers abroad in the hope that noise might drown out reality.
This is not serious criticism; it is diversion. When the record at home becomes too uncomfortable to defend, propaganda becomes the substitute for policy. Instead of addressing the failures hollowing out Ethiopia’s institutions, the leadership attempts to manufacture a narrative about Eritrea. But facts are stubborn.
Before presuming to comment on Eritrea’s education system, Ethiopia’s leadership would do well to confront the crisis unfolding within its own classrooms. In recent years, Ethiopia’s national secondary school examinations have revealed a system in deep distress. In 2022, only 3.3% of the 896,500 students who sat for the Grade 12 Ethiopian Secondary School Leaving Certificate Examination (ESSLCE) passed. The situation deteriorated further in 2023, when just 3.2% of 845,000 candidates achieved a passing mark.
Subsequent years brought only modest improvement, but the overall picture remains alarming. The pass rate rose to 5.4% in 2024, and in 2025 it increased to 8.4%, with 48,929 out of 581,905 students reaching the 50 percent threshold required for university admission. Despite this incremental rise, the results still reflect a profound systemic failure. The scale of the crisis is stark: 1,249 schools across Ethiopia failed to produce a single student eligible for university entry, a statistic that underscores the depth of the educational breakdown and the long-standing structural weaknesses within the country’s schooling system.
Numbers on this scale do not signal a temporary setback; they expose a system in distress. And until Ethiopia confronts that reality, attempts to mock Eritrea’s institutions will sound less like criticism and more like the desperate rhetoric of a leadership struggling to escape the consequences of its own failures.
The Collapse of Academic Integrity in Ethiopia.
In Ethiopia, as in many other sectors, corruption has reached staggering levels, and the education system has not been spared. Academic dishonesty has become widespread and normalized. For years, the integrity of national examinations has been undermined by systemic cheating practices that operate at multiple levels. Examination papers are frequently leaked ahead of time and sold to the highest bidder. In some cases, schools themselves prepare full solution guides and distribute them to students during the tests. Officials entrusted with safeguarding the examination process have also been implicated in leaking papers in exchange for money.
Such practices have eroded the credibility of the entire system in Ethiopia. When examinations become commodities and success can be purchased rather than earned, the result is not merely academic fraud but a deep institutional failure that corrodes public trust and devalues education itself.
When anti-cheating reforms were introduced to restore credibility to the examination system, the scale of the underlying problem became even more visible: 43% of Ethiopian secondary schools recorded not a single student passing the national exam. These outcomes are not minor statistical fluctuations; they represent one of the most severe systemic failures of a national education system in recent memory. Far from being a position from which to lecture others, Ethiopia’s exam results expose a profound institutional breakdown, an academic collapse that reflects years of neglect, mismanagement, and policy failure under the current leadership.
Cheating is not limited at the high school system. Ethiopia’s Prime Minister himself is accused of plagiarism in his Ph.d. Thesis. An analysis published by the World Peace Foundation (Plagiarism in Abiy Ahmed’s PhD Thesis: How will Addis Ababa University handle this?) alleges that Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed submitted a doctoral dissertation at Addis Ababa University containing extensive plagiarism. According to the report, Chapter 2 of the thesis registered a 62% similarity score on the plagiarism-detection platform Turnitin—a figure far above the thresholds typically considered acceptable in academic research. The analysis further claims that copied material appears across the entire chapter, spanning all 41 pages, with passages allegedly drawn directly from multiple scholarly works without proper attribution.
The report contends that the duplication ranges from individual paragraphs to entire pages reproduced verbatim. It suggests that several scholars whose writings appear in the text would likely recognize their work as having been copied. If accurate, such findings raise serious questions about academic integrity and institutional oversight, particularly regarding how a dissertation containing such extensive unattributed material could pass through the review process and ultimately be approved at Addis Ababa University.
In most universities, acceptable similarity scores for a doctoral thesis are significantly lower. Typically, 10–15% similarity is regarded as strong and well within acceptable limits, reflecting normal citations and shared technical terminology. Scores in the 15–20% range are generally tolerated, provided the matches consist of properly cited material rather than unattributed copying. Even 25% similarity usually triggers closer scrutiny and may require formal review. A similarity score as high as 62%, by contrast, would normally be considered an extreme outlier, raising immediate concerns about the originality of the work and the adequacy of the academic review process.
The Myth of Eritrea’s ‘Missing Universities’
In a recent round of propaganda, Abiy Ahmed displayed a striking—and willful—misrepresentation of Eritrea’s higher education system by claiming that the country once had only one university and that it is now closed. The claim is simply untrue and ignores the historical circumstances that shaped Eritrea’s educational institutions.
