Unconfirmed Reports: PSF Remnants Allegedly Seeking New Bases in SSC Territory

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is a developing story based on unconfirmed reports. Independent verification is still pending.

If these reports prove accurate, they would signal that remnants of the PSF are attempting to regroup rather than disband by relocating their operational bases in Bosaso and Qarho into SSC-controlled territory. Such a move would raise serious questions about the group’s intentions and whether the recent security operations in Puntland have merely dispersed, rather than dismantled, the organization.

Any attempt to establish armed bases outside Puntland’s constitutional security framework risks expanding instability beyond its original theatre and complicating an already fragile political and security landscape.

The critical question is no longer whether the recent confrontation has ended, but whether it is entering a new phase.

WDM will continue to monitor developments and update readers as independently verified information becomes available.

A WDM Editorial

Disarm the Clan Militias. End Political Violence. Restore the Rule of Law.

A state cannot coexist with private armies.
It is as simple as that.
Every time a political disagreement in Puntland is settled with armed mobilization instead of constitutional process, the state loses a little more of its authority. Every revenge killing carried out in the name of clan honour, every politically sponsored militia, and every illegal gunman patrolling our towns chips away at nearly three decades of institution-building.
Enough.
Garowe was built to be the capital of a constitutional state—not a stage for armed political intimidation. Bosaso should be known for commerce, not convoys of gunmen. Galkayo has already buried too many of its sons and daughters to clan revenge. Qardho and every Puntland town deserve schools, investment, and opportunity—not fear, checkpoints, and technicals mounted with heavy weapons.
Let us stop deceiving ourselves.
There is no such thing as a “constitutional militia.”
There is no such thing as a “good armed group.”
And there is certainly no political objective noble enough to justify terrorizing civilians.
Those who reach for the gun after losing the political argument have already admitted they have lost the constitutional one.
The tragedy is that many who now challenge Puntland through violence contributed nothing to building it. Puntland was not created by militias. It was founded in 1998 through dialogue, reconciliation, sacrifice, and a deliberate rejection of the warlordism that destroyed Somalia after 1991.
Its founders understood a timeless principle: a government that does not control the legitimate use of force is not truly governing.
The late President Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed understood this better than most. Agree or disagree with aspects of his leadership, he never confused state authority with militia authority. He understood that a state cannot negotiate its sovereignty with armed factions. The Constitution either governs everyone, or eventually it governs no one.
That lesson has never been more relevant.
Today, Puntland faces a growing danger—not only from terrorists, but from the normalization of politically motivated violence, clan revenge, and illegal armed groups operating outside constitutional authority. Every politician who quietly encourages militias for short-term political advantage is gambling with Puntland’s long-term survival.
But there is another truth that deserves equal attention.
The problem is no longer only the existence of militias. It is also the absence of justice.
Puntland has yet to demonstrate that political violence carries real legal consequences.
Nearly 38 people were killed in political violence in Garowe not long ago, yet the public has not seen those responsible—or those accused of organizing, financing, or instigating that violence—held accountable before independent courts of law. No transparent prosecutions. No public trials. No judicial closure worthy of a constitutional state.
That silence is dangerous.
Impunity is the oxygen of political violence.
When those who organize bloodshed are not brought before the courts, others draw the obvious conclusion: violence is survivable, accountability is optional, and the law is negotiable.
Nothing could be more destructive to public confidence.
Justice delayed is not merely justice denied.
In Puntland, justice ignored becomes an invitation to the next gunfight.
This is where the Puntland authorities face their greatest constitutional test.
Security operations alone are not enough. Arrests alone are not enough. Public statements alone are not enough.
The law must complete the journey.
Those against whom there is sufficient credible evidence of committing, organizing, financing, or inciting political violence must be investigated professionally, prosecuted independently, and tried fairly before competent courts. No sacred cows. No political favourites. No clan exemptions.
The law must become stronger than the gun.
Yet in doing so, Puntland must never abandon the principles that distinguish a constitutional state from those who seek to undermine it. Every security operation must respect human rights. Civilians must be protected. Due process must be guaranteed. Collective punishment has no place in Puntland. Justice must be firm, but it must also be lawful.
That is not a weakness.
That is civilization.
The founders of Puntland did not sacrifice to replace one armed faction with another. They built institutions so future generations would no longer have to live at the mercy of men carrying guns outside the law.
Puntland now faces a defining choice.
Either it restores the rule of law, disarms every illegal militia, prosecutes political violence without fear or favour, and reaffirms the state’s exclusive authority over the use of force—
Or it continues down the road where every political disagreement is settled by armed mobilization, every killing goes unanswered, and every act of impunity plants the seed of the next conflict.
The choice should not be difficult.
One Constitution.
One government.
One chain of command.
One system of justice.
Zero tolerance for political violence.
The gun did not build Puntland.
The gun must never be allowed to bury it.

Reported by Abdilatif Ahmed

“The Puntland Diaspora Community in the United Kingdom (UK) expresses its deep concern regarding the escalating security situation and strongly condemns what it views as actions by President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud and the Federal Government of Somalia that are increasing military tensions and instability affecting Puntland.

According to information received by the Community, additional troops, heavy weapons, and military equipment have reportedly been deployed toward Galkacyo. The Community considers these developments a serious escalation that threatens peace, security, social stability, and national unity, while increasing the risk of armed confrontation with potentially severe political, humanitarian, and security consequences.

The Community believes that military mobilisation represents a departure from dialogue, constitutional governance, and peaceful dispute resolution. At a time when Somalia requires unity, reconciliation, and cooperation to address national challenges, the use of military force to resolve political disagreements risks deepening divisions, weakening institutions, and undermining public trust.

The Puntland Diaspora Community strongly condemns what it views as the use of state military resources and authority to apply political pressure on Puntland. Political and constitutional disputes must be resolved through dialogue, negotiation, mutual respect, and adherence to federal principles, democracy, constitutional order, and the rule of law—not through confrontation or coercion.

The Community warns that continued military escalation around Galkacyo could endanger civilian lives, increase humanitarian risks, cause displacement, disrupt economic activity, and further weaken political stability in Puntland and Somalia as a whole.

The Puntland Diaspora Community firmly maintains that political disagreements must never be resolved through force or military threats. All disputes must be addressed through genuine dialogue, peaceful engagement, and constitutional processes.

Therefore, the Puntland Diaspora Community in the United Kingdom calls for:

The immediate cessation of military activities that could further escalate tensions in Galkacyo and Puntland.

A renewed commitment by all political leaders to peaceful dialogue, constitutional processes, and sustainable solutions.

Full respect for the constitutional rights, security, and autonomy of Federal Member States.

Protection of civilians, public infrastructure, and humanitarian access in accordance with international principles.

Greater involvement by regional and international partners in supporting mediation and de-escalation efforts.

The Community believes that continued escalation risks weakening Somalia’s institutions, undermining national unity, and diverting resources from essential priorities, including security, economic recovery, and democratic development. Lasting peace and stability can only be achieved through inclusive governance, accountability, reconciliation, and genuine political dialogue.

The Puntland Diaspora Community therefore calls upon President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud and the Federal Government of Somalia to exercise restraint and avoid any actions that may further increase tensions with Puntland. Priority must be given to constructive dialogue, protection of civilians, preservation of peace, and strengthening Somalia’s federal institutions.

The Puntland Diaspora Community in the United Kingdom reaffirms its commitment to a peaceful, united, democratic, and federal Somalia based on justice, constitutional governance, mutual respect, and the rule of law. The Somali people deserve responsible leadership that prioritises national interests, resolves disputes through dialogue, and protects the future and wellbeing of all citizens.”

Translated from Somali by WDM Desk

Mogadishu, August 4th, 2026

The Future Somalia Council strongly condemns the weapons and forces being deployed to the city of Galkacyo by Hassan Sheikh Mahmoud, the President whose term has expired, actions that have created a climate of conflict and pose a serious threat to peace, stability, and the coexistence of the people living in the Galmudug and Puntland regions.
Today’s fighting, which resulted from weapons transported into the Galkacyo district, is an example of the danger that can arise from the irresponsibility and misguided ambitions of the President whose term has expired, who is taking increasingly dangerous steps against the country, its people, and Somali statehood with each passing day.
The city of Galkacyo has been recovering over the past ten years from conflicts and clan warfare, yet it is unfortunate that the President whose term has expired is igniting conflict in the city and creating renewed insecurity and instability.
It is astonishing that at a time when the terrorist group Al-Shabaab is regaining areas that were liberated at great cost of bloodshed, the President whose term has expired is using the weapons and forces meant to liberate the country to instead stir up tensions in peaceful areas.
Finally, the Future Somalia Council calls on regional administrations, traditional elders, religious scholars, intellectuals, and civil society to work together for peace and stability, and to jointly prevent the conflict that the President whose term has expired is inciting in Galkacyo.

A WDM Editorial
A government’s priorities are revealed not by its speeches, but by where it commits its soldiers, its money, and its political energy. Today, Somalia faces an uncomfortable question: why does a Federal Government whose constitutional mandate expired months ago appear more determined to escalate tensions in Galkayo than to liberate Somali territory still occupied by al-Shabaab?
Galkayo has suffered enough.
It is a city burdened by divided administration, decades of unresolved clan grievances, contested jurisdiction, recurring insecurity, and the pressures of displacement. It should be a place where federal institutions cooperate to preserve stability—not another arena for political confrontation.
Yet allegations continue to emerge that federal-aligned actors are encouraging militia mobilization around Galkayo instead of concentrating national efforts against the insurgency that continues to occupy Somali soil.
The contrast could hardly be sharper.
Adan Yabaal, barely 200 kilometres from Mogadishu, was celebrated as one of the Somali National Army’s major victories in 2022. Yet al-Shabaab recaptured the strategic town in April 2025, and it remains outside government control. That is not a peripheral setback. It is a reminder that Somalia’s principal battlefield remains unfinished.
Then there is Jilib—al-Shabaab’s long-standing operational headquarters and self-declared capital since 2014. Despite years of military campaigns, international support, airstrikes, and repeated offensives, the movement’s political and military nerve centre remains intact. More than a decade later, the federal government has still not reclaimed the insurgency’s capital.
Instead, an altogether different pattern appears to be emerging.
South West State has experienced sustained federal intervention following disputes over regional authority. Galmudug now finds itself in open political tension with Villa Somalia. And Galkayo, sitting on the sensitive boundary between Puntland and Galmudug, increasingly risks becoming the next flashpoint.
Whether every allegation proves accurate or not, the perception itself is deeply damaging. Federalism cannot survive if Federal Member States come to believe that political independence invites pressure while constitutional cooperation receives intimidation.
The irony is particularly striking because the Federal Government itself operates under a constitutional cloud. Its constitutional mandate expired months ago, yet instead of prioritizing constitutional consensus, national reconciliation, and the recovery of territory held by terrorists, it appears increasingly preoccupied with political confrontation against Federal Member States. A government whose own constitutional legitimacy is disputed should exercise restraint—not open new political and military fronts.
Former Prime Minister Omar Abdirashid Ali Sharmarke recently warned that a conflict in Galkayo would divert precious military resources from the fight against al-Shabaab and ISIS. On that point, he is entirely correct. Somalia cannot afford another internal front while terrorists continue to occupy strategic territory.
But his warning leaves unanswered the most important question: who is creating the conditions for such a conflict?
Warning against war while remaining silent on those whom critics accuse of orchestrating the political and military tensions around Galkayo is an incomplete analysis. If federal-aligned actors are contributing to militia mobilization and political destabilization, then condemning the consequences without confronting their alleged role treats the symptoms while ignoring the disease.
The Provisional Constitution did not establish federalism so that Mogadishu could politically discipline Federal Member States. It established federalism to disperse power, reduce conflict, and unite Somali institutions against common national enemies.
That enemy is not Puntland.
That enemy is not Galkayo.
That enemy is al-Shabaab.
If a Federal Government whose constitutional mandate expired months ago still possesses the troops, resources, and political determination to project force, those assets should first be directed toward liberating Adan Yabaal, reclaiming Jilib, and dismantling al-Shabaab’s remaining territorial sanctuary. Those are the battles that matter. Those are the victories the Somali people have waited for.
Manufacturing political crises in areas outside the Federal Government’s effective administration does not strengthen the Somali state. It weakens federalism, diverts scarce security resources, and risks opening another front in a country already fighting for its survival. More paradoxically, it undermines the very federal system that President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud has repeatedly presented as a cornerstone of his government’s political agenda. A strategy that erodes the constitutional autonomy, mutual trust, and institutional integrity of the Federal Member States ultimately weakens the Union it claims to defend.
History will not judge leaders by how effectively they confronted fellow Somalis. It will judge them by whether they defended the Constitution, respected the limits of their mandate, and liberated the territory still occupied by terrorists.
Somalia does not need another constitutional crisis.
It does not need another federal confrontation.
It needs Adan Yabaal back.
It needs Jilib back.
It needs a government that fights al-Shabaab—not federalism.

