Tag Archive for: Crisis in Ethiopia

Ethiopia in Turmoil

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The Royal United Services Institute (RUSI) | Ann M. Fitz-Gerald

The northern region of Tigray is challenging Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed’s reform agenda. The prospects for peace are dim.

Distortions and misinformation have added further complexities to an already fraught confrontation between the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) and the federal government of Ethiopia’s Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed. Two weeks after the clashes begun, a resolution to the current crisis is far from clear.

A FRAUGHT LEGACY

The challenge of pursuing transformative leadership and political change was always a tall order for Abiy. When he came to power in 2018, he inherited a model of federalism including nine ethnic-based regions spanning a population of approximately 110 million. His immediate focus was to open political space, pursue market-based reforms and make peace with neighbouring Eritrea.

Enhanced multi-ethnic representation across government dealt a blow to TPLF-heavy hierarchies. Abiy’s determination to depart from the socialist underpinnings of the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front’s (EPRDF) ethnic federalist doctrine amounted to a sudden and unsavoury change of direction for a party which had not only liberated the country from the Derg, an oppressive military junta, but which had poured years of efforts into the development and implementation of a model of revolutionary ‘democratic developmental statebuilding’.

But Abiy’s administration persevered, reversing many of the former policies, systems and narratives. This irritated those who considered themselves national defenders and ‘guardians’ of visionary thinking. In the absence of any immediate reconciliation and reintegration scheme for TPLF leaders, a backlash from a bruised and unappreciated TPLF became inevitable.

SECURITY SECTOR REFORM

Within the security sector more specifically, Abiy deconstructed past practices which had retained senior TPLF officers beyond compulsory retirement. He also introduced a policy which prevented more than one member of any ethnic group from being present in every level of the military’s command structure. The implication was that many Tigrayans at mid-senior levels would not become eligible for career enhancing roles which, together with the limit on staying in one military rank for no more than 10 years, would support a gradual exodus of many mid- and senior-level officers and soldiers. While jobs were offered to those who could stay, and short-term support provided to those who departed in the form of additional months’ pay as well as allowing senior officers to retain military vehicles, this was no consolation for what the TPLF felt it deserved. Abiy subsequently issued arrest warrants for a number of these commanders who stood accused of corruption and human rights abuses. This caused further alienation from the Abiy administration.

The awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize to Abiy only intensified the TPLF’s indignation. Abiy’s view was that the significant military build-up in the country’s eastern and northern commands – the latter in Tigray – was expensive and required dismantling now that peace with Eritrea had been achieved. The TPLF perceived the situation with Eritrea differently, and resisted the removal of this equipment. When crowds blocked returning equipment convoys in protest, federal troops were instructed by Abiy to stand down to avoid violence.

THE LOOMING CRISIS

The loose thread holding the TPLF to Abiy’s government was finally broken in 2019 when the government rebranded the ruling coalition as the ‘Prosperity Party’ – a move which sought to involve representatives from all nine regional states, five of which had not been encompassed by the previous EPRDF coalition party. The TPLF severed all ties and gradually focused more on the region.

When the country’s electoral commission took a decision to postpone the federal elections because of the pandemic, the TPLF challenged Abiy’s legitimacy. But the electoral commission exercised an independent decision, which was supported by a unanimous vote in parliament, citing challenges of the country’s weak capacity to manage the pandemic while supporting, what was anticipated to be, an election with the highest voter turnout in the country’s history. Still, Tigray forged ahead with what the federal government deemed an illegal regional election which excluded the two main regional opposition parties and produced a landslide victory for the TPLF.

Refusing to accept the decision taken by parliament and the constitutional inquiry bodies to postpone the election, the TPLF called all its government employees, ministers and parliamentarians back to their region on 5 October – the date, prior to these decisions, of the end of Abiy’s first term in office. Added to the mix was the TPLF’s demand that any dialogue with the federal government be overseen by a caretaker administration which did not include Abiy.

The move of governance capacity back to Tigray’s capital, Mekelle, meant that prospects for a negotiated arrangement were fast disappearing. Refusing to afford any legal basis to Tigray’s newly elected regional assembly, the House of Federation (the upper house of the federal parliament) unanimously passed a bill calling for regional funding disbursements to be routed to more local Tigrayan authorities, bypassing the TPLF-controlled central regional government in Mekelle. The TPLF described this as a ‘declaration of war’ by the federal government.

