The dangers of Somalia’s “new constitution”

On 4 March, Somalia’s parliament voted to finalize the country’s long-stalled and controversial constitutional review process. After more than two years of constitutional deadlock, both chambers of parliament endorsed an amended constitutional text, an outcome that the administration of Hassan Sheikh Mohamud described as “overdue.” The president himself characterized the moment as a “historic milestone.” In numerical terms, the mandate appeared robust: 222 legislators voted in favor, including 185 members of the House of the People and 37 senators. In the eyes of the current administration, the vote promises to bring an end to the provisional constitution that has governed Somalia’s federal order since 2012 and to usher in a newly established constitutional framework. Substantively, however, it opens a new and unsettled terrain.

The adoption of the “new constitution” has unfolded amid institutional fracture. Relations between the federal government and key federal member state most notably Puntland and Jubbaland, have deteriorated over the course of the review process. For much of the past two years, Somalia’s political system has operated in a state of procedural paralysis. Multiple rounds of talks, including the most recent convened in Mogadishu, failed to produce agreement. Opposition actors and federal member states maintained a consistent position: no alteration of the provisional constitution without demonstrable, broad-based consensus on both the scope and substance of the revisions.

At the center of the dispute lies an unresolved question, the allocation of power within Somalia’s federal architecture. Mogadishu has advanced a model that consolidates authority under a redefined constitutional framework. Puntland and Jubbaland leaders, by contrast, read these amendments as a contraction of the autonomy envisioned in 2012. Recent federal government actions have intensified this struggle. The current government has made a series of decisions that have irked federal member states, in which the government appeared to be attempting to push its agenda. These actions included blocking Puntland federal MPs from flying to their constituencies, a move the MPs later described as being “held hostage.”

Representatives from Jubbaland rejected the process outright, contending that the current parliament lacks a “legitimate mandate to enact foundational constitutional change.” Puntland MPs from both houses have also rejected the process.

Opposition group, including former presidents and prime ministers under the banner of the Somalia Future Council, have framed the amendments as procedurally deficient and politically exclusionary. Their critique centers on the process: inadequate consultation, disputed thresholds, and the absence of inclusive bargaining. In their view, the vote represents not a collective settlement but a unilateral imposition. In their latest press statement, they made it clear that they will not accept the changes, arguing that they “lack legitimacy” and are largely “motivated by the political interests” of the current administration. They warn that, in the absence of genuine agreement among federal member states and political blocs, the finalized constitution may strain rather than stabilize Somalia’s fragile federal system. Their argument rests on the premise that constitutional authority derives from negotiated consent, particularly in post-conflict polities where institutional cohesion remains precarious.

This moment therefore crystallizes a deeper tension within Somalia’s state-building project. The federal government presents the amendments as progress toward constitutional permanence. Its opponents interpret the same act as a destabilizing move that lack legitimacy and consensus. A constitution, after all, functions not only as a legal instrument but as a political covenant. It delineates power, but it also distributes trust. When key constituencies reject the process that produces it, the text risks becoming an artifact of majoritarian will rather than a shared framework of governance.

Somalia’s 2012 provisional constitutional is explicit in its normative architecture. It defines the state as a “federal, sovereign, and democratic republic founded on inclusive representation of the people, a multiparty system and social justice.” Article 3 further codifies “the fundamental principles of power sharing in a federal system.” These clauses are not ornamental. They articulate a theory of governance: federalism as negotiated equilibrium, not hierarchical command.

Yet the parliamentary session of yesterday complicates that foundation. All 223 legislators present voted in favor of sweeping amendments to Chapters 4 and 15. The Speaker of the house Aadan Mohamed Nur promptly declared the constitution “no longer provisional.”

However, while 186 lower-house members were present, that figure represents roughly 68 percent of the 275-seat chamber. The constitutional threshold requires approval by at least two-thirds of existing members in both houses. Whether the vote satisfied that requirement has become a matter of contention. Opposition lawmakers allege that more than fifty MPs, many aligned with federal member states, were effectively prevented from attending deliberations. They further accuse the executive of using intimidation and inducements to secure passage. Reports of restricted travel and political pressure on dissenting regional representatives reinforce the perception that procedural integrity was compromised. If federalism presupposes participation, exclusion becomes constitutionally consequential.

Article 132 of the provisional constitution sets a deliberately high bar for amendment. It prohibits alteration of foundational principles and mandates a two-thirds majority in both houses for any valid change. It also requires an inclusive mechanism: a joint committee must engage federal member state legislatures and incorporate their harmonized submissions, particularly where state interests are implicated. The logic is clear. Amendments that recalibrate the federal balance cannot be engineered solely from the center. They must be co-produced. By contrast, yesterday’s vote proceeded over the objections of key states, including Puntland and Jubbaland, and without their formal endorsement.

