A Reckoning with Rhetoric: Responding to FM Gedion Timothewos on Ethiopia–Eritrea Relations
Introduction
Dr. Gedion Timothewos, Ethiopia’s Foreign Minister, delivered a carefully curated address at AAU Ras Mekonnen Hall on November 13th, 2025, outlining Ethiopia’s policy toward the Horn of Africa, or more specifically, towards Eritrea. His tone was measured, his language diplomatic, and his framing deliberate crafted to cast Ethiopia as a stabilizing force amid regional turbulence. Yet beneath the surface of this polished narrative lies a conspicuous omission: the deeper, more entangled realities of the Horn, and Ethiopia’s own complicity in the region’s enduring instability.
As an Eritrean who stands in principled opposition to the totalitarian regime in Asmera, I approach Dr. Gedion’s remarks with both empathy and scrutiny. Some of his assertions resonate—particularly those that acknowledge the need for regional cooperation. But others, especially his treatment of Ethiopia’s internal crises and the contentious issue of maritime access, demand a more honest reckoning.
Dr. Gedion speaks of peace, but peace cannot be brokered through selective memory or sanitized diplomacy. It demands an unflinching commitment to confront truth and reality head-on. Ethiopia’s internal fragmentation—marked by civil strife, contested federalism, and the erosion of democratic norms—cannot be divorced from its foreign policy posture. Nor can the question of access to the sea be reduced to economic pragmatism, when it evokes historical wounds, sovereign boundaries, and the specter of imperial ambition.
To gloss over these realities is not merely an oversight—it is a disservice to the peoples of the Horn, whose lives are shaped by the legacies of war, displacement, and broken promises. Genuine peace requires more than rhetorical finesse; it demands moral clarity, historical accountability, and the courage to confront uncomfortable truths.
Dr. Gedion’s speech may reflect Ethiopia’s strategic calculus, but it falls short of the candor required for transformative dialogue. If we are to envision a future rooted in mutual respect and regional dignity, we must move beyond curated narratives and toward a shared commitment to justice—one that honors the sovereignty of nations and the humanity of their citizens.
Ethiopia’s Internal Crisis: The Root of Regional Instability
One of the most conspicuous silences in Dr. Gedion Timothewos’ speech is his failure to confront Ethiopia’s own internal crisis—a crisis that lies at the very heart of the Horn of Africa’s instability. While he is quick to spotlight Eritrea’s dysfunctions, he sidesteps the uncomfortable truth that Ethiopia’s domestic unraveling is equally—if not more—responsible for the region’s volatility. I’ve argued elsewhere that what goes for Ethiopia goes for the Horn: its internal fractures reverberate far beyond its borders, shaping the fate of the entire region. The opposite is also true: when Ethiopia thrives, the region benefits.
Ethiopia today is not a cohesive state but a fractured federation teetering on the edge of implosion. The scars of the devastating war in Tigray remain fresh, with hundreds of thousands dead and millions displaced. Meanwhile, violence continues to escalate in Oromia and Amhara, where state authority has all but collapsed in many areas. Armed militias proliferate, federal forces are overstretched, and the social contract between the state and its citizens is in tatters.
Despite his Nobel Peace Prize and lofty rhetoric, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed governs more like the mayor of Addis Abeba than the leader of a unified nation. His administration’s reach rarely extends beyond the capital and a few garrison towns. The federal government’s inability to enforce law, deliver services, or mediate interethnic grievances has rendered Ethiopia a patchwork of autonomous zones, many of them governed by force rather than consent.
This erosion of central authority is not a peripheral issue—it is the core threat to Ethiopia’s future. A state that cannot guarantee internal cohesion, protect its citizens, or uphold the rule of law cannot credibly claim regional leadership. Yet Dr. Gedion’s speech projects an image of Ethiopia as a pillar of stability in the Horn, a narrative that collapses under the weight of reality.
The foreign minister’s invocation of “restraint” in the face of Eritrean provocations rings hollow when juxtaposed with the Ethiopian state’s inability to restrain violence within its own borders. What is framed as diplomatic maturity is, in truth, a deflection from the urgent need to address Ethiopia’s domestic disintegration.
If Ethiopia is to play a constructive role in the Horn of Africa, it must first confront the demons within. Regional peace cannot be brokered atop a foundation of domestic disorder. So long as Ethiopia remains mired in internal fragmentation, its calls for cooperation and stability will ring hollow—aspirational at best, dangerously misleading at worst. Before the regimes in Ethiopia and Eritrea can credibly pursue regional reconciliation or rapprochement, they must first reckon with their own citizens—especially those who have organized in principled opposition. Reconciliation begins at home.