THE BREAKDOWN

On 4 November, following a discussion between Abiy and the Tigray regional president Debretsion Gebremichael, a government cargo plane carrying monthly army rations, and billions of new birr currency to furnish regional banks and support the salaries of personnel in the northern command, landed in Mekelle. What followed were synchronised attacks on all levels of command posts under the federal northern command. Government reports indicate that insiders loyal to the TPLF cooperated with regional militia in killing non-Tigrayan officers and soldiers and demanding that others surrender their weapons.  A senior associate of the TPLF leadership later claimed responsibility for the attack in a video which has since been withdrawn from the internet. Hours following the attack, Abiy deployed federal defence forces to ‘secure law and order in the region and to apprehend those implicated in mass corruption and gross human rights violations’.

Whereas one could ask whether or not the attack on the barracks constituted the crossing of a ‘red line’ – and whether there was scope to avoid confrontation – the federal government’s decision to deploy troops appeared to be based on what it felt had been the exhaustion of all other non-military instruments of power in efforts to appease the TPLF. Citing TPLF links to instability elsewhere in the country, conscious of the northern command’s heavy artillery and long-range weapons, and the scope for further casualties, it was clear that Abiy felt compelled to authorise the use of force. Hundreds of combatants and civilians have died, a flood of refugees has moved towards Sudan, political prisoners have been taken hostage and humanitarian corridors have become threatened.

AN INTERNATIONAL ROLE?

The TPLF’s latest rocket attacks on the Eritrean capital of Asmara appear to be an attempt to internationalise the conflict and lay the ground for an international response. Calls for a ceasefire, mediation, dialogue and negotiations have all been made. The Ethiopian government has stated that it will not sit down to negotiations with what it describes as ‘criminals’. The situation leaves only two options for an international response: calls for a swift and peaceful resolution of differences, or external intervention. While the former would be in the context of Ethiopia’s internal mechanisms of conflict resolution, the latter would involve taking sides – which, at this stage, should be avoided at all costs.

Any option moving forward, including weapons decommissioning, would need to consider the country’s important traditional and cultural dialogue processes, deep inter-federal issues, trust deficiencies and linguistic differences. Above all, the voice of the Tigrayan people is key.

Still, inaction is not without its merits as well. For if it becomes clear that the TPLF will be afforded no standing by the international community, they may agree on an internal ceasefire arrangement, and possibly an independent truth and reconciliation commission, perhaps overseen by traditional and religious leaders.

However, with both sides now facing the inevitability of further civilian casualties, and as long as the TPLF believes that there is a way of forcing the hand of both the international community and the federal government, prospects for a peaceful solution remain bleak.

The views expressed in this Commentary are the author’s, and do not represent those of RUSI or any other institution.

What’s Happening in Ethiopia Is a Tragedy

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By Tsedale Lemma for ©The New York Times

Much of the blame must be laid at the door of the prime minister.

The announcement last week that the government was about to launch a military operation into one of the country’s regions came, to put it lightly, as a shock.

Not only was it very far from the emollient statecraft that won Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed the Nobel Peace Prize last year, it also seemed to shatter the purpose of his premiership. When he rose to power in 2018, Mr. Abiy promised to guide Ethiopia into a new era of peace, prosperity and national reconciliation.

But on Nov. 4, he dispatched the Army to Tigray, one of the country’s 10 semiautonomous regions and home to roughly 6 percent of the population, accusing its leaders — with whom he has increasingly sparred — of attacking a government defense post and attempting to steal military equipment.

And in the days since, Mr. Abiy imposed a six-month state of emergency on the Tigray region, declared its legislature void and approved a provisional replacement. As fighting raged, the internet and telephone networks have been shut down. Hundreds are reported to be dead.

This is a tragedy. Ethiopia stands on the cusp of civil war, bringing devastation to both the country and the wider region. While the situation is volatile and uncertain, this much is clear: Mr. Abiy’s political project, to bring together the nation in a process of democratization, is over. And much of the blame must be laid at his door.

After years of persistent anti-government protests, economic troubles and widespread unrest, Mr. Abiy took over a country on the brink of collapse. At least one million people were internally displaced in 2017, according to the United Nations, as the country was shaken by protests from Oromo and Amhara ethnic groups, who together make up nearly two-thirds of the population. Presenting himself as a reformer, the avalanche of changes promised by Mr. Abiy, who took over in April 2018, seemed to avert the worst of the country’s problems.