At the time of independence in 1991, Eritrea inherited a severely depleted higher-education system. University of Asmara—originally established in 1958 by Italian missionaries—had been systematically weakened during the final years of the war. As the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front tightened its military pressure around Asmara in the late 1980s, the ruling Derg dismantled significant portions of the university, transferring equipment, library collections, and staff to locations inside Ethiopia, including Agarfa in southern Ethiopia. By the time the Derg regime collapsed in 1991, much of the university’s academic infrastructure had been removed, leaving the institution largely hollowed out.
After independence, Eritrea rehabilitated and reopened the University of Asmara. However, its capacity was limited—admitting roughly 1,200 students per year—far below the level needed to meet the country’s expanding demand for tertiary education. Recognizing this structural limitation, the government undertook a major reform in 2004, decentralizing higher education and expanding it across the country through a network of specialized institutions rather than concentrating all programs in a single university.
These institutions include:
- Eritrean Institute of Technology (Mai Nefhi), comprising
- College of Engineering and Technology,
- College of Science, and
- College of Education;
- Adi Keyih College of Arts and Social Sciences;
- Halhale College of Business and Economics;
- Orotta School of Medicine and Dentistry;
- Asmara College of Health Sciences;
- Hamelmalo Agricultural College; and
- Massawa College of Marine Sciences and Technology.
As a result, seven major institutes of higher learning were established across different regions of the country. By 2015, these institutions had significantly expanded Eritrea’s tertiary education capacity, offering three medical specialization (MD) programs, nine master’s degree programs, fifty-three undergraduate BA/BSc programs, and forty-three diploma programs. Enrollment grew dramatically—from roughly 1,200 students per year under the former single-university structure to more than 14,000 students annually across the decentralized system.
Over time, additional adjustments and consolidations have taken place as Eritrea continues to align its higher-education system with national development priorities. Although many of these institutions carry the title “college” rather than “university,” they collectively constitute the country’s tertiary education system, providing specialized training in engineering, science, medicine, agriculture, economics, education, and maritime technology.
In other words, Eritrea’s approach has not been the absence of higher education, but the deliberate creation of a distributed, specialized network of colleges designed to meet the country’s practical development needs. The system continues to evolve as Eritrea expands its educational infrastructure from primary schooling through advanced professional training, ensuring that its human capital grows in step with national priorities.
The distinction between college and university is largely a matter of naming convention rather than academic capacity. Ethiopia itself provides a historical example. What is now Addis Ababa University began as the University College of Addis Ababa, founded in 1950. In 1961 it was renamed Haile Selassie I University after incorporating several existing colleges, and in 1975 it adopted its current name. The evolution illustrates that institutional titles change over time and do not necessarily determine the substance of academic activity.
International practice reinforces the point. Several prominent doctoral-granting institutions in the United States continue to carry the title “college” despite operating as full research universities. Examples include Dartmouth College, Boston College, and College of William & Mary—all of which offer extensive Ph.D. programs while retaining their historic names. Similarly with Teachers College, Columbia University grant doctoral degrees even though “college” remains part of their official title.
In fact, some of the world’s most prestigious research institutions use neither “college” nor “university” in their names at all. Institutions such as Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), California Institute of Technology (CalTech), Georgia Institute of Technology, Imperial College London, and London School of Economics and Political Science demonstrate that academic stature and institutional naming conventions are not synonymous.
In short, the claim that Eritrea lacks higher education because its institutions are called “colleges” reflects a superficial reading of how academic systems function. Across the world, institutional names often reflect history, tradition, or administrative structure rather than the depth or legitimacy of the education they provide.
A Tale of Two Education Systems
To even begin to understand the audacity of Abiy’s claims, one must look at the educational landscape of both nations in detail. While Ethiopia suffers from systemic failures in schooling, Eritrea has quietly been cultivating a robust, high achieving education system. Eritrea boasts a literacy rate among the highest in Africa a remarkable feat given the country’s history of war, colonization, and economic blockades. From the primary school level to higher education, Eritrea has built a structure that emphasizes access, quality, and practical application. Its higher education and technical colleges are increasingly producing skilled professionals capable of driving national development, a stark contrast to Ethiopia, where tens of thousands of students leave secondary school unprepared to contribute meaningfully to society.
