Will Ethiopia Wage War on Eritrea? An Interview with an Expert

By: Grace Samuel (Editor-in-Chief)

The views expressed are the author's own and do not reflect the views of the International Relations Society.

via Wikimedia Commons

At the beginning of this year, I predicted that Ethiopia would start a war with Eritrea. So I sat down with an expert...

At the start of 2026, Ethiopia felt as though it was moving through one crisis while preparing for another. The war in Tigray had formally ended, but its consequences had not. Fighting continued in Amhara and Oromia. The political settlement in Tigray remained fragile. Addis Ababa was being remade through glossy corridor developments while many residents struggled with inflation, fuel shortages, displacement, water shortages and power cuts. Above all of this sat the return of an older fear: war with Eritrea.

Ethiopia’s demand for access to the Red Sea has become one of the defining questions of Abiy Ahmed’s current rule. For a landlocked country of more than 120 million people, the economic argument for sea access is easy to understand. The danger lies in the way that argument has been folded into nationalism, military suspicion and the survival politics of a government already facing armed resistance at home.

In January, I interviewed Dr Samuel Bekalo, one of the UK's leading expert consultants on Horn of Africa geopolitics. We spoke again in June, after Ethiopia’s election and after he had recently returned from the country. His warning was direct.

“War with Eritrea is not off the table.”

From TPLF rule to Abiy’s promise

Ethiopia’s current crisis did not begin with Abiy. It grew out of a longer political history shaped by centralised power, ethnic federalism and the afterlife of authoritarian rule.

After the fall of the Derg in 1991, Ethiopia was governed by the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front, the EPRDF. The coalition was formally multi-ethnic and built around Ethiopia’s system of ethnic federalism. In theory, this system recognised the country’s diversity by granting regional self-government to communities including Oromo, Amhara, Tigrayan, Somali and other groups. In practice, power remained heavily concentrated within the ruling coalition and especially around the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, the TPLF.

The EPRDF period cannot be reduced to one story. The government expanded infrastructure, drove economic growth and built a strong developmental image. It also governed through surveillance, repression and restricted political competition. Elections were held, but meaningful opposition was limited. Civil society and media faced pressure. Many Ethiopians experienced the state as both developmental and deeply authoritarian.

By the mid-2010s, the system was breaking apart. Protests in Oromia and Amhara exposed anger over land dispossession, political exclusion and TPLF dominance. The federal structure promised autonomy, yet many people felt locked out of real power. Hailemariam Desalegn resigned in 2018 and Abiy Ahmed became prime minister.

His arrival carried extraordinary hope. Abiy released political prisoners, welcomed exiled opposition figures and promised democratic reform. His peace deal with Eritrean President Isaias Afwerki ended two decades of formal hostility and won him the Nobel Peace Prize in 2019. For a short time, Abiy appeared to offer Ethiopia a way out of the old EPRDF order.

That promise unravelled quickly. In 2019, Abiy dissolved the EPRDF and formed the Prosperity Party. His supporters saw this as a move beyond ethnic fragmentation. The TPLF refused to join, reading it as a centralising project that threatened Ethiopia’s federal settlement. Relations between Addis Ababa and Mekelle deteriorated. In 2020, after Tigray held its own regional election in defiance of the federal government’s decision to postpone national polls, the dispute became war.

The Tigray war was catastrophic. Ethiopian federal forces, Eritrean troops and allied regional forces fought the TPLF in a conflict marked by mass displacement, hunger, reports of atrocities and widespread conflict-related sexual violence. The Pretoria Agreement formally ended the war in November 2022, but it did not resolve the deeper political question at the heart of the conflict: who has the right to govern Ethiopia and on what terms?

This is the shadow hanging over Abiy’s Ethiopia. He inherited a state already shaped by authoritarian habits and unresolved ethnic grievance. Yet inheritance does not absolve leadership. In 2018, Abiy was given rare political capital. Eight years later, much of that hope has curdled into fear.

“He was given an opportunity, even a mandate, the support of the public to do this. But he did the exact opposite.”

A state fighting in too many directions

Ethiopia’s internal conflicts are often discussed separately: Tigray, Amhara, Oromia. Together, they point to something deeper than isolated regional unrest. They show a federal state unable to rebuild trust with the communities it claims to represent.

