The signing of the Cessation of Hostilities Agreement (CoHA) in Pretoria last November did more than just stop the heavy artillery fire. It changed the very geometry of power in northern Ethiopia. For two years, the conflict between the Ethiopian Federal Government and the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF) carved deep trenches through social identities and family lineages. Now, as the dust settles from the kinetic warfare, a different kind of friction is emerging. The silence left by the guns is not a vacuum; it is a space being filled by new, localized grievances that the peace treaty did not—and perhaps could not—address.
The Vacuum Left by the Ceasefire
When the fighting stopped, the immediate goal was survival. For the civilian population in cities like Mekelle, the return of banking services and telecommunications felt like a miracle. People stopped worrying about airstrikes and started worrying about how to buy grain. However, as the formal war ended, the underlying territorial disputes remained frozen rather than resolved. The Pretoria deal focused on the high-level politics of federalism and disarmament, but it left the messy, granular reality of land ownership in limbo.
In the contested areas of Western Tigray, the atmosphere remains thick with suspicion. This region has become a flashpoint where local militias and federal forces overlap. While the federal government talks about reintegrating Tigray into the national fabric, the actual control of land remains a zero-sum game. For a farmer in a border village, the signature of a politician in South Africa feels distant compared to the presence of an armed group in the next valley.
Internal Fractures Within the TPLF
The peace deal also acted as a catalyst for internal political shifts within the Tigrayan leadership. The war was a unifying trauma, a common enemy that forced disparate factions to align under a single command. Now that the existential threat has receded, those internal disagreements are resurfacing. There is a visible tension between the hardliners, who demand total justice for war crimes, and the pragmatists, who believe that rebuilding the economy requires compromise with Addis Ababa.
Political maneuvering is increasingly visible in Mekelle’s streets. The TPLF, once a monolith, is now navigating a delicate balancing act. They must satisfy a population that is hungry and traumatized, while also adhering to the disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration (DDR) protocols required by the Pretoria agreement. This friction is not just about ideology; it is about who gets to define the post-war identity of Tigray. Is the region a federal state with strong autonomy, or is it a subordinate administrative unit? The answer to that question will dictate the next decade of Ethiopian politics.
The Shadow of Non-State Actors
One of the most complicated legacies of the conflict is the proliferation of irregular armed groups. Throughout the war, various ethnic militias joined the fray, often acting outside the direct command of their central leadership. These groups have found new ground in the post-conflict era. They do not fit neatly into the categories of the peace treaty. Even as the Tigray Defense Forces (TDF) undergo disarmament, these local actors remain entrenched in specific territories.
These irregular forces create a layered security environment. When a central government tries to enforce a law, they often run into these localized, armed entities that view any outside authority as an interloper. This complicates the humanitarian response. Aid workers often find that the safety of a convoy depends not on a high-level agreement, but on whether a local commander deems their passage acceptable. The peace is, in many ways, a patchwork of local understandings rather than a unified national reality.
Economic Scarcity and New Grievances
Hunger is a potent political tool. The blockade that characterized much of the war left the region's infrastructure in ruins. Bridges are down, markets are empty, and the agricultural cycle was broken by the violence. As the Tigrayan people attempt to return to their fields, they are finding a landscape that is physically and economically unrecognizable. This scarcity feeds into new social tensions.
When resources are low, people look for someone to blame. In the absence of a clear, singular enemy, the blame often shifts toward neighbors or competing ethnic groups. We see this in the competition for grazing land and water rights, which were exacerbated by the displacement of millions. The struggle for survival is driving a wedge between communities that might have coexisted more peacefully before the war. Economic desperation is stripping away the social buffers that usually prevent small disputes from turning into communal violence.
The Question of Accountability
Finally, there is the massive, unresolved issue of justice. The Pretoria deal emphasized stability, and stability often comes at the expense of immediate accountability. For many in Tigray, the lack of a clear mechanism to prosecute war crimes feels like a betrayal of the victims. There is a sense that the peace was bought with the silence of the grieving. This creates a simmering resentment that could act as fuel for future unrest.
International human rights organizations continue to document atrocities, but their reports often find little traction in the immediate political calculus of the peace process. The federal government seeks normalization; the TPLF seeks justice. These two goals are often in direct conflict. As long as the survivors see no legal consequence for the violence they endured, the
