My Great-Grandfather (Part 2)

Some Time to Reflect

So, what are we to make of this? 

What are we to make of አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው's collection of journal entries, unpublished articles, government documents, and personal correspondences? 

Are we to dismiss them, my dear reader? 

Are we to dismiss the first hand accounts of a man who not only served in the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን, but was also its Vice-President? 

Or are we to automatically accept አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው, and his trove of documents, as credible and persuasive?  

I for one wasn't so certain. 

Sure, all these documents were interesting, but were they convincing?

Were they detailed enough to vindicate the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን as a culturally grounded and assertive group that actively directed the codification process?

Especially when it came to the Civil Code and those parts of the Code that regulate our social lives? 

Again, I wasn't so sure. 

So, in order to get some perspective, I decided to take a break from that old and rusty briefcase.

I decided to put it aside, take a step back, and reflect on some questions that had been slowly forming in my mind.

Questions like: Were there others? 

Were there other first hand accounts that agreed with አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው, René David, and Jeane Graven? 

Were there other legal experts or historians that vouched for the cultural commitment of the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን? 

Or were my great-grandfather and his foreign colleagues alone in their convictions? 

Well, in order to answer all these questions, I decided to start where most people do. I decided to turn to someone who is as highly respected as he is authoritative: ዶ/ር አበራ ጀምበሬ. 

In his seminal work, “የኢትዮጵያ ሕግና የፍትሕ አፈጻጸም ታሪክ”,  ዶ/ር አበራ ጀምበሬ explored the inner workings of the Commission in a very particular way. He interviewed and drew from the experiences of people like ማሞ ታደሰ; a senior member and leading coordinator of the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን who would later become the Minister of Justice.

By analyzing the first hand accounts of the Minister, and some archival records, ዶ/ር አበራ ጀምበሬ would go on to describe the codification process like this: 

“የተዘጋጁትም ረቂቆች ከፈረንሣይኛ ወደ አማርኛ ተተርጉመው ለኢትዮጵያዊያኑ የጉባኤው አባሎች ከታደሉ በኋላ፣ ሁሉም በየበኩላቸው አጥንተው እና የመነጋገሪያ አሳባቸውንም አዘጋጅተው ለአምስቱ ሕጎች በተለያየ ጊዜ ከሕጉ አርቃቂ የሕግ ባለሙያ (ኤክስፐርት) ጋር በስብሰባ ተቀምጠው፣ በሕጉ መንፈስና በአንዳንዶቹ አንቀጾች አስፈላጊነት ሰፊ ክርክር አደረጉ። ከዚያም አግባብ ላለው የሥራ ኮሚቴ (working committee) እያንዳንዱ ረቂቅ ተላልፎ በዝርዝር ተጠና። ከሁሉም በበለጠ ያከራከሩት የፍትሐ ብሔሩ ሕግ አንዳንድ ክፍሎች [ነበሩ]።”

የኢትዮጵያ ሕግና የፍትሕ አፈጻጸም ታሪክ (ከ1426 እስከ 1966 ዓ.ም.)

In addition to this, I also found other legal experts who shared this assessment.  

Whether it's Robert Sedler’s take on how the Commission made major changes to the Civil Code, Jacques Vanderlinden’s observations on how its Ethiopian members insisted that their legal tradition shape the final outcome, or George Krzeczunowicz’s emphasis on which parts of the Civil Code were shaped by such culturally grounded efforts, each of these legal experts tried to argue this important point: 

Whatever its faults, the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን played an active role in crafting those laws that regulate our social lives. 

For these writers, the Commission was neither submissive to foreign experts nor was it “utterly dismissive" of Ethiopia's cultural and intellectual tradition. 

The Commission (again, for these writers) was not colonialist in its thinking. Its members didn't see legal modernization as a “complete” break from the past, especially when it came to those provisions that would affect Ethiopian social life. 

