By WDM – Commentary and Critical Analysis

Politics in Somalia has always suffered from one incurable disease: the belief that what cannot be achieved through ideas can somehow be accomplished through intrigue. Whenever leaders exhaust vision, they compensate with conspiracy. Whenever they fail to persuade, they begin searching for shortcuts. It is an old Somali political habit, and like many bad habits, it refuses to die.
Today, political rumours once again swirl around alleged efforts to destabilize Puntland. Whether these whispers mature into political action or remain the product of Mogadishu’s rumor mills is almost secondary. What matters is the mindset behind them—the persistent illusion that Puntland is merely a temporary political arrangement waiting to collapse if enough pressure is applied.
That illusion has survived for nearly three decades. Reality has survived even longer.
Former President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, whose constitutional mandate has long expired,  and who now finds himself politically isolated in Villa Somalia, appears determined to replay familiar political scripts instead of confronting the country’s deeper governance crisis. When leaders run out of legitimacy, they often seek relevance through confrontation. Unfortunately, Somalia has witnessed this pattern too many times.
Meanwhile, Puntland President Said Abdullahi Deni remains remarkably consistent—perhaps too consistent. His governing philosophy often appears to be waiting until events force his hand. Initiative is replaced by reaction. Strategy gives way to improvisation. Rather than shaping political events, his administration frequently appears occupied with responding to them after they have already unfolded.
If political pressure emerges, Puntland deserves proactive leadership, not permanent crisis management.
Yet this debate is larger than either Hassan Sheikh Mohamud or Said Abdullahi Deni.
Every few years, Garowe experiences a familiar political ritual. A handful of dissatisfied political actors suddenly rediscover revolutionary enthusiasm. Prosperity becomes boring. Stability becomes unfashionable. Comfort somehow becomes a political problem requiring dramatic correction.
It is a uniquely Somali paradox.
Communities spend decades constructing institutions, restoring security, attracting investment, and rebuilding public confidence. Then, just as normal life begins to resemble normality, someone inevitably concludes that the entire house requires shaking—simply because it has stood peacefully for too long.
Political déjà vu becomes a national pastime.
Some observers attribute such cycles to shifting alliances or local grievances. Others see external encouragement. Whatever the explanation, history offers one stubborn lesson that every aspiring political engineer eventually discovers.
Puntland was not manufactured in Villa Somalia.
It was not designed by foreign embassies.
It was not created through presidential decree.
It emerged from grassroots political consensus, historical necessity, local reconciliation, and the determination of its own society after the collapse of the Somali state. Institutions born from society cannot easily be erased by politicians operating outside that society.
This is precisely the strategic mistake repeatedly made by Puntland’s opponents.
They confuse governments with states.
Governments come and go.
Presidents win elections, lose elections, resign, retire, or are replaced.
States endure because society sustains them.
Even if Said Abdullahi Deni were to leave office tomorrow, Puntland would remain.
Even if every cabinet minister resigned, Puntland would remain.
Even if every politician changed sides, Puntland’s social and historical foundations would remain.
That is the difference between a political administration and a historical political entity.
Those imagining that Puntland can be dismantled through outside pressure fundamentally misunderstand what they are confronting. They are attempting to negotiate with history itself.
History rarely negotiates.
The greatest satire in this entire drama is that politicians continue believing they possess powers they have never demonstrated. Every few years someone confidently announces the impending collapse of Puntland. Every few years Puntland continues existing while the political prophets quietly disappear into Somalia’s long archive of failed predictions.
Reality has an unpleasant habit of humiliating political fantasies.
None of this excuses Puntland’s own leadership shortcomings. Reform is necessary. Accountability is necessary. Better governance is necessary. Strategic vision is urgently necessary.
But there is an equally important political truth.
If Puntland is ever to experience genuine regime change, it will come from Puntland society itself—through its elders, intellectuals, political class, civil society, constitutional processes, and ultimately its own people.
It will not be manufactured in Mogadishu.
It will not be imported through political intrigue.
It will not be engineered by disgruntled factions hoping outside sponsorship can substitute for public legitimacy.
Those still entertaining such ambitions would benefit from studying Puntland’s history before attempting to rewrite it.
Political reality is a far more stubborn opponent than political imagination.