But Mr. Abiy overreached. His first cardinal mistake was to sideline the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, for decades the most powerful political force in the country, in the peace he brokered between Ethiopia and Eritrea. By pushing the Tigrayan leadership aside as he sealed his signature achievement, Mr. Abiy made clear the limits to his talk of unity.

That was a taste of what was to come. Last year, Mr. Abiy moved to dismantle the old political order. Going beyond his original remit, he proposed reconfiguring the coalition that had ruled the country for 27 years — the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Front, or E.P.R.D.F., which itself comprised a gamut of regional parties — into a new, single party.

The T.P.L.F., which founded and dominated the coalition, was not keen on the change — but Mr. Abiy went ahead with it regardless, creating a rift with the Tigrayans and undermining the country’s delicate political settlement. Far from minimizing the fallout, Mr. Abiy exacerbated it, removing all ministers from the T.P.L.F. from his cabinet.

By the time the new party was announced, in November 2019, the damage was done. The T.P.L.F., angered by the whittling away of its power and concerned that the country’s federal system was under threat, had not joined. They weren’t alone in their disquiet. In Mr. Abiy’s own region, Oromia, many were skeptical of the new order, while southern Ethiopia splintered into disorder, as multiple administrative zones demanded self-rule. After coming to power on the promise of unity, Mr. Abiy had alienated and frustrated key components of his coalition. Suddenly, he looked vulnerable.

The coronavirus changed the calculus. The all-important national election, scheduled for August, was postponed; the focus became how to mitigate the damage wrought by the pandemic. But the political problems didn’t go away.

In the summer, the killing of a popular Oromo musician — whose perpetrators the government claims were acting under the orders of an armed opposition group, the Oromo Liberation Army, and the T.P.L.F. — set off widespread violence against minorities in Oromia and police killings of protesters, in which at least 166 people died. It also led to a major crackdown against opposition political leaders, including Mr. Abiy’s former ally and now fierce critic, Jawar Mohammed.

Then in September, the Tigray region went ahead with its elections, in defiance of the government’s orders. Since that act of subversion, tensions between the government and the leaders in Tigray, simmering for two years, have been high. Last week, they spilled out into open conflict.

Whether or not it escalates into a civil war, it will leave an indelible mark on Ethiopian politics. What was already a deeply polarized country will become more divided still. But most importantly, it could crush the hopes of a democratic transition. Free speech, civil liberties and due process may fall afoul of the turn to militarism and repression.

In Tigray, the possibility of civilian casualties, indiscriminate attacks and protracted conflict could further deepen grievances; in a region with a long history of resistance to the central state, that might lead to an insurgency. The consequences for the wider region, if the conflict were to spill out to Eritrea, Sudan and Djibouti, could be severe.

Judging by Mr. Abiy’s moves over the past week, not least the replacement of the foreign minister and the leaders of the entire security sector with trusted loyalists, he is not inclined to de-escalate. The leader who once committed “to toil for peace every single day and in all seasons” has been acting more like a commander in chief than a prime minister.

Mr. Abiy has come a long way. War, he memorably said as he accepted the Nobel Peace Prize, was “the epitome of hell.” Now he looks ready to meet it.

Tsedale Lemma (@TsedaleLemma) is the editor in chief of the Addis Standard.

Ethiopia is about to cross the point of no return

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©Mail&Guardian – Rashid Abdi  & Tobias Hagmann

With the world’s attention fixated on the United States elections, Ethiopia embarked on a civil war last week. In a time span of five days Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, who won the 2019 Nobel peace prize after making peace with Eritrea, ended the democratic transition that he had initiated two years before.

In the early hours of Wednesday last week, Abiy ordered federal troops to launch an offensive against the northern region of Tigray, which borders Eritrea and is home to about 6% of the population. Government airstrikes on military positions in Tigray and a telecommunication shutdown began the same day.

Since then, Abiy’s government has purged Tigrayan officials from government positions, mobilised ethnic militias to join the war and rejected international calls for dialogue with leaders of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF).

On Saturday, Ethiopia’s parliament replaced Tigray’s elected leadership with a caretaker administration. On Sunday, the prime minister appointed some of his close allies as the new heads of national defence, intelligence and the federal police. Until recently, Abiy preached national unity and forgiveness. So why did he start a civil war?

