Four years after a war that killed hundreds of thousands, Ethiopia stands once again at the edge of catastrophe — not because peace was impossible, but because it was promised and then quietly dismantled. A coalition of seven armed groups has unified across the country's north, driven less by sudden grievance than by the slow accumulation of broken commitments: fuel withheld, elections denied, interim structures never built. The army speaks of restraint while the ground speaks of war, and the distance between those two languages may determine whether the 2022 Pretoria Agreement becomes a footn
Ethiopia's military pledges restraint as armed alliance threatens new civil war
What was supposed to be temporary became permanent.
So the army chief says restraint, but the fighting is spreading across three regions. What's actually happening on the ground?
Seven armed groups formed an alliance specifically to remove the government. They're not scattered militias—they're coordinated. The military reported 272 killed and 260 wounded in one counter-offensive alone, and that's just one engagement.
We should note those casualty figures come from the military itself. The TPLF says it was a full-scale offensive with drones and mechanized units. We're hearing both sides' versions, not independent verification.
Why now? The ceasefire held for four years.
The 2022 agreement promised things that never happened. Tigray was supposed to get fuel, cash, an interim administration. Instead, restrictions stayed in place and Tigray was excluded from elections.
That's the federal government's account of what was promised versus what was delivered. It's credible, but it's also a narrative that justifies armed resistance. We should be clear about what we know versus what's being argued.
And Eritrea's involvement—is that confirmed?
The army chief directly accused Eritrea of funding the alliance. Eritrea denies it. The UN hasn't independently verified either claim, but the accusation itself shows how regional powers are getting pulled in.
Right. We have an accusation and a denial. We don't have evidence. That's important to hold.
What does this mean for the ceasefire?
It's under severe strain. This is the most serious challenge since 2022. If it breaks completely, you could see a return to the kind of war that killed hundreds of thousands.
And we should note: Washington just lifted sanctions on both countries weeks ago, saying the emergency had expired. That removed one external pressure to keep the peace.
So the timing is significant.
Very. The agreement was fragile to begin with. Now you have coordinated armed groups, regional powers involved, and fewer external constraints.
The Pulse
- Seven armed groups have merged into a single alliance explicitly committed to removing Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, marking the most coordinated challenge to Ethiopia's government since the civil war ended.
- Fighting has erupted simultaneously across Tigray, Afar, and Amhara, with hundreds reported killed or wounded and the TPLF declaring the situation has become 'full war.'
- The army chief publicly blames Eritrea for funding the rebellion, drawing a neighboring regional power deeper into a conflict that was supposed to be contained — while internet blackouts and reported drone strikes on civilians raise the humanitarian alarm.
- Washington's recent lifting of sanctions on both Ethiopia and Eritrea removed a key external pressure on the parties, arriving just as the violence was intensifying.
- The Pretoria Agreement's core promises — an interim Tigray administration, restored services, military integration — were never fulfilled, and legal experts say the federal government bears primary responsibility for that failure.
- Ethiopia's president addressed the UN General Assembly as a voice of regional stability even as his own military traded accusations of foreign interference with the very neighbor it needs to keep at bay.
Four years after a war that killed hundreds of thousands, Ethiopia stands once again at the edge of catastrophe — not because peace was impossible, but because it was promised and then quietly dismantled. A coalition of seven armed groups has unified across the country's north, driven less by sudden grievance than by the slow accumulation of broken commitments: fuel withheld, elections denied, interim structures never built. The army speaks of restraint while the ground speaks of war, and the distance between those two languages may determine whether the 2022 Pretoria Agreement becomes a footnote or a foundation.
Ethiopia's army chief, Field Marshal Berhanu Jula, stepped before cameras this week to project calm — describing the military's response to northern provocations as measured and deliberate. But the landscape he was describing had already shifted beneath him. Seven armed groups, now unified under the Ethiopian Peoples' Forces Alliance for Survival, have launched coordinated offensives across Tigray, Afar, and Amhara, explicitly committed to toppling Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed's government. The military reported killing and wounding hundreds of Tigrayan fighters in a single counter-offensive; the TPLF said the federal government had launched a full-scale assault using infantry, mechanized units, and drones. A senior TPLF official called it simply: full war.
Behind Jula's posture of restraint lies a web of regional accusations. He blamed Eritrea directly for funding and arming the rebel coalition — a charge Eritrea denied, but one that signals how neighboring powers are being pulled into a conflict that was supposed to be over. The UN expressed alarm over drone strikes targeting civilians. Internet service across northern Ethiopia was cut the following day.
