How foreign intervention destabilised Somalia

Scholars of state failure differ on the criteria they believe characterise a failed state. The classical definition provided by retired American diplomat Gerald B. Helman and State department lawyer Steven Ratner in their Foreign Policy article Saving Failed States says that failed states exhibit the following qualities: civil strife, disruption of governmental services, economic privation, human rights abuses, and refugee outflows. The Fragile States Index is more comprehensive, encompassing factors such as the extent to which a country’s elites are factionalised, the intensity of external intervention in domestic affairs, and the legitimacy of the state. However, across most of these different indices, Somalia consistently stands out as a key example or benchmark of how not to be if one wishes to avoid being considered a failed state. It is “The Most Failed State,” according to one writer for The New Yorker. 

“Journalists would say when a country is falling apart, Somalization of that country,” noted Somalia’s former finance minister, Abdirahman Beileh. Participating in a panel in 2019, Beileh expressed his frustration with the persistent association between “negative things” and Somalia. “I hear mumbles of ‘Somalization’ of Cote D’Ivoire when we were there, and there was an order, they said, Somalization; and I have heard many use that term, but no longer, no longer.” 

This perception has been perpetuated by American academic and intellectual circles over recent decades, as well as by global media. The connection between terrorism and failed states has become a dominant narrative, with Somalia often presented as the epitome of this combination. Ridley Scott’s film Black Hawk Down serves as a cultural reference point that reinforces this view. The movie, centred on the 1992 US intervention in Somalia, played a key role in shaping the American and global imagination of Somalia. It also functioned as a justification for subsequent US military actions, such as the invasion of Afghanistan in 2001. 

This article examines the efficacy of state reconstruction efforts driven by foreign intervention—particularly Western-led initiatives or those involving regional allies of the West. The focus is on the United States, which, following the fall of the Islamic Courts Union, sought to rebuild the Somali state and then shared that responsibility with other actors. However, unlike Afghanistan, it was Ethiopia, not the US, which spearheaded direct military action in Somalia with US financial and logistical support. The mission relied heavily on African Union peacekeeping operations, mandated by the United Nations, to support local forces in combating al-Shabaab. This has had outcomes which have complicated the country’s civil war.  

The initial US intervention in Somalia 

The US military intervention in Somalia began after the fall of Siad Barre’s regime at the hands of armed opposition groups. In December 1992, the United States deployed 25,000 troops under the banner of “Operation Restore Hope,” sanctioned by UN security council resolution 751. The mission aimed to mitigate the humanitarian catastrophe brought on by factional warfare in southern Somalia.  

Foreign involvement expanded with the formation of the second UN mission, which included troops from 24 countries alongside US forces. However, Washington reduced its troop presence to 1,200 by June 1993. The mission ultimately failed due to ongoing factional fighting in Mogadishu, the absence of capable Somali leadership, and the civilian and military casualties caused by US-led military operations targeting Mohamed Farrah Aidid. Then-US President Bill Clinton made an address to the nation as he announced the American withdrawal, expressing his shock at the desecration of the bodies of American soldiers who had been killed in the operation. “Why are we still there? What are we trying to accomplish? How did a humanitarian mission turn violent?” Clinton asked rhetorically. “It is not our job to rebuild Somalia’s society, or even to create a political process that can allow Somalia’s clans to live and work in peace. The Somalis must do that for themselves,” Clinton added.  

This episode compelled American media to produce films and narratives aimed at reshaping public perception of the intervention. By March 1994, US forces had fully withdrawn, followed by UN forces a year later, leaving Somalia embroiled in civil war. The critical error the US made was picking sides in Somalia’s conflict rather than bringing players together and focussing on the extraction of Somalia’s oil resources. In short, it was more about what the US wanted Somalia to be, who it wanted to be there and what it could get out of it, and not what would work ideally for Somalia.  

Another foreign military intervention occurred in 1996, carried out by Ethiopia, limited to the Gedo region in the southwest of Somalia. Its aim was to undermine the Islamic Emirate declared by the al-Ittihad al-Islamiya group. Since it had the support of tribal militias, Addis Ababa did not seek to establish a new authority in the country but instead focused on strengthening its warlord allies to counter the Islamist group. 

