The Icarus Paradox: Why the Strengths of the Eritrean Revolution Became the Shackles of the State

13/08/2026 01:22 AM

THE ICARUS PARADOX:
Why the Strengths of the Eritrean Revolution Became the Shackles of the State

by Dr Gebre Gebremariam

Introduction

In May 1991, when the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) marched into the highland capital of Asmara, the atmosphere was one of secular sanctity. The world witnessed what many historians and political scientists deemed a political miracle: after a grueling thirty-year war against Ethiopia - then home to one of Africa’s largest and best-equipped standing armies - a ragtag but meticulously organized rebel force had achieved a total military victory without significant Cold War patronage. This was not merely a change in administration; it was the birth of a nation forged in the “caves of Nakfa,” where the EPLF had built subterranean hospitals, factories, and schools. At the time, Eritrea was hailed by Western observers and fellow African leaders as a “beacon of hope” and a cornerstone of the “African Renaissance,” a term popularized in the 1990s to describe a new generation of disciplined, reformist leaders (Connell 2003).

However, the trajectory of the Eritrean state in the three decades following the 1993 referendum has been a descent into what many international human rights organizations now describe as the “North Korea of Africa.” The initial promise of a constitutional democracy has been replaced by a reality of indefinite national service, the total absence of free press, a shuttered national assembly, and a massive, hemorrhaging exodus of the country’s youth. The fundamental question haunting the Eritrean landscape is how a movement that demonstrated such profound agency, intellectual rigor, and self-sacrifice could produce a state that functions as a closed-circuit autocracy.

The tragedy of Eritrea is most effectively explained through the lens of the “Icarus Paradox.” Coined by the management strategist Danny Miller (1990), the paradox refers to entities - typically businesses but increasingly applied to states - that fail precisely because of the very strengths and practices that initially made them successful. These successes often lead to overconfidence, over-specialization, and rigidity, causing a "virtuous circle" of achievement to transform into a "vicious circle" of failure when the environment changes but the entity remains locked into its previous, now-maladaptive behaviors. In this context, the "wings" that allowed the entity to soar eventually cause its downfall when applied in excess or in the wrong conditions.

In the Greek myth, Icarus’s wings allowed him to fly, but the same wings led to his doom when he failed to recognize that the environment had changed as he approached the sun. For Eritrea, the “waxen wings” were the EPLF’s core virtues: hyper-militarization, absolute centralization of command, and a culture of extreme, defiant self-reliance. While these attributes were essential for surviving a genocidal war against a much larger neighbor, the leadership’s refusal to “de-militarize” these strategies after 1991 led to the melting of the state’s foundations. The “Original Sin” of the Eritrean state lies in the attempt to govern a complex, peacetime society using the rigid, secretive, and command-heavy logic of a guerrilla front (Miller 1990; Kibreab 2009).

The “Original Sin”: The Birth of Monolithic Groupthink

To understand the failure of state construction in Eritrea, one must look beyond the 1991 victory and examine the “Original Sin” of the liberation era: the violent and systematic homogenization of the Eritrean political identity. During the 1960s and early 1970s, the Eritrean liberation landscape was inherently pluralistic, reflecting the country’s diverse ethnic, religious, and linguistic tapestry. The Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF), the “mother” movement, was a broad coalition. However, the birth of the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) as a breakaway faction in 1970 signaled a radical departure from this “big tent” approach. The EPLF did not merely seek to fight Ethiopia; it sought to perfect the Eritrean revolution through ideological purity, rigid discipline, and the marginalization of groups and individuals it regarded as adversaries (Pool 2001).

The ensuing civil wars between the ELF and the EPLF (1972–1974 and 1980–1981) were the primary crucibles in which the modern Eritrean state was forged. These were not merely tactical disputes over guerrilla theaters; they were existential battles for the soul of the nation. When the EPLF finally succeeded in driving the ELF out of Eritrean territory and into Sudan in 1981, it achieved a military monopoly that effectively ended political pluralism a decade before independence was even won. This victory solidified a dangerous precedent: that national survival required the absolute “oneness” of the people, the party, and the leadership (Kibreab 2009).