The commitment to education in Eritrea is not merely rhetorical. The government has consistently invested in training teachers, building schools even in remote regions, and ensuring that curricula are both rigorous and relevant. This strategy has borne fruit: Eritrean students consistently perform well in regional and international assessments, and the country has cultivated a culture that values knowledge and discipline. While resources remain limited due to external blockades and sanctions, the national focus on education has allowed Eritrea to punch far above its weight. By contrast, Ethiopia, despite being significantly larger and wealthier, struggles with overcrowded classrooms, poorly trained teachers, and an education system plagued by political interference.
Consider the contrast: in Eritrea, primary education is universally accessible, and secondary education continues to expand, while in Ethiopia, millions of children are out of school, particularly in conflict affected regions. Thousands of Ethiopian schools lie in ruins as a result of neglect, political instability, and ongoing ethnic conflicts. Facilities are often overcrowded, under resourced, or unsafe, creating a cycle where the poorest and most vulnerable children are systematically denied opportunities to learn. In such a context, for the Ethiopian leader to publicly mock Eritrea’s higher education is not only arrogance, it is deeply irresponsible. It signals a leader more interested in deflecting blame than confronting the monumental failures of his own administration.
Furthermore, Ethiopia’s higher education system is currently in crisis. Universities that once served as engines of intellectual and economic development have been reduced to arenas of political struggle. Strikes, protests, and administrative paralysis have become routine, and the quality of graduates has declined significantly. In contrast, Eritrean higher education maintain a disciplined environment, emphasizing both academic excellence and practical skills. Engineering, medicine, agriculture, and teacher training programs in Eritrea are increasingly aligned with national development needs. Graduates leave with the knowledge and competence required to serve the country, not merely to secure overseas employment. This is the kind of forward thinking approach that Ethiopia’s leadership has repeatedly failed to emulate.
Eritrea’s achievements in education are even more impressive when considering the broader context of nation building. The country has survived decades of colonization, prolonged wars of liberation, and external pressures from regional powers, yet it has remained focused on creating institutions that are self reliant and resilient. By contrast, Ethiopia’s current leadership has shown an obsession with symbolic projects and foreign funded industrial parks, all while failing to secure the basic educational and social needs of its citizens. The contrast is stark: one country invests in the human mind as a long term strategy for progress, while the other squanders resources and attention on superficial narratives of advancement.
As of 2025, Ethiopia has approximately 50 public higher-education institutions, including universities and specialized colleges. With an estimated population of about 130 million, this translates to roughly one public higher-education institution for every 2.7 million people. Eritrea, by comparison, operates a smaller but more population-proportionate system. With an estimated population of around 4 million, the country’s network of 9 public tertiary institutions corresponds to approximately one public higher-education institution for every 450,000 residents.
Ethiopia in Crisis, Abiy Ahmed in Denial
The Ethiopian leader’s attacks on Eritrean education also come against a backdrop of his own nation’s economic collapse. Factories in Ethiopia are virtually paralyzed due to a severe shortage of foreign currency, inconsistent electricity supply, and ongoing political instability. Many industries operate far below their capacity, while foreign funded ventures are closing down and fleeing the country due to unreliable security and systemic corruption. Meanwhile, Eritrea has been steadily nurturing human capital through education, ensuring that its labor force is skilled and capable, able to contribute to a self reliant economy even under challenging conditions. This divergence is not coincidental; it is the direct outcome of responsible, long-term governance versus shortsighted, politically motivated leadership.
Moreover, Ethiopia’s current situation highlights the consequences of leadership obsessed with power and clinging to imperial dreams of the past. While Eritrea has focused on self reliance, stability, and practical nation building, Ethiopia is consumed by ethnic politics, propaganda, and corruption. Millions of its citizens live in fear, deprived of basic security, access to education, and economic opportunity. The rhetoric of progress talking about industrial parks, technological hubs, or grand infrastructure projects is a façade that masks a deeper systemic failure. In this context, any attempt to point fingers at Eritrea is a transparent attempt to distract the public from a leadership vacuum that has left Ethiopia teetering on the edge of collapse.
It is also worth examining the societal impact of these divergent educational approaches. In Eritrea, education serves as a unifying force, reinforcing national identity, civic responsibility, and a culture of accountability. Students are encouraged to think critically, to engage with their communities, and to contribute meaningfully to development. Ethiopia, in contrast, has seen the politicization of education, where schools and universities are battlegrounds for ethnic and political factions. The result is a generation that is both academically underprepared and socially fragmented a fertile ground for ongoing conflict and instability.
The Ethiopian leader’s public statements, therefore, reveal not just ignorance but strategic misdirection. By mocking Eritrean education, he seeks to elevate his own image while deflecting attention from a country in crisis. Yet the reality is undeniable: Eritrea has built a self reliant education system that has weathered external pressures, wars, and sanctions. Ethiopia, by contrast, has allowed its education system to crumble under poor governance, internal conflict, and short term political calculations. The contrast is both sharp and instructive, highlighting the consequences of leadership choices on national development.
