President Isaias Afwerki is aging. According to publicly available information, he was born on February 2, 1946, which means he will turn 80 in February 2026. Like all leaders, he is mortal. But it is not only the man who is growing old; the system he has built around himself also shows clear signs of exhaustion. History suggests that highly personalized dictatorships rarely endure beyond a few decades without renewal, succession planning, or institutional adaptation.
In Eritrea’s case, the question of what comes after Isaias is therefore not a matter of routine political transition, but a looming national and regional concern. For years, commentators and analysts have expressed growing concern about Eritrea’s future—not because change is undesirable, but because of the way change is likely to come.
History shows that when long‑serving dictators die unexpectedly—especially those who neither groom successors nor allow institutions to develop—the aftermath is often turbulent. Sudan after Omar al‑Bashir, Libya after Muammar Gaddafi, and Iraq following Saddam Hussein offer sobering reminders of how the absence of a prepared transition can open the door to prolonged instability, internal conflict, and regional spillover. Power vacuums invite power struggles. Competing factions within the ruling elite move quickly to secure control. Security institutions fracture or overreact. At the same time, long‑suppressed opposition groups, both inside and outside the country, re‑emerge because the central figure of fear is suddenly gone. In such moments, uncertainty can escalate rapidly into instability.
Eritrea fits this pattern uncomfortably well. For more than three decades, political power has been concentrated almost entirely in the hands of one man. There is no functioning constitution, no independent judiciary, no elected legislature, and no visible succession plan. Political parties are banned, civil society is non‑existent, and even senior officials operate at the mercy of presidential discretion rather than institutional rules. This means that when the inevitable transition comes, it will not be managed by strong institutions, but by individuals and factions scrambling to fill the void.
One possible scenario is an internal power struggle within the military and security apparatus. Another is the emergence of a successor who attempts to consolidate authority through heightened brutality; believing that fear and repression are the only tools available to demonstrate control. We have seen this pattern elsewhere: a new ruler, insecure and untested, resorts to excessive force to signal strength, often plunging the country into deeper cycles of violence and isolation.
At the same time, Eritrean opposition groups—many of them fragmented, exiled, and weakened by years of repression—may see an opening to mobilize. While political awakening is not inherently negative, sudden and uncoordinated mobilization in a highly militarized society can lead to clashes, reprisals, and even civil conflict. Ordinary Eritreans, already exhausted by indefinite national service, mass migration, and economic hardship, would bear the heaviest cost.
This uncertainty does not stop at Eritrea’s borders. Any serious instability there will have direct ripple effects on Ethiopia and the wider Horn of Africa. Refugee flows could increase dramatically. Border security could deteriorate. Armed groups may exploit the chaos. Regional rivalries could intensify as external actors attempt to influence the post‑Isaias order. Periods of political vacuum often attract regional and international actors seeking to shape outcomes in line with their own strategic interests, frequently complicating already fragile transitions. For Ethiopia, which shares deep historical, social, and security linkages with Eritrea, pretending that this is an internal Eritrean matter alone would be dangerously short‑sighted.
The question is not whether Eritrea will face a transition, but how sudden, how violent, and how destabilizing it may be—and how prepared neighboring states will be when that moment arrives. For Ethiopia, preparedness must go beyond passive readiness: it should include a clear-eyed assessment of national interests related to security, border stability, trade, regional influence, and the protection of its citizens. Pursuing these interests does not require intervention or coercion, but it does demand proactive diplomacy, strategic engagement with regional and international partners, and the capacity to shape outcomes in ways that minimize risks and maximize stability.
At the same time, Ethiopia’s approach should be guided by a genuine hope that any transition in Eritrea ultimately serves the aspirations of the Eritrean people—for peace, dignity, accountable governance, and a normal life after decades of repression and sacrifice. Preparing for this moment now, with both national interests and regional goodwill in mind, is not only prudent; it is an expression of responsible and forward-looking statecraft.
(Tessema Mebratu is a legal scholar and practitioner specializing in human rights, rule of law, and transitional justice. He holds a PhD in Law and has over 15 years of experience managing civil society, democracy, and justice sector programs in Ethiopia. He has worked extensively on accountability, institutional reform, and conflict prevention, and is committed to promoting evidence-based dialogue and justice for victims of mass atrocities in Ethiopia.)
Contributed by Tessema Mebratu (PhD)
