Ethiopia and Eritrea's Endless Struggle
There are rivalries born from distance, and rivalries born from closeness. Nearly three decades of Ethiopia-Eritrea feuding —barring the brief, destructive interregnum in Tigray —is borne of the latter. The depth of the socio-cultural linkages between modern-day Ethiopia and Eritrea dates back centuries, with the shared highlands part of the sophisticated Axumite kingdom that stretched into the Arabian Peninsula. But as ever, the tyranny of geography is a blessing and a curse, and the friction between Ethiopia and Eritrea has long been underpinned by a persistent failure to define their relationship at four key junctures; post-independence, post-2000 war, post-reconciliation in 2018, and post-Pretoria.
First, it is worth addressing the latest reworking of their corroded ties by Ethiopian PM Abiy Ahmed in parliament, who wrongly attributed the relationship breakdown to the atrocities committed by Eritrea during the Tigray war, citing massacres in Shire, Axum, and Adigrat. Whitewashing the crimes of the Ethiopian military, Abiy even asserted that his officials had been dispatched to plead with Asmara over their conduct. Few are buying such blatant revisionist histories; the Eritreans worked hand in glove with the Ethiopians, including in Axum, where Addis's forces failed to intervene as the Eritrean military went house by house, killing indiscriminately. Not only that, but Abiy's latest claim drew an immediate rebuttal from former Foreign Minister Gedo Andargachew, whom the PM claimed had been repeatedly dispatched to Asmara to protest Eritrean military conduct. Andargachew, however, contended that his mission to Eritrea in January 2021 was to congratulate—not object to-- Asmara's behaviour. Eritrean Information Minister Yemane Gebremeskel further dismissed Abiy's claims as deliberate falsehoods intended to rationalise future war.
But taking the longer view of Eritrean-Ethiopian relations, today's mutual discord has broadly defined relations since Eritrea's independence in 1993. During the long attritional war with the Derg regime, though the twin Eritrean and Tigrayan resistances to the Addis regime shared a Marxist ideology, as well as strategic operations, there were points of contention. Most famously in 1985, the Eritrean People's Liberation Front (EPLF) severed the supply lines of their Tigrayan partners to Sudan at the height of a raging famine. Still, when the Derg collapsed in 1991, both fronts took power, and for a brief moment, it appeared that two ideologically aligned governments might inaugurate a new regional order. But it was not to be.
The subsequent 1993 independence referendum, which overwhelmingly affirmed the Eritrean people's wish for freedom, marked the pinnacle of their bilateral relations, even if Abiy and others seek to deny its legality today. The new border was flung open, with Asmara still using the Ethiopian birr as its currency, as the Eritrean port of Assab hummed with imports for its southern neighbour. But a failure to capitalise on the bonhomie would prove its undoing, as well as the autocratic turn of the Eritrean regime. Indeed, both regimes emerged from tightly controlled liberation movements, not pluralistic civic orders, with decision-making highly centralised and personalised, and institutions weak or deliberately sidelined. At every moment when technical, rules-based, bureaucratic cooperation was required, both sides defaulted instead to leader-driven politics; a style ill-suited to managing sovereignty between former comrades.
In particular, no formal demarcation of the border took place, even though colonial maps were inconsistent and villages-- such as famously Badme-- existed in a liminal space of administration. And as the 1990s drew to a close, relations soured further, including over Eritrea's introduction of the Nakfa in 1997 and port fees. And the subsequent year, a clash over Badme spilt over into a vast, futile war that lasted two years, leading to tens of thousands killed.
Though the Algiers Agreement, signed in December 2000, may have ended active hostilities, it did little to resolve the root causes of the conflict and lacked crucial political buy-in. Persistent calls for clarification on the amendment to the vague and fraught Pretoria agreement from 2022 have distinct echoes of the 2000s as well. The Eritrea-Ethiopia Boundary Commission, tasked with issuing a "final and binding" ruling, floundered after issuing a 2002 ruling that Badme belonged to Asmara. And though Ethiopia nominally accepted the ruling, it continued to call for dialogue on several issues to stall implementation, while both parties sought to undermine the agreement's limited provisions.