The Myth of Ethiopia’s “Existential” Need for Access to the Sea
A central pillar of Dr. Gedion Timothewos’ recent speech is the assertion that Ethiopia’s access to the sea constitutes an “existential” imperative—essential, he argues, for the nation’s long-term prosperity and regional stature. But this reframing is not only historically misleading; it is politically hazardous. To cast maritime access as a matter of national survival risks legitimizing expansionist ambitions under the guise of economic necessity.
If sea access were truly existential, why did Ethiopia willingly jeopardize its maritime privileges during the 1998 Badme conflict? From 1991 to 1998, Ethiopia enjoyed near-unfettered access to the port of Assab and, to a lesser extent, Massawa—thanks to a cooperative arrangement with newly independent Eritrea. Trade flowed, tariffs were negotiated, and the ports functioned as lifelines for Ethiopia’s economy. Yet this pragmatic arrangement was shattered not by Eritrean hostility, but by Ethiopia’s own belligerent posture and territorial provocations.
Dr. Gedion conveniently omits the period of peaceful port access, choosing instead to lament Ethiopia’s landlocked status following Eritrea’s 1993 independence. Yet the historical record is unequivocal: modern Ethiopia acquired maritime access only through the 1952 UN-brokered federation with Eritrea—a political arrangement that pledged autonomy but swiftly unraveled into annexation. In 1962, Ethiopia unilaterally dissolved the federation, violating both its spirit and its legal framework, and setting in motion a brutal 30-year war. This breach of international trust did not go unnoticed; it was explicitly condemned by successive Eritrean liberation movements and acknowledged by the foreign minister who recognized the betrayal at the heart of the conflict.
When Eritrea reclaimed its sovereignty through a UN-supervised referendum in 1993, Ethiopia’s return to landlocked status was not a geopolitical tragedy—it was the restoration of a rightful boundary. Ethiopia had initially gained access to Eritrean ports with the blessing of the international community, but once granted an inch, it seized a mile—dismantling the federation and absorbing Eritrea illegally.
The 1993 referendum, in which Eritreans voted overwhelmingly for independence, was not just a political milestone—it was a moral and legal correction. It affirmed Eritrea’s complete sovereignty, including over its maritime territory. To frame this outcome as a loss for Ethiopia is to ignore the decades of war, displacement, and sacrifice endured by Eritreans in pursuit of self-determination. It is not landlocked status that should concern us, but the failure to respect borders, autonomy, and the foundational principles of international law.
To suggest that Ethiopia’s lack of direct sea access is an existential crisis is to ignore decades of evidence to the contrary. Ethiopia has thrived with negotiated port access through Djibouti, Berbera, and previously Assab. What has undermined its maritime interests is not geography, but policy—specifically, the failure to cultivate stable, respectful relations with its neighbors.
The real existential threat to Ethiopia is not its distance from the coast, but its proximity to internal collapse. Ethnic fragmentation, civil unrest, and the erosion of federal authority pose far greater dangers than the absence of a flag on a shoreline. What Ethiopia needs is not territorial revisionism, but intellectual and diplomatic expansion—a foreign policy rooted in mutual respect, historical accountability, and regional integration.
To pursue sea access through coercion or irredentism is not merely a threat to regional stability—it is a betrayal of the very principles of sovereignty and peaceful coexistence that Ethiopia claims to uphold. Prosperity will not be won by annexing ports, but by anchoring policy in truth, restraint, and regional solidarity.
The recent surge of reckless rhetoric—now amplified by the explicit sanction of Prime Minister Abiy—coupled with military posturing and bravado, is no demonstration of strength. It is a strategic miscalculation, one that alienates the very allies who share the Foreign Minister’s stated vision of an integrated Horn of Africa.
Eritrea may lack the capacity to defeat Ethiopia outright, but it possesses the resolve to ensure mutually assured destruction—guaranteeing that no one reaps the benefits of sea access. History itself delivers the verdict: Eritrea has never served Ethiopia’s prosperity since the federation was abrogated. The war in Eritrea drained Ethiopia of vital developmental resources, leaving it among the most impoverished and underdeveloped nations in Africa. The last thing the HOA needs for Ethiopia and Eritrean to be embroiled in a zero-sum conflict. Both countries are on the precipice of war and if both don’t start blinking, both would go blind.
Ethiopia’s Territorial Ambitions: A Threat to the African Project
Dr. Gedion Timothewos’ assertions regarding Ethiopia’s territorial ambitions are not only problematic—they are perilous. These ambitions pose a danger not just to Eritrea, but to the stability of the entire African continent. Ethiopia has long styled itself as the emblem of African independence, a nation untouched by colonial rule and a beacon of sovereignty. Yet its posture toward territorial expansion has repeatedly undermined this image, revealing a troubling contradiction between its rhetoric and its actions.
