In mid-June, a highly choreographed show of bonhomie was organised at the Mereb Bridge in Tigray, which connects Ethiopia's northernmost region to Eritrea. Waving Eritrean and Tigrayan flags, communities seemingly came together in an attempt to display a buried hatchet at the local level, over two years on from the calamitous war that left hundreds of thousands of Tigrayans dead. These bizarre images, rather than reflecting any genuine move towards reconciliation or justice and accountability, are instead part of the deepening ties between the dominant faction within the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF) in Mekelle and Asmara. Behind the warming relations, however, are eerie similarities with the current rhetoric of Mekelle, Addis, and Asmara, and that of the months leading up to November 2020 and the outbreak of war.
On 26 April 1937, the Spanish town of Guernica was reduced to rubble by German Luftwaffe bombers. Conducted in support of Franco's nationalist troops, the bombing marked a turning point in modern warfare, where civilians were considered no longer collateral damage — they were targets. A few weeks later, Pablo Picasso transformed the event into an enduring visual outcry: Guernica, a monumental black-and-white painting that captured the agony of civilians crushed beneath impersonal, mechanised violence. Nearly a century later, under a different sky — that of northern Ethiopia — the weapons have changed. Drones now replace planes, and the devastation they inflict is quieter, remote-controlled, but no less lethal. Today, the war is waged by algorithms, and yet the bodies are still real.
The factionalism that has defined Tigray's regional politics in recent months shows no sign of easing. With Getachew Reda having been ousted as Tigray Interim Administration (TIA) president in March, his replacement—Lt. Gen. Tadesse Werede—has inherited a hornet's nest of competing interests, with Addis and Asmara both dangerously seeking to ingratiate themselves amidst the looming threat of conflict. While the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF) has successfully re-established its monopoly on the politics of Ethiopia's northernmost region, questions regarding the return of displaced persons, the resolution of the occupation of Western Tigray, and the party's participation in future elections remain unresolved-- and intensifying.
Last week, it was reported that landlocked Ethiopia-- with Russian assistance-- was nearing completion of a glittering new complex to house the country's naval headquarters. Constructed in Addis over three hectares at seemingly vast expense, the building personifies a kind of 'Potemkin Village,' the fake construct designed to mislead outsiders into believing in something more impressive than its reality. It appears set to play a central role in the ongoing ambition of the federal government to restore vaguely-worded Ethiopian 'access' to the sea, which may yet involve the invasion of Eritrea, as well as the supposed beautification of the capital.
The 'Original Sin' of the Pretoria agreement In late October 2022, Tigrayan and Ethiopian federal representatives met in Pretoria, South Africa, under the auspices of the African Union, amidst the raging Tigray war. Back-door US diplomacy in Djibouti and the Seychelles in mid-2022 had failed to produce anything of note, and brutal fighting had renewed in late August. Calculating they could no longer bear such devastating human costs—costs Addis and Asmara seemed willing to absorb—the Tigrayan delegation arrived in Pretoria ready to make peace and reluctantly accepted terms far from ideal.
Since the beginning of the year, the schism within and between the two factions of the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF) and the Tigray Interim Administration (TIA) has continued to deepen. The two groups-- led respectively by TPLF Chairman Debretsion Gebremichael and TIA President Getachew Reda-- have dug in despite multiple mediation attempts.