The legitimacy of any election rests on the extent to which the environment it is held under is free, fair and democratic. An enabling environment presupposes the existence of conditions where political parties can organize freely, candidates can campaign without fear, voters can access information and polling stations safely, the media can operate independently, and civil society can observe and participate without obstruction. In Ethiopia today, these conditions cannot be assumed; they must be carefully examined and honestly reported. Ongoing armed conflicts, restrictions on political activity in some regions, and persistent allegations of arbitrary detention and intimidation raise serious questions about electoral readiness.

As the constitutionally mandated body responsible for administering elections, NEBE has both a legal obligation and a moral responsibility to assess these realities and communicate its findings to the public. Silence or ambiguity would not be neutral acts; they would risk eroding public confidence and inviting speculation, polarization, and mistrust. Ethiopians deserve to know whether the circumstances allow them to exercise their democratic rights meaningfully, or whether extraordinary measures—including postponement or phased elections—may be necessary to preserve the integrity of the process.

Crucially, such an assessment must be credible. This means it cannot be confined to internal deliberations or selective consultations. NEBE must engage widely with political parties across the spectrum, regional electoral offices, civil society organizations, media institutions, security bodies, traditional and religious leaders, women’s and youth groups, and communities in conflict-affected areas. An assessment that excludes dissenting voices or marginalized regions would be fundamentally flawed and would fail to capture the lived realities of millions of voters.

Transparency is equally essential. The methodology, criteria, and findings of the assessment should be made public. Ethiopians should understand what benchmarks NEBE uses to define an enabling environment, how data is collected, and what risks have been identified. Transparency does not weaken institutions; it strengthens them by inviting scrutiny and building trust. In a deeply polarized political climate, openness is one of the few tools available to counter misinformation and conspiracy narratives that thrive in the absence of credible information.

Informing the public is also a matter of institutional independence. NEBE’s credibility depends on its ability to act—and be seen to act—free from political pressure. Publicly communicating its assessment is essential to enable the Board convey the message that electoral integrity, not political expediency, guides its decisions. This is particularly important in Ethiopia’s context, where past elections have been marred by boycotts, uneven participation, and disputes over fairness. A forthright assessment would signal a break from past practices and demonstrate a commitment to democratic norms.

There are also important preventive benefits to public disclosure. A clear-eyed assessment can serve as an early warning system, identifying gaps that can still be addressed before election day. If certain regions lack security, targeted interventions can be planned. If legal or administrative barriers are restricting political competition, reforms can be prioritized. If trust deficits are identified, confidence-building measures can be undertaken. Concealing or downplaying problems, by contrast, ensures that they will surface later in more destabilizing forms.

Some may argue that publicly acknowledging an insufficient enabling environment could undermine confidence or embolden spoilers. This concern misunderstands the source of legitimacy. Confidence does not come from optimistic declarations detached from reality; it comes from honesty and accountability. Pretending conditions are adequate when they are not would only guarantee that the election’s outcome is contested and its legitimacy questioned. In fragile democracies, flawed elections are often more destabilizing than delayed ones.

International partners and observers are also watching closely. Ethiopia’s electoral process carries implications beyond its borders, influencing diplomatic relations, development cooperation, and regional stability. A transparent assessment by NEBE would not signal weakness; it would demonstrate maturity and responsibility. It would also provide a factual basis for international engagement that respects Ethiopia’s sovereignty while supporting democratic standards.

Ultimately, the question is not whether elections should be held at all costs, but whether they should be held with integrity. NEBE’s duty is not to the electoral calendar alone, but to the Ethiopian people and their constitutional right to genuine political participation. If the Board is to make a meaningful contribution towards ensuring that the 7th general elections, whenever and however they are held, contribute to peace, legitimacy, and democratic renewal rather than deepening division, it has no option but to undertake a credible, inclusive, and transparent assessment and by informing the public of its conclusions.

In a moment of national uncertainty, honesty is not a risk; it is a necessity.

Gambella’s fragility can be traced to a long history of marginalization. Despite its strategic location along the South Sudan border and its immense agricultural and ecological potential, the region has remained one of Ethiopia’s least developed. Infrastructure is limited, access to education and health services is uneven, and employment opportunities are scarce. This chronic underdevelopment has created fertile ground for resentment, particularly among youth who see little stake in the political or economic order. When violence erupts, it is often an expression of accumulated grievances rather than spontaneous hostility. Ethiopia’s ethno-centric federalism, while designed to empower local communities, has also arguably contributed to Gambella’s instability. The region is home to diverse groups, most notably the Anuak and Nuer, whose relationships have been shaped by historical competition over land, political representation, and access to resources. Administrative boundaries and power-sharing arrangements have sometimes hardened ethnic identities, turning political competition into zero-sum contests. When institutions fail to manage these tensions fairly, disputes over governance quickly take on an ethnic dimension, escalating local disagreements into broader communal confrontations.

The proximity of Gambella to South Sudan adds another layer of complexity. Decades of conflict across the border have produced massive refugee flows, arms proliferation, and cross-border ethnic ties that blur the line between domestic and regional insecurity. While Ethiopia has shown remarkable generosity in hosting refugees, the strain on local resources and services has been significant. In the absence of robust integration and support mechanisms, competition over land, water, and livelihoods have predictably spilled into violence. The circulation of small arms and the militarization of local actors have further increased the lethality of conflicts that might otherwise have been contained.