The bombings of the US embassies in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam in August 1998 drew Washington’s attention back to East Africa, particularly Somalia. The country had become a refuge for members of al-Qaida, who were accused by the US of planning the attacks. These figures included the Kenyan-Somali Saleh Nabhan, Abu Talha al-Sudani, and Fazul Abdullah Mohammed (Fazul Mohammed) from the Comoros, along with other Arab, East African, and Somali operatives. 

This focus intensified during the Bush administration, as US national security considerations and the emergence of the “Bush Doctrine” emphasised the so-called Global War on Terror following the September 11 attacks. This reinforced the idea that failed states posed a threat to US national security and international peace. 

Washington entrusted the Somalia file to the CIA, which developed a limited set of objectives targeting al-QaIda-linked foreign operatives in the country. The CIA collaborated with warlords, providing them with money and weapons. This partnership formed what became known as the ‘Alliance for the Restoration of Peace and Counter-Terrorism’ (ARPCT). As many had anticipated, the behaviour of the US-backed warlords was characterised by open militia violence, starkly contrasting with the democratic ideals President George W. Bush elaborated on in his 2005 inaugural address, where he declared that the US sought to support the growth of democratic movements and institutions in every nation and culture. 

As many had anticipated, the behaviour of the US-backed warlords was characterised by open militia violence, starkly contrasting with the democratic ideals President George W. Bush elaborated on in his 2005 inaugural address 

Ethiopia’s intervention  

The violent actions of US-backed warlords spurred the rise of the Islamic Courts Union (ICU), which sought to restore order and curb the warlords’ abuses. The ICU swiftly improved Somalia’s security and living conditions. However, Washington viewed the ICU as a jihadist threat emanating from the Horn of Africa. In alignment with its 2006 National Security Strategy, which identified failed states as safe havens for terrorists, the US supported Ethiopia’s military intervention in Somalia, claiming it aimed to neutralise the Islamic threat. Ethiopia deployed 50,000 troops, with US intelligence and special forces providing assistance. 

In their book Inside Al-Shabaab: The Secret History of al-Qaeda’s Most Powerful Ally, Harun Maruf and Dan Joseph argue that the brutality of US-backed warlords contributed to the rise of the faction most closely aligned with al-Qaida: the Salahuddin Camp group, led by Ahmed Abdi Godane. Godane, who became the second emir and the de facto founder of Harakat al-Shabaab al-Mujahideen (better known simply as al-Shabaab), built a formidable force that targeted warlords and played a key role in their defeat. 

A similar effect occurred on a larger scale following Ethiopia’s invasion of Somalia. The Islamic Courts Union (ICU) initially consisted of small militias focused on implementing what they termed “Islamic law” and providing social services in the areas under their control. They were funded and supported by local businessmen, which enabled them to purchase arms to confront the warlords. Al-Shabaab capitalized on Ethiopia’s invasion and its brutal abuses against civilians, adopting rhetoric centered on resistance. The group also leveraged anti-foreign intervention sentiments, transforming from a small, organized faction into the dominant force within the Islamic opposition.  

In 2007, the first Somali government president was inaugurated in Mogadishu, supported by Ethiopian and American forces. However, this government was unable to stand on its own against Islamist factions. The emergence of Harakat al-Shabaab al-Mujahideen was unsurprising. Extremist factions and military brigades within the ICU’s armed wing found a narrative to mobilise the public against foreign presence. The US intervention from 2001 to 2006, “especially its support to unsavoury warlords, and the Ethiopian armed intervention of late 2006 to January 2009, were events that allowed this movement to take root in Somali society, despite its initially having been rejected and its continuing unpopularity among the majority of the population,” wrote Roland Marchal, a French expert on Africa. This phase saw an influx of foreign fighters from around the world who joined the cause of “defending Muslim lands.” 

