Ahmed Farah Yare responds to the article: Candour Over Convenience: President Deni’s Tribute to Abdullahi Yusuf and the Puntland Story
President Said Abdullahi Deni’s tribute to his predecessor, Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed — founder of Puntland State and later President of Somalia’s Transitional Federal Government — is a fitting reminder of what good leadership looks like. It offers society both the lessons worth learning and the mistakes worth avoiding. It is a rare trait among sitting leaders to honor their predecessors rather than diminish them. By recognizing Abdullahi Yusuf’s legacy, Deni reinforces political continuity, models a culture of institutional respect, and gives the public a clearer sense of Puntland’s founding purpose and historical trajectory. This kind of gesture is not incidental. Great leaders distinguish themselves not only by their own achievements but by how they treat those who came before them — and how deliberately they cultivate the next generation of capable administrators. In doing so, they ensure that a state’s gains are sustained rather than reset with each transition of power, and that regional progress compounds over time instead of starting from zero.
Puntland’s 28th anniversary should be more than ceremony. It is an occasion to reckon with the history that produced it, the sacrifices behind its institutions, and the challenges that still test them. Puntland’s story cannot be told through 28 years alone. Decades of struggle of its residents preceded its foundation It was shaped by resistance to tyranny and collapse of Somalia’s central state, the civil war that followed, and the human devastation — displacement, lost lives, destroyed livelihoods, dismantled institutions — that drove communities across the country, including Puntland, to seek order through self-governance. What exists today was built through loss, compromise, and the sustained effort of generations. It is a historical inheritance, not the property of any administration, faction, or leader. Twenty-Eight Years of Challenges Since 1998, Puntland has faced internal political disputes, armed confrontation, boundary disputes, piracy and maritime crime, terrorism, clan tension, and recurring conflict with Somalia’s federal government over the shape of federalism itself. Its coastline has made it a target for smuggling and organized crime, while extremist groups — most notably the Islamic State-linked militants entrenched in the Golis Mountains — have exploited insecurity and geographic isolation, prompting sustained counter-insurgency operations. Sool remains the sharpest test. The question of SSC-Khaatumo cannot be set aside within Puntland’s history, as these territories still constitutionally form part of Puntland State. That question hangs unresolved and must be addressed — a matter further complicated by Somaliland and the Federal Government’s own competing claims in the region. Puntland State’s disputes with the Mogadishu Regime have been similarly strained by disagreements over constitutional violations, elections, and resource-sharing — culminating in Puntland’s March 2024 decision to withdraw recognition of the Federal Government after parliament passed constitutional amendments Puntland considers illegitimate. Puntland has since operated with what it calls “the powers of an independent state based on both Federal and State constitutions,” pending an inclusive constitutional process of the federal arrangements. That Puntland has preserved institutional continuity through all of this is itself the measure of its resilience. The Risk of Fragmentation Political disagreement is normal; it becomes dangerous when turned into institutional confrontation, or when clan identity is used as a political weapon rather than treated as one thread of Somali social life. Clan should never substitute for constitutional authority or shield anyone from accountability. Puntland’s future cannot rest on manipulating clan divisions or personal rivalries. It requires constitutional institutions, the rule of law, and public accountability to sit above narrow political calculation — with lawful, institutional means, not informal pressure, as the response when that line is crossed. The Responsibility Ahead Entering its 29th year, Puntland’s task is neither complacency nor nostalgia, but renewed commitment to: Institutional integrity and constitutional governance, The rule of law and equal accountability, Political dialogue over confrontation National unity and social cohesion, Professional, disciplined security institutions, Defense of Puntland’s territorial and political interests through lawful means, Counter-terrorism and prevention of violent extremism, Sustainable economic and social development, and Accountable political leadership. None of this is secured by dismantling institutions, deepening division, or concentrating power without checks. It is secured by strengthening institutions and keeping political authority subject to law. Conclusion Puntland’s 28th anniversary is not only a marker of distance traveled — it is a reminder of what was spent to travel it. The responsibility of this generation is not just to celebrate what was built, but to protect, reform, and strengthen it, so that the sacrifices behind it were not made in vain.