State presence in Gambella has often been inconsistent and overly securitized. Periods of neglect have alternated with heavy-handed interventions that focus on short-term control over long-term trust-building. Security forces are frequently deployed after violence has already erupted, rather than as part of a sustained preventive strategy. This reactive approach undermines public confidence and reinforces perceptions that the state is either absent or biased. When communities believe that justice will not be delivered through formal institutions, they turn to self-defense and retaliation, perpetuating cycles of violence. Land policy has further played a critical role in shaping tensions. The region’s fertile land has attracted large-scale agricultural investments, often implemented without adequate consultation with local communities. Displacement, loss of customary land rights, and environmental degradation has intensified feelings of dispossession. For communities whose livelihoods and identities are closely tied to land, such disruptions are not merely economic but existential. Without transparent and inclusive land governance. development initiatives risk becoming drivers of conflict rather than engines of stability.

Addressing the conflict in Gambella therefore requires a fundamental shift in approach. Though ramping up security measures may be necessary to stop immediate violence, they are incapable of supplanting political solutions. The long-term answer lies in rebuilding trust between communities and the state, and among communities themselves. This begins with inclusive dialogue that acknowledges historical grievances and creates space for locally grounded conflict-resolution mechanisms. Traditional elders, women, youth, and religious leaders must be meaningfully involved, not treated as symbolic participants in externally driven processes. Equally important is institutional reform. Regional governance structures must be strengthened to ensure fair representation, accountability, and the rule of law. Disputes over political power should be resolved through transparent processes as opposed to informal bargains or coercion. Law enforcement and judicial institutions need capacity-building and oversight so that justice is not only done but seen to be done, regardless of ethnic affiliation.

Economic development must also be reimagined. Investment in Gambella should prioritize local livelihoods, sustainable agriculture, and job creation, particularly for youth. Land policies must respect customary rights and ensure that communities benefit directly from development projects. When people see tangible improvements in their daily lives, the appeal of violence diminishes.

Gambella’s challenges cannot be separated from regional dynamics. Coordinated cross-border cooperation with South Sudan, focusing on arms control, refugee support, and conflict prevention, is essential. As such Ethiopia’s federal government must work closely with regional authorities and international partners to ensure that Gambella is treated as a central component of national stability, not as a peripheral concern.

The conflict in Gambella is a warning; it should not be viewed as an inevitability. It reflects the costs of neglect, exclusion, and reactive governance. A durable peace will not come from the barrel of a gun or from temporary calm imposed by force. It will come from addressing the systemic factors that have long undermined trust and cohesion. If everyone who has the welfare of Ethiopia and its people is serious about building a stable and inclusive future, Gambella must be understood not as a remote frontier, but as a test of the country’s commitment to justice, equity, and shared citizenship.

Seven years later, however, the optimism that defined the premier’s first months in office has been tempered, if not eclipsed, by a troubling reversal. A December 2025 report by The Observatory for the Protection of Human Rights Defenders, a joint initiative of the International Federation for Human Rights (FIDH) and the World Organization Against Torture (OMCT), as well successive reports by the state-appointed Ethiopian Human Rights Commission and other human rights advocates capture the starkness of this transformation. The reports document a sustained crackdown on activists, journalists, and civil society organizations, painting a picture that contrasts sharply with the reformist narrative that once earned global praise for the Prime Minister’s administration.

The story of Ethiopia’s human rights landscape since 2018 is not linear. It is a story of two radically different trajectories: one of early expansion of freedoms, and another of painful contraction as conflict and political fragmentation reshaped the state’s calculus of power. Understanding this duality is essential to charting a path forward. Prime Minister Abiy’s initial reforms were not superficial. They were sweeping and transformative enough to earn him the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize. Prisons were opened. Exiled opposition figures returned. Media outlets flourished. Civil society organizations began to breathe after years of suffocation under a restrictive legal regime. The digital space exploded with new voices, activism, and political engagement.

But beneath the surface, Ethiopia remained a nation layered with unresolved structural tensions characterized by ethno-centric federalism without consensus, competing nationalisms, deep historical grievances, and a security apparatus long accustomed to impunity. Though the opening of political space engendered hopes, it also unleashed rivalries that the state was ill-prepared to mediate peacefully. The outbreak of the Tigray conflict in November 2020 marked a definitive turning point. During the two-year war Ethiopia witnessed some of the gravest human rights violations in its modern history. Reports by international and local human rights organizations—detailing mass atrocities, sexual violence, forced displacement, and arbitrary detention, among others—have left deep scars on the national conscience. Other regions, from Oromia to Amhara to Benishangul Gumuz, have endured cycles of violence that continue to claim lives and displace communities.

It is in this volatile political environment that the crackdown on human rights defenders intensified. Despite the government’s strenuous denial, its actions reveal a pattern of harassment, surveillance, arbitrary arrests, digital intimidation, and administrative restrictions targeting those who document abuses or challenge official narratives. The country that once applauded dissent as part of its democratic rebirth has increasingly framed criticism as a threat to stability or sovereignty. Journalists have been detained on allegations of disinformation or terrorism. Civil society organizations reporting on conflict-related abuses face bureaucratic stonewalling or threats. Regional authorities, empowered by emergency measures, have arrested activists with little or no legal process. Once a space for vibrant debate, social media have increasingly become a battleground of state monitoring and aggressive content manipulation.

This deterioration cannot be divorced from Ethiopia’s broader crisis of governance. The state is confronted with enormous challenges: rebuilding communities shattered by war, managing deep-seated political fractures, stabilizing an economy strained by inflation and debt, and navigating a volatile regional environment. Yet none of these challenges justify the suppression of human rights defenders. On the contrary, their work is indispensable to rebuilding trust, exposing truth, and preventing future abuses. Human rights are not luxuries to be suspended during instability; they are the foundation of any path back to stability. Ethiopia’s recent history is itself proof of this. Where civic space shrinks, conflict thrives. Where voices are silenced, grievances harden. Where accountability evaporates, the seeds of future violence are sown.