Translated from Somali by WDM Desk

Garowe, Puntland — Date: 4 August 2026
The Puntland Government condemns the outgoing Federal Government of Somalia for deploying troops and weapons into areas under Puntland’s administration. Today, 4 August 2026, the Federal Government offloaded additional weapons in Galkacyo city — specifically on the Galmudug side — intending to move them into the Puntland side, but was blocked by the security forces and residents of the Galmudug administration. This led to a confrontation that caused casualties.
The Puntland Government commends the Galmudug administration, its forces, and its public for preventing the insecurity being driven by the Federal Government in Mudug region, and for stopping weapons and troops from being moved through the area in a way that would endanger the security of Puntland’s territories.
Puntland and Galmudug share good neighborliness, social coexistence, and long-standing administrative cooperation. Safeguarding security and overall stability across both administrations’ areas is a shared responsibility of both sides.
The Puntland Government wishes to inform the Somali people and the international community that the former President of Somalia, Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, is stoking conflict in Mudug region — particularly in Galkacyo city — where the people and the sister governments of Puntland and Galmudug have coexisted peacefully. Any insecurity resulting from this action is therefore the responsibility of the President whose term has expired.
Finally, the Puntland Government calls on the people of Puntland to remain vigilant against the security interference being carried out by the Federal Government in Puntland’s territories, and to stand united against anything that could harm Puntland’s statehood, security, and stability.
—–
Office of Communications, Presidency of Puntland State (DPL)

By A M Yusuf (Educator and socio-political analyst based in London, UK)

Former Somali Prime Minister Omar Abdirashid Ali Sharmarke’s recent statement on X — “Galkacyo is not Calmiskaad” — is technically correct but politically misleading. The line was posted as a warning against Puntland “waging a war of aggression against fellow Puntland Forces,” a reference to the standoff between Puntland’s government and the Puntland Security Force (PSF) militia. By invoking Calmiskaad in the same breath, Sharmarke implies a false equivalence: that confronting an unlawful armed faction is comparable to confronting terrorists, and that neither deserves the state’s resolve.
No one disputes that Galkacyo is not Calmiskaad. But the comparison obscures what Puntland actually achieved there. The Calmiskaad (Cal-Miskaad) mountains became the entrenched stronghold of ISIS-Somalia under Abdulkadir Mumin, and since Operation Hilaac began in late 2024, Puntland’s Counter-Terrorism Forces — with US and UAE support — have fought a costly, multi-phase campaign to clear it, at real cost in soldiers’ lives. That campaign has protected not just Puntland but Gulf of Aden shipping lanes and regional stability more broadly, often with little tangible backing from Mogadishu.
The PSF dispute is a different matter, and conflating it with Calmiskaad only muddies the picture. Puntland’s presidency has declared the PSF outside its official command structure — a legacy of the 2021 Bosaso clashes that were only defused through elder-led mediation. A state cannot indefinitely tolerate an armed faction operating outside its chain of command; the alternative is a fragmented security architecture that serves no one. Two further threads are tangled into the same moment but are not the same dispute: Puntland’s objection to the federal government’s appointment of Gen. Jimale Takar as commander of the 54th Division, and Puntland’s separate warning to Galmudug against allowing troop and weapons movements through its territory toward Puntland-administered areas. Treating all three — PSF, the federal appointment, and Galmudug — as a single undifferentiated “war of aggression” collapses distinct issues into one and casts the party asserting lawful authority as the aggressor.
There is a history worth recalling here. Sharmarke served as Prime Minister under President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s first administration (December 2014–March 2017), the period when Puntland and Galmudug forces clashed repeatedly over Galkacyo — a city long divided between Puntland- and Galmudug-administered zones. Many in Puntland believed Mogadishu treated that crisis as a political opportunity rather than a matter requiring impartial mediation. That memory shapes how his intervention now reads: less a neutral call for restraint, more a continuation of old alignments. It brings to mind the Somali proverb “Fiqi tolkii kama janno tago” — a cleric does not abandon his own even at heaven’s gate.
The broader concern in Puntland and Jubbaland is that President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud is working to bring the federal member states under more centrally compliant leadership, as many perceive has already happened in South West State and Hirshabelle, with similar ambitions suspected toward Galmudug. Whether or not that reading is entirely fair, it is widely held — and it is why politicians from Puntland or Jubbaland seen as aiding efforts to erode their states’ constitutional authority may find favor in Mogadishu in the short term, but risk lasting damage to their standing at home.

Editor’s Note:  This narrative provides a firsthand account of the political betrayal and internal collapse of the Somali Salvation Democratic Front (SSDF) while operating under Ethiopian protection in 1985. The author, a former secretariat director, details how he drafted a warning letter regarding a conspiracy to assassinate leader Abdullahi Yusuf, which ultimately served as a catalyst for Yusuf’s arrest by the Derg regime. Through descriptions of espionage activities and document forgery at a state press, the source illustrates how Ethiopia manipulated Somali rebel factions to serve its own imperial interests. The text highlights the inherent dangers of liberation movements relying on foreign powers, as the quest for autonomy turned allies into prisoners. Ultimately, these events are framed as a foundational lesson in the cynical nature of regional geopolitics, which deeply influenced Yusuf’s future approach to governance.

—-

 October 19, 2025 

WARSAME DIGITAL MEDIA (WDM)
Critical Analysis, History, and Political Commentary

By Ismail H. Warsame

The Day Suspicion Became Survival

It was one of those mornings in Addis Ababa in early 1985 when the SSDF Secretariat Office felt unusually tense. The war against tyranny was being waged not only in the field but also in the corridors of intrigue. Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed, the Chairman of the Somali Salvation Democratic Front (SSDF), and his close associate Abdullahi Mohamed Hassan — known in the Front as Abdullahi Faash, who died in Derg jail presumably under torture— walked into the Secretariat office where I worked as director. Their faces betrayed a mixture of defiance and dread.

They asked me to draft a letter. It was to be addressed to the Ethiopian External Research Department, the counter-intelligence branch of the Ministry of Public Security then liaising with the SSDF. The contents were explosive: evidence of a conspiracy to assassinate Abdullahi Yusuf. The plot, they claimed, involved none other than an Ethiopian intelligence officer, the late Ahmed Mohamed Silaanyo, then Chairman of the Somali National Movement (SNM), and Amina Ahmed Warsame Nur Godane, the wife of SSDF Executive Secretary Abdirahman Aydeed Dhadhable.

That letter would later become a piece of political dynamite — a prelude to Abdullahi Yusuf’s arrest by Mengistu’s Derg regime.

The Anatomy of a Conspiracy

At the time, relations between Abdullahi Yusuf and the Derg government were deteriorating rapidly. Once the favored ally of Addis Ababa, Yusuf had become an irritant — a Somali nationalist who refused to bend entirely to Ethiopian manipulation. The Derg wanted obedience; Yusuf demanded sovereignty.

The alleged assassination plot was not merely about eliminating a man. It was about dismantling a movement. The SSDF represented the first organized Somali resistance against the dictatorship of Siad Barre, but it operated within Ethiopia — a state with its own imperial ambitions over Somali territories. The Derg’s counter-intelligence machinery was notorious for playing double games: nurturing Somali rebels on one hand, neutralizing their leaders on the other.

By bringing in figures like Silaanyo — then leading SNM — and exploiting internal SSDF fissures through figures such as Fadumo Nur Godane, Ethiopia’s intelligence apparatus seemed to be orchestrating a divide, discredit, and destroy campaign.

The Drafting of the Letter

I wrote the letter as requested, my pen trembling over the typewriter keys. It was to be signed by Abdullahi Yusuf himself. The letter outlined the conspiracy, the names involved, and the imminent threat to his life.

When I personally delivered it to the Ministry of Public Security, an officer — with the cold curiosity of a spy — asked me, “What is in this letter?”

I simply replied: “I don’t know.”

In truth, I knew every word of it. But in a city where truth could be fatal, ignorance was the only shield.

That single statement may have saved my life.

The Press, the Proofs, and the Peril

Outside political intrigue, my other duty was more mundane — proofreading Midnimo, SSDF’s quarterly magazine published in English. This was done at Burhan Selam Press, the largest print house in Ethiopia. It was a delicate task, but even the world of printing was not immune to espionage.

One day, as I worked on the English-language proofs, Ethiopian technicians asked me to examine official Somali documents — driver’s licenses, postal stamps, and auto circulation permits. They appeared to be “studying” these documents, but it soon became evident that they were engaged in forging Somali government documents — reproducing official seals and designs for intelligence purposes.

That was when I realized the abyss I was standing over: I was in a room where the machinery of forgery and deception operated under the guise of “printing.” Shortly thereafter, I was quietly told never to enter that room again.

They feared I had seen too much.

I left that building with the haunting awareness that even paper could be a weapon — a tool of political warfare and infiltration.

The Aftermath: Arrest and Silence

Not long after that letter reached the Ministry, Abdullahi Yusuf was arrested by the Derg regime. The very government that once sheltered him turned against him. The conspiracy he warned about may have accelerated his downfall, or perhaps it was used as a convenient pretext to silence him.

The Derg had no patience for Somali independence of mind, even among its supposed allies. SSDF was tolerated only as long as it served Ethiopian interests. The moment Abdullahi Yusuf asserted autonomy, he became expendable.

His arrest sent shockwaves across SSDF ranks and across the world. The Front fractured; trust evaporated. The movement that once symbolized Somali unity against dictatorship was now consumed by internal suspicion and Ethiopian manipulation.

The Lesson in Betrayal

That episode was more than an assassination attempt — it was a defining lesson in political betrayal under foreign shadow. Ethiopia’s involvement with Somali resistance movements was never altruistic; it was always transactional, driven by its own national calculus.

The tragedy of SSDF lies not just in external manipulation but in how easily Somali movements allowed themselves to become arenas for foreign games.

Abdullahi Yusuf survived the assassination plot and the Derg’s prison — but the scars of that era marked him for life. When he later returned to lead Puntland and eventually Somalia, he did so with a hardened realism born from betrayal and captivity.

—

WDM Verdict

The assassination attempt against Abdullahi Yusuf was real — not in the cinematic sense of bullets and bombs, but in the political sense of premeditated elimination through intrigue, isolation, and imprisonment.

It revealed the true nature of the SSDF–Ethiopia relationship: one of convenience, control, and calculated betrayal. It exposed how revolutionary movements, when hosted by foreign powers, inevitably become hostages to foreign agendas.

And it showed that in the shadow politics of the Horn of Africa, truth is never safe — even in a letter.

—

Warsame Digital Media (WDM) — speaking truth to power, documenting history without fear or favour.

By Abdilatif Ahmed

Talk of a deeper, longer-term security partnership between Puntland and the United States, potentially involving an expanded American footprint in Bosaso, would mark one of the more consequential developments in the Horn of Africa’s recent security landscape. It is worth noting this is not a cooperation being built from scratch: U.S. forces have already struck ISIS-Somalia targets near Bosaso repeatedly since early 2025, AFRICOM has acknowledged operating in the area, and the UAE has maintained a substantial security and port-infrastructure presence in the city since 2017. What is being discussed, then, is less the birth of a partnership than its formalization and expansion — with all the opportunity and complexity that implies.
A Longer History Than It Appears
This cooperation also has deeper roots than the current Bosaso discussion suggests. Puntland and the United States have worked together on security matters since close to the state’s founding in 1998: in 2001, under President Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed, Puntland stood up the Puntland Intelligence Service (later reorganized as the Puntland Intelligence Agency, and today the Puntland Intelligence Security Agency) as a joint venture with U.S. intelligence support, built specifically to counter the spread of Islamist militancy in the region. That agency has since served as Puntland’s primary counterterrorism and intelligence arm, and its evolution — including a 2009 restructuring, agreed with U.S. officials, that split it into a distinct security force and intelligence service — reflects a partnership that has been continuously renegotiated rather than newly invented. Framed against that history, the current Bosaso discussion looks less like a new chapter and more like the latest, higher-stakes iteration of a two-decade relationship.
Why Bosaso Matters
Bosaso sits on the Gulf of Aden, adjacent to one of the world’s busiest shipping corridors linking Europe, the Gulf, and Asia. That geography has already drawn in the UAE, which has backed the Puntland Maritime Police Force since 2010 and holds a 30-year concession, through P&O Ports, to develop and manage Bosaso’s port. It has also made the city a recurring launch point for U.S. and allied counter-ISIS operations in the nearby Cal Miskaad mountains.
Beyond the coastline, exploratory surveys point to possible mineral deposits in Puntland, though nothing commercially viable has yet been confirmed. If that changes, it would add another layer to the region’s strategic value — and another reason security and governance need to keep pace with investment.
Security Gains
Puntland has generally shown more institutional resilience against al-Shabaab, ISIS-Somalia, piracy, and arms trafficking than other parts of Somalia, aided by sustained U.S. and Emirati support. But the threat picture is widening: Red Sea instability and Houthi activity off Yemen raise the risk of maritime insecurity and smuggling spilling into the Gulf of Aden, adding an Iran-linked proxy dimension to an already complex threat environment.
A deeper U.S. relationship could plausibly strengthen:
Intelligence-sharing and early-warning systems
Maritime domain awareness and coastal defense
Counterterrorism training and border/migration security
Counter-financing and arms-interdiction efforts
Communications and logistics infrastructure
Economic Stakes
Security partnerships of this kind typically bring infrastructure investment — ports, transport, telecoms — that can spill over into broader economic activity. Bosaso’s port, already central to Puntland’s economy and under long-term UAE development, could see this reinforced further. Should mineral exploration eventually pay off, mining could join fisheries, livestock, and maritime trade as a pillar of diversification — provided it’s managed transparently.
Constitutional and Political Complications
Foreign affairs sit primarily with Somalia’s Federal Government under the Provisional Constitution, which means any formal Puntland–U.S. arrangement would need to be reconciled with Mogadishu’s constitutional role — a live tension given the ongoing standoff between Puntland and the federal government over control of security forces in Bosaso itself. Sustained American engagement nonetheless reinforces Puntland’s reputation as a stable, capable security partner relative to much of the rest of Somalia, a status likely to keep growing as competition over Red Sea security and critical minerals intensifies.
Regional Competition
The Horn of Africa is now a crowded field: the Gulf states, Türkiye, China, and Western powers are all expanding their footprint across the Red Sea corridor, competing over ports, energy routes, and digital infrastructure as much as military basing. An expanded U.S. role in Bosaso would be one more variable in that broader contest, with implications for freedom of navigation and shipping security across the Gulf of Aden.
Outlook
Whether a more formal Puntland–U.S. partnership becomes a genuine asset will depend less on the scale of military cooperation than on how it’s governed: transparency in negotiation, a workable constitutional footing with the Federal Government, and institutions capable of managing the resulting investment responsibly. Bosaso’s geography and Puntland’s security track record already make it a significant actor in regional counterterrorism and maritime security; how the politics around Bosaso are managed — both internally and with Mogadishu — will determine whether that translates into lasting stability or becomes another flashpoint in Somalia’s federal disputes.

