Four years after the Pretoria Peace Agreement was meant to close the chapter on one of Africa's deadliest recent wars, Ethiopia finds itself at the threshold of renewed conflict — this time with a more complex cast of adversaries. Former enemies have set aside their differences to form an unlikely coalition against Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed's federal government, a development born not from shared vision but from shared grievance. The peace that followed 2022 was never truly peace; it was a pause that excluded too many voices and addressed too few wounds, leaving the underlying tensions to quie
Ethiopia's Fragile Peace Collapses as Former Enemies Unite Against Federal Government
Words and practice are very contradictory
Why did the 2022 peace deal fall apart so quickly? It seemed like a genuine breakthrough at the time.
It wasn't actually quick—it took four years. But the agreement had a fundamental flaw: it left out the people who had actually been fighting. Eritrea wasn't addressed. The Amhara militias weren't included in negotiations. And some in the TPLF never accepted it as a real peace.
So when you say Eritrea wasn't addressed, what does that mean exactly? They signed the agreement, right?
No, they didn't. Eritrea fought alongside Ethiopia against the TPLF, but the agreement didn't deal with Eritrea's role or interests. That's a massive gap.
And now Eritrea is supporting the rebels?
Reportedly, yes. Not officially part of the alliance, but providing support. It's a complete reversal from the previous war.
Do we know what changed Eritrea's calculation? Is it documented, or is this based on assessment?
It's based on assessment from analysts. The exact reasoning isn't spelled out in public statements.
What about the Fano—the Amhara militias? Why did they turn against the government?
They felt excluded from the peace process and then the government tried to forcibly disarm them instead of negotiating with them. It was a failure of political management.
But the government presumably had reasons for wanting to disarm militias. That's not inherently unreasonable.
True, but the way it was done—without addressing the underlying grievances—just deepened the resentment. The government had leverage to negotiate and didn't use it.
How stable is this new alliance of former enemies?
Very unstable. These groups have almost nothing in common except opposition to Abiy. Analysts expect cracks to appear eventually.
But for now they're coordinated enough to pose a serious threat?
Yes. The level of coordination is described as significant and alarming for the federal government.
Il Polso
- Groups that spent years fighting each other — including the Oromo Liberation Army, Ogaden factions, and Afar militants — have united against the federal government in an alliance that analysts call both significant and historically improbable.
- Eritrea, which once fought alongside Addis Ababa, appears to have quietly switched sides, adding a destabilizing regional dimension that the 2022 Pretoria agreement never anticipated and never addressed.
- The collapse traces back to a flawed peace: Eritrea, the Amhara Fano militias, and TPLF hardliners were all excluded from negotiations, and the government's subsequent push to forcibly disarm the Fano transformed simmering resentment into open rebellion.
- International engagement has faded since 2022 — sanctions were lifted, attention drifted — allowing both sides to rearm in the quiet, and the UN's new mediation effort faces deep skepticism about whether any outside actor can broker a durable settlement.
- Civilians who never recovered from the last war are being displaced again, with reports of drone strikes on residential areas, military use of schools and clinics, and communications blackouts spreading across Tigray and Amhara.
Four years after the Pretoria Peace Agreement was meant to close the chapter on one of Africa's deadliest recent wars, Ethiopia finds itself at the threshold of renewed conflict — this time with a more complex cast of adversaries. Former enemies have set aside their differences to form an unlikely coalition against Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed's federal government, a development born not from shared vision but from shared grievance. The peace that followed 2022 was never truly peace; it was a pause that excluded too many voices and addressed too few wounds, leaving the underlying tensions to quietly deepen while the world's attention moved elsewhere.
Four years after a peace agreement was supposed to end one of Africa's deadliest recent wars, Ethiopia is sliding back into armed conflict — and this time, the configuration of adversaries makes resolution harder to imagine. In the weeks before fighting resumed in the north, groups that had long been enemies announced a coalition against Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed's federal government. The alliance spans the Oromo Liberation Army, Ogaden National Liberation Front factions, armed groups from Benishangul-Gumuz, and Afar militants. More startling still, Eritrea — which had fought alongside the federal government in the previous war — appears to have quietly shifted allegiances and is now supporting the rebels.
The roots of this collapse lie in the 2022 Pretoria Peace Agreement itself. The deal ended the Tigray conflict officially, but it left three critical actors out of the room: Eritrea's wartime role was never addressed in the final text; the Amhara Fano militias felt entirely sidelined; and TPLF hardliners experienced the agreement not as peace but as defeat. When the federal government later moved to forcibly disarm the Fano rather than engage their grievances, it transformed resentment into rebellion. The attempt to impose order without achieving reconciliation proved to be the agreement's fatal flaw.
What makes the current alliance so striking is its improbability. These groups share little beyond opposition to Abiy's government — their ethnic constituencies, territorial interests, and long-term agendas diverge sharply. Analysts note that such coalitions are inherently fragile, and the fighting is expected to remain concentrated in northern regions along the Tigray, Amhara, and Afar borders rather than spreading nationwide. But the level of coordination observed so far has alarmed observers who hoped fragmentation would limit the conflict's reach.
