Political Reflections | Historical Memoir

By Ismail H. Warsame

The Scholar Who Walked Between Books and Battles

Dr. Hassan Ali Mire was, by all standards, one of the most brilliant Somali intellectuals of his generation — a Princeton University graduate whose mind traversed politics, poetry, and philosophy with ease. Yet, his life remains a paradox of potential unfulfilled — a story of intellect that never quite materialized into transformative leadership.

I knew Dr. Mire personally. We worked together in the most difficult days of the Somali Salvation Democratic Front (SSDF), when resistance meant sleeping in exile, breathing the air of suspicion, and fighting tyranny with little more than conviction and a typewriter. He was a man of intellect and impulse — articulate, persuasive, and fiercely independent, yet politically naïve in ways that cost him dearly.

The Tragedy of the Ivory Tower

Dr. Mire embodied the tragedy of the Somali intellectual: brilliant in theory, scattered in execution. His thoughts were vast — sometimes too vast to be contained within the limits of realpolitik. He was constantly reading, scribbling notes, crafting ideas — always on the verge of something great, but rarely completing it.

He lived as if trapped in the pages of his own manuscripts, disconnected from the brutal realities of the political arena he had entered. In SSDF, he was respected, even revered, for his intellect and command of ideas, but his colleagues soon discovered that governance requires more than genius — it requires grit, patience, and compromise.

Where others maneuvered for survival, Dr. Mire argued for principles. Where others conspired, he philosophized. His mind was too pure for the muddy trenches of Somali politics. That purity, in a land of deception and betrayal, became his undoing.

A Moment in Exile: The Press Statement Incident

I remember one particular day in exile vividly — a moment that revealed both his brilliance and his uncompromising intellect. The SSDF Executive Committee had convened to issue an important press statement. Mohamud Abdi Ali “Bayr,” another distinguished intellectual from the left-wing of the organization, took charge of drafting it.

When Bayr completed the draft — five long pages of impassioned political rhetoric — someone suggested that Dr. Mire should double-check it before release. Dr. Mire read the document carefully, line by line, then placed both hands on his forehead in disbelief and exclaimed:

“What a disorganized mind!”

Then, in an act of editorial mastery, he took Bayr’s verbose five pages and condensed them into a single page — precise, coherent, and powerful. That was Dr. Mire: ruthless in intellectual clarity, intolerant of confusion, and always striving for refinement of thought.

His comment, though cutting, came not from arrogance but from a deep commitment to discipline and order in expression. He demanded rigor in thought and form — a rare quality in a revolutionary movement where passion often overshadowed precision. That episode revealed not only his sharp intellect but also his instinct for structure — the mark of a true scholar in the midst of chaos.

The Addis Ababa Lecture: Courage in the Lion’s Den

I also recall another unforgettable incident during those turbulent years of exile. Dr. Mire was invited to lecture at Addis Ababa University on Ethio-Somali relations — at the height of the Derg regime’s authoritarian grip. It was a time of intense fear and uncertainty for all of us. Abdullahi Yusuf, the founding chairman of SSDF, was imprisoned by the Ethiopian government, and Dr. Mire was then serving as the movement’s chairman.

In a vast lecture hall filled with students, professors, and Derg security agents, he stood tall and delivered one of the most courageous public remarks I have ever witnessed. With calm defiance, he declared:

“Today’s African President is tomorrow’s political refugee.”

The hall fell silent. Then he added another sharp observation that has since become legendary among those who heard it:

“Somalis are irresistible, and Ethiopians are unmovable over the Ogaden Desert.”

It was a moment of intellectual audacity — a daring act of truth-telling in a hall thick with fear and surveillance. Those words, uttered under the shadow of Mengistu’s regime, captured both the tragedy and the stubborn pride of two neighboring peoples locked in historic contention.

Dr. Mire’s wit and courage that day revealed not only his brilliance but also his instinct for speaking uncomfortable truths, even when silence would have been safer.

The Rift with Abdullahi Yusuf

Despite their shared roots in the SSDF struggle, Dr. Mire’s relationship with his predecessor, Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed, grew increasingly sour in later years. What began as ideological differences over leadership style and political priorities evolved into a deep personal and political rift.

Dr. Mire’s intellectualism clashed with Abdullahi’s militarism. Where Yusuf believed in control and discipline through command, Mire sought persuasion through reason and dialogue. The two men represented contrasting schools within Somali resistance politics — the soldier and the scholar, the pragmatist and the idealist.

History, perhaps unfairly, rewarded one and forgot the other. But those of us who lived through that era know that both were indispensable to the story of Somali resistance — and that Dr. Hassan Ali Mire’s voice, though subdued by time, still echoes in the conscience of the nation.

