Once upon a post-war time, Somalia had nothing left holding it together except clan grudges, bullet holes, and a dusty little thing called the Provisional Federal Constitution — a transitional document so fragile that even a sneeze from Mogadishu could tear it apart. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t sacred scripture. But it was the last tube of glue keeping Somalia’s fractured clan plates from sliding off the table. And there was a clear rule: don’t mess with it until the Somaliland question is settled.

Enter President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud and his Damul Jadid club of power-gamblers — a group whose political philosophy can be summed up in three words: Siyad Barre Reloaded. These folks saw the glue, read the warning label, and decided to squeeze it for their own political collage project.

Federalism? Never Heard of It

In theory, federalism means the regions have a say. In practice, Hassan Sheikh thinks federalism means the regions can vote… as long as they vote yes. Damul Jadid’s version of “dialogue” is sending troops, starving states of funds, and rewriting the constitution behind closed doors while telling the rest of the country it’s all “for unity.”

It’s the same playbook that drove the old Somali Republic straight into the grave — only now they’ve added a few Twitter hashtags and donor-funded “constitutional review workshops” to make it look modern.

Tampering: From Siad Barre’s Playbook

The President’s political vision isn’t about reconciliation or consensus. It’s about owning the rules of the game — literally. If you control the constitution, you control the referees, the ball, and the scoreboard.

Back in the late ’80s, Siyad Barre played this game until the whole country exploded. Hassan Sheikh seems determined to run the same experiment, apparently convinced that the results will be different this time. (Spoiler: they won’t.)

The Civil War: Damul Jadid’s Season 2

Some say the civil war ended in 2004. Damul Jadid says: Hold my tea. This crew has found a new way to keep the war alive without all the messy tank battles — just pick apart the one legal document that prevents the regions from walking away completely. Call it civil war by pen.

Of course, the PR machine insists this is “reform.” But in Somalia, “reform” usually means: We couldn’t win under the old rules, so we changed them.

The Warning Label on Somalia’s Future

The Provisional Federal Constitution is the one thing every region reluctantly agreed to respect — a truce written in legalese. Destroy that, and you’re left with Mogadishu shouting orders into a vacuum while the peripheries quietly pack their bags.

Hassan Sheikh isn’t just tampering with the glue — he’s peeling the wallpaper off the walls and selling the bricks while calling it home renovation.

If this continues, the next chapter of Somalia’s history won’t be titled Nation Rebuilt. It’ll be Siyad Barre: The Sequel — starring Damul Jadid as the centralist dreamers who thought they could bully federalism into submission.

And as every Somali elder knows, sequels are usually worse than the original.

Byline: Warsame Digital Media Special Report | Garowe, Puntland 
August 13, 2025 

GAROWE, PUNTLAND – In a rare display of intellectual rigor and political transparency, Frontier University hosted a landmark public forum on Somalia’s fragile state-building efforts Tuesday night, headlined by presidential hopeful Nuradin Aden Dirie. 

Organized by the Puntland-based think tank “May Fakeraan“, the event drew academics, civil society leaders, students, and political observers into a spirited three-hour discourse on national reconstruction. At its center stood Deriye—a polyglot diplomat and emerging political force—who issued a stark warning: “Somalia remains mid-process in state formation. If we fail now, we risk vanishing from the map altogether.”

The Man in the Spotlight 
Dirie, a Xudur-born veteran of Somalia’s civil service and foreign postings, leveraged his multilingual fluency (Somali, May May Southwest dialect, English, Arabic, Italian, and French, to dissect governance challenges with uncommon precision. His address blended academic depth with charismatic delivery, dissecting institutional reform, federalism, and the urgent need for political maturity. 

Beyond Scripted Politics 
The forum broke from Puntland’s typically cautious political theater. Deriye’s unfiltered passion ignited a marathon Q&A where attendees grilled him on: 
– Tensions between federal and state governments 
– Systemic corruption 
– Youth exclusion from governance 
– Inter-regional distrust 
His evidence-backed replies, described by observers as “refreshingly unrehearsed,” drew repeated applause. 

Unscripted Impact 
Audience engagement defied the clock, with students and policymakers lingering long past the scheduled end—a testament to the discussion’s resonance. Multiple attendees called it “the most substantive political dialogue in Puntland in years,” praising Dirie’s willingness to address “taboo truths.” 

What’s Next 
“May Fakeraan” confirmed the debate will reconvene tonight, August 14, at Garowe’s Martisoor Hall to be hosted by different actors, and amplifying scrutiny on Somalia’s leadership vacuum. Deriye’s performance positions him not just as a policy voice, but as a credible contender in a nation hungry for change. 

End Report

Garowe, Puntland – WDM Special Report

In a rare evening of intellectual vigor and political candor, Frontier University in Garowe became the stage for one of the most compelling public forums Puntland has witnessed in recent years. Organized by a Puntland-based think tank (May Fakeraan), the event brought together academics, civil society leaders, students, and political observers for a night dedicated to one of Somalia’s most pressing challenges: state-building and nation-building.