Post-war, Meles Zenawi's government subsequently sought to systematically —and effectively —constrain Eritrean influence in the region in the 2000s, leveraging its status as the regional hegemon. An embittered Asmara, on the other hand, was no doubt the 'spoiler' of the Horn, warring with Djibouti, with Sudan, instigating instability in Ethiopia, and even supporting Al-Shabaab in Somalia. Indefinite national service and a siege mentality reigned, with Asmara brutally repressing any glimmer of opposition or freedoms at home.
The third 'failure' of bilateral clarification came in 2018, with the sudden rise of Abiy to the tiller in Addis and the subsequent Gulf-brokered 'peace' bringing the young leader hand in hand with the despot in Asmara. Early signs of trust-building, including the resumption of flights and a brief reopening of the border, sparked a flurry of unearned optimism, earning Abiy a Nobel Peace Prize-- and notably not his Eritrean counterpart. But the performative politics soon run aground, with any attempts to institutionalise these apparent linkages failing. And yet the rapprochement was never truly about normalising Eritrean-Ethiopian relations, but rather about reorganising regional power. The wily Isaias, in particular, wielded the agreement to escape isolation and neutralise his friends-turned-foes in Mekelle, while Abiy sought to reshape Ethiopia's internal balance of power. The cost of the normalisation was steep-- hundreds of thousands of Tigrayan lives in the 2020-2022 war, with a litany of atrocities carried out by Eritrean and Ethiopian forces. Despite the revisionist histories being propagated by apologists for either regime, the Ethiopian and Eritrean armies are both culpable for the host of war crimes and crimes against humanity committed in Tigray.
The fourth is the Pretoria agreement. Eritrea was not a signatory to the rushed, patchy accord signed in November 2022 that ended the hostilities of the Tigray war, but it has been Addis that has systematically sought to undermine the fragile cessation of hostilities agreement. The failure of the accord to bring in all parties, and to begin working towards a shared political understanding of the war itself, is now unravelling across multiple theatres. It has accentuated the conflict in Amhara, where the Eritrean-backed Fano insurgency continues to rage, while the situation in Tigray-- as well as between Addis and Asmara-- teeters back on the edge of full-blown conflict. Another diplomatic tit-for-tat concerns Addis accusing Eritrea of maintaining forces in Ethiopia, a claim categorically denied by Asmara in recent days.
The nature of the politics of Asmara and Addis today hardly lends itself to a structural, formalised relationship. The first remains dominated by a cabal of ageing People's Front for Democracy and Justice (PFDJ) members, with the militarised shell-state itself wholly under their control. Ethiopia, on the other hand, has degenerated into a vying court for Abiy's attention, with the corruption of the Ethiopian People's Revolutionary Democratic Front-era giving way to cannibalistic proportions. Neither leader appears much inclined towards a bureaucratic form of governance, nor durable foreign relations-- an issue further accentuated by the particularly accentuated rivalrous politics of the Gulf at this moment. This might allow another sudden coming-together over Red Sea access, perhaps brokered by one of their Gulf patrons again, but it is highly doubtful that it can be stable. And so each moment of peace has carried within it the seeds of the next rupture — a rivalry born of closeness unmanaged.
The Ethiopian Cable Team
Gain unlimited access to all our Editorials. Unlock Full Access to Our Expert Editorials — Trusted Insights, Unlimited Reading.
Create your Sahan account LoginUnlock lifetime access to all our Premium editorial content
Six general elections in Ethiopia have been held since the Ethiopian People's Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) implemented its ethnic-federal system in 1995. Each has delivered victory to the incumbent government of the day — including, most recently, the deeply discredited 2021 polls held in the shadow of the Tigray war. Once again, with Ethiopia's 7th elections — scheduled for 1 June 2026 — fast approaching, few anticipate anything other than a coronation in a country mired in raging insurgencies, state contraction, and the threat of broader inter-state conflict.
