Hassan Sheikh’s bizarre letter to Trump

The geopolitical landscape of the Horn of Africa is undergoing a significant shift as the United States reassesses its strategic positioning in the region. At the heart of this development is Somaliland, a self-declared independent state that has operated autonomously since 1991 but remains unrecognised internationally. Amid growing tensions in the Red Sea, the US has shown renewed interest in securing a foothold in this critical maritime corridor. The return of Donald Trump to the presidency has further complicated matters, as his administration signals a potential reconsideration of Somaliland’s status. 

In an official letter sent in mid-March to Donald Trump which was reported by the American news outlet Semafor, the president of Somalia, Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, offered Washington “exclusive operational control” of strategic facilities in the country, including the Berbera and Baledogle Airfield, as well as the ports of Bosaso and Berbera. This move appears to serve a dual purpose: first, to counter increasing signals that Washington may recognise Somaliland, and second, to strengthen Mohamud’s political standing domestically amid mounting challenges to his authority in Mogadishu. 

This development must be viewed within a broader geopolitical context, where political and strategic interests intersect. There are growing indications that the Trump administration—reasserting its influence on the global stage—may move towards recognising Somaliland, a possibility reinforced by regional, international, and domestic factors. The strategic importance of the Gulf of Aden has intensified due to escalating tensions with the Houthis and Iran, especially in light of Israel’s war in Gaza. The US already has a large presence at Camp Lemonnier in Djibouti, where it operates a naval base that it bought from France, but has been signalling an interest in Berbera. Simultaneously, China’s expanding influence in the Horn of Africa has become a strategic concern for Washington, particularly as this expansion mirrors its growing influence in the South China Sea. China opened a naval base in Djibouti, not far from the US one, in 2017. It is Ethiopia’s largest source of foreign direct investment (from zero in 2004 to $3.6bn in 2021), has a “strategic partnership” with Eritrea, and has increasingly shown support for Somalia against Somaliland’s separatist drive due to Hargeisa’s ties with Taiwan.  

Somaliland, which is the second-to-last African state to maintain official relations with Taiwan, has attempted to position itself as a unique partner for the US in countering Chinese influence at a time when the US, according to a Trump official quoted by the Financial Times, was committed to a “total review of our Somalia policy”. This has presented Hargeisa with an opportunity which has heightened its appeal. President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, recognising this shift, has attempted to take measures to roll back Hargeisa’s charm offensive with Trump officials. In late March, Africa Report said that the Somali president was attempting to court Elon Musk, one of Trump’s main backers, by providing Starlink access to the Somali market and had hired new lobbyists.  

Mohamud’s letter to Trump should be seen in this context. Offering the US a permanent presence at key strategic sites forms part of a broader strategy by Mohamud to seal off Somaliland from the White House and position himself as the intermediary for anyone seeking to engage with territories Somalia doesn’t control but retains juridical rule over. His letter explicitly stated that these facilities would “enhance US engagement in the region, ensure military and logistical access, and prevent foreign competitors from establishing a presence in this strategic corridor.” 

Mohamud has been spurred into action as Somaliland has, in recent years, gained traction within the Republican party, beginning with Muse Bihi’s administration in 2020 and more so since Trump’s return to power earlier this year. Recommendations from Project 2025, a right-wing blueprint to overhaul the US government which Trump has publicly distanced himself from but remains influential within his circles, advocates for strategic hedging in the region from the US’s “deteriorating position” in Djibouti. Prior to becoming US secretary of state, Marco Rubio also expressed concern about China’s growing influence in Djibouti too. Republicans have ignored Djibouti’s argument that it seeks to remain neutral in the US’s dispute with China, hosting bases for several countries. Djibouti’s neutrality has also meant it hasn’t permitted the US to carry out attacks against the Houthis just across the narrow Bab el-Mandeb Strait. In fact, Djibouti’s former foreign minister and the current African Union Commission chair, Mahamoud Ali Youssouf, said that he viewed the Houthi attacks on Israeli ships as an act of solidarity with the Palestinians, and his government refused to condemn them. This has earned the ire of Republicans who have adopted a belligerent stance toward Iran, its Houthi ally and China.  

This shift was reflected in a bill introduced by Congressman Scott Perry in December 2024, calling for official recognition of Hargeisa. This potential shift in US policy is supported by multiple factors: Republican dominance in Congress, Trump’s unconventional approach to foreign policy (which does not necessarily prioritise a unified Somalia), Somaliland’s increasing geopolitical significance in countering China and Iran, and its domestic democratic successes—particularly following its recent elections, which were deemed crucial for its political trajectory. However, official recognition remains uncertain.  

In 2023, the US Congress passed a law enhancing its partnership with Somaliland without granting formal recognition. Sponsored by Republican Senator James Risch, this legislation represented a delicate compromise—supporting cooperation with a stable and relatively democratic entity in the Horn of Africa while avoiding direct challenges to Somalia’s sovereignty. This was evident in the law’s revised version, where references to a “security partnership with Somaliland” were removed—a partial victory for advocates of Somalia’s unity, though Hargeisa viewed the law’s passage as a diplomatic success, inching it closer to international recognition. While the Biden administration formally upheld Somalia’s territorial integrity, US institutions like the Pentagon showed practical interest in a presence in Berbera, with several visits by Africom officials to the coastal city on the Gulf of Aden. This reflects internal divergences within the US on a complex issue. 

Anticipating Trump’s victory, the Somali embassy in Washington launched a pre-emptive lobbying campaign. It hired public relations firms in the US and signed a $600,000-per-year contract with the prominent lobbying firm BGR in December 2024. (Ironically, Somalia receives US aid to pay government salaries.) Leading this lobbying effort are figures such as Lester Munson and Scott Eisner, tasked with countering pro-Somaliland legislation in Congress. Meanwhile, Somalia’s new ambassador in Washington, Dahir Abdi, has spearheaded a diplomatic offensive to contain growing support for Somaliland among Republicans and in Congress. In contrast, Somaliland’s diplomacy appears lacklustre—if not entirely absent—despite significant budgets allocated to its foreign ministry. 

