Why Somaliland’s Leadership Crisis Is Repeating Itself—From Goojacadde to Borama

A WAPMEN Editorial — Speaking Truth to Power, Without Fear or Favour

There are moments when a nation’s leadership is tested not by its enemies, but by its own choices. The bloodshed in Borama is one such moment—a direct, preventable crisis born from a failure to listen.

It was not an accident.
It was not a mere“security incident.”
It was thedirect result of a political decision—the plan to host the divisive “Issa Law” ceremony in Zeila—that lit a match in Awdal. The government’s response, using live ammunition against its own civilians, leaving at least 17 dead, is a catastrophic failure of governance written in fire and denial.

But if you thought Somaliland learned anything from the Goojacadde catastrophe—
If you thought leaders in Hargeisa had re-examined their instinct to impose rather than consult—
If you thought the military defeat in Sool had spurred political wisdom—
The Borama massacre proves you wrong. Spectacularly wrong.

Goojacadde: A Lesson in Military and Political Defeat, Thoroughly Ignored

For two decades, Somaliland has sold a global narrative of “democracy” and “stability.” Yet in Sool, it exercised coercive power over a community that did not consent to its rule. The result was not stability, but a popular armed uprising that culminated in the strategic and humiliating loss of the Goojacadde military base in August 2023. Soldiers were captured, equipment was lost, and territory was reclaimed by SSC-Khatumo forces with the help of the so-called “Hiil Walaal”.

Goojacadde was a lesson shouted by history: there is no durable control without the consent of the governed.

Yet, Somaliland’s leadership treated it as a military mishap, not the symptom of a deep political illness—the arrogance of imposing will from Hargeisa.

Borama: The Same Disease, A Different Eruption

Borama is not Sool. It is not Las Anod. It is the city of the 1993 Grand Conference, a foundational pillar of Somaliland’s very project. Here, the crisis was triggered not by years of warfare, but by a single, tone-deaf political maneuver—a law perceived as a territorial threat, unveiled in a region that saw it as a betrayal.

The pattern, however, is lethally familiar: Break trust → impose a decision → meet dissent with lethal force → blame the victims.

Once again:

· Civic outrage was met with a state bullet.
· Youth demanding accountability were treated as enemies.
· The government’s delayed reversal came only after the streets were stained with blood.

This is not governance. This is political self-sabotage on repeat—proving that the disease which infected policy in Sool is now metastasizing at home.

The Crumbling Myth of “The Somaliland Model

Somaliland’s ruling elite operates on a fatal miscalculation: that suppressing grievances creates unity. In reality, it transforms loyal citizens into resistors and turns political disputes into existential crises.

The “Somaliland model” is cracking because its foundation—earned consent—is being eroded. Awdal has its own history and civic culture, but it shares with Sool the experience of being ignored, provoked, and then attacked when it speaks.

Goojacadde taught that you cannot bomb a people into loyalty. Borama now teaches that you cannot shoot your citizens into silence.

A Final Warning, Written in Blood

Sool was not lost because of clan politics. It was lost because of political arrogance and contempt for local will. Borama is not yet lost, but it is wounded—by the very government that claims to protect it.

The lesson is no longer subtle. It is screaming from the battlefields of Sool and the streets of Borama: A government that rules by imposition and fear is building its house on sand.

There is still time—to truly reform, to genuinely reconcile, to replace the barrel of a gun with the humility of dialogue. But if the same instincts that led to Goojacadde and Borama prevail, then Somaliland must be ready to face the consequences: a stability that collapses from within, defeated by its own hand.

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