Tigray Must Turn Friction Into Cohesion

Tigray’s trauma has amplified its disagreements so deeply that many Tigrayans now struggle to recognize how much shared ground still remains. The task is to recover that ground, organize it, and turn friction into cohesion before others turn it into fracture.

እዚ ፅሑፍ፡ ናይ ድሕረ-ፕሪቶሪያ ትግራይ ፖለቲካዊ ምስሊ ብቐሊሉ ኣብ መንጎ “ደለይቲ ሰላም”ን “ደለይቲ ኲናት”ን ወይ ኣብ መንጎ “ደገፍቲ ፕሪቶሪያ”ን “ተቓወምቲ ፕሪቶሪያ”ን ዝተመቐለ ጥራይ ከምዘይኮነ ይከራኸር። እቲ ናይ ሓቂ ጸገም፡ ዝተፈላለዩ ወገናት ተመሳሳሊ ቃላት እናተጠቐሙ — “ሰላም”፡ “ፕሪቶሪያ”፡ “ህልውና” — ናብ ዝተፈላለየን ዘይሰማማዕን ፖለቲካዊ ውፅኢት የምርሑ ምህላዎም እዩ።

ንመብዛሕትኦም ተጋሩ፡ ፕሪቶሪያ ማለት ምምላስን ዳግማይ ምትካልን ክኸውን ኣለዎ፤ ምምላስ ተመዛበልቲ፣ ምውፃእ ወረርቲ ሓይልታት፣ ሕገ-መንግስታዊ ስርዓት ምርግጋፅን ንመፃኢ ካብ ዝመፅእ ስግኣት ዘተኣማምን ውሕስነት ምርካብን ማለት እዩ። ንገለ ወገናት ግን፡ ፕሪቶሪያ ናብ ምስ ኪሳራን ስዕረትን ምልማድ ይቕየር ኣሎ።

እቲ ፅሑፍ፡ መኸተ — ማለት እቲ ንትግራይ ዘሎ ውዱብ ፖለቲካዊ፣ ወታደራዊን ትካላዊን ዓቕሚ — ሕጂ እውን ንረብሓታት ህልውና ትግራይ ክከላኸል ዝኽእል እንኮ ውዱብ መሓውር ምዃኑ ይከራኸር። ኮይኑ ግን መኸተ ክሕደስ፣ ንሓደሽቲ ድምፅታት ቦታ ክኸፍትን ዝጠፍአ እምነት ዳግማይ ከማዕብልን ኣለዎ። ነቐፌታ ኣገዳሲ እዩ፤ ግናኸ መተካእታ ከይሃነፅካ ነቲ ዘሎ እንኮ ውዱብ ቅርፂ ዘዳኽም ነቐፌታ፡ ንስትራተጂ ዓብዪ ኣሕመድ ክገልግል ይኽእል እዩ።

እቲ ቀንዲ መልእኽቲ፡ ተጋሩ ካብቲ ብዙሕ ግዜ ዝግምትዎ ንላዕሊ ሕጂ እውን ሰፊሕ ሓባራዊ መርገፂ ከም ዘለዎም እዩ። እቲ ሕጂ ዘሎ ዕማም፡ ነዚ ሓባራዊ መርገፂ ምልላይ፣ መኸተ ምሕያልን ምሕዳስን፣ ከምኡ እውን ካልኦት ነቲ ዘሎ ፍሕፍሖ ናብ ምስባር ቅድሚ ምቕያሮም፡ ንሕና ናብ ሓድነትን ስኒትን ምቕያር እዩ።

The most important fact about post-Pretoria Tigray is not that Tigrayans disagree. They do. The disagreements are real, often bitter, and increasingly public. Former allies have become critics. Opposition groups insist, at least in principle, on full implementation of Pretoria. Younger constituencies, especially in urban spaces, remain angry, skeptical, and restless.

Looking only at elite politics, one could conclude that Tigray’s political class is deeply divided.

But this picture is incomplete.

Tigray is not divided in a simple way between those who want peace and those who want war, or between those who support Pretoria and those who reject it. Those are false binaries. Almost every camp now speaks the language of peace. Almost every camp invokes Pretoria. Almost every camp says it cares about Tigray’s survival.

The real question is different. Which peace? Which Pretoria? And what organized capacity can defend the interests Tigray cannot afford to surrender?

