𝙏𝒊𝙜𝒓𝙖𝙮 𝑾𝙚𝒆𝙠𝒍𝙮 𝘿𝒊𝙜𝒆𝙨𝒕 | July 26 – August 2, 2025

Introduction
General Tsadikan Gebretensae recently granted a widely viewed interview with journalist Tilahun Tafere, marking his most significant public engagement after months of relative silence. In this conversation, he shared reflections on Tigrai’s political landscape, revealed his struggles, and outlined a bold vision for peaceful resistance and renewal. This blog explores his complex journey—military heroism, political trials, and his renewed call to action.

Part I: Political and Military Background in Brief

General Tsadikan Gebretensae has long been a consequential figure in the political and military evolution of Tigrai and Ethiopia at large. His journey traces back to March 1975, when he left Addis Ababa University’s Faculty of Science and joined the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), traveling under a false identity to reach the frontlines. He was placed in the famed Platoon 11, alongside future General Tadesse Worede. The platoon would go on to fight in some of the earliest and most defining battles of the armed struggle, including the fatal 1976 Chea Meskebet confrontation with the Ethiopian Democratic Union (EDU), in which Mussie Tekle lost his life.

Tsadikan’s leadership qualities were quickly recognized. He was elected to the preparatory committee for the TPLF’s first congress and later to its Central Committee. Alongside peers such as Gebru Asrat, and Zerai Asgedom, he was part of the team responsible for shaping the organization’s socio-economic policy direction. By 1983, Tsadikan had been appointed chief administrator of the Eastern Zone—an expansive and strategically vital region that stretched from Agame through Raya into parts of present-day Afar—working in tandem with Hayelom Araya, who served as the zone’s chief military commander.

That region became the epicenter of TPLF’s most decisive campaigns during the 1980s. The pair’s operational synergy made the Eastern Front the most coveted deployment for TPLF fighters, despite the intense logistical hardships. By 1987, as the TPLF launched its strategic offensive, Tsadikan was appointed Deputy Chief Commander, effectively acting as the field commander under Seeye Abraha, who served as head of the military committee and party secretary for military affairs.

In 1991, Tsadikan led the advance of the EPRDF forces into Addis Ababa, culminating in the fall of the Derg regime. He was subsequently appointed Chief of Staff of the Ethiopian National Defense Forces—a position he held for a decade. His tenure focused on transforming the TPLF-dominated rebel force into a national army and reducing Tigrean overrepresentation within the ranks.

However, the outbreak of the 1998 Ethio-Eritrean war found Tsadikan overseeing a national army of only 57,000 soldiers, unprepared for full-scale hostilities. While criticized for initial setbacks in areas like Badme and Tsorona, he was equally lauded for the bold counter-offensives that saw Ethiopian forces penetrate deep into Eritrean territory with remarkable speed and efficiency. Yet the war ended abruptly in mid-2000, halted by then-Prime Minister Meles Zenawi just as Ethiopian forces were advancing to Asmara.

Tsadikan, reportedly disillusioned by the political decisions surrounding the war and secretly accused of aligning with figures like Seeye Abraha, was dismissed from his post in 2001. The rationale for his removal was never officially explained.
After his departure from the military, Tsadikan retreated from public political engagement. He ventured into business and consultancy and played a pivotal role in establishing Raya Brewery alongside other notable Tigrean businessmen.

For 11 years, especially during the Meles Zenawi era, he remained silent on political matters—a silence that many criticized as overly prolonged. It wasn’t until 2016 that he reemerged as a political voice, publishing a widely circulated paper addressing Ethiopia’s deepening political crisis following the controversial 2015 elections. Then, in the turbulent months preceding the 2020 war on Tigrai, Tsadikan made headlines with a bold televised statement: “We will never allow anyone to exterminate the people of Tigrai. Most of those who fought for 17 years are still alive—we will never allow it to happen.”

Part II: Return to the Arena and Current Political Role

True to his words, Tsadikan returned to Mekele a few months before the onset of the war in 2020. Initially, he had to remain on the sidelines as a no-favourite of the TPLF, until just days before Mekele fell to federal forces in November 2020. At that point, he joined the Tigrayan Central Command. Though his precise role remains unclear, he became a visible figurehead, representing the resistance in the media with moral clarity and composed resolve. While General Tadesse Worede may have handled battlefield affairs as a member, to the public’s perception, he served as the unofficial spokesperson, raising morale and defending the resistance’s cause on global platforms.

However, his political positioning during this phase also stirred controversy. He notably argued that leadership changes within the TPLF should not occur mid-conflict—”you cannot change the horse while crossing the river,” he said. Many interpreted this as an ill-timed endorsement of the status quo. Later, he would also dismiss the viability of negotiations when the TDF approached Addis Ababa, claiming the federal government was in disarray and no credible counterpart existed—another stance that, in hindsight, seemed premature.

