By Dr Abucar Aden Cadde

Somalia has survived colonial partition, civil war, terrorism, famine, and repeated political crises. Yet the gravest danger it faces today comes not from abroad but from within: the failure of its political class to govern as one nation rather than as competing factions.
It is worth recalling that Somalia’s federalism was never a system designed and imposed top-down. It emerged de facto out of the state collapse of 1991, as regions organized themselves independently amid the vacuum left by civil war. That reality was later given legal form — first by the 2004 Transitional Federal Charter, which established the Transitional Federal Government and formally recognized a federal structure as the basis for reconstituting the state, and then by the 2012 Provisional Constitution, which entrenched federalism as the governing framework of the Federal Republic. Federalism, in other words, was a negotiated response to an existing fact on the ground — not an ideological blueprint imposed on a unitary state. Understanding this origin matters: much of today’s friction stems from the fact that the system was built to accommodate a fractured post-war reality before its institutions, revenue-sharing arrangements, and constitutional boundaries were fully worked out.
That unfinished business is now compounded by a more direct betrayal: the same leaders who took office under the Provisional Constitution are, in practice, undermining the very federal system it establishes. Term extensions without constitutional basis, unilateral changes to electoral processes, and the selective application of federal law all weaken the framework that gave these leaders their legitimacy in the first place. A constitution cannot anchor a federal system if the officials elected under it treat its provisions as negotiable whenever they become inconvenient.
This is now the country’s central liability. The Federal Government and the Federal Member States too often act as rivals rather than constitutional partners, spending their energy contesting authority instead of coordinating policy. The cost falls on ordinary Somalis: each month lost to political disputes is a month without better schools, hospitals, roads, jobs, or security.
Beneath this dysfunction lies a deeper problem — the absence of a national identity that consistently outweighs clan calculation. Clan remains a legitimate part of Somali social life, but when it becomes the primary currency of politics, national institutions cannot mature. The current impasse between the Federal Government and opposition figures is a symptom of this: political competition is healthy, but only within constitutional bounds and a culture of dialogue and compromise. Left unresolved, this polarization risks reversing hard-won gains.
Border security and cross-border migration also demand serious, evidence-based national debate — not neglect, and not exploitation for political advantage. So does the persistent erosion of public trust from corruption and weak governance, despite the billions in international support Somalia has received. Transparency and competent administration are prerequisites for state-building, not optional extras.
Somalia’s underlying assets remain considerable: a strategic position at the mouth of the Red Sea, Africa’s longest mainland coastline, natural resources, an entrepreneurial population, and an engaged global diaspora. But potential does not build a state — vision, discipline, and leadership do.
Nations rarely collapse overnight; they erode gradually, as leaders normalize division, hollow out institutions, and trade long-term national interest for short-term expediency. The responsibility for reversing this pattern lies first with Somalia’s political leadership, whose legacy will be judged not by the offices they held but by whether they strengthened the Republic, upheld its Constitution, and improved citizens’ lives.
Federalism is not the enemy — dysfunctional federalism is. Opposition is not the enemy — paralysis is. Regional diversity is not the enemy — the absence of national purpose is.
Somalia’s future depends less on the ambitions of individual politicians or clans than on whether the country can re-embrace one governing principle: Somalia must come before faction, region, or clan. If that principle prevails, Somalia’s prospects remain bright. If it does not, the greatest threat to the Republic will come not from abroad, but from the failure of its own leaders to protect what has been entrusted to them.m, famine, and repeated political crises. Yet the gravest danger it faces today comes not from abroad but from within: the failure of its political class to govern as one nation rather than as competing factions.
It is worth recalling that Somalia’s federalism was never a system designed and imposed top-down. It emerged de facto out of the state collapse of 1991, as regions organized themselves independently amid the vacuum left by civil war. That reality was later given legal form — first by the 2004 Transitional Federal Charter, which established the Transitional Federal Government and formally recognized a federal structure as the basis for reconstituting the state, and then by the 2012 Provisional Constitution, which entrenched federalism as the governing framework of the Federal Republic. Federalism, in other words, was a negotiated response to an existing fact on the ground — not an ideological blueprint imposed on a unitary state. Understanding this origin matters: much of today’s friction stems from the fact that the system was built to accommodate a fractured post-war reality before its institutions, revenue-sharing arrangements, and constitutional boundaries were fully worked out.
That unfinished business is now compounded by a more direct betrayal: the same leaders who took office under the Provisional Constitution are, in practice, undermining the very federal system it establishes. Term extensions without constitutional basis, unilateral changes to electoral processes, and the selective application of federal law all weaken the framework that gave these leaders their legitimacy in the first place. A constitution cannot anchor a federal system if the officials elected under it treat its provisions as negotiable whenever they become inconvenient.
This is now the country’s central liability. The Federal Government and the Federal Member States too often act as rivals rather than constitutional partners, spending their energy contesting authority instead of coordinating policy. The cost falls on ordinary Somalis: each month lost to political disputes is a month without better schools, hospitals, roads, jobs, or security.
Beneath this dysfunction lies a deeper problem — the absence of a national identity that consistently outweighs clan calculation. Clan remains a legitimate part of Somali social life, but when it becomes the primary currency of politics, national institutions cannot mature. The current impasse between the Federal Government and opposition figures is a symptom of this: political competition is healthy, but only within constitutional bounds and a culture of dialogue and compromise. Left unresolved, this polarization risks reversing hard-won gains.
Border security and cross-border migration also demand serious, evidence-based national debate — not neglect, and not exploitation for political advantage. So does the persistent erosion of public trust from corruption and weak governance, despite the billions in international support Somalia has received. Transparency and competent administration are prerequisites for state-building, not optional extras.
Somalia’s underlying assets remain considerable: a strategic position at the mouth of the Red Sea, Africa’s longest mainland coastline, natural resources, an entrepreneurial population, and an engaged global diaspora. But potential does not build a state — vision, discipline, and leadership do.
Nations rarely collapse overnight; they erode gradually, as leaders normalize division, hollow out institutions, and trade long-term national interest for short-term expediency. The responsibility for reversing this pattern lies first with Somalia’s political leadership, whose legacy will be judged not by the offices they held but by whether they strengthened the Republic, upheld its Constitution, and improved citizens’ lives.
Federalism is not the enemy — dysfunctional federalism is. Opposition is not the enemy — paralysis is. Regional diversity is not the enemy — the absence of national purpose is.
Somalia’s future depends less on the ambitions of individual politicians or clans than on whether the country can re-embrace one governing principle: Somalia must come before faction, region, or clan. If that principle prevails, Somalia’s prospects remain bright. If it does not, the greatest threat to the Republic will come not from abroad, but from the failure of its own leaders to protect what has been entrusted to them.

