A Mirage of Sea Ownership that Disappeared Before Reaching the Seaside

by David Yeh

For decades, Ethiopia has clung to the idea of reclaiming Eritrean territory as a shortcut to the sea, not to uplift its people, but to better posture itself as a dutiful errand boy for foreign patrons. Yet the hard facts have repeatedly crushed this illusion of being a water-carrier for outside powers. With Eritrea’s independence, Ethiopia was forced to surrender a coastline it had occupied illegally for 39 years, and every attempt since, through coercion, aggression, or grandiose daydreaming, has failed to reverse that outcome. The ambition survives in speeches and propaganda, but it disintegrates the moment it collides with international law, immutable geography, and Eritrea’s unwavering sovereignty.

Ethiopia’s yearning for the sea is not merely commercial—it reveals a deeper drive for dominance and a desire to overturn the geography it inherited. Yet the coastline will remain out of reach, a permanent reminder that national ambition cannot supersede international law, and that no amount of rhetoric or resolve can summon a shoreline that history and binding treaties have placed firmly beyond Ethiopia’s grasp.

Ethiopia’s recurring demands for access to the sea ignore the basic geographical, historical, and legal facts that define the region—and they disregard the security concerns of the very Red Sea states whose territories they seek to redefine. Ethiopia is landlocked by every internationally recognized boundary, and that reality cannot be rewritten. Treating the Red Sea shoreline as an unclaimed frontier misrepresents established sovereignty, undermines regional security frameworks, and contradicts binding treaties that govern the Horn. Ethiopia’s posture is not a realistic policy but a political fantasy, detached from international law and from the geopolitical realities that surround it.

The Unsubstantiated Assertions: Recent rhetoric from Ethiopian Potemkin Party leaders and elites, aimed at creating tension between Ethiopia and Eritrea, has fueled a fantasy rather than a feasible strategy. While the clique in Addis Ababa framed this as a bold initiative, it lacked any legal foundation and was rejected by the international community. Eritrea, the United Nations, the African Union, the European Union, the Arab League, neighboring states, and so on dismissed the claims. Although Ethiopia could argue that the status of Assab port was under review, there was never a credible pathway for claiming part of a sovereign neighbor without incurring severe diplomatic repercussions. Evidence from all reliable sources indicates the opposite. Ultimately, Abiy Ahmed Ali and his gangsters retreated under mounting pressure, confirming the inherent limits of its position.

The notion that Ethiopia’s claim to Assab failed merely due to a lack of execution overlooks a fundamental reality: the claim was inherently unfeasible. No nation can assert control over territory it does not already possess. Landlocked countries cannot unilaterally secure naval basing rights on the Red Sea. Ethiopia’s attempt to bypass Africa’s legal norms and regional agreements was met with unanimous rejection.

Ethiopian officials like to brandish the so-called “two-water policy,” as if slogans could overturn geography or erase binding international law. The Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden are not Ethiopian waters; they belong to sovereign states with internationally recognized borders, established treaties, and full legal standing. Ethiopia lost the coastline in 1991 with Eritrea’s independence, an outcome settled by history, affirmed by law, and irreversible without either overwhelming force or global recognition. The ruling Oromo PP’s yearning imagined Kush-empire offers neither. What remains, therefore, is not strategy or policy, but a political fantasy dressed up as maritime doctrine.

A Strategic Miscalculation: Ethiopia’s push for “direct sea access” is driven less by principle and more by a desire to dodge the costs of using Djibouti’s ports, costs every landlocked nation in the world pays to its neighbors. Roughly 95 percent of Ethiopia’s trade flows through Djibouti, a figure consistently reflected in official commerce reports, even if the exact 2025 numbers are pending. Yet Addis Ababa’s rhetoric would have the world believe that paying for port services is an unbearable injustice. By that logic, any country that doesn’t want to pay for Ethiopian coffee should simply claim Sidamo, Yirgacheffe, Harrar, Limu, Jimma, or Guji as its own. It is a transparently absurd argument—one that exposes the incoherence beneath Ethiopia’s maritime posturing.

