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By Paul Ndiho | Ndiho Media

Ethiopia and Eritrea are once again walking a dangerous line between fragile peace and open conflict. In a letter to UN Secretary-General António Guterres, Ethiopian Foreign Minister Gedion Timothewos accused Eritrea of “actively preparing to wage war” and collaborating with armed groups opposed to the government in Addis Ababa. Eritrea has not commented publicly, but the accusation marks the sharpest deterioration in relations between the two countries since their 2018 peace deal.

“No shots have been fired, at least not yet,” I said in a recent analysis. “But the rhetoric has hardened, the positions have deepened, and the specter of war is once again haunting a region that has already endured decades of bloodshed.”

The roots of this tension go deep. After a 30-year struggle, Eritrea gained independence from Ethiopia in 1993. The joy of liberation quickly gave way to border disputes, culminating in a brutal war from 1998 to 2000 that killed tens of thousands. The Algiers Agreement brought an end to fighting, but the border remained unsettled. For nearly two decades, both countries lived in a cold peace—neither allies nor enemies.

That changed in 2018 when Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed reached out to Eritrean President Isaias Afwerki. The two men signed a landmark peace agreement, reopening embassies and borders. “I remember people boarding Ethiopian flights and meeting loved ones on the tarmac,” I recalled. “For a moment, it felt like the region had finally turned a page.” Abiy went on to win the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts.

But peace in the Horn of Africa can be fleeting. Just a year later, Ethiopia was engulfed in civil war with the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). Eritrea, once an enemy, became Abiy’s ally. The conflict claimed hundreds of thousands of lives and left deep scars. Eritrean troops were accused of some of the worst atrocities, particularly in the ancient city of Aksum. Although a peace deal in 2022 halted major fighting, Eritrea was not a party to the agreement, and tensions soon resurfaced.

At the center of the current dispute is Ethiopia’s desire for access to the sea. Landlocked since Eritrea’s independence, Ethiopia relies on Djibouti for its trade. Abiy has argued that his country has a “right” to Red Sea access, calling it a matter of national survival. Eritrea, which controls the ports of Assab and Massawa, sees that language as a direct threat. “From Asmara’s point of view, Ethiopia’s talk of accessing the Red Sea is not diplomacy—it’s an existential threat,” I said.

If this fragile peace collapses, the consequences could be devastating. The Horn of Africa, already strained by wars in Sudan and Somalia, could face another wave of displacement and instability. The Red Sea, a vital global shipping route, could also become a new front line.

“The Red Sea doesn’t have to become a battlefield,” I said. “It could be a bridge—a shared artery of trade and connection. But that will only happen if both sides stop seeing each other as threats and start seeing themselves as neighbors with intertwined destinies.”

Paul Ndiho is a multimedia journalist and founder of Ndiho Media, covering African innovation, politics, and global affairs.