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Fighting has erupted once again in Ethiopia’s northern region of Tigray, pitting regional forces against the national army in a confrontation that carries devastating echoes of the brutal two-year civil war that only ended in 2022. For the people of Tigray, who have spent the past few years trying to rebuild shattered lives, the sound of renewed conflict is not just a political crisis — it is an existential threat. Reports of panic buying have already surfaced across the region, and internet and mobile services have been cut off, leaving communities unable to access their money through digital payment apps in a society that became largely cashless after ATMs stopped functioning months ago.
This latest escalation did not emerge from nowhere. It is the product of more than six months of steadily deteriorating relations between Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s federal government in Addis Ababa and the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, the political force that governs Tigray. The African Union’s landmark Pretoria Agreement, which ended the war nearly four years ago, was always built on shaky foundations — and those foundations have now cracked wide open.
To understand why Ethiopia is back on the edge of war, you first need to understand who the TPLF actually is. The Tigray People’s Liberation Front first emerged in the 1970s as an armed insurgency fighting Ethiopia’s brutal military government. It played a decisive role in overthrowing the Marxist regime in 1991 and subsequently became the dominant force within the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front, the coalition that governed Ethiopia for nearly three decades.
That dominance was always a source of friction, given that ethnic Tigrayans represent only around 6% of Ethiopia’s total population. When Abiy Ahmed came to power in 2018, he dismantled the EPRDF and replaced it with his own Prosperity Party, dramatically reducing the TPLF’s influence almost overnight. The relationship between Addis Ababa and the TPLF collapsed rapidly after that, culminating in the catastrophic 2020 war — one of the deadliest conflicts of the twenty-first century, which the AU’s own mediator estimates killed some 600,000 people and pushed Tigray to the brink of famine.
The uneasy truce agreed in November 2022 was never a comprehensive settlement. It left four critical issues unresolved, and two of them revolve around the fertile and strategically significant territory of western Tigray. In the early days of the civil war, Amhara regional forces — who had fought alongside the Ethiopian army — seized control of western Tigray, displacing hundreds of thousands of ethnic Tigrayans who now live in makeshift camps across the region and in Addis Ababa. The TPLF demands the territory back and insists on the right of displaced people to return; the federal government insists the question must be settled by referendum.
The third flashpoint is disarmament. Addis Ababa accuses the TPLF of handing over only obsolete weapons to AU monitors while concealing its real arsenal. The fourth concerns governance: under the Pretoria Agreement, Abiy appointed an interim administration for Tigray, but the TPLF dissolved it just before Ethiopia’s general election in May — an election that was not even held in Tigray due to the ongoing security crisis — and reinstated its pre-war leadership. The consequence has been devastating for ordinary Tigrayans: civil servants have stopped receiving salaries, public services have ground to a halt, and economic conditions have worsened sharply.
This week, major clashes erupted across Tigray before rapidly spreading into the neighbouring Afar and Amhara regions, and the two sides are offering contradictory accounts of how it started. The TPLF claims it was responding to a federal offensive that included drone strikes against Tigrayan positions. The government counters that Tigrayan forces struck first after seizing control of airports within the region. Both narratives serve clear political purposes, and independently verifying the sequence of events remains extremely difficult.
What is less disputed is the nature of the federal military response. Residents in one recently targeted town told journalists that drone strikes hit two schools, which local officials say had previously served as military bases for Ethiopian troops during the civil war — suggesting Addis Ababa may believe those same facilities are again being used for military purposes, this time by Tigrayan forces. Reports have also emerged that the TPLF has been forcibly recruiting young men into its ranks, a practice that, if confirmed, would represent a serious human rights concern and would inevitably fuel resentment within Tigray itself.
Perhaps the most consequential development in this crisis is the TPLF’s decision to break out of its political isolation. In September, it joined six other armed movements to form what they call the Alliance for Survival, a coalition that includes the Amhara Fano militia and the Oromo Liberation Army — two forces that were actively fighting the federal government long before the TPLF joined them. The fact that the TPLF and Fano, who were on opposite sides of the civil war and still disagree bitterly over the fate of western Tigray, have managed to set aside their differences even temporarily is a striking indicator of how much these groups want Abiy’s government gone.
TPLF officials have been explicit about their motivation: they do not want a repeat of 2020, when they felt encircled and cut off. Analysts, however, caution that an alliance built on such divergent interests and unresolved grievances may prove difficult to sustain over time. The coalition’s unity is tactical, not ideological — and that distinction matters enormously for what comes next.
The federal government has accused Eritrea of supporting armed groups inside Ethiopia — an allegation Asmara flatly denies. During the 2020–2022 civil war, Eritrean troops fought alongside Ethiopian federal forces against the TPLF, making their current estrangement all the more significant. The falling-out between Addis Ababa and Asmara centres on the Red Sea and its ports: Ethiopia, the world’s most populous landlocked nation, lost access to the sea when Eritrea seceded in 1993, and Abiy Ahmed has been openly pushing for ownership of Eritrea’s southern port of Assab, even hinting that he might pursue it by force. That threat has fundamentally redrawn the regional alignment.
The crisis does not exist in a vacuum. Sudan’s ongoing civil war adds a further layer of complexity, because the two warring factions in Sudan have aligned themselves on opposite sides of the Tigray conflict, creating the potential for the Horn of Africa’s multiple crises to become dangerously entangled. The AU has explicitly called on all neighbouring countries to refrain from any action that could further escalate the situation — a warning that reflects just how seriously the continental body views the risk of regional contagion.
The African Union is leading diplomatic efforts, calling for an immediate cessation of hostilities and a return to direct negotiations. It has asked former Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo, the AU’s special envoy for the Horn of Africa, to engage both parties with urgency. The United Nations has issued a parallel appeal, warning explicitly against a wider and more devastating conflict. The regional bloc IGAD has also called for a halt to fighting and a resumption of dialogue.
The problem is that trust between Addis Ababa and Tigray is at an historic low, and the formation of the Alliance for Survival has made the diplomatic landscape considerably more complicated. Any peace process must now contend not just with two parties but with a web of armed actors whose interests only partially overlap. That is a much harder problem to solve — and the people of Tigray, already exhausted by years of war and economic collapse, are the ones who will pay the price if no solution is found.
The fighting has already spread beyond Tigray’s borders into Afar and Amhara, and the federal government is simultaneously managing armed conflicts in Oromia and other regions. The Alliance for Survival, if it holds together, potentially links these separate conflicts into a single, coordinated political and military challenge to Abiy’s authority — a scenario that would fundamentally alter the balance of power in one of Africa’s most strategically important nations. Ethiopia is home to over 120 million people and sits at the heart of the Horn of Africa; its stability, or lack thereof, reverberates across the entire continent.
For young Ethiopians and young Africans watching from across the region, this crisis is a stark reminder that peace agreements are only as strong as the political will behind them. The Pretoria Agreement failed not because it was poorly designed, but because the underlying grievances — over land, power, identity and resources — were never genuinely addressed. Until they are, the cycle of war and fragile truce looks set to continue.