The story of Eritrea is, in many ways, the story of Africa. With the exception of Ethiopia and Liberia, every African nation emerged from the crucible of colonialism. Eritrea’s struggle for independence was not an anomaly—it was a reflection of the broader continental experience: the fight to reclaim dignity, sovereignty, and self-determination. To dismiss Eritrea’s sovereignty or to treat its borders as negotiable is to undermine the very principles upon which postcolonial Africa was built.
The African Union, headquartered in Addis Abeba, bears a special responsibility in this regard. As the custodian of continental norms and the guardian of Africa’s postcolonial order, it must make clear to Ethiopia that any attempt to redraw borders or erode the sovereignty of a fellow member state crosses a red line—one that violates the AU’s founding charter and threatens the fragile fabric of regional stability.
Ethiopia’s historical role as a “great power” in the Horn of Africa—whether through imperial conquest, annexation, or more recent military ventures—has often come at the expense of regional stability. Its model of expansion, cloaked in the language of strategic necessity, risks reviving the very patterns of domination that the African Union was created to dismantle.
This contradiction is especially stark given Ethiopia’s symbolic stature. As the headquarters of the African Union and host to several key UN agencies, Ethiopia is expected to model a commitment to international law, regional cooperation, and the sanctity of borders. Yet time and again, it has failed to meet this standard. Its aggressive posture toward Eritrea, equivocations on the sovereignty of neighboring states, and disregard for negotiated norms cast a long shadow over its claims to continental leadership.
Indeed, as early as the 1950s and 60s, African intellectuals and liberation leaders visiting Ethiopia voiced a sobering concern: if Ethiopia—with its uninterrupted independence—was the prototype for postcolonial sovereignty, then perhaps the dream of African self-rule was more fragile than they had imagined. Ethiopia’s reluctance to respect international norms and its tendency to assert dominance over smaller neighbors have only deepened this unease.
To fulfill its role as a steward of African unity, Ethiopia must confront its own imperial reflexes. Leadership in Africa is not earned through military might or historical prestige—it is earned through restraint, respect, and a principled commitment to the dignity of all nations. Until Ethiopia reconciles its ambitions with its responsibilities, it will remain a cautionary tale rather than a continental exemplar.
Fracture or Frame: Why Truth Matters in the Badme War
The 1998–2000 war between Eritrea and Ethiopia was fought over the village of Badme. That is not a simplification—it is a historical fact. Badme was the flashpoint, and it was not the first time the TPLF clashed with Eritreans over it. Decades earlier, the TPLF had confronted the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF) in the same contested area. Even before armed conflict erupted, Badme was the subject of a long-running legal dispute between Ras Mengesha Seyoum, then governor of Tigray, and the administrator of Gash-Setit in western Eritrea.
I believe that had wisdom and enlightened self-interest had prevailed, the war could have been averted. But to minimize its origins—to claim it had “nothing to do with Badme”—is neither true nor just. Thousands fought and died, on both sides, believing they were defending their land. Their sacrifice demands respect, not revisionism.
Of course, no war is born of a single cause. Conflicts are always shaped by a constellation of factors—political, historical, psychological. Yet what ultimately matters is how a war is framed. The Badme conflict was cast as a border war, and that framing allowed it to be adjudicated under international law. The Eritrea-Ethiopia Boundary Commission (EEBC), established through the Algiers Agreement, ruled decisively: Badme lies within Eritrean territory.
The just war tradition likewise insists on framing. For a war to be considered just, it must meet specific criteria: a just cause, a right intention, and the pursuit of a just peace as its ultimate goal. There is wisdom, therefore, in framing a conflict narrowly—especially when resolution is the objective. To attribute every imaginable grievance to the war, to inflate its causes beyond recognition, is to render it insoluble.
That is precisely what has happened. The war has been reinterpreted, repackaged, and politicized by those with little interest in resolution. It is a tactic not of peacemaking, but of perpetual deferral. Whether cloaked in the language of scholarship or diplomacy, it is wrong, irresponsible, and counterproductive to make the border war more than what it was.
Foreign Minister Gideon’s revisionism on the Badme conflict is neither wise nor true. It is dangerous—and it must be nipped in the bud. To distort the origins of war is to distort the path to peace. If we are to honor the dead, restore dignity to the displaced, and move forward with clarity, we must resist the temptation to obscure. The war over Badme was tragic, complex, and avoidable—but it was, at its core, a border war. And that is how it was settled. Let us not lose sight of that truth.
The 2018 Rapprochement: A Power Play, not a Peace Effort
Dr. Gedion Timothewos casts the 2018 rapprochement between Ethiopia and Eritrea as a watershed moment—a historic gesture of peace and reconciliation. But beneath the ceremonial optics lies a more cynical calculus. The foreign minister’s narrative omits the true motivations behind Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s initiative: not the pursuit of regional harmony, but the strategic neutralization of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), the dominant force within Ethiopia’s former ruling coalition and a formidable political rival.
