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Eritrea at the Red Sea Crossroads: Why a Changing World Demands Strategic Flexibility at Home

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The latest signs of possible U.S.-Eritrea engagement should be read neither with excitement nor with suspicion alone. They should be read with clarity. According to a Wall Street Journal report published on April 22, the Trump administration is reviewing a plan that could ease some sanctions on Eritrea and reopen more serious diplomatic contact after years of distance.

This matters because it confirms something Eritreans have always known, even when others tried to deny it: Eritrea’s strategic relevance does not disappear because major powers choose to ignore it. The report says Washington’s interest is tied to the Red Sea, the Bab al-Mandeb chokepoint, and wider instability linked to Iran and the Houthis, all of which have increased the value of Eritrea’s long Red Sea coastline in American calculations. In other words, Eritrea has returned to the center of geopolitical thinking not because the outside world has suddenly become fair, but because geography and crisis have forced a reassessment.

There is an important lesson in that. Nations that stand firm through difficult periods can outlast the fashions of international politics, but endurance by itself is not enough. A country may survive on resilience, but it cannot build its full future on resilience alone.

Since independence in 1993, Eritrea has defended its sovereignty with unusual discipline and stubbornness, often under real pressure from stronger states and hostile diplomatic narratives. Relations with Washington deteriorated over time, and U.S. sanctions and restrictions tied to the conflicts in northern Ethiopia and broader human rights concerns remained part of that reality in recent years. Even now, reporting indicates that any U.S. move is still under review rather than finalized, which means Eritrea should approach this moment with patience and realism rather than illusion.

Still, the shift is real enough to deserve serious reflection. If Washington is reconsidering Eritrea because the Red Sea has become too important to neglect, then Eritrea must also reconsider how best to convert strategic location into durable national strength. Geography can give a country leverage, but only institutions, legitimacy, and productive citizens can turn leverage into lasting power.

This is where the discussion must become honest. Eritrea has every right to reject foreign bullying. It has every right to insist that engagement be based on mutual respect rather than diktat. But an Eritrea-first position should not confuse national dignity with political immobility. Strategic flexibility is not surrender. It is the ability to adapt without losing oneself.

That means the changing geopolitical climate should be treated not only as an external opportunity, but as an internal warning. If the world is shifting, Eritrea must not remain frozen. It should move with confidence to strengthen the state from within, beginning with long-delayed constitutional implementation and the building of credible national institutions. A constitution is not a gift to outsiders, and it is not a public relations tool. It is a covenant between state and citizen, and a framework that gives sovereignty institutional form.

The same is true for broader civic and political renewal. A strong Eritrea needs more than military vigilance. It needs functioning law, predictable institutions, and a public sphere where citizens can contribute to national life without fear. It needs a national compact that treats the people not only as defenders of the state, but as rightful participants in shaping it.

This is especially urgent because the region is becoming more dangerous, not less. Tensions related to Ethiopia’s recurring push for sea access have already fueled fears of a fresh confrontation, and recent analysis has highlighted the risk that rhetoric around Red Sea access could trigger another regional crisis. In such an environment, Eritrea needs both deterrence and diplomacy, both resolve and flexibility. Neither one alone is sufficient.

The Wall Street Journal report also notes that Egypt has been facilitating parts of the current dialogue and that contacts have involved senior American, Eritrean, and Egyptian figures. That detail matters because it shows the issue is no longer merely bilateral. Eritrea now sits inside a wider contest involving Red Sea security, Arab-African diplomacy, regional rivalries, and the strategic anxieties of global powers. A small country in such an environment cannot afford political stagnation at home while maneuvering in a rapidly changing region abroad.

There is also a deeper national question beneath the diplomacy. What kind of state does Eritrea want to be in this new phase? One that is noticed only when others need its coastline, or one that commands respect because it has combined sovereignty with institutional maturity, discipline with openness, and resilience with reform?

That is the real challenge of this moment. The outside world may be changing its tone toward Eritrea for reasons of strategy, not justice. Eritrea, however, should not respond only tactically. It should respond historically. It should recognize that strategic relevance creates a window, and windows do not remain open forever.

An Eritrea-first approach today should therefore rest on two principles at once. The first is that national independence remains nonnegotiable. The second is that internal reform is no longer optional. Implementing the constitution, broadening lawful civic space, strengthening institutions, and giving the younger generation a fuller stake in the future are not concessions to Washington or to any other capital. They are acts of national self-respect.

If this geopolitical shift teaches anything, it is that Eritrea still matters. But the next lesson is even more important: to matter is not enough. The country must also prepare itself to use that relevance wisely, strengthen itself internally, and enter the next era with confidence rooted not only in sacrifice, but in renewal.