For more than a quarter century, Puntland has been among Somalia’s strongest advocates of federal unity — investing political capital, exercising restraint through successive national crises, and championing constitutional governance in the belief that partnership, not domination, would hold the country together. Today, many Puntlanders are asking an unavoidable question: how long can loyalty be sustained when it is repeatedly answered with marginalization?
Puntland has built functioning institutions, maintained relative security, and contributed substantially to counterterrorism, maritime security, and state-building — often while national institutions elsewhere struggled to function at all. Yet many in the region see these contributions as unreciprocated: the Federal Constitution, they argue, has been applied selectively — invoked when convenient for Mogadishu, set aside when it constrains centralized power. Rather than being treated as a model of stable regional governance, Puntland’s autonomy is, in this view, treated as an obstacle to be managed.
This reframes the central question. It is no longer whether Puntland has met its obligations to Somalia, but whether successive federal governments have met their constitutional obligations to Puntland — and whether Puntland needs Mogadishu more than Mogadishu needs it. Many now conclude the region gives more to the federal project than it receives back in equal representation, resource-sharing, or genuine partnership. That frustration extends to Puntland’s own leadership too: years of compromise without reciprocal guarantees, and the absence of a coherent long-term strategy, have arguably weakened the state’s negotiating position.

A WDM Editorial

Today’s bilateral security agreement between the United States and Puntland, authorizing the expansion of the American presence in Bosaso, should not be dismissed as simply another counterterrorism arrangement. It is better understood as the latest chapter in a much larger geopolitical story—one that begins not in Bosaso, but at Cape Guardafui (Ras Asayr), where the Gulf of Aden meets the Indian Ocean. According to the Puntland Presidency, the agreement focuses on strengthening cooperation against terrorism and enhancing maritime security in the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden.¹
For decades, Cape Guardafui has been treated as a forgotten headland. In reality, it is the natural Suez Canal of the Horn of Africa. Long before satellites, GPS, and electronic navigation, ships sailing between Europe, the Middle East, India, and the Far East depended upon the lighthouse at Cape Guardafui to safely negotiate one of the world’s most hazardous coastlines. Italian colonial authorities understood its commercial significance so well that they established a system of collecting navigation fees from international vessels passing the Cape.²
The Cape was not merely overlooking global commerce.
It was helping to organize it.
This is why Cape Guardafui deserves to be viewed as the natural counterpart to the Suez Canal—a maritime asset whose value lies not in engineering, but in geography itself.
History demonstrates a simple principle: great powers do not choose geography; geography chooses great powers. The United States’ decision to deepen its partnership with Puntland should therefore be seen within the broader strategic context of securing one of the busiest maritime corridors on Earth. While the immediate justification is counterterrorism and maritime security, history teaches that enduring military partnerships are almost always built upon enduring strategic geography.³
For years, WDM has argued that Puntland’s greatest untapped resource is neither oil nor minerals, but its location. Nature placed Puntland astride the junction between the Red Sea, the Gulf of Aden, and the Indian Ocean. While Somali politics remained consumed by internal constitutional disputes, global powers quietly continued studying the map.
Today’s agreement suggests Washington has reached the same conclusion.
Years ago, Puntland attempted to transform Cape Guardafui into an international maritime service and tourism hub through a Swiss-backed feasibility study that proposed fuel facilities, freshwater supply, hospitality services, and support infrastructure for international shipping and cruise liners. The project reportedly received favourable technical assessments and support for private-sector engagement.
It ultimately failed—not because the economics were flawed, but because Puntland lacked internationally recognized sovereign authority to conclude agreements of such strategic magnitude. Questions surrounding Somalia’s constitutional arrangements and the international legal status of the surrounding waters proved decisive.⁴
Ironically, the same strategic sensitivity that once discouraged commercial investment now appears to justify expanded international security cooperation.
This represents a remarkable geopolitical reversal.
Bosaso is not simply another port. It is the logistical gateway to Cape Guardafui. Any long-term effort to secure the Gulf of Aden, Bab el-Mandeb, and the approaches to the Red Sea inevitably elevates the importance of the Bosaso–Guardafui maritime corridor.
That corridor has become increasingly significant as Houthi attacks have disrupted Red Sea shipping, piracy concerns have persisted in the western Indian Ocean, and competition among the United States, Gulf states, China, Turkey, and European powers has intensified.⁵
There is another lesson hidden in Guardafui’s history.
For generations, rumours circulated in international maritime circles alleging that the inhabitants around Cape Guardafui practiced cannibalism after lighthouse keepers mysteriously disappeared. Lloyd’s of London reportedly increased insurance premiums as fears spread through commercial shipping networks.
The reality appears to have been far less sensational.
Local communities allegedly persuaded isolated lighthouse keepers to abandon their posts and settle nearby. With the lighthouse extinguished, vessels struck reefs, creating opportunities for salvaging valuable cargo washed ashore. What later became folklore was, in reality, an early example of how misinformation could distort international markets while masking an informal maritime economy.
Even the old Somali saying—”Bad ka soo bax, boqor baa leh” (“What the sea yields belongs to the King”)—captures an ancient understanding that maritime wealth belongs to legitimate political authority. Long before the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea codified maritime rights, Somali coastal communities already understood sovereignty in practical terms.⁶
Today, the strategic importance of Cape Guardafui is no longer merely historical.
Conflict in the Red Sea, renewed great-power rivalry, expanding military deployments, and growing concern over global supply chains have all returned international attention to the Horn of Africa. The same geography that Italian administrators monetized, that Swiss planners sought to develop, and that Puntland long recognized is finally being rediscovered by the wider world.
The Bosaso agreement is therefore more than a security pact.
It is an implicit acknowledgement that Puntland occupies one of the world’s indispensable maritime frontiers.
If Puntland can match this renewed international interest with constitutional stability, strategic planning, and long-term investment in maritime infrastructure, today’s agreement may eventually be remembered not simply as the expansion of an American military presence, but as the moment Cape Guardafui finally re-entered the geopolitical imagination of the twenty-first century.
The natural Suez Canal of the Horn of Africa was never hidden.
It was merely waiting for history to catch up with geography.

——-
Notes
Puntland Presidency, Official Statement on the Bilateral Cooperation Agreement Between Puntland and the United States, Bosaso, August 2, 2026.
Richard Burton, First Footsteps in East Africa (London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1856); Italian Colonial Administration records on the Capo Guardafui Lighthouse.
International Maritime Organization (IMO), Safety of Navigation: Gulf of Aden and Western Indian Ocean (London: IMO, various editions).
United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), Montego Bay, December 10, 1982.
BBC News, “Why the Red Sea Is One of the World’s Most Strategic Shipping Routes”; United States Africa Command (AFRICOM), Federal Government of Somalia Engages ISIS-Somalia with Support from U.S. Forces, April 18, 2025.
I. M. Lewis, A Modern History of Somalia: Nation and State in the Horn of Africa, 4th ed. (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 2002); Lidwien Kapteijns, Clan Cleansing in Somalia: The Ruinous Legacy of 1991 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2013).

Bibliography
Burton, Richard. First Footsteps in East Africa. London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1856.
British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC). “Why the Red Sea Is One of the World’s Most Strategic Shipping Routes.”
International Maritime Organization. Safety of Navigation: Gulf of Aden and Western Indian Ocean. London: IMO.
Kapteijns, Lidwien. Clan Cleansing in Somalia: The Ruinous Legacy of 1991. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2013.
Lewis, I. M. A Modern History of Somalia: Nation and State in the Horn of Africa. 4th ed. Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 2002.
Puntland Presidency. Official Statement on the Bilateral Cooperation Agreement Between Puntland and the United States. Bosaso, August 2, 2026.
United Nations. United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea. Montego Bay, December 10, 1982.
United States Africa Command. Federal Government of Somalia Engages ISIS-Somalia with Support from U.S. Forces. Press Release, April 18, 2025.

By WDM Editorial Board

The agreement signed in Bosaso between Puntland and the United States is more than another security memorandum. It is a geopolitical milestone that reflects a changing balance of power in the Horn of Africa. For the first time, Puntland and Washington have publicly formalized a bilateral arrangement authorizing the expansion of the U.S. military presence in Bosaso. What had been a year of military cooperation has now become institutional policy.
The significance lies not merely in the expansion of a military base, but in what that expansion says about Somalia, the region, and the international community’s evolving strategic calculations.
The immediate justification is straightforward. Puntland has emerged as the principal local force confronting ISIS-Somalia in the Cal Miskaad mountains while simultaneously protecting one of the world’s most important maritime corridors. The Red Sea and Gulf of Aden have become increasingly contested waters, threatened by piracy, regional conflict, and the wider confrontation involving Iran and the United States. Bosaso offers Washington an ideal forward operating location from which to address all three challenges.
Yet the agreement is also a consequence of political realities inside Somalia.
For years, the Federal Government insisted that all international security partnerships must pass through Mogadishu. In practice, however, Somalia’s prolonged political paralysis, constitutional disputes, and weakened federal institutions have steadily reduced Mogadishu’s ability to exercise effective authority across the country. International partners increasingly appear to be dealing with political realities rather than constitutional theory. The Bosaso agreement reflects that shift.
The timing is equally revealing.
Following the withdrawal of the United Arab Emirates from Bosaso after the collapse of its defence relationship with the Federal Government, a strategic vacuum emerged. Military infrastructure that had been built over many years suddenly lacked an external operator. Washington has now moved decisively to occupy that strategic space before another regional or global power could do so.
Geopolitically, this makes perfect sense.
Bosaso sits at one of the world’s most valuable maritime crossroads, overlooking the approaches to the Bab el-Mandeb Strait and the wider Red Sea corridor. Control, surveillance, and rapid deployment from this location carry significance extending far beyond Somalia itself. At a time when global shipping faces unprecedented uncertainty, every major power understands Bosaso’s value.
But this agreement should also serve as a wake-up call for Somalia’s political class.
When external powers increasingly negotiate directly with Federal Member States, it is less a triumph of federalism than a reflection of the failure to complete Somalia’s constitutional transition. International actors prefer predictable and capable partners. Where national institutions cannot provide that certainty, regional authorities inevitably fill the vacuum.
This creates both opportunities and dangers.
For Puntland, closer cooperation with the United States may strengthen counterterrorism capabilities, improve maritime security, and potentially attract broader economic engagement in sectors such as ports, fisheries, energy, and minerals. If managed transparently and within constitutional principles, such cooperation could contribute to regional stability.
However, strategic partnerships must never become substitutes for Somali political reconciliation. Military cooperation cannot replace constitutional settlement. Security arrangements cannot permanently compensate for unresolved questions of sovereignty, federal authority, and the distribution of powers between Mogadishu and the Federal Member States.
The Bosaso pact therefore raises profound constitutional questions that Somalia can no longer postpone. If regional governments are increasingly entering major international security agreements independently, then Somalia’s federal architecture requires urgent political clarification rather than continued ambiguity.
The coming weeks will reveal much. AFRICOM’s detailed position, the legal framework governing the expanded base, the duration of the agreement, and, above all, Mogadishu’s response will determine whether this becomes a source of constructive cooperation or another chapter in Somalia’s constitutional confrontation.
One conclusion, however, is already unmistakable.
Bosaso is no longer merely Puntland’s principal port. It has become one of the most strategically important security hubs in the Horn of Africa. The agreement signed on 2 August 2026 confirms that international powers increasingly see Puntland not simply as a regional administration, but as an indispensable security partner in one of the world’s most volatile strategic theatres.
History may ultimately remember this agreement as the moment Bosaso moved from being a regional port to becoming a central pillar in the architecture of Red Sea security—and as another reminder that, in geopolitics, power ultimately follows capability, stability, and strategic geography rather than constitutional aspirations alone.

By WDM Editorial Desk

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is a developing story. The reported agreement has, at the time of publication, not been independently confirmed by the Puntland State House, U.S. Africa Command (AFRICOM), the U.S. Embassy in Mogadishu, or other official sources. Readers should treat the claim as provisional pending formal verification.

——–
Reports circulating on Sunday suggest that Puntland State and the United States have concluded a bilateral security agreement that could significantly expand American military cooperation at Bosaso. If confirmed, the reported pact would represent one of the most consequential security developments in the Horn of Africa in recent years, strengthening cooperation on counterterrorism, maritime security, and regional stability.
The report remains unverified, but it does not emerge in a vacuum. Over the past year, senior U.S. diplomatic and AFRICOM delegations have repeatedly visited Puntland, holding discussions centered on counterterrorism cooperation, maritime security, and strategic investment. Those engagements have increasingly pointed toward deeper security relations between Washington and Garowe.
Should the agreement prove authentic, its timing would be strategically significant. Following Somalia’s federal government’s cancellation of its security arrangements with the United Arab Emirates earlier this year, the Emirati military presence at Bosaso has reportedly been scaled back, potentially leaving valuable infrastructure available for a new security partnership. For Washington, Bosaso offers an important position overlooking the Gulf of Aden and supporting operations against ISIS-Somalia in the Cal Miskaad mountains while helping secure one of the world’s most critical maritime corridors.

Politically, such a development would also intensify the constitutional debate between Puntland and Mogadishu. A direct security arrangement between the United States and Puntland would almost certainly provoke strong reactions from the Federal Government of Somalia, which has consistently maintained that foreign security agreements fall under federal authority.
At this stage, however, facts must prevail over speculation. Three questions require immediate clarification:

Has a formal agreement actually been signed?
What is the precise scope of the reported cooperation?
Will official confirmation come from Puntland, AFRICOM, or the U.S. State Department?

Until these questions are answered, WDM urges readers to distinguish between credible strategic possibility and verified fact. The trajectory of U.S.–Puntland cooperation has been visible for months, but the existence of a formal basing agreement remains to be independently confirmed.

WDM will continue to monitor developments and provide updates as authoritative information becomes available.