Timing further intensifies the controversy. The current federal parliament’s mandate is set to expire in April 2026, and the presidential term concludes on 15 May under Article 91, which fixes a four-year tenure from inauguration. National elections remain uncertain. The provisional charter envisaged a different trajectory: after the first parliamentary term, a new legislature would establish a review commission to consult federal member states and the public on implementation (Article 137). Instead, the sitting parliament moved preemptively on contested domains — electoral module and executive authority, while its own tenure nears conclusion. The perception, fair or not, is of an outgoing political class reshaping the institutional terrain it will soon exit.

Content matters too. The approved amendments recalibrate Somalia’s governance model by strengthening the presidency and institutionalizing a direct “one person, one vote” electoral system. On its face, this signals democratization and central consolidation. Critics, however, interpret the reforms as concentrating power in the executive and diluting federal counterweights. Under the earlier framework, the president was elected indirectly by parliament, a mechanism that embedded state participation within executive selection. The revised model inverts that logic. Whether this constitutes democratic deepening or executive aggrandizement depends on one’s theory of federal balance. But absent broad-based consensus, even defensible reforms risk appearing factional.

This perception is telling. Article 3(3) of the 2012 charter affirms that the Federal Republic is founded upon power sharing. Article 1(1) promises inclusive representation. Amendment procedures — supermajority requirements, mandatory consultation — were designed to operationalize those commitments. They reflect an understanding that constitutional durability derives from layered agreement.

Regional constitutional texts echo this federal compact. The 2023 constitution of Puntland repeatedly defines the state as a federal member unit within the Federal Republic, premised on mutual agreement. Article 4 goes further, reserving the right to reconsider integration should the federal structure be altered in a manner inconsistent with federal principles. This clause is neither rhetorical nor dormant. Regional authorities have previously invoked it in response to perceived unilateral amendments. Thus, objections to the “new constitution” are grounded not only in political disagreement but in articulated constitutional doctrine at the state level.

Put plainly, regional leaders were justified in demanding procedural fairness. Federalism, by definition, presupposes participation. Yet their stance is not without complication. By remaining largely peripheral to key negotiation phases, several state authorities diminished their leverage and exposed themselves to the charge of strategic abstention. Absence, in constitutional politics, is rarely neutral. It redistributes influence.

That concession, however, does not sanitize the methods employed in Mogadishu. Many Somalis had anticipated that the first permanent constitution would function as an instrument of reconciliation, an opportunity to recalibrate center–periphery relations through structured dialogue. Instead, the allegation that the process was one-sided and procedurally infirm persists with notable force. Even moderate figures within the federal apparatus reportedly resigned in protest, citing concerns that the amendments could weaken the federal balance and entrench a unilateral constitutional order.

The structural anxiety is clear: Somalia’s stability rests on a negotiated federal compact. When constitutional revision appears accelerated in the absence of elections, the legitimacy of that compact comes under strain. It is clear that the country is now edging toward a constitutional vacuum, an interregnum in which mandates are expiring, institutions are being redefined, and electoral timelines remain uncertain.

None of this suggests that Somalia should abandon constitutional consolidation. On the contrary, legal clarity and institutional predictability are indispensable to long-term stabilization. But text alone does not confer durability. Legitimacy is co-produced through consent and credible participation. A vote secured in haste can institutionalize contestation for years.

Key implementation measures — establishing an independent electoral commission, delineating the competencies of revised institutions, and operationalizing universal suffrage — carry profound distributive consequences. Under Article 137 of the provisional framework, a post-election review commission was envisaged precisely to ensure that such steps would unfold under a renewed parliamentary mandate and in consultation with federal member states.

The prudential argument, therefore, is not for paralysis but for calibration. With the current government’s mandate approaching expiration, sweeping structural alterations risk appearing as acts of constitutional entrenchment rather than stewardship. Outgoing administration lacks the political horizon to absorb the long-term effects of foundational change. Finalizing uncontested provisions while deferring divisive questions to a newly elected parliament would have aligned more closely with the transitional roadmap embedded in the 2012 settlement. Instead, core chapters have been concluded under contested authority.

Federalism cannot be sustained through central proclamation alone. It depends on reciprocal recognition, each region perceiving itself not as a subordinate unit but as a constituent partner. Where constitutional change is experienced as imposition, even well-intentioned reform acquires the texture of exclusion. The lesson is neither romantic nor abstract. Durable unity in federations emerges from negotiated accommodation, not accelerated decree.

For both Somali leaders and international stakeholders, the immediate imperative is clear: any constitutional amendment must be grounded in reconciliation and inclusion. Moving forward with a “new constitution” without broad consensus risks creating a constitutional vacuum. If Somalia’s final constitutional chapters are to unite rather than divide, they must be crafted through consent that extends beyond the parliamentary chamber, involving inclusive dialogue and negotiated political settlements with the federal member states. Without such an inclusive approach, the risk of Somalia’s disintegration cannot be ruled out.