Ethiopia’s Call to Abiy Ahmed: Bring Peace or Step Aside

By David Yeh

In 2018, Ethiopia inhaled hope as if it were oxygen. After years of repression and stagnation, Abiy Ahmed arrived speaking the language of release and renewal: political prisoners freed, exiles welcomed home, borders reopened, and a peace accord signed with Eritrea that seemed to close one of the Horn of Africa’s most painful chapters. The world applauded. Ethiopians dared to believe. The Nobel Committee crowned the moment with global validation. For a fleeting season, Ethiopia was held up as proof that reform, reconciliation, and peace were not only possible but imminent.

That moment has passed—and what followed has been its inverse. The promise of peace has given way to war. The language of unity has hardened into polarization. Reconciliation has been replaced by repression. Ethiopia today is scarred by internal conflicts across multiple regions, deep ethnic fractures, economic freefall, and a narrowing democratic space. The very leader once celebrated as a peacemaker now presides over a country defined by instability and exhaustion. This essay is not about the loss of an illusion; it is about the cost of broken promises—and the reckoning that follows when hope is squandered at the height of power.

How Ethiopia Fractured on Abiy Ahmed’s Watch

What has unfolded across Ethiopia since Abiy Ahmed assumed power is not a tragic accident of history, nor a series of unrelated local failures. It is the cumulative record of a leadership that promised unity and reform, yet presided over fragmentation, militarization, and the steady collapse of civilian protection. Under Abiy Ahmed, violence metastasized into a nationwide condition, binding Afar to Somali borderlands, Oromia’s cities and countryside, Amhara’s heartland, Benishangul-Gumuz, Gambela, Somali Region, and finally Tigray into a single, unbroken arc of instability. This is not merely a governance failure; it is an indictment of a prime minister whose decisions repeatedly turned political disputes into killing fields.

Along the Afar–Somali frontier, Abiy’s federal government redrew administrative boundaries without resolving historic grievances over land, towns, and grazing corridors, converting lines on a map into frontlines of war. The result was predictable and deadly: clashes in April 2021 alone killed at least 100 people, according to Reuters, with displacement and sporadic violence continuing long after. In Oromia, Abiy’s inability—or unwillingness—to protect civilians became unmistakable. Communal violence in Burayu in 2018 killed at least 55 people. The 2020 assassination of singer Hachalu Hundessa detonated a wave of riots and killings across the region, exposing a state that could neither prevent violence nor contain it once unleashed. In western Oromia, massacres and reprisals against civilians persisted amid contested narratives, while the Oromia–Somali border remained a chronic flashpoint, fueled by armed regional special forces operating with impunity. These were not inherited inevitabilities; they were crises managed—or mismanaged—under Abiy’s watch.

In Amhara, Abiy’s tenure was marked by a toxic mix of state paralysis and militarized response. The January 2019 killing of at least 58 Qemant civilians, attributed to Fano-linked elements amid state inaction, was an early warning of what happens when a government abdicates its duty to protect. The war Abiy launched against Tigray then transformed western Tigray into a zone of expulsions, looting, and killings, with Humera and Mai Kadra becoming international symbols of ethnic violence and mass abuse. Even after the Pretoria agreement ended the main phase of the Tigray war in late 2022, Amhara did not see peace. Instead, relations between the federal government and Amhara armed groups collapsed into open confrontation, prompting states of emergency and fresh allegations of abuses. In Benishangul-Gumuz, long-simmering disputes over land and identity exploded into massacres in Metekel in December 2020, killing more than 100 people and displacing thousands, as confirmed by Ethiopia’s own Human Rights Commission. Gambela’s earlier history—including the 2003 Anuak massacre with credible estimates exceeding 300 dead—stands as a grim reminder of how ethnic violence flourishes when the state governs through force and neglect rather than justice and accountability.