This “Original Sin” was further compounded by the EPLF’s internal culture of vanguardism. Within the Front, a secretive “inner circle” - the Eritrean People's Revolutionary Party (EPRP) - operated as a shadow leadership, ensuring that the broader movement adhered to a strict, centralist line. Internal dissent was dealt with through “rectification” campaigns or, in the case of the Menkae movement in the early 1970s, through the execution of young intellectuals who dared to question the lack of democratic accountability within the Front (Hepner 2009). These purges sent a clear message that survived into the post-independence era: the “Front” was an infallible organism, and any attempt to introduce checks and balances was a “traitorous” act that threatened the very survival of the revolution.

By the time the EPLF marched into Asmara in 1991, they did not arrive as a political party prepared to compete in a marketplace of ideas; they arrived as the sole embodiment of the Eritrean people. This success convinced the leadership that their “monolithic groupthink” was the only viable strategy for statehood. In this worldview, the concepts of “civil society” or “opposition parties” were not seen as components of a healthy democracy, but as existential threats. The state thus became a direct extension of the military front’s internal security apparatus. The EPLF (rebranded as the PFDJ) viewed the population not as citizens with rights, but as a “mass” to be mobilized, much like the peasant supporters in the liberated zones of the 1980s (Connell 2003).

This environment made the transition to a civilian-led, multi-party democracy nearly impossible because the leadership was trapped in the Icarus Paradox: the very “waxen wings” of absolute unity and top-down command that allowed them to defeat a superpower became the weights that dragged the state into authoritarianism. To the EPLF veterans, any deviation from the official line was a betrayal of the “martyrs” who died for a unified Eritrea. Consequently, the “Original Sin” of the civil war era created a psychological and institutional “path dependency.” Because they had won the war by being a monolith, they believed they could only maintain the state by remaining one. As David Pool notes, the transition from “guerrilla to government” failed because the EPLF never truly stopped being a guerrilla movement; it simply occupied the state and turned the entire country into a military camp (Pool 2001).

The Icarus Paradox: Why Successive Strengths Became Fatal Flaws

The transition from a liberation movement to a sovereign government necessitates a fundamental shift in “operating systems.” Liberation is an exercise in “creative destruction” - the dismantling of an occupying power through clandestine networks, sabotage, and guerrilla warfare. Conversely, state construction is an exercise in “institutional building” - the establishment of transparent laws, civil administration, and economic frameworks. The Icarus Paradox manifests when a leadership group, intoxicated by the efficacy of its wartime strategies, continues to “destroy” (suppress dissent, control information, and mobilize through coercion) at the very moment the new nation requires “building” (opening markets, delegating authority, and legislating rights). In Eritrea, the EPLF’s inability to decommission its revolutionary machinery transformed the country’s greatest assets into its most enduring liabilities.

Centralization vs. Institutionalization: The Shadow of the “Big Man”

In the field, the EPLF’s secretive, top-down hierarchy was a brilliant survival mechanism. To survive the 1970s and 80s, the Front had to operate with a “unity of command” that permitted no leaks and no internal friction. However, upon moving from the trenches to the seat of government, this same centralization stifled the growth of a functional state. In the decade following independence, the government transitioned from a revolutionary front into a personalized autocracy characterized by “Big Man” syndrome. President Issaias Afeworki and a shrinking circle of loyalist veterans bypassed the creation of formal, autonomous institutions in favor of informal, secretive power networks.

The most glaring example of this paradox is the fate of the 1997 Constitution. Drafted through an extensive consultative process that involved the diaspora and domestic stakeholders, the document was intended to be the bedrock of Eritrean democracy. It promised a multi-party system, independent courts, and fundamental civil liberties. Yet, the document was never implemented. The “Icarus” leadership viewed the constitution not as a framework for stability, but as a “meltable” wing - a set of constraints that would dilute the absolute, centralized control they believed was the only defense against Ethiopian “expansionism” and foreign meddling (Hepner 2009).

By choosing centralization over institutionalization, the regime effectively decapitated the state's potential for resilience. Instead of a professional judiciary, the regime created the “Special Court” (manned by military officers with no legal training). Instead of a legislative body, the National Assembly was allowed to go dormant after 2002. This lack of institutional “scaffolding” meant that when political crises arose - most notably the 2001 internal rift known as the G-15 - the only response the state knew was the “destruction logic” of the war: the arrest, disappearance, and silencing of all reformers (Connell 2005).