As Human Rights Day is observed across the world, the government has an opportunity and indeed an obligation to reaffirm its early promises by resetting its relationship with civil society and human rights defenders. This requires concrete steps: ending arbitrary detentions; ensuring due process; protecting journalists; enabling independent investigations into wartime and peacetime abuses; reforming security institutions; and creating political space for dissent, advocacy, and dialogue. International partners, for their part, must support—not supplant—domestic efforts for justice and political reconciliation, while consistently insisting that human rights remain non-negotiable.

Ethiopia is not condemned to repeat the cycles of its past. The aspirations that the 2018 reforms gave rise to have not disappeared; they have merely been overshadowed. They can be rekindled if the country recommits to a human rights agenda grounded in accountability, openness, and the protection of those courageous enough to defend the dignity of others. The celebration of Human Rights Day should serve not as a symbolic gesture, but as a reminder that if Ethiopia’s future is to be peaceful, democratic, and united it depends on safeguarding the very freedoms that once inspired a nation and the world.

The Horn of Africa is among the world’s most geopolitically sensitive regions—straddling the Red Sea, the Gulf of Aden, and crucial maritime chokepoints that carry a significant share of global trade. The global contest among major powers is increasingly manifested through port access, security partnerships, and economic influence across countries like Djibouti, Sudan, Somalia, and Eritrea. Meanwhile, Middle Eastern states, motivated by food security, trade corridors, and political influence, have deepened their involvement. For Ethiopia—Africa’s second-most populous country and a historic anchor of the continent—these shifts create both opportunities and vulnerabilities. Its geographic position offers possibilities to diversify partnerships and strengthen regional integration. Yet, it also exposes the country to heightened competition for influence and sometimes conflicting external agendas.

Historically, Ethiopia has been a pillar of collective security in Africa. From hosting the African Union headquarters to leading peacekeeping missions, its diplomatic identity has long been intertwined with multilateral engagement. Revitalizing this tradition is essential. Accordingly, it is incumbent on it to utilize such institutions as the African Union (AU), Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD), and the Eastern Africa Standby Force (EASF) as platforms through which it advances its vision for stability. While these institutions are imperfect, they nonetheless provide structured mechanisms for conflict prevention, dialogue, and cooperation, reducing the chances of disputes spiraling into open confrontation. Multilateralism also helps Ethiopia avoid overreliance on any single external actor. Maintaining equidistance among competing powers—whether in the Gulf, Europe, Asia, or the West—is instrumental in enabling the country preserve policy autonomy and widen its room for maneuver.

The region’s evolving landscape demands that Ethiopia ground its actions in strategic restraint and proactive diplomacy. Issues such as access to the sea—an understandable and legitimate national interest—must be pursued through patient negotiation, multilateral frameworks, and cooperative arrangements rather than through any bellicose rhetoric or initiatives that risk escalating tensions. With the Red Sea corridor already strained by the war in Yemen and the security vacuum in parts of Somalia, the expansion of foreign military bases, and fluctuating political alliances, even small missteps can lead to outsized consequences. A measured and predictable foreign policy is essential to prevent misunderstandings, reassure neighbors, and maintain Ethiopia’s credibility as a responsible regional actor. This does not mean though that Ethiopia should shirk from asserting its interests. Rather, assertion must be coupled with respect for international norms and a clear articulation of long-term objectives—especially regarding sea access and regional security cooperation.

The foundation of any sustainable geopolitical strategy must be economic strength. Ethiopia’s ability to influence regional dynamics rests foremost on stabilizing its domestic economy, attracting investment, and rebuilding vital infrastructure. Advancing regional trade integration, expanding cross-border energy and transportation networks, and developing shared economic corridors can create mutually reinforcing incentives for cooperation. At the same time, Ethiopia must continue working to ease internal political tensions and restore national coherence. Stability at home is not only a prerequisite for development; it is also a signal to regional partners that Ethiopia remains a predictable and constructive actor. Above all, Ethiopia must articulate a consistent and coherent national strategy that transcends momentary pressures and political fluctuations. The past decade has seen shifting foreign policy signals that sometimes undermined clarity. A stable strategy rooted in long-term interests, non-interference, balanced partnerships, regional integration, and strategic patience would allow it to better navigate an increasingly complex environment. Such clarity would reassure neighbors, mitigate external suspicion, and strengthen its negotiating position on all fronts.

Ultimately, Ethiopia’s future—and much of East Africa’s—will depend on decisions made today. In a region marked by heightened geopolitical competition and fragile political landscapes, Ethiopia has the opportunity to position itself as a steadying force. Grounding its policies in diplomatic wisdom, economic pragmatism, and renewed multilateral engagement will go a long way towards allowing the country to protect its national interests while contributing to a more stable and cooperative regional order. Prudence, not pressure, should define Ethiopia’s path forward, ensuring that its leadership reflects both its historical stature and its aspirations for a peaceful and prosperous East Africa.

For years, Ethiopians have watched public resources meant for education, health, infrastructure, and agriculture diverted into private pockets. What should have been a state that wields economic and political clout has been hollowed out from within by networks of patronage, opaque procurement systems, and a culture of impunity that shields those with connections. The result is a state where rules on paper bear little relation to practices on the ground—where it is often easier to pay a bribe than to obtain a legally entitled service, and where public office becomes less a vehicle for serving citizens and more an instrument for personal accumulation.