As Puntland marks its 28th Anniversary, it is fitting to reflect on the leadership that shaped its journey. The images above symbolize two generations of that story: Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed, the founding president who led Puntland’s establishment in 1998, and Said Abdullahi Deni, the current president whose recent tribute reaffirmed the importance of preserving Puntland’s institutional memory. Twenty-eight years after its establishment, Puntland remains one of the most significant political achievements in modern Somali history. Its existence was not accidental. It was born from the conviction that Somalia’s state collapse demanded institution-building rather than endless waiting for the restoration of authority in Mogadishu. That vision was championed by Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed and the generation that founded Puntland. They chose constitutional governance over anarchy, administration over chaos, and political order over warlordism. Their work demonstrated that functioning government could emerge even while much of Somalia remained engulfed in conflict. President Said Abdullahi Deni’s recent remarks honouring Abdullahi Yusuf were therefore more than a tribute to a predecessor. They were an affirmation that institutions endure only when successive leaders possess the confidence to acknowledge those who laid their foundations. In a political culture where predecessors are too often ignored or remembered only when politically convenient, such candour reflects statesmanship. Puntland’s greatest achievement has never been the success of one individual. It has been the endurance of its constitutional institutions across changing administrations and difficult political moments. Leaders come and go; institutions survive only when history is respected rather than rewritten. As Puntland celebrates twenty-eight years, the most meaningful tribute to its founders is not nostalgia but renewed commitment to the principles upon which the state was built: constitutionalism, the rule of law, accountable government, devolution of power, and service to the public. The legacy of Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed belongs to history. The responsibility of President Said Abdullahi Deni belongs to the present. Together, they represent two chapters of the same continuing story—a Puntland whose strength lies not in personalities, but in the institutions that continue to serve its people. Happy 28th Anniversary, Puntland State of Somalia. May the next generation preserve the courage to build, the wisdom to reform, and the integrity to honour history while shaping the future.
There are moments in politics when what is left unsaid reveals more than what is spoken. Then there are rarer moments when a leader chooses candour over convenience, history over political calculation, and institutional memory over personal rivalry. President Said Abdullahi Deni’s remarks at the launch of Ambassador Mohamed Abdi Affey’s book belonged to the latter category. Speaking about the late President Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed has never been politically effortless. His legacy remains one of the most consequential and contested in modern Somali history. To some, he was the uncompromising soldier who restored order from chaos and founded Puntland in 1998. To others, he was an authoritarian figure whose confrontational style shaped many of the political conflicts that followed. Like most nation-builders emerging from state collapse, he was neither saint nor villain. He was a historical actor operating in extraordinary circumstances. That is precisely why President Deni’s tribute mattered. Rather than reducing Abdullahi Yusuf to political symbolism or avoiding his legacy altogether, Deni acknowledged a simple historical reality: Puntland did not emerge by accident. It was a deliberate political project born from the conviction that waiting for the resurrection of a collapsed state in Mogadishu was no strategy at all. Puntland’s founders chose institution-building over paralysis, governance over anarchy, and constitutional order over endless warlordism. That decision changed Somalia’s political trajectory. Long before federalism became the accepted framework for rebuilding Somalia, Puntland had already demonstrated that functioning institutions could be constructed from the periphery outward. Whatever one’s opinion of Abdullahi Yusuf personally, that historical contribution cannot honestly be erased. Puntland became proof that Somalis could rebuild government even while the national state remained in ruins. Acknowledging that fact is not hero worship. It is historical integrity. Great political leaders understand that institutions are larger than individuals. They also understand that institutions cannot survive if every incoming administration rewrites history to suit its own political needs. Nations that erase their founders eventually lose sight of why they were founded in the first place. President Deni’s remarks reflected that understanding. By speaking respectfully of a predecessor whose legacy remains politically sensitive, he positioned himself not as a competitor for historical credit but as a custodian of Puntland’s institutional continuity. That distinction matters. At a time when Puntland faces renewed constitutional