A coalition of self-proclaimed experts on the Horn of Africa is currently lobbying the new Trump administration to formally recognize Somaliland and support regime change in Eritrea. These initiatives are championed and propagated by individuals whose primary objective seems to be fostering instability under the pretext of promoting freedom and self-determination for local populations. However, their deeper motivations are evident: they aim to establish dominance over strategically significant regions and exploit the natural resources within these nations.
Somaliland
The region serves as a crucial corridor for international trade and maritime navigation. Amid ongoing geopolitical tensions between Somalia and Ethiopia, there has been significant discourse surrounding the implications of U.S. recognition of Somaliland, particularly in light of strategic military interests in the area. This includes Israel’s establishment of a military base to monitor Iranian activities and its proxies in Yemen.
Proponents argue that U.S. acknowledgment of Somaliland’s independence could be pivotal in curbing Iranian influence in the Horn of Africa. Additionally, it is claimed that such recognition could yield strategic advantages for Ethiopia. However, advocates of these positions often overlook the potential ramifications on regional stability and security dynamics.
Regime Changes in Eritrea
In recent weeks, individuals such as Michael Rubin and Martin Plaut, alongside other proponents of interventionist policies, have demonstrated a concerted effort to advocate for regime change in Eritrea. This campaign includes facilitating the establishment of a government-in-exile that lacks recognition or legitimacy among the Eritrean populace. Furthermore, it provides support to various political opposition groups, some of which have historically called for the territorial disintegration of Eritrea and have aligned themselves with adversarial factions in neighboring countries intent on undermining Eritrean sovereignty.
Certain oppositional factions are effectively instruments used to destabilize and dismantle Eritrea, serving the interests of external actors aiming to erode national unity and undermine Eritrean identity.
One might question the rationale behind their aggressive advocacy for such inherently destructive and intolerable actions. The answer lies in their disregard for the associated costs and ramifications. Their primary concern is narrowly aligned with their own vested interests.
How Should We Confront Them?
International legal frameworks may pose challenges to the Trump administration’s potential recognition of Somaliland. However, historically, U.S. leadership has often prioritized national interests over adherence to international legal standards.
It is crucial for the people of the region to remain critically aware of the narratives and disinformation propagated by those seeking to sow discord among nations, as these tactics often create a conducive environment for exploitation.
While significant reform and transformation of socio-political landscapes are needed across all countries in the region, these changes must originate from the people themselves. Reform processes should be rooted in local communities and led by the citizenry, ensuring ownership and sustainable outcomes. External influences, often motivated by self-serving interests and indifferent to the long-term welfare of these societies, must not dictate the path to reform. Instead, the power to shape these changes should remain firmly in the hands of local stakeholders.
The President of the Federal Republic of Somalia and the Prime Minister of Ethiopia signed a treaty to resolve their dispute stemming from the Memorandum of Understanding between Ethiopia and the secessionist Somaliland in January 2024.
What Was the Ankara Deal?
The Turkey-brokered deal is not yet final or binding, but it represents an agreement by both countries to begin negotiations regarding Ethiopia’s claim for sea access. According to the treaty, both countries agreed to respect each other’s sovereignty and collaborate to find common ground for enhancing commercial and trade exchanges, which would benefit the countries and the region.
What Did the Leaders Say?
Soon after the treaty was signed, Ethiopia’s Prime Minister stated, “Ethiopia respects the territorial integrity and sovereignty of Somalia, but any agreement or deal they make with Somaliland is out of the business of the Republic of Somalia.” This contradictory statement signals that the Ethiopian government may not intend to fully respect the treaty.
Although both leaders affirmed their willingness to talk and resolve disputes, the conflict is far from over, with no significant breakthroughs achieved. Both sides appear to be buying time to strengthen their respective positions for the unresolved issues.
What Will Happen to the Memorandum of Understanding (MoU)?
In the recent election in Somaliland, a new president, Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi Irro, assumed office and nominated a foreign minister known for opposing the Memorandum of Understanding signed by the former administration with Ethiopia. This indicates that the people of Somaliland, an autonomous region, are largely against any deals with Ethiopia. Furthermore, the newly elected president has announced plans to review the agreement, emphasizing its lack of transparency and casting doubt on its validity. The situation remains unclear, but given the region’s history, significant developments could occur.
Regional and Future Perspectives
After the signing of the treaty in Ankara, reports emerged that militias in Jubaland, allegedly supported by Ethiopian soldiers stationed in Somalia since 2006 under the pretext of fighting al-Shabaab, engaged in clashes with the federal army. Unverified reports suggest that several federal government soldiers were killed, with many fleeing to Kenya before returning to Somalia. Concurrently, a delegation from Somalia led by the Foreign Minister arrived in Ethiopia to initiate work on normalizing relations under the Ankara Treaty.
On December 21, 2024, French President Emmanuel Macron visited Ethiopia in what appeared to be a politically motivated move amidst his domestic challenges. The Ethiopian Prime Minister welcomed Macron with an unprecedented ceremony, yet the visit yielded no tangible outcomes. Macron declined to support Ethiopia’s bid for sea access, emphasizing that such matters depend on the consent of sovereign nations, thereby reaffirming international law regarding territorial integrity. This outcome highlighted the Prime Minister’s diplomatic failure.
Subsequently, the Somali President visited Eritrea, following an earlier visit to Mogadishu by Egypt’s Foreign Minister. These visits signal to Ethiopia that Somalia is not diplomatically isolated.
Somali President in Addis Ababa
President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud visited Ethiopia on January 11, 2025, following his attendance at an African agriculture summit in Uganda. His office described the visit as a follow-up to the Ankara Treaty, aiming to resolve disputes and begin technical negotiations by February’s end. However, analysts believe the visit primarily sought to appease Turkish mediators, on whom Somalia heavily relies for security and economic support.
Ethiopia’s Position
Ethiopia appears isolated in its approach, which has been perceived as disingenuous and unacceptable to regional actors. Instead of seeking external and colonial powers’ assistance to destabilize the region, Ethiopia should pursue respectful bilateral agreements to foster mutual growth and stability. The sovereignty of Red Sea nations must remain inviolate.
Conclusion
As 2025 begins, the United States’ regional policy under President Donald Trump remains unclear. The Middle East, particularly Yemen’s ongoing crisis, continues to impact regional geopolitics, with implications for security and stability. Middle-power nations such as Turkey, the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Iran also play crucial roles, while major powers like the European Union, China, and Russia monitor developments closely to safeguard their strategic interests.
The Ankara Treaty underscores the need for African-led solutions to African problems. Organizations such as the African Union and IGAD should have taken the lead in addressing the dispute. Ethiopia must recognize that regional collaboration is the only sustainable path toward peace and prosperity.
Since its inception in 1963, the organization of the African Unity (OAU) and its successor the African Union (AU) has been hosted by Ethiopia. Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia was its first chairman. Among the major pillars of the African Union’s mission is safeguarding the sovereignty and territorial integrity of member states. Affirming commitments to its objectives, in its Cairo Declaration of Article 2 of resolution 16(1), the OAU pledged the independent African states to respect their inherited colonial borders. Through the Cairo declaration, the OAU asserted that colonial borders be a sacrosanct boundary of African countries. In its effort to promote peace and security throughout the continent, the African Union established the Peace and Security Council in December 2003. The specific goal of the Peace and Security Council (PSC) is “prevention, management, and resolution of conflicts”. In line with the above agreements and objectives of the African Union, we will see if Ethiopia deserves to continue hosting the African Union.
ETHIOPIA IS A THREAT TO REGIONAL PEACE.
Somalia.
Contrary to the objectives of the African Union, Ethiopia has been a source of instability in the Horn of Africa region. Following the 1977–1978 border war with Somalia, Ethiopia worked hard to make Somalia a failed state for three decades. In 2006 when Somalis started to organize themselves under the Union of Islamic Courts and begin to bring normalcy to Somalia Ethiopia invaded Somalia. The invasion of Somalia by Ethiopia created Al-Shabaab. In the pretext of fighting Al-Shabaab Ethiopia is still in Somalia. According to the United Nations monitoring group report, Ethiopia coupled with Yemen are the major source of Arms and logistics to Al-Shabaab. Such evidence indicates Ethiopia wants Somalia to remain a failed state.
