For generations, the Horn of Africa has been defined by resilience, revolution, and relentless rivalry. At the heart of this complex region lies a decades-long standoff, a deeply rooted conflict between Ethiopia and Eritrea – a struggle that continues to shape the fate of the Red Sea corridor and impact the lives of over 160 million people.
The story began after World War II, with a United Nations attempt to federate Eritrea with Ethiopia, intending to grant Eritrea eventual independence. But in 1962, Emperor Haile Selassie annexed Eritrea, igniting a thirty-year war for liberation. The Eritrean People’s Liberation Front, led by Isaias Afwerki, fought alongside Ethiopia’s Tigray People’s Liberation Front against a common enemy, ultimately achieving de facto independence in 1991.
A 1993 UN-supervised referendum overwhelmingly confirmed Eritrea’s sovereignty – 99.8% voted in favor. For a brief moment, peace seemed possible. Shared ethnicities, languages, and trade routes hinted at a harmonious future. Yet, beneath the surface, simmering border disputes and national pride threatened to erupt.
That eruption came in 1998, sparked by a clash over the dusty border town of Badme. What began as a local skirmish quickly escalated into one of Africa’s deadliest interstate wars, claiming over 70,000 lives in just two years. Accusations flew – Eritrea claimed Ethiopian incursion, Ethiopia countered with claims of invasion – and both nations launched brutal offensives.
The Algiers Agreement in 2000, brokered by international powers, offered a path to peace. A Boundary Commission was established to demarcate the disputed border, and in 2002, it ruled that Badme belonged to Eritrea. But Ethiopia refused to comply, citing local populations. This impasse plunged both nations into a two-decade “no war, no peace” stalemate, marked by heavily militarized borders and fractured families.
A turning point arrived in 2018 with the rise of Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed in Ethiopia. He made the historic decision to fully honor the boundary ruling, traveling to Asmara to meet President Isaias Afwerki. The world watched as former enemies embraced, borders reopened, and a Joint Declaration of Peace and Friendship was signed. Abiy’s bold move earned him the Nobel Peace Prize.
However, this peace proved fragile, built more on political expediency than genuine reconciliation. As Abiy himself noted, the newfound interaction – “seeing and touching each other” – was a crucial first step. But the volatile dynamics of the Horn of Africa meant rivalry could easily resurface.
That resurgence came with the outbreak of Ethiopia’s civil war in 2020. In a stunning reversal, the former foes became allies, with Ethiopian and Eritrean forces fighting together against the Tigray People’s Liberation Front. Eritrea saw this as retribution, while Ethiopia viewed it as a strategic necessity. The alliance, however, came at a horrific human cost.
Reports emerged of mass killings, systematic rape, and widespread looting. The United Nations and Amnesty International accused both Eritrean and Ethiopian soldiers of war crimes, describing the conflict as one of the worst humanitarian crises of our time. By 2022, an estimated 600,000 people had perished in Tigray, victims of fighting and famine.
As the Tigray war subsided, Abiy Ahmed turned his attention to Ethiopia’s long-held desire for access to the Red Sea. Landlocked since Eritrea’s independence, Ethiopia relies heavily on Djibouti for maritime trade, paying roughly $1.5 billion annually in port fees. In 2023, Abiy declared that Ethiopia’s future depended on securing “sovereign access to the sea,” a statement that deeply alarmed Asmara.
Eritrea perceived this as an existential threat, fearing renewed aggression over its vital port of Assab. Ethiopia’s revival of its navy and construction of military infrastructure near the border further fueled these concerns. Abiy argued that a nation of 120 million people could not remain landlocked indefinitely, but Eritrea remained resolute: its sovereignty was non-negotiable.
The United Arab Emirates has played a complex role, initially facilitating the 2018 peace deal, but later shifting to become a military supplier to Ethiopia during the Tigray war. Utilizing its base in Assab, the UAE provided armed drones, surveillance, and training, exacerbating Eritrea’s mistrust. While the UAE has since adjusted its investments, its actions have contributed to the militarization of the Red Sea.
Today, Ethiopia and Eritrea stand on the brink once more. Ethiopia’s pursuit of sea access clashes with Eritrea’s determination to protect its sovereignty. Mutual distrust, fueled by past betrayals and shifting regional alliances, continues to fester. Domestic pressures within Ethiopia, including unrest and economic challenges, add further complexity.
The conflict has left deep scars. Both Ethiopia and Eritrea maintain some of the world’s highest rates of conscription, with Eritrea’s indefinite national service driving thousands to flee. Northern Ethiopia’s border communities remain displaced, hungry, and traumatized. Families separated by the 1998 war still live divided by fences and political barriers.
Ultimately, the Ethiopia-Eritrea conflict is not simply about land; it’s a struggle for identity, sovereignty, and survival. Both nations see themselves as inheritors of proud histories – Ethiopia as Africa’s uncolonized empire, and Eritrea as the continent’s bastion of resistance. If a lasting peace is to be achieved, it requires more than just negotiation; it demands a shared vision for the future, one where courage to share outweighs the desire to control.
The stakes are immense. Failure to resolve the Red Sea dispute could ignite a new phase of war, destabilizing East Africa and jeopardizing vital trade routes. Regional bodies must urgently prioritize dialogue, learning from past successes while adapting to the new realities of port economics, migration, and the growing influence of external powers. The future of the Horn of Africa, and perhaps the Red Sea itself, hangs in the balance.
