The state and the strongman

The Puntland government has finally overcome a challenge it has struggled with since 2010. Its defense force and police took over PSF (Puntland Security Force,) a paramilitary currently backed by the federal government, camps in Galkaio and Bosaso on August 5 and 6, respectively.

Puntland’s decisive victory brings as much hope as fear. On the one hand, it promises greater stability as the state edges closer to monopolizing power. On the other hand, it removes a crucial check-and-balance force in a state that lacks functioning institutions to serve that role. The fears become more poignant as this military victory comes at a time when the parliament is intent on making constitutional amendments that could pave the way for the president to seek a third term.

However, the intent to remove PSF from Puntland’s political scene did not begin with the current administration.

Puntland, as a people and a government, has had a complex relationship with PSF. The public was hesitant to support them at first. Because they were molded by US intelligence, locals dubbed them “Ashahaado la Dirir” — those who fight Islamic creed. However, this attitude has gradually shifted in a positive direction as PSF valiantly defended Puntland against al-Shabaab and other militias on several occasions. They came to be seen as part of Puntland’s defense forces.

The government's relationship with PSF has followed an opposite trajectory. The fragile administration appreciated its creation in 2001, despite its autonomous command. During Abdullahi Yusuf and Adde Muse’s reigns, PSF served as a de facto intelligence agency in the state.

However, the conflicts began in early 2010 when Abdirahman Farole, former Puntland president and current senator, sought to nationalize the agency under the Puntland Intelligence Agency. Farole, however, failed in his attempt, running into two major hurdles. First, the US government, which fully backed the agency, did not want to change the command structure. Second, the agency, supported by its clan base, imposed curfews in Bosaso and risked sparking a civil war.

Farole had to back down. He accepted a settlement, brokered by the Americans and the clan elders, that kept command within the family but transferred leadership from Osman Mohamud Diano, the father, to his son, Asad Osman Mohamud Diano.

Deni’s decisive victory this time reflects less on military prowess and more on PSF’s gradual decline. Since late 2021, the paramilitary has been on life support because of three factors. First, the US government suspended its financial and training support for PSF. The decision came after PSF prioritized its conflict with the administration over the war on terrorism. The Americans were upset that PSF used military arms and personnel intended for the war against terrorism in its fight with the Puntland government.

Second, PSF lost public support, especially among its base clans, due to the conflict with Puntland in Bosaso that year. PSF employed a battle strategy that was tactically beneficial but long-term costly. To produce public pressure on the government, they distributed artillery to the city's neighborhoods. The strategy was successful and stopped the government in its tracks; however, it left a bitter taste in the public's mouth. Many underscored that the paramilitary was deliberately punishing the public to advance its political interests.

Moreover, the public grew increasingly disappointed as the group’s allegiance shifted to the federal government. PSF was short on cash and seeking funding; however, the federal government viewed PSF as an indispensable pressure card against Puntland—and used it as such several times.

Third, Deni’s two-term presidency has taken a significant toll on PSF in two ways. First, because he shares the same clan base, many soldiers who would have joined PSF switched their loyalty to PMPF (Puntland Maritime Police Force), funded by the United Arab Emirates, especially after PSF faced financial difficulties. Second, Deni deprived the PSF of the opportunity to participate in military operations within Puntland. This rendered the paramilitary ineffective and prevented it from receiving urgently needed public support.

Given these preexisting conditions, Deni’s military campaign against PSF was a walk in the park. In addition, two more immediate factors have bolstered public support for the operation. First, PSF and other militias have recently declared their allegiance to the federal government. The government and many in the public have viewed the federal government as arming these militias to undermine Puntland’s stability.

Puntland has already cut ties with the federal government and even withdrawn from the federation. So, any military ties with the federal government are enough of an indictment. Moreover, the public was already fed up with paramilitary militias that undermined law and order within the state, and they have long demanded that the government take action in that regard.

But for Deni, his own political calculations outweigh all these factors. By eliminating PSF and other paramilitary militias, he may achieve two goals. First, he may be able to unilaterally select the members of parliament elected from Puntland. If a paramilitary group allied with the federal government has strongholds in certain regions, it may challenge his ability to determine whom to select for those seats. Deni is well aware of this possibility and is intent on preventing it.

The other goal is to secure Plan B. If Deni is not elected president of the federal government, he may seek a third term in Puntland. The other two branches, the parliament and the supreme court, remain fragile in Puntland and are not strong enough to counterbalance the executive. By and large, the presence of clan militias has kept the power transfer in Puntland smooth, making the man in power think twice before taking such an outreach. But now that the president has eliminated the most influential one and may be on the verge of abolishing the others, he is the state, and the state is he.

In such a case, elders could be the last resort for hope. Yet elders have no teeth without the militias. Those in power heeded the elders because they faced two options: either the elders' blessings or the militias' curse. Without the curse, the blessings would be meaningless.

Nonetheless, the tendency to eliminate potential political rivals is not unique to Deni. It has been a political trend for both federal and member-state leaders to concentrate power within their spheres of control. Whether it is Hassan Sheikh Mohamud of Mogadishu, Ahmed Mohamed Islam of Jubbaland, or Aden Mohamed Madobe of South West, each has been determined to remain in power as long as possible.

This trend harks back to an ominous past. It is the same formula warlords used soon after the state collapsed in 1991. By eliminating challengers one by one, each warlord controlled a swath of land with an iron fist—imposing tolls on properties and, in some cases, even on natural water sources such as rivers.

The international community finally intervened in the early 2000s to end this misery. But now that it is taking a back seat in Somali political affairs, that past may be upon us again.

Besides the international community, Puntland has been a beacon, guiding Somalia from a segmentary warlord system to a consociational federal system. It is rightly regarded as the mother of federalism for its leadership role. It has been a role model in the right direction; it should not be a follower in the wrong one.

Purging paramilitaries is welcome and has been so; however, it should not be used as an excuse to banish political plurality, strangle fair competition, or end the nascent democratic process. While the interests of ruling elites may lead them down that path, the public should not follow.