Eritrea.
After being colonized by Italy for 50 years (1889-1941) and ten years (1941-1951) under the British Interim Administration, the United Nations forced Eritrea to be federated with Ethiopia in 1952. In 1962, Ethiopia’s emperor Haile Selassie unilaterally dissolved the Federation and annexed Eritrea, triggering a 30-year armed struggle in Eritrea. Eritrea which has a distinct flag, parliament, and national boundaries based on the 1900, 1902, and 1908 colonial agreements between Ethiopia and Italy was turned into an administrative region of Ethiopia. Although the annexation of Eritrea happened two years before the 1964 Cairo declaration, it was a clear indication that Ethiopia had not been committed to peace and security in Africa. After 30 years of war and destruction, the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) completely Liberated Eritrea in 1991. Through the UN and the AU monitored referendum Eritrea became an independent country on May 24, 1993. Again, in violation of the 1964 Cairo declaration, in 1998 Ethiopia claimed the Badme region of Eritrea and conducted a two-year devastating war against Eritrea. In 2002 the Eritrea and Ethiopia boundary commission based on the colonial agreements of 1900, 1902, and 1908 declared Badme was an Eritrean territory. Ethiopia rejected the ruling and occupied Badme and other Eritrean territories for twenty years. As a continuation of the Ethiopian leader’s act of undermining colonial boundaries recently the current Prime Minister of Ethiopia Dr. Abiy Ahmed attempted to replace the 1964 Cairo declaration with Ethnic based boundaries. He argued that because the Afar Ethnic group live in both Eritrea and Ethiopia, the Ethiopian Afars should have a say on the Eritrean Red Sea. He continued to say because Somalis live in both Ethiopia and Somalia the Ethiopian Somalis should have a say on the Indian ocean. In violation of the 1964 OAU declaration, he claimed to have a historical right to own a port and corridor to the sea. These statements clearly indicate that Ethiopia is not serious about the 1964 Cairo declaration and the 1982 UN convention or Law of the Sea.
Sudan.
Ethiopia’s continuous border conflict with Sudan in the Alfashaga region also indicates Ethiopia’s lack of commitment to settle international border problems in line with the 1964 Cairo Declaration. When the Tigray war started Sudan reclaimed what it called land that was occupied by Ethiopia. The border problem between Sudan and Ethiopia is a dormant conflict that could erupt at any time.
ETHIOPIA HAS A LONG HISTORY OF VIOLENT REGIME CHANGES AND PERSISTENT CONFLICTS.
Focusing on the history of modern Ethiopia, Emperor Haile Selassie, the first OAU chairman, was overthrown in a violent military coup by a Marxist–Leninist junta, the Derg. On the morning of 23 November 1974, the Derg executed 54 Haile Selassie’s Ministers, and six were killed in a shootout with the executioners. Haile Selassie was assassinated on 27 August 1975 by the then Ethiopian Military Junta. The catastrophic famine of 1983–1985 was what brought the Derg junta government the most international attention. Mengistu’s government is estimated to be responsible for the deaths of 500,000 to 2,000,000 Ethiopians, mostly during the 1983–1985 famine in Ethiopia and close to 750, 000 people due to the red terror execution of civilians. Consistent with what the Derg military Junta did to Haile Selassie, after waging a war for 17 years, the Tigray Liberation Front (TPLF) toppled the Derg Marxist Leninist Junta in 1991. Although the TPLF is credited with what resembles to an economic change in Ethiopia, the ethnic-based federalism system it established continues to be a time bomb in Ethiopia. Ethnic conflicts in Ethiopia are believed to have killed close to two million and displaced five million Ethiopians. The Oromo and Amhara youth uprising toppled the Tigray liberation front-led government in 1998 and brought the current Prime Minister, Dr. Abiy Ahmed, to power. Although in the beginning, the transition of power seemed peaceful it was followed by a deadly conflict between the Ethiopian Federal Government and the TPLF. The conflict resulted in the death of close to two million people in Tigray, Amhara, and Afar and the widespread destruction of property and infrastructure. Regardless of the ongoing wars in Amhara and Oromo, recently the Prime Minister of Ethiopia Dr. Abiy Ahmed made a dangerous speech to his parliament that could destabilize the whole Horn of Africa region. Ethiopian leaders continue to have a strong appetite for war, and they do not seem to survive without it.
CONCLUSION.
The saddest part of the story is a leader, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, whom Ethiopians and people of the neighboring countries hoped would change the trajectory of war and conflicts in Ethiopia and received a noble prize has become the prime instigator of war in Ethiopia. On top of the ongoing wars in Amhara and Oromo and the dormant deadly conflict in Tigray currently, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed is eying an invasion of neighboring countries, especially Eritrea. Therefore, Ethiopia’s continuous disregard for the 1964 Cairo declaration on colonial boundaries and its persistent internal conflicts do not reflect the values of the African Union. In fact, the Ethiopian utter disregard for the African Union’s declarations and agreements is making the African Union weaker and partial. The recent threat of the Prime Minister on neighboring countries should be a warning bell to the African Union. If Ethiopia continues to undermine the African Union’s declarations and agreements, it may be disqualifying itself from continuing to be the host of the African Union. It is time for the AU and its member states to send a strong warning to Ethiopia.
Those who listened to the recent interview General Tsadkan gave to the Ethiopian Prosperity Party-controlled media can’t help but scratch their heads. The interview indicates that he is very desperate, eager to seize power, and as usual, planning revenge. Especially his narration of the 1998-2000 Ethio-Eritrea border war, his decision to invade Eritrean sovereign territory, Assab, and how it all ended are full of lies and contradictions. Now he has a new horse called a prosperity party, and he would do anything to use it to climb to power. Fortunately, almost all of his past attempts ended in failure, and his current attempt may even end badly. To understand Tsadkan’s downward spiral from power and his repetitive failed attempts to come back, we need to dig a little deeper.
He was chief of staff of the Ethiopian Defense Forces (ENDF) from 1991 to 1998.
When the border problem between Eritrea and Ethiopia started in Badme and Bada areas (1996–1998), he was the chief of staff of the Ethiopian Defense Forces. He was also a member of the Ethio-Eritrean committee tasked to resolve the border problem before it erupted into a full-fledged war. Right before the full-fledged war, he oversaw the brigade that crossed into Eritrea through Adi Murug (Bada) and dismantled the Eritrean administration, closed schools, and expelled teachers from the area. His friend Gebru Asrat was the president of the Tigray region, doing his bidding in the border areas. Both, stationed in Addis Ababa, are still beating the drums of war. Thus, we can safely conclude that General Tsadkan was the architect of the 1998–2000 Ethio-Eritrea border war that led to the perishing of 100,000 Ethiopian soldiers.
During the 1998–2000 Ethio-Eritrea War
During the 1998–2000 Ethio-Eritrea border war, General Tsadkan planned to attack Eritrea on the Tserona front, Egri Mekel. He intended to break the Eritrean defense line using close to 12,000 infantry, 5,000 Tigrayan civilians with donkeys, and a large 20th mechanized division. As written by General Yohannes Gebremeskel and by Tesfaye Gebreab, it was carnage.
After the war ended in a complete defeat, General Tsadkan himself said, “I led many battles in my career. I have fought in many wars. I have seen a lot. I have never experienced this kind of utter failure. It is bad.” His army was decimated, and Tsadkan had to flee ten miles away to save his life, crying on the way.
In a war review conducted in Infara (Tigray), General Tsadkan’s crying continued, and it was decided he should be fired and gradually pass his position to General Samora Yonus. In revenge for his defeat in Egri Mekel, Tsadkan ordered his army to rape Eritrean women in Kohito and other areas around Senafe, Eritrea. Such crimes are documented in the Red Cross office in Geneva, Switzerland.