Far from being a genuine peace overture, Abiy’s outreach to Eritrea was a tactical alliance designed to isolate and ultimately dismantle the TPLF. The handshake with President Isaias Afwerki was not a reconciliation between nations—it was a pact between two leaders united by a common adversary. This alliance culminated in the catastrophic Tigray War, where Eritrean forces—invited by Abiy—played a central role in a campaign marked by mass atrocities and the destruction of civilian infrastructure.
If Abiy’s intentions had truly been rooted in peace, his priority would have been to reconcile with his own citizens—to address the grievances of Tigrayans, Oromos, Amharas, Afars, Somalis, and other marginalized groups within Ethiopia. Instead, he chose to externalize the conflict, weaponizing Eritrean support to crush domestic dissent. The result was not national healing, but national trauma.
Dr. Gedion’s failure to acknowledge this dimension of the rapprochement is a serious omission. It strips the moment of its political context and recasts a calculated maneuver as a noble gesture. But history demands a more honest accounting. The 2018 accord did not usher in a new era of peace—it opened the door to one of the most devastating wars in modern Ethiopian history.
To understand the true nature of the Ethiopia–Eritrea thaw, one must look beyond the photo ops and Nobel accolades. The rapprochement was not a triumph of diplomacy—it was a prelude to war. And until Ethiopia confronts the consequences of that choice, its appeals to regional stability will remain hollow.
I do not assign sole responsibility for the war in Tigray to Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, though he must bear the lion’s share—after all, the ultimate burden of leadership rests with him. The conflict was not the product of a single decision, but rather the culmination of cascading failures. Chief among them was the absence of a Meles-like figure within the Tigrayan leadership: someone with the foresight to anticipate shifting dynamics, the pragmatism to choose the lesser evil, and the strategic maturity to recalibrate in the face of evolving realities. In place of such leadership, what emerged was a perilous overestimation of strength and a rigid political posture ill-suited to the moment. The Tigrayan leadership was unfit for the crisis then—and remains so today.
The Scapegoat Syndrome: Eritrea’s “Outsized” Influence and Ethiopia’s Internal Reckoning
Dr. Gedion Timothewos’ speech leans heavily on the claim that Eritrea has wielded disproportionate influence over Ethiopian politics and economy. But this assertion raises a far more uncomfortable question: How is it that a small, relatively young nation like Eritrea—barely three decades old and with a fraction of Ethiopia’s population—could so profoundly shape the trajectory of a country with a 3,000-year civilizational legacy and over 130 million citizens?
If there is any merit to this wild allegation, the answer lies not in Eritrea’s strength, but in Ethiopia’s fragility—or perhaps in its enduring misreading of history and present realities.
For years, Ethiopia has been plagued by deep-rooted governance failures, ethnic polarization, and a crisis of legitimacy at the center. These internal fissures have rendered the state ineffective and vulnerable to external manipulation—not because its neighbors are unusually powerful, but because its own institutions are alarmingly brittle. If Eritrea’s influence is indeed as far-reaching as the foreign minister suggests, it is less a testament to Asmera’s cunning than an indictment of Addis Abeba’s incoherence and incompetence.
Rather than confront this uncomfortable truth, Dr. Gedion opts for a familiar deflection: blame the neighbor. Casting Eritrea as the puppet master absolves Ethiopia’s ruling elite of responsibility for their own miscalculations, misgovernance, and missed opportunities. It is a narrative of victimhood that may serve short-term political ends, but it comes at a steep cost.
By portraying Ethiopia as a passive victim of Eritrean aggression, the government inadvertently diminishes the agency and dignity of its own people. It suggests that a nation of Ethiopia’s stature can be manipulated like a marionette by a smaller, isolated neighbor—a narrative that insults the intelligence of Ethiopian citizens and undermines the very pride and sovereignty the government claims to defend.
If Ethiopia is to reclaim its rightful place as a regional leader, it must begin by looking inward. The path to stability and influence does not lie in scapegoating Eritrea—or any other neighbor. It lies in rebuilding trust, restoring governance, and confronting the structural weaknesses that have left the Ethiopian state so vulnerable. Only then can Ethiopia speak of leadership in the Horn of Africa with credibility—and with dignity intact.
The Horn of Africa is crying out for leadership it can believe in. And when such leadership emerges, the region will recognize it instantly. Yet Ethiopia’s current posture—marked by needless brinkmanship and reckless military threats—is driving its neighbors toward a dangerous precedent. Somalia and Eritrea, both historically resistant to foreign entanglements, are being nudged toward the Djibouti model: outsourcing national defense to global powers.