The root of this crisis is the 2022 Pretoria Agreement, which ended a two-year civil war of staggering human cost. That ceasefire carried specific promises: an interim administration for Tigray, restored fuel and cash flows, integration of Tigrayan fighters into the national army. None of it was delivered. Restrictions on services remained. Tigray was excluded from national elections. What was framed as temporary became structural. Law professor Alemayehu Weldemariam told Al Jazeera the agreement was 'primarily sabotaged by the federal government itself,' and that political isolation became the very engine driving recruitment into armed opposition.
The timing sharpens the danger. Just weeks before the fighting intensified, Washington lifted sanctions on Ethiopia and Eritrea that had been tied to wartime atrocities, declaring the national emergency had passed — removing one of the few remaining external pressures on both governments to hold the peace. Meanwhile, Abiy addressed the UN General Assembly as a stabilizing regional force, even as his own military accused a neighboring state of fueling the war at home. Whether the army's stated preference for 'strategic calm' can survive a seven-group coalition operating across three regions — and committed to regime change — is the question now hanging over Ethiopia and the wider Horn of Africa.
Ethiopia's military leadership is publicly pledging to handle escalating tensions with restraint, even as armed groups across the country's north launch coordinated attacks that threaten to shatter a fragile four-year ceasefire and plunge the nation back into civil war.
Field Marshal Berhanu Jula, the army's chief of staff, made his first public statement on the deteriorating situation this week, framing the military's response to what he termed provocations from Tigray as measured and deliberate. Yet the facts on the ground tell a different story. Seven armed groups have formed a unified alliance—the Ethiopian Peoples' Forces Alliance for Survival—explicitly committed to toppling Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed's government. Fighting has erupted across three regions: Tigray, where the conflict originated; Afar, where recent battles centered on the town of Abala; and Amhara, particularly in North Wollo along the Tigray border. The military reported killing 272 Tigrayan fighters and wounding 260 in a single counter-offensive, while the Tigray People's Liberation Front countered that the federal government had launched a full-scale assault involving infantry, mechanized units, and drones. A central committee member of the TPLF told journalists the situation had become "full war."
Jula's public posture of restraint masks deeper accusations and strategic calculations. He directly blamed Eritrea for funding and arming the rebel coalition, characterizing the alliance as dependent on external support to pose any real threat to the state. Eritrea, which shares a tense border with Ethiopia and fears landlocked Ethiopia might invade to gain Red Sea access, denied the charges. The accusation itself signals how regional powers are being drawn into what was supposed to be a contained conflict. Internet service was cut across northern Ethiopia on Friday—a move that came a day after the United Nations expressed alarm over reports of drone strikes targeting civilians in the region.
The immediate trigger for this new violence is the 2022 Pretoria Agreement, which ended a devastating two-year civil war that killed hundreds of thousands and displaced millions. That ceasefire is now under severe strain. The agreement promised an interim administration for Tigray, fuel and cash flows to the region, and integration of Tigrayan forces into the national military structure. None of that materialized as promised. Instead, restrictions on fuel, services, and money to Tigray remained in place. Tigrayan representatives were excluded from national elections held since the ceasefire. What was meant to be temporary became permanent.
Alemayehu Weldemariam, a law professor at Indiana University, told Al Jazeera that the federal government bears primary responsibility for the agreement's collapse. The provisions for ending hostilities were "primarily sabotaged by the federal government itself," he said, pointing to the fuel and cash restrictions and the failure to establish the promised interim structures. The exclusion of Tigray from electoral processes deepened the breach. What began as a ceasefire has become a form of political isolation, and isolation has become a recruiting tool for armed groups promising change.
The timing adds another layer of complexity. Just weeks before this fighting intensified, Washington lifted sanctions on Ethiopia and Eritrea that had been tied to documented atrocities during the previous war, declaring that the "national emergency" justifying those penalties had expired. That decision removed one external pressure on the parties to maintain the peace. Meanwhile, Ethiopia's president addressed the United Nations General Assembly, portraying his country as a stabilizing force in the region while accusing unnamed external actors of interference—a framing that sits uneasily with the military's own accusations against Eritrea.
What makes this moment particularly dangerous is its scale and coordination. Previous flare-ups involved single groups or localized clashes. This alliance of seven armed groups, operating across multiple regions and explicitly unified around a political goal, represents the most serious challenge to the ceasefire since it was signed. The military's stated preference for "strategic calm" over large-scale confrontation suggests confidence in its ability to contain the fighting, but the spread of combat across Tigray, Afar, and Amhara, combined with reports of forced recruitment of young men and civilian casualties from drone strikes, indicates the conflict is already widening. Whether restraint can hold when seven armed groups are coordinated and committed to regime change remains the urgent question facing Ethiopia and the region.
Notable Quotes
This war has been in the making for a while now. Much of the provisions in the cessation of hostilities were primarily sabotaged by the federal government itself.— Alemayehu Weldemariam, law professor at Indiana University
The situation had become a full war.— Abdisalam Balema, TPLF central committee member