Why Ethiopia Wants the Red Sea and Why Eritrea Is Worried

Ethiopia’s demand for Red Sea access is fundamentally about geography and economic security: since Eritrea became independent in 1993, Ethiopia has been landlocked and has depended overwhelmingly on ports outside its territory, especially Djibouti, for international trade. Addis Ababa therefore wants a more reliable maritime outlet, but that does not automatically mean it is seeking ownership of an Eritrean port. The crucial distinction is between commercial access, military access and sovereignty—three very different arrangements with very different consequences for Eritrea.

Eritrea’s concern is that a request for access could evolve into a demand for strategic control. Assab and Massawa are Eritrean ports on sovereign Eritrean territory, and Ethiopia’s much larger population, economy and military weight make any arrangement involving permanent bases, exclusive zones or territorial rights especially sensitive in Asmara. That is why an apparently simple question—whether Ethiopia should be able to use a nearby port—has become intertwined with the unresolved security relationship between the two states.

Why being landlocked matters to Ethiopia

Ethiopia became landlocked when Eritrea achieved independence in 1993. The change transformed what had previously been a domestic transport relationship with ports on the Red Sea into an international transit problem: Ethiopian imports and exports now have to cross another state’s territory before reaching a seaport.

In practice, Djibouti became the principal gateway for Ethiopian foreign trade. The U.S. International Trade Administration has estimated that roughly 90–95% of Ethiopia’s international trade has moved through Djibouti, while noting that this concentration contributes to high logistics costs and leaves Ethiopia heavily dependent on a single external corridor.

That dependence matters for reasons beyond freight prices.

A landlocked country can still trade perfectly well. Switzerland and Austria, for example, demonstrate that being landlocked does not prevent a country from becoming a major trading economy. The problem is dependence on transit infrastructure controlled by other states.

For Ethiopia, the vulnerability has several dimensions:

• Port charges and handling costs are determined outside Ethiopia.
• Cargo must cross an international border before reaching the sea.
• Roads, railways and customs systems in the transit country affect Ethiopian supply chains.
• Political disputes can disrupt trade.
• Instability around the Red Sea can affect shipping costs and insurance even when the physical port remains open.
• Ethiopia has limited ability to diversify its maritime gateways without agreements with neighboring coastal states.

This is why Addis Ababa describes maritime access as a strategic and economic issue rather than merely a desire for a naval coastline. Ethiopia’s recent policy documents have emphasized the need to reduce its vulnerability to disruption along the Red Sea corridor.

Ethiopia once used Assab and Massawa

The history makes today’s argument more emotionally and politically complicated.

Before Eritrea’s independence, Ethiopian international commerce could use the Eritrean ports of Assab and Massawa. After Eritrea became independent, the two governments initially maintained economic arrangements that allowed Ethiopia to continue using the ports.

That arrangement did not mean Ethiopia retained sovereignty over Eritrean territory. It meant that an independent Eritrea allowed its newly sovereign ports to serve Ethiopian commerce.

The distinction is important because modern arguments sometimes blur the two ideas.

Historical use of a port is not the same thing as continuing territorial ownership of the port.

The relationship deteriorated during the 1990s. Ethiopia increasingly shifted trade away from Eritrean ports before the outbreak of the 1998–2000 Eritrea-Ethiopia war. Once hostilities began, Ethiopia stopped using Assab and Massawa and redirected its maritime trade through Djibouti. Human Rights Watch records that Assab had been the principal route for much of Ethiopia’s imports before the war.

The World Bank likewise recorded that operations at Assab ceased during the 1998 conflict and that Massawa became Eritrea’s principal functioning port.

The result was a profound structural change: Djibouti became indispensable to Ethiopia’s external commerce, while Eritrea’s ports lost their Ethiopian hinterland.

Assab and Massawa are not interchangeable

The two ports are frequently mentioned together, but their strategic positions are different.

Historical records describe Assab as the larger and more modern of Eritrea’s two principal ports at the time of the 1998 conflict and as a port heavily used to serve Ethiopia.

Massawa has a much longer history as a Red Sea trading port and remains important to Eritrea’s own maritime economy. Its location also gives it strategic relevance because of its position along the Red Sea shipping corridor.