Djibouti, for all its strategic positioning, has become both a host to foreign militaries and a conduit for Ethiopian commerce. Though exact figures remain undisclosed, estimates suggest Djibouti earns between $1.5 and $2.0 billion annually from Ethiopian trade and port access
By contrast, between 1991 and 1998, Ethiopia paid Eritrea virtually nothing—zero for the use of Assab, and a paltry 1.5% for Massawa. The economic incentive for Eritrea to follow Djibouti’s example is already substantial. Ethiopia should not provide the final push. Provocative rhetoric and imperial nostalgia may serve domestic political theater, but they risk triggering a regional realignment that would further erode Ethiopia’s influence and deepen its isolation.
Leadership in the Horn will not be secured through intimidation or revisionist ambition. It will be earned through humility, cooperation, and a sober reckoning with the past.
Isaias Afwerki: A Consistent Advocate for Ethiopian Unity
While Dr. Gedion Timothewos devotes considerable attention to Eritrea’s alleged provocations, he sidesteps a glaring contradiction in his argument: the very figure he casts as a destabilizing antagonist—President Isaias Afwerki—has, in fact, been one of the most consistent and outspoken advocates for Ethiopian unity.
Contrary to the prevailing narrative that casts Eritrea as a destabilizing force bent on Ethiopia’s disintegration, Isaias has consistently resisted the temptation to exploit Ethiopia’s internal fractures. He has refrained from supporting secessionist movements—even when doing so might have advanced Eritrea’s strategic interests or appeased popular sentiment among some Eritreans disillusioned by Ethiopia’s historic aggression.
This restraint is not incidental; it is ideological. Isaias has long rejected the balkanization of Ethiopia, despite ample opportunities to back ethnic insurgencies or encourage fragmentation along the lines of the former Soviet Union or Yugoslavia. While it is true that he has supported Ethiopian opposition groups, he has consistently discouraged them from pursuing secessionist agendas.
Ethiopia, too, has engaged Eritrean opposition forces. But its ambivalent posture—neither principled nor consistent—has only further undermined the opposition’s credibility and cohesion. In truth, both governments have played similar games. The difference is that Isaias has played his more effectively—with greater clarity, discipline, and strategic patience than his counterparts in Addis Ababa. It was the Ethiopian government that sought to sap Eritrean nationalism of its vigor, exploiting internal fault lines to stoke division and fragmentation. Their aim was not solidarity, but subjugation: a weakened Eritrean state they could control—either directly or through pliant proxies. While some Eritreans succumbed to this poison, many have come to see the truth: the road to Asmara does not run through Addis Ababa. It runs through the hearts and minds of the Eritrean people.
This principled stance has come at a political cost. Many Eritreans, especially those who bore the brunt of Ethiopia’s wars and betrayals, have questioned why their government did not retaliate by supporting Ethiopia’s internal disintegration. Yet Isaias has remained steadfast, believing that the stability of Ethiopia is essential to the stability of the Horn.
Dr. Gedion’s omission of this fact is not merely selective—it is misleading. It undermines the credibility of Ethiopia’s portrayal of Eritrea as a regional saboteur and ignores the broader record of Eritrean policy. Isaias’ opposition to fragmentation is not limited to Ethiopia; he has consistently rejected secessionist projects across the Horn of Africa, including the independence of South Sudan and the recognition of Somaliland. His position, whether one agrees with it or not, reflects a coherent vision of regional unity and territorial integrity.
By contrast, the late Prime Minister Meles Zenawi openly declared his support for regime change in Eritrea in April 2011—a rare and revealing admission that laid bare Ethiopia’s confrontational posture. This came atop Ethiopia’s central role in perpetuating the nearly two-decade-long no-war-no-peace stalemate—a policy that drained Eritrea of its most vital resource: its youth.
For years, thousands of Eritreans remained stranded on defense lines, unable to return home. Countless others fled into exile, seeking refuge from the burden of indefinite national service and a suffocating political climate that stripped life of any semblance of normalcy. The toll was not merely economic or demographic—it was existential. An entire generation was suspended in limbo, as the social fabric of the nation unraveled under the weight of a conflict frozen in time.
I hold the Isaias regime primarily responsible for our people’s suffering—because it is true, and because taking responsibility, and not blaming others, is the moral thing to do. But I cannot ignore Ethiopia’s unprincipled posture, which not only prolonged the crisis but deepened its human cost. One cannot speak of Eritrea’s pain without acknowledging the role of those who helped sustain it.
Ethiopia under Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has equivocated on these very issues—oscillating between gestures of support for self-determination and vague, often contradictory appeals to national unity. This inconsistency stands in stark relief against Eritrea’s more rigid—some would argue principled—stance on territorial integrity. Abiy’s willingness to recognize Somaliland, for instance, was not born of a coherent regional doctrine but of a deeper ambition: to secure sea access at any cost and inscribe himself into Ethiopia’s imperial legacy as the “Seventh King.” His overtures were less about diplomacy than about mythmaking—a quest to restore Ethiopia’s imagined grandeur and cement his place in the annals of empire.