Also, after losing hope in his plan to march to Asmara, the capital city of Eritrea, Tsadkan ordered the capture the port city of Assab. Recently, Tsadkan gave an interview to the Ethiopian government-owned media about his decision to do so. His interview was full of lies and exaggerations. Let’s expose his lies one by one.
1. He claimed that the Ethiopian Army pushed the Eritrean Army up to 18 km from Assab.
Tsadkan knows that that did not happen. The Eritrean Army withdrew from the Bure front, 71 Kms away from Assab, after the Eritrean government accepted the Mediator’s proposal that required Eritrea to leave 25 miles demilitarized zone between the two countries. However, in violation of the agreement, the Ethiopian army followed the withdrawing Eritrean Army and launched an attack. So, the Ethiopian Army did not push the Eritrean Army, and Tsdakan was telling a lie.
2. He blamed Meles for stopping the war in Assab.
Gebru Asrat’s book clearly indicated that the attack on Assab was launched after Meles declared the war was over. Meles declared the war was over on June 1st, 2000, and the war in Assab continued till June 17. According to Gebru’s book, individuals in the TPLF who were not happy with the war ordered the attack. Previously, Tsadkan himself admitted ordering the attack; thus, Gebru was referring to Tsadkan. Also, Herman Cohen, the then Undersecretary in the US State Department indicated that the Ethiopian side asked the mediators preparing the signing of the secession of hostilities in Algeria to delay it by a few days so that the Ethiopian Army could occupy Assab and gain an upper position in the negotiation. The attack ended in a disastrous defeat of the Ethiopian invading army and Ethiopia was forced to sign the cessation of hostilities agreement on June 18, 2000. Gebru also described the humiliating defeat in Assab, but still, he tried to blame Meless. Now Tsadkan wants to try again. “You cannot teach an old dog a new trick.”
After the 1998–2000 Border War
After being dismissed as chief of staff, General Tsadkan acquired substantial wealth, raising questions regarding its source. Despite having a limited pension, he acquired properties, including villas in Addis Ababa and shares in a Tigray beer factory. Some speculate this wealth resulted from activities during or after the war, but details and evidence remain unclear.
During the 2020–2022 Tigray War
Up to the time leading to the Qeerroo (Oromo youth) revolt that expelled the TPLF from the federal government seat in Addis Ababa, General Tsadkan was writing articles supporting the revolt against the TPLF. Later, he became a regular in Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s office.
Surprisingly, when Ethiopia and Eritrea made peace, Tsadkan reversed course, fled to Tigray, and became one of the top people who secretly decided and planned the gruesome attack on the Northern Command. This attack sparked the Tigray War and led to the immense suffering of the Tigrayan people. If Tsadkan was an Ethiopian Nationalist, why did he conspire to attack the Ethiopian National Defense forces he once led?
After the TPLF army entered Mekelle, June 28th, 2021, and continued its attack on the Ethiopian Army, Tsadkan was sure he was going to capture the Federal Government Seat, Addis Ababa, and realize his long dream to be the Prime Minister of Ethiopia. He declared no negotiation with the Prosperity Party because, in his mind, the war was ending. Surprisingly, the TPLF army was defeated and had to return to Tigray. Again, Tsadkan blamed the TPLF and America for their defeat.
Pretoria Agreement and Tsadkan’s Unfulfilled Wishes
After the 2020–2022 devastating Tigray war, the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) signed a peace agreement on November 2, 2022, in Pretoria, South Africa. The peace agreement required the establishment of a provisional government in the Tigray region of Ethiopia. When the selection of the members of the provisional government started, General Tsadkan, who made a name for himself by claiming to be a leader of the Tigray Defense Force (TDF), was rejected by the army. Yet GSTS (Tigrayan Scholars in Diaspora) and their bosses in the Prosperity Party brought him to the Tigray for provisional administration as their representative. Equipped with the Endorsement, he was ready to destroy the Tigrayan social fabric and create a very dangerous political turmoil in Tigray. The brazen move by the Tsadkan and its readiness to throw Tigray into a sub-regional conflict is very scary, to say the least. The late Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles Zenawi’s decision to expel Tsadkan, from the Army and the TPLF was right, and the TPLF should have seen the dangers of bringing him to power.
He requested the Deployment of the Ethiopian Army to places bordering Eritrea.
In his new book titled “Azurit”, another senior inner-circle Tigrayan general, Yohannes Gebremeskel, lists General Tsadkan among the few Tigrayans who secretly met, decided, and planned an attack on the Northern Command. The Northern Command was attacked by 200,000 Tigray Special Forces and militia on November 4, 2020. General Tsadkan, who was fired by Meles Zenawi for his dismal war planning in the Tserona front during the 1998–2000 Ethio-Eritrea border war, was very eager to return to power not only in Tigray but also in the federal government. The irony is that the Northern Command, which he decided and planned to attack and dismantle, was called by him to come to the Ethiopian Eritrean border to protect him from the TPLF and TPLF-loyal generals. Why was General Tsadkan, who built his name as a leader of the TDF during the 2020–2022 Tigray War, afraid of the TDF?
After he fled from Tigray in 2025.
After realizing that his sinister agenda to grab power in Tigray failed, he fled to the United States. General Tsadkan has already moved his family to the United States. While he is conspiring to ignite wars in Ethiopia, his children are graduating from reputable and expensive colleges in the USA. After he made sure that the relationship between Eritrea and Ethiopia was battered, he returned from the US to Ethiopia, and currently he is continuing his old and failed project to dismantle Tigray and hoping to ignite war between Eritrea and Ethiopia. Tsadkan, who secretly conspired and planned an attack on the Ethiopian defense forces, is now in Addis Ababa, instigating another war between Eritrea and Ethiopia. People may think that this can only happen in a movie. Yet, unfortunately, this is a reality in Ethiopian politics.
Conclusion: –
Tsadkan’s agenda is laced with revenge and greed for power. Will he succeed? Time will tell. One thing is clear, though. It would not be long before he packs and flees to the US for good. I mean, if he is lucky. Otherwise, the prosperity party may decide to take action before he flees. It is highly likely that this time he may not be as lucky as before.
The Rhetoric of Endings: Confusing Loss with Disappearance
In his latest Facebook post, Nasser Omer Ali offers a lucid reflection on an increasingly central tension in Ethiopian political discourse: the tendency to conflate strategic threats with existential ones. The occasion is the release of a new musical work by Teddy Afro, which reached millions of listeners within hours and immediately became a public event in its own right. The line that drew the most attention, evoking the rupture of a shared national rhythm, captures a widespread sense of fracture and discontinuity. But it is precisely here that a profound misreading takes hold. The perception of loss is rapidly translated into a diagnosis of national death. When a particular idea of Ethiopia is called into question, when power balances shift or established narratives are contested, the experience can feel like a shock. Yet a political shock is not the same as the disappearance of a political community. Collapsing these two registers narrows the space of the possible and transforms every change into an absolute threat. In this way, the language of crisis does not merely describe reality but actively constructs it, feeding a spiral in which every transformation is perceived as a step toward collapse.
The Absence of Trust and the Role of Institutions
To understand why this language proves so tenacious, a comparative perspective is useful. The European case offers a significant example of how the perception of threat can be transformed over time. After centuries of conflict, and above all after the Second World War, the countries of Europe arrived at a shared recognition that war among themselves could no longer be tolerated. This evolution has its roots in a long intellectual tradition reaching back to Immanuel Kant, but it was made concretely possible by the devastation of the twentieth century and by the support of the United States. From this process emerged first the European Community and then the European Union, marking a passage from a system grounded in competition to one oriented toward cooperation. In this framework, security gradually became a shared concern. In the Horn of Africa, by contrast, no comparable process has ever taken hold. In Ethiopia, political change is frequently experienced as an existential threat, while in Eritrea a mirror logic prevails, one in which any transformation is seen as a risk sufficient to justify its indefinite postponement. In one case, the nation appears to be dying because power is changing hands. In the other, the nation is held to survive precisely by preventing power from changing at all. Different contexts, the same inability to distinguish between stability and stasis. Without institutions capable of generating trust, every political shift becomes suspect and every transformation risks being read as a radical menace.