Article 5
Fundamental Rights
Every citizen of Puntland shall enjoy fundamental rights and freedoms, including:
Equality before the law.
Protection of life, liberty, and dignity.
Freedom from unlawful arrest or detention.
Freedom of movement.
Freedom of expression within the limits of the law.
Freedom of religion consistent with Islam.
Freedom of assembly and association.
Protection of private property.
The right to education.
The right to work.
Equal opportunity in public employment.
Access to justice before independent courts.
Protection against discrimination.
Respect for privacy, family, and the home.
The right to participate in public affairs.
These rights may only be limited by law where necessary to protect public order, morality, national security, or the rights of others, and any such limitation must remain consistent with this Charter.

In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful, and on behalf of the people of Puntland:
Recognizing that our country has experienced severe destruction, hardship, and instability caused by dictatorship, civil war, and the absence of law and order;
Believing that the Somali people require a government founded on peace, justice, and the rule of law;
Affirming the principle of self-determination, while striving for the unity of the Somali people based on justice and mutual understanding;
Convinced that peace, freedom, and reconciliation among Somalis can only be achieved through dialogue and cooperation;
Determined to contribute to the reconstruction of Somalia and to enable the Somali people to regain their rightful place among the nations of the world;
Committed to establishing within our communities a peaceful, just, prosperous, and cooperative society;
Therefore, assembled in the city of Garowe, we adopt this Charter establishing the Puntland State as part of a future Federal Republic of Somalia.
Accordingly, we hereby approve and adopt this Charter as our fundamental law.

By Dr Abucar Aden Cadde

Somalia has survived colonial partition, civil war, terrorism, famine, and repeated political crises. Yet the gravest danger it faces today comes not from abroad but from within: the failure of its political class to govern as one nation rather than as competing factions.
It is worth recalling that Somalia’s federalism was never a system designed and imposed top-down. It emerged de facto out of the state collapse of 1991, as regions organized themselves independently amid the vacuum left by civil war. That reality was later given legal form — first by the 2004 Transitional Federal Charter, which established the Transitional Federal Government and formally recognized a federal structure as the basis for reconstituting the state, and then by the 2012 Provisional Constitution, which entrenched federalism as the governing framework of the Federal Republic. Federalism, in other words, was a negotiated response to an existing fact on the ground — not an ideological blueprint imposed on a unitary state. Understanding this origin matters: much of today’s friction stems from the fact that the system was built to accommodate a fractured post-war reality before its institutions, revenue-sharing arrangements, and constitutional boundaries were fully worked out.
That unfinished business is now compounded by a more direct betrayal: the same leaders who took office under the Provisional Constitution are, in practice, undermining the very federal system it establishes. Term extensions without constitutional basis, unilateral changes to electoral processes, and the selective application of federal law all weaken the framework that gave these leaders their legitimacy in the first place. A constitution cannot anchor a federal system if the officials elected under it treat its provisions as negotiable whenever they become inconvenient.
This is now the country’s central liability. The Federal Government and the Federal Member States too often act as rivals rather than constitutional partners, spending their energy contesting authority instead of coordinating policy. The cost falls on ordinary Somalis: each month lost to political disputes is a month without better schools, hospitals, roads, jobs, or security.
Beneath this dysfunction lies a deeper problem — the absence of a national identity that consistently outweighs clan calculation. Clan remains a legitimate part of Somali social life, but when it becomes the primary currency of politics, national institutions cannot mature. The current impasse between the Federal Government and opposition figures is a symptom of this: political competition is healthy, but only within constitutional bounds and a culture of dialogue and compromise. Left unresolved, this polarization risks reversing hard-won gains.
Border security and cross-border migration also demand serious, evidence-based national debate — not neglect, and not exploitation for political advantage. So does the persistent erosion of public trust from corruption and weak governance, despite the billions in international support Somalia has received. Transparency and competent administration are prerequisites for state-building, not optional extras.
Somalia’s underlying assets remain considerable: a strategic position at the mouth of the Red Sea, Africa’s longest mainland coastline, natural resources, an entrepreneurial population, and an engaged global diaspora. But potential does not build a state — vision, discipline, and leadership do.
Nations rarely collapse overnight; they erode gradually, as leaders normalize division, hollow out institutions, and trade long-term national interest for short-term expediency. The responsibility for reversing this pattern lies first with Somalia’s political leadership, whose legacy will be judged not by the offices they held but by whether they strengthened the Republic, upheld its Constitution, and improved citizens’ lives.
Federalism is not the enemy — dysfunctional federalism is. Opposition is not the enemy — paralysis is. Regional diversity is not the enemy — the absence of national purpose is.
Somalia’s future depends less on the ambitions of individual politicians or clans than on whether the country can re-embrace one governing principle: Somalia must come before faction, region, or clan. If that principle prevails, Somalia’s prospects remain bright. If it does not, the greatest threat to the Republic will come not from abroad, but from the failure of its own leaders to protect what has been entrusted to them.m, famine, and repeated political crises. Yet the gravest danger it faces today comes not from abroad but from within: the failure of its political class to govern as one nation rather than as competing factions.
It is worth recalling that Somalia’s federalism was never a system designed and imposed top-down. It emerged de facto out of the state collapse of 1991, as regions organized themselves independently amid the vacuum left by civil war. That reality was later given legal form — first by the 2004 Transitional Federal Charter, which established the Transitional Federal Government and formally recognized a federal structure as the basis for reconstituting the state, and then by the 2012 Provisional Constitution, which entrenched federalism as the governing framework of the Federal Republic. Federalism, in other words, was a negotiated response to an existing fact on the ground — not an ideological blueprint imposed on a unitary state. Understanding this origin matters: much of today’s friction stems from the fact that the system was built to accommodate a fractured post-war reality before its institutions, revenue-sharing arrangements, and constitutional boundaries were fully worked out.
That unfinished business is now compounded by a more direct betrayal: the same leaders who took office under the Provisional Constitution are, in practice, undermining the very federal system it establishes. Term extensions without constitutional basis, unilateral changes to electoral processes, and the selective application of federal law all weaken the framework that gave these leaders their legitimacy in the first place. A constitution cannot anchor a federal system if the officials elected under it treat its provisions as negotiable whenever they become inconvenient.
This is now the country’s central liability. The Federal Government and the Federal Member States too often act as rivals rather than constitutional partners, spending their energy contesting authority instead of coordinating policy. The cost falls on ordinary Somalis: each month lost to political disputes is a month without better schools, hospitals, roads, jobs, or security.
Beneath this dysfunction lies a deeper problem — the absence of a national identity that consistently outweighs clan calculation. Clan remains a legitimate part of Somali social life, but when it becomes the primary currency of politics, national institutions cannot mature. The current impasse between the Federal Government and opposition figures is a symptom of this: political competition is healthy, but only within constitutional bounds and a culture of dialogue and compromise. Left unresolved, this polarization risks reversing hard-won gains.
Border security and cross-border migration also demand serious, evidence-based national debate — not neglect, and not exploitation for political advantage. So does the persistent erosion of public trust from corruption and weak governance, despite the billions in international support Somalia has received. Transparency and competent administration are prerequisites for state-building, not optional extras.
Somalia’s underlying assets remain considerable: a strategic position at the mouth of the Red Sea, Africa’s longest mainland coastline, natural resources, an entrepreneurial population, and an engaged global diaspora. But potential does not build a state — vision, discipline, and leadership do.
Nations rarely collapse overnight; they erode gradually, as leaders normalize division, hollow out institutions, and trade long-term national interest for short-term expediency. The responsibility for reversing this pattern lies first with Somalia’s political leadership, whose legacy will be judged not by the offices they held but by whether they strengthened the Republic, upheld its Constitution, and improved citizens’ lives.
Federalism is not the enemy — dysfunctional federalism is. Opposition is not the enemy — paralysis is. Regional diversity is not the enemy — the absence of national purpose is.
Somalia’s future depends less on the ambitions of individual politicians or clans than on whether the country can re-embrace one governing principle: Somalia must come before faction, region, or clan. If that principle prevails, Somalia’s prospects remain bright. If it does not, the greatest threat to the Republic will come not from abroad, but from the failure of its own leaders to protect what has been entrusted to them.

A WDM Editorial

Check out this video, ahmed cali cigaal

There are public figures who occupy office, and there are public figures who occupy the hearts of a people. Ahmed Ali Egal belonged unmistakably to the latter.
With his passing, Puntland—and Somalia as a whole—has lost not merely a singer or a poet, but one of the enduring custodians of Somali cultural memory. His was a voice that entertained without becoming trivial, inspired without becoming arrogant, and united without demanding allegiance. Such figures are rare in any generation.
Ahmed Ali Egal understood something many politicians never do: nations are sustained not only by constitutions and governments but by songs, poetry, language, and shared memory. Where politicians often divided, artists like him reminded Somalis of what they still held in common.
His music carried the rhythm of the Somali soul. His poetry reflected both the beauty and the burdens of a people who have endured conflict, displacement, and political fragmentation. He belonged to Puntland by origin, but his artistic legacy belonged to every Somali who ever found hope, comfort, or pride in his words.
In times when public life is increasingly dominated by political quarrels, clan rivalries, and endless constitutional disputes, the death of a cultural icon is a sobering reminder of what truly outlives power. Presidents leave office. Governments rise and fall. Political slogans fade. But the songs that become part of a people’s identity endure for generations.
That is why Ahmed Ali Egal’s passing deserves to be mourned not as the loss of an entertainer, but as the departure of a national treasure.
A society that fails to honour its artists slowly loses its memory. Cultural figures preserve the emotional history of a nation. They teach values that no legislation can enforce and inspire unity that no political decree can command. Somalia desperately needs more builders of culture and fewer merchants of division.
Today, we extend our deepest condolences to his family, friends, colleagues, admirers, and to the people of Puntland and Somalia everywhere.
May his poetry continue to be recited.
May his songs continue to be sung.
May his example remind future generations that true greatness is measured not by political office or military rank, but by the lasting imprint one leaves upon the conscience of a people.
Ahmed Ali Egal has departed this world.
His voice has not.
Rest in peace, cultural giant. Somalia is richer because you lived, and poorer because you are gone.

Ahmed Farah Yare responds to the article: Candour Over Convenience: President Deni’s Tribute to Abdullahi Yusuf and the Puntland Story

President Said Abdullahi Deni’s tribute to his predecessor, Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed — founder of Puntland State and later President of Somalia’s Transitional Federal Government — is a fitting reminder of what good leadership looks like. It offers society both the lessons worth learning and the mistakes worth avoiding.
It is a rare trait among sitting leaders to honor their predecessors rather than diminish them. By recognizing Abdullahi Yusuf’s legacy, Deni reinforces political continuity, models a culture of institutional respect, and gives the public a clearer sense of Puntland’s founding purpose and historical trajectory.
This kind of gesture is not incidental. Great leaders distinguish themselves not only by their own achievements but by how they treat those who came before them — and how deliberately they cultivate the next generation of capable administrators. In doing so, they ensure that a state’s gains are sustained rather than reset with each transition of power, and that regional progress compounds over time instead of starting from zero.

By Abdiladif Ahmed

Puntland’s 28th anniversary should be more than ceremony. It is an occasion to reckon with the history that produced it, the sacrifices behind its institutions, and the challenges that still test them.
Puntland’s story cannot be told through 28 years alone. Decades of struggle of its residents preceded its foundation It was  shaped by resistance to tyranny and  collapse of Somalia’s central state, the civil war that followed, and the human devastation — displacement, lost lives, destroyed livelihoods, dismantled institutions — that drove communities across the country, including Puntland, to seek order through self-governance. What exists today was built through loss, compromise, and the sustained effort of generations. It is a historical inheritance, not the property of any administration, faction, or leader.
Twenty-Eight Years of Challenges
Since 1998, Puntland has faced internal political disputes, armed confrontation, boundary disputes, piracy and maritime crime, terrorism, clan tension, and recurring conflict with Somalia’s federal government over the shape of federalism itself.
Its coastline has made it a target for smuggling and organized crime, while extremist groups — most notably the Islamic State-linked militants entrenched in the Golis Mountains — have exploited insecurity and geographic isolation, prompting sustained counter-insurgency operations.
Sool remains the sharpest test. The question of SSC-Khaatumo cannot be set aside within Puntland’s history, as these territories still constitutionally form part of Puntland State. That question hangs unresolved and must be addressed — a matter further complicated by Somaliland and the Federal Government’s own competing claims in the region. Puntland State’s disputes with the Mogadishu Regime have been similarly strained by disagreements over constitutional violations, elections, and resource-sharing — culminating in Puntland’s March 2024 decision to withdraw recognition of the Federal Government after parliament passed constitutional amendments Puntland considers illegitimate. Puntland has since operated with what it calls “the powers of an independent state based on both Federal and State constitutions,” pending an inclusive constitutional process of the federal arrangements.
That Puntland has preserved institutional continuity through all of this is itself the measure of its resilience.
The Risk of Fragmentation
Political disagreement is normal; it becomes dangerous when turned into institutional confrontation, or when clan identity is used as a political weapon rather than treated as one thread of Somali social life. Clan should never substitute for constitutional authority or shield anyone from accountability.
Puntland’s future cannot rest on manipulating clan divisions or personal rivalries. It requires constitutional institutions, the rule of law, and public accountability to sit above narrow political calculation — with lawful, institutional means, not informal pressure, as the response when that line is crossed.
The Responsibility Ahead
Entering its 29th year, Puntland’s task is neither complacency nor nostalgia, but renewed commitment to:
Institutional integrity and constitutional governance,
The rule of law and equal accountability,
Political dialogue over confrontation
National unity and social cohesion,
Professional, disciplined security institutions,
Defense of Puntland’s territorial and political interests through lawful means,
Counter-terrorism and prevention of violent extremism,
Sustainable economic and social development, and
Accountable political leadership.
None of this is secured by dismantling institutions, deepening division, or concentrating power without checks. It is secured by strengthening institutions and keeping political authority subject to law.
Conclusion
Puntland’s 28th anniversary is not only a marker of distance traveled — it is a reminder of what was spent to travel it. The responsibility of this generation is not just to celebrate what was built, but to protect, reform, and strengthen it, so that the sacrifices behind it were not made in vain.