While Ethiopia perceives this dependence as a strategic vulnerability, reliance on a neighboring country for port access is not unusual for landlocked nations. Across the world, countries without direct coastlines routinely manage trade through neighboring ports using negotiation, financial arrangements, and logistical diversification. These standard practices address the challenge effectively without necessitating the alteration of established borders. Ethiopia’s pursuit of maritime access through territorial claims, therefore, represents a strategic miscalculation rather than an inevitable necessity.

Ethiopia’s decision to leverage the port of Assab overlooked the region’s complex dynamics. The Red Sea and the Horn of Africa constitute critical security corridors, prompting states in the area to vigilantly protect their coastlines. A substantial share of global shipping—approximately 16% of international trade—passes through the Bab el-Mandeb Strait. Consequently, any attempt by a major regional actor to secure military access in this corridor triggers concern among multiple powers, including Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Eritrea, Sudan, the UAE, the United States, and European nations. Ethiopia’s approach, therefore, provoked immediate resistance, as no significant actor was willing to risk instability along these vital trade routes.
Ethiopia also misjudged its own position. Emerging from conflict, the country is burdened by debt and grappling with internal fragmentation. Reports from respected observers indicate persistent instability, suggesting that under such conditions, Ethiopia lacks the capacity to impose a new order in the Red Sea.
Flawed Historical Assertions: Ethiopian leaders frequently invoke historical claims to justify a maritime entitlement. However, historical control does not override modern sovereignty. The shifting nature of empires and borders, along with the existence of Eritrea, Somalia, and Djibouti as independent states, is firmly recognized under international law. The African Union’s founding principle of respecting colonial era borders safeguards the sovereignty of these nations, a principle that Ethiopia itself played a crucial role in shaping and upholding. Yet today, Ethiopia seeks an exception to this rule, one that none of its neighbors accepts. It cannot reasonably expect special treatment for a claim that contradicts the very principle it once championed.

Fidelity, Security, and Stability: The central concern in this debate is security. Ethiopia’s pursuit of sea access has raised apprehensions because of its potential to destabilize neighboring countries. Eritrea and Somalia view any Ethiopian military presence along their coastlines as a direct threat to national security. Djibouti worries about the economic implications, while Eritrea interprets Ethiopia’s move as a display of territorial ambition. Egypt’s concerns are shaped by the politics of the Nile, whereas Saudi Arabia and the UAE focus on the implications for Red Sea stability. Western powers remain attentive to the potential risks for international shipping lanes.

Ethiopia frames its actions as driven purely by economic necessity; however, regional security analysts interpret them as expansionist, a perception that exacerbates tensions in a region already vulnerable to insurgency, piracy, and power struggles.

Ethiopia should prioritize practical solutions. These include deeper economic integration with Djibouti, negotiated commercial access through Eritrea if conditions allow, and targeted investments in rail, air cargo, and logistics to ease pressure on maritime routes. Such approaches are legally sound, preserve regional stability, and avoid territorial maneuvers that could destabilize the Horn of Africa.

This incompetent leadership in Ethiopia frames its actions as a missed opportunity, but in reality, it was a reckless move that threatened regional stability. The Horn of Africa cannot afford escalation, and the Red Sea cannot absorb further instability. Ethiopia must acknowledge the limits imposed by its geography and pursue a future built on cooperation rather than fantasy. States endure by engaging with reality, not by imagining new borders.

In essence, Ethiopia’s path forward hinges on strengthening its economy, reforming its political system, and building trust with its neighbors. Its future security cannot be guaranteed through leased coastlines or symbolic military access. The regional rejection of port or land annexation reflects the fundamental unsoundness of such ideas, offering important lessons for Ethiopia’s leaders. The Red Sea is not open to negotiation, and the Horn of Africa is not a puzzle to be rearranged. Ethiopia’s landlocked status is a reality that must be acknowledged and accepted if lasting stability is to be achieved.

David Yeh