In a move that surprised absolutely nobody with a passing familiarity with authoritarian politics, Ethiopia's Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has won a 'landslide' victory in the country's election. The result, which saw the ruling party secure an impressive 99.9% of the vote (the remaining 0.1% presumably belonging to a stray dog that wandered into a polling station), has prompted the British embassy in Addis Ababa to stockpile gin and prepare for the inevitable unrest.
Let us be clear: this is a triumph. A triumph of political theatre over democratic process. A triumph of the sort of electoral mathematics that would make a Kremlinologist blush. The opposition, predictably, has cried foul. But then, they would say that, wouldn't they? They've been crying foul since the day they realised that running against a man with an army, a helicopter, and a Nobel Peace Prize is a bit like bringing a water pistol to a nuclear war.
The conflict fears, meanwhile, are as real as my grandmother's gout. Tigray is still smouldering, Oromia is restless, and the entire country is sitting on a powder keg of ethnic tension. The British embassy, ever the diplomat, has issued a travel advisory warning of 'potential civil unrest' – which is embassy-speak for 'you might get your head blown off by a stray bullet while queuing for a visa extension.' I imagine the ambassador is currently polishing his corkscrew and practising his 'calm but firm' demeanour.
But let us not dwell on the grim. Let us celebrate the absurd. The electoral commission, bless their cotton socks, declared the result with a straight face. The prime minister, meanwhile, has promised a 'new era of prosperity and peace' – a phrase that has historically preceded exactly the opposite. One can almost hear the collective sigh of the international community, who have invested billions in a man who now looks suspiciously like a strongman in a different suit.
And what of the British response? A carefully worded statement expressing 'concern' and 'hope for inclusive dialogue.' Translation: 'We've got a consulate to protect and a gin shortage to avoid.' The embassy has already booked extra security, stockpiled Earl Grey, and prepared a series of coded memos to be shredded at a moment's notice. The expat community, meanwhile, is split between those who think it's all terribly exciting and those who have already packed their pith helmets.
In conclusion: Abiy Ahmed has won, the conflict will continue, and the British embassy will keep calm and carry on. As for the rest of us, we can only watch, tut, and pour ourselves a large one. The gin, I mean. The gin is vital. It's the only thing that makes sense in a world where a landslide victory can be held while the nation burns.