Corruption strikes hardest at ordinary people. Every stolen birr means a hospital or road that is never built, textbooks that never reach classrooms, or fertilizer that arrives late, overpriced, or adulterated. Petty corruption, meanwhile, forces citizens to navigate daily indignities and expenses: illegal payments for ID cards, school placements, or utility connections. The poor, who can least afford these hidden taxes, shoulder the heaviest burden. Corruption thus entrenches inequality and fuels social resentment, leaving citizens feeling alienated from a state they increasingly feel they can no longer trust.

The damage is not merely economic. Corruption corrodes the moral fabric of society. It creates a culture where success is measured not by hard work or innovation, but by whom one knows, what one can manipulate, or what one can illicitly extract. It fosters cynicism and hopelessness, especially among young people who see corruption as the primary currency through which opportunity is allocated. Ethiopia cannot expect political stability or national unity when many believe the system is rigged.

For businesses, corruption is a hidden tax that inflates costs, discourages competition, and deters investment. Investors who face unpredictable rules, arbitrary fees, or predatory bureaucrats either abandon projects or demand unrealistic returns to offset their risks. Meanwhile, honest Ethiopian entrepreneurs find themselves undercut by competitors who obtain contracts or permits through bribes rather than merit. The result is an economy that grows more slowly, creates fewer jobs, and rewards the wrong behaviors.

Despite these dangers, corruption has often been treated as an unfortunate but tolerable phenomenon—something to be lamented, but rarely confronted. Though Ethiopia has no shortage of laws, anti-corruption agencies, and audit institutions, their influence has been weak, inconsistent, or constrained by political interference. In some cases, anti-corruption campaigns have been used selectively, targeting certain officials while leaving others untouched. Such selective enforcement only deepens public skepticism and reinforces the belief that accountability is a tool for internal political battles rather than genuine reform.

If Ethiopia is to break this cycle, the fight against corruption needs to be systematic, impartial, and rooted in structural reform rather than episodic prosecutions. This calls for strong, independent oversight institutions with real authority, resources, and political protection. Anti-corruption bodies should not merely react to scandals; they should exert greater effort to prevent them by scrutinizing, among others, areas susceptible to corruption—procurement, licensing, and public financial management systems. Expanding the digitalization of government services would go some way towards reducing opportunities for bribery by minimizing human discretion. Transparency, not secrecy, must become the default setting of governance.

But institutional reform alone is not enough. The political leadership must model the integrity it demands of others. Anti-corruption efforts collapse when officials preach accountability while protecting allies or shielding themselves from scrutiny. The message from the top must be unmistakable: no one is above the law, and public office is a public trust. This requires courage, because corruption networks often have powerful patrons. Absent such resolve, no reform will endure. Civil society, the media, and citizens themselves must also play active roles. Whistle-blowers need legal protection. Journalists must be free to investigate and expose abuses without fear. And citizens should be empowered to report corruption through safe and anonymous channels. Public oversight, when combined with institutional reform, creates a powerful deterrent. Most importantly, anti-corruption efforts must be linked to broader economic and political reforms. When systems are opaque, excessively centralized, or burdened by heavy bureaucracy, corruption flourishes. Simplifying regulations, devolving authority responsibly, strengthening local accountability, and promoting competitive markets are sure to reduce incentives for graft.

The imperative is clear: Ethiopia cannot achieve peace, prosperity, or national cohesion unless it confronts corruption head-on. The nation’s future depends on restoring public trust and ensuring that resources serve the many rather than enriching the few. Corruption is not merely a moral failing—it is a development emergency, a security threat, and a barrier to the aspirations of millions. The time for half-measures is over. The country must choose integrity over impunity, transparency over secrecy, and justice over convenience. Its progress hinges on this choice—and history will judge its leaders by whether they had the courage to make it.

Given transportation is the backbone of Ethiopia’s economy, raising fuel prices is certain to unleash a chain reaction that touches every sector. A 30 percent tax on fuel increases operational costs for bus operators, truckers, agricultural distributors, and small business owners who depend on mobility. These costs inevitably move down the line, emerging as higher fares for commuters and elevated prices for food, manufactured goods, and construction materials. Inflation—which has been stubbornly high—risks accelerating further as businesses pass on their added expenses. The impact is regressive. Low-income households, whose budgets are already strained by rising living costs, shoulder a disproportionate share of the burden. In rural areas, where access to schools, clinics, and markets often involves long travel distances, the strain becomes even more pronounced.

Small enterprises are particularly vulnerable. Minibus taxi operators, delivery drivers, and small-scale transport services already operate with thin profit margins. An abrupt hike in fuel costs threatens their viability, and some may be forced to reduce routes, raise fares informally, or abandon operations altogether. When transport becomes unreliable or unaffordable, economic activity slows, wages stagnate, and communities become more isolated.

Food security is also at stake. Ethiopia’s food distribution network relies heavily on long-haul transport to move produce from rural farming regions to urban centers. Increasing fuel costs raises the cost of moving grain, vegetables, and livestock to markets, and these increases feed directly into higher consumer prices. For households that spend a large share of their income on food, even a modest rise in staple prices brings real hardship.

Despite these challenges, the long-term justification for fuel cost recovery remains compelling. Reducing subsidies helps Ethiopia to improve fiscal sustainability, limit smuggling incentives, and encourage more efficient energy use. International creditors and development partners have long urged the country to rationalize its fuel pricing structure, and the reform could help unlock concessional financing or investment. Over time, higher fuel prices might also stimulate the adoption of renewable energy, electric vehicles, more efficient transport, and better urban planning. But these benefits are slow to materialize, while the pain for households is immediate.