A WDM Editorial

As Puntland marks its 28th Anniversary, it is fitting to reflect on the leadership that shaped its journey. The images above symbolize two generations of that story: Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed, the founding president who led Puntland’s establishment in 1998, and Said Abdullahi Deni, the current president whose recent tribute reaffirmed the importance of preserving Puntland’s institutional memory.
Twenty-eight years after its establishment, Puntland remains one of the most significant political achievements in modern Somali history. Its existence was not accidental. It was born from the conviction that Somalia’s state collapse demanded institution-building rather than endless waiting for the restoration of authority in Mogadishu.
That vision was championed by Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed and the generation that founded Puntland. They chose constitutional governance over anarchy, administration over chaos, and political order over warlordism. Their work demonstrated that functioning government could emerge even while much of Somalia remained engulfed in conflict.
President Said Abdullahi Deni’s recent remarks honouring Abdullahi Yusuf were therefore more than a tribute to a predecessor. They were an affirmation that institutions endure only when successive leaders possess the confidence to acknowledge those who laid their foundations. In a political culture where predecessors are too often ignored or remembered only when politically convenient, such candour reflects statesmanship.
Puntland’s greatest achievement has never been the success of one individual. It has been the endurance of its constitutional institutions across changing administrations and difficult political moments. Leaders come and go; institutions survive only when history is respected rather than rewritten.
As Puntland celebrates twenty-eight years, the most meaningful tribute to its founders is not nostalgia but renewed commitment to the principles upon which the state was built: constitutionalism, the rule of law, accountable government, devolution of power, and service to the public.
The legacy of Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed belongs to history. The responsibility of President Said Abdullahi Deni belongs to the present. Together, they represent two chapters of the same continuing story—a Puntland whose strength lies not in personalities, but in the institutions that continue to serve its people.
Happy 28th Anniversary, Puntland State of Somalia. May the next generation preserve the courage to build, the wisdom to reform, and the integrity to honour history while shaping the future.

A WDM Editorial

Deni’s Speech. Take a watch:

https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1CB7bWAd3h/

There are moments in politics when what is left unsaid reveals more than what is spoken. Then there are rarer moments when a leader chooses candour over convenience, history over political calculation, and institutional memory over personal rivalry. President Said Abdullahi Deni’s remarks at the launch of Ambassador Mohamed Abdi Affey’s book belonged to the latter category.
Speaking about the late President Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed has never been politically effortless. His legacy remains one of the most consequential and contested in modern Somali history. To some, he was the uncompromising soldier who restored order from chaos and founded Puntland in 1998. To others, he was an authoritarian figure whose confrontational style shaped many of the political conflicts that followed. Like most nation-builders emerging from state collapse, he was neither saint nor villain. He was a historical actor operating in extraordinary circumstances.
That is precisely why President Deni’s tribute mattered.
Rather than reducing Abdullahi Yusuf to political symbolism or avoiding his legacy altogether, Deni acknowledged a simple historical reality: Puntland did not emerge by accident. It was a deliberate political project born from the conviction that waiting for the resurrection of a collapsed state in Mogadishu was no strategy at all. Puntland’s founders chose institution-building over paralysis, governance over anarchy, and constitutional order over endless warlordism.
That decision changed Somalia’s political trajectory.
Long before federalism became the accepted framework for rebuilding Somalia, Puntland had already demonstrated that functioning institutions could be constructed from the periphery outward. Whatever one’s opinion of Abdullahi Yusuf personally, that historical contribution cannot honestly be erased. Puntland became proof that Somalis could rebuild government even while the national state remained in ruins.
Acknowledging that fact is not hero worship. It is historical integrity.
Great political leaders understand that institutions are larger than individuals. They also understand that institutions cannot survive if every incoming administration rewrites history to suit its own political needs. Nations that erase their founders eventually lose sight of why they were founded in the first place.
President Deni’s remarks reflected that understanding. By speaking respectfully of a predecessor whose legacy remains politically sensitive, he positioned himself not as a competitor for historical credit but as a custodian of Puntland’s institutional continuity. That distinction matters.
At a time when Puntland faces renewed constitutional disputes with the Federal Government, reaffirming the principles upon which Puntland itself was founded sends a powerful message. Puntland’s defence of constitutional federalism is not simply the policy of one administration. It is the continuation of a political philosophy established in 1998: that stable governance begins with functioning institutions, respect for constitutional order, and the devolution—not the monopolization—of political power.
The setting made the message even more significant. Ambassador Mohamed Abdi Affey has observed Somali politics from regional and international vantage points for decades. A book launch attended by diplomats, policymakers, and scholars was an appropriate forum to remind both domestic and international audiences that Puntland’s history is part of the wider story of state-building in the Horn of Africa, not merely another chapter in Somalia’s endless political rivalries.
History should neither canonize nor condemn without context. Abdullahi Yusuf’s record, like that of many founders, contains achievements, controversies, successes, and failures. Historians will continue debating his methods and decisions, and they should. Mature societies do not fear such debates. They encourage them.
What deserves recognition is President Deni’s willingness to engage that history without resorting to either convenient silence or selective remembrance.
That is what statesmanship looks like.
The strongest institutions are built not merely by those who found them, but by those who are secure enough to honour their foundations without becoming prisoners of personality cults. Puntland’s story belongs neither to Abdullahi Yusuf alone nor to any administration that followed him. It belongs to the people who chose constitutional governance over collapse and institutional continuity over political expediency.
President Deni’s tribute served as a timely reminder that political maturity begins with historical honesty. Leaders come and go. Institutions endure only when successive generations possess the confidence to acknowledge both the triumphs and imperfections of those who came before.
In Somali politics, where history is too often weaponized and predecessors are remembered only when politically useful, candour itself becomes an act of leadership.
That may ultimately be the most enduring message of President Deni’s remarks.

By Ahmed Hassan Humbus

Let’s stop hiding behind diplomatic pleasantries and face the brutal reality: Somalia is not a functioning sovereign republic. It is a hollowed-out, internationally subsidized welfare state on permanent life support. For decades, its national budget, its military apparatus, and its entire humanitarian sector have been completely bankrolled by financial injections from the United States and the European Union. The country is addicted to foreign charity. But what happens when the money stops? If this vital economic lifeline is abruptly severed while the nation remains completely encircled by Al-Shabaab, the myth of Somali unity and sovereignty will violently shatter.
An immediate aid cutoff would not just cause a crisis—it would trigger an absolute catastrophe. Let’s be honest about the military: the Somali National Army (SNA) is fundamentally dependent on foreign cash for basic salaries, training, and logistics. Cut the Western funding, and the army collapses from within. Unpaid soldiers will desert, morale will hit zero, and mutinies will break out. At the same time, multilateral peacekeeping forces—who only stay because the EU and UN foot the bill—will pack up and leave overnight. This massive security vacuum will be an open invitation for Al-Shabaab. While Mogadishu goes bankrupt, Al-Shabaab remains financially self-sufficient through ruthless local extortion and illicit trade. They will out-source, out-gun, and out-maneuver a paralyzed central government, seizing territory at will and forcefully conscripting thousands of abandoned, desperate youths.
Furthermore, let’s strip away the illusion of federal unity. The federal structure in Somalia is not bound by patriotism or shared national values; it is held together solely by the distribution of international cash managed by Mogadishu. The moment the federal government loses its ability to hand out foreign aid and development projects, its authority vanishes. Federal Member States will have absolutely zero incentive to look to the capital for leadership. Regions will bypass Mogadishu entirely, aggressively striking independent, treasonous security and economic deals with regional puppet-masters like Ethiopia, Kenya, or Gulf states just to survive.
In the midst of this chaotic collapse, the ultimate fracture of the old union will become irreversible. Somaliland, which has already maintained its own democratic governance, currency, and relative stability for decades, will definitively go its separate way. Freed from the anchors of Mogadishu’s endless instability, Somaliland will successfully achieve its long-sought objective and take its rightful seat as a fully recognized, independent UN member nation. This political fragmentation will leave the rest of the country in a state of brutal balkanization, dragging the remaining southern regions right back into bloody, clan-based resource wars over ports, airports, and grazing lands.
If the rest of the country survives this collapse, it won’t be because of its political class. A bankrupt Mogadishu will be forced into a humiliating scramble, begging non-Western powers for survival. Countries like Turkey, Qatar, the UAE, and China will gladly step into the vacuum—but their help will not be charity. They will demand geopolitical assets, military bases, and natural resources, renting out remaining Somali sovereignty to the highest bidder. Domestically, the government will finally be forced to strip the local business elite of their free ride, aggressively taxing powerhouse industries like telecommunications and remittance firms that have profited for years while contributing next to nothing to the state. Ultimately, the only thing standing between the population and total starvation will be the diaspora, whose remittances will become the final, desperate safety net for an abandoned population.
The region must wake up from this delusion. Somali unity is a house of cards built on a foundation of foreign charity. If the West withdraws its support while terrorism knocks on the door, the federal system will implode. While Somaliland secures its independent future on the global stage, an aid-free southern Somalia will not be a unified nation. It will be a fractured, highly militarized failed state, forced to bargain away its dignity piece by piece just to keep the lights on.

By Abdiladif Ahmed

Calling Somalia a “failed state” has become a reflex in international discourse. But repetition is not accuracy. Somalia’s failure is not the state itself — it is the recurring failure of those entrusted to lead it. States do not appoint relatives, reward loyalists, auction public property, or mistake personal power for national service. Leaders do.
Somalia holds the fundamental ingredients for national success: a strategic location linking Africa, the Middle East, and global trade routes; abundant natural resources; a youthful population; and a society that has shown extraordinary resilience through decades of conflict and institutional fragility. The tragedy is not a lack of potential — it is the chronic failure of successive leaderships to convert that potential into governance.
Patronage as Policy
For decades, corruption, nepotism, and patronage have hollowed out Somalia’s public institutions. Public office is too often treated as private inheritance rather than public trust: merit waits outside while clan affiliation and political loyalty are shown in first. Somalia’s political elite have mastered one skill above all — turning temporary political arrangements into permanent systems of patronage. Where loyalty is promoted faster than competence, institutional performance becomes secondary to political survival, ministries manage coalitions rather than deliver services, and national planning gives way to the next political fire.
Accountability mechanisms have fared no better. Oversight institutions remain weak, financial transparency inadequate, and enforcement inconsistent. When accountability becomes selective, corruption stops being individual misconduct and becomes an operating system — leaving citizens to wonder whether audits are meant to catch irregularities or simply record them.
This is not merely a governance problem. Corruption and administrative dysfunction deter investment, constrain economic diversification, and drive youth unemployment. Weak institutions also blunt the state’s ability to counter terrorism, transnational crime, and illicit finance — no country can secure itself while hollowing out the institutions meant to provide that security.
Speeches Without Reform
Somalia has never lacked speeches promising reform; it has lacked reforms that survive the speech. Every administration arrives promising transformation; too many leave behind unfinished institutions and recycled slogans. If declarations built nations, Somalia would already rank among the most developed.
Yet Somalia should not be defined by its governance failures alone. Its people continue to invest, educate, build businesses, and demonstrate more confidence in the country’s future than much of its political class has earned. The strategic location, growing commercial sector, regional integration, and youthful demography remain intact. What has been inconsistent is the leadership responsible for managing them.
The Way Forward
Somalia’s future depends less on inventing new institutions than on letting existing ones function with integrity and independence: constitutional governance, an impartial judiciary, transparent public finance, merit-based recruitment, and accountable security institutions. Above all, it requires leaders who treat public office as a constitutional responsibility, not a personal investment.
Somalia’s obstacle is not a shortage of capable citizens or national resilience. It is the recurring habit of conflating the state with the government, the government with the ruling elite, and the national interest with personal survival. Countries rarely fail for want of ability — they falter when leadership chooses patronage over professionalism, and loyalty over competence.
Somalia is not condemned to instability. Its challenge is not state failure — it is leadership failure. Once governance rewards merit over proximity and accountability over impunity, Somalia’s defining trait will no longer be its resilience in surviving bad leadership, but its capacity to prosper under good leadership.

By Abdiladif Ahmed

Calling Somalia a “failed state” has become a reflex in international discourse. But repetition is not accuracy. Somalia’s failure is not the state itself — it is the recurring failure of those entrusted to lead it. States do not appoint relatives, reward loyalists, auction public property, or mistake personal power for national service. Leaders do.
Somalia holds the fundamental ingredients for national success: a strategic location linking Africa, the Middle East, and global trade routes; abundant natural resources; a youthful population; and a society that has shown extraordinary resilience through decades of conflict and institutional fragility. The tragedy is not a lack of potential — it is the chronic failure of successive leaderships to convert that potential into governance.
Patronage as Policy
For decades, corruption, nepotism, and patronage have hollowed out Somalia’s public institutions. Public office is too often treated as private inheritance rather than public trust: merit waits outside while clan affiliation and political loyalty are shown in first. Somalia’s political elite have mastered one skill above all — turning temporary political arrangements into permanent systems of patronage. Where loyalty is promoted faster than competence, institutional performance becomes secondary to political survival, ministries manage coalitions rather than deliver services, and national planning gives way to the next political fire.
Accountability mechanisms have fared no better. Oversight institutions remain weak, financial transparency inadequate, and enforcement inconsistent. When accountability becomes selective, corruption stops being individual misconduct and becomes an operating system — leaving citizens to wonder whether audits are meant to catch irregularities or simply record them.
This is not merely a governance problem. Corruption and administrative dysfunction deter investment, constrain economic diversification, and drive youth unemployment. Weak institutions also blunt the state’s ability to counter terrorism, transnational crime, and illicit finance — no country can secure itself while hollowing out the institutions meant to provide that security.
Speeches Without Reform
Somalia has never lacked speeches promising reform; it has lacked reforms that survive the speech. Every administration arrives promising transformation; too many leave behind unfinished institutions and recycled slogans. If declarations built nations, Somalia would already rank among the most developed.
Yet Somalia should not be defined by its governance failures alone. Its people continue to invest, educate, build businesses, and demonstrate more confidence in the country’s future than much of its political class has earned. The strategic location, growing commercial sector, regional integration, and youthful demography remain intact. What has been inconsistent is the leadership responsible for managing them.
The Way Forward
Somalia’s future depends less on inventing new institutions than on letting existing ones function with integrity and independence: constitutional governance, an impartial judiciary, transparent public finance, merit-based recruitment, and accountable security institutions. Above all, it requires leaders who treat public office as a constitutional responsibility, not a personal investment.
Somalia’s obstacle is not a shortage of capable citizens or national resilience. It is the recurring habit of conflating the state with the government, the government with the ruling elite, and the national interest with personal survival. Countries rarely fail for want of ability — they falter when leadership chooses patronage over professionalism, and loyalty over competence.
Somalia is not condemned to instability. Its challenge is not state failure — it is leadership failure. Once governance rewards merit over proximity and accountability over impunity, Somalia’s defining trait will no longer be its resilience in surviving bad leadership, but its capacity to prosper under good leadership.