His regional policies are transactional, not principle driven. They are shaped less by enduring values than by opportunistic calculus. At the heart of this posture is a self-image: Abiy sees himself not as a steward of a fragile federation, but as a man of destiny—anointed to reshape the Horn of Africa in his likeness. This messianic vision distorts Ethiopia’s foreign policy, turning strategic engagement into personal theater and undermining the very stability he claims to champion.
To ignore this dimension is to flatten the complexity of regional politics into a caricature. If Ethiopia wishes to lead the Horn of Africa toward peace and cooperation, it must first reconcile its own contradictions and acknowledge the inconvenient truths that complicate its preferred narrative. Demonizing Eritrea while overlooking its restraint does little to advance the cause of regional stability—and even less to foster the trust required for genuine dialogue.
When Truth and Power Align, So Does My Loyalty
I’m aware that some, who have been following my writings and activism, may question why I am defending Isaias, a man that I have argued is responsible for most of the ills bedeviling Eritrea. But let me be clear: I am defending the truth. If Isaias stands on the side of truth, then he merits not only my defense but my unwavering support.
For that, I offer no apology. My loyalty is to truth, not to personalities. Loyalty is a virtue, but integrity is greater still. As our people say, “ዓርኮም ከሰንዩ ቤት ፍርዲ ይኸዱ: ምእንቲ ሓቂ ግና ይምስክሩ”—they go to court to accompany their friend, but they bear witness to the truth.
I only wish Isaias stood more consistently on the side of truth and justice—for when he does, he merits not only defense but affirmation. Yet truth is not a partisan refuge; it is a moral imperative. I will not abandon it simply because others find it inconvenient.
Yes, I have criticized Isaias before—just as Foreign Minister Gideon has. But there is a difference. My critique is born of conscience and commitment, not calculation. I believe in the old adage: I may curse my children in moments of anguish, but woe unto the stranger who says “Amen.” That is not hypocrisy—it is fidelity. Isaias is no saint—far from it. But in the brutal calculus of survival, he’s the devil the Eritreans know, and the one they’ll keep if it means keeping enemies at bay. The man is like a tardigrade—feed him crisis, conflict, and hardship, and he thrives. But that’s not what Eritrea needs. It’s not what the Horn of Africa needs.
This is the tension of principled loyalty: to speak truth even when it wounds, and to defend truth even when it is unpopular. I do not follow Isaias blindly, nor do I oppose him reflexively. I follow the truth—and if he walks with it, I walk with him.
Despite his revolutionary pedigree, President Isaias Afwerki has come to embody a model of leadership that mistakes survival for progress, conformity for unity, fear for loyalty, and obedience for commitment. As of 2025, he is the seventh oldest serving president in Africa and the fourth longest in office, having ruled Eritrea since it gained independence in 1991. What might have been a legacy of resilience has instead ossified into a regime defined by inertia, opacity, and squandered potential.
Were it not for the incompetence and mediocrity he has consistently displayed in nation-building—and the misery he has inflicted—one might tolerate his extended tenure. But as the old saying goes: a leader, like a fish or a guest, begins to stink after the third day—or the third term. After 34 years, Eritreans are exhausted. We are subjected to the same tired rhetoric, the same black-and-white narratives, and the same aging figurehead whose presence now evokes pity more than pride
This stagnation is not limited to the presidency. The average age of Eritrea’s cabinet and those in charge of governmental bureaucracy is estimated to hover around 80, a stark contrast to Ethiopia’s, where the average is closer to 50. This generational gap is not merely symbolic—it reflects a deeper failure to renew, adapt, and empower. Eritrea’s leadership remains frozen in time, while the region evolves around it.
Isaias once stood for revolutionary change. Today, he stands in its way. Leadership is not a birthright, nor a lifetime appointment. It must be earned—through vision, renewal, and service. And when it no longer serves, it must be relinquished. Isaias must step aside. But his removal is the sole responsibility of the Eritrean people—and theirs alone.
Eritrea’s Regional Role: Beyond the Troublemaker Narrative
While Dr. Gedion Timothewos casts Eritrea as a perennial destabilizer in the Horn of Africa, such a portrayal flattens a far more complex reality. Eritrea’s regional conduct, though often criticized and rightfully so I might add, has at times reflected restraint, responsibility, and even humanitarian leadership—qualities conspicuously absent from the foreign minister’s account.
A striking example of Eritrea’s more humane posture in regional affairs is its response to the crisis in Sudan. Amid the collapse of governance and the eruption of violence, Eritrea stood alone in the Horn of Africa as the only nation to offer Sudanese refugees unconditional assylum. While neighboring states imposed bureaucratic hurdles, sealed borders, or politicized asylum, Eritrea quietly opened its doors—without fanfare, without preconditions, and without the indignities that so often accompany displacement. Refugees were received not as burdens, but as fellow Africans in need.