A WDM Editorial

Check out this video, ahmed cali cigaal

There are public figures who occupy office, and there are public figures who occupy the hearts of a people. Ahmed Ali Egal belonged unmistakably to the latter.
With his passing, Puntland—and Somalia as a whole—has lost not merely a singer or a poet, but one of the enduring custodians of Somali cultural memory. His was a voice that entertained without becoming trivial, inspired without becoming arrogant, and united without demanding allegiance. Such figures are rare in any generation.
Ahmed Ali Egal understood something many politicians never do: nations are sustained not only by constitutions and governments but by songs, poetry, language, and shared memory. Where politicians often divided, artists like him reminded Somalis of what they still held in common.
His music carried the rhythm of the Somali soul. His poetry reflected both the beauty and the burdens of a people who have endured conflict, displacement, and political fragmentation. He belonged to Puntland by origin, but his artistic legacy belonged to every Somali who ever found hope, comfort, or pride in his words.
In times when public life is increasingly dominated by political quarrels, clan rivalries, and endless constitutional disputes, the death of a cultural icon is a sobering reminder of what truly outlives power. Presidents leave office. Governments rise and fall. Political slogans fade. But the songs that become part of a people’s identity endure for generations.
That is why Ahmed Ali Egal’s passing deserves to be mourned not as the loss of an entertainer, but as the departure of a national treasure.
A society that fails to honour its artists slowly loses its memory. Cultural figures preserve the emotional history of a nation. They teach values that no legislation can enforce and inspire unity that no political decree can command. Somalia desperately needs more builders of culture and fewer merchants of division.
Today, we extend our deepest condolences to his family, friends, colleagues, admirers, and to the people of Puntland and Somalia everywhere.
May his poetry continue to be recited.
May his songs continue to be sung.
May his example remind future generations that true greatness is measured not by political office or military rank, but by the lasting imprint one leaves upon the conscience of a people.
Ahmed Ali Egal has departed this world.
His voice has not.
Rest in peace, cultural giant. Somalia is richer because you lived, and poorer because you are gone.