Somalia’s regression

To say that Somalia is in crisis is something of an evergreen statement these days—and one that probably won’t raise many eyebrows. Remarks about the irresponsible quality of its leadership are equally pedestrian and thoroughly ubiquitous. After all, the country's most celebrated author—and one of its more insightful interpreters—Nuruddin Farah, once likened it in his novel Links to “a ship caught in a great storm without the guiding hand of a wise captain”. But there have been moments that have cast an especially unflattering spotlight on these very issues. 
 
You’ll all remember the plea in the summer of 2009, when Somalia’s parliamentary speaker, Aden Mohamed Nur, appealed to the international community to send soldiers “within 24 hours” as al-Shabaab fighters surged through the capital, Mogadishu. You’ll also recall when an electoral deadlock between Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo on one side, and opposition politicians and federal state leaders on the other, led to an outbreak of violence in Mogadishu in 2021. Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s visit to Cairo last year was another low point. Seeking an ally against Ethiopia after its agreement to a memorandum of understanding with Somaliland, Somalia’s president found Egypt’s leader, Abdelfattah al-Sisi, using Somalia as a cautionary tale—warning his own citizens of what might happen if they didn’t obey him. 

 
 Last week, Fiqi made the extraordinary claim that Sivuyile Thandikhaya Bam, the acting head of the African Union’s peacekeeping mission, harboured sympathies for al-Shabaab, citing diplomatic statements he allegedly made at the UN security council that the militant group had abandoned elements of its ideology and was ready for governance. 

 
Now the country—which has been in perpetual crisis since 1991—faces yet another acute test, as several mounting challenges converge at a critical moment. Two of Somalia’s most important federal states—Puntland and Jubaland—have boycotted the president’s electoral process sapping it of legitimacy, while he celebrates the start of voter registration. Meanwhile, al-Shabaab has been steadily making gains in the Middle Shabelle region, even capturing the strategic town of Aadan Yabaal, a forward operating base for the Somali army and the president’s hometown. Last week, Somalis woke up to the spectre of al-Shabaab fighters posting images of themselves in the town centre, along with footage of them walking through a military base. Some corners of Somali Twitter have been abuzz with speculation over whether the capital might fall to al-Shabaab. The Third Republic isn’t well, and prominent intellectuals like Afyare Elmi, a professor at Mogadishu City University, are now asking whether it can be “saved”. 
 
The country’s foreign minister, Ahmed Moallim Fiqi, has had to deploy deflection tactics in full swing to ensure responsibility for the situation isn’t directed at the president’s complete mishandling of events. Last week, Fiqi made the extraordinary claim that Sivuyile Thandikhaya Bam, the acting head of the African Union’s peacekeeping mission, harboured sympathies for al-Shabaab, citing diplomatic statements he allegedly made at the UN security council that the militant group had abandoned elements of its ideology and was ready for governance. Quo vadis Somalia?  
 
 

 
The country appears to be entering a new phase—one triggered by a serious political and security setback that threatens to erode the fragile gains made through the externally driven state-building project. The HSM administration’s unwillingness to take responsibility and change tack is exacerbating an already dangerous situation. 
 
Nationalism and sovereignty-ism have become the president’s last refuge. Mogadishu’s official rhetoric now frequently invokes security and sovereignty concerns in response to criticisms of its poor policies, deflecting the causes of its crisis onto external factors. Somalia, meanwhile, is increasingly fragmented, polarised, and vulnerable. And with a new Trump administration that loathes these types of expensive and open-ended foreign military engagements, US support for Somalia appears to hang ever more precariously on the whims of the American president. 
 