The Militarization of the Post-War Generation: The Failed Alchemy of Development

The EPLF’s greatest wartime strength was its ability to mobilize the peasantry and the urban youth into a highly disciplined, self-sacrificing collective. Following the 1998–2000 border war with Ethiopia, the leadership attempted to apply this exact “strength” to the challenge of national development. They launched the Warsai-Yikealo Development Campaign (WYDC), an ambitious social engineering project designed to merge the veterans of the liberation struggle (Yikealo) with the post-independence generation (Warsai) under a system of indefinite national service.

The regime’s logic was a classic Icarus trap: they believed that if military discipline could win a war of liberation, it could surely win the “war on poverty.” However, by applying the logic of the barracks to the civilian economy, they effectively transformed the entire adult population into a captive labor force. Under the guise of national service, university students were funneled into the Sawa military camp, and graduates were assigned to state-run projects or government offices for a pittance of a salary, often for decades.

As Gaim Kibreab (2009) observes, this militarized approach to “development” had three catastrophic consequences that mirror the Icarus fall:

1. The Death of the Private Sector: Small businesses and private enterprises could not compete for labor or resources against a state that used unpaid conscript labor.

2. The Erosion of Human Capital: By prioritizing military obedience over professional expertise, the state stifled innovation. The country’s best minds were either digging trenches or working as low-level clerks in military-run ministries.

3. The Historic Exodus: The “strength” of mobilization became a “push factor” for migration. Rather than staying to build the nation, the youth fled in droves to escape what the United Nations has described as a system akin to modern-day slavery.

Historical Context: The Brittle Strength of Command

This paradox is not unique to the Horn of Africa; it is a recurring theme in states that fail to “pivot.” Ancient Sparta provides a stark historical parallel. Sparta’s success was built on the Agoge - a system of total military mobilization that made them the most feared infantry in the world. However, when Sparta defeated Athens and became the hegemon of Greece, they found themselves unable to govern. Their “strength” was too brittle for the complexities of diplomacy and commerce. They refused to grant citizenship to outsiders and remained a closed military society, which eventually led to their demographic collapse and military irrelevance (Cartledge 2002).

Similarly, the early Soviet Union under “War Communism” used the centralization and mobilization of the Red Army to survive the Russian Civil War. When Lenin attempted to keep this system in place, it led to economic collapse and peasant revolts, forcing him to briefly pivot to the New Economic Policy (NEP). Later, Stalin returned to the “command and control” model, which achieved rapid industrialization but built a state so rigid that it could not survive the technological and social shifts of the late 20th century (Kotkin 2001).

Eritrea’s failure, therefore, is a failure of “success.” The EPLF was so successful as a liberation front that its leaders could not imagine any other way to exist. They believed that the wings of militarism that carried them to the heights of Asmara would keep them there forever, unaware that the higher they flew toward the “sun” of total state control, the faster the wax of their revolutionary legitimacy would melt.

The Diaspora Paradox: Long-Distance Nationalism and Cognitive Dissonance

A unique and deeply puzzling dimension of the Eritrean failure is the behavior of its massive global diaspora. Despite the country having one of the highest per-capita flight rates in the world, a significant portion of those living abroad - including many who fought in the thirty-year war - remain vocal, financial, and political supporters of the regime in Asmara. This phenomenon represents a “Diaspora Paradox”: a situation where individuals enjoy the protections of Western liberal democracies while actively subsidizing and defending a system that denies those same rights to their compatriots at home. This behavior is not merely a political choice; it is a manifestation of “long-distance nationalism” rooted in the psychological trauma of the struggle and the sophisticated transnational control of the state.

The Psychology of Sunk Costs: The “Martyr” as a Shield

At the heart of this paradox is the concept of “identity-anchoring.” For the generation that fought the war (the Yikealo), the EPLF was more than a military organization; it was a totalizing social and emotional universe. These individuals invested their youth, their health, and their friends in the cause of independence. According to the logic of the Icarus Paradox, they are “victims of their own success.” Having achieved the impossible - the military defeat of Ethiopia - they find it psychologically devastating to admit that the movement they served has morphed into an instrument of oppression.