The international community bears some responsibility for the conditions that allowed this collapse. After 2022, global attention shifted to other crises. The United States lifted sanctions, removing one of the few remaining levers of pressure. What had looked like a ceasefire was, in retrospect, a pause — time that both sides used to quietly rearm and recruit. The UN has dispatched a special envoy, and the African Union and regional powers are engaged, but analysts are skeptical. Meaningful negotiations, they argue, are unlikely until at least one side concludes that violence cannot deliver what it seeks.
Meanwhile, civilians are paying the price. Hundreds of thousands displaced during the 2020–2022 war never returned home, and now they are being uprooted again. Reports describe drone strikes on civilian areas, military equipment stored inside schools and clinics, and communications blackouts across affected regions. All parties have issued assurances of civilian protection. The reality on the ground suggests those assurances mean very little.
Four years after a peace agreement was supposed to end one of Africa's deadliest recent wars, Ethiopia is sliding back into armed conflict—but this time with a twist that makes the situation harder to resolve. In the weeks before fighting resumed in the north, groups that had spent years killing each other announced they were joining forces against Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed's federal government. The alliance includes the Oromo Liberation Army, factions of the Ogaden National Liberation Front, armed groups from the Benishangul-Gumuz region, and ethnic militias from Afar. Even Eritrea, which had fought alongside the federal government in the previous war, appears to have shifted sides and is now quietly supporting the rebels. What makes this moment so precarious is that the 2022 Pretoria Peace Agreement, which officially ended the Tigray conflict after two years of fighting that killed hundreds of thousands, left crucial actors out of the room.
The agreement ignored three critical players. Eritrea's role in the war was never addressed in the final text, even though Eritrean troops had fought alongside Ethiopian federal forces. The Amhara militias known as Fano, who had been instrumental in the fighting, felt completely sidelined when negotiations concluded without them. And hardliners within the Tigray People's Liberation Front viewed the peace deal as a military defeat rather than a genuine settlement. When the federal government later moved to forcibly disarm the Fano instead of addressing their underlying grievances, tensions that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted. The government's approach—trying to impose disarmament rather than negotiate—only deepened the resentment among groups that felt they had been excluded from the peace process and then punished for it.
What is striking about the current alliance is how unlikely it is. These groups represent different ethnic constituencies and have little in common beyond their opposition to Abiy's government. The Oromo Liberation Army, the Ogaden factions, the Benishangul-Gumuz groups, and the Afar militants all have separate agendas and separate bases of support. Analysts describe the level of coordination among them as significant and alarming, but they also note that such coalitions are inherently fragile. How long the alliance holds together remains uncertain, particularly given that each group is ultimately fighting for its own interests. The fighting itself is expected to remain concentrated in Ethiopia's northern regions—particularly along the borders between Tigray, Amhara, and Afar—rather than spreading across the entire country. The rough terrain and the fragmentation of opposition groups elsewhere make nationwide coordination unlikely.
The international community's withdrawal of attention after 2022 created the conditions for this collapse. The Pretoria agreement did show early signs of working: the TPLF surrendered heavy weapons in 2022 and 2023, and there was genuine implementation of key provisions. But as global attention shifted to other crises, both sides quietly began rearming and recruiting new fighters. The United States lifted sanctions that had been imposed during the 2020-2022 war, removing one of the few remaining levers the West had to pressure combatants back to the negotiating table. What looked like a ceasefire was really a pause—a stopgap measure that allowed the underlying tensions to fester while the international community looked away.
Civilians are paying the price. Hundreds of thousands of people who were displaced during the 2020-2022 war never returned to their homes. They remain in makeshift camps for internally displaced persons, and now they are being displaced again as fighting resumes. There have been reports of drone strikes hitting civilian areas and of rebel groups positioning military equipment inside schools and clinics. Telephone and internet connections have been cut in parts of Tigray and Amhara. Electricity has been disrupted. Flights to cities including Kombolcha and Lalibela have been suspended. All parties have issued official assurances that they will protect civilians, but the reality on the ground tells a different story.
Prospects for negotiated settlement appear dim. The UN Secretary-General dispatched a special envoy to mediate, working with the African Union, regional powers, and Egypt—many of the same actors who brokered the Pretoria agreement. But analysts are skeptical that international or regional mediation can resolve the current fighting. Meaningful negotiations are unlikely until at least one side comes to understand that violence will not achieve its goals. In the absence of that realization, experts predict intense but geographically contained fighting will continue for the foreseeable future. Ethiopia's most complex contemporary armed conflict is not one that outsiders are likely to solve.
Citazioni salienti
Instead of convincing the other side, it went on to aggravate the grievances they already had— Negash Mohammed, DW journalist, on the federal government's approach to disarming militias
It was more of a stopgap or a ceasefire, but people were quietly rearming in the background— Patricia Rodrigues, Control Risks analyst, on the failure of sustained international engagement after 2022