By Ismail H. Warsame, MSc, PhD Candidate

Somalia is once again approaching a dangerous political crossroads. The country appears trapped in a recurring cycle where leaders mistake temporary control of state power for permanent political legitimacy. Every generation seems destined to confront a new political reckoning born from the failures of those entrusted with safeguarding the nation.
The first great political reckoning came under the military dictatorship of General Mohamed Siyad Barre. Backed by the immense military support of the Soviet Union during the Cold War, Barre became convinced that state power was synonymous with personal power. Institutions disappeared into the shadow of one man. Dissent became treason. Opposition became criminality. The state gradually transformed from a national institution into a personal political project.
As resistance mounted and the regime weakened, Barre reportedly declared that if he could not rule Somalia, nothing would remain of it. Whether remembered as a literal statement or as a reflection of the regime’s destructive mindset, the outcome was tragically similar. By the time his government collapsed in 1991, Somalia had descended into state collapse, civil war, and one of the greatest humanitarian disasters in modern African history.
The scars of that period remain visible today. Entire generations grew up without functioning national institutions. Cities were destroyed. Public trust evaporated. The Somali state itself became a distant memory.
Yet Somalis did not surrender.
Through immense sacrifice by the Somali people, local communities, regional administrations, traditional leaders, civil society organizations, and international partners, a slow and painful process of reconstruction began. The establishment of Puntland in 1998, the peace processes in Djibouti and Kenya, the Transitional Federal Institutions, and eventually the Federal Government of Somalia represented collective attempts to rescue a nation from the ruins.
The federal system that emerged was imperfect, fragile, and frequently contested. Nevertheless, it represented a political compromise designed to prevent the return of centralized authoritarian rule.
Then came the second political reckoning.
The administration of Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo entered office promising reform and national revival. Instead, political tensions intensified between the Federal Government and Federal Member States. Trust eroded. Political consensus fractured. Constitutional disputes multiplied. The election crisis pushed Somalia dangerously close to armed confrontation in Mogadishu itself.
For many Somalis, the warning signs were unmistakable. The political methods that had contributed to previous national disasters appeared to be returning under new slogans and new personalities. The resistance that emerged against Farmaajo’s extension attempt eventually united a broad coalition of opposition forces, Federal Member States, and international actors. The result was his departure from Villa Somalia through political pressure rather than national consensus.
Many hoped Somalia had learned its lesson.
Unfortunately, history has a cruel habit of repeating itself when its lessons are ignored.
President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud returned to office promising reconciliation, dialogue, and national unity. Yet many of the political tensions that defined the previous administration have resurfaced. Relations between the Federal Government and key Federal Member States have deteriorated. Constitutional disputes have deepened. Questions surrounding legitimacy, mandate, political inclusion, and governance continue to dominate national discourse.
What makes the current situation particularly alarming is the apparent belief that foreign military support and concentrated economic investment can substitute for national political consensus. General Siyad Barre believed that the backing of the Soviet Union gave him unlimited room to maneuver and impose his will on Somalia. History proved him catastrophically wrong.
Today, Hassan Sheikh Mohamud appears to have fallen into a similar political illusion. Encouraged by extensive Turkish military assistance, security cooperation, and major infrastructure and economic investments concentrated largely in Mogadishu, he seems to have concluded that political legitimacy can be secured through external partnerships and centralized authority rather than broad-based national consensus.
This is a dangerous misunderstanding of Somalia’s political reality.
Somalia is not Mogadishu alone. The country is a federal republic whose stability depends upon cooperation, consultation, and political accommodation among its diverse regions, communities, and stakeholders. No amount of foreign military training, weapons, infrastructure projects, or diplomatic support can compensate for the absence of trust among Somalis themselves.
Like Siyad Barre before him, Hassan Sheikh appears to have mistaken external backing for domestic legitimacy. He appears to believe that military successes, foreign investment, and international endorsements can overcome growing constitutional disputes, regional grievances, and widening political divisions. In doing so, he risks repeating the very mistakes that plunged Somalia into disaster decades ago.
Foreign powers can provide assistance, but they cannot manufacture legitimacy. They can build roads, ports, airports, and military facilities, but they cannot build national unity where political exclusion and mistrust prevail. Leaders who confuse foreign support with popular legitimacy eventually discover that their political foundations are far weaker than they imagined.
The growing confrontation in Mogadishu today reflects more than a dispute between political opponents. It represents a deeper struggle over the future direction of the Somali state itself. Once again, political actors appear to be testing the limits of Somalia’s fragile institutions. The current confrontation between opposition forces and Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s administration may well represent Somalia’s third great political reckoning since the collapse of the military dictatorship.
The tragedy is not that political disagreements exist. Disagreements are normal in democratic societies. The tragedy is that Somali leaders repeatedly behave as though political power belongs to individuals rather than institutions. Every generation produces leaders who believe they can bend the constitutional order to their personal ambitions. Every generation discovers that Somalia eventually pushes back.
History teaches a brutal lesson.
Siyad Barre believed military power could preserve his rule indefinitely. He was wrong.
Farmaajo believed political maneuvering could override constitutional consensus. He was wrong.
Hassan Sheikh Mohamud appears to believe that foreign-backed state power can overcome political legitimacy deficits. He, too, may be learning the limits of that assumption.
Somalia does not need another strongman.
Somalia does not need another political messiah.
Somalia does not need another “Madax-ka-Nool” system where institutions exist only on paper while power resides in one office.
What Somalia desperately needs is constitutionalism, institutional governance, respect for political agreements, and genuine national dialogue.
The choice facing the country today is stark. Either Somali leaders finally strengthen institutions above personalities, or the nation risks repeating the same destructive cycle that has haunted it since independence.
The third political reckoning is not merely about one administration or one opposition coalition.
It is about whether Somalia can finally break free from its historical addiction to personalized power and embrace the rule of institutions.
History is watching.
And history has already delivered its verdict on those who ignored its warnings.

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