It is instructive to recall the proverb: “The thief calls the owner a thief to get ahead of the blame.” The Ethiopian leader’s attempt to point his finger toward Eritrea is a textbook example of this phenomenon. Instead of acknowledging the failure of his own policies policies that have left millions of children without education, plunged industries into dysfunction, and fueled political instability, he chooses to denigrate a neighboring country that has demonstrably succeeded in building the foundations for long term prosperity. History will judge this behavior harshly.
Investing in People vs. Governing by Propaganda
Beyond education, Eritrea’s successes extend to social stability and civic cohesion. While Ethiopia grapples with civil strife, famine, and political fragmentation, Eritrea has managed to maintain social order and national unity. The link between education and societal stability cannot be overstated: a well educated population is more likely to engage constructively in civic life, resist divisive narratives, and contribute to sustainable development. Eritrea’s investment in education, therefore, is not merely an academic concern; it is a strategic tool for nation building, peace, and resilience. Ethiopia’s neglect, by contrast, has amplified existing fissures, leaving the country vulnerable to internal collapse.
The Ethiopian leader’s disdain for Eritrea’s achievements also ignores the reality of international support and sanctions. Eritrea has faced years of external isolation and hostility from neighboring powers and global actors, yet it has persisted in building its institutions independently. The country’s higher education, technical institutes, and literacy programs have not relied on foreign aid or conditional loans but on national commitment, resourcefulness, and disciplined governance. Ethiopia, conversely, has become dependent on external funding, loans, and foreign investment, often at the expense of national sovereignty and strategic self reliance. This contrast underscores the profound difference between Eritrea’s long term vision and Ethiopia’s short term opportunism.
In conclusion, the Ethiopian leader’s remarks on Eritrean education are not only baseless but reveal a broader pattern of denial and misdirection. While Eritrea continues to cultivate knowledge, skills, and civic responsibility among its citizens, Ethiopia struggles with collapsing education, paralyzed industry, and social fragmentation. The comparison is clear: one nation invests in its people as the ultimate resource, while the other squanders opportunities in the pursuit of image, propaganda, and political expedience.
Instead of engaging in propaganda games, the Ethiopian leader would better serve his country by addressing the urgent crises within its borders rebuilding schools, restoring universities, securing livelihoods, and fostering social cohesion. Words, boasts, and mockery will not revive a broken education system or bring stability to a fractured nation. Eritrea’s example serves as a lesson: progress is born of discipline, commitment, and visionary governance not rhetoric or empty gestures. History will remember the choices made today, and the disdainful words spoken will only remain as sources of future shame for those who uttered them.
Eritrea’s educational achievements are not incidental; they are the result of a deliberate, decades long commitment to human capital development. They represent a roadmap for any nation seeking stability, prosperity, and self reliance. Ethiopia’s leadership would do well to learn from this model, rather than deflecting its own failures through ridicule. The truth is in the outcomes: a literate, skilled, and disciplined population in Eritrea versus an educational and economic collapse in Ethiopia. The contrast is undeniable, and it speaks volumes about the nature of leadership, priorities, and accountability in the Horn of Africa today.
Conclusion
In the end, the debate over education between Eritrea and Ethiopia is not merely about universities, colleges, or statistics. It is about leadership, priorities, and the long-term vision a nation chooses for its people. Eritrea, despite decades of war, sanctions, and limited resources, has remained committed to cultivating human capital—investing in literacy, technical training, and disciplined higher education aligned with national development. Ethiopia, by contrast, now faces an education system shaken by systemic corruption, collapsing exam results, and institutions weakened by political instability.
The contrast could not be clearer. One nation has treated education as the foundation of sovereignty and self-reliance; the other has allowed it to become collateral damage in a broader crisis of governance. No amount of rhetoric can reverse that reality. The true measure of a country’s commitment to learning is not found in speeches or accusations but in the competence, discipline, and opportunity afforded to its students.
If Ethiopia’s leadership truly seeks progress, the path forward is not through ridicule of its neighbor but through honest introspection and reform at home. Eritrea’s experience demonstrates that even a small nation under immense pressure can build resilient institutions when guided by clear priorities and long-term vision. History, as it always does, will judge nations not by the insults they hurl across borders but by the strength of the institutions they leave behind for future generations.
Recent Graduation Photos from Eritrea’s Colleges
Abiy Ahmed Plagiarist in-Cheif:
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