Forget the framing of Somalia “risking” fragmentation. It is already happening. Three federal member states have suspended relations with Mogadishu since 2024. A breakaway region got its first-ever sovereign recognition in December. The president is governing on a legally contested term extension. This isn’t a warning sign — it’s the current state of play.
What actually happened: Puntland pulled recognition of the federal government back in March 2024.[14] Jubaland followed in November 2024 after Mogadishu slapped a treason warrant on its president.[14] Then, on March 4–5, 2026, Parliament rammed through a permanent constitution — ending the 2012 provisional framework, extending presidential terms from four years to five, locking in a one-person-one-vote system — without Puntland, Jubaland, or the opposition coalition on board.[10],[8] President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s original mandate expired May 15, 2026. The new amendments retroactively gave him another year anyway.[9]
The third state nobody’s talking about: South West State suspended ties with Mogadishu too, on March 17, 2026 — accusing the federal government of arming local militias and pushing unconstitutional centralization. The Somali Future Council (now Puntland + Jubaland + the Salvation Forum) backed the move within hours.[11] It didn’t last: the Somali National Army rolled in and installed a federal loyalist by March 30.[11] That’s the tell. Mogadishu is now willing to use troops, not just politics, to reverse a state’s defection — which means Puntland and Jubaland aren’t watching a hypothetical, they’re watching a preview.
Somaliland got there first. On December 26, 2025, Israel recognized Somaliland as a sovereign, independent state — the first UN member ever to do so, after three decades of Somaliland governing itself with no international recognition at all.[1],[2] Netanyahu called it consistent with the Abraham Accords; Somaliland’s president said they’d seek to join.[1] Almost everyone else objected: 14 of 15 UN Security Council members pushed back at an emergency session (the US was the lone holdout),[3],[4],[5] and the African Union, the OIC, the Arab League, and IGAD all separately condemned it.[5],[6] None of that stopped Israel’s foreign minister from visiting Hargeisa a week and a half later.[7]
Why the objections don’t matter as much as they sound: universal condemnation from every relevant regional body didn’t reverse anything. That’s the actual lesson for Puntland and Jubaland — international disapproval is not a check on this kind of move, it’s just noise that accompanies it.
Who else has skin in the game: Turkey’s the biggest external player by far — Camp TURKSOM, the Gorgor special forces it trained, a naval presence, and now F-16s based in Mogadishu since early 2026.[13] That buildup is tied to Mohamud personally, not to federal institutions broadly. Gulf states run their own relationships with Puntland’s and Somaliland’s ports directly. Add Israel’s new interest in Somaliland — including quiet talk of it as a relocation site for Gazans — and you’ve got a country where outside powers are increasingly betting on factions, not on Mogadishu.
Where this goes: Two realistic outcomes remain. Either a negotiated confederation — foreign policy, currency, and defense held centrally, everything else devolved to regions that are already running themselves — or continued piecemeal fragmentation, state by state, with Mogadishu using force where it still can (South West State) and losing ground where it can’t (Puntland, Jubaland, Somaliland). A clean single breakup isn’t really on the table. This messier version already is.

——-

Sources
Reuters, “Israel recognises Somaliland, Somalia’s breakaway region, as independent state,” December 26, 2025.
CNN, “Somaliland: Israel becomes first country to formally recognize region as independent state,” December 26, 2025.
Times of Israel, “UN Security Council to convene emergency meeting on Israel’s Somaliland recognition,” December 28, 2025.
France 24, “UN ambassadors condemn Israel’s recognition of Somaliland,” December 30, 2025.
Peoples Dispatch, “Global outcry against Israel’s recognition of Somaliland,” January 2, 2026.
AllAfrica, “African Union Condemns Israel’s Recognition of Somaliland,” January 8, 2026.
PassBlue, “Israeli Actions in Africa Complicate Somalia’s Presidency of the UN Security Council,” January 7, 2026.
ConstitutionNet, “From Provisional to Permanent Constitution? Assessing the End of Somalia’s Constitutional Review Process.”
ICNL, Somalia Civic Freedom Monitor, updated 2026.
Eu SEE / Hivos, “Jubaland Opposition to Federal Constitutional Process Threatens Inclusive Civic Participation,” March 10, 2026.
Horn Review, “Meles Zenawi’s Prescience: The Case for SWS, Puntland and Jubaland and the Domino Effect,” March 26, 2026.
African Security Analysis, “Monthly Forecast: Somalia,” June 24, 2026.
Middle East Forum, “Turkey Holds Somalia’s Constitution Hostage,” June 4, 2026.
Wikipedia, “Constitutional Crisis in Somalia,” and “Israel–Somaliland relations.”

Somalia is entering one of its most precarious moments in years. Washington has moved to terminate the UN’s logistical backbone for the African Union mission (AUSSOM) by year-end, even as it deepens direct engagement with Puntland, Jubaland and Somaliland outside Mogadishu. This week, both tracks converged: troop-contributing countries gathered in Kampala for an emergency summit on the mission’s survival, while a US congressional and AFRICOM delegation toured Kismayo, Garowe and Hargeisa. Together, these moves mark a shift from a Mogadishu-centric security architecture toward a more fragmented, regionally driven one — with real consequences for state-building, counter–Al-Shabaab operations and humanitarian access.
The UNSOS cutoff: the central shock
On July 1, 2026, the US Mission to the African Union informed the AU Commission that Washington would not support renewing the UN Support Office in Somalia (UNSOS) beyond AUSSOM’s current mandate, which expires December 31, 2026. The US said it would not oppose renewing AUSSOM’s Chapter VII mandate itself, but would oppose any renewal that includes UNSOS or other UN logistical or operational support — support that currently underwrites roughly $500 million a year in fuel, food, medical evacuation, transport and equipment reimbursement for AUSSOM’s approximately 11,800 uniformed personnel. Without it, the mission is widely assessed as operationally unsustainable heading into 2027.
This followed, but is distinct from, a separate January episode: the US suspended all assistance to the Somali Federal Government on January 7, 2026, after accusing officials of destroying a US-funded WFP warehouse in Mogadishu and seizing 76 metric tons of food aid. That freeze was short-lived — Washington resumed WFP food distribution on January 29 after Mogadishu acknowledged responsibility — but it set the tone for a year of hardening US frustration with the federal government’s governance and accountability, culminating in the July UNSOS decision.
Kampala: contingency planning under pressure
Uganda is hosting the second Extraordinary Summit of AUSSOM Troop-Contributing Countries (Burundi, Djibouti, Egypt, Ethiopia, Kenya, Uganda and Somalia) at Speke Resort Munyonyo, July 29–31, under the theme “To Sustain the Stabilisation Process in Somalia.” Chiefs of defense met first, followed by defense ministers, with a heads-of-state summit closing the gathering. Uganda’s CDF, Gen. Muhoozi Kainerugaba, has already warned that reduced funding is forcing troop-contributing countries to scale back operations and that “alternative arrangements” are now unavoidable. The summit’s recommendations go to the AU Peace and Security Council and, ultimately, the UN Security Council, which must decide in December whether — and in what form — AUSSOM continues.
Washington’s regional tour
The convergence is not accidental. This week’s Congress-AFRICOM delegation to Kismayo, Garowe and Hargeisa is the latest in a pattern of direct US engagement with federal member states that has intensified through 2026 — including a May visit by Acting Ambassador Justin Davis and AFRICOM’s Col. Shane Jones to Garowe, where talks centered on Puntland’s minerals, fisheries and oil potential rather than traditional aid. That visit came days after Puntland formally withdrew recognition of President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s administration, when his four-year mandate expired on May 15 — a rupture that has hardened federal-regional distrust well beyond the routine friction visible in earlier disputes, such as Mogadishu blocking aircraft carrying armed security details for regional leaders ahead of unity talks.
Puntland, Jubaland and Somaliland control the ports, airports and counterterrorism assets that make them natural interlocutors as Mogadishu’s leverage erodes. Each has calibrated its response differently:
Puntland frames US engagement as validation of its role as security partner and investment gateway, pairing counter-ISIS gains in the Calmiskaad mountains with a “trade, not aid” pitch on minerals, fisheries and hydrocarbons. It has previously used access as leverage when it felt sidelined, and its withdrawal of recognition from Mogadishu signals it will keep doing so.
Jubaland stays close to Washington on counter-Al-Shabaab cooperation while keeping its language studiously “national unity” rather than separatist — pragmatic hedging rather than open rupture with Mogadishu.
Somaliland folds every high-level US visit into its long-running case for recognition, pointing to its elections and to Berbera’s port as evidence it is the more reliable partner — even as Washington officially maintains a “one Somalia” policy.
Across all three, the pattern is the same: public hospitality toward the US, private conditionality on funding and control, and hedging against a Mogadishu that may lose both AUSSOM’s backing and Washington’s patience at the same time.
Humanitarian and security stakes
Roughly 6.5 million Somalis face acute food insecurity in 2026, and any degradation of AUSSOM’s footprint risks further restricting humanitarian access in contested areas. Al-Shabaab retains the capacity to exploit reduced patrols and delayed logistics, and localized clan competition over land and water continues independent of the national-level crisis.
Three scenarios
Managed drawdown with regional compacts. Kampala produces a stop-gap financing plan, and the US formalizes bilateral security arrangements with the federal member states — stabilizing Somalia around a patchwork of externally backed regional security zones as Mogadishu’s authority narrows.
Operational contraction, insurgent gains. Without alternative financing, AUSSOM contracts to major towns, ceding rural ground to Al-Shabaab and worsening humanitarian access.
Political rupture. Deepening federal-regional mistrust — already visible in Puntland’s withdrawal of recognition — hardens into parallel governance, with federal member states and Somaliland negotiating security and economic arrangements directly with external partners, bypassing Mogadishu altogether.
The center is losing its monopoly on both security and aid. Increasingly, the Horn’s next chapter is being written as much in Garoowe, Kismayo and Hargeysa as in Mogadishu — and in Kampala’s emergency planning for AUSSOM’s survival.

What Sharmarke has actually said publicly (as of this week)

His recent public statements have been about de-escalation, not confrontation. He said he does not believe Puntland will declare itself independent, arguing that the current political tensions require dialogue and consensus  (Hiiraan Online) , and said Puntland’s grievances with the Federal Government of Somalia should be addressed through political engagement rather than confrontation  (Hiiraan Online) . Just yesterday, he warned against a possible armed conflict in Galkacyo, arguing that Puntland authorities should not use military force against other Puntland Security Forces without a clear legal reason  (Puntlandpost) , and urged Puntland authorities to exercise restraint, stressing that the situation required dialogue, de-escalation and a negotiated settlement rather than military action (RaxanReeb). 

Worth noting: this was an opinion/commentary piece, and its claims about Sharmarke’s stance don’t fully align with his most recent public statements (which have emphasized dialogue and restraint).

Ali Mahdi Noor

Instead of serving as a moderating and unifying voice during a politically sensitive period, former Somali Prime Minister Omar Abdirashid Ali Sharmarke has come under criticism from political opponents and sections of the Puntland community. They argue that his perceived sympathy for irregular armed groups and extra-institutional political mobilisation risks undermining constitutional authority, deepening political divisions, and destabilising Puntland.
To these critics, the contradiction is difficult to ignore. A former Prime Minister, twice entrusted with defending the Constitution and the rule of law, is now seen as favouring political confrontation over constitutional process. They contend that experienced statesmen should strengthen institutions, encourage dialogue, and uphold democratic norms—not contribute to political polarisation.
Critics further argue that supporting leaders accused of seeking unconstitutional extensions of their mandates is incompatible with democratic governance. In their view, political legitimacy flows from constitutional order, accountable institutions, respect for term limits, and peaceful transfers of power—not personal loyalties or political strategies that inflame division.
Some also contend that Mr. Sharmarke has aligned himself too closely with President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s political agenda, raising questions about the independence and impartiality expected of a former national leader. They point to persistent allegations of patronage politics, arguing that, whether ultimately substantiated or not, such perceptions weaken public confidence in democratic institutions and the integrity of political leadership.
At its core, the debate is about the responsibility of former national leaders. Those who have occupied the country’s highest offices are expected to defend constitutional governance, reinforce institutional stability, and promote national reconciliation. Critics argue that any departure from those principles risks deepening political tensions rather than resolving them.
History rarely remembers leaders for their political alliances or short-term victories. It remembers those who defended the Constitution when it was under pressure, protected the rule of law when it was inconvenient, and placed the national interest above partisan calculations. That, ultimately, is the constitutional test of statesmanship.

