The Somali Republic, once proudly stitched together by camel milk and poetry, has now been digitally dismembered by TikTok dances and clan hashtags. Social media didn’t just kill the family; it embalmed it with filters and buried it under viral skits where the new Somali proverb is: “If it’s not livestreamed, it didn’t happen.”
Forget reconciliation—Somalis now specialize in mutual annihilation as a national sport, each clan sharpening its hashtags like spears. Politics has degenerated into a blood feud fought on Facebook comment sections, where warriors armed with broken English and ALL CAPS do more damage than Kalashnikovs ever did.
Extremists? Oh, they’re thriving. Why not, when the government outsourced the war against them to wishful thinking and empty donor conferences in Nairobi hotels? Meanwhile, the only serious battles Somalis fight are over diaspora remittances and who gets to dominate TikTok’s daily clan-bashing session.
Strategic resources? Foreign vultures are already circling the Somali coast, sniffing the oil, the fish, and the geopolitics, while locals are too busy trending: “#MyTribeIsBetter.” The country is being carved up like a sacrificial goat, only this time the guests are outsiders, and Somalis are the ones serving the meat with a smile.
And yet, while all this unfolds, Somalis themselves are like partygoers in a burning house—arguing over who owns the living room while the roof caves in.
The truth is harsh: Somalia is not just being destroyed from outside—it is being hollowed from within. Not by bombs, but by memes. Not by colonizers, but by self-inflicted division. Not by dictators, but by an army of dancing robots who forgot that survival requires more than Wi-Fi.
Welcome to Somalia 2.0: irreconcilable, incoherent, and irretrievably entertained.
Warsame Policy & Media Network (WAPMEN) 