The Ethiopian highlands have always carried the feeling of endurance. Ancient stone, thin air, roads that wind as if searching for their own meaning. Long before the headlines, these landscapes learned how to hold memory. War, when it arrived, did not change that nature. It only deepened it.
In Addis Ababa, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has spoken openly about atrocities committed during the conflict in the Tigray region, directing sharp criticism toward neighboring Eritrea and its military. His words mark one of the clearest public acknowledgments by Ethiopia’s leadership that foreign forces played a destructive role in a war that has left deep scars across northern Ethiopia.
The conflict, which erupted in late 2020 between federal forces and the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, quickly expanded beyond internal lines. Eritrean troops crossed the border, aligning with Ethiopian federal forces in a campaign that unfolded with devastating consequences for civilians. Reports from human rights organizations and international investigators have described widespread killings, sexual violence, and the destruction of towns and villages.
For months, survivors have spoken in fragments—stories passed quietly between families, whispered in displacement camps, carried in the posture of those who no longer expect justice to arrive quickly. Abiy’s remarks, delivered publicly, do not erase those years of silence. But they alter the official tone.
He has said that Eritrean forces were responsible for some of the most severe abuses, and that their involvement worsened the suffering in Tigray. The comments arrive as Ethiopia continues to navigate a fragile post-war landscape following a 2022 peace agreement that formally ended large-scale fighting between the federal government and Tigrayan forces.
Relations between Addis Ababa and Asmara have long been layered with history. Once bitter enemies, the two governments stunned the world in 2018 by signing a peace deal that earned Abiy international praise and a Nobel Peace Prize. That rapprochement later evolved into military cooperation during the Tigray war—an alliance that now casts a long shadow.
Eritrea has consistently denied committing abuses and has rejected calls for international investigations. Its leadership maintains that its forces acted in self-defense and in support of regional stability. Ethiopia, meanwhile, faces its own questions about accountability for actions taken by its military and allied militias during the conflict.
Abiy’s statement does not yet signal a formal legal process or a detailed roadmap toward justice. But it does suggest an attempt to reshape the narrative, acknowledging that the suffering of Tigray cannot be explained solely as an internal affair.
Across northern Ethiopia, reconstruction moves slowly. Schools reopen with missing teachers. Clinics function with limited supplies. Families search for names that never appear on any list. Peace, in this context, is less a destination than a daily negotiation with loss.
The prime minister has framed national reconciliation as a central goal, arguing that Ethiopia must confront what happened in order to move forward. Whether those words translate into meaningful accountability remains uncertain.
In places where the ground still bears the marks of shelling and fire, memory does not fade on command. It waits.
Abiy’s criticism of Eritrea may represent a small shift in Ethiopia’s public posture. But for those who lived through the war, the larger question lingers in the quiet spaces between statements: not only who is named, but who will answer.
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Sources Reuters Associated Press BBC News Al Jazeera Human Rights Watch