Menelik II and the Devil’s Device: A Tale of Innovation and Resistance

Menelik II remains one of the most beloved emperors in Ethiopian history—not only for his military triumphs, but for his groundbreaking efforts to modernize the country. He opened the door to technological advancement and enacted numerous reforms that were far ahead of his time. Yet, these efforts did not come without fierce resistance and harsh criticism, much of it from within his own circles.

Among the many innovations introduced during his reign, the arrival of the telephone stands out—not just for its novelty, but for the controversy it sparked. This seemingly magical device became a source of both awe and alarm, especially among conservative elements of society, including the clergy. The humorous yet telling confrontations between the visionary emperor and those who opposed his modern reforms are at the heart of this story.

According to legendary Ethiopian journalist P’awlos ňo ňo in his book As’e Menelik (Emperor Menelik), and noted historian Tekle Tsadik Mekuria in As’e Menelik Ϊna yə Ityop’ia andΪnet (Emperor Menelik and the Ethiopian Unity), the first-ever landline telephone—what was then referred to as a "plain old telephone"—was installed in Menelik’s palace in 1889. Remarkably, this happened perhaps even before some European nations adopted the technology.

One might wonder, though—who was Menelik calling, since there was only one device at the time?

News of the strange invention spread fast, stirring unease and disapproval among many members of the clergy. Alarmed by what they saw as an unnatural and suspicious tool, eight senior clergymen approached the Emperor. They claimed that the telephone was the handiwork of səyt’an (Satan) and demanded it be removed from the palace and burned in public.

Menelik, controlling his irritation, listened to their plea and promised to consider their concerns, asking them to return the next day for his response. That night, he summoned his trusted nobles and the Patriarch. Frustrated, he lamented that the clergy were obstructing his vision for Ethiopia’s progress by labeling modern innovations as satanic. He went so far as to say that if this opposition continued, he might be forced to reconsider his relationship with the Orthodox Church altogether.

This statement sent shockwaves through the room. Alarmed by the possibility of losing the Emperor’s support, the nobles and Patriarch rushed to pacify him. They assured him they would restrain the clergy and urged him not to sever ties with the Church.

But the clergy were not yet done.

Another telling incident occurred two years later, when a second telephone was installed in the home of AfənΪgus Nessibu, the King’s spokesperson and Minister of Justice. One Sunday afternoon, while on a call, Nessibu experienced a minor electrical shock due to a short circuit. Word of the incident spread quickly, and the clergy seized it as proof that the device was indeed satanic. They publicly declared the telephone cursed and unfit for use by Ethiopians.

Emboldened, they forcibly removed the device and burned it in public—another act of defiance meant to halt Menelik’s modern agenda. Yet the Emperor did not yield. Instead, he pressed forward. In 1899—ten years after the first telephone was installed—he triumphantly inaugurated the Harar–Addis Ababa telephone line, Ethiopia’s first true communications network.

Fast forward to today, where mobile phones are everywhere—even eclipsing traditional landlines in urban areas like Addis Ababa. It’s easy to forget how radical such a device once seemed.

And yet, more than a century ago, Menelik dared to dream of a connected Ethiopia. His hunger for progress, his iron will, and his refusal to surrender to ignorance remain a powerful legacy. His life is a shining example that vision, when coupled with courage, will always prevail.

Ethiopians owe him more than admiration—they owe him a future built on the foundation of fearless innovation.

What brilliance. What resolve. What a gift to his nation