Art, Memory, and the Construction of Identity
Against this backdrop, the role of art becomes critically important. Teddy Afro is not merely a successful musician; he is a figure who exerts a profound influence on public language and collective imagination. In his earlier work, he has repeatedly drawn on the symbolism of the Ethiopian emperors, reinforcing a narrative centred on historical greatness and national continuity. This is not a neutral choice. While it resonates with and gives voice to widely shared anxieties, it also risks feeding precisely the kind of singular, totalising vision of identity that is part of the problem. In a country marked by a mosaic of diversity, art cannot be placed in the service of a self-founding national narrative, nor can it become an instrument for legitimising the centrality of one dominant group over others. An artist, precisely because of his influence, should create room for freedom, encourage encounter, and celebrate plurality. From an anthropological standpoint, identities are always multiple and in transformation. Cultures are not closed systems but dynamic realities built through continuous exchange. In this respect, the contribution of Amartya Sen is particularly relevant. In his volume Identity and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny, published in 2006 by W. W. Norton and Company, Sen demonstrates how the reduction of identity to a single dimension is one of the primary sources of conflict. The case of the India-Pakistan partition shows how a rigid identity paradigm can produce deep and lasting fractures. Applied to the Ethiopian context, this suggests that the problem is not diversity itself, but the way in which it is narrated and organised politically.
From Fear to Strategic Clarity
If the crisis is at once institutional and linguistic, its resolution calls for a shift in perspective. Nasser Omer Ali’s analysis brings to light how the dominant narratives, however opposed they may appear, share a common premise. In Ethiopia, the argument runs that the nation is in danger because power is in transformation. In Eritrea, the argument runs in reverse: the permanence of power is legitimised precisely in the name of avoiding any transformation that might be perceived as destabilising. In both cases, the existence of the nation is made to coincide with a specific configuration of power. It is this equivalence that must be overcome. A nation is not a regime, nor a dominant group, nor a single historical narrative. It is an open process, capable of adapting, of renegotiating its own equilibria, and of making room for new forms of belonging. Moving from the politics of existential fear to a politics of strategic clarity means learning to distinguish between what genuinely threatens collective survival and what represents instead a shift in the distribution of power. It also means building institutions that make change predictable and therefore less traumatic. Without this, societies risk remaining trapped in a spiral in which every transformation produces new fears and every fear justifies new closures. The Horn of Africa stands today before a crucial choice: to continue interpreting change as an existential threat, or to begin constructing the conditions for a coexistence grounded in trust, plurality, and cooperation. That is where the possibility of a different future resides.
For nearly eighty years, American foreign policy has oscillated between sweeping global ambitions and consistently disappointing results. The gap is hard to ignore. No other power has ever assembled a comparable concentration of resources devoted to strategic planning. Elite universities, research institutions, sophisticated military establishments, intelligence agencies, and think tanks work continuously on the analysis of international scenarios. Layer on top of that advanced modeling, simulation, and theoretical frameworks such as game theory.
And yet the overall record remains defined by repeated failure. From Vietnam to Iraq, through Afghanistan and more recent crises, the same difficulty keeps resurfacing: an inability to convert material superiority into durable political outcomes. The argument here is not that the United States lacks competence, but that the competence it possesses is systematically misapplied. Decision-making appears fragmented, shaped by competing interests, and driven by an enduring overconfidence in the ability to manage complexity.
SUEZ AS A REVEALING EXCEPTION
The 1956 Suez Crisis stands as a rare counterexample — one of the few moments in its postwar history when American foreign policy displayed a strategic clarity it has rarely managed at any other point. By siding against France and Britain, and finding a point of convergence with the Soviet Union, Washington helped bring the curtain down on European colonial ambition in the region. This was not idealism. It was a coherent expression of realist national interest: supporting the old colonial powers would have weakened America’s standing in the emerging world and handed an advantage to its principal rival.
The episode demonstrates that a more selective and self-aware foreign policy was achievable. That is precisely why it remains an outlier. In the decades that followed, the capacity to read international balances of power steadily eroded, giving way to interventions driven more by political impulse and ideological momentum than by any clear ordering of priorities.
SOPHISTICATED THEORY, DISTORTED DECISIONS
One of the more striking features of this record is the distance between the quality of analysis and the weakness of the decisions that follow from it. Many of the foundational theories of international relations were developed in the United States and continue to be refined there. Realism counsels restraint and an honest reckoning with the limits of power; rational choice theory and game theory both presuppose coherence in the pursuit of objectives.
In practice, however, these frameworks are routinely ignored or applied selectively. Decision-making is shaped by inter-agency competition, bureaucratic inertia, and short electoral cycles. Decisions are not the product of a unified rational actor but of negotiated compromises among institutions with divergent interests. In this environment, even the most rigorous analysis tends to be diluted or reframed to fit the moment. The problem is not the absence of rationality but its dispersal.
THE MIDDLE EAST AND THE REPETITION OF ERROR
The Middle East provides the clearest illustration of this pattern. The invasion of Iraq destabilized the regional order and produced consequences directly contrary to its stated aims. The Afghanistan experience demonstrated how difficult it is to build functioning institutions in radically unfamiliar contexts. More recently, the decision to align American policy with the Israeli government’s posture toward Iran — an alignment that amounts to reckless aggression — represents a further step in this accumulation of self-inflicted failures.
Rather than consolidating its position, Washington has contributed to escalating tension while steadily narrowing the space for diplomatic resolution. The paradox repeats itself: the United States neglects its allies, then turns to them for support in managing crises it helped generate. The pattern holds — ambitious objectives, uncertain execution, counterproductive results, and eventual retreat.
INTERNAL INCENTIVES AND THE LIMITS OF POWER
The deeper causes of this pattern lie in structural features of American domestic politics that are difficult to override. The political system is calibrated for short-term decision-making, routinely driven by electoral and media imperatives. The relationship between policymakers and analytical expertise remains dysfunctional. Analysis is produced in abundance but rarely drives final decisions. The military-industrial complex creates persistent pressure to reach for military instruments even when they are not the most effective ones available.
Compounding all of this is a stubborn belief in the controllability of events. Recent history consistently demonstrates otherwise: complex environments, local dynamics, and cultural factors place sharp limits on what external intervention can achieve. Military superiority does not translate into lasting political results. What emerges is the portrait of a power capable of analyzing the world with considerable precision, yet far less capable of turning that knowledge into coherent action. The recurrence of these failures is not accidental. It is structural — and for that reason it will keep repeating.
Stand on the waterfront in Massawa on any given morning and you understand something that no satellite map can fully convey. The Red Sea is not just water. It is air. It is bread. It is the entire reason anyone ever cared that Eritrea existed. The sun comes up over the strait, the dhows move slowly against the horizon, and the port hums with the quiet logic of a country that has, for thirty years, tried to survive at the intersection of other people’s ambitions.
That intersection is now at the center of one of the most consequential and most fragile diplomatic moments of this decade. And to understand what is happening — not the headline version, but the structural version — you have to start somewhere most analysts refuse to start: with the world that made this conflict possible in the first place.
Stand on the waterfront in Massawa on any given morning and you understand something that no satellite map can fully convey. The Red Sea is not just water. It is air. It is bread. It is the entire reason anyone ever cared that Eritrea existed. The sun comes up over the strait, the dhows move slowly against the horizon, and the port hums with the quiet logic of a country that has, for thirty years, tried to survive at the intersection of other people’s ambitions.
That intersection is now at the center of one of the most consequential and most fragile diplomatic moments of this decade. And to understand what is happening — not the headline version, but the structural version — you have to start somewhere most analysts refuse to start: with the world that made this conflict possible in the first place.
To understand Eritrea’s position in this moment, you have to understand what thirty years of the unipolar world order actually meant for countries that didn’t fit its blueprint.
Eritrea gained independence in 1993 after a thirty-year liberation war — one of the longest and most brutal anti-colonial struggles in African history. It emerged into a world that had just declared itself organized: one superpower, one dominant set of institutions, one framework for what a “legitimate” state looked like and who got to decide. Small nations that complied received investment, security assurances, and access to markets. Small nations that didn’t were sanctioned, isolated, and described in the language of instability and rogue behavior.