Instead, for ፍትሐ ነገሥት experts like ዶ/ር ዲበኩሉ ዘውዴ, the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን played such an important role that their influence on the Civil Code was never in dispute: 

“ የፍትሐ ብሔር ድንጋጌዎች እንደ ኑዛዜ፣ ውርስ፣ ጋብቻ ወዘተ የፍትሐ ነገሥት ውርሶች ናቸው። ማለትም የዘመኑ የኢትዮጵያ ሕግጋት በአንድ በኩል ከሕጋዊ ትውፊት ተጽፈው ብቻ ሳይሆን በልምድ ሲያያዝ ከመጣ የተሳቡ ሕግጋት ናቸው…  እነዚህም ሕጎች (ወንጀለኛ መቅጫ ሕግ እና የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ) ከታወጁ ወዲህ ፍትሐ ነገሥት በቀጥታ የነበረውን ተፈጻሚነት ያቆማል። ቢሆንም የሕጎች ምንጭነቱ እንደተጠበቀ ነው። በርግጥ ፍትሐ ነገሥት በተወሰኑ ጉዳዮች ላይ አሁንም እንደገና ሕግ ሆኖ ሲታይ በአንድ በኩል በሌላ በኩል በተዘዋዋሪ መንገድ አሁን ላሉት የአገሪቱ ሕጎች ምንጪ ሆኖ ተጠቅሟል።”

ፍትሐ ነገሥት፡ ብሔረ ሕግ ወቀኖና

But, again, is this persuasive?  

Were these first hand accounts and expert opinions detailed enough to vindicate the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን?

No. Not really. At least not for me. 

And I'm sorry if I sound arrogant or dismissive. I just didn't find the claims being made by አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው, René David,  Jeane Graven, ማሞ ታደሰ, ዶ/ር አበራ ጀምበሬ, ዶ/ር ዲበኩሉ ዘውዴ, R. Sedler, J. Vanderlinden, and G. Krzeczunowicz to be all that convincing. 

They were neither systematic in their analysis nor thorough enough to debunk the prevailing attitude about the codification process. 

Instead, I found them to be vague, declaratory, and, at times, very contradictory.

So much so that you can find some of these same experts being cited by those that label the Commission as “native colonialists” and “አውሮፓ ናፋቂ”.

Don't believe me? Just go look at the citations in Dr. Woldeyes’ and ዳዊት’s books. 

In retrospect, Dr. Menberetsehai was absolutely right. It does take a lot to convince us that our legal system is connected to our social norms.

A lot more. 

We need more than general statements and repeated assurances about cultural fidelity. 

We need proof. 

We need the type of detailed, substantive, and line-by-line analysis that ዶ/ር አበራ ጀምበሬ thought was a better way to get to the truth: 

“ከጥንቱ የኢትዮጵያ መሠረታዊ የሕግ አሳቦችና አስተሳሰቦች መካከል የትኞቹ በዘመናዊው ሕግ ውስጥ እንደ ገቡ ፣ የትኞቹ እንዳልገቡ ለማጣራት አንደኛው ዘዴ ጥንታዊውን የኢትዮጵያ የሕግ መሠረታዊ አሳቦችና አስተሳሰቦች ጠንቅቆ አውቆ ፣ የዘመናዊዎቹን የኢትዮጵያ ሕጎች (codes) ይዘት (content) እያጠኑ ፣ የትኞቹ ኢትዮጵያዊ የሕግ መሠረታዊ አስተሳሰቦች በዘመናዊዎቹ ሕጎች ውስጥ ስፍራ እንዳገኙ መጠቆም [ነው]።”

የኢትዮጵያ ሕግና የፍትሕ አፈጻጸም ታሪክ (ከ1426 እስከ 1966 ዓ.ም.)

But instead, we have this. 

So, disappointed with what little I found, I decided to go back to that old and rusty briefcase. 

My expectations of finding something detailed and convincing were very low. But I wanted to finish what I started.

I wanted to see this project through. 

So I went back, I opened አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው’s briefcase, and I started skimming through the last thing I found with little in the way of hope. 

But my great-grandfather, the tenacious writer that he was, would surprise me one last time. 