Abiy’s casus belli is an alleged raid on the headquarters of the Northern Command in Mekelle during which, it is claimed, arms were looted and scores killed. The truth is more complicated. First, the war preparations had been underway for weeks. Federal forces and allied troops from other federal states were in fact massed on the border between Tigray and Amhara as early as late October.

Second, the officer corps of the Northern Command is predominantly Tigrayan and Oromo. The command has been in Mekelle for more than a decade. It had put down deep social roots and developed close ties with the TPLF. When Abiy issued the order for an offensive, the command rejected it and reaffirmed its loyalty to the elected leadership in Tigray. A brief firefight between loyalist and dissident troops ensued, which was quickly suppressed.

The Oromo members of the command are believed to be predominantly supportive of the TPLF. Most are disenchanted with the prime minister’s arrest of Oromo leaders and the heavy-handed crackdown in Oromia.

Third, Tigray is estimated to hold the bulk of Ethiopia’s military hardware. The region has enough helicopter gunships, heavy field guns, tanks and armoured personnel carriers to mount a conventional war. The idea they would raid the command armoury and depots for weapons and ammunition is spurious, fantastical, even.

The role of distrust

Abiy distrusts the professional national army. His relations with the rank and file are brittle. His stint in the army as a radioman in the signals corps and cyber-security department was brief and had not given him the depth and network needed to effectively influence it.

This partly explains why he is increasingly reliant on ethnic forces drawn from other regional states to prosecute the campaign in Tigray. So far, the bulk of the federal fighting force is drawn from a plethora of ethnic armies from the regional states. They include Amhara State special forces and liyu paramilitary police from Oromia.

By outsourcing the war to ethnic units — some with axes to grind against Tigrayans — Abiy is playing a dangerous game almost certain to aggravate the conflict and transforming, potentially, what is a centre-periphery contest into a wider ethnic conflagration.

Both the Tigray leadership and the federal government deserve blame for the current crisis, but it is important to understand the wider context.

The speed at which Abiy evolved from political reformer to war prime minister has astonished his friends and foes alike. When he came to power amid popular unrest in March 2018, Abiy gained overwhelming acclaim as a reformer. He released prisoners, welcomed back the opposition and promised to open up the economy. Yet political liberalisation backfired as pent-up ethnic tensions spiralled out of control, destabilising a nation that has long been considered an anchor of stability in the Horn of Africa region.

Opposition arrests

“Abiymania” dissipated rapidly when it became clear that the new federal leadership was unable to manage these conflicts. Abiy faced serious political opposition from the outgoing TPLF guard, which had dominated the ruling Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front for decades. After he broke with his former colleagues of the Oromo Democratic Party, Abiy faced increasing criticism from Oromo nationalists. They accused him of selling out the Oromo cause; he had many of them arrested in return. Repositioning himself as an Ethiopian nationalist who transcends ethnic cleavages, Abiy created the multi-ethnic, but unitary Prosperity Party that controls all levers of power.

Ethiopia has taken a fatal step towards a full-blown civil war. Armed clashes are now raging on multiple battle fronts. Hundreds of soldiers have died on both sides in less than a week.

Expectations of a swift and clean victory are misplaced. The most likely outcome is a messy and grinding stalemate; and, worse, a protracted insurgency for which TPLF is well-suited. A prolonged conflict is bound to have dire implications. It elevates the prospect of a regionalised and multi-ethnic conflict, risks reversing the economic and development gains made in the past 20 years, and is almost certain to trigger large-scale displacement. Most crucially, it diminishes prospects for furthering democratisation and reduces the chances for credible elections in 2021.

The window for international intervention and mediation is closing very fast. Without a quick, robust and concerted international response to stop the fighting, Ethiopia runs the real risk of crossing the point of no return.

 

Rashid Abdi is a Horn of Africa analyst based in Nairobi, Kenya. Tobias Hagmann is an associate professor in international development at Roskilde University in Denmark. 

From Oslo to The Hague – The journey of Abiy Ahmed Ali

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Solomon Negash

Abiy Ahmed refused dialogue, opted for war, and resisted diplomatic pressure. Make no mistake. This has been his consistent position from day one. He resolved no tension peacefully with any of his major adversaries at home, including Jawar Mohammed, Eskinder Nega, Lidetu Ayalew, Yilkal Getnet, and many more who are languishing in jail on trumped-up charges. Not even with his long-time comrade Lemma Megersa. He has never tried once to resolve his internal political difference peacefully. This says it all, Abiy Ahmed has never been a man of peace. It is not in his nature. Because, as he repeatedly proclaimed publicly and stated in his book, he dreamed of being in power for the next 10 years. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, right?

