Introduction
Puntland State of Somalia, established in 1998 as a beacon of stability and decentralized governance, once prided itself on its aspiration to create a “smaller and smarter” government. Yet, recent accounts from residents like Dahir, a diaspora returnee to Garowe, paint a troubling picture of institutional decay, clan favouritism, and bureaucratic bloat under President Said Abdullahi Deni’s administration. Dahir’s stories—of a justice system held hostage by bribery, a police force paralyzed by clan loyalties, and a government expanding while services crumble—highlight systemic failures that betray Puntland’s founding principles. This essay examines the dual crises of under-resourced institutions and clan-based governance, alongside the contradictions of unchecked governmental growth, to explore why Puntland risks squandering its promise as a model of local governance.

Institutional Fragility and the Cycle of Corruption
Puntland’s struggle to uphold law and order begins with its skeletal institutional framework. As Dahir observed, even basic public services like policing are crippled by a lack of operational funds and trained personnel. When a teenager’s misconduct requires familial bribes to resolve—rather than formal legal processes—it underscores a system reliant on informal negotiations, not rule of law. Such scenarios are symptomatic of broader dysfunction: police departments lack vehicles, stations lack electricity, and officers go unpaid for months. This vacuum of resources fosters corruption, as underpaid officials turn to extortion or clan patronage to survive.
The problem extends beyond the police. Health clinics, courts, and municipal offices suffer similar neglect, perpetuating a cycle where citizens lose faith in state structures. Without funding, institutions cannot attract skilled professionals or implement reforms, leaving Puntland’s governance trapped in a self-defeating loop of incapacity.

Clan Loyalty vs. State Authority
Compounding institutional weakness is the infiltration of clan identity into state apparatuses. In Garowe, the police force’s homogeneity—recruited predominantly from a single sub-clan—erodes impartiality. Officers hesitate to act against kin, while victims from rival clans face bias. This subversion of meritocracy undermines trust in the state, as seen in the teenager’s case: justice becomes a transactional commodity, contingent on clan ties and bribes rather than accountability.
Puntland’s founders envisioned a government transcending clan divisions, but in practice, clan loyalty often supersedes civic duty. Such nepotism not only weakens law enforcement but also deters investment and diaspora repatriation, as Dahir’s disillusionment suggests. When state roles are clan sinecures, competence and public trust erode.

The Irony of Expansion: Bigger Government, Weaker Governance
Paradoxically, President Deni’s administration has prioritized expanding bureaucratic structures—creating redundant agencies and overlapping mandates—while core institutions starve. Ministries multiply, but budgets remain opaque, and coordination falters. This growth, critics argue, serves political patronage, rewarding allies with government posts rather than addressing systemic flaws.
The original vision of a lean, efficient government has given way to bloat, mirroring failures of larger federal states. Expansion without investment in capacity or oversight exacerbates inefficiency: more departments compete for scarce funds, deepening service delivery gaps. Meanwhile, Deni’s focus on contentious issues like federal disputes with Mogadishu diverts attention from grassroots governance needs.

Conclusion: Reclaiming the Promise of Decentralization
Puntland’s crises are not insurmountable but demand urgent recalibration. First, institutional capacity must be rebuilt through budget prioritization, diaspora engagement, and international partnerships focused on training and infrastructure. Second, clan-neutral recruitment and anti-corruption measures are critical to restoring faith in state institutions. Finally, the government must halt counterproductive expansion, streamlining agencies to align with its original “smaller and smarter” ethos.
Dahir’s story is a microcosm of Puntland’s crossroads: a region struggling to balance tradition with modernity, clan with citizenship, and growth with governance. Without addressing these tensions, Puntland risks becoming a cautionary tale—a state that expanded its bureaucracy but forgot its people. The path forward lies not in mimicking failed models but in reclaiming the innovative, pragmatic spirit that once made it a Somali success story.

The question of whether a nation can be built on ethnic or regional hatred is not merely theoretical; it is a lived reality in Somalia. Since its independence in 1960, Somalia has grappled with the contradictions of a state that aspired to pan-Somali unity while being fractured by clan divisions, authoritarian rule, and regional marginalization. The legacies of military dictator Siyad Barre (1969–1991), followed by the polarizing policies of Presidents Mohamed Abdullahi Farmajo (2017–2022) and Hassan Sheikh Mohamud (2022–present), have entrenched a system of governance that prioritizes clan-based power struggles over inclusive nation-building. The resulting tensions, particularly between the Federal Government of Somalia (FGS) in Mogadishu and the semi-autonomous Puntland State, reveal a profound crisis of legitimacy. For many in Puntland, the failure of successive Mogadishu regimes to address systemic marginalization has made confederation—a political arrangement granting maximal autonomy within a looser union—a compelling alternative to the current dysfunctional federalism. This essay examines how Somalia’s history of centralized oppression, clan politics, and regional neglect has fueled calls for confederation, arguing that such a model may offer a pragmatic path to stability, albeit one fraught with challenges.
Historical Context: From Barre’s Clan Tyranny to Fractured Federalism