disputes with the Federal Government, reaffirming the principles upon which Puntland itself was founded sends a powerful message. Puntland’s defence of constitutional federalism is not simply the policy of one administration. It is the continuation of a political philosophy established in 1998: that stable governance begins with functioning institutions, respect for constitutional order, and the devolution—not the monopolization—of political power. The setting made the message even more significant. Ambassador Mohamed Abdi Affey has observed Somali politics from regional and international vantage points for decades. A book launch attended by diplomats, policymakers, and scholars was an appropriate forum to remind both domestic and international audiences that Puntland’s history is part of the wider story of state-building in the Horn of Africa, not merely another chapter in Somalia’s endless political rivalries. History should neither canonize nor condemn without context. Abdullahi Yusuf’s record, like that of many founders, contains achievements, controversies, successes, and failures. Historians will continue debating his methods and decisions, and they should. Mature societies do not fear such debates. They encourage them. What deserves recognition is President Deni’s willingness to engage that history without resorting to either convenient silence or selective remembrance. That is what statesmanship looks like. The strongest institutions are built not merely by those who found them, but by those who are secure enough to honour their foundations without becoming prisoners of personality cults. Puntland’s story belongs neither to Abdullahi Yusuf alone nor to any administration that followed him. It belongs to the people who chose constitutional governance over collapse and institutional continuity over political expediency. President Deni’s tribute served as a timely reminder that political maturity begins with historical honesty. Leaders come and go. Institutions endure only when successive generations possess the confidence to acknowledge both the triumphs and imperfections of those who came before. In Somali politics, where history is too often weaponized and predecessors are remembered only when politically useful, candour itself becomes an act of leadership. That may ultimately be the most enduring message of President Deni’s remarks.
Let’s stop hiding behind diplomatic pleasantries and face the brutal reality: Somalia is not a functioning sovereign republic. It is a hollowed-out, internationally subsidized welfare state on permanent life support. For decades, its national budget, its military apparatus, and its entire humanitarian sector have been completely bankrolled by financial injections from the United States and the European Union. The country is addicted to foreign charity. But what happens when the money stops? If this vital economic lifeline is abruptly severed while the nation remains completely encircled by Al-Shabaab, the myth of Somali unity and sovereignty will violently shatter. An immediate aid cutoff would not just cause a crisis—it would trigger an absolute catastrophe. Let’s be honest about the military: the Somali National Army (SNA) is fundamentally dependent on foreign cash for basic salaries, training, and logistics. Cut the Western funding, and the army collapses from within. Unpaid soldiers will desert, morale will hit zero, and mutinies will break out. At the same time, multilateral peacekeeping forces—who only stay because the EU and UN foot the bill—will pack up and leave overnight. This massive security vacuum will be an open invitation for Al-Shabaab. While Mogadishu goes bankrupt, Al-Shabaab remains financially self-sufficient through ruthless local extortion and illicit trade. They will out-source, out-gun, and out-maneuver a paralyzed central government, seizing territory at will and forcefully conscripting thousands of abandoned, desperate youths. Furthermore, let’s strip away the illusion of federal unity. The federal structure in Somalia is not bound by patriotism or shared national values; it is held together solely by the distribution of international cash managed by Mogadishu. The moment the federal government loses its ability to hand out foreign aid and development projects, its authority vanishes. Federal Member States will have absolutely zero incentive to look to the capital for leadership. Regions will bypass Mogadishu entirely, aggressively striking independent, treasonous security and economic deals with regional puppet-masters like Ethiopia, Kenya, or Gulf states just to survive. In the midst of this chaotic collapse, the ultimate fracture of the old union will become irreversible. Somaliland, which has already maintained its own democratic governance, currency, and relative stability for decades, will definitively go its separate way. Freed from the anchors of Mogadishu’s endless instability, Somaliland will successfully achieve its long-sought objective and take its rightful seat as a fully recognized, independent UN member nation. This political fragmentation will leave the rest of the country in a state of brutal balkanization, dragging the remaining southern regions right back into bloody, clan-based resource wars over ports, airports, and grazing lands. If the rest of the country survives this collapse, it won’t be because of its