Hassan Sheikh Mohamud has been seeking ways to entice Trump, employing a tactic seen elsewhere in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Ukraine. The leaders of both countries are desperate for US security support as the DRC battles the Rwanda-backed M23 group and Ukraine struggles to hold back Russia’s advancing invasion. They have offered the US privileged access to their critical minerals and metals resources in a bid to secure Trump’s backing, promising riches for his corporations. Dahir Hassan, the Somali ambassador to Washington, put the “For Sale” tag on Somalia’s energy resources with the same goal in mind in a social media post. He made the announcement after prime minister Hamza Barre visited Las Anod and declared SSC-Khaatumo a member state of Somalia’s federal system. The venue of the announcement was immediately criticised by Abdillahi Hashi Abib, a Somali MP and anti-corruption campaigner, who warned that energy deals require “structured diplomacy and formal dialogue,” not social media posts, criticising the president for choosing to “prioritise loyalty over experience” in his appointment of Hassan. He didn’t address the deeper issue, though, which goes to the heart of Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s short-termism and reckless political style.

Somaliland has been making inroads in Washington since Trump became president again and is attempting to position itself as one of the US’s principal political and security partners in the Red Sea region. Hargeisa has been aiming to host a US military base at Berbera, with the hope of obtaining diplomatic recognition in exchange. Villa Somalia has been pushing back against these efforts with its own lobbying campaign, and the decision to pull SSC-Khaatumo into the federal system is part of that. So is the attempt to draw US companies into energy exploration deals. This strategy papers over a dormant conflict and reflects the current administration in Villa Somalia’s inability to act constructively and invest in resolving political issues. Following the episode, Somaliland announced it was cutting off dialogue with Mogadishu, closing a vital channel for discussions.  

These challenges have been compounded by funding questions around the AU’s peacekeeping mission’s future and Trump’s damaging decision to cut USAid programs in such an abrupt manner. According to the New York Times, the US is even considering cuts to its diplomatic presence in Mogadishu, which could signal the beginning of a broader withdrawal of support and coordination.  

These are, unfortunately, not own-goals that Somalia can afford, as its failures are al-Shabaab’s gains, notwithstanding the broader cost to a war-weary public which needs to be prepared for the potentially devastating impact of climate change. Close to 65% of the country’s population relies on livestock and agriculture, and recurrent droughts, followed by extreme floods, are becoming more common. “The result is 3.9 million people becoming displaced, seeking food, water, and safety in overcrowded displacement camps far away from their homes”, noted a recent report by the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.  

Hassan Sheikh Mohamud cannot control these issues, as they are global problems that require coordination at that level. However, he was elected with a realistic mandate to at least curb the influence of al-Shabaab (He in fact claimed repeatedly that he would defeat them). His tenure, however, has been a major boost for the organisation, which is now imitating Hayat Tahrir al-Sham and attempting to pretend itself as a normal government-in-waiting.

Al-Shabaab has released Somali army prisoners, organised public Ramadan prayers, and, according to Africa Intelligence, even raised the Somali flag in some areas. These moves seem aimed at recasting the group as a political actor—perhaps even a negotiable force—despite no indication of a definitive break from al-Qaida.

This shift appears less a strategic transformation and more a calculated bid to infiltrate the political scene, taking advantage of the federal government’s disarray. In regions like Hirshabelle, this process of normalisation is already being tested. While President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud has expressed openness to negotiation, he maintains that any talks must begin with al-Shabaab severing ties with al-Qaida—an unlikely prospect given the group’s ideological and operational loyalties.

In any case, the war continues. The capital witnessed a major escalation with the assassination of Colonel Nuur Mohamed Gaabow, commander of the 14th Brigade in Lower Shabelle, on 5 April, at the hands of one of his own soldiers. Trained in Italy and Uganda, Gaabow was a central figure in the fight against al-Shabaab. The president himself has since narrowly avoided an al-Shabaab attack that nearly hit his convoy. On the day that Abiy Ahmed was visiting Mogadishu, there were mortar attacks in the capital. And then, finally, the most ominous of signs: US embassy staff were told to relocate due to security risks to their personnel.  

Altogether, Somalia now teeters on the edge of a dangerous turning point. A divided political landscape, a hollowed-out security sector, waning international support, and an emboldened militant group thriving in the vacuum—this is the grim reality. The question is no longer whether Somalia is backsliding—it clearly is, and in a terrifying fashion that we can call the Somalia iteration of eternal return.