In Amhara, Fano forces have become a major challenge to federal authority. In Oromia, conflict involving the Oromo Liberation Army has continued for years. In Tigray, the peace settlement remains fragile and political tensions have not disappeared. The government continues to speak the language of national unity, but much of the country is living through conflict, military pressure or distrust.

“He is fighting with everyone, everywhere.”

That line cuts through the polished language of reform. Abiy’s early appeal rested on the promise that Ethiopia could move beyond the old politics of ethnic competition. Yet his government is now in conflict with Oromo forces, Amhara forces and Tigrayan actors. This makes it difficult to explain his politics through simple ethnic favouritism. The pattern is wider and more troubling. It looks like a governing style organised around centralisation, coercion and survival.

Abiy’s pan-Ethiopian language still appeals to many people who are tired of fragmentation. The idea of a shared Ethiopian project is not inherently authoritarian. It becomes dangerous when unity is defined from above and enforced through force. A genuine national project would require democratic participation, equal rights and meaningful power-sharing. Each new conflict makes those conditions harder to imagine.

The election and the exhaustion of politics

In June 2026, Ethiopia held an election that delivered another overwhelming victory for the Prosperity Party. Officially, the result strengthens Abiy’s mandate. Politically, it exposes how narrow the democratic space has become.

Voting did not take place in Tigray. Insecurity disrupted parts of Amhara and Oromia. Major opposition forces were absent, weakened or boycotting. Many of the groups with the strongest claims against the federal government were either outside the process or actively in conflict with it. On paper, the election produced continuity. On the ground, it took place in a fractured country.

“There is not a fair playground to even start competing.”

The most revealing part of the June follow-up was not the formal result. It was the mood. During his recent visit, Bekalo saw election campaign trucks calling on people to vote for the Prosperity Party. Many people barely seemed interested. Their attention was on food prices, rent, fuel and the difficulty of getting through daily life.

“People are really tired and fed up of everything. They don’t see any point of protesting.”

Silence should not be mistaken for consent. In exhausted societies, people may stop protesting because they support the government. They may also stop protesting because they are afraid, economically vulnerable or disappointed by every previous promise of change. Bekalo described people who feared losing social support, housing or work. He also described a deeper political fatigue, shaped by years of protest, war and betrayal.

“They don’t see the point of sacrificing their life. They are just waiting quietly for something to happen.”

That waiting is politically important. Ethiopia’s crisis is often described through the actions of leaders, parties, armed groups and foreign powers. Yet another form of politics sits beneath it: people who know something is wrong, but no longer believe they can alter it.

The dark side of the Dubaification of Addis Ababa

Abiy’s Ethiopia is also being built in concrete, glass and asphalt. Addis Ababa has become the stage for a dramatic urban transformation. Roads have been widened. Corridors have been cleared. Parks and public spaces have been redesigned. The capital is being made to look cleaner, brighter and more cosmopolitan.

The image is deliberate. Addis is being asked to perform modernity.

“Urban development should be centred on people.”

That line should be obvious, but it is often the first principle abandoned in prestige development. A neighbourhood is not only a physical location. It is childcare, trust, credit, work, memory and social protection. When people are moved quickly or inadequately compensated, the loss cannot be measured only in rent or square metres.

“Their livelihoods depend on neighbourhood support, so the human cost is really massive. It is really a tragedy.”

The problem is not development itself. Cities change. Infrastructure matters. Addis needs roads, drainage, water systems, housing and public space. The issue is what kind of development is being pursued and who is expected to absorb its costs. If the poor are displaced so that the capital can look modern, urban renewal becomes another form of dispossession.

The infrastructure beneath the new image also matters. Roads and buildings photograph well. Drainage, electricity, water supply and green space shape how people actually live. Recent flooding in Addis has exposed the weakness of drainage systems. Areas that were farmland or forest a decade ago have become concrete and barren. The city is being polished at the surface while many residents still face shortages and insecurity beneath it.

The Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam raises a similar tension between national spectacle and everyday life. The dam is a symbol of Ethiopian ambition and sovereignty. It has the potential to expand electricity access and strengthen the economy. Yet ordinary households have not necessarily felt that promise in daily life. Power cuts remain. Costs remain high. Infrastructure and corruption still shape whether electricity reaches people.