Somali Region and Tigray complete the picture of a federation pushed toward fracture. In Somali Region, Abiy’s confrontation with entrenched regional security structures in 2018—culminating in federal intervention against the Liyu police—exposed how brittle federal authority had become under his leadership. The July 2022 al-Shabaab incursion from Somalia, the largest such attack on Ethiopian territory, further underscored the cost of internal disarray. But it was Tigray that sealed Abiy Ahmed’s indictment. From late 2020, his decision to pursue war unleashed mass displacement, sieges, airstrikes, and atrocities on a scale unseen in decades, with fighting spilling into neighboring regions and drawing in external forces. Although the November 2022 Pretoria agreement halted major combat, unresolved questions—especially over western Tigray and the persistence of armed actors outside the deal—ensured that peace remained fragile and incomplete.

Taken together, this is the ledger of Abiy Ahmed’s rule: inter-ethnic violence normalized, insurgencies multiplied, state militarization deepened, and civilian trust shattered. What might have been addressed through dialogue, restraint, and inclusive governance was instead met with force, denial, and rhetorical excess. The result is a country where massacres recur, displacement has become routine, and federal authority is feared more than trusted. This is not the legacy of a peacemaker betrayed by circumstance; it is the record of a leader whose choices fused Ethiopia’s many local conflicts into a single national crisis—and whose tenure will be judged not by promises made, but by the bloodletting and fragmentation that followed.

From Peacemaker to Pyromaniac

Leadership is measured in moments of restraint, not in bursts of bravado. By that standard, Abiy Ahmed’s regional conduct reads less like strategy and more like unraveling. His increasingly unhinged rhetoric—asserting a right to police Somali and Eritrean coastlines, hinting at force to secure Red Sea access, and treating neighboring sovereignty as a negotiable inconvenience—marks a dangerous departure from diplomacy into delusion. What began as reformist promise has curdled into a politics of entitlement, where geography is bullied by speech and international norms are dismissed as obstacles to will.

Nowhere is this recklessness clearer than in Abiy’s unilateralism. On the Nile, he has pressed ahead with decisions that disregard Sudan’s and Egypt’s existential dependence on downstream flows, replacing patient negotiation with fait accompli. In the Horn, he shattered African Union principles by promising recognition of Somaliland, a breakaway region, in exchange for a sovereign coast line, over Somalia’s explicit objections, inviting confrontation rather than consensus. The move did not stabilize the region; it destabilized it, transforming Ethiopia from mediator to provocateur. Critics further warn that Ethiopia’s posture has made it a permissive corridor in Sudan’s war, where allegations swirl of Emirati arms and training flowing to the RSF through regional channels, raising grave questions about neutrality at a moment when restraint was essential.

Abiy’s revisionist rhetoric toward Eritrea compounds the peril. By repeatedly invoking Red Sea ports and implying entitlement, up to and including Assab, he reopens wounds the 2018 peace agreement was meant to heal. That peace was once his crowning achievement; now it is treated as expendable. Threatening tones and martial signaling toward Eritrea do not project strength; they advertise a loss of compass. When a leader begins to talk as though sovereignty is optional and borders are suggestions, the problem is no longer policy—it is judgment.

The tragedy is not that Ethiopia faces challenges; all nations do. The tragedy is that these crises followed extraordinary hope. Abiy promised unity, reconciliation, and peace. Instead, Ethiopia has endured war, polarization, and the export of instability. Relations with Sudan collapsed amid Al-Fashaga tensions and the spillover of Khartoum’s war. Somalia recoiled after Ethiopia’s Somaliland gambit. Eritrea, once reconciled, now listens warily to threats dressed as vision. Across the region, Ethiopia’s credibility has eroded as its rhetoric has inflated.

This is what happens when ambition outruns responsibility. Trade access is a legitimate goal; coercive insinuation is not. Regional leadership requires consent, not intimidation; law, not unilateralism; humility, not hallucination. Abiy Ahmed’s words increasingly point not toward stewardship but toward spectacle—where rivers are commanded, coasts are claimed, and peace is proclaimed at the edge of a clenched fist. History is unforgiving to leaders who confuse volume with authority. The Horn of Africa does not need another strongman auditioning for empire. It needs sobriety. And Ethiopia deserves leadership grounded in restraint before rhetoric turns irrevocably into ruin.

