By Dr. Abucar Aden Adde

Virginia, USA.

History warns those who are willing to listen.

In his study of Fascist Italy’s colonial ambitions, Dr. Abucar Aden Adde draws attention to an entry in Galeazzo Ciano’s diary in which Benito Mussolini reportedly discussed the possibility of turning Majeerteenia (Migiurtinia) into a concession for international Jewish settlement because of its strategic location and natural resources. Whether such a proposal was ever realistic is less important than what it reveals: powerful states have long viewed Somali territory through the prism of their own interests. Ref: (https://ismailwarsame.blog/2026/07/24/when-fascist-europe-looked-to-puntland-a-forgotten-diplomatic-note-and-the-strategic-value-of-majeerteenia-2/).

The lesson is timeless. Somalia’s sovereignty has never been guaranteed by geography alone. It has depended—and still depends—on the strength, unity, and vision of its own people.

Today, Somalia’s greatest danger is not an invading army or a foreign conspiracy. It is internal weakness. Political fragmentation, corruption, fragile institutions, clan rivalries, and the absence of long-term national vision have created openings that external actors naturally exploit. Weak states invite influence; strong states command respect.

Too much of Somali politics remains trapped in short-term survival. Leaders compete for power rather than build institutions. Clan calculations outweigh national priorities. Personal ambition replaces public service. As trust in government declines, the state’s ability to defend its sovereignty weakens.

Foreign governments will always pursue their own strategic, economic, and security interests. That is the nature of international politics. Somalia’s responsibility is not to expect others to safeguard its sovereignty, but to build institutions capable of safeguarding it itself.

Somalia possesses extraordinary advantages: the longest coastline on mainland Africa, vast marine resources, a youthful population, and a strategic location linking Africa, the Middle East, and the Indian Ocean. But potential without vision produces little. Prosperity requires competent leadership, accountable institutions, and a shared commitment to the national interest.

The warning preserved in Ciano’s diary is therefore not about a proposal that never materialized. It is about a political truth that remains relevant today: weak states invite outside designs.

Somalia’s future will not be decided in foreign capitals. It will be decided by whether Somalis choose unity over division, institutions over personalities, merit over patronage, and national vision over clan politics.

History has already delivered its warning. The responsibility now belongs to this generation.

Warsame Policy & Media Network (WAPMEN)
Critical analysis, news and commentaries

A WPMEN Editorial — July 24, 2026

History has an uncomfortable habit of exposing truths that modern politics prefers to ignore. One such truth lies buried in an obscure Italian diplomatic note from 1938 — only a few lines long, yet revealing how the world’s great powers once viewed what is today Puntland.

In his diary entry of 30 August 1938, Italian Foreign Minister Galeazzo Ciano recorded a striking conversation with Benito Mussolini. According to Ciano’s account, the Duce spoke of a plan to turn Migiurtinia into a concession for international Jewish settlement, citing the region’s considerable natural resources as grounds for exploitation.

This was not an offhand remark. It came at the highest levels of Fascist Italy, at a moment when Europe was marching toward the Second World War — while Mussolini was weighing Hitler’s designs on Czechoslovakia, he was also contemplating the future of Migiurtinia (Majeerteenia) in northeastern Somalia.

The significance is hard to overstate. The region was not viewed as a barren colonial outpost; it was regarded as territory with genuine economic value — an assessment made by the colonial administration itself, an authority whose only real interest was extracting profit from conquered land.

A Region Undervalued by Its Own

Today, many Somalis casually dismiss Puntland as merely another federal member state. Yet eighty-eight years ago, one of Europe’s most expansionist regimes considered the region significant enough to feature in high-level geopolitical planning. That contrast should prompt some hard questions: What did Italian colonial planners understand about Puntland’s economic potential that successive Somali governments have failed to investigate or develop? Why did foreign powers recognize strategic value in the region while contemporary Somali politics remained — and remains — mired in clan rivalry and constitutional dispute?

