Long post. #Ethiopia: Nearly four years after the Pretoria agreement promised to silence the guns, Tigray is again in full-scale war. This is a second war, not an isolated flare-up. And because the TPLF has joined a wider alliance of armed groups seeking to overthrow the government in Addis Ababa, this conflict is no longer confined to the political contest between Tigray and the federal state. Pretoria is dead in practical terms. But a serious account of its collapse cannot begin and end with the latest offensive. Nor can it treat every TPLF decision as an inevitable response to federal misconduct. The agreement imposed obligations on both sides. Its failure must be examined with the same rigor whichever actor is under scrutiny. The Pretoria agreement⁠ linked disarmament to a political transition. It called for Tigray’s representation in federal institutions, dialogue over underlying disputes, an interim administration until elections, transitional justice and a constitutional process for contested territories. The Nairobi implementation declaration⁠ tied heavy weapons handover to the withdrawal of foreign and non-ENDF forces from Tigray. Tigrayan forces began handing over heavy weapons, and the African Union recorded that as a significant step. The federal government’s failure to deliver reciprocal security and political commitments cannot be waved away. But neither does it erase the TPLF’s subsequent choices. The TPLF’s position on Eritrea exposes one of the conflict’s central contradictions. Its leaders demanded that the federal government ensure Eritrean and other non-ENDF forces left Tigray, as the agreement required. Yet reports and allegations of TPLF contacts with Eritrea were already public before the current alliance took shape. Those allegations remain contested, and Eritrea denies supporting the armed groups. Still, the relationship has become too consequential to exclude from the analysis. A demand for reciprocal compliance loses force when a party’s own evolving relationship with a former enemy is treated as beyond question. The interim administration’s collapse also had more than one author. Federal extensions and appointments weakened its legitimacy and postponed the promised elections. But bitter factionalism within the TPLF and Tigray’s political and military leadership crippled its ability to govern. Getachew Reda was forced from the interim presidency and fled to Addis Ababa, where he entered the federal administration. General Tadesse Worede later led the interim administration. The TPLF displaced him in May, restored its prewar political structures and reasserted its own authority. In the days into this new war, Tadesse was detained with other senior military figures who had questioned the course toward war. This is not a minor internal dispute. It is evidence that the institutions intended to carry Tigray toward elections were consumed by factional struggle and ultimately dismantled by the TPLF itself. The new armed alliance intensifies that contradiction. It includes an Amhara Fano movement whose forces fought against the TPLF during the 2020 to 2022 war. Former enemies may join forces for tactical reasons, but tactical unity does not establish a shared program for justice, democracy or coexistence. A coalition united by its determination to remove a government still has to answer what it will build, how it will govern and how it will address the grievances among its own members. Yet some now portray the alliance as a national rescue movement and treat scrutiny as betrayal. Criticism becomes “anti-people” or, absurdly, proof of support for the regime. That is moral coercion in place of political argument. Some who once opposed both the government and armed factionalism now seem to have abandoned that standard precisely when it is most needed. The federal government’s repression, political exclusion and record of atrocities remain central to the crisis. Nothing here excuses them.