Eritrea, from the beginning, refused to comply on terms it considered demeaning to its sovereignty. That refusal had real costs. In 2009, the United Nations — under significant American pressure — imposed sanctions on Eritrea, accusing it of supporting al-Shabaab in Somalia. Eritrea denied the charges, and independent analysts raised serious doubts about the evidence. The sanctions stayed for nearly a decade. Investment dried up. Debt mounted. The economy that should have been built — the one that might have given young Eritreans a reason to stay — was never built. Today, more than 660,000 Eritreans, roughly one in five citizens, live in exile. They did not leave because of geography. They left because the economic ground under them was never allowed to solidify.
This is what the unipolar order looked like from the receiving end. Not the version described in Washington think tanks or Brussels policy papers — the version experienced in Asmara, in Massawa, in the lives of people who watched opportunities disappear under the weight of external pressure that was applied not because Eritrea was a threat to anyone, but because it would not be managed.
When the West withdrew, others filled the space. That is not a moral argument for any particular partnership. It is simply what happens when a country is pushed to the margins and then expected to survive anyway. Russia arrived at Massawa. The UAE set up at Assab. Iran, which had its own long, intimate familiarity with the experience of being sanctioned into a corner, rebuilt relationships it had cultivated since the early 2000s. China watched from a careful distance, investing in infrastructure, asking few questions about governance, offering the kind of transactional partnership that the Western-led order had always withheld.
None of these relationships were born of ideology. They were born of exclusion. That is a crucial distinction that the Western media — which spent this war analyzing Iranian logistics routes in Eritrean ports as though they appeared from nowhere — almost entirely failed to make.
The ceasefire itself, fragile as it is, carries the same structural story.
Iran’s Strait of Hormuz remained largely closed as of Thursday morning, which was the core U.S. condition for the truce — unmet on day one. Israel endorsed the ceasefire with one hand and with the other launched the single deadliest day of airstrikes on Lebanon in the entire war, killing at least 254 people. Hezbollah warned that if Israel doesn’t stop, “no party will adhere” to the truce. Iran’s IRGC said it would keep its “fingers on the trigger.” An Israeli-made surveillance drone was shot down over Iranian airspace within hours. Iran’s parliament speaker accused the United States of violating three clauses of the agreed framework before the first day was over.
What we are watching is not peace. It is two exhausted powers being separated by a referee neither fully trusts, standing in their corners, breathing hard, each claiming victory, neither willing to give ground on the things that actually matter.
The Lebanon question is the most revealing fault line. Iran insists the ceasefire must cover Lebanon, where Hezbollah is being devastated by Israeli strikes. Israel and the United States insist it does not. This is not a dispute about contract language. It is the central contradiction of the entire deal laid bare: the United States negotiated a pause in one theater while its closest ally continued full operations in another, and then expressed surprise that the other side found this unreasonable. Former Biden Iran envoy Robert Malley said the negotiations are “commencing on very shaky foundations.” That is diplomatic understatement for a deal assembled under a midnight deadline, announced on social media, and contested within hours of going into effect.
Vice President JD Vance will lead the U.S. delegation to Islamabad on Saturday alongside Witkoff and Kushner, with Iran’s delegation already traveling. Pakistan will host. That image — the United States negotiating under Pakistani facilitation, on Pakistani soil, over a conflict it launched — would have been unthinkable in the high noon of the unipolar era. It is the architecture of the emerging order, visible in a single diplomatic itinerary.
For Eritrea, the stakes of what happens in Islamabad are not abstract. They are coastal, economic, and existential.
The Bab el-Mandeb Strait — the 18-mile chokepoint where the Red Sea narrows into the Gulf of Aden — runs directly past Eritrea’s southern shore. Before this war, roughly a fifth of the world’s maritime trade passed through it every day. The war shut that down. Shipping companies rerouted around the Cape of Good Hope, adding two weeks and up to 40 percent to the cost of moving goods between Asia and Europe. Eritrea’s ports, which might have benefited from increased regional trade, instead sat in the shadow of a conflict that treated the entire Red Sea as a war zone.
If the ceasefire holds and evolves into a genuine agreement, those shipping lanes reopen. Eritrea’s geographic position — which the unipolar order treated as a liability to be managed — becomes an asset in a multipolar world that values connectivity over control. The ports of Assab and Massawa could become exactly what they were always meant to be: commercial gateways on one of the world’s most important waterways. There is real economic hope in that scenario, for a country that has been waiting thirty years for its geography to work in its favor rather than against it.
If the ceasefire collapses — if Trump follows through on his warning of “bigger and better” attacks, if the Islamabad talks fail, if the Lebanon contradiction tears the deal apart before it has any chance to breathe — then the Red Sea becomes a war zone again, the shipping lanes stay closed, and Eritrea absorbs costs it had no role in creating. Small nations on the margins of great power conflicts do not get to choose their exposure. They inherit it.
This is not a story unique to Eritrea. It is the story of dozens of countries across Africa, Asia, and Latin America that spent thirty years being told the unipolar order was the only order, that compliance was the only option, and that their sovereignty was negotiable whenever Washington decided it needed to be. Iran lived that story. So did Venezuela, Cuba, Syria, Zimbabwe, North Korea, and many others. Each found its own way to survive outside the system. The partnerships those countries formed with each other were not products of shared ideology — they were products of shared exclusion.
What the world is now witnessing, in the chaos and the fragility and the Pakistani mediation and the competing 10-point proposals, is the settlement of that thirty-year account. The unipolar order built its power on the assumption that it could sanction, isolate, and bomb its way to compliance. The Iran war is the moment that assumption was tested against reality — and found wanting.
There is one more dimension that never quite makes it into the international coverage, and it matters enormously to the people who actually live in Eritrea.
Ordinary Eritreans did not design their country’s foreign policy. They did not choose which powers arrived at their ports or what those powers brought with them. What they did was endure — decades of conscription, economic stagnation, restricted movement, and a diplomatic isolation imposed from outside as much as it was constructed from within. The international sanctions that contributed to that isolation were not applied because Eritrea was a danger to global peace. They were applied because Eritrea would not be compliant, and the unipolar order had very little patience for small countries that insisted on their own terms.
Over 660,000 Eritreans live outside their country today. They are not economic migrants in any comfortable sense of the phrase. They are the human cost of a system that punished sovereignty and then expressed shock when the people trapped inside it tried to leave.
The world watches Pakistan broker a ceasefire between two powers who each believe they won. Egypt calls it a “vital opportunity.” Malaysia calls it a “significant advancement.” The Pope called Trump’s threats to obliterate Iranian civilization “truly unacceptable” — a sentence that would have been extraordinary in any previous decade and passed almost without comment in this one. Trump kept all U.S. military forces stationed around Iran, warning that the “real agreement” must be fully complied with — the language of a power that has not yet fully absorbed the idea that the world has changed.
In Eritrea, people go to Massawa, watch the water, and wait. They have been waiting a long time — not for permission from anyone, but for the moment when the world finally becomes what it has been slowly, painfully becoming: a place where more than one set of interests counts, where more than one kind of legitimacy is recognized, where countries that fought for their independence and paid dearly for it are finally allowed to exist on their own terms.
That world is not here yet. The ceasefire is fragile. Islamabad may produce an agreement or it may produce another impasse. But the fact that it is happening in Islamabad, brokered by Pakistan, between parties whose conflict shook the foundations of a thirty-year order — that is not a detail. That is the headline. That is the story.
The unipolar world is settling its debts. Countries like Eritrea, who paid those debts without incurring them, are watching from the shore — and for the first time in a long time, what happens next is genuinely open.
The African Union’s decision to appoint former Tanzanian president Jakaya Kikwete as High Representative for the Horn of Africa and the Red Sea comes at a difficult moment for the region. The AU says his task will be to support preventive diplomacy, political dialogue, confidence-building, and coordination with regional and international bodies working on peace and security.
That sounds straightforward on paper. In reality, he is stepping into one of the most tense and crowded political theaters in Africa.