1. Siyad Barre’s Divisive Legacy
The collapse of Somali statehood can not be understood without examining the regime of Siyad Barre. Initially celebrated for his nationalist rhetoric and modernization efforts, Barre’s dictatorship devolved into a system of clan-based repression. By the 1980s, his regime targeted specific clans, notably the Isaaq in the northwest (now Somaliland) and the Majeerteen in the northeast (Puntland), through massacres, forced displacements, and economic exclusion. The state became a tool of vengeance against perceived rivals, eroding trust in centralized governance. Barre’s overthrow in 1991 plunged Somalia into civil war, fragmenting the country into clan fiefdoms and sowing the seeds of enduring regional resentment.

2. The Illusion of Federalism
Post-2000 efforts to rebuild Somalia through federalism—a system enshrined in the 2012 Provisional Constitution—were well-intentioned but flawed. Federalism aimed to balance power between Mogadishu and regional states, recognizing the diversity of Somalia’s clans and regions. However, in practice, federalism has been co-opted by Mogadishu-based elites who manipulate clan divisions to maintain control. Under Farmajo, the FGS weaponized federalism by withholding resources from non-aligned regions, interfering in local elections, and centralizing security and financial institutions. Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s administration has continued this trend, prioritizing political survival over equitable power-sharing.

Puntland’s Grievances: Marginalization and the Failure of Federalism
Puntland, established in 1998 as Somalia’s first autonomous state, has long positioned itself as a champion of decentralized governance. Its leadership argues that Mogadishu’s failure to honor federal principles has made confederation—a system where regions retain sovereignty over most affairs—a necessity. Key grievances include:

1. Economic Exclusion
Puntland, rich in resources such as fisheries, livestock, and potential hydrocarbons, accuses Mogadishu of monopolizing international aid and revenue. For instance, the FGS has consistently blocked Puntland from directly engaging with foreign partners or accessing its fair share of donor funds. This economic stranglehold stifles development and fuels perceptions of colonial-style extraction.
2. Political Marginalization
Puntland boycotted the 2021–2022 electoral process, citing Mogadishu’s refusal to implement a one-person, one-vote model and its interference in regional politics. The FGS’s unilateral extension of its mandate in 2021 further alienated Puntland, which views such actions as unconstitutional power grabs.

3. Security Neglect
While Puntland shoulders the burden of combating terrorism (e.g., ISIS affiliates in the Galgala mountains), Mogadishu often withholds support for regional security forces. The FGS’s focus on centralizing the Somali National Army (SNA) undermines local counterterrorism efforts, leaving Puntland State to defend itself alone. This neglect is starkly evident in Mogadishu’s refusal to equitably allocate international security funding or share critical intelligence, despite Puntland’s frontline role in battling extremist groups. For instance, the Puntland Security Force (PSF) and Puntland Dervish Force—key regional units actively engaging ISIS-Somalia in mountainous terrain—rely on outdated weaponry and limited logistical support, while the SNA, bolstered by foreign training and financing, remains disproportionately concentrated in south-central Somalia.
The consequences of this imbalance are dire. In 2021, Puntland launched Operation Dabaaldegg to dismantle ISIS strongholds in Galgala, a campaign conducted almost entirely without federal backing. The absence of aerial surveillance, medical evacuations, and reinforcements from Mogadishu stretched Puntland’s forces thin, allowing militants to regroup and retaliate against civilians. Meanwhile, the FGS’s insistence on integrating regional forces into the SNA—a move Puntland views as a bid to erode its autonomy—has further strained relations. “We are told to surrender our weapons and recruits to Mogadishu, but receive nothing in return except empty promises,” lamented a Puntland security official in 2023.
This security vacuum has forced Puntland to seek alternative partnerships, including reported collaborations with private military contractors and bilateral agreements with states like the UAE, which has provided training and equipment. Yet these ad hoc measures can not substitute for a cohesive national strategy. The FGS’s prioritization of political control over collective security has not only emboldened extremists but also deepened Puntland’s resolve to pursue confederation—a system where it could autonomously manage defence policy and international partnerships. Without meaningful reform, Mogadishu’s neglect risks transforming Puntland’s pragmatic push for self-reliance into an irreversible fracture of the Somali state.
This expansion contextualizes Puntland’s security challenges within the broader federal-regional rift, emphasizing operational realities, external alliances, and the human cost of Mogadishu’s policies. It ties the crisis to Puntland’s political calculus, reinforcing the essay’s thesis on confederation as a survival mechanism.