This is a confutation of the Economist’s latest story, “The forgotten horror of Western Tigray”
How can there be so-called “ethnic purity tests” in a region where nearly everyone is bilingual, and ethnic identity has long been fluid? This claim defies basic sociological and historical reality. Where is the evidence for it? Similarly, the harrowing rape allegations cited by The Economist warrant scrutiny. Has the magazine applied the same investigative standards it would demand if the accused were Western actors, or is this another case of “believe all atrocity propaganda when it’s African”?
Historical records, including official census data, show that the demographic composition of the area dramatically shifted in the 1990s, after the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) annexed what was traditionally known as North Gondar or Welkait, renaming it “Western Tigray”—a term The Economist uncritically adopts. During the TPLF’s 27-year rule, hundreds of thousands of Amhara residents were systematically displaced, silenced, or forced to assimilate. Until late 2020, declaring any identity other than “Tigrayan” risked harassment, expulsion, or worse. Yet this crucial historical context is entirely absent from the article.
Even the figures presented raise questions. The claim of 750,000 internally displaced persons (IDPs) would equal the entire population of the area known as “Western Tigray”—including both Tigrayans and the remaining Amharas who survived nearly three decades of TPLF rule. The actual number of displaced persons must therefore be significantly lower. Moreover, it is the TPLF, not the federal government, that continues to obstruct IDP returns. The group has conditioned return and reintegration on regaining full political control of the territory—a demand that undermines reconciliation and stability.
Senior TPLF figures themselves have recently condemned their party’s conduct. Both Getachew Reda, former regional president of Tigray, and General Tsadkan Gebretensae, a key TPLF commander, have publicly accused the organization of exploiting displaced civilians as political pawns. According to their own statements, the TPLF leadership is holding IDPs in dire camp conditions to advance its political objectives, despite repeated efforts by the Federal Government to facilitate their safe return. Meanwhile, the latest reports indicate IDPs are escaping squalid conditions in their camps and seeking work in cities and towns throughout Ethiopia. Some have even sought the harrowing escape by migrating as far as Yemen and Saudi Arabia. As TPLF’s warlord generals and cadres seeks to capitalize on their tired old “victimhood” narratives, the people they claim to represent are literally and tragically disappearing.
Meanwhile, Demeke Zewdu, the senior security official assigned to the area, himself an Amhara, has publicly reaffirmed his support for the return of IDPs, dialogue and peaceful coexistence between the Amhara and Tigrayan communities. A vast majority of Ethiopians share this aspiration—to close this painful chapter through reconciliation, not renewed conflict. Unfortunately, it is the TPLF that continues to hold an entire region hostage to its political ambitions. Fortunately, with time, this reality is becoming apparent, even to many in the Tigray region. Surely, The Economist cannot be this oblivious to these facts on the ground.
Equally troubling is the TPLF’s refusal to submit an official list of displaced persons eligible for return to the African Union observer mission monitoring progress on the Pretoria Peace Agreement, raising credible concerns that its motives are not humanitarian but territorial—using both genuine and fabricated IDPs as instruments of political leverage.
The claim that Amhara militias are, three years after the end of the war, going house-to-house killing and plundering anyone perceived as even slightly Tigrayan is unsubstantiated and unsupported by verifiable evidence. It relies entirely on hearsay and anecdotal testimonies—an approach that The Economist has regrettably repeated throughout its coverage of the conflict from 2020 to 2022, often without corroborating documentation or independent verification.
Equally misleading is the suggestion that the Federal Government seeks to bar Tigrayan returnees from so-called “Western Tigray” out of fear that the area could become a weapons corridor from Sudan. This argument ignores current geopolitical realities. The TPLF’s primary regional partner today is the regime in Eritrea, not Sudan. The organization’s renewed alignment with Asmara allows it to access arms and logistical support far more easily through Eritrean territory than across Sudan’s fractured borderlands.
Moreover, the article’s reference to “Army 70” in Sudan is inaccurate and deeply misleading. This group consists largely of former TPLF combatants known as “Samri”, implicated in the Mai Kadra massacre of November 2020—one of the deadliest atrocities of the war—who later fled across the border. Far from being humanitarian defenders, these fighters have since become mercenaries in Sudan’s internal civil war, reportedly operating alongside forces loyal to General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan. To portray them as a legitimate liberation force or potential saviors of displaced Tigrayans is both irresponsible and historically false. Their re-emergence in Sudan’s conflict is far more likely to bring renewed instability and suffering, not redemption.
The Economist’s narrative, therefore, is one-sided, ahistorical, and divorced from Ethiopia’s complex realities. It divides Ethiopians into “worthy” and “unworthy” victims, echoing a dangerous pattern in Western coverage of African conflicts—where nuance is sacrificed for moral simplicity. Ironically, it is the TPLF, not its opponents, that institutionalized the very notion of ethnic purity the Economist author rails against. That has been the