I was among the hundreds of thousands of Ethiopians who have celebrated the day he was selected as a winner of Nobel Peace Prize in 2019, even if, I believe, he did not do anything notable to deserve such a prize. But we saw it as an opportunity to encourage him to make peace at home, be committed to successful political transition, and to get the attention and support from the international community to help Ethiopia overcome the eminent danger of collapse it was and still is facing. But sadly, he used that opportunity to consolidate his political power at the expense of peace and stability of the country.

I asserted, he didn’t do anything notable to deserve such a prize. It may sound an outrageous assertion but let me clarify.

The “no peace, no war” condition that lasted for two decades was basically a reflection of the deeper conflict that existed for decades between the two dominant political parties: TPLF in Tigray and PDFJ in Eritrea. While in power, TPLF made calls for peace on several occasions, but Eritrea’s PDFJ was not willing to answer to such calls. PDFJ sees TPLF as an eternal enemy who ruined the dream of EPLF (former PDFJ) and young Issaias to become a leading power in the region. For example, the former Prime Minister Hailemariam Desalegn, made several calls, but President Issaias Afewerki showed no interest. He refused to negotiate with a “puppet” (his word). When Abiy came to power and signaled his interest to make peace with Eritrea (which was decided by EPRDF centrally as part of their reform agenda before Abiy Ahmed came to power), President Issaias did not show any interest and never answered for several weeks. He was not interested until he noticed Abiy entering a new chapter in his power dynamics determined to get rid of TPLF leaders from Menelik palace. Afewerki reconsidered and answered for the call when he witnessed key leaders of TPLF left Addis Ababa for Mekelle. In a way, he was the main player for the two nations to coming to the so-called “peace”, which was later praised by many.

For those who knew the history between these two rivals, there was no genuine peace to celebrate. There was and still is a tactical alliance between two groups who have a common enemy, called TPLF. As Kjetil Tronvoll, a leading expert on Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa, once accurately described it, “the ultimate goal of Isaias Afewerki is to crush TPLF and to inflict revenge upon Tigray”, i.e. not peace. Thus, what seems progress in peace was actually and paradoxically an extended conflict which draws in several new actors into play. The two actors that were in conflict are still in conflict, but this time joined and backed by several other actors (such as, Prosperity Party and the ethnic based militias from the Amhara region) which sided with PDFJ of Eritrea.

It is the alliance of these groups that declared war today not only against TPLF, but also against the people of Tigray. What started by marginalizing and discriminating ethnic Tigrians, for example, banning from national sports, cutting budgets, preventing humanitarian aid from entering Tigray, and refusing to send medical appliances related to COVID19, is now upscaled to a full-fledged war that involves aerial bombardment including in densely populated towns. (And yes, Abiy Ahmed declared and warned about this live on national television.) As such, Abiy Ahmed, the Nobel Peace Laurate, begins to commence on a new road, from Nobel Peace Center in Oslo to ICC in The Hague, in just one year.

The Nobel committee disappointed by Mr Abiy?

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The decision to grant an organisation the Nobel peace prize might be seen in some quarters as a retreat from controversy by the Nobel committee. Last year the award was given to Abiy Ahmed, the prime minister of Ethiopia, for making peace with Eritrea and seeming to open up space for democratic dissent. But a year later Ethiopia remains deeply troubled and Mr Abiy is not as popular as he was. Bestowing the prize on the WFP, which is less likely to disappoint than any political leader, is a safe option.

The Economist | International | Oct 9th 2020. A Nobel cause.

Will Ethiopia-Eritrea Peace Last?

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National Interest | Michael Rubin | History warns the relationship between these two countries could suddenly turn sour again.