To acknowledge the failure of the Eritrean state is, for many, to admit that the deaths of over 60,000 “martyrs” (Semaetat) were in vain. The regime masterfully exploits this “cult of the martyr,” framing any dissent as a desecration of the sacrifice made by the fallen (Bernal 2014). Consequently, veterans in the diaspora often engage in a form of selective perception: they view the current suffering in Eritrea as a “temporary hardship” or a “necessary price” for sovereignty, shielding their identity from the painful reality of state failure.

Transnational Authoritarianism and the 2% Tax

The Eritrean government has pioneered what political scientists call “transnational authoritarianism” - the ability of a state to project its power across borders to control its citizens abroad. This is achieved through a combination of financial extraction and social surveillance. The most tangible link is the 2% “Recovery and Rehabilitation Tax.” Eritrea is one of the only nations in the world to impose a mandatory income tax on its diaspora. Payment is often a prerequisite for obtaining essential documents, such as passports, or for the right to inherit property or conduct business back home.

However, the control is also social. Through the PFDJ-affiliated community centers and “Mahberat” (associations), the regime maintains a “state within a state” in cities like Washington D.C., London, and Frankfurt. In these spaces, the “groupthink” forged in the trenches of the 1980s is kept alive. Those who dissent are labeled as “Junta” (a derogatory term for Ethiopian sympathizers) or traitors, leading to social ostracization. As Tricia Redeker Hepner (2009) notes, the diaspora is not a space of refuge from the state, but rather a “transnational field” where the same hierarchies and fears of the liberation struggle are reproduced.

Cognitive Dissonance and the Encirclement Narrative

The behavior of the pro-regime diaspora is also sustained by a profound “encirclement narrative.” The leadership in Asmara promotes a worldview in which Eritrea is a David constantly under threat from a global Goliath (the United States, the UN, and Ethiopia). This narrative transforms the regime from an oppressor into a “guardian of the nation.”

This creates a state of acute cognitive dissonance. A supporter may work as a lawyer or civil servant in a democratic country, benefiting from freedom of speech and the rule of law, yet spend their evenings on social media defending the arrest of Eritrean journalists and the suspension of the constitution. They reconcile this by believing that Eritrea is “not yet ready” for democracy due to external threats. They view Western criticism not as a concern for human rights, but as a neo-colonial plot to undermine Eritrean independence. In this feedback loop of wartime propaganda, the “success” of having stayed independent against all odds justifies every failure of governance (Woldemikael 2013).

Historical Parallels: From the Irish Diaspora to the Cold War Exiles

This “long-distance nationalism” has historical precedents. During the 19th and early 20th centuries, the Irish diaspora in the United States - the “Fenians” - were often more radical and uncompromising than those living in Ireland. Living in safety, they could afford to fund a “pure” and violent struggle against Britain, often ignoring the complex political realities and domestic suffering that their funding helped prolong. They were supporting an idea of Ireland that they had carried with them across the Atlantic, rather than the reality of the island itself.

Similarly, during the Cold War, various “governments-in-exile” or diaspora groups maintained rigid, monolithic views of their homelands. They often became “more Catholic than the Pope,” clinging to revolutionary or reactionary ideologies long after those ideologies had failed the people on the ground. Like the Eritrean diaspora, these groups were often trapped in a time-warp, where the “successes” of a past era (the revolution, the resistance) became the only lens through which they could view the present.

From Wings to Weight: The Diaspora's Evolving Role

The diaspora is essentially the “external engine” of the Icarus Paradox. During the war, the diaspora’s incredible mobilization and funding were the wings that allowed the EPLF to fly. Today, that same mobilization - unwilling to adapt to the reality of the state’s decline - acts as the leaden weight that prevents change. By providing the regime with a “financial and political lifeline,” the diaspora allows the leadership to bypass the needs and voices of the domestic population. Until the diaspora can reconcile its idealized memory of the Ghedli with the lived reality of the Warsai (the post-independence generation), they remain, as Victoria Bernal (2014) suggests, “citizens of a nation that exists more in their imaginations and digital networks than in the reality of the Red Sea coast.”

