Column by Ademola Adekusibe
What happened in Ethiopia this week should not be dismissed as another outbreak of fighting in the country’s troubled Tigray region. On September 21, seven Ethiopian armed groups announced the formation of the Ethiopian Peoples’ Forces Alliance for Survival, a coalition bringing together movements from different parts of the country with the stated objective of removing Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s government. Among them were the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, or TPLF, and the Amhara Fano National Movement, two forces that fought on opposite sides during Ethiopia’s devastating 2020–2022 war. Two days later, fighting erupted across Tigray and spread into neighbouring Afar and Amhara, while Tigrayan forces seized three airports and Ethiopian Airlines suspended flights to the region. What makes the development significant is therefore not simply that guns have started firing again in Tigray. It is that the political and military alliances surrounding the conflict have changed. Former enemies have found a common opponent, and Ethiopia’s federal government is now confronting a political alignment that stretches beyond the old Tigray battlefield.
The immediate background is the collapse of confidence surrounding the Pretoria Agreement, the 2022 peace deal that ended the previous Tigray war. That agreement halted the large-scale fighting between federal forces and the TPLF, but it did not magically resolve the political questions that had produced the conflict. The deal provided for the disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration of Tigrayan forces, political dialogue and the return of displaced people, but disputes over territory, political authority, regional security and the future relationship between Tigray and Addis Ababa remained unresolved. By 2026, tensions had again intensified, including a struggle over political control in Tigray, reports of renewed military mobilisation and clashes between Tigrayan forces and federal forces. In May, the TPLF reasserted control over Tigray’s regional political administration, while the federal government accused the movement of violating the political and security arrangements established by Pretoria.
The significance of the new alliance lies precisely in what happened after Pretoria. The coalition is not simply a larger version of the TPLF. It brings together groups with different histories and, in some cases, mutually hostile interests. Fano forces fought alongside the Ethiopian federal government against the TPLF during the previous war, only to later become embroiled in their own conflict with Addis Ababa from 2023. The Oromo Liberation Army and other regional movements have their own longstanding grievances against the federal government. The seven groups are therefore united primarily by opposition to the present political order rather than by a single ideological programme or shared vision of Ethiopia’s future. That distinction matters because an alliance built around opposition to one government can be powerful without necessarily possessing a coherent political project for what comes next.
Political movements do not need to agree on everything to cooperate against a common opponent. History is full of temporary alliances between groups that would otherwise have little reason to trust one another. The TPLF’s decision to cooperate with former adversaries therefore reflects a very different calculation from the one that shaped the previous war. A senior TPLF official told Al Jazeera that the movement did not want a repeat of the previous war in which it was encircled and isolated. The calculation is understandable. If several regional movements can coordinate their political and military pressure rather than confronting Addis Ababa separately, each group potentially gains greater strategic room. But the arrangement also contains a contradiction: the same groups that have discovered common ground against Abiy may still disagree profoundly about territory, federalism, regional autonomy and the future structure of Ethiopia.
Then the fighting came. On September 23, Tigrayan forces launched operations in northern Ethiopia, with fighting reported across Tigray and later extending into Afar and Amhara. Tigrayan forces seized airports, including the airport in Mekelle, and Ethiopian Airlines suspended flights to Tigray because of the security situation. Both sides accused the other of initiating the escalation. The Tigray Army said the federal government had launched a major offensive involving infantry, mechanised units and drones, while officials associated with the federal government accused the TPLF of starting the attack. The Ethiopian military has since described its response as restrained, while reporting heavy fighting around areas including Abala in Afar and parts of North Wollo in Amhara. The competing accounts make it difficult to independently establish every battlefield claim, but the broader fact of a serious military escalation is no longer in doubt.
What makes this particularly dangerous is the geography. Tigray is not an isolated part of Ethiopia floating somewhere on the political map. It borders Eritrea and Sudan, while Afar provides a strategic corridor towards Djibouti and the Red Sea. Amhara lies immediately south of Tigray and has its own armed movement and unresolved political grievances with Addis Ababa. Fighting across these areas therefore places the conflict close to some of the most important strategic corridors in the Horn of Africa. A conflict that remains concentrated in remote areas of Tigray is one problem. A conflict that begins linking Tigray, Amhara and Afar is another. It creates the possibility that several existing disputes could begin feeding into one another.
Eritrea Changes the Calculation
No serious analysis of the present crisis can ignore Eritrea. Ethiopia and Eritrea fought a devastating border war between 1998 and 2000 before their relationship dramatically improved under Abiy Ahmed in 2018. That reconciliation helped produce the diplomatic moment that earned Abiy the Nobel Peace Prize in 2019. Yet the relationship has deteriorated significantly since then. Addis Ababa has accused Eritrea of supporting armed groups seeking to destabilise Ethiopia, while Eritrea has denied the accusations. Those claims should therefore remain treated as allegations rather than established facts. What cannot be disputed, however, is that Ethiopia and Eritrea now have serious strategic disagreements, particularly around Ethiopia’s desire for reliable access to the Red Sea.