A Cultural Luminary

To remember Dr. Hassan Ali Mire only through the prism of politics would be unjust. He was deeply rooted in Somali cultural heritage — a man who could recite entire poems from memory, who understood the rhythm and nuance of Somali oral tradition like few others. His conversations were filled with quotes from the masters of Somali verse, his metaphors drawn from the nomadic imagination, his wit sharp and poetic.

He was the bridge between the old and the new — between the Somali pastoral intellect and Western academic sophistication. He spoke both the language of the desert and the discourse of Princeton. In that rare combination lay his charm — and perhaps, his torment.

The Gentleman Revolutionary

Dr. Mire’s leadership in SSDF came at a time of deep crisis and disillusionment. He was a gentleman in a world of hardened militants, a man of civility among conspirators and career revolutionaries. His tenure was marked by efforts to intellectualize a liberation movement that had already become militarized and fractured by external manipulation.

His simplicity bordered on political innocence. He trusted where suspicion was warranted. He believed in unity where division was already institutionalized. His moral compass, unbending in an era of expediency, made him vulnerable.

But those of us who worked alongside him — through nights of argument and exile — remember a man with a good heart, generous with ideas and compassion. He believed that liberation was not only from dictatorship but also from ignorance and clan servitude. His dream was to make Somali politics rational and humane — a dream too advanced for its time.

Legacy of an Unfinished Mind

When history is written, Dr. Hassan Ali Mire will not be remembered for winning power, but for holding on to integrity. He will not be celebrated for political triumphs, but for intellectual courage. His was a life of struggle — not only against tyranny, but against the mediocrity of his contemporaries and the limits of his own temperament.

He was quick-tempered, easily frustrated by incompetence, often isolated by his high standards. But behind that restlessness was a deep love for Somalia and a stubborn refusal to surrender his ideals to convenience.

In an age when Somali politics has been overrun by opportunists and empty slogans, Dr. Mire stands as a symbol of what could have been — a reminder that intellect without strategy is a candle in the storm.

Epilogue: The Man I Knew

I remember him as a man who carried too many books and too little patience, who debated endlessly about democracy and justice while the world around him burned. He was one of the few who believed that ideas could defeat dictatorship — that words could outlast guns.

He was right in spirit, wrong in method. But his legacy — like the flicker of a lamp in exile — still illuminates the path for those who dare to think in a land that punishes thinkers.

Dr. Hassan Ali Mire, may your restless mind find peace in eternity. Somalia, in its chaotic journey, still owes you the recognition you never received in life.

WDM Editorial Note:
In remembering men like Dr. Mire, we remember that Somalia’s tragedy was never the absence of intellect — it was the failure to translate intellect into collective will. His life remains a mirror for the Somali elite: brilliant in thought, broken in action.

By Ismail H. Warsame

A Dangerous Joke in a Fragile Nation

When someone floated the absurd notion that Puntland might one day secede to join the United Arab Emirates as another emirate, it might have been meant as humor — but the laughter died in the throat of every conscious Somali. It was not funny. It was symptomatic. It revealed, with brutal honesty, the deep disillusionment with Mogadishu’s failed federal project under Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s administration.

Let’s state facts: Puntland is several times larger than the entire UAE in landmass. Its coastline dwarfs that of most Gulf states combined. Its untapped mineral wealth, hydrocarbons, fisheries, livestock, and fertile interior plains represent a sleeping economic giant. The only thing missing is leadership — one that governs by vision, not by opportunistic foreign appeasement.

So when the rumor mills echo with “joining the Emirates,” it isn’t a dream — it’s a sarcastic reflection of despair in the Somali political imagination.

The Anatomy of a Somali Political Vacuum

Puntland, Jubaland, and Somaliland — three states with administrative coherence, relative stability, and defined borders — now stand isolated, abandoned by a central government that neither listens nor learns.

Under Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, the Federal Government of Somalia (FGS) has mutated into a narrow political cartel — a Damul Jadiid experiment in ideological arrogance. The result? The spirit of federalism — the sacred pact that bound Somalia together after 1991’s disintegration — is now dead in all but name.

Every federal member state looks inward, not outward. Every president becomes a mini-head of state, not a federal partner. Villa Somalia has become a centralizing force of division, not unity.

Somaliland’s Old Argument Revisited

For decades, Somaliland justified its withdrawal from the union with one haunting phrase:

“There is no one to negotiate with in Mogadishu.”

That line, once dismissed as separatist propaganda, now echoes ominously in Garowe and Kismayo. Puntland, long the most loyal advocate of a federal Somalia, finds itself confronting the same painful realization — there is no credible partner left in Mogadishu.

When the very seat of the federal government becomes a theater of corruption, manipulation, and clan-centric governance, dialogue dies. When dialogue dies, secession talk thrives.

The Strategic Patience of Puntland

Puntland has always played the long game. It resisted the Arta Conference in 2000, not out of arrogance, but because it demanded genuine federalism — not clan arithmetic dressed as unity. It participated in Mbagathi to shape a real national charter, not another political illusion.