The Last Thing I Found

“አዲሱ የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕጋችን ምንጩ ልማዳዊ ሕጋችን ነው ካልን ይህንኑ በአጭሩም ቢሆን ማሳየት አለብን።”

አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው

The last thing I found in my great-grandfather’s briefcase was a ፋይል that contained even more of his writings. 

Browned and frayed with age, this folder of his had stacks and stacks of paper in them. They were difficult to navigate at first, as they were drafts that were heavily crossed out, frequently edited, and haphazardly stacked on top of each other. 

But in due time (and a whole lot of effort), I managed to sort and catalogue what I found in each of these pages. 

And it’s when I finally finished this painstaking process that I got a better sense of what I was dealing with. You see, what I found were drafts of three different manuscripts; manuscripts that አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው was hoping to turn into a book. 

Titled “ስለ ጋብቻ”, “ስለ ውርስ”, and “ስለ ኑዛዜ”, all of these manuscripts were about the Civil Code. Yet they were very different from his usual style of writing. The claims in them were more fleshed out than his unpublished articles, their lines of reasoning more systematic than his journal entries, and their expositions more revealing than አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው’s trove of government documents and personal correspondence. 

So you can imagine my excitement. 

Yet, what was even more exciting was what I found at the very end of this remarkable ፋይል.

Although obscured by some stains, there was a small compartment along the back of this folder. And in this compartment, nestled in between his manuscripts and the back of this old ፋይል, was a book.

A slim, unassuming book that was written by አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው himself.  

Titled “ዳኝነት”, this 112-page work was also about the Civil Code. Yet it covered provisions that were completely different from what he analyzed in the three manuscripts. 

And upon reading it, I quickly realized something. I realized the importance of this ፋይል and what was stored in it. For these 4 works, “ዳኝነት”, “ስለ ጋብቻ”, “ስለ ውርስ”, and “ስለ ኑዛዜ”, were not only very detailed. They were also uniquely methodical in their analysis, especially when compared to how others have engaged with the Civil Code. Which is why, I imagine, it took አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው a long time to complete them.  

As you can see from his eulogy:

“የፍትሐ ብሔር፣ የወንጀል፣ የንግድና የባሕር ሕግጋት እንዲዘጋጁ የበኩላውቸን አስተዋጽዎ ከማድረጋውቸም በላይ… ሕግጋቱም በሥራ ላይ ከዋሉም በኋላ ለማብራሪያና ለትንተና ይረዱ ዘንድ በርከት ያሉ ጽሑፎች በመጽሔትና በጋዜጦች አበርክተዋል። እንደዚሁም ለዚህ እንዲረዳ በማለት በ1954 ዓ.ም. “ዳኝነት” የሚል መጽሐፍ ደርሰው አሳትመዋል። አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው በኢትዮጵያ ውስጥ ስለነበሩት የጋብቻ የልማድ ሕግጋትና ከዚያም ራሳቸው እንዲያብብ ላደረጉት ዘመናዊ የጋብቻ ሕግ ሰፋ ያለ ትንተና በመጽሐፍ መልክ አውጥተው ለማሳተም እስከ እለት ሞታቸው በዝግጅት ላይ ነበሩ።”

የአፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው የሕይወት ታሪክ (1892-1974)

So, what were in these four documents?  

How did አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው go about explaining the law he helped draft?

Why did he, as the Vice-President of the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን, publish an authoritative commentary on the Civil Code a mere two years after it was enacted?

And what was so important yet unresolved about this Code that he devoted another twenty years clarifying it? 

I'll let him explain: 

“የዚህ መጽሐፍ ዋና አላማው የልማዳዊ ሕጋችን ምንጭ የሆነውን የፍትሐ ነገሥትን ቃል ከፍትሐ ብሔር ሕጋችን ጋራ ለማስተያየት እና ለማገናዘብ ነው። የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕጋችንን ለመተርጎም ምንጩን ማወቅ ለሕግ ሰዎች ጠቃሚ የሚሆንበት ጊዜ ስላለ ሐሣባችንም…በልማዳዊ ሕጋችን የተፈረዱትን የቀድሞ ፍርዶችንና ምንጩ የሆነውንም ፍትሐ ነገሥትን ከፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ ጋር ለማስተያየት እና ለማነጻጸር ነው። ”

