Date: Friday, 12 December 2025
The territorial ambitions of Ethiopia – or, more accurately, Abyssinia (present-day northern Ethiopia comprising the Tigray and Amhara regions) – are deep-rooted. They emanate from the thinking that Ethiopia is exceptional and that Ethiopians are a chosen people. The ideological basis is the Kebra Nagast, a 14th-century text that has provided the basis for a divine claim to legitimacy for Ethiopia’s monarchs in the past and even the post-monarchy regimes. It is a myth “linking” Ethiopia to King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. The text argues that Ethiopian emperors are descendants of this union and are the true keepers of the Ark of the Covenant, a belief that shapes Abyssinian national identity.
The narrative’s emphasis on a unique, divinely bestowed status did not extend to the Oromo or other non-Abyssinian Ethiopian elites in the same foundational way, although the monarchy’s narrative and authority were projected over them during Emperor Menelik II’s (1889–1913) conquest of present-day southern Ethiopia. This thinking was inculcated in the elites from all parts of Ethiopia through the educational curriculum and some continue to buy into this narrative to this day. Menelik II used archaeological evidence and the Kebra Nagast narrative to justify his expansion and rule over various regions and peoples, arguing that he was reasserting the authority of the ancient Ethiopian monarchy of which he claimed to be a direct descendant. Emperor Haile Selassie went as far as enshrining the Kebra Nagast in the Ethiopian Constitution of 1955.
The Kebra Nagast asserts that the Ethiopian Solomonic dynasty’s right to rule comes from the direct lineage of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba (Makeda). The text claims that their son, Menelik I, brought the Ark of the Covenant to Ethiopia, making the country its divine guardian and the spiritual successor to ancient Israel. This narrative served as the foundation for Ethiopian state ideology, portraying the monarchy as a divinely ordained and unbroken line of succession stretching back to the biblical kings. It still plays a role in fostering a sense of Ethiopian national identity, cultural pride, and a religious belief centred on its unique status as a biblical kingdom.
It is not far-fetched to assert that this mythical undercurrent is at the root of Prime Minister’s messianic or prophetic “seventh king” obsession.
On October 27, Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed told Parliament that he was “a million per cent certain” that Ethiopia would not remain landlocked, implying that Eritrea should submit before it is too late. Coming in the wake of widespread concerns regarding renewed Ethiopian expansionist ambitions in the last two years, this statement has revived fears that unneighbourly tensions could turn into a regional war. Abiy’s remarks were framed as both a declaration and a warning. He claimed that no one would come to Eritrea’s aid if war broke out and that Ethiopia’s victory is assured and invoked the examples of Ukraine and Palestine to suggest that Eritrea would stand alone, receiving only moral encouragement from Ethiopia’s “historical enemies”.
At the same time, and despite describing Ethiopia’s demand for access to the Red Sea as “irreversible”, Abiy called for mediation by global powers such as the United States, China, Russia, and the European Union. This contradiction between open threats and calls for mediation reveals both the recklessness and the disingenuousness behind Ethiopia’s policy.
Ethiopia’s latest rhetoric over access to the Red Sea also has important implications far beyond its tense relationship with Eritrea. By challenging the modern principle of territorial sovereignty, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed risks destabilizing an already volatile region, fanning the flames of old rivalries, and inviting the involvement of outside powers.
Abiy’s reference to demographic “entitlements” echoes earlier eras of expansionist nationalism when claims of destiny were used to justify territorial conquest and regional upheaval. High-level Ethiopian officials have reinforced Abiy’s position. Field Marshal Birhanu Jula, the army’s chief of staff, described Ethiopia’s landlocked status as “unfair”, arguing that a country of 130 million people – expected to reach 200 million within 25 years – cannot remain blocked from the sea by “a community of two million”. He called this situation “illogical” and “inconsistent with international law” even when there is nothing in international law that entitles non-littoral states to control the sea.
