The Line We Refuse to Cross

Dec 27 , 2025
By Kidist Yidnekachew

---

It started as one of those typical afternoons, the kind where you're sitting with friends, the smell of roasting coffee lingering in the air, but the conversation takes a sharp turn toward the heavy reality of living in the city today. A mutual friend had just dropped a bombshell about our neighborhood, one we always considered relatively "safe." He told us the area had changed; it wasn't just the usual petty theft anymore. Now, there were stories of organised groups using rented cars to snatch phones in broad daylight, and even more terrifying reports of children being kidnapped for ransom.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Our friend described how these robbers aren't just looking for a quick win; they're willing to hurt, or even kill, anyone who stands in their way.

Another friend sighed, leaned back, and asked a question that felt like a punch to the gut: "Why are you even surprised?"

He argued that this is the natural byproduct of an economy in freefall. To him, the math was simple. When inflation hits triple digits in spirit, if not on paper, and people can no longer afford a basic meal, the social contract breaks. When the stomach is empty, the law becomes invisible. He insisted that this lawlessness is just what happens when a society can’t keep up with the cost of living.

I listened, and while I understood his logic, I couldn't bring myself to accept it as a justification.

I have lived in Addis all my life to see the struggle. I see the elderly who spend their days begging outside the gates of churches or the young kids selling napkins in the middle of traffic. They are hungry, too. Their lives are just as precarious, yet they haven't resorted to sharpening knives or planning kidnappings. This is where my friend and I hit a wall. To me, there is a massive, moral chasm between a person who steals a loaf of bread to survive and a person who is willing to take a life for a smartphone.

If I'm being brutally honest with myself, I can imagine a world where desperation drives me to do things I'm not proud of. If it came down to pure survival, would I consider "adjusting" my ethics to keep my family fed? Perhaps. But even in my darkest hypothetical, I couldn't see myself hurting someone. I could imagine taking from a pocket, but I couldn't imagine taking a life. There is a line where "survival" ends and "cruelty" begins, and that line is drawn in blood.

My friend’s argument is essentially one of environmental determinism, the idea that if you put people in a desperate enough situation, they will inevitably become monsters. He sees the "rented car" thieves as victims of a system that failed them. But I see them as people making a choice. In Addis today, the gap between the "haves" and the "have-nots" is widening into a canyon. You see luxury electric cars driving past people who haven't eaten in two days. That imbalance creates a deep-seated resentment, I know. But we cannot use the economy as a universal "get out of jail free" card for violence.

There are people in this city, thousands of them, who would literally rather starve in silence than take something that isn't theirs, let alone hurt a neighbor. By blaming everything on inflation, we are doing a disservice to the millions of poor but honest people who maintain their dignity despite the crushing weight of the economy. When we justify crime through the lens of the economy, we are essentially saying that morality is a luxury only the rich can afford. I refuse to believe that.

What worries me most isn't just the theft; it's the erosion of our collective spirit. Addis used to be a place where unity meant something. If someone shouted for help, people ran toward the trouble, not away from it. But as the cost of living has skyrocketed, it feels like our moral values have plummeted. We are becoming more individualistic, more fearful, and more prone to looking the other way.

However, it's not all a downward spiral. There's a strange paradox in our current generation. On one hand, we are seeing this rise in crime. Yet, there is a silver lining: this generation is perhaps the most courageous yet. They possess a rare intellectual honesty, a willingness to dismantle 'facts' that no longer ring true, even at the risk of social backlash. Unlike those who came before, they refuse to be silent or follow along like sheep just to keep the peace. we see young people who are vocal, who don't back down from advocacy, and who are willing to demand a better future. They are more "woke" to the injustices of the world than our parents' generation was.

The challenge we face now is how to bridge that gap. We need to find a way to cope with these difficult times without turning on each other. Instead of using the "rented car" stories as a reason to lock our doors and hearts, we should be looking at how to strengthen our communal ties. We need to be more supportive of one another so that the person on the edge of desperation finds a helping hand before they find a weapon.

Inflation might be out of our control, but how we treat each other in the face of it is not. If we let the economy dictate our morality, then we have already lost the city. We have to draw that line, the one that says hunger is a tragedy, but violence is a choice. We have to remain human, even when the world around us feels like it's losing its humanity.

---

PUBLISHED ON Dec 27,2025 [ VOL 26 , NO 1339]

---

[ssba-buttons]