Historical Parallels: From Sparta to the Soviet Union

The trajectory of Eritrea is often treated by contemporary analysts as an African anomaly _ an isolated case of “uniquely” stubborn authoritarianism. However, history offers sobering warnings of the Icarus Paradox in state-building, demonstrating that the failure to pivot from a “war footing” to a “peace footing” is a recurring trap for highly successful revolutionary movements. When a society’s identity is forged in the fires of an existential struggle, the very structures that ensure victory often become the architect of its eventual stagnation. As briefly mensioned above and as explained in detail below, Ancient Sparta and the early Soviet Union provide the most compelling parallels to the Eritrean dilemma.

Ancient Sparta: The “Museum State” of the Peloponnese

Ancient Sparta represents the quintessential historical example of a society destroyed by the rigidity of its own success. Much like the EPLF’s “Nakfa” culture, Sparta was organized around a singular goal: military excellence. The Spartan Agoge - a state-sponsored education and training program - produced the most disciplined and effective infantry in the Greek world. This “success” allowed Sparta to win the Peloponnesian War (431–404 BC), ending Athenian hegemony and establishing Sparta as the supreme power in Greece.

However, the Icarus Paradox manifested the moment the war ended. Sparta’s “wings” were its totalizing militarization and its rejection of outside influence. To maintain its military edge, Sparta relied on a massive underclass of “Helots” - unfree laborers who were essentially state-owned serfs. This bears a striking resemblance to Eritrea’s “Warsai-Yikealo” campaign, where the post-independence generation is kept in a state of indefinite “national service” to provide labor for state-run projects and military defense (Cartledge 2002).

Because the Spartan leadership feared that any political liberalization or economic openness would corrupt their martial discipline, they refused to adapt to the complexities of managing a post-war empire. They could not integrate new citizens, they suppressed intellectual innovation, and they maintained a paranoid, closed-circuit economy. As a result, the Spartan state became brittle. Its population dwindled as the youth were ground down by the system or fled, and its economy stagnated. Sparta eventually became a “museum of a state” - a place where travelers went to witness a relic of past glory that was no longer capable of functional governance (Cartledge 2002). Eritrea, with its preserved tanks from the 1991 victory and its refusal to implement the 1997 Constitution, is arguably the Sparta of the 21st century.

The Soviet Union: The Trap of “War Communism” and “Encirclement”

A more contemporary parallel to Eritrea’s “Original Sin” can be found in the early years of the Soviet Union. Following the 1917 Revolution, the Bolsheviks faced a brutal civil war against the “White” armies and foreign intervention. To survive, they implemented “War Communism” - a system of total state control over the economy, the forced requisitioning of grain, and the militarization of labor. Like the EPLF’s self-reliance during the thirty-year war, War Communism was a “success” in that it allowed the Bolsheviks to win the war against overwhelming odds.

The paradox arose when the war ended. The Bolshevik leadership, particularly under Stalin, became addicted to the “command and control” mechanisms that had won the civil war. They viewed the entire world through the lens of “capitalist encirclement” - a narrative almost identical to the Eritrean PFDJ’s narrative of being surrounded by “hostile forces” and Western imperialists. This narrative was used to justify the persistence of emergency measures long after the actual emergency had passed.

In the Soviet case, the “strength” of mobilization became the “flaw” of stagnation. By rejecting market signals and civilian pluralism in favor of “Five-Year Plans” and forced labor camps (the Gulag), the USSR built a massive military-industrial complex but failed to create a sustainable or innovative civilian economy. As Stephen Kotkin (2001) argues, the Soviet system was a “victim of its own initial mobilization success.” It could build a tank or a rocket through sheer force of will, but it could not build a functioning society that people wanted to live in. Eritrea’s current state-building failure mirrors this: the government is remarkably efficient at mobilizing people for war or “national service,” but it is utterly incapable of managing a peaceful, prosperous, and diverse modern economy.

The Path Dependency of the “Front”

What connects Sparta, the Soviet Union, and Eritrea is the concept of “path dependency.” When a movement wins a spectacular victory through a specific set of behaviors - discipline, secrecy, and absolute unity - it becomes “locked in” to those behaviors. To the leadership, changing the strategy feels like a betrayal of the identity that made them great.

