In news that will likely concern every serious student of geopolitics, the Ethiopian government has claimed a landslide victory in its ongoing conflict with the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF). The UK, ever the nervous spectator, has called for restraint. But restraint from whom? And to what end? Let us not kid ourselves: this is not a victory that brings peace. It is a victory that plants the seeds of the next war.
One is reminded of the Roman victory at the Battle of Pharsalus. Caesar crushed Pompey, but the Republic did not heal. It festered. Octavian and Antony tore it apart. Ethiopia is no different. The TPLF may be defeated in the field, but the grievances that fuelled this conflict remain: ethnic federalism, economic marginalisation, and a central government that views dissent as treason. The landslide will not wash away these stains. It will only drive them deeper underground.
The UK's call for restraint is a classic British gesture: impotent, moralising, and utterly detached from reality. What exactly does London expect? That Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, having won a decisive military victory, will suddenly embrace his enemies? History suggests otherwise. After the Napoleonic Wars, the victors did not hug the French. They imposed a punitive peace that led to more war. But perhaps the Foreign Office believes this time is different because it involves Abiy, a Nobel Peace Prize winner. As if Nobel laureates are immune to the temptations of power. Tell that to Henry Kissinger.
There is a broader intellectual decadence here. The West, particularly Britain, has lost its appetite for understanding the brutal mechanics of power. We prefer to imagine that conflicts can be resolved through dialogue and 'capacity building'. But Ethiopia is a powder keg of ethnic identities, each with its own historical grievances. The TPLF may be down, but the Amhara, the Oromo, the Somali, and the Afar are all watching. They see a central government that is willing to use overwhelming force. They will prepare accordingly.
Let us also consider the role of national identity. Ethiopia is one of the few African states that was never fully colonised. It has a proud history of independence. But that pride can be a double-edged sword. It can fuel a sense of exceptionalism that justifies harsh measures against internal enemies. The current government sees itself as the guardian of a unified Ethiopian identity. The TPLF, with its regionalist ambitions, is a threat to that vision. But unity imposed by the sword is not unity. It is occupation.
I fear we are witnessing the beginning of a cycle that has repeated itself countless times: victory, resentment, rebellion, and more war. The Romans knew this. The Victorians knew this. But we, in our progressive arrogance, have forgotten. The landslide in Ethiopia is not an end. It is a beginning. And the UK's call for restraint is nothing but a polite way of saying 'we have no idea what to do'. Perhaps it is time we stopped pretending and started preparing for the chaos ahead.