Disclaimer

The views and opinions titled "Eritrea at the Red Sea Crossroads: Why a Changing World Demands Strategic Flexibility at Home", are those of Hannibal Negash and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Setit Media. ኣብዚ "Eritrea at the Red Sea Crossroads: Why a Changing World Demands Strategic Flexibility at Home", ዘርእስቱ ጽሑፍ ተገሊጹ ዘሎ ርእይቶን ሓሳብን ናይ Hannibal Negash እምበር መትከላትን መርገጽን ሰቲት ሚዲያ ዘንጸባርቕ ኣይኮነን።

General Tsadkan Gebretnsae: The Black Sheep of Tigray

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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 (19961998), 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 19982000 Ethio-Eritrea border war that led to the perishing of 100,000 Ethiopian soldiers.  

During the 19982000 Ethio-Eritrea War  

During the 19982000 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 19982000 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 20202022 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 20202022 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 19982000 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 20202022 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.  

Awet N’hafsh and Eternal Glory to Our Martyrs  

Disclaimer

The views and opinions titled "General Tsadkan Gebretnsae: The Black Sheep of Tigray", are those of Abel Kebedom and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Setit Media. ኣብዚ "General Tsadkan Gebretnsae: The Black Sheep of Tigray", ዘርእስቱ ጽሑፍ ተገሊጹ ዘሎ ርእይቶን ሓሳብን ናይ Abel Kebedom እምበር መትከላትን መርገጽን ሰቲት ሚዲያ ዘንጸባርቕ ኣይኮነን።

Teddy Afro and the Politics of Existential Threat

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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.

Disclaimer

The views and opinions titled "Teddy Afro and the Politics of Existential Threat", are those of Filmon Yemane and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Setit Media. ኣብዚ "Teddy Afro and the Politics of Existential Threat", ዘርእስቱ ጽሑፍ ተገሊጹ ዘሎ ርእይቶን ሓሳብን ናይ Filmon Yemane እምበር መትከላትን መርገጽን ሰቲት ሚዲያ ዘንጸባርቕ ኣይኮነን።

The Recurring Failure of American Foreign Policy

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THE AMERICAN PARADOX

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.

Disclaimer

The views and opinions titled "The Recurring Failure of American Foreign Policy", are those of Filmon Yemane and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Setit Media. ኣብዚ "The Recurring Failure of American Foreign Policy", ዘርእስቱ ጽሑፍ ተገሊጹ ዘሎ ርእይቶን ሓሳብን ናይ Filmon Yemane እምበር መትከላትን መርገጽን ሰቲት ሚዲያ ዘንጸባርቕ ኣይኮነን።

The Order That Created This War

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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.

Sources: [Axios](https://www.axios.com/2026/04/07/iran-2-week-ceasfire-trump-pakistan) · [Al Jazeera — World Reactions](https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2026/4/8/world-welcomes-us-iran-ceasefire-urges-lasting-peace-in-the-middle-east) · [CBS News](https://www.cbsnews.com/live-updates/iran-trump-ceasefire-strait-hormuz-israel-war-hezbollah-continues/) · [NPR](https://www.npr.org/2026/04/08/nx-s1-5777291/iran-war-updates) · [Bloomberg](https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2026-04-08/us-iran-ceasefire-claims-diverge-as-hormuz-stays-blocked) · [Al Jazeera — Lebanon](https://www.aljazeera.com/news/liveblog/2026/4/9/iran-war-live-israel-kills-254-in-lebanon-shaking-trump-tehran-ceasefire) · [Horn Review — Iran’s Eritrean Variable](https://hornreview.org/2026/03/04/irans-eritrean-variable-mapping-irans-retaliatory-options-through-eritrea/) · [Horn Review — Shadow Alliance](https://hornreview.org/2026/03/12/iran-saf-eritrea-the-shadow-alliance-threatening-red-sea-security/)*

Jakaya Kikwete Enters a Region Under Pressure

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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.

The Chaos Is the Strategy

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How a smaller world makes America look greater

I. A hypothesis few seem willing to entertain

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.

Disclaimer

The views and opinions titled "The Chaos Is the Strategy", are those of Filmon Yemane and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Setit Media. ኣብዚ "The Chaos Is the Strategy", ዘርእስቱ ጽሑፍ ተገሊጹ ዘሎ ርእይቶን ሓሳብን ናይ Filmon Yemane እምበር መትከላትን መርገጽን ሰቲት ሚዲያ ዘንጸባርቕ ኣይኮነን።

Eritrea in the New Global Copper Squeeze

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Eid Mubarak to all.

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.

Eritrea Invites Diaspora and Global Investors to Expand Mining Sector

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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.

NSN and Cycling Superstar Biniam Girmay

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A Team Built for Branding

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.