The Currency of Broken Promises

At home, inflation has eroded purchasing power. The Ethiopian birr (ETB) has undergone a dramatic and sustained depreciation against the US dollar since 2018, collapsing from roughly 27–28 ETB/USD that year to over 150 ETB/USD by early 2026. The exchange rate slid rapidly, surpassing 155 ETB/USD by January 2026. By 23 February 2026, 1,000 Ethiopian birr was worth approximately USD 6.43, a stark illustration of how deeply the currency has been hollowed out. In effect, the birr has lost more than 80 percent of its value against the dollar since 2018. This collapse has had severe real-world consequences. As the currency weakened, imports became drastically more expensive, eroding purchasing power and pushing up the cost of basic goods. 

The situation is even more acute in the parallel (black) market. There, the exchange rate fell from about 28–30 ETB/USD in 2018 to over 150 ETB/USD by 2024, with some estimates placing it at 170–180 ETB/USD by late 2025. Currency reforms introduced in 2024 accelerated this divergence, sharply widening the gap between official and parallel market rates and signaling a collapse of confidence in monetary management.

Notably, the steepest phase of depreciation coincided with heightened political instability and external confrontation. Following major policy shocks and the escalation of conflict, particularly after the government’s turn toward regional military adventurism, the birr’s decline intensified, reflecting investor flight, dwindling foreign reserves, and mounting macroeconomic stress. What began as gradual weakening has hardened into a currency crisis, with lasting implications for inflation, living standards, and economic sovereignty.

Youth unemployment remains high. Currency shortages, debt restructuring pressures, and cost of living increases weigh heavily on ordinary citizens.  While global shocks have played a role, leadership is judged by its ability to shield its people from collapse not explain it away. The early reform momentum has slowed. Journalists have been detained. Internet shutdowns have become recurring tools during unrest. Opposition figures face increasing pressure. A leader once praised as a democratizer now faces accusations of consolidating power and jailed.

A Nation’s Demand: Accountability Is Not Hatred

Criticism of Abiy Ahmed’s leadership is not hatred. It is accountability. Citizens have the right to demand peace over conflict, diplomacy over brinkmanship, transparency over secrecy, and unity over division. Ethiopia does not need perpetual mobilization. It does not need war rhetoric. It does not need political theater. It needs stability. It needs inclusive dialogue. It needs economic recovery. It needs trust rebuilt at home and credibility restored abroad. History will judge whether Abiy Ahmed ultimately restores peace or presides over prolonged fragmentation. But one truth is clear: the Ethiopian people deserve leadership that reduces instability not one that appears to multiply it. The call is simple: choose peace. Choose diplomacy. Choose accountability. Or make way for those who will.

Ethiopians remember the promises: peace, prosperity, unity, reform. Yet what they have lived is something very different. Conflict has scarred multiple regions. Families have been displaced and divided. Young people continue to lose their lives in wars they did not choose. Economic hardship has deepened, inflation has soared, and the cost of living has become unbearable for ordinary citizens. Public discourse is dominated by political messaging and propaganda while the daily struggles of the people are ignored. Ethiopians are tired not metaphorically, but in the real, physical, emotional sense of exhaustion that comes from living in a state of perpetual crisis. They are tired of conflict. They are tired of division. They are tired of being told that instability is necessary for stability. They want something simple and fundamental: peace, security, opportunity, and dignity.

Leadership is not about holding power at any cost. It is about listening to the people. It is about recognizing when a nation is crying out for change. And when a leader can no longer unite the country or deliver on the promise of peace, stepping aside becomes an act of responsibility not weakness. Democracy demands accountability. When the people speak, their voices must be heard. The Ethiopian people are speaking now, and their message is unmistakable: bring peace, or leave office.