History repeatedly shows that outsiders often see a country’s value before its own leaders do. Puntland sits on one of the world’s most strategically important maritime crossroads, commanding the approaches to the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean. Its coastline runs more than 1,600 kilometres, and it holds rich fisheries, untapped mineral prospects, hydrocarbon potential, and direct access to one of the busiest trade corridors on Earth. None of this is a recent discovery — colonial planners understood it nearly a century ago.

Strategic Value and the Roots of Federalism

The 1938 note also sheds light on something else that is often overlooked: Puntland’s role as the principal champion of a federal Somalia was not a political accident. It was grounded in the region’s own history and geography. For centuries, the Majeerteen Sultanate maintained functioning political institutions, maritime commerce, and diplomatic relations with foreign powers. Italy’s own assessment of the region’s strategic and economic worth — Mussolini’s remark included — was simply another acknowledgment of what was never an ordinary colonial possession.

When the Somali state collapsed in 1991, Puntland’s founders did not call for a return to an all-powerful centralized government. They understood, from hard experience, that concentrating authority in Mogadishu had repeatedly produced instability, exclusion, and eventual collapse. Instead, they envisioned a Somalia built on the devolution of power, constitutional power-sharing, and regional self-government within a united state — a vision rooted in historical reality, not emotion or opportunism. A region that had long exercised meaningful political autonomy, and understood its own strategic worth, naturally concluded that Somalia’s future depended on sharing power rather than monopolizing it.

Puntland’s founding in 1998, and its sustained advocacy for federalism since, therefore amounted to more than a regional political project — it became the intellectual and constitutional blueprint for rebuilding Somalia after civil war. Whatever one thinks of federalism today, it is hard to deny that this vision emerged from lived historical experience rather than political convenience.

A Missed Strategic Opportunity

There is a real irony here: Fascist Italy recognized Puntland’s importance almost ninety years ago, however cynically, in service of imperial ambition — yet many Somali politicians today still underestimate the very region that supplied the constitutional framework on which modern Somalia now rests. Rather than building institutions capable of unlocking this potential, successive governments have spent their energy on political intrigue, centralization battles, and zero-sum struggles for power.

The note is also a reminder that Somalia has never existed in geopolitical isolation. External powers have always viewed Somali territory through a strategic lens — sometimes military bases, sometimes maritime routes, sometimes natural resources, and, as this note suggests, occasionally even demographic engineering.

To be clear, the lesson here is not that Mussolini’s proposal deserved consideration — it did not. It emerged from a fascist colonial worldview that treated occupied territories as assets to be disposed of without the consent of the people living there, a mentality that belongs in history’s museum of failed empires. The real lesson is different: if colonial powers saw Puntland as strategically indispensable in 1938, why have so many Somali leaders since failed to grasp its importance? Why has nearly a century passed without a coherent national strategy for developing one of the Horn of Africa’s most strategically located regions?

Conclusion

A nation that forgets how others once valued its territory risks undervaluing it itself. History is not simply about remembering the past — it is about understanding why powerful states make the decisions they do. The Fascists saw value in Majeerteenia because they were thinking strategically, even though their objectives were morally bankrupt. Modern Somali leaders can learn that strategic lesson without inheriting the colonial mindset behind it.

Puntland is not strategically important because Mussolini said so. His words matter only because they inadvertently confirm what serious geopolitical planners already understood: northeastern Somalia occupied an important place on the world’s strategic map long before today’s political disputes existed. Its later role as the champion of a devolved, federal Somalia was no historical accident — it was the logical political expression of a region whose history, geography, and institutional traditions had long set it apart within the Somali peninsula.

That reality has not changed. What has changed is the quality of leadership entrusted with managing it. The evidence is there. The question is whether Somalia is prepared to learn from it — or will keep letting others recognize Puntland’s value before its own leaders do.