When Eritrea won its independence in 1993 after a thirty-year struggle against Ethiopia, there was optimism that peace would hold. Long-time dictator Mengistu Haile Mariam resigned on May 21, 1991, and fled into exile in Zimbabwe. Eritrean President Isaias Afwerki and the new Ethiopian leader Meles Zenawi had been comrades-in-arms against Mengistu’s regime. It looked like the two would lead their respective countries into a period of both peace and prosperity. In a book review for the Financial Times, British writer John Ryle recalled a 1995 celebration in the northern Ethiopian town of Mekelle:

“The two guerrilla movements had fought together to defeat the Derg, then – unprecedentedly – agreed to an amicable secession. In western diplomatic circles, Meles and Isaias were being touted as a new breed of African statesman. That evening on the outskirts of Mekelle, I watched as Meles, Isaias and other guests, serenaded by Mahmud Ahmed, a veteran Ethiopian pop star, danced together in the moonlight.”

Such episodes would not last. Just three years later, a series of skirmishes between Eritrea and Ethiopia over relatively minor border disputes would erupt into a full-scale conflict. The land they disputed had no real resources. It seemed so irrelevant that the conflict was often described as “two bald men fighting over a comb.”

Whereas Isaias and Meles once danced at Mekelle, soon Eritrean aircraft were bombing it. Sniper fire, artillery barrages, tank fire, air raids, and land grabs slowed into a stalemate and World War I-like trench warfare replete with human wave assaults. By the time both sides agreed to a ceasefire, at least one hundred thousand Ethiopians and Eritreans had died in combat. The peace was cold, however, and at times it appeared as if hostilities might again erupt.

Both countries used the crisis as an excuse to clamp down. Whereas once diplomats and analysts hoped Eritrea might become a democracy, it quickly descended into autocracy. In 1999, Freedom House lowered its rating to “not free.” Isaias used the conflict to institute near-indefinite conscription—lasting decades and often indistinguishable from slavery. Ethiopia, meanwhile, while never quite as extreme, also slipped back into repression.

That Eritrea and Ethiopia have been a hairs’ trigger away from renewed conflict made their sudden 2018 rapprochement all the more remarkable. Many observers credit the Ethiopian parliament’s appointment of Abiy Ahmed, a young former guerilla fighter and intelligence officer who had previously led Ethiopia’s equivalent of the National Security Agency. His political work—efforts to address both youth unemployment and the plight of the displaced as well as his ability to build cross-ethnic coalitions—shot him to prominence.

Abiy called for peace upon his inauguration and wasted no time to pursue it. Even seasoned veterans in the region, however, were surprised by the speed with which Isaias reciprocated his efforts. In September 2018, the two leaders signed a peace agreement in Saudi Arabia. The rapprochement has been rapid, as Ethiopians and Eritreans reunite families and resume trade. There is widespread speculation that Abiy could win the Nobel Peace Prize.

Alas, while Abiy appears sincere, it is far from clear Ethiopia-Eritrea peace will last. Here’s the problem. The seventy-three-year-old Isaias sees himself less as an equal to the forty-two-year-old Abiy than as a father figure and guide. Even at the best of times, Isaias’ concept of diplomacy is dictating his position and then waiting for opponents to accept it without any compromise. When the adversary or partner is a generational younger, the chances that Isaias will compromise recede from miniscule to nonexistent. Bilateral issues will inevitably arise, and it is unclear whether ordinary Ethiopians—let alone a fictitious political coalition—will back repeated Abiy’s concessions. After all, from the Ethiopian perspective, they are now Africa’s second most populous country after Nigeria and, with more than 100 million, they dominate East Africa. Isaias sees Eritrea and Ethiopia as equal, but Ethiopians will never accept equality with a country whose population is just one-twentieth of their own.

So, when Isaias raises a complaint and Abiy has no room to maneuver, what Isaias do? In the past, Isaias has shown a willingness to subordinate regional security and his country’s economic health for the sake of his own twisted sense of personal honor. Just as Isaias and Meles went from comrades and friends to enemies within just a few months, so too could Isaias and Abiy. Add into the mix that Ethiopia is growing more democratic while Eritrea has become the North Korea of the African continent, and Isaias has personal reasons to put the brakes on or even reverse the peace. Isaias may temporarily welcome the economic infusion that peace brings his devastated and impoverished country, but he will not continue it at the expense of his own power.

Is peace between Ethiopia and Eritrea a good thing? Certainly. But optimism should not cloud diplomats and analysts to reality, nor do dictators like Isaias suddenly change their stripes or behaviors overnight. Realism dictates not only rightly celebrating progress, but also recognizing just how tenuous it may be and planning proactively for the chance that the rapprochement might be fleeting.

Michael Rubin is a resident scholar at the American Enterprise Institute.