Communal bonds that once sustained Eritrean society have been eroded by a surveillance system that promotes suspicion over trust.
Eritrea’s transformation from a society rooted in mutual support to one dominated by state surveillance highlights the profound impact that political regimes can have on cultural values. Historically, Eritrean communities thrived on solidarity, with close-knit bonds providing both safety and sustenance. Yet, the gradual encroachment and influence of guerrilla rebels began to alter these foundational values, reshaping practices of communal support into mechanisms of control. This article explores Eritrea’s cultural evolution, tracing its journey from a tradition of voluntary care to a society where once-shared values now serve as tools of state dominance.
Traditional Culture of Mutual Support
Eritrean society has long operated on a powerful ethos of cooperation and mutual support. In rural villages, communities functioned as a single supportive unit, with neighbours and extended families caring for each other without expectation of return. Mutual aid permeated daily life; for instance, if a child cried from hunger at night, a neighbour would provide milk. Similarly, if the familiar sound of a coffee grinder was absent, it signalled that a family lacked beans of coffee for Eritrea’s daily coffee ceremony, prompting neighbours to contribute. These actions were not mere gestures but deep expressions of collective care that reinforced community ties and well-being.
Community support extended beyond everyday needs. If a family lost property due to disaster, the entire village would come together to restore their losses — a practice known as “Mekorme.” Neighbours without land could receive temporary plots, called “Minihit,” to cultivate or borrow a milking cow to meet their needs. It was customary to give one-tenth of a harvest to support those in need, and specialized tools, even if owned by one household, were considered available to all. This profound interdependence unified villages, with every individual’s success intrinsically tied to communal well-being.
Eritrea’s shift from a society based on mutual aid to one dominated by surveillance exemplifies how political regimes can distort cultural values to maintain control. Communal bonds that once sustained Eritrean society have been weakened by a system that promotes suspicion over trust. Networks of mutual care, once built on respect and solidarity, have become tools of coercion.
The Struggle for “Independence” and the Rise of Surveillance
The Eritrean struggle for “independence”, beginning in the 1960s, sparked the first shift in these communal values. Both the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF) and later the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) capitalized on these social bonds, securing support for the struggle against Ethiopian rule. Villagers housed guerrilla fighters and shared resources, united in a common vision of freedom.
The EPLF, however, introduced a more divisive dynamic. To ensure loyalty and control, they structured society into cells, or “Wahiyo,” with specialized networks for different demographics — women, youth, and farmers. This structure fragmented traditional family bonds and introduced conflicting loyalties even within households. Female combatants, for example, sometimes acted as informants within their families, fostering suspicion in communities where women traditionally held familial sanctity. Surveillance of political loyalty continued even after “independence”, sowing deeper mistrust among Eritreans.
Surveillance and Polarization Among Villagers
The village where I was born was initially under the control of the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF). But gradually, the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF), with its divisive wahiyo (cell) surveillance system, began to infiltrate, and tensions grew. Our village, once peaceful and united, began to fracture as families increasingly aligned themselves with opposing sides. The harmony that had bound us for generations started to unravel.
Our village had two churches on opposite hills — one Catholic, the other Orthodox. Each guerrilla faction established itself on one of these hills, dividing our community with an unseen yet powerful boundary, like a kind of Berlin Wall. Even my own family was affected: my parents’ home and my grandparents’ home, once closely connected, were now separated by ‘ideological lines’. As children, we couldn’t understand why visiting our grandparents was no longer allowed.
In one particularly painful instance, a close relative’s family was split. The mother and her son sided with one faction, while the father allied with the other. Distrust ran so deep that the mother and son refused any association with the father’s faction, and he would have nothing to do with theirs. The conflict had seeped into the family itself, dividing once inseparable households.
During their son’s wedding, these suppressed tensions erupted into open conflict, casting a shadow over what should have been a joyful occasion. The strife born of surveillance and division had forever altered our village and our families.
Later, in the early 1980s, the ELF was pushed out of Eritrea, leaving the EPLF in full control. The EPLF then began forcibly recruiting children and even newly married couples during their honeymoon — a violation that defied deeply held cultural taboos. My own uncle and his wife were taken by force immediately after their wedding.