For Ethiopia, however, Assab is particularly attractive because of its geographic proximity to Ethiopian territory. A route through Assab could potentially shorten some supply chains compared with the existing Djibouti corridor, although the actual economic benefit would depend on roads, railways, customs arrangements, port investment and security.

A port on a map is not automatically an efficient trade corridor.

The three meanings of “access”

Much of the confusion surrounding the dispute disappears once three different concepts are separated.

1. Commercial access

This is the least sovereignty-sensitive arrangement.

Ethiopia could negotiate the right to move cargo through an Eritrean port, paying port fees and using agreed road or rail corridors. Eritrea would retain full sovereignty over the territory and port.

In principle, this is similar to an ordinary international port agreement.

A commercial arrangement could cover:

• Ethiopian import and export cargo
• Port handling
• Warehousing
• Customs procedures
• Road and rail transit
• Long-term leases for commercial facilities
• Investment in port infrastructure
• Agreed tariffs and fees
• Security arrangements

This kind of agreement would give Ethiopia something it urgently wants—reliable maritime connectivity—without transferring Eritrean territory to Ethiopia.

It would also give Eritrea something valuable: port revenue, transit income and potentially investment.

2. Military access

Military access is fundamentally different.

A commercial agreement does not automatically give Ethiopia the right to station soldiers, operate a naval facility or establish a military base.

A military arrangement could range from relatively limited cooperation—such as naval visits or maritime-security coordination—to something much more consequential, such as a permanent Ethiopian naval facility.

For Eritrea, this distinction matters enormously.

The Red Sea is already a heavily militarized strategic environment involving regional and international powers. A permanent Ethiopian military presence on Eritrea’s coast would alter the security balance between the two countries and could make a commercial disagreement much harder to contain.

Ethiopia has historically been a major military power in the Horn of Africa. Eritrea, by contrast, is a smaller coastal state whose security strategy places enormous emphasis on sovereignty and territorial control.

Consequently, a deal that looks economically reasonable when described as “port access” could look very different to Eritrean officials if it includes military privileges.

3. Sovereignty

Sovereignty is the hardest issue of all.

If Ethiopia owned territory around Assab or Massawa, or exercised sovereign jurisdiction over a dedicated coastal zone, the arrangement would go far beyond port access.

That would raise questions about:

• Territorial integrity
• Border agreements
• Customs jurisdiction
• Policing
• Military control
• Resource rights
• International recognition
• Eritrea’s constitutional and political authority

There is no general rule under international law that gives a landlocked state the right to acquire sovereign territory in order to reach the sea.

The legal position is much more nuanced. The UN Convention on the Law of the Sea recognizes that landlocked states have a right of access to and from the sea and freedom of transit, but it also expressly preserves the sovereignty of transit states. The terms for exercising that access are to be established through agreements between the countries concerned.

That principle is central to understanding the dispute.

Ethiopia can have a legitimate interest in reliable access to the sea without possessing a unilateral legal right to Eritrean territory. Eritrea can defend its territorial sovereignty without denying that Ethiopia has legitimate economic reasons to seek transit arrangements.

Those positions are not inherently contradictory.

What Ethiopia is actually asking for

Ethiopian leaders have repeatedly emphasized the country’s need for Red Sea access while saying the issue should be resolved peacefully.

In March 2025, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed explicitly ruled out war with Eritrea over sea access and said Ethiopia sought a negotiated solution.

Ethiopia’s diplomatic messaging has also linked maritime access with broader negotiations involving Eritrea. In 2026, an Ethiopian government foreign-policy document described a willingness to negotiate maritime affairs and access to the Red Sea through Assab while simultaneously demanding respect for Ethiopia’s territorial sovereignty.

That language matters because “access to Assab” can describe several radically different arrangements.

It could mean Ethiopian trucks and containers using an Eritrean port.

It could mean Ethiopia financing and operating commercial facilities under an agreed lease.

It could mean a special economic or logistics zone.

It could mean a naval facility.

Or, in the most expansive interpretation, it could mean some form of territorial or sovereign control.

These are not equivalent demands, and treating them as though they were creates unnecessary confusion.

Why Eritrea is worried

From Eritrea’s perspective, the issue cannot be separated from history.