It is politically convenient to blame Hassan Sheikh Mohamud for Somalia’s collapse. He deserves criticism for executive overreach, constitutional manipulation, and weakening democratic institutions. But to pretend that Somalia’s crisis begins and ends with one man is to misunderstand the disease.
Somalia’s governance crisis is a collective failure. All of us as citizens have failed.
The presidents of the Federal Member States cannot wash their hands of responsibility. Many condemned authoritarianism only after it turned against them. Before that, they tolerated it, legitimized it, or quietly benefited from it. No story illustrates this better than that of Abdulaziz Hassan Mohamed “Lafta Gareen.” He stood firmly behind Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s political project as Villa Somalia steadily accumulated power. The weakening of constitutional checks and balances did not alarm him because the system appeared to serve his own interests. But power built on expediency rarely remains loyal. Once Lafta Gareen had served his political purpose, he too found himself cast aside by the very system he had helped sustain.
The lesson should not be lost on Sheikh Aden Madoobe, who now occupies the position Lafta Gareen once held through a political process widely criticized by opponents. Those who believe proximity to Villa Somalia guarantees political survival should study Somalia’s recent history carefully. Nor should Ahmed Abdi Kaariye “Qoor Qoor” ignore the warning. His current political difficulties increasingly resemble the trajectory that ended Lafta Gareen’s dominance. In Somalia’s politics, today’s trusted ally can become tomorrow’s expendable liability once political calculations change. The machinery of unconstitutional power has no permanent beneficiaries—it eventually consumes many of those who helped build it.
As Villa Somalia accumulated power, other regional leaders also remained silent because the same concentration of power served their own political interests. Federalism was never meant to produce miniature dictatorships. Yet that is precisely what much of Somalia has become.
Nor are international donors innocent bystanders.
For years, billions of dollars have poured into Somalia in the name of state-building, while institutions remained weak and political elites became stronger. Too often, aid has reinforced patronage networks instead of dismantling them. Stability became the overriding objective; accountability became an afterthought. The result is a political economy in which access to donor resources matters more than delivering public services or respecting constitutional governance.
This is why replacing Hassan Sheikh Mohamud alone will solve nothing.
If the same political culture survives, the next president will inherit—and likely exploit—the very same machinery of patronage, elite bargaining, and institutional capture. Somalia does not merely have a leadership problem; it has a governance system that rewards impunity and punishes accountability.
The country needs more than a change of faces. It needs a return to constitutional rule, genuine checks and balances, empowered legislatures, an independent judiciary, transparent federal-state relations, and donor assistance tied to measurable institutional reforms rather than political expediency.
Until federal leaders, regional presidents, and international partners all accept their share of responsibility, Somalia will continue to change presidents while preserving the very system that keeps failing its people.
The tragedy is not that one leader has failed. The tragedy is that an entire political class—and too many of its international partners—have learned how to survive by managing failure instead of ending it. Unless that political culture changes, Lafta Gareen will not be the last ally to discover that unconstitutional power protects no one—not even those who once believed they were indispensable.

A WDM Editorial

History has an uncomfortable habit of exposing truths that modern politics prefers to ignore. One such truth lies buried in an obscure Italian diplomatic note from 1938. It is only a few lines long, yet it speaks volumes about how the world’s great powers once viewed what is today Puntland.
In his diary entry of 30 August 1938, Italian Foreign Minister Galeazzo Ciano recorded a remarkable conversation with Benito Mussolini:

The Translation of the note:
“The Duce… also informs me of his plan to make Migiurtinia a concession for international Jews. He says that the country has considerable natural resources that the Jews could exploit…”

