Sovereignty for Sale: Ethiopia’s Addiction to Dependency and Denial

by Ghidewon Abay Asmerom

Eritrea’s foreign policy has always been anchored in sovereignty, self-reliance, and non-alignment. From its earliest days, Eritrea rejected the culture of dependency that defined much of postcolonial Africa. It has neither begged nor borrowed to exist. Ethiopia, by contrast, has built its armies with foreign aid, its economy with World Bank loans, and its diplomacy on donor sympathy.

During the TPLF era, the state thrived on Western patronage. American and European money financed its wars, its bureaucracy, and its propaganda. Today, Abiy Ahmed’s government continues that legacy of dependence, pleading for IMF debt relief and UAE bailouts while squandering billions on palatial vanity projects in a country unable to feed its citizens.

This is the same leader who told Jon Lee Anderson of The New Yorker that he would “fight and die for America,” not for Ethiopia, not for Africa, but for the approval of foreign masters. It is the same man whom The Guardian revealed to be entangled in the trafficking of Colombian mercenaries and Emirati weapons into Sudan’s RSF, serving Gulf interests in exchange for petrodollars.

Eritrea’s relationships—with Egypt, the Gulf, and other neighbors—are partnerships of equals, not transactions of patron and client. They are guided by mutual respect and national dignity, not by debt or dependency. When Addis Ababa accuses Cairo of “exploiting divides,” it reveals not Eritrea’s alignment but Ethiopia’s insecurity. The Prosperity Party fears any regional dialogue not centered on its own image. Eritrea does not rent its sovereignty. Ethiopia auctions its dignity.

Horn Review’s narrative suffers from an old affliction of propaganda: selective memory disguised as analysis. It conveniently forgets that Egypt was among the first African nations to recognize Eritrea’s independence in 1993, consistent with Cairo’s long record of supporting decolonization and the right of peoples to self-determination. That gesture was not opportunism but principle, a continuation of Egypt’s post-Nasser tradition of engagement with African liberation movements.

Ethiopia’s record tells the opposite story. From Emperor Haile Selassie’s illegal annexation of Eritrea in 1962 to the wars of 1998–2000 and 2020–2022, Addis Ababa has been the aggressor, not the aggrieved. The rhetoric of “brotherhood” and “integration” has consistently masked a policy of domination. Even today, under Abiy Ahmed, the same impulse reappears in the renewed obsession with “access to the sea,” a recycled imperial ambition dressed up as strategy.

The claim that Eritrea seeks “leverage” over Ethiopia is pure projection. It was never Eritrea that sought to dictate Ethiopia’s destiny; it was always Ethiopia that tried to control Eritrea’s. From currency policy and trade routes to port access and diplomatic tone, Addis Ababa attempted to subordinate Asmara. When Eritrea refused, it was branded defiant. Yet refusal to be patronized is not defiance; it is sovereignty.

Eritrea’s foreign policy, since independence, has been grounded in self-reliance and mutual respect. It seeks relations of equality, not hierarchy, with Egypt, the Gulf, and its regional neighbors. It rejects dependency in all its forms, whether aid conditionalities or ideological tutelage. That independence has often been misread as isolation, when in truth it is dignity codified as policy.

Ethiopia’s recurring anxiety toward Eritrea stems from a deeper psychological wound: the fear of its own reflection. Having violated every political agreement it ever made with Eritrea—from the 1952 federation, to the 2000 Algiers Agreement, to the 2018 Joint Declaration of Peace and Friendship—Ethiopia is haunted by its own record. It knows that its duplicity is remembered. The unease in Addis Ababa’s diplomacy today is the unease of a state aware that it has wronged its neighbor and dreads the moment when history will speak louder than propaganda.

Ethiopia’s alternating tones of camaraderie and hostility toward Eritrea expose this inner turmoil. It calls Eritrea “brother” in one breath and “threat” in the next. It swings between guilt and paranoia, between self-pity and belligerence. Eritrea’s composure only magnifies the discomfort. A small, disciplined state that neither boasts nor begs stands as a silent rebuke to Ethiopia’s turbulence.

Ethiopia’s accusations of “Eritrean leverage,” “Egyptian meddling,” or “foreign exploitation” are not rooted in strategy but in fear. They are mirrors of insecurity, projections of guilt, and attempts to shift blame outward. By inventing enemies, Addis Ababa hides from its own failures—corruption, ethnic fragmentation, and imperial nostalgia. Eritrea has no need for revenge. Ethiopia, however, has every reason to fear justice. For history, though patient, never forgets.