political class. A bankrupt Mogadishu will be forced into a humiliating scramble, begging non-Western powers for survival. Countries like Turkey, Qatar, the UAE, and China will gladly step into the vacuum—but their help will not be charity. They will demand geopolitical assets, military bases, and natural resources, renting out remaining Somali sovereignty to the highest bidder. Domestically, the government will finally be forced to strip the local business elite of their free ride, aggressively taxing powerhouse industries like telecommunications and remittance firms that have profited for years while contributing next to nothing to the state. Ultimately, the only thing standing between the population and total starvation will be the diaspora, whose remittances will become the final, desperate safety net for an abandoned population. The region must wake up from this delusion. Somali unity is a house of cards built on a foundation of foreign charity. If the West withdraws its support while terrorism knocks on the door, the federal system will implode. While Somaliland secures its independent future on the global stage, an aid-free southern Somalia will not be a unified nation. It will be a fractured, highly militarized failed state, forced to bargain away its dignity piece by piece just to keep the lights on.
Calling Somalia a “failed state” has become a reflex in international discourse. But repetition is not accuracy. Somalia’s failure is not the state itself — it is the recurring failure of those entrusted to lead it. States do not appoint relatives, reward loyalists, auction public property, or mistake personal power for national service. Leaders do. Somalia holds the fundamental ingredients for national success: a strategic location linking Africa, the Middle East, and global trade routes; abundant natural resources; a youthful population; and a society that has shown extraordinary resilience through decades of conflict and institutional fragility. The tragedy is not a lack of potential — it is the chronic failure of successive leaderships to convert that potential into governance. Patronage as Policy For decades, corruption, nepotism, and patronage have hollowed out Somalia’s public institutions. Public office is too often treated as private inheritance rather than public trust: merit waits outside while clan affiliation and political loyalty are shown in first. Somalia’s political elite have mastered one skill above all — turning temporary political arrangements into permanent systems of patronage. Where loyalty is promoted faster than competence, institutional performance becomes secondary to political survival, ministries manage coalitions rather than deliver services, and national planning gives way to the next political fire. Accountability mechanisms have fared no better. Oversight institutions remain weak, financial transparency inadequate, and enforcement inconsistent. When accountability becomes selective, corruption stops being individual misconduct and becomes an operating system — leaving citizens to wonder whether audits are meant to catch irregularities or simply record them. This is not merely a governance problem. Corruption and administrative dysfunction deter investment, constrain economic diversification, and drive youth unemployment. Weak institutions also blunt the state’s ability to counter terrorism, transnational crime, and illicit finance — no country can secure itself while hollowing out the institutions meant to provide that security. Speeches Without Reform Somalia has never lacked speeches promising reform; it has lacked reforms that survive the speech. Every administration arrives promising transformation; too many leave behind unfinished institutions and recycled slogans. If declarations built nations, Somalia would already rank among the most developed. Yet Somalia should not be defined by its governance failures alone. Its people continue to invest, educate, build businesses, and demonstrate more confidence in the country’s future than much of its political class has earned. The strategic location, growing commercial sector, regional integration, and youthful demography remain intact. What has been inconsistent is the leadership responsible for managing them. The Way Forward Somalia’s future depends less on inventing new institutions than on letting existing ones function with integrity and independence: constitutional governance, an impartial judiciary, transparent public finance, merit-based recruitment, and accountable security institutions. Above all, it requires leaders who treat public office as a constitutional responsibility, not a personal investment. Somalia’s obstacle is not a shortage of capable citizens or national resilience. It is the recurring habit of conflating the state with the government, the government with the ruling elite, and the national interest with personal survival. Countries rarely fail for want of ability — they falter when leadership chooses patronage over professionalism, and loyalty over competence. Somalia is not condemned to instability. Its challenge is not state failure — it is leadership failure. Once governance rewards merit over proximity and accountability over impunity, Somalia’s defining trait will no longer be its resilience in surviving bad leadership, but its capacity to prosper under good leadership.
