Raid, Repression, and the Collapse of Rule of Law in Mogadishu

Ahmed Hure, Puntland Presidential Advisor detained in Mogadishu by the Federal Government.


When the State Becomes the Lawbreaker
There are moments in the political life of a country when the mask falls off and the true nature of power reveals itself. The recent police raid on the privately owned Airport Hotel in Mogadishu is one such moment.
A group of armed police officers storming private property without a warrant, making arrests under questionable authority, and intimidating law-makers and civilians is not law enforcement. It is state-sanctioned coercion.
This is not merely an isolated incident. It is part of a broader pattern emerging from the current federal administration — a pattern that increasingly resembles rule by intimidation rather than rule of law.
The Somali state, fragile as it already is, cannot afford such reckless behaviour.
When the police begin to behave like political militias, the constitutional order itself begins to collapse.


Why Puntland and Jubaland Came Armed
Those who were surprised that the leaders of Said Abdullahi Deni of Puntland and Ahmed Mohamed Islam Madoobe of Jubaland arrived in Mogadishu recently with significant armed security contingents now have their answer.
They did not come armed out of arrogance.
They came armed out of necessity.
In a city where:
Private property can be raided without warrants.
Political opponents can be arbitrarily detained.
Members of Parliament can be banned from sessions for dissent.
— any responsible leader would think twice before walking into Mogadishu unprotected.
The message from Puntland and Jubaland was simple:
If the federal government cannot guarantee our safety under the law, we will guarantee it ourselves.
And given recent events, their caution now appears fully justified.


Hostage Parliamentarians
Even more alarming is the widely reported situation involving dissenting members of the Federal Parliament.
A group of lawmakers who opposed the administration’s unilateral constitutional manoeuvres have reportedly been:
banned from attending parliamentary sessions, prevented from travelling freely,
effectively confined within Mogadishu.
Let us call this situation by its real name.
This is a political hostage-taking.
Members of Parliament are not servants of the executive branch. They are representatives of the Somali people.
When a government begins restricting the movement of elected representatives because of their political views, the line between constitutional government and authoritarian rule disappears.


The Atmosphere of Fear in the Capital
Mogadishu today increasingly resembles a city governed by political anxiety rather than constitutional confidence.
The federal leadership appears to be operating under the dangerous assumption that force can substitute for legitimacy.
But Somali political history offers a harsh lesson:
Every government that has attempted to rule Somalia through intimidation has ultimately collapsed under the weight of its own excesses.
The Somali public has endured dictatorship, warlordism, and civil war. The last thing the country needs today is a new form of centralized political repression disguised as federal authority.


Consensus Cannot Be Built with Police Raids
At the very moment when Somalia desperately needs national dialogue and political compromise, the federal administration is sending the opposite signal.
You cannot invite political actors to discuss consensus elections while simultaneously unleashing police raids against perceived opponents.
You cannot speak of democratic processes while silencing dissenting parliamentarians.
And you cannot claim to defend constitutional order while violating basic legal procedures such as warrants and due process.
Consensus politics requires trust.
And trust cannot grow in an environment of intimidation.


A Dangerous Road Ahead
If this trajectory continues, Somalia risks entering a new phase of political fragmentation.
Federal member states will lose confidence in Mogadishu.
Opposition leaders will refuse negotiations.
Parliament will become paralysed.
And the fragile federal project — painstakingly rebuilt since 2012 — could begin to unravel.
All because those entrusted with power have forgotten the most basic principle of democratic governance:
The law exists to restrain the government — not to empower it to abuse citizens.


Somalia Must Choose: Law or Force
The raid on the Airport Hotel may seem like a small event in the daily turbulence of Somali politics.
But symbolically, it represents something much larger.
It represents the moment when the Somali state must choose between two paths:
a constitutional republic governed by law, or a coercive state governed by fear.
Somalia has already travelled the road of coercion once before.
The country cannot afford to go there again.