The Horn of Africa and the Red Sea are no longer separate security spaces. What happens on land now quickly affects the sea, and what happens at sea quickly affects politics on land. A war in Sudan can shake Red Sea port security. Attacks on commercial shipping near Bab el-Mandeb can disrupt trade routes, raise costs, and increase outside military activity. A dispute over port access in one corner of the region can trigger diplomatic pressure, military partnerships, and competing alliances somewhere else. Everything is connected now, and that is what makes the region so difficult to manage.
For Eritrea, this matters in very practical ways. The issue is not only war or peace in the abstract. It is sovereignty. It is whether outside powers and larger neighboring states use regional instability to push political agendas, military presence, or pressure over ports and sea access. It is also about coastal security, trade resilience, and protecting the country from being dragged into conflicts that do not serve Eritrean interests.
The danger today is coming from many directions at once. Sudan remains one of the biggest sources of instability in the western Red Sea corridor. The war there has created armed supply routes, mass displacement, and new opportunities for outside powers seeking influence along the coast. In the east, the aftershocks of Ethiopia’s push for maritime access continue to shape politics between Addis Ababa, Mogadishu, and Somaliland. In the wider Red Sea, attacks on shipping and the growing use of drones and missiles have shown how quickly maritime insecurity can disrupt global trade and attract foreign military responses.
This is the environment Kikwete now has to work in.
He is not arriving as a commander with enforcement power. He is arriving as a political coordinator. That distinction matters. His role is to talk, align, persuade, calm tensions, and reduce diplomatic fragmentation. He can help create channels between governments. He can encourage confidence-building steps. He can help reduce the number of competing mediation tracks that often allow armed actors to play one platform against another. But he cannot impose solutions by force, and that limits what even a skilled envoy can achieve.
Still, Kikwete is not without assets.
He is a former head of state with long experience in government and diplomacy. He served as president of Tanzania from 2005 to 2015 and held senior ministerial roles before that. He has also worked in AU-related diplomacy before, including as AU High Representative for Libya. Those experiences give him credibility, access, and familiarity with the slow, difficult work of mediation. He knows how continental diplomacy functions. He knows how to speak to presidents, ministers, donors, and institutions. That gives him a level of reach that many ordinary envoys do not have.
But experience alone will not make him effective.
His biggest challenge will be the region itself. The Horn is full of overlapping crises, and each one has its own local actors, outside backers, and political sensitivities. Sudan is burning. Somalia remains fragile. Ethiopia’s regional ambitions continue to create anxiety. Djibouti remains a center of foreign military competition. Gulf states, Turkey, the United States, China, the European Union, Russia, Iran, and Israel all have interests tied in one way or another to the Red Sea corridor. In such an environment, peace efforts often do not fail because there is no envoy. They fail because too many actors want different outcomes.
That is why Kikwete’s real test will be whether he can reduce political noise and produce practical risk reduction.
If he is effective, it will probably not be because he delivers one dramatic grand bargain. It will be because he helps lower the temperature. He may be able to encourage quiet diplomacy between states that no longer trust each other. He may help create rules or understandings around incidents at sea, along borders, or near ports. He may help bring more coherence between the AU, IGAD, the UN, and Arab institutions that often work in parallel instead of together. In a region this volatile, even modest diplomatic order can have real value.
From an Eritrean point of view, however, engagement must be cautious and clear-eyed.
Any regional framework that ignores sovereignty, rewards pressure politics, or normalizes aggressive narratives about access to the Red Sea will not bring stability. It will deepen mistrust. Eritrea therefore has a strong interest in engaging Kikwete’s office early, firmly, and on clear principles: respect for sovereignty, rejection of coercive sea-access politics, non-interference, and equal treatment of littoral states. If the AU wants confidence-building, it must begin from those principles, not from the idea that smaller states should absorb the demands of larger ones in the name of regional compromise.
That is also where Kikwete’s neutrality will be tested. In theory, he is expected to serve peace. In practice, every envoy operates inside institutional and political pressure. The AU wants unity. External partners want stability on their terms. Powerful states want their interests protected. Smaller states want guarantees that “dialogue” will not become a polite word for pressure. Kikwete will have to navigate all of that. His success will depend not only on his skill, but on whether he can convince the region that he is there to reduce danger, not to package it more elegantly.
The Horn of Africa does not need more diplomatic ceremony. It needs disciplined, honest engagement rooted in reality. It needs less fragmentation, fewer proxy games, and more respect for the security concerns of states that sit directly on the fault lines of the Red Sea.
Kikwete brings stature and experience to the job. That gives the AU a chance. But in a region shaped by war, rivalry, and outside competition, the real measure of his work will be simple: can he help prevent the next crisis from becoming a larger one?
For Eritrea, that is the question that matters most.
Since the opening of hostilities with Iran — now entering its fourth week — commentators and analysts across the world have scrambled to explain the American decision to open a confrontation of this scale. No convincing answer has emerged. Interpretations have piled up without a common thread: some pointed to subservience to Israel, others to Trump’s improvisation, his private financial entanglements, or the long-term strategic rivalry with China. All plausible readings; none fully satisfying.
It may be worth considering a different hypothesis: that the rationale exists, but has been deliberately constructed to remain invisible. The apparent confusion, the contradictory statements, the ill-timed remarks may not be signs of improvisation at all, but elements of a deliberate strategy — keeping public opinion off-balance while the war machine does its work. Buying time. Or, in the older metaphor, boiling the frog.
II. A long war, perhaps planned from the start
By the twenty-first day of the conflict, American military operations display a continuity that leaves little room for short-term improvisation. Reports filtering through established channels suggest troop movements toward the theater of operations that would require weeks on logistics alone. Two readings are possible. The first: Washington found itself more bogged down than expected and is now struggling to adapt. The second: a long war was always the plan, and the opening weeks were designed to ease domestic and international opinion into accepting the conflict’s existence.
The two are not mutually exclusive, but the second receives far less attention than it deserves. It is also worth noting that the charge of irrationality is leveled almost exclusively at the United States, rarely at Israel, whose objectives are considerably clearer. But what Israel wants from this war and what Washington wants may be two very different things, with strategies that only partially overlap. This distinction matters: conflating them obscures both.
III. Trump is the face. The strategy runs deeper.
Here is where the two readings converge into something more troubling. If Washington’s aims cannot be fully explained by the immediate military objectives, it may be because those objectives are not, in fact, the primary target. The real aim of American strategy may not be Iran at all, but the international system as a whole. Not military conquest, but something more subtle: weakening the rest of the world enough to make America look stronger — even without America having actually become stronger. Relative power is what counts, not absolute strength. If the others fall back, you move forward regardless.
It would be a mistake, though, to pin this reading on Trump alone. Trump is the visible face of a much broader and more durable coalition of interests. Behind him stands the military-industrial complex, which thrives on prolonged conflict. There are the major technology platforms and figures like Peter Thiel, who have openly invested in an alternative vision of the global political order. There are investment funds with strategic exposure to energy and commodities that benefit directly from instability. These are structures that do not depend on electoral cycles and that plan on decade-long horizons.
The logic behind all this is what Schumpeter called creative destruction: collapsing a system in order to create the conditions for building a new one. The concrete signals are already visible. China has suspended fertilizer exports, with potentially severe consequences for global food production. The damage to energy infrastructure in the Gulf will be measured in years, not months. Sovereign debts under strain, weakened currencies, fractured supply chains: not an explosion, but a slow, silent erosion — the kind that is hardest to stop precisely because it is hardest to see.
IV. The slow catastrophe, and who benefits from its invisibility
The outcome of this process, if the hypothesis holds, would not be a world defeated militarily. It would be a tired world — disoriented, too consumed by its own crises to mount any credible alternative to American hegemony. The deterioration would be incremental, with no single dramatic moment to point to as the break. That is precisely the mechanism of the boiling frog: there is never a clear moment to push back, because each individual step seems survivable on its own.
In that scenario, the United States would emerge with a significant relative advantage — not necessarily richer or stronger in absolute terms, but surrounded by a weaker, more dependent world, more willing to accept Washington’s terms. A hegemony no longer built on persuasion or multilateral institutions, but on hard power, undisguised and unapologetic.
