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About the Film – Made in Ethiopia
The documentary Made in Ethiopia explores the complexities of industrialization in Ethiopia through the lens of three main characters: Betty, a young factory worker; Workinesh, a local farmer displaced by the industrial complex; and Motto, a Chinese business mogul managing the industrial zone for her Chinese investors.
Their aspirations—whether for economic security, land, or business success—remain out of reach, forcing each to redefine their path amid challenges that extend beyond what the film presents. While their individual struggles highlight the human cost of industrial expansion, the documentary leaves broader systemic issues—such as government policies, foreign investment dynamics, bureaucracy, and ongoing conflicts—largely unexamined, leaving viewers to piece together the full scope of Ethiopia’s industrialization dilemma on their own.
While the filmmakers aimed for objectivity, the film omits key factors behind the industrial complex’s termination—indirectly tied to Ethiopia’s ongoing civil unrest, which imploded when the Tigray Defense Force attacked the Northern Command shortly after the COVID-19 pandemic. Though it briefly acknowledges the Tigray conflict, it overlooks how the war has fueled instability, particularly in the Amhara region and parts of Oromia, deterring foreign investment and making long-term operations uncertain for Ethiopia. By neglecting Ethiopia’s broader internal struggles, the film leaves a critical gap in explaining why foreign investment remains volatile. While the Prosperity Party portrays itself as a stable partner for investors, deepening instability, inflation, bureaucracy, and unethical business practices make it difficult for businesses, including large-scale industrial projects, to succeed.
One of the film’s most striking and unsettling scenes depicts a ritual by Dukem residents in Oromia who practice the Geda system. Among them are farmers who had been waiting years for 500-square-meter plots as compensation for farmland lost to the planned Phase 2 expansion of the industrial complex that Motto had been working so eagerly to accomplish. The ritual involved spraying blood on a large tree and draping a cow’s intestines across the center of the tree—an offering to their altar. This tree, like the one on the Oromia flag, was more than a landmark; it was a point of contact where rituals and sacrifices were made to idols. As one of many altars used in the Oromia region, its preservation is a priority to the residents in Dukem who were practicing the Geda system rituals. If Phase 2 proceeded, the tree would be cut down, deepening the farmers’ frustrations. In desperation, they performed the ritual, hoping to force the Chinese investor, Motto, to vacate the land for three years—a goal explicitly stated by the shaman leading the ceremony.
However, without deeper context on Ethiopia’s broader conflicts and economic instability, one might assume the industrial complex was derailed solely by the shaman’s edict. Toward the end, the film shows Workinesh working in the complex alongside her children. Meanwhile, a scene confirms that Motto transitioned to the coffee sector. Though the film does not explicitly reveal who took over ownership and management, it suggests that local residents—who had been waiting for compensation—began working there.
The filmmakers worked within a complex and politically sensitive environment—one where the broader climate likely influenced both the production and the final narrative, even if no explicit censorship was acknowledged. Despite these constraints, they created a film that serves as a powerful springboard for conversation. Director Xinyan Yu and producer Tamara Dawit, who participated in a short Q&A after the screening, were commended by audience members for their thoughtful approach to intercultural storytelling and their measured handling of sensitive topics.
Yet while the filmmakers did not admit to omitting any perspectives, a significant gap remains: the film avoids direct engagement with Ethiopia’s current political realities, including widespread civil unrest, military conflict, and ongoing human rights abuses. These issues are central to understanding the nation’s economic instability and its hostile environment for foreign investment. Their absence raises questions about how political pressure—both implicit and explicit—may have influenced what could be safely addressed.
Dawit, as an Ethiopian-Canadian producer and cultural ambassador of sorts, played a central role in shaping the film’s local grounding. Her early involvement ensured cultural nuance and access, but it’s also fair to question whether her positioning influenced the decision to take a safer, less confrontational approach to Ethiopia’s political struggles. Whether out of alignment with the federal government or personal necessity, the choice not to confront or contextualize the regime’s authoritarian practices—including its documented record of censorship, political repression, and violence against dissenters—left a notable silence in the film.
The result is a compelling but carefully contained portrait of industrialization in Ethiopia—one that reflects both the filmmakers’ adaptability and the broader challenges of telling honest stories within repressive environments. At the same time, it leaves viewers questioning which voices and realities were softened, excluded, or strategically avoided.
Broader Conversations and Thought Processes
Beyond its immediate narrative, Made in Ethiopia ignites deeper discussions about Public Investment Projects (PIPs) and their broader economic and social implications. Ethiopia has increasingly relied on PIPs to develop industrial parks, attract foreign investors, and boost manufacturing. The 167-hectare industrial zone in Dukem is one such initiative, aiming to establish Ethiopia as a major production hub.
The Oromo-based Prosperity Party leadership has sought to elevate the Geda system as a central governing philosophy for all of Ethiopia. However, this framework does not align with the ideologies and religious beliefs of the country’s diverse ethnic and religious groups, deepening divisions and fueling resistance. Many Ethiopians see this as further evidence of ethnic bias, with other groups facing repression and displacement by those members of the Prosperity Party.
The film raises several thought-provoking questions about the long-term Impact of Chinese Investments – Do these projects foster lasting economic growth, or do they create dependency on foreign capital? Displacement vs. Development – What happens when local farmers are forced off their land? How do these policies affect their futures? Censorship and Political Stability – The film’s omission of Ethiopia’s political unrest invites questions about who controls the narrative of industrial progress. Traditional Beliefs vs. Industrialization – The depiction of rituals and spiritual resistance against foreign investors raises concerns about the clash between deeply rooted traditions and modern development efforts. War and Economic Collapse – The film’s biggest missing piece is how ongoing conflict discourages foreign investment and halts industrial progress, making long-term prosperity unattainable for all.
While the government eagerly welcomes foreign investors, native-born Ethiopians who return home to reinvest in their country and reverse the brain drain often face bureaucratic roadblocks, corruption, and heartbreaking disillusionment—unless they are aligned with the ruling party of the day. Whether it’s navigating customs to bring in equipment or securing government approval for projects, these investors are frequently forced to pay exorbitant fees and ultimately shut out of their own country’s future, while foreign investors receive preferential treatment. Their ideas and vision for Ethiopia remain unrealized—not due to a lack of effort, but because both local and federal governments deny them the same opportunities granted to outsiders. Entrepreneurs lack the financial backing of government-funded PIPs, and those in power often seek personal kickbacks from allocated funds.
By weaving together these issues, Made in Ethiopia challenges viewers to consider the real costs of rapid industrial expansion—not just in economic terms, but in the lives, beliefs, and stability of the people most affected by it. The omission of certain factors pushes the viewer to reflect on the missing pieces.
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