Pause and think about that.
This was not an offhand remark. It was a discussion taking place at the highest levels of Fascist Italy while Europe was marching toward the Second World War. Mussolini was simultaneously discussing Adolf Hitler’s plans over Czechoslovakia and contemplating the future of Migiurtinia (Majeerteenia) in northeastern Somalia.
The significance is profound.
The region was not viewed as a barren colonial outpost. It was regarded as a territory possessing “considerable natural resources.” That assessment came from the colonial administration itself—people whose primary interest was extracting economic value from conquered lands.
Today, many Somalis casually dismiss Puntland as merely another federal member state. Yet eighty-eight years ago, one of Europe’s most expansionist regimes considered the region sufficiently valuable to feature in high-level geopolitical planning.
This should force Somalis to ask difficult questions.
What did Italian colonial planners know about Puntland’s economic potential that successive Somali governments have failed to investigate or develop? Why were foreign powers already identifying strategic value in the region while contemporary Somali politics remains trapped in endless clan rivalries and constitutional disputes?
History repeatedly demonstrates that outsiders often recognize the value of a country before its own leaders do.
Puntland occupies one of the world’s most strategic maritime locations. It commands the approaches to the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean. Its coastline stretches for more than 1,600 kilometres. It possesses rich fisheries, untapped mineral prospects, hydrocarbon potential, and access to one of the world’s busiest maritime trade corridors.
These are not recent discoveries. Colonial planners understood them nearly a century ago.
The 1938 diplomatic note also illuminates another historical reality that many observers continue to overlook. Puntland’s emergence as the principal champion of a federal Somalia was not an accident of modern politics. It was grounded in its own history, geography, and strategic importance.
For centuries, the Majeerteen Sultanate maintained functioning political institutions, maritime commerce, and diplomatic relations with foreign powers. During the colonial period, Italy itself regarded the region as strategically valuable because of its location and natural wealth. Mussolini’s reference to Migiurtinia was yet another acknowledgment that this was no ordinary colonial possession.
When the Somali state collapsed in 1991, Puntland’s founders did not advocate the return of an all-powerful centralized government. They understood from history that concentrating authority in Mogadishu had repeatedly produced instability, exclusion, and eventually state collapse. Instead, they envisioned a new Somalia based on the devolution of power, constitutional power-sharing, and regional self-government within a united Somali state.
That vision was neither emotional nor opportunistic. It reflected historical reality. A region that had long exercised significant political autonomy and understood its strategic value naturally concluded that Somalia’s future depended upon sharing power rather than monopolizing it.
The establishment of Puntland in 1998 and its subsequent advocacy for federalism therefore represented far more than a regional political project. It became the intellectual and constitutional blueprint for rebuilding Somalia after civil war. Whether one supports or opposes federalism today, it is impossible to deny that Puntland’s federal vision emerged from historical experience rather than political expediency.
Ironically, while Fascist Italy recognized Puntland’s strategic importance almost ninety years ago for imperial ambitions, many Somali politicians today continue to underestimate the very region that supplied the constitutional framework upon which modern Somalia now rests.
Unfortunately, Somalia’s political class has rarely demonstrated comparable strategic thinking. Instead of building institutions capable of unlocking this immense potential, successive governments have devoted their energies to political intrigue, centralization battles, and zero-sum struggles for power.
The 1938 diplomatic note also reminds us that Somalia has never existed in geopolitical isolation. External powers have always viewed Somali territory through strategic calculations. Sometimes those calculations involved military bases. Sometimes maritime routes. Sometimes natural resources. Occasionally, as this note suggests, even demographic engineering.
The lesson is not that Mussolini’s proposal deserved consideration—it did not. It emerged from a fascist colonial worldview that treated occupied territories as assets to be disposed of without the consent of their inhabitants. That mentality belongs in history’s museum of failed empires.
The real lesson is different.
If colonial powers regarded Puntland as strategically indispensable in 1938, why do so many Somali leaders today fail to appreciate its importance? Why has nearly a century passed without a coherent national strategy for developing one of the Horn of Africa’s most strategically located regions?
A nation that forgets how others valued its territory risks undervaluing it itself.
History is not merely about remembering the past. It is about understanding why powerful states make the decisions they do. The Fascists saw value in Majeerteenia because they were thinking strategically—even if their objectives were morally bankrupt.
Modern Somali leaders should learn the strategic lesson without inheriting the colonial mindset.
Puntland is not strategically important because Mussolini said so. Mussolini’s words matter because they inadvertently reveal what serious geopolitical planners already understood: northeastern Somalia occupied an important place on the world’s strategic map long before today’s political disputes.
The fact that Puntland later envisioned and championed a new Somalia based on the devolution of power was therefore no historical accident. It was the logical political expression of a region whose historical experience, strategic location, and institutional traditions had long distinguished it within the Somali peninsula.
That reality has not changed.
What has changed is the quality of leadership entrusted with managing it.
History has preserved the evidence. The question is whether Somalia is prepared to learn from it—or continue allowing others to recognize the value of Puntland before its own leaders do.