By employing this approach on those provisions that most directly affect our social lives, አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው analyzed 156 Civil Code articles and cross-examined them with 88 ፍትሐ ነገሥት dictates, 27 customary practices, and old court decisions that predated the codification process, ultimately leading him to this conclusion: 

“አዲሱ የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕጋችን ከልማዳችንና በፍትሐ ነገሥታችን ውስጥ ካለው መሠረታዊ ደንብ ሳይርቅ የተሠራ ሕግ ነው።” 

This comparative approach, he continued, didn't just show how the codification process went about honoring Ethiopia's legal tradition. 

More importantly, he believed that the results of his analysis were a testament to the Commission's state of mind. Especially when it came to those provisions of the Civil Code that regulate large areas of our lives.  

For him, the Ethiopian members of the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን didn't abandon their country’s cultural and intellectual legacy for the sake of progress. Nor did they consider modernization to be the wholesale and uncritical replication of Western laws.

Instead, it was discretion, not imitation, that won the day: 

“የንግድ ሕግ፣ የባሕር ሕግ፣ ከፍትሐ ብሔር ሕጎች አንዳንዶቹ ሁሉን የሚያገናኝ ነውና በውጭ አገር ካሉት ሕጎች ጋራ የሚስማማ ሆኖ አንድ ዓይነት ሕግ ቢሆን የሚፈለግ የሚወደድ ነገር ነው። የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ ግን እንዲህ አይደለም። የ1952 ዓ.ም. የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ በጠቅላላው በተለይም የጋብቻ፣ የውርስ፣ የኑዛዜ፣ የመሬት ነገር የሚመለከተው ሕግ ከልማዳዊ ሕጋችን ጋራ የተያያዘ ነው።”

And as someone who was intimately familiar with its inner workings, አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው backed up his claims about the culturally grounded and assertive nature of the Commission with the type of analysis that would make ዶ/ር አበራ ጀምበሬ proud. 

But you don't have to take my word for it. You can take a look for yourself by clicking here. 

Testing my Great-Grandfather

Now, I imagine these four documents may be enough to persuade some of you. 

Then again, maybe it's the totality of አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው’s writings that did the trick. 

Or maybe some of you still have doubts about my great-grandfather’s claims and the many documents he used to back them up. 

I understand.

It's neither my place nor my intention to dictate how you should view the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን.

This isn't that type of article.

But there is this one passage that I found that might interest you.  

A passage that kept coming up over and over again. 

It came up in አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው’s manuscripts, it came up in his unpublished articles, and it most certainly came up in his private journals.

A passage that went like this: 

“የቀድሞውን ልማዳዊ ሕግ ማወቅ የአሁኑን የ1952 ዓ.ም. የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕጋችንን የምንተረጉምበትን መንገድ ማወቅ ነው። ያለፉትን የምንመረምረው ታሪኩን ለማወቅ ብቻ ሳይሆን ልማዳዊ ሕጋችንንም አውቀን አዲሱ የ1952 ዓ.ም. የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕጋችንን መተርጎም ባስፈለገው ጊዜ በልማዳዊ ሕጋችን መሠረት እንድንተረጉመው ነው።”

Believing this presented a golden opportunity, I decided to do something different. 

I decided to test my great-grandfather. 

If, in fact, he believed that Ethiopia's legal tradition should influence the interpretation of the Civil Code just as much as it influenced its codification, surely there must be proof of this. 

Right?

Especially since አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው was the senior judge in both the ጠቅላይ ፍርድ ቤት and the ዙፋን ችሎት after the Code was passed. 

So, with that in mind, I started digging. 

I started looking for cases that were adjudicated by my great-grandfather and made references to either the ፍትሐ ነገሥት or some customary practice. 

This search ultimately led me to the Journal of Ethiopian Law, a respected publication that started over 60 years ago and had case reports from as far back as 1956. 