For the reform to succeed without deepening hardship, it is incumbent on the government to adopt targeted measures to ease the transition. Cost recovery does not mean abandoning the vulnerable; it means ensuring that subsidies flow only to those who need them most. Targeted assistance—whether through digital cash transfers, support for public buses, relief for agricultural cooperatives, or subsidies for emergency services—can help soften the blow. Equally important is ensuring that public transport operators can remain functional and affordable. Temporary rebates for buses, access to credit for upgrading vehicles, and accelerated investment in electric bus fleets could provide stability at a critical time.

Strengthening the resilience of the food supply chain is of the essence as well. Removing unnecessary road checkpoints, improving rural road maintenance, and providing limited support to transporters of agricultural goods can curb the worst inflationary pressures. Transparency is also vital: citizens must understand how fuel prices are calculated, what the new tax revenues fund, and what protections exist for low-income groups. Clear communication builds trust in an environment where suspicion and frustration can easily overshadow economic logic.

Ultimately, none of this will matter if Ethiopia does not invest in reliable, affordable alternatives to petroleum-based transport. Mass transit systems, expanded electrification, renewable energy production, and incentives for electric motorcycles and small vehicles are not luxuries but necessities for a future in which fuel dependency poses increasing economic risk.

The government’s decision to impose a 30 percent fuel tax may be justified and even necessary, but its success hinges on pairing fiscal discipline with robust social protection. Reforms of this magnitude demand a holistic approach—one that balances economic reality with compassion, foresight, and transparency. Fuel reform can strengthen Ethiopia’s economy and safeguard its future. But it must not come at the expense of those least able to bear the cost.

The significance of COP32 cannot be overstated, arriving at a pivotal juncture in climate diplomacy. The period following the Paris Agreement has been a mixed record of achievements and frustrations. Landmark moments—such as the coal and methane commitments at COP26 and the creation of the “Loss and Damage” fund at COP27—have been undermined by a persistent failure to follow through with adequate funding and action. Even the historic consensus at COP28 to transition away from fossil fuels left critical questions about the speed and fairness of that shift unanswered. In this broader context of broken promises, stalled ambition, and financing shortfalls, Ethiopia’s hosting of COP32 takes on added significance. The world will watch expectantly whether Ethiopia can help push the global climate agenda beyond rhetoric and toward action rooted in equity.

Ethiopia’s wide-ranging initiatives on climate issues make a strong case for it. The country has long framed climate action as integral to its development strategy, not tangential to it. It has invested in hydropower and other renewable energy resources, promoted climate-resilient agriculture, and launched the Green Legacy Initiative—an ambitious reforestation campaign that has drawn global recognition. These efforts, though sometimes debated domestically, allow Ethiopia to enter the global climate arena with both aspirations and practical experience. Hosting COP32 enables Ethiopia to position itself as a bridge between developed and developing nations, between African priorities and global frameworks, and between environmental ambition and developmental realities.

Ethiopia’s most significant contribution though may lie in its ability to amplify Africa’s collective climate financing demands. For decades, African countries have called for fair, predictable, and adequate climate finance to support adaptation, mitigation, and loss and damage. The promised USD 100 billion per year—first pledged in 2009—remains unmet. Meanwhile, the continent loses an estimated USD 7–15 billion annually to climate impacts, a figure expected to rise sharply in coming decades. For Ethiopia, a nation blighted by recurrent drought, food insecurity, and infrastructure vulnerability, these numbers are not abstract—they are lived experiences. COP32 offers a rare platform to make these realities visible at the highest diplomatic level. Ethiopia can champion a financing agenda that goes beyond symbolic pledges and pushes for structural commitments: a reformed global climate finance architecture, debt-for-climate swaps, concessional financing for vulnerable nations, and faster disbursement mechanisms for loss and damage funds. Ethiopia should also use the summit to highlight Africa’s comparative advantage in renewable energy, green minerals, and carbon sequestration—areas where investment can create shared global benefits.

Yet the significance of hosting COP32 also brings immense expectations—and Ethiopia must address several internal challenges if it is to assume the role of an effective convener. The success of previous COPs has depended heavily on the host country’s political stability, diplomatic capacity, and logistical preparedness. COP21 succeeded in large part because France invested years of diplomatic effort into brokering global consensus. COP27 succeeded in elevating African voices because Egypt strongly pushed adaptation and loss-and-damage issues. COP28 leveraged the United Arab Emirates’ financial and organizational capacity to drive outcomes on energy transition and funding. For COP32 to matter, Ethiopia must demonstrate similar readiness.

The foremost challenge is political stability and national cohesion. Climate diplomacy thrives in environments where the host country projects unity and predictability. Ethiopia, however, has endured multiple conflicts in recent years. If it hopes to lead a global summit on cooperation, it must first strengthen its internal consensus-building mechanisms, ease political grievances, and reduce insecurity in conflict-prone areas. A COP cannot succeed amidst instability; the world will expect Ethiopia to demonstrate peace as a prerequisite for credibility. Logistical and infrastructural constraints pose obstacles as well. COPs routinely attract over 30,000 participants. Ethiopia will need world-class conference facilities, reliable transport systems, adequate accommodation, stable electricity and internet access, and streamlined security protocols. While the success of the Second Africa Climate Summit, which it hosted in September 2025, can stand it in good stead, hosting an event of this magnitude will require significant investment and coordination. As such it is of the essence to begin preparations early to avoid the pitfalls that have plagued other large-scale events.