In the Eritrean context, this path dependency is reinforced by the “groupthink” of the aging EPLF elite. They see the 1991 victory not as a starting point for a new civilian state, but as the final validation of their military logic. Any suggestion that they should “de-militarize” the state is seen as an admission that the war was not the ultimate blueprint for the future. Like Icarus, they believe that the closer they fly to the sun of total control, the more “sovereign” they become - failing to realize that the heat of that control is exactly what is destroying the nation’s foundations (Miller 1990).

The Failure of the “Victor”

History teaches that the qualities required to win a country are rarely the same as the qualities required to run a country. Sparta won the war but lost the peace; the Soviet Union won the revolution but lost the future. Eritrea achieved the “miracle” of independence, but because it treated that independence as a military trophy rather than a civilian responsibility, it has fallen into the Icarus Paradox. The “Original Sin” was the belief that the revolution never has to end - and in refusing to let it end, the leadership has ensured that the state can never truly begin.

Conclusion: What Can Be Done?

To break the Icarus Paradox and halt the nation’s descent, Eritrea must undergo a radical and painful process of “political de-mobilization.” The strategies of the thirty-year war - centralization, secrecy, and total mobilization - are no longer the guardians of Eritrean sovereignty; they have become the primary threat to the nation’s survival. The state is currently consuming its own future to preserve a past that ended in 1991. Breaking this cycle requires a fundamental shift from the “logic of the front” to the “logic of the state.”

Practical and transformative steps toward recovery must include:

1. The Implementation of the 1997 Constitution

The most critical step in grounded state-building is the transition from a “government of men” to a “government of laws.” The 1997 Constitution, despite its flaws, remains the only domestic document with a semblance of national legitimacy. Its implementation would provide the “institutional scaffolding” necessary to transition away from the personalized rule of President Issaias Afeworki. By establishing an independent judiciary and a functioning legislature, Eritrea could begin to heal the “Icarus” impulse of absolute centralization. As Tricia Redeker Hepner (2009) argues, constitutionalism is the only mechanism that can transform the Eritrean person from a “subject-soldier” into a “citizen-rights-bearer.” Without this legal anchor, any reform will remain at the mercy of the “Big Man” and his inner circle.

2. The Demobilization of National Service

The “Warsai-Yikealo” campaign, once envisioned as an engine of development, has become a vacuum that sucks the lifeblood out of the country. To recover, Eritrea must set a definitive, eighteen-month limit on national service, as originally intended in the 1995 proclamation. De-militarizing the labor force is an economic necessity; the private sector cannot breathe as long as the state maintains a monopoly on the country’s youth through what the United Nations has described as a system of forced labor. Replacing this with a professional, downsized military would allow the “Warsai” generation to enter the civilian market, pursue higher education, and build families within the country rather than fleeing across the Sahara and the Mediterranean. This shift would replace the “waxen wings” of coerced mobilization with the durable engine of a free-market economy (Kibreab 2009).

3. Political Pluralism and National Reconciliation

Eritrea must finally address its “Original Sin” by moving beyond the monolithic “groupthink” of the PFDJ. This requires an inclusive national reconciliation process that invites former ELF factions, the diaspora opposition, and civil society back into the national fold. History shows that a state built on the exclusion of its own brothers is a brittle one. By allowing for a multi-vocal political culture, Eritrea can begin to utilize the immense intellectual and financial capital of its diaspora for construction rather than just “long-distance” defense of the status quo. The state must become a “big tent” that reflects the actual diversity of the Eritrean people, rather than a narrow corridor for a single revolutionary elite (Pool 2001).

The Grounding of the Nation

Eritrea’s tragedy is a classic Greek drama: the hero’s greatest virtue becomes his fatal flaw. The EPLF flew so high and so bravely against the sun of Ethiopian occupation that it forgot the ground - the civilian, messy, pluralistic, and mundane ground of a functioning nation - is where a state actually lives. The “waxen wings” of hyper-militarization and autarky allowed the movement to achieve the miracle of 1991, but they are melting under the heat of the 21st century’s economic and social realities.