I have addressed elsewhere the difficult dilemma dividing many Tigrayans between the instinct for preservation and the instinct for resistance. The fear of another devastating war is neither cowardice nor indifference to Tigray’s fate. Equally, the conviction that submission cannot secure survival is neither recklessness nor romanticism. Both emerge from real experiences of loss, responsibility, and love for Tigray. Readers interested in that moral and strategic dilemma may find it in my earlier essay, Between Resistance and Survival: On the dilemma dividing Tigrayan thinking, and what it is hiding.

This essay asks a different question. What happens when actors driven by different fears, hopes, and calculations nevertheless produce the same strategic effect: the weakening of the organized capacity through which Tigray’s core objectives might still be pursued?

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There is broad agreement that the Pretoria Agreement remains the immediate framework within which Tigray’s political struggle is presently being conducted. But that agreement conceals a crucial difference. Not everyone means the same Pretoria.

For the majority of Tigrayans who still refuse to normalize the permanent loss of Western Tigray, Pretoria is understood as a framework for restoration. It means the return of displaced communities, the withdrawal of non-ENDF forces from Tigrayan territory, the restoration of constitutional order, and enforceable guarantees against another existential threat. This is Tigray’s version of Pretoria.

This second version of Pretoria — Abiy’s version — is most clearly reflected in the post-Pretoria trajectory of the Getachew-Tsadkan camp. Its direction has been toward accommodation with a reduced political reality. Whether this represents sincere strategic reassessment or something else, the observable effect is the same: it treats the restoration of Western Tigray as effectively beyond Tigray’s reach, normalizes political arrangements that followed from Tigray’s weakened position, and presents adjustment to defeat as responsible pragmatism.

The disagreement, therefore, is not over Pretoria as a word. It is over which Pretoria is being defended. This distinction matters because political language can hide strategic surrender. A person can say Pretoria and mean restoration. Another can say Pretoria and mean managed defeat.

The word is the same. The destination is not.

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At the center of this question is መኸተ (Mekete): not merely a wartime mobilization, but the organized framework through which Tigray has sought to defend its survival and advance the interests it cannot afford to surrender. By መኸተ, I do not mean military resistance alone. I mean the broader institutional architecture that enabled Tigray to survive existential threat: its organized political structures, military command, administrative systems, diplomatic networks, social mobilization, and collective capacity for coordinated action.

This is not an argument that TPLF is identical to Tigray. It is not an argument that organizational interests should override democratic accountability. Nor is it a denial of the deep disappointment many Tigrayans feel toward the leadership that guided Tigray through both historic achievements and painful failures.

It is simply an acknowledgment of political reality. A smaller or newer formation that cannot mobilize at scale is not yet an alternative. It is, at best, a sentiment awaiting structure.

Criticism of መኸተ may be legitimate. Anger at past strategic failures may be justified. Demands for accountability and reform may be necessary. But criticism is not the same as capacity. A slogan is not a structure. Visibility is not organization. Moral energy is not operational capability. The question is not whether መኸተ deserves criticism. It does. The question is whether Tigray can afford to hollow out its only functioning organized framework before a credible alternative exists.

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The first camp is the Getachew-Tsadkan camp. Its direction since Pretoria has been toward accommodation with a reduced political reality. Whether this represents sincere strategic reassessment or something else, the observable effect is the same: its post-Pretoria conduct treats the restoration of Western Tigray as effectively beyond Tigray’s reach, normalizes political arrangements that followed from Tigray’s weakened position, and presents adjustment to defeat as responsible pragmatism.

The direction of this camp did not begin after its break with Mekelle. From the early period of the Interim Regional Administration, its political emphasis was already visible: disarmament and demobilization, administrative normalization, and internal democratization were elevated, while the enforceable implementation of Pretoria’s most urgent restoration provisions remained secondary. This mattered because TIRA’s legitimacy derived from Pretoria; yet Pretoria’s core unresolved questions, the withdrawal of forces, the return of displaced communities, the restoration of constitutional order, and enforceable guarantees, were not treated as the center of political action.

After this camp lost the ability to withstand pressure inside Tigray, especially around Western Tigray and the meaning of መኸተ, its direction became clearer. It moved increasingly toward Addis Ababa and toward parallel political and security instruments, including TPF, whose practical effect was to contest and weaken the TPLF-led organized framework. Whatever language was used, the strategic result was the same: Pretoria was shifted away from restoration and toward the internal reconfiguration of Tigray.

