Somalia’s Perpetual Crisis: How Exclusion and Short-Term Power Doomed the State

Somalia’s tragedy is not merely one of collapse, but of an unending cycle of failed rebirths. The state did not fail solely because it lacked governments or resources. It has consistently failed to rebuild because its would-be architects—across the political spectrum and the clan map—have repeatedly chosen factional control over inclusive nation-building. The conduct of Mogadishu-centered elites since the Transitional Federal Government (TFG) is a stark chapter in this longer story, but it is a symptom of a deeper, systemic disease.

Let us speak plainly, without nostalgia, tribal defensiveness, or historical amnesia.

A Distorted Genesis: The TFG and the Missed Moment

When the TFG was formed in 2004—painfully negotiated and internationally backed—it sought to return to Mogadishu. However, the narrative that city elites simply refused it entry oversimplifies a volatile reality. Mogadishu was not under a unified authority but fragmented among warlords. By 2006, power had consolidated under the Islamic Courts Union (ICU), which brought a harsh but unprecedented stability. The TFG’s entry was not blocked by a petty refusal; it was rendered moot by the rise of a rival, popular governance project. The international and regional decision to empower the TFG to dismantle the ICU via a catastrophic Ethiopian invasion in 2006 was the true pivot. This foreign intervention, invited by a faction within the TFG but opposed by most Somalis, did not fill a passive vacuum. It actively destroyed a Somali political order and birthed the very extremist forces, like Al-Shabab, that would become the enduring crisis. The message became unmistakable: sovereignty was negotiable, and power could be outsourced.

That moment should have triggered national self-reflection. Instead, it inaugurated a politics of denial and dependency, where Somali elites learned to weaponize foreign patronage against domestic rivals.

Sabotaging Federalism: A System Designed to Fail

Federalism was not imposed; it was a Somali compromise to end the centralized tyranny that had fueled civil war. Yet, once codified, it was gutted in practice by a center that demanded obedience and by regional leaders who built personal fiefdoms. The system has collapsed into open confrontation. Puntland has suspended recognition of the federal government over constitutional disputes, while relations with Jubaland have broken down into federal intervention and armed clashes. This is not state-building. It is state capture by multiple, competing centers.

The failure is not Mogadishu’s alone. It is a collective failure of a political class that treats federal units not as pillars of a shared republic, but as clan-based franchises for resource capture and patronage. The “4.5” clan power-sharing model, intended as a temporary fix, has solidified into an engine of zero-sum competition, where governing is about dividing the spoils of port revenues and international aid rather than building common institutions.

The Somaliland Catastrophe and the Illusion of Silence

The most damning evidence of this systemic failure is the handling of Somaliland. For over three decades, successive governments in Mogadishu have oscillated between denial and empty rhetoric, mistaking inertia for strategy. This was not a problem that would fade. While Somalia fractured and talked to itself, Somaliland built de facto institutions. Mogadishu’s chronic irresponsibility created the space for others to act. The reckless Memorandum of Understanding with Ethiopia and the subsequent recognition by Israel in December 2025 were not merely diplomatic coups for Hargeisa; they were the direct harvest of Mogadishu’s strategic neglect. Yet, this too is a Somali tragedy, not a pure victory: Somaliland itself is fractured, its government struggling to control eastern regions that reject its independence project. A problem ignored mutates, but it does not resolve cleanly for anyone.

The Capital That Cannot Be a Capital

At the heart of Somalia’s predicament lies the deadly illusion that controlling Mogadishu equals controlling Somalia. The capital city is treated as a clan estate, the ultimate prize in a war of attrition. By refusing to share it—politically, symbolically, and administratively—dominant actors have turned it from a necessary unifying center into the primary centrifugal force of national fragmentation. This mentality is mirrored in regional state capitals, where local elites replicate the same politics of exclusion. The disease is national.

Failure to Diagnose: Confusing Symptoms for Causes

Worst of all, Somalia’s political class has never honestly diagnosed the illness. They blame foreign conspiracies while perfecting domestic sabotage. They seek foreign troops to hold off enemies created by previous foreign interventions. They confuse militia control with governance, and international recognition with legitimacy.

Somalia’s tragedy is not a lack of intellect or goodwill. Its tragedy is that the logic of its politics—shaped by the trauma of dictatorship, clan fracture, and foreign manipulation—rewards short-term predation over long-term construction. Those who claim to speak for the nation have consistently refused to listen—to history, to other Somalis, and to the clear lesson that no faction can build a state that belongs only to itself.

Until Somalia confronts this original sin—this systemic culture of exclusion, fragmentation, and denied sovereignty—no amount of conferences, constitutions, or foreign troops will save it. A state cannot be rebuilt by those who never accepted that it must belong to all. And Mogadishu will never be the capital of a nation until every Somali, from Hargeisa to Kismayo, believes it has stopped behaving like the capital of a faction. The curse is not the city, but the unbroken, ruinous politics practiced within it.

13 Years of WDM (now WAPMEN) — Fearless, Independent, Uncompromising

Thirteen years ago, Warsame Digital Media (WDM) was born out of a simple but dangerous idea: tell the truth, even when power is uncomfortable with it.
What began as a modest digital platform has grown into a trusted voice for independent Somali journalism, policy analysis, and unapologetic commentary—often standing alone when silence was safer, and conformity more rewarding.
For 13 years, WDM has:
Challenged authoritarian drift, corruption, and political deception
Defended federalism, constitutionalism, and collective sovereignty
Preserved institutional memory against deliberate amnesia
Given voice to citizens, scholars, and dissenters excluded from official narratives
Refused funding, patronage, or protection that demanded compromise
WDM has survived threats, censorship, character assassination, isolation, and financial hardship—not because the road was easy, but because the mission was necessary.
In an era of shrinking civic space, manufactured consent, and media capture, WDM chose the harder path: independence without apology.
This anniversary is not a celebration of longevity alone.
It is a reckoning—with those who abused power, distorted history, and mistook silence for consent.
To our readers, contributors, critics, and supporters across Somalia and the diaspora:
You kept this platform alive.
To those who hoped WDM would fade:
We are still here.
And to the next generation of truth-tellers:
The fight continues.
13 Years Strong.
13 Years Unbought.
13 Years Unbroken.
— Warsame Digital Media (WDM)