Abdiladif Ahmed

Recent reports have intensified political debate amid claims of travel-related restrictions involving individuals connected to senior Somali leadership, reportedly linked to actions by Kenyan authorities. The developments have drawn significant public attention following earlier controversies involving senior Somali officials.

The reports include allegations relating to financial activities and other matters involving certain individuals; however, these claims remain unverified, and no official statements have been issued by the individuals concerned or the Somali Federal Government.

Broader Governance Concerns

These developments have renewed debate among political commentators and policy analysts about governance and institutional accountability in Somalia. Critics argue that political patronage, nepotism, and clan-based considerations have, at times, undermined merit-based appointments and institutional performance.

More broadly, controversies involving senior officials can affect public trust, institutional credibility, and a country’s international standing, including its diplomatic relations with partners such as Kenya. Effective governance depends not only on individual conduct but also on transparent vetting processes, independent oversight, and adherence to the rule of law.

Where serious allegations arise, they require impartial investigation, due process, and clear public communication. Ultimately, government credibility rests on its ability to enforce accountability consistently, uphold institutional integrity, and ensure that public office is guided by competence and the national interest.

Abdiladif Ahmed

Somalia deserves a government where competence unlocks opportunity, integrity commands respect, and public office is treated as a constitutional trust—not a political inheritance. Instead, governance increasingly resembles a patronage marketplace in which loyalty is the favored currency and merit is asked to wait outside the door.

President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s administration, many experts argue, has too often prioritized political patronage over merit. When allegiance becomes the main qualification for public office, institutions stop serving the Republic and begin serving political interests. The predictable results are weakened governance, eroded public trust, and institutions that spend more time preserving alliances than solving national problems.

Somalia has already paid a steep price for authoritarianism, corruption, nepotism, political exclusion, and clan-based polarization. Those are not proud chapters to be repeated; they are lessons that demand to be remembered. A nation that persistently rewards the same governance failures should not be surprised when it inherits the same crises. Repeating yesterday’s mistakes will not build a different future.

Concerns from Somali scholars, constitutional experts, and policy analysts reinforce this warning. Disputes over electoral processes and constitutional governance risk eroding legitimacy, widening political divisions, and straining relations between the Federal Government and several Federal Member States, including Puntland and Jubbaland. A federation cannot be strengthened by governing through perpetual constitutional confrontation.

No country has appointed itself into prosperity by sidelining competence. Corruption does not become reform because it is wrapped in polished rhetoric. Nepotism does not become reconciliation because it is spoken with patriotic language. Political favoritism does not become state-building because it is labeled strategic leadership. A different slogan cannot disguise the same old machinery.

Somalia’s greatest asset has never been political patronage. It lies in honest professionals, dedicated civil servants, entrepreneurs, scholars, constitutional lawyers, security specialists, innovators, and young people whose talents far exceed their political connections. Yet merit too often waits in the wings while loyalty walks straight into positions of influence.

The real national loss is not another controversial appointment; it is the quiet departure of talent, the steady politicization of institutions, and the normalization of mediocrity. Every qualified candidate overlooked weakens state capacity. Every institution subordinated to political convenience weakens the nation itself.

History is unforgiving. It rarely recalls how many loyalists a leader appointed; it remembers whether institutions became stronger or weaker, whether the rule of law expanded or contracted, and whether the nation emerged more united or more divided. Patronage may buy today’s political comfort; only meritocracy earns tomorrow’s respect.

Analysts also warn of threats to institutional resilience: allegations of extremist infiltration into public institutions and rising political mistrust within the federal system. These risks transcend party lines and require transparent investigation, credible safeguards, and evidence-based policies. Ignoring structural vulnerabilities is not a viable national-security strategy.

For these reasons Somalia’s intellectual community cannot afford the silence of neutrality. Academics, constitutional lawyers, policy experts, civil society leaders, and professionals have a civic duty to defend constitutional governance, institutional independence, accountability, and evidence-based policymaking. Their loyalty should belong neither to personalities nor factions, but to the Constitution, the State, and the Somali people.

Somalia does not need a political culture in which surnames eclipse qualifications, access substitutes for ability, and proximity to power displaces professional excellence. It does not need unity that is applauded in speeches while patronage weakens institutions. The country needs leadership that values competence over connections, institutions over personalities, accountability over convenience, and the national interest over partisan calculation.

Ultimately, leadership should be judged not by how many allies are rewarded with office but by the quality of institutions left behind. States are not built on patronage networks or political indebtedness. They are built on merit, protected by the rule of law, reinforced by accountability, and sustained by leaders who treat public office as a responsibility—not a private franchise.

Abdiladif Ahmed

By WDM
The battle is still underway.
The United States and Israel may have succeeded in decapitating much of Iran’s senior political and military leadership. By any conventional military standard, that was an extraordinary tactical achievement.
Yet the war has not ended.
Instead, Iran’s regime remains intact, its armed forces continue to fight, and Tehran appears more assertive than before. Rather than collapsing under the weight of the initial assault, Iran has demonstrated that removing leaders does not necessarily remove a state’s capacity—or determination—to resist.
The strategic centre of gravity has now shifted to the Strait of Hormuz. With Iran asserting control over the waterway and the United States attempting to enforce its own maritime blockade, one of the world’s most critical energy corridors has become the principal battlefield. The consequences extend far beyond the Middle East, affecting global trade, energy markets, and international security.
This is the paradox of modern warfare.
Winning the opening battle does not guarantee winning the war.
If the objective was to force Iran into strategic submission, that objective remains unfulfilled. Instead, the conflict has entered a prolonged contest of endurance, deterrence, and economic pressure.
History repeatedly reminds us that tactical brilliance does not automatically produce strategic success. A government can lose its leaders and still retain its will to fight.
The decisive question is no longer who struck first or who struck hardest.
It is who can outlast the other politically, economically, and militarily.
The Middle East war is therefore far from over.
The opening strikes may have rewritten the battlefield.
The final outcome will be decided by who controls the strategic consequences.

A Story Almost Impossible to Imagine in Somalia

According to a widely shared account, the wife of Denmark’s prime minister was employed as a teacher at a public school. After concerns were raised about her performance, the school principal summoned her to an official disciplinary meeting.
As is common in such proceedings, she chose to bring someone to accompany her as a witness. That person happened to be her husband—the Prime Minister of Denmark.
The outcome was remarkable. Despite the presence of the country’s most powerful elected official, the meeting concluded with the teacher being dismissed from her job. Even more striking, the media and political opposition questioned whether the prime minister should have attended at all, arguing that his presence could be interpreted as an attempt to influence the disciplinary process.
Now imagine the same scenario in Somalia.
The questions would be very different:
How could a school principal even summon the prime minister’s wife?
If she were summoned, would the meeting genuinely focus on her professional shortcomings?
If the prime minister attended, who would dare dismiss her?
More fundamentally, how could the spouse of a sitting prime minister even hold an ordinary teaching job without attracting accusations of favouritism or political privilege?
The contrast goes beyond two individuals. It reflects two very different political cultures. In one, public office is expected to remain separate from the rule of law and institutional decision-making. In the other, state power is too often seen as a shield against accountability rather than a responsibility to uphold it.
That difference may explain more about governance than a thousand political speeches.

—–
Source: Abdirahman Hassan Anteeno. Relayed by Ahmed Farah Yare

Have We Met? Community Liaison Abdirahman Omar Reflects on the Intersection of Football, Heritage, and Immigrant Life in Seattle

By WDM | Commentary and Critical Analysis

والمـال إن لم تدخره محصنا بالعلــم كـان نهايـة
الإمـــــلاق
والعلــم إن لم تكتنفه شمائــل تعليه كان مطيـــة الإخـفــــاق
لا تحسبن العلــم
ينفع وحـــده مـا لم يتـوج ربــــه أخلاق

هذه الأبيات الشعرية تعبر عن أهمية العلم وال أخلاق والمال. إليك ترجمتها بكلمات واضحة وبسيطة:
المال والعلم: المال يحتاج إلى علم ليحفظه، والعلم يحتاج إلى أخلاق ليرتفع شأنه.الأخلاق: العلم وحده لا يكفي إن لم تكن معه أخلاق حسنة.هل تريد مني أن أشرح لك معنى هذه الأبيات أكثر أو أساعدك في ترجمة نصوص أخرى؟

Suudi Yalaxow, a Somali warlord-turned a Federal Senator without a formal education once said, “Aqoontu naf ay gashay rabtaa” ( education needs a character to live in).

One of the finest lessons preserved in classical Arabic poetry is that wealth, knowledge, and character are inseparable foundations of a successful life and a prosperous nation.
The poet teaches that wealth without knowledge eventually disappears into poverty. Knowledge without noble character becomes a vehicle for failure. And knowledge alone is of little value unless it is crowned with ethics.
That timeless wisdom speaks directly to our age.
Today, societies celebrate academic degrees, professional titles, and financial success. Yet corruption thrives, institutions weaken, and public trust evaporates. The problem is not a shortage of educated people. It is a shortage of educated people with integrity.
A dishonest lawyer can pervert justice. A corrupt engineer can endanger lives. An unethical politician can destroy a nation. Intelligence without morality is not a blessing—it is a national liability.
The same is true of wealth. Money can build schools, hospitals, businesses, and opportunities. But without knowledge and integrity, it becomes an instrument of greed, patronage, and corruption.
This is why education must be more than the transfer of information. Its highest purpose is to cultivate honesty, humility, discipline, and a sense of public duty. A society that rewards credentials while neglecting character is preparing its own decline.
The Arab poet understood centuries ago what many modern leaders still fail to grasp:
The true crown of knowledge is not a diploma, but character. The true guardian of wealth is not a bank, but wisdom. And the true foundation of a great nation is neither money nor education alone, but the integrity that gives both their purpose.

——

Ahmed Farah Yare contributed to this commentary.

By Dr. Abucar Aden Adde

Virginia, USA.

History warns those who are willing to listen.

In his study of Fascist Italy’s colonial ambitions, Dr. Abucar Aden Adde draws attention to an entry in Galeazzo Ciano’s diary in which Benito Mussolini reportedly discussed the possibility of turning Majeerteenia (Migiurtinia) into a concession for international Jewish settlement because of its strategic location and natural resources. Whether such a proposal was ever realistic is less important than what it reveals: powerful states have long viewed Somali territory through the prism of their own interests. Ref: (https://ismailwarsame.blog/2026/07/24/when-fascist-europe-looked-to-puntland-a-forgotten-diplomatic-note-and-the-strategic-value-of-majeerteenia-2/).

The lesson is timeless. Somalia’s sovereignty has never been guaranteed by geography alone. It has depended—and still depends—on the strength, unity, and vision of its own people.

Today, Somalia’s greatest danger is not an invading army or a foreign conspiracy. It is internal weakness. Political fragmentation, corruption, fragile institutions, clan rivalries, and the absence of long-term national vision have created openings that external actors naturally exploit. Weak states invite influence; strong states command respect.

Too much of Somali politics remains trapped in short-term survival. Leaders compete for power rather than build institutions. Clan calculations outweigh national priorities. Personal ambition replaces public service. As trust in government declines, the state’s ability to defend its sovereignty weakens.

Foreign governments will always pursue their own strategic, economic, and security interests. That is the nature of international politics. Somalia’s responsibility is not to expect others to safeguard its sovereignty, but to build institutions capable of safeguarding it itself.

Somalia possesses extraordinary advantages: the longest coastline on mainland Africa, vast marine resources, a youthful population, and a strategic location linking Africa, the Middle East, and the Indian Ocean. But potential without vision produces little. Prosperity requires competent leadership, accountable institutions, and a shared commitment to the national interest.

The warning preserved in Ciano’s diary is therefore not about a proposal that never materialized. It is about a political truth that remains relevant today: weak states invite outside designs.

Somalia’s future will not be decided in foreign capitals. It will be decided by whether Somalis choose unity over division, institutions over personalities, merit over patronage, and national vision over clan politics.

History has already delivered its warning. The responsibility now belongs to this generation.

Warsame Policy & Media Network (WAPMEN)
Critical analysis, news and commentaries

A WPMEN Editorial — July 24, 2026

History has an uncomfortable habit of exposing truths that modern politics prefers to ignore. One such truth lies buried in an obscure Italian diplomatic note from 1938 — only a few lines long, yet revealing how the world’s great powers once viewed what is today Puntland.

In his diary entry of 30 August 1938, Italian Foreign Minister Galeazzo Ciano recorded a striking conversation with Benito Mussolini. According to Ciano’s account, the Duce spoke of a plan to turn Migiurtinia into a concession for international Jewish settlement, citing the region’s considerable natural resources as grounds for exploitation.

This was not an offhand remark. It came at the highest levels of Fascist Italy, at a moment when Europe was marching toward the Second World War — while Mussolini was weighing Hitler’s designs on Czechoslovakia, he was also contemplating the future of Migiurtinia (Majeerteenia) in northeastern Somalia.

The significance is hard to overstate. The region was not viewed as a barren colonial outpost; it was regarded as territory with genuine economic value — an assessment made by the colonial administration itself, an authority whose only real interest was extracting profit from conquered land.

A Region Undervalued by Its Own

Today, many Somalis casually dismiss Puntland as merely another federal member state. Yet eighty-eight years ago, one of Europe’s most expansionist regimes considered the region significant enough to feature in high-level geopolitical planning. That contrast should prompt some hard questions: What did Italian colonial planners understand about Puntland’s economic potential that successive Somali governments have failed to investigate or develop? Why did foreign powers recognize strategic value in the region while contemporary Somali politics remained — and remains — mired in clan rivalry and constitutional dispute?

History repeatedly shows that outsiders often see a country’s value before its own leaders do. Puntland sits on one of the world’s most strategically important maritime crossroads, commanding the approaches to the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean. Its coastline runs more than 1,600 kilometres, and it holds rich fisheries, untapped mineral prospects, hydrocarbon potential, and direct access to one of the busiest trade corridors on Earth. None of this is a recent discovery — colonial planners understood it nearly a century ago.