By combing through its collection of precedent-setting cases, I managed to find five Supreme Court decisions that were directly relevant to my little experiment. 

Decided between 1957 and 1959, all of these cases were adjudicated by አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው, and two other judges, and covered disputes ranging from contract law and inheritance law to claims relating to divorce, wills, and land ownership.

Reading these decisions was, to be honest, very reminiscent of what I found in my great-grandfather’s briefcase. Their analytical tone, their explanatory approach, and even how they went about comparing Civil Code articles with ፍትሐ ነገሥት dictates strongly echoed አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው’s writing style. 

But what I didn't expect was the extent to which these Supreme Court decisions based their rationale on what Dr. Woldeyes described as Ethiopia’s longstanding interpretive tradition.

Whether it was by referencing important customary practices, directly citing ፍትሐ ነገሥት dictates, or providing the Ge’ez, Amharic, and English versions of said dictates, each of these cases anchored their decisions not in a mechanical reading of the Civil Code. But in the type of culturally rooted and integrative approach that continued years after the Code was passed. 

As you can see in the following excerpts: 

1. የፍትሐ ብሔር ይግባኝ ቁጥር 1792/56: “በፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ በቁጥር 3124 የተመለከተው ከዚሁ ከልማድ ሕጋችን ጋራ የተስማማ ነው፡፡”

2. የፍትሐ ብሔር ይግባኝ ቁጥር 37/57: “በቀድሞውም ልማዳዊ ሕጋችን በአሁኑም በአዲሱ የ1952 ዓ.ም የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕጋችን…” 

3. የፍትሐ ብሔር ይግባኝ ቁጥር 629/57: “ለዚህ ምንጩ ከልማድ ሕጋችን የሆነውን የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ ቁ.1168  እንመርምር፡፡…. ይህ አዲስ ሕግ አንዳንድ ሥፍራዎችን የቆየ ልማድን የሚጠብቅ ነው፡፡”

4. የፍትሐ ብሔር ይግባኝ ቁጥር 964/57: “በፍትሐ ነገሥት በአንቀጽ 30 እንዲህ ይላል….፡፡ ይህ የልማድ ፍርዳችን ምንጭ ሆኖ ሲፈረድበት የኖረ ነው፡፡ የ1952 ዓ.ም የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ በቁጥር 1885 ከዚሁ ከቀድሞ ሕጋችን የተስማማ ነው፡፡” 

5. የፍትሐ ብሔር ይግባኝ ቁጥር 660/59: “ለዚህ ጉዳይ በ1952 ዓ.ም የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕጋችንን የተደነገገውን ከመመርመራችን በፊት የቀድሞው ሕጋችን ልማዳችን ምንድነው? በፍትሐ ነገሥታችን በጋብቻ አንቀጽ ውስጥ እንዲህ ተብሎ ተነግሯል….፡፡ የ1952 ዓ.ም ሕጋችን የቆየውን ልማዳችንን በመደንገግ… በቀድሞው ህጋችንም በአሀኑ ሕጋችንም እንደታዘዘው..”

Interestingly, for researchers like ዶ/ር ዲበኩሉ ዘውዴ, such instances of cultural fidelity in our courtrooms were neither surprising nor were they isolated incidents.

And although such decisions were not made readily available to the public, or written as explicitly as in the above five case reports, such an interpretive approach seemed to have been a common occurrence. Particularly in those courtrooms that my great-grandfather presided over: 

“እነዚህም ሕጎች (ወንጀለኛ መቅጫ ሕግ እና የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ) ከታወጁ ወዲህ…በጊዜ ሂደት ከጊዜ ማለፍ የተነሳ በተለይ በዝቅተኛ ፍርድ ቤቶች (ፍትሐ ነገሥት) እየራቀ እየሄደ ሲገኝ በከፍተኛ ፍርድ ቤት በተለይ በንጉሠ ነገሥቱ ዙፋን ችሎት ፍትሐ ነገሥት ከሌሎች ሕጎች የበለጠ ተደማጭነት ነበረው።”  

ፍትሐ ነገሥት፡ ብሔረ ሕግ ወቀኖና

At this point, there was a clear pattern that had emerged. 