The Horn of Africa's political fate has always been wired to external commercial interests, with its expansive eastern edge on the Red Sea serving as an aorta of trade for millennia. A Greek merchant's manual from the 1st century AD describes the port of Obone in modern-day Puntland as a hub of ivory, tortoiseshell, enslaved people and cinnamon destined for Egypt. Today, as so often quoted, between 12-15% of the world's seaborne trade passes along the arterial waterway, with the Suez Canal bridging Europe and Asia. But well before the globalised world or the vying Gulf and Middle Powers over the Red Sea's littoral administrations, the logic of 'gunboat diplomacy' underpinned the passage over these seas.
Almost exactly 130 years ago, a vast Ethiopian army led by Emperor Menelik II outmanoeuvred and overran the invading Italian army at Adwa in Tigray, bringing the first Italo-Ethiopian war to a decisive close. By midday on 1 March 1896, thousands of Italian soldiers and Eritrean 'askaris' had been killed, sparing Ethiopia from the carving up of the African continent by European colonisers.
The first known reference to the Tekezé River is an inscription that describes the Axumite King Ezana boasting of a triumph on its banks near the "ford of Kemalke" in the 4th century AD. Emerging in the Ethiopian highlands near Mount Qachen in the Amhara region, the major rivers' tributaries flow north and west, forming part of the westernmost border between Eritrea and Ethiopia.
Mogadishu, Somalia’s capital, is home to an estimated four million people and supports a vibrant commercial sector. Yet behind the façade of what appears to be an up-and-coming African capital is the specter of insurgents hiding in plain sight. Although Somalia’s government has had a run of success in the fight against Al-Shabaab over the past year, Mogadishu’s security is highly questionable, as the city’s suburbs have become a safe haven and base of operations for militants. Al-Shabaab is not the only problem. The crisis is deeper. Somalia’s security institutions remain disorganized and corrupt, and Mogadishu’s robust business community is often an accomplice to Al-Shabaab funding.
Where to begin? The Middle East aflame, the Iranian Ayatollah Ali Khamenei killed by an Israeli airstrike, a slew of Gulf capitals and infrastructure under Iranian bombardment, and a war instigated by two powers with no clear end or scope. Few could say they were surprised by the coordinated Israeli-American bombardment of Iran, but the immediacy of its metastasis has been shocking, and the spillover of this war is already stretching from Cyprus down to the Strait of Hormuz. And there are almost too many unknowns to count, from the endgame logic of Washington to the vulnerability of the wounded Iranian regime to the broader reaction of the besieged Gulf.
In the small coastal town of Zeila in Somaliland, the ruins of one of the oldest and finest mosques in the Horn of Africa remain. Years of neglect have taken their toll, with many of the stones that once held up the Masjid al-Qiblatayn —dating back to the 7th century —now integrated into the surrounding houses. But a striking minaret still stands askew, as does an arch with two square windows and a handful of columns. Its name 'al-Qiblatayn' translates as 'of the two Qiblahs', while the mosque once housed two mihrabs as well —one facing Mecca and another facing Jerusalem.
Earlier this month, dozens of heads of state and government gathered in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, for the 39th Ordinary Session of the Assembly of the African Union (AU). The theme of this summit prioritised water security and sanitation, discussing various ways to address these issues amid the unrelenting climate crisis. A worthy subject, no doubt, but the geopolitical backdrop of the summit remains unremittingly grim. Taking place in Addis —amid war looking ever more likely in Tigray —the gathering of leaders again served to uncomfortably emphasise the decline of the AU.
Every four years, Somalia approaches a familiar crossroads. An election nears, deadlines tighten, mandates expire, tensions rise, and once again the nation waits for crisis to decide what leadership could have resolved through foresight and compromise.