Ethiopia must further strengthen its environmental governance and data transparency. As host, it will face scrutiny over its own environmental policies, land use systems, emissions tracking, and climate adaptation programs. Accordingly, it is incumbent on it to demonstrate progress, not just declarations. Transparent reporting, stronger environmental institutions, and community-engaged climate projects will bolster Ethiopia’s legitimacy. This needs to be complimented by bestowing on COP32 the status of a national project, not a government project. Civil society, academia, youth groups, the private sector, regional governments, and local communities should all be partners in shaping the agenda. Climate action requires social ownership, not centralized directives. Finally, Ethiopia is obliged to adopt a coherent diplomatic strategy. Hosting a COP is ultimately a political act requiring delicate negotiation among blocs with competing priorities. The government hence ought to invest in diplomatic capacity—experienced negotiators, climate economists, and policy specialists—to ensure the conference produces outcomes aligned with African interests.

If Ethiopia rises to these challenges, COP32 could be transformative. It could reset global attention on Africa’s climate agenda, unlock new financing partnerships, strengthen Ethiopia’s international standing, and galvanize long-term investment in resilience. It could also inspire a new model of African climate leadership—one rooted in justice, innovation, and solidarity. But if the country neglects the hard work of preparation—if domestic instability continues, if infrastructure lags, or if political divisions overshadow diplomacy—the opportunity could be squandered. COP32 is Ethiopia’s chance to demonstrate that a country at the frontlines of climate change can also lead the fight against it. It is an opportunity not to be wasted, and a responsibility to be embraced with seriousness, transparency, and unity.

The Pretoria accord was never perfect, but it was indispensable. It halted a devastating two-year war that killed hundreds of thousands, displaced millions, and pushed large swathes of northern Ethiopia to the brink of famine. The agreement, brokered under the auspices of the African Union, was heralded as a triumph of African-led diplomacy. It offered a roadmap for disarmament, humanitarian access, and political dialogue—an opportunity for Ethiopia to begin stitching together its shattered social fabric. But as the latest tensions demonstrate, peace accords are only as strong as the political will to uphold them.

The crux of the current strain lies in the slow and uneven implementation of the accord. While large-scale fighting between federal and Tigray forces has ceased, deep mistrust persists. Key provisions—particularly on disarmament, reintegration of Tigray’s fighters, the return of displaced communities, and restoration of constitutional authority—have been plagued by delays, disputes, and mutual accusations of bad faith. Tigray’s leaders argue that the federal government has dragged its feet on restoring essential services, lifting administrative restrictions, and ensuring meaningful political autonomy. The federal government, in turn, accuses Tigray’s authorities of failing to fully disarm, tolerating hostile rhetoric, and collaborating with insurgents operating in the Amhara region.

The reemergence of violent flare-ups along the Tigray-Afar border adds a dangerous new dimension. The border between the two regions, contested since the war, remains a flashpoint of tension. Recent skirmishes and reports of population displacements in the area threaten to reignite ethnic hostilities that the Pretoria accord sought to neutralize. Each clash, however localized, risks triggering a wider conflagration by reigniting old grievances and inviting military retaliation. The situation is particularly volatile because neither side seems willing to make concessions on border demarcation or resettlement of displaced communities—a toxic mix that could easily spiral into open conflict.

If the Pretoria deal collapses, Ethiopia faces not merely a relapse into war but a full-blown national crisis. The first and most immediate peril is humanitarian. Northern Ethiopia is still reeling from the scars of the last conflict—destroyed infrastructure, food insecurity, and millions dependent on aid. A return to hostilities would interrupt fragile recovery efforts and deepen human suffering on a massive scale. Humanitarian agencies, already overstretched by crises in Amhara, Oromia, and Somali regions, would struggle to respond. The political ramifications are disconcerting as well. The unraveling of the accord would deal a fatal blow to Ethiopia’s already fragile transition. The 2018 political reforms that once promised unity and democratization have been eclipsed by years of violence and mistrust. A breakdown of the peace agreement would confirm to many Ethiopians—and the international community—that the country’s political elite is incapable of resolving disputes through dialogue. It would also embolden armed actors elsewhere to seek military rather than political solutions, deepening Ethiopia’s fragmentation.

The economic repercussions would be equally dire. Investor confidence, already shaken by recurring instability, would plummet further. Reconstruction in Tigray and neighboring regions would grind to a halt. Ethiopia’s hopes of revitalizing exports, attracting manufacturing investment, and stabilizing its currency would be dealt yet another blow. The country’s already precarious foreign-exchange reserves and debt situation could spiral into crisis, jeopardizing its broader development agenda.

Beyond Ethiopia’s borders, the collapse of the CoHA would reverberate across the Horn of Africa. Regional stability is precarious as it is: Sudan remains engulfed in civil war, Somalia is battling insurgency, and tensions persist between Ethiopia and Eritrea. The resumption of conflict in northern Ethiopia could spill across borders, drawing in external actors and disrupting vital trade and security arrangements. For a region so deeply interconnected—economically, socially, and politically—the disintegration of peace in Ethiopia would have cascading effects, undermining regional integration efforts under IGAD and the African Continental Free Trade Area framework.

So, what must be done to prevent this looming disaster?

First and foremost, political dialogue must be revived and deepened. The Pretoria accord cannot sustain itself through silence or suspicion. Both the federal and Tigray authorities must recommit to direct, good-faith negotiations on unresolved issues—particularly disarmament timelines, administrative arrangements, and border demarcations. International partners, including the African Union, must step up their mediation efforts rather than treating the deal as a finished achievement. Peace is a process, not an event. This should be complimented by the revitalization of implementation mechanisms. The Joint Monitoring, Verification, and Compliance Mechanism established under the Pretoria framework should be strengthened, adequately funded, and empowered to investigate violations on both sides. Transparency is key: the Ethiopian public deserves regular updates on what progress has been made and where gaps remain. Furthermore, it is of the essence to resolve regional grievances through dialogue and justice, not coercion. The Tigray-Amhara border issue, in particular, requires impartial mediation and community-level reconciliation. The federal government should facilitate discussions that prioritize the rights of displaced populations and the integrity of both regions rather than imposing unilateral decisions.