As someone who fled Ethiopia’s scorched earth campaign as a child and found sanctuary among the Sudanese people, I witnessed firsthand the dignity of true hospitality. That memory remains etched in my conscience, and I take pride in the fact that, at least in this instance, President Isaias Afwerki acted with honor. His decision reflected not only moral clarity but a rare moment of solidarity that did Eritreans proud.
This act of solidarity stands in sharp contrast to the FM’s narrative. It reveals a dimension of Eritrean policy that is principled and humane, even as the regime in Asmara remains deeply flawed. To acknowledge this is not to absolve Eritrea of its authoritarian excesses—it is to insist on a fuller, more honest accounting of its regional role.
Eritrea’s posture in the Horn of Africa is far from monolithic. It has oscillated between isolation and engagement, confrontation and cooperation. To reduce it to a caricature of perpetual aggression is to ignore the moments when it has acted with restraint, dignity, and strategic clarity.
In the case of Sudan, Eritrea’s response was not only responsible—it was exemplary. It resisted opportunism and instead prioritized regional stability. Likewise, Eritrea has lawfully abided by international rulings, including the verdicts of the Permanent Court of Arbitration on the Hanish Islands and the Eritrea-Ethiopia Boundary Commission on Badme. These are not minor gestures—they reflect a principled commitment to legal resolution over military adventurism.
In its relatively short history as a sovereign state, Eritrea has demonstrated a more consistent record of respecting international law rulings than its larger neighbor, Ethiopia. That record deserves recognition—not to absolve Eritrea of its internal failings, but to resist the lazy narratives that obscure its moments of principled statecraft.
If Ethiopia wishes to lead the region with credibility, it must abandon the reflex of demonization and embrace a more nuanced diplomacy. Regional peace will not be built on one-dimensional narratives. It will require the courage to see complexity, the humility to admit contradiction, and the wisdom to recognize humanity—even in one’s adversaries.
Conclusion: Toward a More Honest Reckoning
Dr. Gedion Timothewos’ speech offers a polished account of Ethiopia’s role in the Horn of Africa, but it ultimately falls short of the candor required for meaningful regional dialogue. While it gestures toward diplomacy and restraint, it glosses over Ethiopia’s internal crises and the historical complexities that define its relationship with Eritrea. The foreign minister’s failure to acknowledge Ethiopia’s own role in exacerbating instability is not a minor omission—it is a fundamental distortion.
Yes, the Eritrean government bears responsibility for its authoritarian posture and regional provocations. But Ethiopia is not merely a victim of external aggression. Its internal fragmentation, its strategic miscalculations, and its repeated failure to uphold democratic norms have all contributed to the Horn’s volatility. Ethiopia’s open, hostile and belligerent policy towards Eritrea is not only confined to the regime but to the people and their national cohesion. To ignore this is to perpetuate a narrative of innocence that neither history nor reality supports.
Equally troubling is the framing of Ethiopia’s access to the sea as an “existential” imperative. This rhetoric distorts the historical record—one in which Ethiopia has both gained and lost port access through political decisions, not divine entitlement. To cast geography as destiny is not only misleading; it risks inflaming territorial ambitions under the guise of national survival.
Prosperity does not flow from coastlines. It flows from governance, cooperation, and the capacity to build trust across borders. Ethiopia’s future will not be secured by annexationist fantasies, but by intellectual expansion—by cultivating institutions, ideas, and partnerships that transcend geography.
The solution to the people’s problems has never been less democracy—it has always been more. Democracy is not a quick fix. It is a long, difficult, and often frustrating project. But that is precisely why it must begin without delay. No one is advocating for the baby to be thrown out with the bathwater—but there are many responsible ways to begin the process of democratization.
No matter the challenges the Horn of Africa faces, we must remain steadfast in our commitment to self-rule, popular participation, and the devolution of power. These are not luxuries to be deferred until some imagined stability arrives—they are the very foundation of lasting peace and justice.
The people must be trusted with their own future. Their voices must not only be heard, but empowered. Their dignity must not only be acknowledged, but institutionalized. Only then can we build a society that is resilient, inclusive, and truly free—where regional integration becomes a lived reality, not a distant aspiration.
Ethiopia does not need more land. It needs more vision. It does not suffer from geographic isolation, but from intellectual stagnation. With ample access to the sea through the ports of Djibouti, Somalia, Sudan, Kenya, and Eritrea, Ethiopia’s challenge is not maritime—it is mental. What it lacks most is not a coastline, but a coherent strategy to harness the intellect, creativity, and potential of its 130 million citizens. No port can substitute for purpose. No corridor can replace clarity. The future will not be won by expansion, but by imagination.
