In the Horn of Africa, across Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, and Sudan, the region is buffeted by economic shocks, political turbulence, and the ever-present specter of conflict. As old alliances crumble and new power dynamics emerge, it is tempting to look to the past for guidance—particularly to the era when Old Left Parties (OLPs), inspired by Marxism-Leninism and Maoism, once promised liberation, equality, and social justice. Yet, as the world and the Horn have learned, the legacy of the OLPs is deeply mixed, and their failures offer cautionary lessons for today’s leaders and citizens.

In the twentieth century, leftist parties and movements swept across continents. From the Soviet Union to China, from Cuba to Ethiopia, the promise of socialism galvanized millions. The OLPs built states with grand ambitions: land reform, universal education, public health, and the eradication of feudal privilege. For a time, these efforts bore fruit. In Ethiopia, for example, the Derg regime’s land reforms broke the back of the landlord class, and similar stories played out across the region.

But the seeds of the OLPs’ decline were sown early. As the world economy globalized and financialized, the rigid structures and secretive operations of these parties became increasingly out of step with a rapidly changing, interconnected world. The “democratic centralism” that once enabled decisive action soon stifled debate, creativity, and accountability. Dissent was suppressed, and loyalty was prized above competence or integrity. In the Soviet Union, millions perished under Stalin’s purges; in Ethiopia, the Red Terror left deep scars that are still felt today.

The current situation in the Horn is a sobering reminder that the old left’s structural flaws are not just relics of the past. Across the region, state institutions remain inaccessible to ordinary citizens. Decision-making is often opaque, and public grievances are ignored unless they erupt into crisis. The result? Manipulation, patronage, and the rise of power brokers who operate more like mafias than servants of the people. In countries where the state still dominates land, finance, and the entire apparatus of governance, joining the ruling party can feel like winning the lottery—further entrenching a culture of opportunism and mediocrity.

At the heart of the OLP’s failure was a fundamental contradiction: the promise of egalitarianism was undermined by the reality of centralization and secrecy. “Democratic centralism,” as Lenin described it, meant freedom of discussion—but only until a decision was made. After that, unity of action was enforced, often ruthlessly. Over time, this bred a culture where questioning authority was seen as betrayal, and blind loyalty became the highest virtue.

This dynamic is not unique to the left. As Wallerstein and other scholars have noted, the “deep state” tendencies of OLPs find echoes in the bureaucracies of Western democracies, where entrenched interests can subvert genuine democratic accountability. In the Horn, this has meant that justice is too often dispensed as a privilege for the favored, not a right for all.

In moments of crisis, there is always a temptation to revert to top-down, authoritarian solutions. The Horn of Africa is no exception. Faced with ethnic fragmentation, economic hardship, and external pressures, leaders may be drawn to the old model: centralize power, suppress dissent, and promise stability in exchange for freedom. But history has shown that this path leads to stagnation, corruption, and, eventually, collapse.

What, then, is the way forward for the Horn of Africa? First, there must be a reckoning with the past. The legacy of the OLPs—both their achievements and their failures—must be studied honestly, without nostalgia or denial. Second, today’s leaders must resist the urge to centralize power and silence dissent. Instead, they should build institutions that are transparent, accountable, and responsive to the needs of all citizens.

Loyalty, while important, must never trump competence or integrity. The region needs leaders who are not afraid to question, innovate, and adapt—who see opposition not as a threat, but as a vital part of a healthy political ecosystem. Above all, the Horn must move beyond the politics of exclusion and embrace a new pluralism that values diversity of thought and experience.

The old left parties once promised a new world, and for a time, they delivered hope and progress. But their structural flaws—centralization, secrecy, and the elevation of loyalty over merit—ultimately led to their downfall. As the Horn of Africa faces its own crossroads, it must learn from these lessons. Only by building open, accountable, and inclusive institutions can the region hope to escape the cycles of authoritarianism and stagnation that have plagued it for so long.

The future of the Horn depends not on recycling the failed formulas of the past, but on forging a new path—one that honors the ideals of justice and equality, while embracing the realities of a complex, interconnected world. The time for political renewal is now.