Yet, rather than questioning why their children were being taken, villagers began to cast suspicion on families whose children were not taken, pointing fingers at them. This division served the EPLF’s purpose, intensifying surveillance and polarization within the community. This climate of suspicion and fragmentation has persisted, reinforcing the authoritarian regime in Eritrea to this day.
The Normalization of State Surveillance
Following Eritrea’s apparent independence in 1993, the regime under the brutal dictator of Isaias Afwerki expanded these control mechanisms instead of fostering communal rebuilding. The EPLF, rebranded as the People’s Front for Democracy and Justice (PFDJ) in 1994, prioritized state security over social welfare, embedding surveillance networks within everyday life. Citizens were expected to monitor each other’s behaviour and report suspicious activities. Non-compliance brought severe repercussions, including imprisonment or mainly disappearance. What had once been a voluntary culture of care became a coercive mechanism, transforming individuals into agents of surveillance and fundamentally altering the social fabric.
This shift profoundly changed the dynamics of Eritrean communities. Neighbours, who were once sources of support, now became potential threats, and open communication became risky. Every conversation and action carried the possibility of betrayal, even within family units. Trust, once central to Eritrean solidarity, eroded in favour of pervasive suspicion.
The Deepening Culture of Fear and Distrust
Eritrea’s evolution from mutual support to surveillance has deeply undermined social trust. Once reliant on each other for support and comfort, Eritreans today view relationships with caution and fear. National conscription, which forces young people into indefinite military service, compounds this sense of isolation as families are separated for extended periods.
Even within families, conversations are guarded, with parents and siblings steering clear of sensitive topics that could be reported. This climate has stifled political discourse and civic engagement, as fear of punishment prevents Eritreans from advocating for change or voicing dissent. This pervasive fear stymies collective action, hindering meaningful progress.
The Erosion of Eritrean Communal Identity
Eritrea’s shift from a society grounded in mutual aid to one characterized by surveillance has deeply eroded its traditional communal identity. The customary laws that once underpinned a self-governing, peaceful society have now been co-opted to sustain authoritarian rule. When Italian colonizers arrived in Eritrea in 1890, they encountered highland and lowland communities resolving conflicts independently, including serious offenses like murder, through norms such as “Garn gualn”— a system of compensation and marriage alliances.
Through marriage bonds, blood pacts, and reparative compensation, these communities maintained peace without external intervention, which led the Italians to describe Eritrea as a “police-less, peaceful, and self-governing society,” leaving these customary laws intact. Today, however, these traditions of self-governance have been weaponized to support a police state, eroding the solidarity that once defined Eritrean society.
The Role of Religion and the Co-Opting of Tradition
Religion, a cornerstone of Eritrean society, has also been co-opted for state surveillance. Traditionally, priests — revered as spiritual guides and community leaders in Eritrean villages — have served as trusted confidants. However, the regime, building on practices established during the guerrilla era, has extended its influence into religious life, recruiting priests and monks as informants to monitor their congregations. As believers naturally turn to their spiritual guides in confession, they now face a painful reality: these trusted figures may also be agents of the regime. This intrusion has eroded the trust placed in religious spaces, rendering even sacred realms and personal faith vulnerable to state control.
The Struggle to Reclaim Solidarity in a Surveillance State
Eritrea’s shift from a society based on mutual aid to one dominated by surveillance exemplifies how political regimes can distort cultural values to maintain control. Communal bonds that once sustained Eritrean society have been weakened by a system that promotes suspicion over trust. Networks of mutual care, once built on respect and solidarity, have become tools of coercion.
Reclaiming this spirit of solidarity presents both a challenge and an opportunity for Eritreans. Addressing the root causes of the surveillance state, namely the regime’s monopoly on power and the pervasive culture of fear, is essential to rebuilding trust. Until Eritreans can express themselves freely without fear of punishment, these bonds of mutual support will remain strained. A future where trust prevails will require significant political reform and a collective effort to resist the entrenched culture of surveillance. As Eritreans look ahead, they must find ways to reconnect with the values of solidarity, community, and mutual support that once defined their society — values that offer hope for a future in which trust and resilience can once again thrive.
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