On June 1, Ethiopia heads to the polls in an election widely expected to cement Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s grip on power. But in the country’s second-most populous region, where an armed insurgency continues to simmer, voting will unfold in a climate of fear, coercion and deepening disillusionment.

French daily Libération dispatched special correspondent Marco Simoncelli to Lalibela and other parts of the Amhara region for this report, published in the newspaper’s May 27 print edition.

In Lalibela, in Ethiopia’s Amhara region in the northern highlands, dirt roads are being transformed, with sidewalks, roundabouts and stretches of asphalt appearing along the main thoroughfares. Normally a quiet, spiritual town, this UNESCO-listed city—renowned for its 13th-century rock-hewn churches—has recently seen unusual activity in its centre.

As elsewhere in the country, the federal government is extending its urban-renewal programme to the town as well—the “Corridor Project”, led by Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed and his Prosperity Party (PP). Officially presented as an effort to modernise Ethiopia and improve its international image, it is also intended to showcase visible progress ahead of the June 1 general election.More than 50 million Ethiopians are expected to vote in a contest whose outcome appears largely settled in advance, with Mr Abiy’s PP the clear frontrunner. His first term in office was marked by early gestures of political opening and a rapprochement with neighbouring Eritrea—long a sworn adversary—that earned him the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize. In recent years, however, human rights groups have increasingly characterised his leadership as taking a more authoritarian turn.The vote will renew the House of People’s Representatives (547 members), from which the head of government is drawn, as well as a second chamber made up of representatives of the regional states.

In Ethiopia’s ethnically based federal system, Amhara—the country’s second most populous region—holds 137 seats.

But in a country of 120 million people, roughly twice the size of France, the organisation of the vote runs up against deep security and political fault lines. No elections will be held in Tigray, while armed clashes are feared in key regions such as Amhara and parts of Oromia.

Seated on a bench and surrounded by other elderly men, Abebe, in his sixties, watches the passing street and ongoing works. “I will vote. I already have my voter card and I know who I will vote for,” he says. The others around him nod in agreement. “The young people don’t understand that it is the only chance we have.”

A few streets away, in a small barbershop, the mood is entirely different. Tesfaye, 33, is trimming a client’s beard. He does not plan to vote. “Do you see any campaign posters around here?” he asks. “Those who will vote are mainly public-sector employees or people dependent on the government, like the elderly who receive assistance.”He recalls helping organise the 2021 election as a volunteer in rural villages. “There was at least a campaign, opposition parties. This time, there is nothing.”

In the Amhara region, voting is expected to be largely confined to urban centres. Insecurity is preventing the organisation of the poll in many rural areas and, according to the optimistic assessment of Ethiopia’s National Election Board (NEBE), it is unlikely to take place in at least around 30 constituencies.

Since 2023, Amhara nationalist militias known as the Fano have taken up arms against the federal government, plunging the region into a protracted, asymmetrical conflict. According to the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED), more than 1,600 attacks have been recorded this year, resulting in over 4,800 deaths, a level of violence that has triggered mass displacement and further strained an already overstretched health system.At dawn, as we leave Lalibela on a small motorised Bajaj tricycle, the war suddenly intrudes. A few kilometres outside the town, armed volunteers board an emergency vehicle before disappearing on foot. Further along the road, a federal army truck is blocking the way. Soldiers dismount with their weapons drawn. Gunfire erupts behind a hill near the village of Tulala, as they attempt to push back the Fano. Herders, passers-by and travellers drop to the ground, terrified, even though the fighting is still far away. After a few minutes, the soldiers give the order to move on in an effort to clear the area. Gunshots continue to echo in the distance. Here, this kind of guerrilla skirmish has become commonplace. Despite recent advances by the ENDF around urban areas, control over rural zones remains fragile, or even non-existent.Born as local militias presenting themselves as defenders of the Amhara community, the Fano fought alongside the federal army during the Tigray war (2020-2022). Their exclusion from the peace negotiations, combined with territorial tensions and the government’s attempt to disarm them, marked a rupture. About forty kilometres south-west of Lalibela, the village of Gelesot is under Fano control. It is market day; among the crowd, armed men keep watch. Getu, 26, originally from Lalibela, with tightly curled hair, carries a Kalashnikov slung over his shoulder and wears two Orthodox crosses around his neck. He joined the rebellion after working as a truck driver’s assistant. “I’ve seen other regions; they are more developed. They neglect us to weaken our people,” he says. “We want a change of government.”He says the negotiations failed “because of a lack of respect” and warns: “We will do everything to prevent the vote. We do not recognise these authorities.”In March, the Fano reportedly threatened to target the electoral process on their Telegram channel, as well as those participating in it, describing them as accomplices.

Further east, along the return route, lies the village of Shulit, in an unstable area where control regularly shifts between opposing forces. Abebeok, a 40-year-old farmer and father of four, gathers thorny shrubs and brambles to build a fence. He says he is struggling to make ends meet, hampered by a shortage of fertiliser and rising prices. Authorities visited the area a few weeks ago, promising to distribute voter cards and urging residents to take part in the election. He is not opposed to voting, but he still has not received anything.“The Fano have threatened us. If we vote, they will take our animals… it could be even worse.” Caught between two forces, he shrugs: “We want peace, but here we are in the middle of the fire.”

In Gondar, the former imperial capital located about 180 kilometres south-west of Lalibela, the castles of the ancient emperors still dominate the city skyline. But in the streets, the election campaign is barely visible.

Zenawork Tadel, a candidate for the opposition party Ethiopian Citizens for Social Justice (Ezema), is going door to door, handing out a few leaflets. “This is all we can afford,” he admits. “Unlike previous elections, we have received no funding, and the campaign started too late.”

Despite his outward confidence, he acknowledges the constraints on the ground. “We are participating, even though we fear reprisals from the Fano,” he continues, referring to a population worn down by hardship, closed schools and hospitals without medicines. “This group had the support of the population a few years ago. Today, the situation has changed.”

Leaving the town towards the northern mountains, the landscape becomes increasingly rugged. At more than 2,500 metres above sea level, villages cling to the ridgelines. In the Kossoye area, two settlements face each other across a canyon: one under government control, the other held by militias.

Moges, 30, recently married, is part of what he calls a “regional peacekeeping force”, a local militia supporting federal troops. He points to the opposite slope: ““Over there, it’s the rebels.”

Why did he join? “They give you nothing. If you die, it’s over. Here, at least, I can leave something to my wife.”

In December, the federal army, supported by militiamen like him, attempted…