Only by shedding these wings can Eritrea hope to build a sustainable future. The leadership must realize that “sovereignty” does not mean the absence of foreign influence, but the presence of a flourishing, free, and contented citizenry. If the state continues to prioritize the “struggle” over the “society,” it risks a final, catastrophic fall. To save the revolution, the revolution must finally be allowed to end, so that the nation can finally begin.

References

Bernal, Victoria. 2014. Nation as Network: Diaspora, Cyberspace, and Citizenship in the Horn of Africa. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Cartledge, Paul. 2002. Sparta and Lakonia: A Regional History 1300–362 BC. London: Routledge.

Connell, Dan. 2003. Against All Odds: A Chronicle of the Eritrean Revolution. Trenton: Red Sea Press.

Connell, Dan. 2005. Conversations with Eritrean Political Prisoners. Trenton: Red Sea Press.

Hepner, Tricia Redeker. 2009. Soldiers, Martyrs, Traitors, and Exiles: Political Conflict in Eritrea and the Diaspora. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Kibreab, Gaim. 2009. Eritrea: A Dream Deferred. Woodbridge: James Currey.

Kotkin, Stephen. 2001. Armageddon Averted: The Soviet Collapse, 1970-2000. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Miller, Danny. 1990. The Icarus Paradox: How Exceptional Companies Bring About Their Own Downfall. New York: HarperBusiness.

Pool, David. 2001. From Guerrillas to Government: The Eritrean People's Liberation Front. Oxford: James Currey.

Woldemikael, Tekle M. 2013. “Introduction: Postliberation Eritrea.” Africa Today 60 (2): 2–19.

Woldemikael, Tekle M. 2018. Postliberation Statehood in Eritrea: Prophecy and Performance. Gainesville: University Press of Florida.

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Global Policy / መትከላት

Snitna: Code of Conduct — መርበብ ሓበሬታና ዝምራሓሉ መትከላት

ስኒትና.ኮም (www.snitna.com)፡ ነቲ ኣብ 1936 ዝወጸ መትከላት ጋዜጠኝነት (UK and Irish journalism): ከምኡውን ንመትከላት ሃገራዊ ማሕበር ጋዜጠኛታት (National Union of Journalists (NUJ)፡ የኽብር። Snitna Policy Code Asset Logo ብተወሳኺ፡ ነቲ ኣብ ዩቱብ ቻነል ዝወጽእ ሓበሬታ፡ ንመትከላት ማሕበራዊ መትከላት ዩቱብ (YouTube Community Guidelines)፡ እናኽበረ የውጽእ። ስኒትና፡ ብዝከኣሎ መጠን፡ ነዚ መትከላት'ዚን ናይ ሃገርና ኤርትራን ህዝባን ክዉንነትን ምርኩስ ገይሩ፡ ኣብ መርበብ ሓበሬታኡ ስኒትና (www.snitna.com) ክውጽእ ዝግብኦ ሓበሬታ እናመመየ ከውጽእ ይህቅንን ይጽዕርን። እዚ ስራሕዚ ምሉእ ዓወት ንክህልዎ ድማ ብዓቢኡ፡ ግቡእ ኣጠቓቕማ ተሳተፍቲን ምትሕብባርን ምስዝህሉ ኢዩ። ስለዚ፡ ነዚ መትከላት ዚ ንምኽባር ንኹሉ ተገልጋላይ'ዚ መርበብዚ ንጽውዕ። ዝኾነ ሃሳዪ ተርእዮታት ምስዘጋጥሙ፡ ቅሬታኹም ወይ ርእይቶኹም ብኢመይል ኣድራሻና ኣቢልኩም ክትልእኩልና ንላቦ። Read more

See also Related / ምስዚ ዝተኣሳሰር ሓበሬታ፡-

THE ICARUS PARADOX: Why the Strengths of the Eritrean Revolution Became the Shackles of the State

by Dr Gebre Gebremariam

Snitna: Code of Conduct — መርበብ ሓበሬታና ዝምራሓሉ መትከላት

THE ICARUS PARADOX:
Why the Strengths of the Eritrean Revolution Became the Shackles of the State