Institutionalising foreign presence 

The new government in Mogadishu struggled to survive without external support. By 2009, Ethiopia withdrew, and Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, a former ICU leader, became president. The African Union Mission in Somalia (Amisom) was established in 2007 to bolster the Somali government against militant groups. Comprising troops from Uganda, Burundi, Djibouti, and later, Ethiopia and Kenya, Somalia’s neighbouring countries joined the mission. Both countries have long-standing historical border disputes with Somalia and have played a significant role in the country’s internal conflict. Amisom’s mandate included reducing al-Shabaab’s threat and gradually transferring security responsibilities to Somali forces. However, even after 18 years, these goals remain unfulfilled. “Anyone who knows the Horn of Africa and its history has never laboured under the illusion that Ethiopia of all places could bring peace to Somalia”, wrote former Somali health minister and cardiologist, Mohamed Aden Sheikh in his memoir Back to Mogadishu. 

At the beginning of 2022, the African Union Mission in Somalia (Amisom) was replaced by the African Union Transition Mission in Somalia (Atmis), comprising military forces from Ethiopia, Kenya, Djibouti, Burundi, and Uganda. It is expected to be succeeded by the upcoming African Union support and stabilization mission in Somalia (Aussom). in the coming days, which will consist of forces from Egypt, Ethiopia, Kenya, Djibouti, and Uganda, excluding Burundi. Ethiopia and Kenya hold a unique status in this context, as both countries intervened militarily in Somalia without authorisation or a formal request from the Somali federal government. Initially, they supported local allies against al-Shabaab before formally joining Amisom. 

In 2011, Kenya launched a military operation in southern Somalia, driving al-Shabaab out of Kismayo and backing its ally Ahmed Madobe as the state’s leader. Kenya also seized the opportunity to carve out Jubbaland state along its border, creating a new political entity despite opposition from Villa Somalia. The British political and cultural magazine, the New Statesman, published a story accusing Addis Ababa and Nairobi of helping to “dismember Somalia”.  

Meanwhile, Ethiopian forces formally joined Amisom in 2014. Eighteen years after the mission’s inception, its accomplishments remain limited. While Somalia’s weak federal government has been stabilised in Mogadishu and gained international recognition in 2012, the Western-funded African Union mission has failed to decisively defeat al-Shabaab. It has become the longest peacekeeping mission on the continent, turning Somalia into a militarised zone and a hotspot for competing regional interests and private security firms. 

The Somali National Army appears unprepared to take over security responsibilities from the African Union mission. Amisom has neither made significant progress in achieving its military and security goals nor has the UN's integrated mission in Somalia succeeded in fostering reconciliation and peace. American academic Paul D Williams, in an interview with Geeska, highlights the achievements and failures of the mission. He credits Amisom with reasonable security successes, such as expelling al-Shabaab from Mogadishu and major cities, but also notes allegations of widespread human rights violations against its personnel. He argues that local politicians bear some responsibility for the mission’s failures, as their complacency and constant feuding has meant political capital has been wasted. Additionally, contributing nations have used their involvement to further their own agendas, especially Ethiopia and Kenya, whose relationships with Mogadishu have been historically strained.  

The Somali National Army appears unprepared to take over security responsibilities from the African Union mission. Amisom has neither made significant progress in achieving its military and security goals nor has the UN's integrated mission in Somalia succeeded in fostering reconciliation and peace. 

The US military presence in Somalia is shrouded in secrecy. Investigative journalist Jeremy Scahill revealed that the US operated secret bases and prisons in Somalia, though the official presence was limited to 800 soldiers, which was withdrawn at the end of President Donald Trump’s term. Despite the withdrawal, US operations targeting al-Shabaab and ISIS continued through drone strikes which we’ve seen re-start. Under President Biden, American troops returned to Somalia as part of an executive order to redeploy hundreds of soldiers in support of the US-trained Somali Special Forces unit Danab. Washington also signed a memorandum with Mogadishu to establish five military bases for the unit. 