There would be domestic costs: economic strain, likely electoral losses in the midterms, institutional friction. But this is where the picture grows genuinely disturbing. Several figures in the coalition around Trump have shown sustained interest in restructuring American institutional constraints themselves — not merely in winning within the system, but in rewriting the rules that govern it. The domestic and international projects may be two dimensions of the same ambition.
What we may be witnessing, then, is not the chaos of a miscalculated war. It is the first phase — deliberately opaque — of an attempt to redraw the global distribution of power. The confusion is not a bug. It is load-bearing. This is a hypothesis, not a verdict. But some hypotheses deserve to be taken seriously. Especially the ones we would rather not consider.
May this blessed day bring peace, strength, and unity to your families and communities. May it be a time of reflection, dignity, and hope for a better future.
There are moments in history when a resource becomes more than a commodity. It becomes a test. Copper is now that test.
The world is entering an era where electrification is no longer optional. Power grids must expand, vehicles must transition, and data must move faster and farther. Beneath all of it, quiet, unseen, but indispensable, lies copper. Yet the world is waking up to a difficult truth. It does not have enough.
This is not speculation. It is a structural reality. Demand is rising faster than supply can respond. New mines take decades, financing is cautious, and political risk is rising. The global system is tightening, and in that tightening space, countries like Eritrea come into focus, not because they dominate the market, but because in a constrained world, even modest producers begin to matter.
Eritrea Is Not Large, But It Is Not Irrelevant
Eritrea’s copper story is not one of scale. It is one of positioning. At present, the country’s production is anchored in the Bisha mine, operated through a partnership between the Eritrean National Mining Corporation and Zijin Mining Group. Bisha produces roughly twenty thousand tonnes of copper annually. It is steady and functional, but it is not transformative on its own.
The real question lies elsewhere, beneath Asmara. The Asmara Mining Share Company controls a polymetallic system that has long been known and studied, and now appears to be slowly moving toward development. If fully realized, it could change Eritrea’s position, not globally, but regionally and strategically. In a world facing shortage, that difference matters.
The Illusion of Abundance and the Reality of Constraint
There is a quiet contradiction shaping the global economy. On one hand, the world speaks confidently about green transitions, digital expansion, and industrial growth. On the other hand, the material foundation of that future is under strain.
Copper is not easily replaced. It is efficient, durable, and essential. Electric vehicles demand multiples of it. Renewable energy systems depend on it, and even the invisible world of data relies on it. But supply does not respond to ambition. It responds to time, capital, and stability, and all three are in short supply.
So the gap widens. And when the gap widens, the map changes.
Eritrea’s Advantage Is Timing, But Timing Alone Is Not Enough
Eritrea is not starting from zero. That is its quiet strength. Bisha is producing, infrastructure exists, and export channels are already established, primarily flowing toward China, where the world’s largest smelting system absorbs concentrate.
This matters because the global copper challenge is not just about discovering resources. It is about bringing them online in time. Eritrea, if it moves with clarity, can position itself within that narrow window.
But timing alone does not create value. It only creates opportunity.
The Deeper Question: Who Benefits?
This is where the conversation must become honest. For decades, Africa has exported raw materials while importing finished value. Eritrea cannot afford to repeat this pattern without reflection.
Copper leaving the country as concentrate generates income, but limited transformation. The deeper question is not how much copper Eritrea has. It is how much of its value Eritrea keeps.
This is not an ideological question. It is a practical one. Are revenues transparent? Are workers protected and skilled? Are local industries growing around the sector? Is infrastructure improving beyond the mine itself?
If the answers remain unclear, then the resource becomes an extraction story, not a development story.
The Risks Are Real, And Ignoring Them Is Not Strength
There is a tendency in some narratives to dismiss criticism as external pressure. That is a mistake. A nation that believes in its sovereignty must also believe in its responsibility.
Eritrea’s mining sector faces real concerns, particularly around labor practices, governance, and transparency. These issues influence investment decisions, market access, and long-term credibility. In today’s world, resources do not move freely. They move through systems shaped by law, finance, and reputation.
If Eritrea wants to be a reliable supplier, it must also be a trusted one. Trust cannot be demanded. It must be built.
Geography Is a Gift, But Also a Risk
Eritrea’s access to the Red Sea is often described as an advantage, and it is. But geography alone does not guarantee success.
The same corridor that offers access to global markets is also exposed to regional instability. Shipping routes shift, insurance costs rise, and confidence fluctuates. In a tight copper market, reliability becomes as important as volume.
Eritrea’s long-term strength will depend not just on what it produces, but on whether it can deliver consistently, predictably, and without disruption.
A Narrow Path Forward
Eritrea does not need to become a global giant to benefit from copper. It needs to become disciplined.
The path forward is deliberate. It requires building transparency into revenue systems, investing in skills rather than just extraction, strengthening labor protections with credibility, expanding value gradually in line with capacity, and using mining revenues to support broader economic sectors.
This is not a quick transformation, but it is a durable one.
Conclusion: The Test of Maturity
Copper is not just a metal in this moment. It is a mirror. It reflects how nations manage opportunity, how they balance sovereignty with responsibility, and how they prepare for a future that demands more than raw extraction.
Eritrea stands at that edge. It has resources, position, and time, though not unlimited. What it does next will determine whether copper becomes another chapter of missed potential or the beginning of something more grounded, more self-reliant, and more aligned with the dignity of the nation.
The world is tightening. And in that tightening, Eritrea has a chance, not to follow, but to define its own path.
The Government of Eritrea has issued a new call for investment in the country’s mining sector, encouraging members of the Eritrean diaspora and international investors to participate in the industry’s continued growth.
In a message posted on March 8, Minister of Agriculture Arefaine Berhe highlighted the role mining has played in Eritrea’s economy and emphasized the government’s commitment to expanding the sector through responsible development and strategic partnerships.
According to the statement, Eritrea has spent years building what officials describe as a modern mining industry based on regulatory frameworks, resource management, and cooperation with international partners. The government sees mining as one of the key drivers of national economic development.
Eritrea is known to hold significant mineral deposits, including gold, copper, zinc, and potash. Several mining projects already operate in the country, while additional sites are under exploration. Officials believe these resources present opportunities for investors seeking long-term returns in what the government describes as a stable and emerging investment environment.
The statement also placed strong emphasis on the role of the Eritrean diaspora. Eritreans living abroad have long contributed to national development through remittances, business investments, and technical expertise. The government is now encouraging greater diaspora participation specifically in the mining industry.
Officials say diaspora involvement could strengthen economic resilience, increase local expertise, and deepen national ownership of key sectors.
Eritrea has attracted international mining companies in the past decade, but investment has often been influenced by geopolitical tensions and debates surrounding governance and transparency in the sector. Despite these challenges, mining continues to remain one of Eritrea’s most important sources of export revenue.
In the statement, the government reaffirmed its commitment to maintaining a reliable investment climate and building mutually beneficial partnerships with investors.
“We welcome all interested partners to join us in transforming Eritrea’s natural resources into shared prosperity,” the message said.
The renewed call for investment comes at a time when global demand for strategic minerals is increasing, placing resource-rich countries like Eritrea in a potentially advantageous position if investments and infrastructure continue to expand.
When Sylvan Adams founded Israel Start-Up Nation in 2014, he wasn’t simply creating a cycling team—he was building what he himself proudly called a vehicle for Israeli soft power. Adams, a Canadian-Israeli billionaire and self-described “ambassador for Israel,” made no secret of his intentions: the team would race under Israel’s flag across European roads, into living rooms during the Tour de France, onto the podiums of the world’s most prestigious races. It was, by his own admission, a nation-branding exercise, positioning sport as a counterweight to international criticism of Israeli policies.
But soft power has its limits. As the war in Gaza intensified in 2024 and 2025, the Israel-Premier Tech team became a lightning rod for protests. Demonstrators disrupted stages during the Vuelta a España. Over 100,000 protesters filled Madrid’s streets during the final stage. The BDS movement called for peaceful disruptions at the Tour de France. Premier Tech, the Canadian sponsor, withdrew. Eventually, Adams stepped away from the project as well—at least officially.