Eritrea fought a long war for independence from Ethiopia before becoming independent in 1993. The two countries then fought another devastating war from 1998 to 2000. The Algiers Agreement ended that war and established a framework for resolving the border dispute; subsequent international statements have repeatedly emphasized the sovereignty and territorial integrity of both states.

The 2018 peace agreement temporarily transformed the relationship. But the rapprochement did not eliminate the underlying asymmetry between the countries.

Ethiopia is vastly larger in population and economic scale.

Eritrea controls the coastline.

That creates an unusual strategic relationship in which the larger landlocked country needs something controlled by the smaller coastal country.

For Eritrea, the fear is therefore not simply that Ethiopia wants cheaper shipping.

It is that an initial commercial arrangement could create dependence, followed by pressure for expanded privileges.

The concern is especially acute when bilateral relations are deteriorating.

As of October 2026, Ethiopia and Eritrea are again in a serious diplomatic and security crisis. Eritrea severed diplomatic ties after Ethiopia closed its embassy in Asmara and expelled Eritrean diplomats, while renewed fighting in Ethiopia’s Tigray region has generated fresh accusations and military tensions involving the two neighbors.

In that environment, even a proposal that might be commercially manageable during a period of trust can appear threatening.

The sovereignty question is the real dividing line

A useful way to understand the dispute is to imagine four possible levels of Ethiopian involvement:

Transit: Ethiopian goods cross Eritrea to reach an Eritrean port.

Commercial operation: Ethiopia receives a long-term concession or lease to operate specified port facilities.

Military presence: Ethiopia obtains rights to maintain military or naval facilities.

Sovereign control: Ethiopia acquires or exercises sovereign authority over territory on the Eritrean coast.

The first two can theoretically be negotiated without changing the international border.

The third creates a major security question.

The fourth would fundamentally challenge Eritrea’s territorial sovereignty.

This distinction also explains why statements about Ethiopia seeking “a port” can be misleading. A country does not necessarily need to own a port to obtain substantial economic value from it.

Singapore, for example, is a sovereign port state. But many international ports around the world operate through leases, concessions, joint ventures and other arrangements in which the commercial operator does not own the territory itself.

For Ethiopia, the economically rational objective may therefore be reliable, long-term and politically protected access rather than territorial possession.

Whether such an arrangement is politically acceptable is a separate question.

International law does not solve the political problem

The law of the sea provides an important framework, but it does not automatically dictate the precise arrangement Ethiopia and Eritrea should adopt.

Article 125 of UNCLOS recognizes access for landlocked states and freedom of transit. But it also states that transit states retain full sovereignty over their territory and that the practical terms of transit must be agreed between the states concerned.

That means international law supports the principle of access while leaving considerable room for negotiation over its implementation.

The likely questions would include:

• Which port?
• For what types of cargo?
• At what tariff?
• Through which roads or railways?
• Who pays for infrastructure?
• Who provides security?
• Who controls customs?
• How long would the agreement last?
• Could Ethiopia operate its own terminals?
• Could Eritrea inspect or restrict cargo?
• Would military personnel be permitted?
• What happens if bilateral relations deteriorate?
• What dispute-resolution mechanism applies?

Those details are not technical footnotes. They determine whether an access agreement becomes a stable economic partnership or another source of strategic friction.

Why Djibouti cannot simply be dismissed

Ethiopia’s dependence on Djibouti is often presented as an argument for replacing Djibouti with Eritrea.

That is too simplistic.

Djibouti has already become deeply integrated into Ethiopia’s logistics system. Roads, railways, dry ports, customs procedures and commercial networks have developed around the corridor. The Addis Ababa–Djibouti railway, for example, was designed specifically to improve the movement of freight between Ethiopia and the Djibouti port system.

An Eritrean route would therefore not simply be a matter of opening a gate to the sea.

It would require investment in transport infrastructure, border facilities, port capacity and logistics networks.

The strategic value would be diversification, not necessarily the complete abandonment of Djibouti.

That is an important distinction. Ethiopia could benefit from having multiple maritime corridors even if Djibouti remained its largest gateway.

The Somaliland option shows what Ethiopia is trying to achieve

Ethiopia’s interest in alternative maritime access has also extended beyond Eritrea.