The American approach to Somalia remains narrowly focused on counterterrorism and aid. At times, the US has also attempted to guide Somalia’s state-building process as part of a broader strategy to alter the conditions from which al-Shabaab and other armed non-state actors draw strength. This is based on the assumption that it is state weakness, rather than foreign intervention, which is fuelling the country’s insurgency. The preferred approach to state-building has been the development of democratic institutions, which it is hoped will produce a sustainable peace between Somalia’s elite and subsequently resolve the country’s intractable conflict. However, new research shows that liberal state-building efforts focused on guiding the development of democratic institutions are flawed and fail to produce the desired outcomes. In fact, Aidan Hehir, an international relations scholar, argues that these assumptions are “exaggerated if not wholly inaccurate.” 

The enduring jihadist phenomena  

Some analyses suggest parallels between the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul and the potential resurgence of jihadist groups elsewhere, particularly in Somalia. The United States’ shifting priorities—from counterterrorism in the early 21st century to focusing on China and Russia—have downgraded terrorism’s significance in the 2022 US National Security Strategy. Washington has transitioned from leading the so-called Global War on Terror to supporting regional leadership in combating it. The former US president, Joe Biden, called this new strategy “over the horizon,” where the US would strike its targets from safe distances or rely on skilled personnel to carry out an operation and then return.  

Jihadist threats remain prominent in parts of Somalia, such as Puntland, where ISIS has bolstered its presence following defeats in Syria and Iraq, compounding the challenges faced by the Somali state. US Government efforts against al-Shabaab have waned amid political disputes with Jubaland and Puntland, as well as controversial constitutional amendments that threaten the federal system. These conflicts have provided al-Shabaab with opportunities to regroup and intensify recruitment efforts, possibly aided by connections with Yemen’s Houthi movement. 

Al-Shabaab and similar movements view the Taliban and Hay'at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) as role models for patient, long-term jihad. However, the prospect of al-Shabaab taking over Somalia outright remains unlikely due to the differing nature and structure of the three movements, both militarily and ideologically, particularly because of al-Shabaab’s internal divisions—between Somali nationalists focused on domestic issues and global jihadists—and its limited popular support after nearly two decades of targeting civilians. 

The Somali forces suffer from a plurality of military doctrines, with many countries providing training for these forces, including Turkey, the United States, the UAE, Uganda, Egypt, and Eritrea. Additionally, they lack sustainable funding, with several countries and international organisations paying the soldiers' salaries. Moreover, there is a lack of unified operational concepts, discipline, and competition among military units. Somalia’s partners have been generous and patient in their support for its efforts to build an army, but many have given the man fish rather than taught him how to fish. Somalia isn’t being shown how to generate its own army. The foreign presence also remains a powerful recruiting sergeant for groups like IS-Somalia and al-Shabaab. 

Al-Shabaab and similar movements view the Taliban and Hay'at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) as role models for patient, long-term jihad. However, the prospect of al-Shabaab taking over Somalia outright remains unlikely due to the differing nature and structure of the three movements 

The struggles of state-building  

After more than two decades of international state-building efforts, Somalia remains burdened by clan-based politics that undermine national cohesion. Since the 2000 Arta Conference, which laid the foundation for Somalia’s federal government, the clan-based system has become a major obstacle to state-building. While the Somali clan structure is not solely to blame, the political class has also failed to rise above these divisions. Ultimately, the question remains whether a unified state is achievable in Somalia, a country that lacks a shared political history despite common cultural, linguistic, and ethnic ties. External interventions and narrow, security-focused approaches have failed to assist in the creation of a sustainable state in Somalia after 18 years of effort. 

The number of players in Somalia’s political scene has now also increased, including the UAE, Taiwan. Egypt, China, and Turkey, some of whom work at cross purposes or have rivalries that play out in Somali politics. Somalia has become “a fractured country where multiple national factions and entities pursue conflicting political agendas, inviting foreign actors to further their own influence and advance their political positions,” writes Mahamad Hersi, calling it “Africa’s Lebanon”.  

This raises important questions not just about the impact this has on reconciliation efforts, as the political class draws legitimacy from outside, but also about whose interests these politicians are serving. The lack of transparency surrounding the Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s shady security and energy deals with Turkey, are signs that something isn’t quite right with the agreements. Puntland similarly works closely with Abu Dhabi and views the federal government as a hostile actor—a position Garowe has been able to adopt strongly due to its ability to draw in Ethiopia and the UAE as economic and security partners.