Finally, Ethiopia’s leaders must understand that peace is not a sign of weakness—it is the foundation of national survival. The temptation to treat the Pretoria Accord as a temporary political convenience must give way to a recognition that Ethiopia’s unity and development hinge on reconciliation, not domination. The same energy expended on military campaigns must now be devoted to building institutions capable of managing diversity and dissent peacefully. The collapse of the CoHA would not simply mark the failure of a peace deal—it would mark the unraveling of a nation’s hope for stability and coexistence. Ethiopia cannot afford another descent into war, nor can Africa afford another failed peace. The time for renewed commitment is now—before the fragile calm turns once again into chaos.

Ethiopia’s electoral process has long been intertwined with its turbulent political history. The 2018 political transition ignited hopes for democratic renewal, following decades of tightly controlled politics. However, those hopes have since dimmed under the weight of conflict, fragmentation, and authoritarian drift. The postponed 2021 elections—which were not held in some regions—exposed the logistical, political, and security obstacles that still haunt the country’s path toward genuine democratic governance. Today, as the next polls approach, many of those same challenges remain unresolved or have even deepened.

The foremost challenge is security. The government’s determination to hold elections nationwide collides with a sobering reality: large parts of Ethiopia remain insecure or under the shadow of conflict. In Amhara, persistent clashes between federal forces and local militias have disrupted governance and daily life. In Oromia, armed insurgencies and counterinsurgency operations continue to claim lives and displace civilians. The Somali and Benishangul Gumuz regions face intermittent instability tied to political grievances and border tensions. Meanwhile, parts of Tigray are still struggling to recover from the devastating war and its humanitarian aftermath. Conducting elections in such conditions is not simply a logistical problem—it is a matter of legitimacy and safety. Ballot boxes and voter cards mean little when citizens cannot move freely, when polling stations risk attack, or when displaced populations are excluded.

Political fragmentation and lack of consensus are also contributing factors. Ethiopia’s political class remains bitterly divided. Opposition parties are fragmented, many have faced restrictions or intimidation, and some operate in exile. Accusations of harassment, arbitrary arrests, and limited media access persist, undermining the credibility of the political process. The National Election Board of Ethiopia (NEBE), once hailed as a symbol of reform, now faces mounting criticism from opposition groups who accuse it of bias and lack of independence. Without a broad-based political agreement on the rules of engagement, the next elections risk deepening divisions rather than healing them. Institutional weakness further compounds the problem. Effective elections require functioning local administrations, professional security forces, and a judiciary capable of resolving disputes fairly. Yet many local governments are paralyzed by insecurity or political interference, while the justice system struggles with credibility and capacity. The NEBE itself faces resource constraints, logistical hurdles, and the daunting task of registering tens of millions of voters—many of whom live in areas affected by displacement or poor infrastructure. Unless these institutions are strengthened and insulated from political manipulation, the credibility of the process will be in serious doubt.

Equally serious is the erosion of public trust. Ordinary Ethiopians, weary of conflict and political instability, increasingly doubt whether elections can bring meaningful change. Cynicism is spreading as citizens see promises of reform overshadowed by violence, repression, and unfulfilled pledges. In regions where armed groups or local elites hold sway, voters may feel coerced or disempowered. If people perceive elections as predetermined or irrelevant, voter apathy could undermine participation, while contested outcomes could trigger renewed unrest.

Still, postponing elections indefinitely is not a viable solution either. Doing so risks entrenching authoritarianism and feeding the narrative that democratic processes must wait for “perfect conditions” that may never come. Ethiopia must, therefore, strike a difficult balance: upholding the constitutional timeline while ensuring that the process is credible, inclusive, and secure enough to reflect the people’s will. That balance will require both political courage and pragmatic compromise.

Meeting these challenges requires taking a host of essential, enabling steps. To begin with the government must attach priority to peacebuilding as an electoral prerequisite. National elections cannot succeed against the backdrop of open conflict. A serious effort must be made to secure ceasefires or negotiated arrangements in conflict-affected regions, allowing for safe voter registration and campaigning. Peace should not be treated as a separate track from the elections—it must be integrated into the electoral roadmap. Engaging community elders, religious leaders, and civil society organizations in local peacebuilding is sure to help reduce tensions and create minimal conditions for participation. Efforts to address security concerns can only succeed where political dialogue is revived and institutionalized. The National Dialogue Commission offers one potential forum, but it must be empowered and inclusive. Bringing together ruling and opposition parties, regional representatives, and civic groups to discuss electoral conditions, security arrangements, and confidence-building measures is critical. A pre-election political pact—covering issues like equitable media access, guarantees for freedom of assembly, and releasing jailed political party leaders/members—could go a long way toward restoring trust.

Furthermore, it is paramount to ensure the independence and strengthen the capacity of the NEBE. This includes assuring adequate funding, transparency in voter registration, and impartial recruitment of local election officials. The NEBE should collaborate closely with regional administrations, civil society, and international partners to enhance transparency and build confidence. Establishing a credible conflict-resolution mechanism for electoral disputes before the polls will also be essential to prevent post-election violence. Efforts to strengthen the electoral board need to be complimented by measures aimed at protecting civic space. A free press, active civil society, and open debate are indispensable to any democratic process. As such the government ought to refrain from using security laws to stifle dissent and instead view criticism as part of a healthy political ecosystem. Media outlets must be allowed to cover the elections freely, and civic groups should be empowered to conduct voter education, observation, and monitoring activities.