This is not merely an outside interpretation. In October 2025, Abiy Ahmed told Ethiopia’s parliament that the main people his government negotiated with in Pretoria were General Tsadkan, Getachew Reda, and Assefa Abraha, describing them as the signatories of the agreement. He then contrasted them with those who were not in Pretoria but now demand implementation. That public statement revealed the political logic clearly: Abiy treats the Pretoria signatories now aligned with him as the authoritative interpreters of the agreement, while dismissing the TPLF leadership’s demand for full implementation as coming from outsiders to the negotiation.

Whether by design at Pretoria or by convergence afterward, the political direction of this camp moves toward what Addis Ababa finds most manageable. Abiy’s own words make that convergence difficult to ignore.

It would also be misleading to interpret this camp’s visibility as evidence of broad support within Tigray itself. Whatever influence it presently exercises appears disproportionate to its actual organizational presence inside Tigray. Its prominence has been sustained less by demonstrated domestic constituency than by the political space, institutional access, diplomatic engagement, and media attention made available to it outside Tigray. This asymmetry matters. A camp need not command majority support to shape outcomes if it enjoys the backing and amplification of more powerful external actors.

Nor has this camp only expressed alternative political arguments. It has also operated through parallel political and security structures that contested መኸተ’s authority at a moment when unity of command carried existential significance.

If territorial loss becomes accepted not through constitutional process or collective consent, but through the gradual normalization of force as political fact, a dangerous principle is established. Territory stops being a matter of constitutional right. It becomes contingent on the balance of force. This is more than tactical pragmatism. It is a downward revision of Tigray’s national objectives.

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The second camp consists of newer opposition groups and younger constituencies that question መኸተ’s credibility and strategic competence. It would be analytically wrong to treat this camp as equivalent to the first.

Many within this camp continue to affirm the same core objectives shared by most Tigrayans. They reject the permanent loss of territory. They support the return of displaced communities. They oppose surrender disguised as peace. Their disagreement centers on trust. They do not trust መኸተ to deliver. They believe the same strategic culture that failed to anticipate the threat posed by Abiy Ahmed cannot simply be trusted to manage Tigray’s future without meaningful reform. These concerns deserve engagement rather than dismissal.

But political commitments should be judged not only by what groups occasionally say, but also by where they consistently invest their energy. If territorial integrity, the return of displaced people, and Tigray’s constitutional rights are truly non-negotiable, one would expect these objectives to sit at the center of daily political practice. Yet for some within this camp, these commitments appear only occasionally, while the greater part of political attention is given to discrediting መኸተ, amplifying its failures, and deepening public hostility toward the only organized framework presently capable of acting at scale.

This does not necessarily mean their stated objectives are insincere. But it does raise a fair question: what does the consistent direction of political energy reveal about actual priorities?

Although this camp draws its formal boundaries differently from the first and often insists on full implementation of Pretoria, the practical overlap between parts of it and the Getachew-Tsadkan camp should not be ignored. Shared media ecosystems, recurring patterns of amplification, and a common concentration of political energy on delegitimizing መኸተ have created areas of convergence that are difficult to explain purely as coincidence.

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Complicating the picture further is a growing peace-first instinct that overlaps with both camps while extending beyond them into wider Tigrayan society. It is not a separate camp. It is a mentality that appears among ordinary Tigrayans, diaspora professionals, people sympathetic to መኸተ, and people who support neither side. Those who hold it do not openly reject Western Tigray, the return of displaced people, or territorial integrity. In principle, they may accept all of them. But in practice, they speak almost entirely in the language of peace, survival, and avoiding another sacrifice of Tigrayan youth.

This position should not be mocked. It is rooted in trauma. It is shaped by memory. It reflects a genuine fear that Tigray may be pushed into a war it cannot win and a sacrifice it cannot bear.

But the political effect of this language depends on what it leaves unsaid. If peace is invoked while Western Tigray and the displaced are pushed to the margins, peace becomes detached from justice. If avoiding war becomes the only visible priority, while the cost of accepting unresolved occupation remains unnamed, the language of peace begins to drift toward the management of defeat.

The issue is not whether Tigray desires peace. No people desires peace more than a people that has already paid the price of war. The issue is whether peace is being used to secure Tigray’s rights or to avoid confronting the conditions that deny them.