Personalized Power and the Collapse of Institutional Governance

Ethiopia’s crisis is not only the result of war or economic strain. It is rooted in a style of governance that prioritizes personal authority over institutional strength. Instead of building durable institutions capable of managing conflict, distributing power, and ensuring accountability, the state has become increasingly centralized around the executive. Decision making has narrowed. Checks and balances have weakened. The judiciary, the civil service, the military, and parliament institutions meant to outlast any individual have been overshadowed by the ambitions of one man. A nation of more than 100 million people cannot depend on the instincts of a single leader. A country cannot be stabilized by charisma. A state cannot be governed through improvisation. Ethiopia needed a builder of institutions; instead, it received a builder of narratives.

This personalization of power has been accompanied by a political culture defined by transactionalism. Alliances form and dissolve with dizzying speed. Political actors are elevated one day and discarded the next. Policies shift abruptly, often without explanation. The state becomes a theater of tactical maneuvers rather than a platform for national strategy. Trust collapses. Coalitions fracture. Institutions lose coherence. Crises multiply. Ethiopia becomes reactive rather than visionary a nation governed by the logic of the moment rather than a long-term national project.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the mismanagement of Ethiopia’s ethnic federal system. This system, for all its flaws, was built through decades of negotiation, conflict, and compromise. It requires careful stewardship, inclusive dialogue, and a leadership style capable of balancing competing identities. Instead, the country has endured a catastrophic war in Tigray, persistent violence in Oromia, escalating conflict in Amhara, and widespread displacement across multiple regions. These crises intensified under a leadership that dissolved the EPRDF coalition, a structure that, however imperfect, managed Ethiopia’s diversity and replaced it with the Prosperity Party, which many saw as an attempt to centralize power rather than unify the nation. True unity cannot be built through force or fear. It must be built through dialogue, justice, and trust.

Abiy Ahmed’s early legitimacy rested heavily on Oromo support. Today, that foundation has cracked. Many in Oromia feel betrayed by unfulfilled promises of reform and justice. In Tigray, the scars of war run deep. In Amhara, grievances have sharpened into open confrontation. In Somali, Afar, Benishangul, and Gambella, skepticism has grown. A leader who loses trust across multiple regions does not govern through consensus, he governs through authority. And authority without legitimacy breeds instability.

And so the call grows louder: bring peace, or leave office. This is not a threat. It is not a slogan. It is a plea for survival. Ethiopians want an end to conflict, an end to propaganda, an end to political division. They want a return to dialogue, justice, and national dignity. The time for war must end. The time for peace must begin. If leadership can bring lasting stability and genuine reconciliation, it must act decisively. If it cannot, it must make way for a new path forward. The Ethiopian people deserve peace. They deserve unity. They deserve a future not defined by fear, but by hope. History will not judge the speeches. It will judge the stability left behind. The road back begins not with charisma, but with accountability; not with slogans, but with institutions; not with power, but with peace.

In the end, Ethiopia’s crisis is not merely the story of a leader who lost his way, but of a nation that refuses to surrender its future to instability. Abiy Ahmed rose to power on the wings of hope, but hope alone cannot govern a country. Peace must be protected, unity must be nurtured, and leadership must be accountable to the people it serves. Ethiopia has endured war, economic strain, regional tension, and political repression not because its people are weak, but because they have been asked to carry burdens they did not choose. The truth is unavoidable: a leader who promised peace has presided over years of conflict; a leader who vowed unity has overseen deepening division; a leader who spoke of reform has allowed democratic space to shrink.

Ethiopia’s people know what they deserve: stability, dignity, dialogue, and a government that values their lives more than its own survival. The call rising across the country is not born of hatred, but of responsibility. It is the voice of a nation demanding that its leaders choose peace over pride, diplomacy over brinkmanship, and accountability over denial. Ethiopia does not need more speeches. It needs action. It needs reconciliation. It needs a path forward that ends the cycle of conflict and restores trust at home and credibility abroad.

History will remember this moment. It will remember whether Abiy Ahmed chose to heal the nation or deepen its wounds. It will remember whether he listened to the people or ignored their plea. And it will remember whether Ethiopia reclaimed its promise or allowed instability to define its future. The choice is clear, and the message is unmistakable: bring peace, or step aside. The Ethiopian people deserve nothing less.