Prime Minister Abiy’s insistence on holding the 2026 elections as scheduled may reflect a commitment to constitutional continuity. But timelines alone do not define democracy—trust, fairness, and peace do. Unless Ethiopia addresses its security crises, political polarization, and institutional fragility, the upcoming elections could deepen instability rather than consolidate progress. Ethiopia stands at a crossroads: it can either turn the 2026 elections into a genuine step toward reconciliation and renewal, or it can risk repeating the cycles of exclusion and conflict that have marred its past. The choice is clear—and the work must begin now.

Ethiopia’s recent history illustrates the hard truth that sustained economic growth cannot coexist with recurrent conflict. Over the past five years, political and ethnic violence has disrupted supply chains, displaced millions, and drained public resources. The two-year war in the north alone is estimated to have cost tens of billions of dollars, devastated infrastructure, and eroded investor confidence. Even after the Pretoria Agreement, instability continues to flare in parts of Amhara, Oromia, and other regions, while intercommunal clashes persist across several areas. Every episode of violence diverts funds from development to security, slows trade, and keeps farmers from cultivating their land or businesses from investing. No amount of industrialization strategy or infrastructure spending can offset the economic toll of persistent insecurity.

Peace is not merely a moral or political imperative—it is an economic necessity. For Ethiopia to realistically aspire to become Africa’s biggest economy, it must first secure internal stability and social cohesion. Investors—both domestic and foreign—require predictability. Factories, logistics hubs, and energy projects cannot operate efficiently in an environment of curfews, checkpoints, and road blockades. The government’s own budget data shows a growing share of expenditure going to defense and security at the expense of social programs and capital projects. Unless this balance changes Ethiopia’s growth potential will remain hostage to its unresolved political conflicts.

Beyond peace, political inclusivity is essential for durable economic progress. The country’s federal system was designed to accommodate its diversity, but in practice, disputes over power-sharing and regional autonomy have become flashpoints for conflict. Efforts at centralization have met resistance, while regional administrations complain about being marginalized or under-resourced. The absence of a sustained, national dialogue on Ethiopia’s political future has left grievances to fester. Without a genuine process that allows all communities—large and small—to have a stake in the state, peace will remain fragile. And without peace, the economy cannot thrive.

In this context, PM Abiy’s projection, though visionary, risks sounding disconnected from Ethiopia’s day-to-day realities. The challenges are enormous: inflation remains in double digits, the birr continues to depreciate, unemployment is high, and external debt pressures are mounting. Foreign direct investment has not grown at the desired level due to instability and policy uncertainty, while exports remain overly dependent on coffee and gold. Infrastructure gaps in energy, transport, and digital connectivity persist, and many manufacturing zones built under the industrialization drive are operating below capacity. None of these problems can be solved through ambition alone. They demand a stable political environment where long-term planning is possible and confidence in governance is restored. The comparison with Africa’s leading economies—Nigeria, Egypt, and South Africa—makes this even clearer. These countries, despite their own difficulties, have built institutional frameworks that sustain growth over time. Ethiopia’s current per capita income and GDP size remain far below theirs. To close the gap within ten years, the country would need double-digit growth every year, coupled with a massive expansion in export capacity and industrial output. That kind of economic acceleration requires not only sound macroeconomic policies but also peace, consistent rule of law, and trust in public institutions.

A peaceful environment would unlock Ethiopia’s immense potential. The country’s energy sector, anchored by the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam, could make it a regional power exporter. Its fertile lands could support large-scale agro-industrialization. Its young population could drive innovation and productivity, particularly in technology and manufacturing. But these advantages cannot be realized if conflicts continue to paralyze transport routes, displace communities, and divert youth from productive work to armed movements. Peace creates the stability investors need, encourages remittances from the diaspora, and enables the government to focus on critical reforms in taxation, land policy, and financial liberalization.

To move from aspiration to reality, Ethiopia must therefore attach priority to three interrelated objectives: peacebuilding, political consensus, and institutional reform. First, peacebuilding means more than ceasefires; it requires addressing the root causes of conflict—land disputes, competition for resources, and questions of political representation. Genuine dialogue among political forces and communities must replace the logic of zero-sum politics. Second, building political consensus around Ethiopia’s constitutional and governance framework is vital. A shared understanding of federalism, citizenship, and decentralization can defuse tensions that repeatedly derail progress. Third, institutional reform is critical to ensure that economic opportunities are distributed fairly, corruption is curtailed, and the rule of law prevails.

The Prime Minister’s economic vision can serve as a useful rallying point—but only if it is matched by an equally bold peace agenda. The government should channel as much energy into reconciliation and justice as it does into development planning. Rebuilding trust among citizens, ensuring freedom of movement, and opening space for dialogue with opposition and civil society are not distractions from the economic agenda; they are preconditions for it. Without political stability, even the most ambitious reforms will be built on sand.

Ethiopia’s future can indeed be bright. The nation has defied odds before, turning poverty and isolation into progress through determination and collective effort. But economic miracles do not occur in the shadow of war. The road to becoming Africa’s largest economy runs not through military might or rhetoric, but through peace, inclusion, and trust. If Prime Minister Abiy’s vision is to be realized, it must begin with the recognition that growth and stability are inseparable—and that peace is the first and most vital investment Ethiopia must make.