Calling Somalia a “failed state” has become a reflex in international discourse. But repetition is not accuracy. Somalia’s failure is not the state itself — it is the recurring failure of those entrusted to lead it. States do not appoint relatives, reward loyalists, auction public property, or mistake personal power for national service. Leaders do. Somalia holds the fundamental ingredients for national success: a strategic location linking Africa, the Middle East, and global trade routes; abundant natural resources; a youthful population; and a society that has shown extraordinary resilience through decades of conflict and institutional fragility. The tragedy is not a lack of potential — it is the chronic failure of successive leaderships to convert that potential into governance. Patronage as Policy For decades, corruption, nepotism, and patronage have hollowed out Somalia’s public institutions. Public office is too often treated as private inheritance rather than public trust: merit waits outside while clan affiliation and political loyalty are shown in first. Somalia’s political elite have mastered one skill above all — turning temporary political arrangements into permanent systems of patronage. Where loyalty is promoted faster than competence, institutional performance becomes secondary to political survival, ministries manage coalitions rather than deliver services, and national planning gives way to the next political fire. Accountability mechanisms have fared no better. Oversight institutions remain weak, financial transparency inadequate, and enforcement inconsistent. When accountability becomes selective, corruption stops being individual misconduct and becomes an operating system — leaving citizens to wonder whether audits are meant to catch irregularities or simply record them. This is not merely a governance problem. Corruption and administrative dysfunction deter investment, constrain economic diversification, and drive youth unemployment. Weak institutions also blunt the state’s ability to counter terrorism, transnational crime, and illicit finance — no country can secure itself while hollowing out the institutions meant to provide that security. Speeches Without Reform Somalia has never lacked speeches promising reform; it has lacked reforms that survive the speech. Every administration arrives promising transformation; too many leave behind unfinished institutions and recycled slogans. If declarations built nations, Somalia would already rank among the most developed. Yet Somalia should not be defined by its governance failures alone. Its people continue to invest, educate, build businesses, and demonstrate more confidence in the country’s future than much of its political class has earned. The strategic location, growing commercial sector, regional integration, and youthful demography remain intact. What has been inconsistent is the leadership responsible for managing them. The Way Forward Somalia’s future depends less on inventing new institutions than on letting existing ones function with integrity and independence: constitutional governance, an impartial judiciary, transparent public finance, merit-based recruitment, and accountable security institutions. Above all, it requires leaders who treat public office as a constitutional responsibility, not a personal investment. Somalia’s obstacle is not a shortage of capable citizens or national resilience. It is the recurring habit of conflating the state with the government, the government with the ruling elite, and the national interest with personal survival. Countries rarely fail for want of ability — they falter when leadership chooses patronage over professionalism, and loyalty over competence. Somalia is not condemned to instability. Its challenge is not state failure — it is leadership failure. Once governance rewards merit over proximity and accountability over impunity, Somalia’s defining trait will no longer be its resilience in surviving bad leadership, but its capacity to prosper under good leadership.