One that was very hard to ignore.

Because, when read together, አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው’s journal entries, his unpublished articles, his government documents, his personal correspondences, his three manuscripts, his book, and his judicial record ultimately pointed to two important things. 

They pointed to the state of mind of those Ethiopian members of the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን before the Civil Code was passed. And, just as clearly, they pointed to the state of mind of those senior judges that were tasked with interpreting the  Code after it was passed.

And what was their state of mind? 

Well, for someone like አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው, someone who played an instrumental role in both the codification and interpretive process, his state of mind wasn't one of subservience or inferiority.

He didn't believe that modernization meant a complete break from Ethiopia’s intellectual past. Nor was it some unbridled, deeply rooted veneration for Western experts and foreign legal thought that informed his work.

Instead, it was thoughtful engagement with his country’s legal heritage that interested him. One that, if done correctly, would sidestep rigid conservatism and hasty modernization for the sake of a considered and judicious reform. 

Especially when it came to those laws that regulate large areas of our social life. 

In this respect, አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው is an indispensable source for those seeking an alternative account of how Ethiopia modernized her laws. 

For he wasn't just a senior member of the body that drafted the Civil Code. He was also a senior member of the body that was entrusted with thoughtfully implementing its key provisions.

Which is why his perspective on the Civil Code must be taken seriously. 

But what set አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው apart from his contemporaries, and those  experts who weighed in on this issue, wasn't just his title or his position in government. Instead, it was the fact that he wrote everything down. 

He wrote down his thoughts clearly.

He wrote down his memories honestly. 

He wrote down his deeply held beliefs in a way that was analytical, demonstrable, and systematic.

And, most importantly, he never shied away from doing the type of work that is the hallmark of a principled jurist: 

“ግርማዊ ንጉሰ ነገስት የሕግ አደራጅ ጉባኤ በአቋቋሙበት ጊዜ ለጉባኤው በሰጡት መሪ ቃል “የኮሚሲዮኑ መነሻው ሳያቋርጥ ከብዙ ዘመናት ጀምሮ የመጣው የኢትዮጵያ መሰረታዊ ህግና ልማድ ሊሆን ይገባል፡፡” ያሉትን በመከተል ህጎች ተሰናድተዋል፡፡ ፍርድ ቤቶችም ስለሕጉ አተረጓጎም የሚሰጡዋቸው ውሳኔዎች ከዚህ ያልራቀ እንዲሆኑ የኢትዮጵያ ብሔራዊ ሕግ እንደተቋቋመ ትርጓሜውም በዚህ ዓይነት እንዲቋቋም ማድረግ ያስፈልጋል። ስለአዲሶቹ ህጎች ከዚሁ በታች ስጽፍ ስለ ሕጎች አተረጓጎምም መጻፍን እቀጥላለሁ፡፡”

አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው

So I ask you, my dear reader, if a man like this is still seen as  a “native colonialist” and “አውሮፓ ናፋቂ”, what, then, does that make us? 

Our Living Law

Concluding a piece like this is never easy, but I'll try to do so by sharing a suspicion I have.  

I suspect, my dear reader, that some of you are getting a little inspired by my great-grandfather. 

Maybe you like his analytical and record-keeping ways.  

Maybe you feel a sudden urge to write down your own thoughts, memories, and achievements.  

Or maybe you see yourself authoring articles, manuscripts, and books sometime in the near future.

I get it. 

I get the excitement of recording your reflections and setting it aside for your children, grandchildren or great-grandchildren to find. 

But all your effort wouldn't matter if future readers don't bother to engage with either the content of your writing or the important influences that shaped your work. 

So if there's one key point I hope to clarify in this essay, it’s this: 

Glorification ≠ Respect  

There's a big difference between respecting something, or someone, and idolizing them. Simply paying lip service to አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው or our legal tradition isn't a sign of respect.

Instead, meaningful engagement is the more principled and constructive way to go. It’s our ability to take our time and seriously engage with what we say we value that leads to a better understanding of both our forefathers and our country’s traditions.