I have addressed this use of peace language as a political instrument more directly in an earlier essay, When “Peace” Becomes a Weapon Against Tigray. The point bears repeating here only briefly: peace becomes dangerous when it is detached from the conditions that make peace real. When occupation, displacement, and political coercion remain unresolved, appeals to peace can become a method of containment rather than a path to justice.

A person may sincerely fear war and genuinely distrust መኸተ. They may still end up reinforcing a political environment in which Tigray’s strongest demands are softened, delayed, or displaced.

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Intentions may differ. Language may differ. Motivations may differ. But when political energy flows consistently in the same direction, strategic effects often converge.

The Getachew-Tsadkan camp weakens መኸተ by accepting a reduced Tigray and revising downward the objectives that justified resistance. The newer opposition side weakens መኸተ by contesting its credibility without yet producing an operational replacement. The peace-first voices weaken መኸተ when they make the preservation of calm appear more urgent than the restoration of justice, while leaving unclear what conditions would make peace durable.

These positions are not morally identical. They are not politically identical. They do not arise from the same motives. Yet their combined effect can hollow out precisely the organized framework Tigray still needs to pursue the objectives most Tigrayans say they support.

Abiy Ahmed does not need any one camp to succeed on its own. He needs only the combined effect to persist long enough to exhaust Tigray’s organized capacity. That is the paradox of convergence.

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I am not arguing that preserving መኸተ comes without cost. It does not. The same organizational culture that failed to anticipate Abiy Ahmed’s strategy may repeat its errors. The trust deficit among younger generations is real. Reform delayed can become reform denied. Choosing continuity is therefore not a risk-free option. But neither is fragmentation. Choosing between imperfect instruments and strategic collapse is not a comfortable choice. It is the only honest one.

Visible reform would not require dramatic gestures. It would require disciplined communication, serious engagement with criticism, public accountability for past failures, institutional space for younger voices, and a clear account of how internal cohesion will produce concrete progress on Western Tigray and the return of displaced communities.

Trust cannot be demanded as loyalty. It must be earned through changed conduct.

መኸተ cannot ask for loyalty while leaving the causes of distrust unanswered. Accountability for strategic failures, meaningful inclusion of groups that presently feel politically without a home, and transparent explanation of how organized capacity will be translated into strategic gains are not optional. They are essential.

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The task ahead is neither blind loyalty nor opposition for its own sake. It is to recognize that, beneath the noise created by trauma, distrust, and competing political languages, most Tigrayans still stand on the same essential ground. They may not always see it clearly. They may express it through different fears and different frustrations. But the survival of Tigray, the dignity of its displaced people, the restoration of its territorial integrity, and the protection of its political agency remain shared concerns.

That shared ground must now be recognized, organized, and defended, not wasted.

Abiy Ahmed benefits when Tigrayans misread their own disagreements as permanent fracture. He benefits when trauma becomes suspicion, when suspicion becomes paralysis, and when paralysis gives him more time to consolidate Tigray’s pain into a new political reality. Tigray cannot afford to give him that space.

This is why መኸተ must be preserved, strengthened, and reformed at the same time. Supporting መኸተ does not mean silencing criticism. It means directing criticism toward correction, discipline, accountability, and effectiveness. It means helping the only organized framework presently capable of defending Tigray’s survival interests become more inclusive, more transparent, and more strategically focused.

The TDF remains the clearest example of why organized capacity matters. Whatever political disagreements exist among Tigrayans, the trust invested in TDF reflects a basic truth: Tigray survives not through slogans but through organized sacrifice, discipline, and collective capacity. That lesson must be extended beyond the battlefield into politics, diplomacy, administration, communication, and national strategy.

Peace becomes dangerous when it asks Tigray to disarm politically before justice is secured. Criticism becomes dangerous when it weakens the structures needed to secure the very interests critics claim to support. But መኸተ also becomes dangerous to itself if it demands loyalty without earning renewed confidence through reform.

Tigray knows what it cannot abandon. It is still deciding what it ultimately intends to build. That unfinished conversation must continue. But it must continue from a position of cohesion rather than fragmentation, confidence rather than exhaustion, and organized purpose rather than mutual suspicion. The challenge is not to eliminate disagreement. It is to ensure that disagreement serves Tigray’s survival rather than Abiy Ahmed’s strategy.

The task before Tigrayans is therefore clear: recognize the shared ground that still exists, strengthen and reform the institutions that remain indispensable, and turn friction into cohesion before others turn it into fracture.

ትግራይ ትስዕር！ሰላም ንህዝብና！