A New Identity
In November 2025, NSN emerged—Never Say Never—a Spanish sports and entertainment company co-founded by football legend Andrés Iniesta, backed by Swiss investment firm Stoneweg. The team is registered in Geneva with a Swiss UCI license but operates from Barcelona and Girona. The Israeli flag is gone. Adams has publicly stated he no longer holds financial stakes or operational roles.
On paper, the transformation appears complete: new ownership, new nationality, new headquarters. Three Israeli riders remain under contract—Oded Kogut, Itamar Einhorn, and Nadav Raisberg—but the structure has been rebuilt without any visible ties to Israel. Sporting director Óscar Guerrero described the transition as definitive, with Adams present at the first training camp in Dénia only as “a way to say goodbye” and ensure an orderly handover.
We note this transformation with hope—not certainty, but well-founded hope—that ties of any kind with Israel have been completely severed. Cycling deserves teams that race for sport, not as extensions of political projects. NSN has the opportunity to prove that this transformation is not cosmetic but substantive.
Eritrean Pride
And then there’s Biniam Girmay. The Eritrean sprinter, winner of the 2024 Tour de France green jersey, signed a three-year contract with NSN—a move carrying symbolic weight far beyond the peloton. For an Eritrean cyclist, representation matters deeply. Eritrea, a nation with a vibrant cycling culture but limited global visibility, sees in Girmay a rare beacon of international recognition.
As an Eritrean, I cannot help but feel a profound sense of pride and relief. Girmay’s brilliance deserves a platform free from the shadow of political controversy. Had he signed with Israel-Premier Tech, his achievements would have been perpetually entangled in debates beyond his control—his victories overshadowed by protests, his podiums accompanied by uncomfortable questions about complicity and image laundering.
That NSN emerged only after Israeli branding became untenable is obvious. But if this transformation is genuine—if the team has truly turned the page—then Girmay’s presence becomes not a moral compromise but a triumph. He can race, sprint, and win on his own terms, representing Eritrea and Africa on the world stage without being conscripted into someone else’s political project.
And the early signs are encouraging. In its new NSN guise, the team has already notched significant victories: Ethan Vernon triumphed at the Tour Down Under, while Girmay himself won the Volta a la Comunitat Valenciana. These successes demonstrate that beyond questions of identity and ownership, there exists a competitive squad capable of excelling at the highest levels. For Girmay, beginning the season with a win is the best of omens—proof that pure talent can shine when political distractions are set aside.
Toward Clearer Roads
Cyclists want only to race. They chase stages, sprints, and grand tours, not political debates. But sport is never apolitical, and teams are not neutral vessels. When Israel-Premier Tech raced, it carried more than jerseys and sponsors—it carried a message, one wielded by its founder as a tool of national branding amid occupation and conflict.
NSN represents, at least on paper, a clean break. The relocation of operations to Barcelona and Girona, the Geneva registration, the new Spanish and Swiss ownership: these are concrete steps. But words must be matched by deeds. The team must prove, day after day, season after season, that this was not a tactical move to placate protesters but an authentic commitment to building a sporting project free from political instrumentalization.
We wish NSN success—not because rebranding erases history, but because genuine transformation deserves recognition. And above all, we celebrate Biniam Girmay. His speed, his skill, and his smile belong to Eritrea, to Africa, to the sport itself. May he race freely, unburdened by the controversies of the past, and may his victories inspire a generation of young cyclists who see in him not just a champion, but a symbol of what sport can be when it transcends politics and embraces pure, unadulterated excellence.
The road ahead can be clear. The victories can speak for themselves. And Biniam Girmay can keep pedaling toward glory.
The current exchange between Jawar Mohammed and Getachew Reda over Ethiopia’s alleged role in supporting Sudan’s Rapid Support Forces is more than a social media quarrel. It exposes deeper contradictions in Ethiopian political discourse and raises serious questions about consistency, credibility, and regional stability.
Jawar’s allegation was direct. He claimed that Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s government has allowed the RSF to establish a training camp inside Ethiopia and facilitated the recruitment of Ethiopians, including former members of the national army, regional special police, and ex rebel fighters, to fight alongside Sudanese rebels. According to his statement, these recruits are reportedly operating around Damazin in preparation for cross border operations.
If accurate, that would mean Ethiopia is not merely observing Sudan’s civil war. It would mean active involvement.
The RSF is not an ordinary political faction. It emerged from the Janjaweed militias and has been widely accused by international organizations of committing atrocities in Darfur and other parts of Sudan. Any perceived association with such a force carries moral, diplomatic, and strategic consequences.
Getachew Reda, now Ethiopia’s State Minister for Horn of African Affairs, responded not by focusing on the operational details of the accusation but by reframing the issue. He argued that critics are conflating opposition to Abiy Ahmed with opposition to Ethiopia’s long term national interests. In his view, Ethiopia cannot afford to remain passive while Sudan collapses and regional actors maneuver for advantage.
On the surface, that is a familiar realist argument. States do have enduring interests. Geography does not change when governments do. Ethiopia shares a long border with Sudan. Instability there has direct implications for trade, migration, and security. No responsible government ignores developments next door.
However, the credibility of this defense is complicated by political memory.
Getachew himself was once one of the most vocal critics of Abiy’s federal government during the Tigray war. He publicly characterized the federal campaign in severe moral terms and demanded international accountability. Today, as a member of Abiy’s government, he defends federal foreign policy as strategic necessity. Political roles evolve, and there is nothing inherently illegitimate about that. But such transitions require consistency in standards.
If allegations of genocide were once central to condemning federal actions domestically, it is difficult to dismiss similar accusations surrounding a regional partner as irrelevant to strategic calculation. Strategy and morality are not separate universes. In modern geopolitics, reputational cost translates into real consequences such as diplomatic isolation, sanctions risk, and long term instability.
There is also a broader regional dimension that cannot be ignored.
For years, Ethiopian political leaders across different parties accused Eritrea of destabilizing the Horn of Africa through proxy involvement and support for armed groups. Eritrea was portrayed as a state that operated through indirect leverage and cross border alignments. Whether those accusations were always balanced or not, they formed a consistent narrative that proxy politics was dangerous and destabilizing.
Now Ethiopia faces accusations of engaging in similar behavior. If RSF training or recruitment is occurring inside Ethiopian territory, critics will inevitably compare it to the very conduct Ethiopia once condemned in others.
This is not about scoring rhetorical points. It is about standards. A state cannot credibly argue that regional interference is destabilizing when carried out by its neighbor, yet strategic when carried out by itself. Consistency is essential for long term legitimacy.
Prime Minister Abiy’s relative silence in this exchange adds another layer. The public defense has been carried primarily by his state minister. In high stakes matters involving alleged cross border military activity, silence invites speculation. If the reports are inaccurate, they warrant a clear denial. If there is a deliberate strategic policy, it warrants explanation. National interest is not weakened by transparency; it is strengthened by it.
From an Eritrea first strategic perspective, the lesson is straightforward. The Horn of Africa is fragile precisely because states often justify short term tactical moves without fully accounting for long term consequences. Proxy alignments, militia engagement, and cross border entanglements rarely remain contained. They harden divisions and create cycles of retaliation.
Eritrea has long argued for sovereignty, non interference, and clarity in regional relations. When larger neighbors shift between moral condemnation and strategic justification depending on circumstance, it reinforces the importance of consistency. Stability in the Horn will not come from selective standards. It will come from predictable behavior grounded in respect for borders and long term regional balance.
The debate between Jawar and Getachew ultimately comes down to one question: what truly serves Ethiopia’s enduring interests? If involvement in Sudan’s civil war strengthens Ethiopia’s security and diplomatic standing, that case should be articulated clearly and factually. If it carries risks of deeper entanglement and reputational damage, those risks should be acknowledged honestly.
The Horn of Africa has paid a heavy price for policies driven by short term calculation. Memory in this region is long. Contradictions are not easily forgotten.
Strategic language alone cannot resolve that tension. Only consistency can.