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Constitutional Coup in Slow Motion: Villa Somalia’s War on Consensus

There are many ways to dismantle a state.
You can wage war.
You can loot the treasury.
You can invite foreign powers to carve the country into spheres of influence.
Or—if you are more sophisticated—you can amend the Constitution without consensus and call it reform.
That, dear readers, is the dangerous political experiment currently unfolding in Somalia under President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud.
A Constitution Is Not a Party Manifesto
A constitution is not a campaign document.
It is not a policy memo drafted by presidential advisers.
It is not a government circular issued from Villa Somalia.
A constitution is fundamentally a political compact—a national agreement negotiated among competing interests, regions, communities, and political forces.
Somalia’s 2012 Provisional Federal Constitution was born from exactly such a compromise. It emerged from years of negotiations aimed at ending civil war and reconstructing a collapsed state. It may not be perfect, but it is the only political consensus document Somalis possess today.
That consensus is the foundation of Somalia’s fragile federal order.
Without consensus, the Constitution becomes merely paper.
The Mohamud–Barre Paradox
Under what many critics now sarcastically describe as the Mohamud–Barre administration, a strange paradox has emerged.
Members of Parliament—elected representatives of the Somali people—have reportedly been excluded from parliamentary sessions because they oppose unilateral constitutional amendments.
Pause and consider the absurdity of this situation.
Lawmakers are being barred from lawmaking because they disagree with how the law is being changed.
If satire were fiction, this would qualify as comedy.
But this is not satire—it is political reality.
Even more troubling are reports that some of these MPs have been subjected to restrictions affecting their ability to travel or return to their constituencies. When elected representatives face limitations on their movement because of political dissent, the problem ceases to be procedural.
It becomes constitutional.
Amendment Without Consensus Is Imposition
The defenders of unilateral amendments often hide behind parliamentary arithmetic.
“Yes,” they argue, “Parliament has the authority to amend the Constitution.”
That statement is technically true—but politically misleading.
Constitutional amendments in fragile federations cannot simply be numerical exercises. They require broad political consensus among federal member states, opposition forces, and national stakeholders.
Otherwise amendments cease to be amendments.
They become impositions.
And impositions in Somali politics have historically produced only one outcome: Civil war and fragmentation.
The Dangerous Arithmetic of Power
The logic currently unfolding in Villa Somalia appears to be simple:
Exclude dissenting MPs.
Secure a numerical majority.
Pass amendments.
Declare victory.
But legitimacy cannot be manufactured through arithmetic.
A majority created by exclusion, coercion, or intimidation does not strengthen institutions—it weakens them.
Somalia’s federal system was created precisely to prevent domination politics from re-emerging. If the executive branch begins redesigning the constitutional framework without consensus, the federal compact itself begins to erode.
And once that erosion begins, it rarely stops politely.
History’s Unforgiving Memory
President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud is not a novice politician. He understands Somalia’s political history. He knows how fragile institutional legitimacy remains after decades of collapse.
He also knows that unilateral constitutional engineering rarely survives the test of political reality.
Somali politics has a long memory.
Attempts to impose national frameworks without consensus have historically led to resistance from federal states, opposition movements, and broader society.
This pattern has repeated itself too many times to ignore.
Satire Meets Tragedy
Imagine explaining the current situation to future generations:
“We amended the Constitution by banning MPs who opposed the amendments.”
They would laugh.
Until they realized it actually happened.
A constitution survives not because it exists on paper but because political actors respect the spirit of compromise that created it.
Remove that spirit, and the document loses its authority.
The Road Ahead
If this trajectory continues, three serious consequences are likely:
First, the legitimacy of federal institutions will erode.
Citizens will view constitutional amendments as political maneuvers rather than national agreements.
Second, tensions between the federal government and federal member states will intensify.
States will resist changes imposed without their participation.
Third, executive overreach will become normalized.
Once dissenting MPs can be sidelined, the line between governance and coercion becomes dangerously thin.
Somalia cannot afford that trajectory.
Final Word
A constitution is not a toy for temporary power.
It is not clay for presidential ambition.
It is the fragile backbone of a recovering state.
If the current leadership believes unilateral amendments can replace consensus politics, history suggests otherwise.
In Somalia, political overreach rarely consolidates power.
It fractures it.
And once fractured, the cost of repair is always higher than the cost of restraint.

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