Yet it was, by and large, Tsadikan who would help broker peace when the war turned against Tigrai. Unlike others who called for continued resistance, he recognized the mounting toll—logistical collapse, drone strikes, and resource exhaustion—and chose to act. Using his international contacts, he helped initiate peace talks that eventually moved from Seychelles to Djibouti and finally to Pretoria. At the Pretoria peace talks, Tsadikan distinguished himself with a strong commitment to ending the war. While some critics argue the agreement made too many concessions, there is no disputing his role as a central, determined negotiator.

His opposition to the initial formation of the Interim Administration, with General Tadesse heading the preparatory committee, was publicly registered in a detailed protest letter—an act consistent with Tsadikan’s intellectual rigor and succinct argumentation. Following a revised arrangement, Tsadikan became Vice President of the Interim Government under President Getachew Reda. Yet his appointment placed him in an ambiguous position: respected by the public but unsupported by any institutional base. He did not lead a party, lacked military command, and was distrusted by key figures in the TPLF establishment. The result was an awkward tenure—marginalized in decision-making while others, particularly General Tadesse, were repeatedly entrusted with major responsibilities.

He submerged himself into a technocratic role, effectively tying his hands within the labyrinth of bureaucracy. While his presence undoubtedly helped popularize democratic values and institutional norms within the Interim Government, the position afforded him little room to exert influence commensurate with his stature. Despite his thinking acumen, he was not situated where his weight could translate into decisive political leverage.

His departure from the Tigrai last February political scene was abrupt and unceremonious. He left for the United States or elsewhere, without public explanation. I always believed that Tsadikan, instead of joining the interim government as one of the heads, he should have instead assumed a more independent leadership role—steering a grassroots reform movement rather than accepting a constrained post within a fractured bureaucracy. The fracture was quite clear in coming anyway, and it could not have been lost on anybody, let alone on Tsadikan.

In this interview, Tsadikan leveled accusations against figures like General Tadesse—condemning them as corrupt, self-serving, and wielding unwarranted power over Tigrai’s political and military affairs. Well, one thing is undeniable. Tsadikan remained within the confines of the Interim Government for a considerable period. Given the scale of these charges, one might have expected him to break ranks sooner and take a more active role in mobilizing opposition. This hesitation underscores a recurring pattern in Tsadikan’s political career: a tendency to become entangled in the status quo, wavering before committing fully to decisive action. His prolonged bureaucratic role, despite clear misgivings about the leadership, suggests that he can be constrained by institutional inertia and personal calculation before ultimately stepping forward.

Tsadikan declares that, alongside General Teklay Ashebir and four Tigrean political parties, he has formed an alliance to galvanize public opposition and calls upon the youth and broader society to reclaim their agency.
His message is urgent: Tigrai stands at the brink of collapse, and failure to act will result in irreversible decline. He supports every form of protest against the current regime and even expressed sympathy for the armed desertions in Afar, arguing that the politicization of the TDF leadership under TPLF command has left many with no option but to defect. He is also heard lending unwavering support to the peaceful mass protest that recently has reached the nadir point in Raya and Southeastern Tigrai. He calls on other parts of Tigrai to emulate the mass protest in Raya and Southeastern Tigrai.

Tsadikan maintains consistency in his advocacy: separation between party and state, the decentralization of power, and bottom-up popular participation. These were ideas he championed even as Vice President, and they are ideas that earned him the ire of the TPLF rank-and-file, who launched coordinated smear campaigns against him on social media. The only difference now is that he no longer harbors any belief in the TPLF’s ability—or willingness—to implement the Pretoria agreement or democratize governance in Tigrai.

One dubious point he raised in this interview is his assertion that most Tigreans do not support independence. This is a difficult claim to validate. In the absence of formal surveys, it is hard to judge public sentiment—particularly when social media and vocal elites often amplify pro-independence sentiment. The truth likely lies somewhere in between, and views may shift over time.

Finally, what is clear is that Tsadikan’s sense of exclusion from Tigrai weighs heavily on him. He laments that he remains sleepless that he is barred from going to Tigrai. Yet I would argue he should return—not because he is permitted—but in defiance of those seeking to keep him out. A man who has risked death on numerous occasions should not, at this stage, be deterred by intimidation. Still, one may understand his caution. Perhaps his decision to remain away stems not from fear but from a conviction that his leadership is still needed—that he must survive to lead Tigrai through this final, unfamiliar phase of its struggle: a peaceful, mass-driven quest for accountability and renewal.
This may well be Tsadikan’s last political campaign—a closing chapter in a tumultuous political and military life. If so, he must tread wisely. This time, there may be no second chance.
I wish him the stamina that such a struggle demands, and the age and health necessary to endure it. But, as he said, it is ultimatley up to the youth to take the torch forward and make the lasting difference.