Now, two decades later, Puntland’s political patience is being tested to its limits. Garowe’s quiet diplomacy is giving way to growing cynicism. The people’s frustration is real — not because they want to “join the UAE,” but because they are tired of waiting for Somalia to grow up.

The Real Secession is Already Happening

Let’s be brutally honest — the real secession is not territorial; it’s institutional and psychological.
Every time Villa Somalia undermines federalism, it secedes from the covenant of the 2012 Provisional Constitution.
Every time it manipulates parliament, it breaks the moral union.
Every time it treats Puntland and Jubaland as political adversaries instead of partners, it accelerates the national disintegration it pretends to prevent.

So, when Puntland intellectuals or elders joke about joining the UAE, they are merely mocking a failed system — not seeking a new flag.

Conclusion: The Coming Reckoning

Somalia’s unity will not be saved by slogans or donor-funded conferences in Mogadishu hotels. It will be saved when the federal ideal — autonomy within unity — is respected in deed, not in speech.

Until then, Puntland will continue to be misunderstood: too pragmatic for Mogadishu, too patient for separatists, too self-reliant for parasites.

But make no mistake — if the current trend continues, the laughter about Puntland becoming an emirate will be replaced by something far more serious: the quiet declaration of independence through governance, accountability, and results.

And when that day comes, it won’t be because Puntland left Somalia —
It will be because Somalia left Puntland.

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© 2025 Warsame Digital Media (WDM)
Critical analysis, satire, and truth-telling from the Horn of Africa’s uncompromising voice.

By Ismail H. Warsame
Warsame Digital Media (WDM)

The Feline Coup in Garowe

There was a time when Garowe’s hotels proudly displayed manicured gardens — symbols of hospitality, order, and Puntland’s claim to urban civilization. Today, those same gardens have been seized — not by political militias, not by opposition parties, but by cats. Yes, the new rulers of Garowe come with whiskers, claws, and an entitlement only rivaled by certain government officials.

Garowe’s hotel gardens have been quietly converted into open-air toilets for the city’s fast-multiplying feline population. What used to be green serenity for tea and diplomacy is now a battlefield of mating yowls, foul odors, and territorial disputes. At night, these furry anarchists organize what sounds like a constitutional conference — perhaps to ratify The Republic of Meowland under the slogan: “We came, we saw, we sprayed.”

Uncontrolled In-House Proliferation: A Hygiene Apocalypse

This is not a joke anymore — it’s an environmental and public health emergency disguised in fur. Behind every hotel wall, a new litter is born every week. These are not pampered pets. These are feral freeloaders — thriving in garbage, breeding unchecked, spreading fleas, and converting respectable courtyards into biological minefields.

The foul smell of cat droppings is unbearable around these once-beautiful hotel gardens. The air itself has become heavy, infected with a nauseating odor that drives away both guests and common sense. What used to be the pride of Garowe’s hospitality industry has turned into an olfactory nightmare — a testament to how civic neglect can literally stink to high heaven.

Of Leaders and Litter Boxes

Garowe’s situation is a perfect metaphor for Puntland’s current governance: overrun by unregulated forces, lacking supervision, and thriving on negligence.
When the government cannot manage basic urban hygiene, what hope is there for democracy or security?

Imagine the scene — dignitaries arriving from abroad to find a cat parade in the hotel garden. One foreign visitor reportedly said, “I thought these were holy cats protected by local law.” Indeed, in Garowe today, the cat enjoys more freedom of movement than the average citizen.

There was once a Garowe Mayor named Ahmed Barre, who still jokes about my early warnings regarding the invasion of cats and goats in Garowe. Every time he sees me in town, he laughs and says:

“Ismail, tell me about the cats in Garowe,”
As if I were somehow responsible for his political downfall — as if my critique of his feline administration haunted his mayoral days!

Yet, not all establishments have surrendered to the feline invasion. Certain hotels, notably Martisoor and Rugsan, have found a way around this problem — discreetly, effectively, and without waiting for municipal miracles. Their courtyards are clean, their nights quiet, and their guests relieved. It seems they’ve mastered the art of feline diplomacy — firm, silent, and decisive.

WDM Conclusion: Declaw the Disorder

If this continues, WDM proposes a tongue-in-cheek but deadly serious intervention:

1. Declare a Feline Emergency — appoint a Minister of Cat Control.

2. Launch Operation Litter Freedom — mass sterilization, not speeches.

3. Reclaim Hotel Gardens — turn them back into symbols of urban decency, not cat kingdoms.

Garowe, the proud heart of Puntland, deserves better than this creeping animal anarchy. Hygiene is not a luxury — it’s a moral indicator of civilization. When cats rule the courtyards and leaders chase vanity projects, the city’s soul begins to rot — and the stench isn’t just from the gardens anymore.

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WDM © 2025 — “Talking Truth to Power (and Paws)”
Garowe’s cats have declared independence. Now who will liberate the city from them?