Israel’s formal recognition of Somaliland on December 26, 2025, is not a bolt from the blue. It is an invoice arriving—late, stamped, and payable—after years of Somalia behaving like a state that wants the title deed to unity but refuses to maintain the house of governance.

In geopolitical terms, recognition is rarely a moral reward; it is a transaction. Somaliland did not suddenly become “more real” today. It simply became more useful to an external actor. And Somalia, by becoming ungovernable, made the transaction cheaper.

What did we expect after making the country ungovernable? We expected exactly this.

When a federal center treats the Provisional Constitution as a suggestion box—opening the door to corruption, land grabs, and unconstitutional power plays—it does not “strengthen the state.” It advertises the state as for sale. The recent constitutional changes, which Puntland refused to recognize and which led it to withdraw from the federal system, are a prime example. Mogadishu was accused of “threatening national unity” by concentrating power.

This trajectory was not state-building; it was state-unbuilding.

For years, WDM has warned that Somalia’s federal experiment “has now entered its terminal crisis stage,” where relations between the center and member states have decayed into “mutual suspicion, coercion, and political trench warfare”—fertile ground for fragmentation. We explicitly framed Somalia’s future as a fork in the road: “A negotiated consensus” or “A dangerous fragmentation—where Mogadishu’s unilateralism spawns rival governments, contested institutions, and international confusion”.

We warned that the Garowe–Mogadishu confrontation was not political theatre, but a collision course that could breed “parallel governments (Garowe vs Mogadishu model)” and invite increased foreign meddling. We doubled down that delay is a strategy of cowards: “Somalia always pays more when it waits. More instability. More fragmentation. More foreign interference”.

So no—this is not “Somaliland winning.” This is Somalia defaulting.

The weaponization of the center normalized fragmentation.

The pattern of the federal center treating member states as targets, not partners, hardened in recent years. WDM documented that under the regimes of Farmaajo and Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, the National Consultative Council (NCC) was transformed from a dialogue platform into “a forum to pressure Puntland and Jubaland” and “a tool to override federalism”. Once a state normalizes internal war-by-politics, it should not act surprised when outsiders start treating its map as negotiable.

“Other countries to follow?” Yes—because the center taught them how.

Reuters frames Israel’s move as a “first”. That word is the danger. Once one country crosses the line, the next ones will not need to argue the entire case again. They will only need to ask: What do we gain? What does Mogadishu offer? What can Hargeisa deliver?

Somalia’s federal center, by violating the spirit and procedures of its own constitution, has made itself a weak negotiator—sometimes not even a negotiator at all, just a loud protester outside the room. This is the strategic humiliation: a state that cannot keep its own federation intact will struggle to keep its sovereignty arguments persuasive abroad.

How long have we been warning? Long enough that the warnings now look like minutes of a meeting Somalia refused to attend.

When WDM titles an essay “Garowe vs. Mogadishu: The Looming Political Collision Course” and explicitly lists fragmentation as a probable outcome, that is not commentary—it is an alarm. When WDM publishes “Somalia’s Federalism in Paralysis” and describes terminal decay, that is not pessimism—it is diagnosis. When WDM says Somalia must choose confederation or fragmentation, that is not provocation—it is an exit map from a burning building.

The Bottom Line

Somaliland’s recognition is not merely Somaliland’s diplomacy. It is Somalia’s self-inflicted emptiness being filled by other people’s interests.

If Mogadishu wants to stop the dominoes, it must stop behaving like a landlord who evicts tenants (member states), then screams “unity!” from the rooftop of a collapsing building.

Somalia’s unity cannot be enforced by decree, purchased by corruption, or performed on television. It must be negotiated, constitutionally, and collectively owned—or it will be internationally auctioned, piece by piece.

By the way, how much do you think the recent Somalia’s E-VISA controversy has contributed to this balkanization of Somalia? Have your say.

Citations

1. Garowe vs. Mogadishu: The Looming Political Collision Course. WDM Editorial, Nov 3 2025.
2. Somalia’s Federalism in Paralysis. WDM White Paper, Nov 27 2025.
3. The Price of Delay: Somalia’s Leaders Are Choosing Chaos Over Consensus. WDM Editorial, Dec 23 2025.
4. Somalia accused of ‘threatening national unity’ with new constitution. The Guardian, Apr 5 2024.
5. Israel becomes first country to formally recognise Somaliland as independent state. Reuters, Dec 26 2025.

A Satire by Warsame Policy & Media Network (WAPMEN)

In Somalia, there is a city living two lives—one of soaring ambition, the other of quiet desperation. Its name is Galkayo.

By day, Galkayo stands as a testament to Somali audacity. Its children, scattered across continents, have accomplished what governments draft in proposals and donors debate in conferences. They carved a deep-sea port from the rocky shores of Gara’ad—opening it in 2022—no permissions asked, no international aid requested. Now, they are rallying behind the Abdullahi Yusuf International Airport, with the business community reportedly proposing a $20 million investment—a bold statement that this city will not be left on the ground.

This is the Galkayo of cranes and wire transfers, of blueprints and belief. A city that proclaims: If the state will not come to us, we will become the state.

But when the sun sets, another Galkayo wakes.

This Galkayo is not measured in milestones, but in escapes. Its professionals, elders, and entrepreneurs slip away—sometimes with suitcases, often with only the clothes they wear—not because of drought or unemployment, but because of the silent, persistent terror of clan vendettas, the brutal cycle of “Aano” revenge killings that have claimed dozens of elite residents since 2022. Here, survival is the nightly agenda.

In this Galkayo, trash mounds rise like monuments to neglect. Rainwater, when it comes, has no plan but to flood—streets, homes, and hope alike—a direct result of a collapsed drainage system and municipal paralysis. Drainage exists in speeches. Public health is a rumor. The city decays without spectacle, eroding under apathy.

So we ask: What city builds an airport it cannot safely reach, where the key road link to Harfo is described as ‘one of the worst’ and remains stalled by political disputes? What logic builds a port to the world while its own neighborhoods drown in waste and fear?

This is not irony—it is civic schizophrenia.

Galkayo has perfected exporting dreams while importing disorder. Its diaspora funds monuments to tomorrow, while its politicians treat the city like a temporary settlement. Clan justice operates unchallenged—swifter than courts, deadlier than law, and more respected than any institution—in a documented vacuum of justice where promises of new police forces remain unfulfilled.

We speak always of “community resilience,” but never ask why resilience must do the work of government. We celebrate self-reliance, yet ignore why a city that can fund multimillion-dollar projects cannot broker a basic peace among its own or even collect the garbage.

The disconnect is no longer hidden—it is glaring, grotesque.

A city cannot be both a gateway to the world and a hostage to its own streets. You cannot court international flights while your citizens book one-way tickets out of fear. You cannot dredge an ocean for ships but not your own roads for rain. You cannot champion development while dismissing revenge killings as “tribal affairs.”

Galkayo must choose.

Will it be the city that builds—or the city that buries?

Because runways and ports do not make a home. Safety does. Dignity does. Law does. Without these, every poured foundation, every newly paved tarmac, will stand not as a symbol of progress—but as a tombstone for what Galkayo could have been.

A city reaching for the skies, yet unable to walk its own streets at night.

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Warsame Policy & Media Network (WAPMEN).