There is a dangerous myth in Somali politics that ignorance is harmless — even virtuous. It is not. Ignorance, when weaponized in politics, is a curse that drags entire societies into the abyss while its carriers celebrate illusion as strategy.
What we are witnessing today in Mogadishu is not politics. It is theatre — a tragic satire where so-called Puntland “elders” and self-declared opposition figures shuffle into Villa Somalia like invited guests to a collapsing palace, mistaking access for influence and proximity for power.
Let us be blunt: you do not attend a feast hosted by a presidency that is already politically expired unless you are either naïve, compromised, or complicit.
The clock is ticking — loudly, relentlessly — toward May 15, 2026. The mandate is evaporating. The constitutional roadmap is non-existent. The political capital is depleted. Yet, in this twilight, Villa Somalia continues to assemble a gallery of enablers, dressed as stakeholders but acting as props.
These “elders” — unelected, unmandated, and unaccountable — have become traveling ornaments of a regime in decline. They do not negotiate; they legitimize. They do not represent; they decorate. Their presence is not political engagement; it is political surrender disguised as dialogue.
And what exactly are they endorsing?
A presidency increasingly seen not as a unifier, but as a destabilizer. A leadership that toys with federal fault lines while pretending to arbitrate them. A political project that has burned bridges with Puntland, alienated Jubaland, and left the rest of the federation in a state of anxious limbo.
This is not governance. This is loitering in power.
The international community — often slow, often cautious — is watching. And when it watches long enough, it acts. The language will be diplomatic, but the consequences will be surgical: isolation, designation, and quiet but effective sanctions. No regime collapses overnight; it is slowly suffocated — politically, financially, and diplomatically.
Those dining today in Villa Somalia may soon find themselves photographed in the wrong room at the wrong time in history.
And let us address the illusion of protection: proximity to power does not grant immunity when that power collapses. It only ensures association.
History is unforgiving to those who mistake access for influence. From Mogadishu to countless failed capitals before it, the script is always the same: when the centre fails, it takes its courtiers down with it.
The real tragedy is not the fall of a presidency — that is inevitable in politics. The tragedy is the recycling of ignorance as leadership. The elevation of noise over legitimacy. The betrayal of constituencies by those who claim to speak in their name.
Puntland does not need spectators in Villa Somalia. It needs statesmen who understand timing, legitimacy, and consequence.
Because in politics, as in life, there is one unforgiving rule:
You do not anchor your future to a sinking ship — unless you intend to go down with it.
And right now, far too many are not just aboard.
They are applauding.
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Warsame Policy & Media Network (WAPMEN) 