The gap between national image and ordinary life runs through much of Abiy’s project. Ethiopia is being asked to believe in greatness while many people struggle to afford survival.

“Without peace, you cannot do much.”

That may be the simplest explanation of Ethiopia’s crisis. Peace is not an abstract moral wish. It is the condition that makes development real. Without it, roads, dams, elections and speeches about national greatness become part of the scenery of crisis.

Assab and the return of the Eritrean question

Ethiopia and Eritrea have moved through several reversals in a short period. The two countries fought a brutal border war from 1998 to 2000. Abiy’s 2018 peace deal with Isaias Afwerki appeared to transform that relationship. During the Tigray war, Eritrea fought alongside Ethiopia’s federal government against the TPLF. Now the relationship has deteriorated again.

The Red Sea sits at the centre of this shift. Ethiopia lost direct access to the sea when Eritrea became independent in 1993. Since then, Ethiopian governments have depended heavily on ports in neighbouring countries, especially Djibouti. The desire for sea access is not new. The danger is the way it is now being spoken about.

Assab, an Eritrean port that once served Ethiopia, has become a symbolic flashpoint. Abiy has repeatedly spoken about Ethiopia’s need for sea access. In Eritrea, such language is heard as a threat. Many Ethiopians understand the national argument for access to the Red Sea, but the method matters.

“Everyone agrees and buys [the idea of Red Sea access], but how you do it is a different matter.”

Diplomacy, commercial agreements and regional cooperation are one path. Military pressure is another. Eritrea is a recognised sovereign state. Any attempt to seize or force control over Assab would risk a devastating war.

By June, the regional map appeared to have shifted again. Eritrea and Tigrayan actors, once bitter enemies during the Tigray war, seemed closer because of their shared hostility towards Abiy. Some Amhara actors also increasingly see the federal government as the main threat. These alignments are fluid and contested, but the broader point is hard to ignore: the old map no longer works.

“Before, it was Amhara and Eritrea against Tigray. Now it is the reverse.”

The danger does not come from Abiy having unlimited power. In fact, the limits are clear: a damaged economy, stretched military capacity and a public with little appetite for another war. The danger is that leaders under pressure do not always act cautiously. A government whose survival depends on crisis may be tempted to create one more.

“They are at a war footing. From the Ethiopian side, it depends on [whether] they have the resources or the public backing. Abiy Ahmed is reckless.”

A regional fire waiting for sparks

A war between Ethiopia and Eritrea would not remain contained. The Horn of Africa is already strained by Sudan’s war, refugee movements, Nile politics, Gulf state competition and Red Sea militarisation. Regional powers have interests in ports, food security, gold, water and influence. Any conflict between Addis Ababa and Asmara would immediately enter that wider web.

“It just adds fuel to the fire.”

That is why Ethiopia’s internal politics matter beyond its borders. Ethiopia is one of Africa’s most populous countries and a central state in the Horn. Its instability affects Eritrea, Sudan, Somalia, Djibouti, Kenya and the wider Red Sea. The country’s internal conflicts, refugee movements and port politics are already regional questions.

The international community often responds to Ethiopia through crisis management: a peace agreement here, an election statement there, a humanitarian warning after the worst has already happened. That is not enough. The pressure to avoid war with Eritrea has to be matched by serious support for an internal political settlement.

“Unless all groups in Ethiopia get together around the table and have proper dialogue, monitored by independent bodies, I don’t see a way forward.”

That is the unresolved demand at the heart of Ethiopia’s crisis. The EPRDF system closed political space while promising developmental success. Abiy arrived promising democratic renewal and national unity. His rule has instead produced a more personalised, militarised and distrustful political order.

The danger now is not only one possible war with Eritrea. It is the accumulation of unresolved crises: Tigray’s fragile peace, Amhara’s insurgency, Oromia’s violence, a contested election, economic despair, urban displacement and Red Sea brinkmanship.

Ethiopia does not need another grand promise from above. It needs a political settlement that people can live inside. Without that, roads, dams, elections and speeches about national greatness will not be enough. They will become the scenery of a country waiting for something to break.

You can find the full transcripts of the interviews here:

Interviewing Dr. Samuel Bekalo.pdf

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