Glorifying አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው without engaging with his work, like some of my family members have, or demonizing him without engaging with his cultural influences, like some of his critics have, doesn't lead to much.

On the other hand, I've found that a thoughtful examination, one that comes with a healthy mix of skepticism, curiosity, and effort, is a lot more rewarding. 

Which is why his old and rusty briefcase was very valuable to me.

It taught me a lot about my great-grandfather. It taught me about his personal background, his life’s work, and even his analytical disposition. 

But, more importantly, it gave me a rare glimpse of the man behind the legend. And however fleeting this glimpse was, I came to better understand አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው, and his mindset, through his writings. 

In this respect, all of those aged papers, faded journals, and stained government files were a testament to the important relationship between our laws and our culture. 

It’s a relationship that Dr. Mathieu Deflem once called “institutionalized norms”, it’s what Dr. Georges Gurvitch repeatedly described as the “social reality of law”, and it's what Dr. Eugen Ehrlich so eloquently labeled as “living law”. 

At its core, this normative relationship is neither abstract nor is it incidental. Instead, it’s one that's so powerful and so pervasive that it informs the drafters of our laws just as much as it influences those who are tasked with interpreting it. 

It just so happens that, in this instance, one of the key drafters and interpreters of the Civil Code was አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው. Who, for better or worse, had a habit of writing everything down. 

And what he recorded, time and time again, was his belief that modernization meant a careful negotiation with our legal and cultural heritage. 

Not a total break from it. 

Especially when it came to those laws that, as Dr. Woldeyes put it, regulate large areas of life in Ethiopia. 

However, it's important to always remember that meaningful engagement doesn't mean blind reverence. Respect for someone’s work should never supersede our ability to critically examine it. 

Which is why most of my criticisms don't come from some peripheral reading or hasty condemnation of my great-grandfather. 

Rather, they come from my willingness to fully immerse myself in his work.

For example, I think አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው and the Codification Commission should be thoroughly criticized for exclusively focusing on the ፍትሐ ነገሥት and the customs that only stem from this legal code. For there were other, more progressive sources of customary laws that could have better served our Civil Code. 

I also think that my great-grandfather and the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን should be criticized for their categorical thinking. Especially when it came to their belief that some laws, like the Civil Code, were more closely linked to our cultural life and should therefore be more in line with our customs, while others, like the Commercial Code, were considered to be outside the reach of tradition and therefore insulated from such considerations when they were being drafted. 

This type of thinking must be challenged, for it assumes that other, more technical areas of law, such as trade and contracts, were not influenced by customary norms and  practices.

And for those of you that are more detail oriented, there's an interesting debate to be had on some of አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው’s observations. Especially when it comes to certain provisions of the Civil Code, like Article 581, and how he went about comparing them with the ፍትሐ ነገሥት. (For a more thorough discussion on this particular point, visit Gudu's Catalogue) 

But to speculate as to his state of mind and to characterize it as one that is typical of a “native colonialist” or “አውሮፓ ናፋቂ” is not just wrong. 

It’s counterproductive. 

It blinds us from the fact that there’s a very real and very complex relationship between our laws and our culture. 

It prevents us from fully appreciating how deep rooted cultural beliefs influenced the work of the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን just as much as it influenced the worldview of its senior members. 

It keeps us from recognizing how our living laws continue to inform the beliefs and actions of both our lawmakers and our judges. 

It denies us the ability to properly trace, situate, and assess how normative traditions are used to justify repressive laws.

And, most importantly, it robs us of the opportunity to mount a serious and meaningful challenge against such laws. 

So, for those of you that have read this far, I thank you for your interest. 

I thank you for your curiosity. 

And I kindly ask that you explore our Tables of References for a more detailed account of what my great-grandfather wrote. 

There's a lot there that will interest you. 

But for those of you that still think I’m being too accommodating of my great-grandfather and his work, I humbly ask for your patience. 

For our next piece on አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው will not disappoint you. 

For More on the Resources Used for This Work, Visit Gudu’s Catalogue by Clicking Here.