Strategic Value and the Roots of Federalism

The 1938 note also sheds light on something else that is often overlooked: Puntland’s role as the principal champion of a federal Somalia was not a political accident. It was grounded in the region’s own history and geography. For centuries, the Majeerteen Sultanate maintained functioning political institutions, maritime commerce, and diplomatic relations with foreign powers. Italy’s own assessment of the region’s strategic and economic worth — Mussolini’s remark included — was simply another acknowledgment of what was never an ordinary colonial possession.

When the Somali state collapsed in 1991, Puntland’s founders did not call for a return to an all-powerful centralized government. They understood, from hard experience, that concentrating authority in Mogadishu had repeatedly produced instability, exclusion, and eventual collapse. Instead, they envisioned a Somalia built on the devolution of power, constitutional power-sharing, and regional self-government within a united state — a vision rooted in historical reality, not emotion or opportunism. A region that had long exercised meaningful political autonomy, and understood its own strategic worth, naturally concluded that Somalia’s future depended on sharing power rather than monopolizing it.

Puntland’s founding in 1998, and its sustained advocacy for federalism since, therefore amounted to more than a regional political project — it became the intellectual and constitutional blueprint for rebuilding Somalia after civil war. Whatever one thinks of federalism today, it is hard to deny that this vision emerged from lived historical experience rather than political convenience.

A Missed Strategic Opportunity

There is a real irony here: Fascist Italy recognized Puntland’s importance almost ninety years ago, however cynically, in service of imperial ambition — yet many Somali politicians today still underestimate the very region that supplied the constitutional framework on which modern Somalia now rests. Rather than building institutions capable of unlocking this potential, successive governments have spent their energy on political intrigue, centralization battles, and zero-sum struggles for power.

The note is also a reminder that Somalia has never existed in geopolitical isolation. External powers have always viewed Somali territory through a strategic lens — sometimes military bases, sometimes maritime routes, sometimes natural resources, and, as this note suggests, occasionally even demographic engineering.

To be clear, the lesson here is not that Mussolini’s proposal deserved consideration — it did not. It emerged from a fascist colonial worldview that treated occupied territories as assets to be disposed of without the consent of the people living there, a mentality that belongs in history’s museum of failed empires. The real lesson is different: if colonial powers saw Puntland as strategically indispensable in 1938, why have so many Somali leaders since failed to grasp its importance? Why has nearly a century passed without a coherent national strategy for developing one of the Horn of Africa’s most strategically located regions?

Conclusion

A nation that forgets how others once valued its territory risks undervaluing it itself. History is not simply about remembering the past — it is about understanding why powerful states make the decisions they do. The Fascists saw value in Majeerteenia because they were thinking strategically, even though their objectives were morally bankrupt. Modern Somali leaders can learn that strategic lesson without inheriting the colonial mindset behind it.

Puntland is not strategically important because Mussolini said so. His words matter only because they inadvertently confirm what serious geopolitical planners already understood: northeastern Somalia occupied an important place on the world’s strategic map long before today’s political disputes existed. Its later role as the champion of a devolved, federal Somalia was no historical accident — it was the logical political expression of a region whose history, geography, and institutional traditions had long set it apart within the Somali peninsula.

That reality has not changed. What has changed is the quality of leadership entrusted with managing it. The evidence is there. The question is whether Somalia is prepared to learn from it — or will keep letting others recognize Puntland’s value before its own leaders do.

It is politically convenient to blame Hassan Sheikh Mohamud for Somalia’s collapse. He deserves criticism for executive overreach, constitutional manipulation, and weakening democratic institutions. But to pretend that Somalia’s crisis begins and ends with one man is to misunderstand the disease.
Somalia’s governance crisis is a collective failure. All of us as citizens have failed.
The presidents of the Federal Member States cannot wash their hands of responsibility. Many condemned authoritarianism only after it turned against them. Before that, they tolerated it, legitimized it, or quietly benefited from it. No story illustrates this better than that of Abdulaziz Hassan Mohamed “Lafta Gareen.” He stood firmly behind Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s political project as Villa Somalia steadily accumulated power. The weakening of constitutional checks and balances did not alarm him because the system appeared to serve his own interests. But power built on expediency rarely remains loyal. Once Lafta Gareen had served his political purpose, he too found himself cast aside by the very system he had helped sustain.
The lesson should not be lost on Sheikh Aden Madoobe, who now occupies the position Lafta Gareen once held through a political process widely criticized by opponents. Those who believe proximity to Villa Somalia guarantees political survival should study Somalia’s recent history carefully. Nor should Ahmed Abdi Kaariye “Qoor Qoor” ignore the warning. His current political difficulties increasingly resemble the trajectory that ended Lafta Gareen’s dominance. In Somalia’s politics, today’s trusted ally can become tomorrow’s expendable liability once political calculations change. The machinery of unconstitutional power has no permanent beneficiaries—it eventually consumes many of those who helped build it.
As Villa Somalia accumulated power, other regional leaders also remained silent because the same concentration of power served their own political interests. Federalism was never meant to produce miniature dictatorships. Yet that is precisely what much of Somalia has become.
Nor are international donors innocent bystanders.
For years, billions of dollars have poured into Somalia in the name of state-building, while institutions remained weak and political elites became stronger. Too often, aid has reinforced patronage networks instead of dismantling them. Stability became the overriding objective; accountability became an afterthought. The result is a political economy in which access to donor resources matters more than delivering public services or respecting constitutional governance.
This is why replacing Hassan Sheikh Mohamud alone will solve nothing.
If the same political culture survives, the next president will inherit—and likely exploit—the very same machinery of patronage, elite bargaining, and institutional capture. Somalia does not merely have a leadership problem; it has a governance system that rewards impunity and punishes accountability.
The country needs more than a change of faces. It needs a return to constitutional rule, genuine checks and balances, empowered legislatures, an independent judiciary, transparent federal-state relations, and donor assistance tied to measurable institutional reforms rather than political expediency.
Until federal leaders, regional presidents, and international partners all accept their share of responsibility, Somalia will continue to change presidents while preserving the very system that keeps failing its people.
The tragedy is not that one leader has failed. The tragedy is that an entire political class—and too many of its international partners—have learned how to survive by managing failure instead of ending it. Unless that political culture changes, Lafta Gareen will not be the last ally to discover that unconstitutional power protects no one—not even those who once believed they were indispensable.

A WDM Editorial

History has an uncomfortable habit of exposing truths that modern politics prefers to ignore. One such truth lies buried in an obscure Italian diplomatic note from 1938. It is only a few lines long, yet it speaks volumes about how the world’s great powers once viewed what is today Puntland.
In his diary entry of 30 August 1938, Italian Foreign Minister Galeazzo Ciano recorded a remarkable conversation with Benito Mussolini:

The Translation of the note:
“The Duce… also informs me of his plan to make Migiurtinia a concession for international Jews. He says that the country has considerable natural resources that the Jews could exploit…”

Pause and think about that.
This was not an offhand remark. It was a discussion taking place at the highest levels of Fascist Italy while Europe was marching toward the Second World War. Mussolini was simultaneously discussing Adolf Hitler’s plans over Czechoslovakia and contemplating the future of Migiurtinia (Majeerteenia) in northeastern Somalia.
The significance is profound.
The region was not viewed as a barren colonial outpost. It was regarded as a territory possessing “considerable natural resources.” That assessment came from the colonial administration itself—people whose primary interest was extracting economic value from conquered lands.
Today, many Somalis casually dismiss Puntland as merely another federal member state. Yet eighty-eight years ago, one of Europe’s most expansionist regimes considered the region sufficiently valuable to feature in high-level geopolitical planning.
This should force Somalis to ask difficult questions.
What did Italian colonial planners know about Puntland’s economic potential that successive Somali governments have failed to investigate or develop? Why were foreign powers already identifying strategic value in the region while contemporary Somali politics remains trapped in endless clan rivalries and constitutional disputes?
History repeatedly demonstrates that outsiders often recognize the value of a country before its own leaders do.
Puntland occupies one of the world’s most strategic maritime locations. It commands the approaches to the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean. Its coastline stretches for more than 1,600 kilometres. It possesses rich fisheries, untapped mineral prospects, hydrocarbon potential, and access to one of the world’s busiest maritime trade corridors.
These are not recent discoveries. Colonial planners understood them nearly a century ago.
The 1938 diplomatic note also illuminates another historical reality that many observers continue to overlook. Puntland’s emergence as the principal champion of a federal Somalia was not an accident of modern politics. It was grounded in its own history, geography, and strategic importance.
For centuries, the Majeerteen Sultanate maintained functioning political institutions, maritime commerce, and diplomatic relations with foreign powers. During the colonial period, Italy itself regarded the region as strategically valuable because of its location and natural wealth. Mussolini’s reference to Migiurtinia was yet another acknowledgment that this was no ordinary colonial possession.
When the Somali state collapsed in 1991, Puntland’s founders did not advocate the return of an all-powerful centralized government. They understood from history that concentrating authority in Mogadishu had repeatedly produced instability, exclusion, and eventually state collapse. Instead, they envisioned a new Somalia based on the devolution of power, constitutional power-sharing, and regional self-government within a united Somali state.
That vision was neither emotional nor opportunistic. It reflected historical reality. A region that had long exercised significant political autonomy and understood its strategic value naturally concluded that Somalia’s future depended upon sharing power rather than monopolizing it.
The establishment of Puntland in 1998 and its subsequent advocacy for federalism therefore represented far more than a regional political project. It became the intellectual and constitutional blueprint for rebuilding Somalia after civil war. Whether one supports or opposes federalism today, it is impossible to deny that Puntland’s federal vision emerged from historical experience rather than political expediency.
Ironically, while Fascist Italy recognized Puntland’s strategic importance almost ninety years ago for imperial ambitions, many Somali politicians today continue to underestimate the very region that supplied the constitutional framework upon which modern Somalia now rests.
Unfortunately, Somalia’s political class has rarely demonstrated comparable strategic thinking. Instead of building institutions capable of unlocking this immense potential, successive governments have devoted their energies to political intrigue, centralization battles, and zero-sum struggles for power.
The 1938 diplomatic note also reminds us that Somalia has never existed in geopolitical isolation. External powers have always viewed Somali territory through strategic calculations. Sometimes those calculations involved military bases. Sometimes maritime routes. Sometimes natural resources. Occasionally, as this note suggests, even demographic engineering.
The lesson is not that Mussolini’s proposal deserved consideration—it did not. It emerged from a fascist colonial worldview that treated occupied territories as assets to be disposed of without the consent of their inhabitants. That mentality belongs in history’s museum of failed empires.
The real lesson is different.
If colonial powers regarded Puntland as strategically indispensable in 1938, why do so many Somali leaders today fail to appreciate its importance? Why has nearly a century passed without a coherent national strategy for developing one of the Horn of Africa’s most strategically located regions?
A nation that forgets how others valued its territory risks undervaluing it itself.
History is not merely about remembering the past. It is about understanding why powerful states make the decisions they do. The Fascists saw value in Majeerteenia because they were thinking strategically—even if their objectives were morally bankrupt.
Modern Somali leaders should learn the strategic lesson without inheriting the colonial mindset.
Puntland is not strategically important because Mussolini said so. Mussolini’s words matter because they inadvertently reveal what serious geopolitical planners already understood: northeastern Somalia occupied an important place on the world’s strategic map long before today’s political disputes.
The fact that Puntland later envisioned and championed a new Somalia based on the devolution of power was therefore no historical accident. It was the logical political expression of a region whose historical experience, strategic location, and institutional traditions had long distinguished it within the Somali peninsula.
That reality has not changed.
What has changed is the quality of leadership entrusted with managing it.
History has preserved the evidence. The question is whether Somalia is prepared to learn from it—or continue allowing others to recognize the value of Puntland before its own leaders do.

By Ismail H. Warsame

Somalia did not adopt federalism because politicians suddenly embraced decentralization. It adopted federalism because centralized rule destroyed the Somali state. The Provisional Constitution was meant to ensure that no government in Mogadishu could again dominate the rest of the country through patronage, coercion, or clan politics.
Yet that is precisely what many Somalis now fear is happening.
The growing accusation against President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud is not simply one of political interference. It is the allegation that he is governing through what many call the “Goofka doctrine”—a politics that elevates clan loyalty above constitutional federalism and seeks to extend Mogadishu’s influence by cultivating loyalists inside the Federal Member States.
South West State is widely seen by critics as politically subdued. Jubaland has resisted repeated attempts at federal pressure. Puntland now believes it has become the next target, with fears that Mogadishu is searching for local proxies to divide the state from within rather than confront it openly.
Whether every allegation is true is almost secondary.
The real danger is that Somalia’s unfinished Constitution makes such accusations entirely believable.
Where constitutional powers remain undefined, patronage replaces law. Where institutions are weak, political clients become more valuable than constitutional partners. Every federal vacuum eventually becomes an opportunity for political capture.
Puntland must therefore remain vigilant. Garowe and Bosaso should pay close attention to attempts at candidate engineering, security manipulation, financial dependency, and narrative warfare disguised as “national unity.” Federal cooperation must never become federal subordination.
But Puntland must also avoid a familiar trap. Not every governance failure can be blamed on Mogadishu. Corruption, weak administration, and political complacency cannot be excused by invoking external conspiracies.
Both Villa Somalia and the Federal Member States have constitutional obligations.
The centre must stop treating federal states as political territories to be conquered.
The regions must stop treating federalism as a shield against accountability.
Somalia’s future depends on neither central domination nor perpetual regional confrontation. It depends on completing the federal project: clarifying constitutional powers, strengthening independent institutions, respecting regional autonomy, and ending the politics of clan patronage.
The greatest threat to Somalia today is not one politician.
It is the belief that constitutions can be replaced by loyalists.
Once that becomes the accepted rule of politics, federalism survives only on paper—and Somalia risks repeating the very mistakes that caused the collapse of the state.