Forget the framing of Somalia “risking” fragmentation. It is already happening. Three federal member states have suspended relations with Mogadishu since 2024. A breakaway region got its first-ever sovereign recognition in December. The president is governing on a legally contested term extension. This isn’t a warning sign — it’s the current state of play. What actually happened: Puntland pulled recognition of the federal government back in March 2024.[14] Jubaland followed in November 2024 after Mogadishu slapped a treason warrant on its president.[14] Then, on March 4–5, 2026, Parliament rammed through a permanent constitution — ending the 2012 provisional framework, extending presidential terms from four years to five, locking in a one-person-one-vote system — without Puntland, Jubaland, or the opposition coalition on board.[10],[8] President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s original mandate expired May 15, 2026. The new amendments retroactively gave him another year anyway.[9] The third state nobody’s talking about: South West State suspended ties with Mogadishu too, on March 17, 2026 — accusing the federal government of arming local militias and pushing unconstitutional centralization. The Somali Future Council (now Puntland + Jubaland + the Salvation Forum) backed the move within hours.[11] It didn’t last: the Somali National Army rolled in and installed a federal loyalist by March 30.[11] That’s the tell. Mogadishu is now willing to use troops, not just politics, to reverse a state’s defection — which means Puntland and Jubaland aren’t watching a hypothetical, they’re watching a preview. Somaliland got there first. On December 26, 2025, Israel recognized Somaliland as a sovereign, independent state — the first UN member ever to do so, after three decades of Somaliland governing itself with no international recognition at all.[1],[2] Netanyahu called it consistent with the Abraham Accords; Somaliland’s president said they’d seek to join.[1] Almost everyone else objected: 14 of 15 UN Security Council members pushed back at an emergency session (the US was the lone holdout),[3],[4],[5] and the African Union, the OIC, the Arab League, and IGAD all separately condemned it.[5],[6] None of that stopped Israel’s foreign minister from visiting Hargeisa a week and a half later.[7] Why the objections don’t matter as much as they sound: universal condemnation from every relevant regional body didn’t reverse anything. That’s the actual lesson for Puntland and Jubaland — international disapproval is not a check on this kind of move, it’s just noise that accompanies it. Who else has skin in the game: Turkey’s the biggest external player by far — CampTURKSOM, the Gorgor special forces it trained, a naval presence, and now F-16s based in Mogadishu since early 2026.[13] That buildup is tied to Mohamud personally, not to federal institutions broadly. Gulf states run their own relationships with Puntland’s and Somaliland’s ports directly. Add Israel’s new interest in Somaliland — including quiet talk of it as a relocation site for Gazans — and you’ve got a country where outside powers are increasingly betting on factions, not on Mogadishu. Where this goes: Two realistic outcomes remain. Either a negotiated confederation — foreign policy, currency, and defense held centrally, everything else devolved to regions that are already running themselves — or continued piecemeal fragmentation, state by state, with Mogadishu using force where it still can (South West State) and losing ground where it can’t (Puntland, Jubaland, Somaliland). A clean single breakup isn’t really on the table. This messier version already is.
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Sources Reuters, “Israel recognises Somaliland, Somalia’s breakaway region, as independent state,” December 26, 2025. CNN, “Somaliland: Israel becomes first country to formally recognize region as independent state,” December 26, 2025. Times of Israel, “UN Security Council to convene emergency meeting on Israel’s Somaliland recognition,” December 28, 2025. France 24, “UN ambassadors condemn Israel’s recognition of Somaliland,” December 30, 2025. Peoples Dispatch, “Global outcry against Israel’s recognition of Somaliland,” January 2, 2026. AllAfrica, “African Union Condemns Israel’s Recognition of Somaliland,” January 8, 2026. PassBlue, “Israeli Actions in Africa Complicate Somalia’s Presidency of the UN Security Council,” January 7, 2026. ConstitutionNet, “From Provisional to Permanent Constitution? Assessing the End of Somalia’s Constitutional Review Process.” ICNL, Somalia Civic Freedom Monitor, updated 2026. Eu SEE / Hivos, “Jubaland Opposition to Federal Constitutional Process Threatens Inclusive Civic Participation,” March 10, 2026. Horn Review, “Meles Zenawi’s Prescience: The Case for SWS, Puntland and Jubaland and the Domino Effect,” March 26, 2026. African Security Analysis, “Monthly Forecast: Somalia,” June 24, 2026. Middle East Forum, “Turkey Holds Somalia’s Constitution Hostage,” June 4, 2026. Wikipedia, “Constitutional Crisis in Somalia,” and “Israel–Somaliland relations.”
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