Bashir Good, Somaliland’s representative in Washington, recalls a conversation with a congressman who attributed the world’s indifference to Somaliland to its “lack of crises,” a recurring argument that exposes the paradox of international recognition. However, the real question should be directed at Somaliland’s ruling elites: What is the point of spending millions on diplomatic representation that yields no results? Wouldn’t it be more effective to allocate these resources towards think tanks and crafting compelling narratives that influence policymakers, rather than appointing ambassadors to countries that do not recognise Somaliland in the first place? 

Returning to President Mohamud’s recent letter, the most significant development is the international community’s apparent dampening of faith in building a functional state in southern Somalia. Jihadist insurgents continue to gain strength, and the country remains in a constitutional crisis. Within Trump’s foreign policy team, there is growing consensus—at least among some figures—that state-building in Somalia is futile. (So far, Trump has not appointed his Africa policy team, but it is expected to include pro-Somaliland figures like Peter Pham.) The US has already cut aid managed by USAid, while al-Shabaab remains a formidable force, even launching a bombing attempt against President Mohamud in Mogadishu—a rare security breach since the days of President Abdullahi Yusuf (2004-2008). Meanwhile, Somalia’s political fractures have deepened, exacerbated by constitutional amendments orchestrated by Mohamud, effectively securing his re-election through a party system devised by his inner circle. This manoeuvre, opposed by federal states and political elites in Mogadishu, is likely to extend his rule by at least two years—similar to his predecessor Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo. 

As expected, Somaliland swiftly rejected Somalia’s offer to grant Washington control over Berbera’s port and airbase, asserting that Mogadishu has no sovereignty to grant assets within a region that has operated independently since 1991. Somaliland’s foreign minister dismissed the proposal as “desperate” and a pre-emptive attempt to block US recognition of Somaliland’s independence. “The United States knows who it should be dealing with,” he stated. 

A similar process took place a year ago when an agreement was signed with Ethiopia regarding a military base in Lughaya, sparking regional condemnation until it was halted through Turkish mediation. Last month, Abiy Ahmed visited Mogadishu, despite being officially described in the Somali government’s rhetoric as a “historic enemy who must be fought against through jihad.” 

The fundamental problem facing the Somali government is its lack of actual control over these territories. Even the Bossaso port and airbase in Puntland remain outside Mogadishu’s control, as Puntland severed ties with the Somali government in March over constitutional disputes. Yet, Mogadishu continues to claim these areas as part of its sovereign territory. 

Former Trump Africa envoy Peter Pham remarked that “Mogadishu represents a $1 billion annual burden on US taxpayers, yet President Mohamud thinks Americans are foolish enough to accept an offer of Somaliland and Puntland’s ports—despite his lack of control over either.” 

Some observers, such as Cameron Hudson, a senior fellow in the Africa Program at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, have suggested that the Somali government put forward this offer as a means to push the United States to recognise the legitimacy of the Somali state over these territories. 

If this assumption holds true, it is a clear indication of the deadlock facing the Somali project championed by unionist elites. However, in my estimation, Hassan Sheikh is waging this battle primarily to address his internal political struggles, as Somalia is effectively regressing under his leadership. At its core, this move is little more than an attempt to distract local public opinion with the Somaliland issue—a fig leaf concealing the collapse of all agreements reached since 2004 to build a functioning Somali state and the broader impasse that this project has reached. 

On the other hand, we are now witnessing the clear unveiling of what remains of the fig leaf that the international community had wrapped itself in when dealing with Somali affairs. This same community had previously imposed a coercive state-building model in Somalia through military interventions and, in 2013, granted sovereign recognition to the Mogadishu government as the legitimate successor of the post-independence Somali Republic. 

This project later evolved into a system resembling a cottage industry run by a narrow group of experts and opportunistic politicians shuttling between Mogadishu and Nairobi under the guise of constructing a federal governance model, backed by regional forces that are periodically rotated every few years. At its core, however, this process was nothing more than a fragile arrangement to reconcile former warlords, jihadist movement leaders, and local clan politicians.

As this model has gradually collapsed over time due to both internal and external factors, the international community now implicitly acknowledges that the Somali Republic no longer exists in practice.  

What remains is a fragile entity dependent on international donors, African peacekeeping forces and Turkish largesse, which barely exercises control beyond the capital. The Trump administration’s policies serve as a new kind of threat, as it attempts to formalise its engagement with the de facto authorities, sidelining the de jure situation that operates on the assumption that Somalia is a sovereign state, rather than a space where international powers manage threats to their interests. This is a continuation of the security-centric approach that has long defined the international community’s engagement with Somalia—an approach that disregards the political roots of the crisis and deliberately looks away from them. 

Meanwhile, Somaliland remains another example of political deadlock in its own way. Despite more than three decades since its unilateral declaration of restored independence, it has failed to secure formal international recognition—whether through decade-long negotiation efforts or attempts to impose a fait accompli by signing strategic bilateral agreements, such as the recent memorandum of understanding with Ethiopia. Though this step was presented as a breakthrough towards recognition, it ultimately unravelled due to widespread regional opposition. 

I have long held the belief—or wagered—that a shift in the balance of power was inevitable in Somali affairs, whether within Somaliland or Somalia itself, or in the regional and international environment that perpetuates the current stagnation. In light of recent developments, it seems that this wager is approaching a critical test with the Trump administration and the region’s rapidly evolving dynamics.