ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia – In the high-stakes politics of the Horn of Africa, words can be as dangerous as weapons. Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s recent remarks on the Eritrean port of Assab are being interpreted by many observers not as mere saber-rattling, but as a de facto declaration of war—an existential challenge to the Eritrean state itself.
While Abiy insists Ethiopia seeks a peaceful resolution, the language he and his officials employ goes far beyond negotiation. By framing Ethiopia’s landlocked status as a historic “mistake” that must be “corrected tomorrow,” Abiy casts Eritrea’s 1993 UN-backed independence referendum—the foundation of its sovereignty—as illegitimate. This is not an appeal for commercial access but a rejection of Eritrea’s right to exist as it does today.
Ethiopia already enjoys reliable sea access through Djibouti. What Abiy demands, however, is sovereign control of a port and a corridor to the sea—an outright territorial transfer that international law explicitly forbids.
His government describes this as a matter of “national survival,” elevating what was once an economic debate into a national security imperative and preparing the public for the idea that “any price” is justified.
Senior Ethiopian officials have echoed the message. Brigadier General Teshome Gemechu has called Assab a “national objective” and dismissed the 1990s transitional government that recognized Eritrea’s independence as lacking the mandate to “hand over a sea gate.” Such rhetoric is not about lowering port fees—it is the language of an ultimatum.
For Eritrea, these statements cut to the core of its political identity. President Isaias Afwerki has long justified his authoritarian rule and indefinite military conscription by pointing to an existential Ethiopian threat.
Abiy’s words validate this narrative, leaving Asmara with no political space to concede sovereignty. Eritrea’s government has condemned the remarks as “reckless saber-rattling” and a “distortion of history,” while analysts warn they lay the groundwork for conflict.
The consequences are already destabilizing. By framing sea access as an existential issue, Abiy’s government is normalizing the idea of war, desensitizing both domestic and international audiences to what would be a blatant violation of the UN and African Union charters. Having built his credibility on correcting a “historic mistake,” Abiy risks boxing himself into a corner where backing down without a tangible victory may be politically impossible.
This escalation underscores the complete breakdown of the 2018 peace accord, which had ended two decades of “no war, no peace” after the bloody 1998–2000 conflict. That deal was less a true reconciliation than a tactical anti-TPLF alliance between Abiy and Isaias. The partnership unraveled after the 2022 Pretoria Agreement ended the Tigray War but left the TPLF politically intact—a betrayal for Isaias, who had sought its annihilation.
Having lost his most important regional ally, Abiy has embraced a disruptive foreign policy. In January 2024, he struck a controversial deal with Somaliland, offering potential recognition of the breakaway Somali region in exchange for a 50-year lease of a naval base.
The move infuriated Somalia and drew condemnation from the African Union, the Arab League, the United States, and the EU—leaving Ethiopia isolated and driving Somalia, Eritrea, and Egypt closer together in opposition.
Abiy’s urgency is also driven by domestic turmoil. His government is battling deadly insurgencies in Amhara and Oromia while struggling with crippling inflation and debt. Analysts see the Red Sea campaign as a classic “rally ’round the flag” strategy—a nationalist distraction from mounting failures at home.
Today, with troops reportedly massing on both sides of the border, Ethiopia and Eritrea are once again on a collision course. Neither side can concede without sacrificing its very legitimacy. In a region scarred by the memory of the 1998–2000 war, Abiy’s rhetoric sounds less like diplomacy and more like a precursor to conflict.
Without urgent international intervention, the Horn of Africa could be dragged into a catastrophic war—with consequences far beyond the region.