Bad peace or no state at all? What this NATO-torn state is facing years after its leader’s murder

By Mustafa Fetouri

Libya has endured a collapse unmatched in modern North Africa since the United Nations Security Council passed Resolution 1973 in March 2011 – endorsing international intervention during the uprising against Muammar Gaddafi. Fourteen years on, the country remains fractured, chaotic, and stuck in an open-ended ‘transitional period’ that never seems to end. NATO’s seven-month, round-the-clock bombardment of the country, under the pretext of protecting civilians, left Libya in tatters.

So far, the UN has dispatched ten special envoys, passed 44 resolutions, convened multiple peace conferences, and spent hundreds of millions of dollars. All UNSC resolutions adopted under the UN Charter’s Chapter VII, which makes them binding to member states, have not, however, been implemented effectively on the ground. Libya remains a cautionary tale: Two rival governments, a patchwork of militias, foreign interference at every level, and no real path to a functioning, unified state.

Despite repeated pledges to guide the country toward elections for a parliament, president, and unified government, every major initiative has failed since the last elections in 2014. The UN Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL) now stands accused of not resolving the crisis – but managing it instead. Critics argue that the mission has become a diplomatic holding pattern, one that accommodates obstructionists instead of sidelining them.

Tripoli on fire again

Nothing illustrates the UN’s ongoing failure better as the recent eruption of violence in Tripoli. On May 12, two powerful government-loyal militias clashed in a two-day battle that left over 100 civilian casualties and at least eight deaths. Burned-out cars and rubble littered the streets of the capital.

It was triggered by the assassination of Abdel Ghani al-Kikli, known as ‘Gheniwa’, at the hands of the rival 444 Brigade. Gheniwa, who led the Stability Support Apparatus (SSA), was ambushed during what was supposed to be a mediation meeting.

Both the SSA and 444 Brigade were created by former Prime Minister Fayez el-Sarraj by separate decrees. The SSA’s tasks included protecting government buildings, providing personal protection to government officials, and controlling public discontent. The 444 Brigade was intended to be more of a disciplined combat-army unit headed by Colonel Mahmoud Hamza – a professional military officer. It originated as a small unit within a larger militia known as the Special Deterrence Force.

Gheniwa, however, was more than just a militia commander: He had practically been running a parallel state, extending his influence across Libya’s security apparatus, central bank, foreign ministry, and southern Tripoli’s governance.

The UN condemned the fighting, as it always does, and called for calm, but had little else to offer. The mayhem underscored what many Libyans already knew: Tripoli is not safer without Gheniwa and the state does not control the armed militias.

This has been the case since NATO’s 2011 intervention which, effectively, paralyzed the Libyan state, and now the UN has lost its grip on the peace process.

Ten envoys, zero breakthroughs

From Abdel Elah al-Khatib in 2011 to Abdoulaye Bathily in 2024, every UN envoy has exited the Libyan stage with their mission unfulfilled.

Some made bold moves. Bernardino Leon brokered the 2015 Skhirat Agreement, which became a de facto constitution in a country that still does not have one. The agreement is the official UN-sanctioned frame of reference for every political effort the UNSMIL attempts. Ghassan Salame, who took over five years after Leon, led the 2020 Berlin Process, further strengthening Leon’s work and delivering the road map that led to the formation of the current Government of National Unity (GNU) still in office today.

But each road map eventually hit a dead end: Local actors resisted compromise, foreign players pushed their own agendas, and the interim authorities hoarded power.

Bathily, a Senegalese diplomat, abruptly resigned in April 2024 after a proposal by the High Steering Committee to agree on a road map for the country was rejected by almost all rival groups and political entities in the country, including the House of Representatives in Tobruk and the High State Council (HSC) in Tripoli. His resignation letter was scathing, citing “a lack of political will and good faith” among Libyan leaders and warning that foreign interference had turned Libya into a “playground for fierce rivalry among regional and international actors.”

His exit left the UN with a credibility problem.

Who will gather all actors in one room?

Now the UN is turning to Ghanaian diplomat Hannah Tetteh – the former head of the UN Office to the African Union – in what some see as a pivot toward African-led legitimacy. Critics of past efforts have long argued that Libya’s future should not be steered solely by European or Gulf powers.