As an example, Bolivia lost its claim against Chile for sovereign access to a Pacific Ocean coastline. Bolivia had lost access after the war of the Pacific (1879–1884), which ended with the 1904 Peace Treaty. In 2018, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) ruled that Chile is not legally obligated to negotiate with Bolivia for sovereign sea access, although both countries can continue discussions in the spirit of “good neighbourliness”. This is the reason why Abiy Ahmed and his hired intellectuals don’t want to pursue their claims at the ICJ; they know that they have no case.
Bolivia uses the port of Arica for its imports and exports and there is no reason for Ethiopia not to use the Eritrea port of Assab provided it drops its aggressive expansionist posturing. Eritrea could consider a limited economic partnership under strict conditions, ensuring that any port access arrangement remains under Eritrean control. Such an agreement could include clear conditions and provisions should the partner violate its terms. Diplomacy should remain Eritrea’s first line of defence.
Eritrea’s response to Ethiopia’s aggressive threats was articulated by Information Minister Yemane Gebremeskel who condemned Abiy’s speech as “incessant sabre-rattling and a war agenda” that risked “fomenting dangerous conflicts” across the Horn. Gebremeskel pointed out Ethiopia’s hypocrisy in hosting the Tana Forum – a regional summit on peace and stability – while its army chief and senior officers continued to escalate their rhetoric. On social media, Gebremeskel accused Ethiopia’s ruling Prosperity Party of “political doublespeak and duplicity that knows no bounds”.
Gebremeskel dismissed Ethiopia’s arguments as dangerous provocations, accusing the country’s leaders of having “nothing to do with good-faith intentions and policies of regional peace”. He warned that the ruling party’s “duplicitous verbal gymnastics” could ignite the kind of instability the Horn of Africa “does not need or deserve”.
Abiy’s posture represents an extraordinarily aggressive move that forces Eritrea to adopt a comprehensive defensive and diplomatic strategy. To protect its sovereignty, Eritrea must leverage international law, build strong alliances, and pursue economic resilience, countering the disinformation campaign and exposing such deliberate wordplay as “sea access” when Ethiopia’s real intention is control and the reversal of Eritrean sovereignty if necessary.
Somalia’s experience in early 2024, when Abiy’s controversial Memorandum of Understanding with Somaliland triggered a diplomatic crisis, provides a cautionary example of how easily such ambitions can escalate into regional tension.
Eritrea can draw on the established principles of international law to resist what it views as an act of neocolonialism. Demanding the cession of a port constitutes a violation of sovereignty, and Eritrea should appeal to the African Union and the UN Security Council to condemn such threats.
It can also build coalitions with sympathetic states such as Egypt, while pursuing military and economic partnerships to deter aggression. Although the international climate may not be immediately favourable, persistence and coordination remain essential.
Uti possidetis, which means “as you possess”, is a principle of international law that originates in Roman law. In modern international law, it is used to maintain stability by having newly independent states inherit the administrative boundaries established by former colonial powers. In Africa’s case, the Organisation of African Unity ultimately affirmed the existing colonial borders.
To raise the cost of aggression, Eritrea is forced to maintain a credible deterrence through joint military exercises with allies like Egypt. Internal cohesion is also essential for a resolute self-defence. Towards this end, the release of political prisoners from Eritrean prisons will help renew faith in a country for which so many gave their lives that it may become a reality. Cynically, Ethiopian Foreign Minister Gedion Timothewos has tried to exploit the tragic human rights situation to justify the reversal of Eritrean independence. It is a supreme irony that, given, the thirty-year genocidal war (1961-91) that Ethiopia waged against Eritrea, an Ethiopian politician should pretend to be an apostle of peace for Eritreans.
Prime Minister Abiy is acting to try to fracture Eritreans internally and bring division among Ethiopians who do not agree with his aggressive stance. Strong internal unity and solidarity with farsighted Ethiopians is essential. It serves as a bulwark for regional stability and as a defence of Eritrean sovereignty.