I must admit: a change in Eritrea’s leadership would significantly advance the prospects for regional peace. But that change is the sovereign right of the Eritrean people—and theirs alone. Too often underestimated, the Eritrean people speak volumes in their silence. What they are saying is clear: if the “change” being offered resembles the upheavals in Sudan, Ethiopia, Yemen, or Somalia—then the answer is simple: thanks, but no thanks.
Eritreans understand that replacing authoritarianism with anarchy is not progress. Security without justice is untenable, but chaos without accountability is no alternative. What Eritrea needs is not merely change—it needs responsible government, responsible opposition, and responsible neighbors.
That change must be one the people can believe in, and it must be preceded by the convergence of responsible Eritreans—both inside and outside the country. Every conscientious Eritrean must ask: What can I do to usher in and expedite this long-awaited transformation, and ensure it leads to the change we need and the change we deserve as a people who fought hard and long for self-rule, dignity, peace, justice, and prosperity?
If Ethiopia can genuinely commit to democratization and national reconciliation, it would send a powerful signal across the region. Such a transformation would not only stabilize Ethiopia—it would help catalyze a more credible and organic path toward change in Eritrea. Regional peace begins with national integrity.
The path to lasting peace between Ethiopia and Eritrea—and across the Horn—lies not in selective storytelling or strategic deflection. It lies in confronting the internal dysfunctions that plague both states, recognizing the rights and dignity of all peoples in the region, and embracing a model of leadership rooted in intellectual, diplomatic, and political maturity.
Dr. Gedion’s vision of Ethiopia as a regional leader is aspirational. But aspiration must be grounded in truth. A genuine resolution to the Horn’s enduring tensions will require Ethiopia to move beyond curated narratives and toward a more honest reckoning—with its past, its present, and its responsibilities to the future.
The young foreign minister of Ethiopia could initiate the long-overdue process of regional reconciliation with a simple gesture: learning to pronounce Eritrea correctly—eh·ruh·tree·uh. It may seem trivial, but such gestures matter. They signal respect, recognition, and a willingness to engage with history on its own terms. Eritrea is not a native word he can easily pronounce, of course—but neither is Ethiopia. Many Eritreans struggle with the word Ethiopia, rendering it as Estopia, Etopia, Usubia, or Utupia. Both names are foreign, inherited through layers of imperial cartography and classical mythology. Eritrea derives from the Latinized Greek Erythra Thalassa, meaning “Red Sea.” Ethiopia comes from the ancient Greek Aithiopia, meaning “land of the burnt-faced people”—a descriptor broadly applied to people beyond Egypt in classical texts. These names are not indigenous markers of identity, but relics of external gaze. To pronounce them with care is not to affirm their origins, but to acknowledge the histories they carry—and the peoples who live beyond them.
Perhaps the time has come for Ethiopia to reclaim its identity—not through territorial ambition, but through introspection. A name change may seem symbolic, but symbols matter. They shape memory, signal renewal, and offer nations a chance to reimagine themselves beyond the shadows of empire.
In the Horn of Africa, history has often been overwritten by conquest and memory distorted by myth. Even Ethiopia’s name—drawn not from indigenous heritage but from Greco-Roman cartography—embodies this legacy of external imposition, later absorbed into internal myth-making. Yet names matter. They shape identity, signal orientation, and reveal the stories nations choose to tell about themselves.
If Ethiopia were to reframe its name and narrative with honesty and humility, Eritrea might well follow. Sudan might follow too. True reconciliation in the region begins not with maps, but with meaning—not with territorial ambition, but with historical reckoning.
In fact, Eritrea should lead this process. It already has, in part, through its currency. The Nakfa is more than a medium of exchange; it is a symbol of resilience, fortitude, sacrifice, and heroism. It anchors our history in struggle, not myth—in lived memory, not borrowed nomenclature. That is the kind of symbolic clarity the region needs: not more lines on a map, but more truth in its foundations.
We’ve seen this before: Turkey’s transition to Türkiye, Bombay’s restoration to Mumbai, and Burma’s reversion to Myanmar. These were not mere cosmetic changes—they were acts of cultural reclamation, deliberate efforts to align national identity with linguistic heritage and historical truth.
Ethiopia and Eritrea might take inspiration from Egypt, where dual naming—Egypt in its Hellenic form and Misr in its Semitic root—reflects a layered identity rather than a fractured one. To outsiders, it is Egypt; to Egyptians and their Arab neighbors, it is Misr. Embracing such plurality need not signal division. On the contrary, it affirms continuity, dignity, and the richness of civilizational memory.
Ethiopia and Eritrea, too, deserve names that reflect their own languages, geographies, and lived histories—not colonial projections or imperial abstractions. Such a shift would not erase the past but clarify it. It would signal a willingness to move forward—not through expansion, but through reflection.
In a region scarred by war and rivalry, the most radical act may be to rename—not to dominate, but to define oneself anew.
To contact the writer: weriz@yahoo.com
Awate Forum