Tetteh faces daunting odds. Before her appointment, acting UN envoy Stephanie Koury laid some groundwork by establishing a 20-member Libyan Advisory Committee. On May 20, the committee delivered a report outlining four possible political paths: 1) hold both legislative and presidential elections, then proceed to a constitutional referendum; 2) begin with legislative elections, followed by a referendum to adopt a permanent constitution, then presidential elections; 3) reverse the process: Adopt a constitution first, then hold elections; 4) reset entirely, launching a new national dialogue and road map through consensus.

Any of these tracks requires buy-in from what Libyan observers call ‘the Five Devils’ – the key domestic spoilers: Aguila Saleh, speaker of the House of Representatives in Tobruk; Khaled al-Mishri, the head of the HSC in Tripoli; Field Marshal Khalifa Haftar and his forces in the east; Prime Minister Abdul Hamid Dbeibah and the Government of National Unity; the three-member Presidential Council in Tripoli.

Bathily tried to convene these actors in one room. It never happened. And that failure, more than any policy misstep, sealed his fate.

The international community often calls these actors ‘stakeholders’. In truth, they are gatekeepers of chaos. Elections threaten their entrenched power and access to state wealth. The longer the delay, the more they benefit.

Many of these factions now function as proxies for foreign powers. Egypt, Turkey, France, Russia, the US, and to a lesser extent, Qatar, all back different sides. Their interests rarely align with the democratic aspirations of ordinary Libyans.

Domestic leaders, meanwhile, speak the language of peace in public while obstructing it behind closed doors. Dbeibah’s GNU has publicly welcomed elections – while allegedly using state funds to sponsor rallies, suppress dissent, fund nominally allied militias, and sabotage electoral logistics.

Last month, the Tobruk based parliament invited 14 men to present their manifestos to become the new prime minister of the unified government in Libya. But the chamber appears hesitant, fearing that the new government will not be recognized by the UN, as it will not be able to peacefully dislodge Dbeibah’s GNU from the center of power in the capital, Tripoli.

This scenario is likely to lead to violence in Tripoli and perhaps other parts of the divided country. The UNSMIL has not commented on the parliamentary discussions yet, but behind the scenes, it does not support this step, fearing the consequences and potential destabilizing effects.

From mediator to manager

Critics argue that the UN mission has shifted from seeking resolution to managing stagnation. The mantra of a ‘Libyan-led solution’ has become, in effect, an excuse for inaction. By refusing to confront spoilers head-on, the mission risks legitimizing the very elites blocking progress.

One Libyan analyst, speaking anonymously, described the UNSMIL as “a concierge service for the crisis” – hosting endless forums and communiques, while average citizens endure poverty, sky-high cost of living, inflation, and collapsing services. Basic institutions – a unified military, functioning judiciary, and national budget – remain aspirational.

And then, like clockwork, violence erupts in Tripoli.

A test for the UN

If Tetteh’s mission stalls like the rest, what is the UN’s plan B? There is no formal fallback, but diplomats are quietly discussing three controversial options:

1. Chapter VII-style international trusteeship – effectively returning Libya to partial international oversight. In reality, this option means placing the country, indefinitely, under UN trusteeship, with some kind of general governor appointed by it – practically ending the independence and sovereignty of Libya.
2. Aggressive sanctions on spoilers: Asset freezes, travel bans, and naming-and-shaming campaigns. The UNSC, through the sanctions committee, knows the obstructers, both state and non-state actors, but never really empowered its resolutions to implement any effective punitive measures against them.
3. A Bosnia-style power-sharing arrangement modeled on the Dayton Accords, which divided up the country into little quarreling cantons under a weak three-member presidency that hardly agrees on anything. This would entrench divisions but create a framework for gradual state-building.

The Bosnia option remains deeply divisive. But as one Tripoli-based European diplomat speaking on condition of anonymity put it, “Better a bad peace than no state at all.”

Libya is no longer just a post-Arab Spring tragedy – it is a credibility test for multilateral diplomacy. Fourteen years of broken deadlines, shelved blueprints, and failed elections have disillusioned not only Libyans but the international community.

Hannah Tetteh’s task is to do what nine others could not: Disrupt elite collusion, overcome foreign manipulation, and make elections more than just lines in a Geneva communique.

Her success or failure will shape not just Libya’s future – but the legacy of the UN’s longest-running post-conflict mission since Iraq.