A landslide victory for Ethiopia’s ruling party might sound like political stability. But on the streets of Addis Ababa, the mood is less of celebration and more of a wary exhale. The Prosperity Party, led by Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, has swept the polls with a commanding majority. Yet the real story is not the numbers at the ballot box. It is the fragile peace deal with Tigrayan forces, brokered by the African Union and quietly backed by Britain, now showing worrying cracks.
I spoke with a café owner in the Merkato district, who asked not to be named. He shrugged at the election result. “They always win,” he said, polishing a glass. “The question is whether the peace holds. If it doesn’t, we go back to the bullet.” His words echo a broader anxiety among ordinary Ethiopians: that the election, while legally sound, has done little to address the deep ethnic fractures left by two years of civil war.
The British government has been a key supporter of the peace process, providing diplomatic cover and aid. But recent reports of renewed clashes in the Tigray region between local forces and Amhara militias have raised alarms. London’s quiet diplomacy may be unravelling. The fear is that a landslide victory for the ruling party could be interpreted as a mandate for continued military action, rather than reconciliation.
There is a human cost beneath the political headlines. In the regional capital Mekelle, shops are reopening but customers are scarce. The trauma of war is etched into every conversation. A young university student told me she voted for the first time, not out of enthusiasm, but out of a sense of duty. “We need to show the world we want peace,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I am scared it won’t last.”
The cultural shift here is subtle but significant. Ethiopians have long prided themselves on their nation’s history of independence and resilience. Now, there is a growing weariness with conflict, a desire for normalcy that transcends party lines. The election result may be a landslide, but the real test will be whether the government can translate that mandate into genuine peacebuilding.
Britain’s role is also under scrutiny. As a former colonial power with a complicated legacy in the Horn of Africa, its involvement is viewed with suspicion by some. Yet for many ordinary Ethiopians, international support is seen as essential to prevent a return to war. The question is whether the British-backed deal can survive the political aftershocks of this landslide.
For now, life goes on. The buses run, the markets hum, and children go to school. But beneath the surface, the social psychology of a nation on edge persists. Every news bulletin, every rumour of troop movements, is met with a collective holding of breath. Ethiopia’s ruling party has won. But the peace, and the British investment in it, remains perilously fragile.