In January 2024, Ethiopia signed a memorandum of understanding with Somaliland concerning access to the Red Sea through a coastal area near Berbera. The agreement generated intense opposition from Somalia, which regards Somaliland as part of its sovereign territory, demonstrating how quickly the search for maritime access can become a question of territorial sovereignty and regional security.

The episode illustrates the broader strategic problem for Addis Ababa.

Ethiopia needs access, but every route to the sea passes through another political jurisdiction.

Djibouti offers established commercial access.

Eritrea offers geographically attractive ports but has a deeply troubled political relationship with Ethiopia.

Somaliland offers another possible corridor but sits inside the unresolved Somalia-Somaliland sovereignty dispute.

Port Sudan offers another theoretical alternative but is constrained by Sudan’s devastating conflict.

The geography therefore gives Ethiopia an incentive to diversify while simultaneously ensuring that almost every diversification strategy has geopolitical consequences.

What a workable Ethiopia-Eritrea deal could look like

If the objective is genuinely commercial rather than territorial, the most sustainable arrangement would probably have several characteristics.

First, Eritrea would retain unmistakable sovereignty over its territory and ports.

Second, Ethiopia would receive legally defined and long-term commercial access, reducing the risk that political disputes could suddenly interrupt trade.

Third, infrastructure responsibilities would be explicit. If Ethiopia finances roads, railways, warehouses or port facilities, the ownership and operating rights would need to be clearly established.

Fourth, the agreement would need credible dispute-resolution mechanisms. A port agreement that works only while relations are friendly would provide little strategic security.

Fifth, military rights should be separately defined rather than hidden inside commercial provisions. If the parties want maritime-security cooperation, they should say precisely what it entails.

Finally, the arrangement would need to create meaningful benefits for Eritrea. Port fees, infrastructure investment, employment, transit revenue and broader commercial integration could give Asmara a reason to view Ethiopian access as an economic asset rather than a strategic concession.

None of this guarantees success. Trust is the missing infrastructure.

The 1998–2000 war, the unresolved security relationship and the current deterioration in bilateral ties make it difficult to create a durable agreement without addressing the wider political relationship. International observers have repeatedly called on Ethiopia and Eritrea to respect sovereignty and resolve disputes peacefully.

Why the Red Sea matters beyond Ethiopia and Eritrea

The dispute is also part of a much larger transformation of the Horn of Africa.

The Red Sea connects the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean through the Suez Canal and Bab el-Mandeb. It is consequently important to global shipping, energy transportation and military strategy. Eritrea’s roughly 1,000-kilometre coastline gives it an unusually significant geographic position, while the wider region has attracted growing attention from Gulf states and other external powers.

For Ethiopia, maritime access is therefore about more than importing consumer goods.

It concerns the resilience of a major economy whose population and commercial activity are concentrated inland.

For Eritrea, its coastline is one of the country’s defining strategic assets.

For outside powers, ports along the Red Sea can offer commercial, logistical and military advantages.

That combination makes the Ethiopia-Eritrea question much larger than a dispute over two ports.

What would actually reduce the risk?

The safest distinction is also the simplest one:

Commercial access does not require sovereignty.

Ethiopia can reasonably seek dependable access to international shipping. International law recognizes the interests of landlocked states in reaching the sea. Eritrea can equally insist that access must be negotiated and cannot override its sovereignty over its territory.

The dangerous step would be allowing the debate to move from “How can Ethiopia obtain reliable maritime access?” to “How can Ethiopia obtain sovereign or coercive control over a Red Sea outlet?”

Those are different questions.

The first can potentially produce a commercial bargain in which both countries benefit. The second directly touches the security architecture established after Eritrea’s independence and the wars that followed.

And that is why Eritrea is worried.

Ethiopia does not need to own Assab or Massawa to solve its landlocked problem. It needs a maritime arrangement that is reliable enough for businesses to trust, durable enough for governments to plan around and secure enough to survive political disagreements. Eritrea, meanwhile, needs assurances that commercial access will remain commercial—and will not become the first step toward military or territorial demands. With relations again deteriorating in 2026, the decisive issue is no longer whether Ethiopia needs the sea; it is whether the two countries can separate Ethiopia’s legitimate need for connectivity from Eritrea’s equally fundamental need for sovereignty.