The Eritrean question matters because Eritrea was not a neutral spectator during the previous Tigray war. Eritrean troops fought alongside Ethiopian federal forces against the TPLF. Today, the political landscape is radically different. The TPLF is now part of an alliance with former enemies of the federal government, while Addis Ababa and Asmara have become increasingly suspicious of one another. The Ethiopian government has alleged Eritrean backing for armed groups, and Eritrea has rejected such accusations. That means any substantial deterioration between the two countries could transform Ethiopia’s internal crisis into something much larger than a domestic confrontation. The Horn of Africa already has Sudan’s devastating war, instability in Somalia and intense strategic competition around the Red Sea. Another major Ethiopian conflict would enter an already crowded regional security environment.
This is why the current crisis deserves more attention than the familiar headline of “Tigray fighting again.” The real development is that the political map around the Ethiopian state has changed. During the 2020–2022 war, the TPLF faced federal forces supported by Eritrea and Amhara forces. That configuration has now fractured. Eritrea is in dispute with Addis Ababa, Fano has turned against the federal government, and the TPLF has established political and military relationships with movements that once stood on the opposite side of the conflict. Ethiopia is therefore not simply replaying the previous war. It is entering a different configuration of alliances.
That does not mean the new coalition is capable of overthrowing the government. It is important not to confuse the announcement of an alliance with proof of military effectiveness. The groups are geographically dispersed, their political interests are not identical, and their old disputes have not disappeared. One of the most important questions surrounding the alliance is whether its members can remain united when the discussion moves from removing Abiy Ahmed to deciding what Ethiopia should become afterwards. The harder question comes after the common enemy has been weakened: who controls a transitional government, what happens to the federal constitution, how are disputed territories settled, what becomes of regional armed forces and what prevents one group from replacing one centralised political order with another?
These are not secondary questions. They are the questions that determine whether an armed coalition becomes a political settlement or merely the beginning of another cycle of conflict. Ethiopia has already paid an enormous price for failing to settle these questions politically. The previous Tigray war produced catastrophic civilian suffering, mass displacement and the destruction of infrastructure and social systems. The Pretoria Agreement demonstrated that the parties could eventually stop fighting, yet the present crisis shows how fragile a settlement becomes when political, territorial and security questions remain unresolved. The lesson is not that peace agreements are useless. It is that an agreement that stops the shooting must eventually be followed by political arrangements strong enough to prevent the same incentives from producing another war.
For ordinary Ethiopians, this is the most frightening part of what is happening. The political language of armed groups and governments can make conflict sound like an argument between organisations, but wars are ultimately experienced by civilians. They are the people who lose access to roads, airports, schools, hospitals, electricity, communications and livelihoods. They are the people who become displaced when armies move through towns and villages. They are the people who cannot simply leave when political leaders decide that another round of fighting is necessary. The humanitarian consequences of the previous war should make every Ethiopian political actor understand what another prolonged conflict could cost.
That is why the response from African institutions matters. The African Union and the Intergovernmental Authority on Development have called for de-escalation, while international actors have urged the parties to return to dialogue and preserve the Pretoria framework. Yet Ethiopia’s crisis cannot ultimately be solved by statements from Addis Ababa-based continental institutions or foreign capitals. Outside actors can encourage negotiations, apply diplomatic pressure and provide humanitarian assistance. They cannot create the political compromise that Ethiopian actors themselves have repeatedly failed to sustain. The responsibility for preventing another prolonged war ultimately rests with the political actors who have the power to choose negotiation over escalation.
The most worrying possibility is therefore not simply that Tigray becomes another battlefield. It is that Ethiopia’s various regional conflicts begin converging into a broader contest over the federal state. If Tigray, Amhara and other regional disputes become connected through a common military and political strategy, Ethiopia could face a much more complicated crisis than the one it experienced between 2020 and 2022. And if Eritrea becomes more deeply involved, whether directly or through the support that Addis Ababa alleges, the consequences could extend beyond Ethiopia’s borders into the wider Horn.
For now, the prudent conclusion is not that Ethiopia has already entered another nationwide civil war. The evidence establishes something narrower but still deeply serious: the Pretoria peace arrangement is under severe strain, armed conflict has returned to northern Ethiopia, a new coalition of seven armed movements has emerged against the federal government, and the old alliances that defined the previous war have been dramatically rearranged.
The guns have returned to Tigray, but the bigger story is the changing map of power around the Ethiopian state. Ethiopia’s immediate challenge is not simply to stop the latest fighting. It is to prevent another temporary ceasefire from becoming another pause before the next war. Until the country’s competing political and regional forces find a framework in which they can pursue their interests without believing that military power is their only protection, the question of Ethiopia’s stability will remain unresolved.
By Ademola Adekusibe
About the Author
Ademola Adekusibe is a Nigerian journalist, writer and media professional and the Operations Manager of The Yoruba Times, where he is involved in editorial operations, reporting, media production and digital publishing. His interests span politics, society, culture, identity and the forces shaping Nigeria and Africa.
His work covers journalism, political analysis, reporting, photography, videography and digital media. Through his writing, he examines political developments beyond the immediate headlines, with particular interest in power, institutions, regional dynamics, identity and the changing relationship between African societies and the wider world. His columns seek to provide context, ask difficult questions and examine the deeper forces behind major political and social developments.