Abiy’s expansionist rhetoric appears to be driven by domestic pressures. His appeals to nationalism may serve as a distraction from internal political and economic problems. Abiy and his supporters frame access to a seaport as an existential question for Ethiopia, rooted in claims of historical entitlement, territorial security, and demographic necessity. Yet the main existential threat facing Ethiopia does not emanate from lack of control over the Red Sea.Instead, this threat is internal and rooted in the internal contradictions of the Ethiopian state and the failure of successive leaders to manage the country’s ethnic diversity in a manner that fosters inclusion and national unity. Sub-nationalism in Ethiopia is at an all-time high; it has become extremely hazardous to leave the capital or move from region to region within the country. Despite the grandstanding of Abiy and some of the elites, there is hardly any agreement on what Ethiopia means. It is like the Tower of Babel, with people from each region pushing their primordial ethno-nationalism.
Consequently, Abiy’s attempts to portray the challenges Ethiopia faces as external issues by scapegoating Eritrea may serve as a temporary distraction or catharsis but will do nothing to resolve the fundamental problems at the heart of the country’s political settlement.
Proponents of Ethiopia’s claim argue that access to the sea is essential for national survival and economic growth. They cite Ethiopia’s size, population, and history – referring to the ports of Massawa and Assab, which were gobbled up by Ethiopia before Eritrea’s independence in 1993 – as justification for reclaiming coastal access. Others invoke national security, arguing that control of a port would allow Ethiopia to safeguard supply chains and assert its power in the Red Sea.
However, critics reject these arguments as violations of sovereignty and international law. Landlocked countries have the right to transit access under international conventions, but this right does not extend to owning foreign territory.
Both Eritrea and Somalia, and many international legal scholars, warn that Ethiopia’s claims risk destabilizing an already fragile region. Peaceful trade agreements and shared infrastructure projects such as Ethiopia’s existing use of Djibouti’s ports offer far more viable alternatives.
As critics point out, port ownership is not essential for prosperity. There are forty-four landlocked countries in the world, many with thriving economies built on trade partnerships rather than annexation. Ethiopia, which has been landlocked since the independence of Eritrea in 1993, has numerous options through its five coastal neighbours: Eritrea, Sudan, Djibouti, Kenya, and Somalia.
Ethiopia’s current rhetoric revives a long history of territorial ambition. Previous Ethiopian governments have claimed Somali, Djiboutian, and Eritrean territories under the banner of “reunification”. In a 1967 press interview, Haile Selassie asserted that “the Djibouti territory is an integral part of Ethiopia”. The Ethiopian government is even believed to have sponsored the Djibouti Liberation Movement – which sought annexation – until Djibouti’s independence in 1977. After independence, Djibouti has allowed eight world powers to rent and establish military bases on its territory for revenue but no doubt also as a buffer against possible aggression from Ethiopia.
Today, Abiy Ahmed’s government is also accused of reviving irredentism by arming groups in the Afar region. The Afar live in Eritrea, Djibouti and Somalia.
This pattern is not new. In the late 1920s, Haile Selassie sought to annex Zeila, in present-day Somaliland, and later turned to Djibouti and Eritrea. His diplomatic manoeuvring led to the 1952 federation of Eritrea with Ethiopia and the former’s eventual annexation in 1962, sparking the 30-year war for Eritrean independence. Eritrea was a victim of Cold War politics and British and American scheming with Haile Selassie that prevented its right to self-determination like most African countries (with the exception of Spanish Sahara). Eritrea was born not from a redrawing of colonial boundaries but from a return to them. The 1993 referendum overwhelmingly ascertained this. Moreover, during the legal proceedings at The Hague, which rendered its verdict in 2006 following the 1998–2000 war between Eritrea and Ethiopia, Red Sea control was never an issue. Ironically, Abiy was rewarded with the Nobel Prize for peace for publicly promising to implement this verdict.
Today, Abiy’s government invokes a similar logic. By questioning the legitimacy of existing borders and treaties, Ethiopia risks dismantling the legal norms that underpin African stability. If every nation claimed historic grievances as grounds for expansion, the continent would descend into what Thomas Hobbes called a “state of nature”—a world of unending conflict where “the strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must”.