The keynote speaker, Nuradin Aden Dirie, a seasoned diplomat and polyglot, is widely regarded as a rising political force — and a potential contender in Somalia’s next presidential race. “Somalia is still in the process of state formation, and if not done right, it risks disappearing altogether”, said Mr Dirie. Born in the historic town of Xudur in Southwest State, Deriye’s roots run deep across Somalia’s diverse cultural and linguistic landscapes. Beyond his native Somali, he commands English, Arabic, Italian, French, and the Somali May May dialect with equal fluency, an asset that has fortified his long civil service career and diplomatic engagements abroad.

From the outset, Dirie’s presence commanded attention. His delivery was marked by precision, charisma, and an effortless rapport with the audience — qualities that transformed the night into more than just a lecture. Drawing on decades of government service, foreign postings, and policy experience, he dissected the mechanics of nation-building in a fractured political environment. His message was one of unity, institutional reform, and the urgent need for political maturity in Somalia’s governance.

What set the evening apart was not just the content, but the energy. Unlike the cautious, scripted exchanges that often dominate Puntland’s political stage, Deriye’s engagement brimmed with passion and spontaneity. The Q&A segment stretched for hours, with attendees pressing him on federalism, inter-regional relations, corruption, and youth participation in governance. His answers were sharp, evidence-based, and delivered with an openness rarely seen among political figures.

The crowd — ranging from university students to veteran policymakers — lingered long after the scheduled close, a testament to both the relevance of the topic and the magnetic quality of the speaker. Several participants described the session as “unprecedented” in depth and sincerity for Puntland’s current political climate.

The dialogue is far from over. The think tank announced that the debate will resume tomorrow night at Martisoor, promising another round of high-stakes discourse in a political season where Somalia’s future leadership hangs in the balance.

If tonight’s performance was any indication, Nuradin Aden Dirie has placed himself firmly on the radar — not only as a thought leader on governance but as a formidable figure in the political contests ahead.

The end,

WDM Eyewitness Report

[This article has been updated after posting].

I arrived in Moscow in the autumn of 1985 (date imagined for privacy), a scholarship student from the Global South, carrying more than just a suitcase—I carried the idea that I was about to see socialism at its peak. The Soviet Union was, after all, a sverkhderzhava—a superpower—capable of defeating fascism, launching Sputnik, and standing toe-to-toe with America. I imagined a land of efficient planning, abundance, and ideological confidence.

But on my very first week, I stepped into a univermag (department store) and saw the truth: three lonely jars of pickled cabbage on an otherwise empty shelf. The shop smelled faintly of boiled beets and cheap soap. Outside, babushkas in headscarves sold sunflowers seeds by the paper cone, and queues snaked around the block for kolbasa (sausage) that might or might not arrive that day.

It was the first crack in the marble statue I’d built in my head.

Life in the Obshaga

My dormitory—the obshaga—was a towering concrete block in the grey sprawl of a mikrorayon (Soviet housing district). The hallways smelled perpetually of cabbage soup and cigarette smoke. Four of us shared a room the size of a pantry, furnished with creaky metal beds, a wobbly table, and a communal wardrobe that seemed older than Lenin.

The bathroom was down the corridor, shared by an entire floor. Hot water was a rumor more than a reality, and we learned to take po-kovboyski (“cowboy-style”) showers—quick splashes of cold water before running back to our rooms. At night, we gathered in the komnata otdykha (common room), where the walls were plastered with faded posters of Soviet heroes and a sagging couch hosted endless debates about Marx, Brezhnev, and football.

Foreign students—Africans, Asians, Latin Americans—were treated with a mix of curiosity and caution. Many Soviet students were warm and eager to make friends, but some whispered that we were inostrantsy (“foreigners”) with suspicious freedoms.

The First Pair of Levi’s

One evening, my Indian roommate returned from a trip abroad wearing Levi’s 501s—deep indigo, sharp creases, the unmistakable copper rivets. The reaction was electric. Soviet students ran their fingers over the fabric like it was gold thread. One offered his “khozyaistvenny” (utility) wristwatch in trade. Another asked if he could just wear them for one day—just to be seen in them.

These were more than pants—they were defitsit (scarce goods), symbols of the West’s abundance and individuality. I later learned they could fetch a month’s salary on the black market. In Moscow’s chernyy rynok (black market) near Izmailovsky Park, whispers of “Levi’s, Marlboro, gum” passed between strangers like spy codes.

The Gum That Made Me Popular

Chewing gum—zhevatel’naya rezinka—was my accidental weapon of soft power. My family sent me a care package from home with several packs of Wrigley’s Spearmint. I didn’t think much of it until I unwrapped one in the university cafeteria.

It was as if I had taken out bars of gold. Students leaned in, eyes wide. “Is that… American?” one whispered, glancing around as if the KGB might burst in. I handed out a few sticks, and my popularity soared. People chewed slowly, savoring every minute. Some washed their gum at night to “renew” the flavor. One girl told me she planned to keep hers until New Year’s Eve.

From then on, whenever I walked through campus, I’d hear my name called from across the quad, followed by, “Hey, do you have more gum?”

Moscow Streets and Forbidden Music

By day, Moscow was a mosaic of contradictions. The grandeur of Red Square, with Lenin’s Mausoleum and the bright onion domes of St. Basil’s, stood in sharp contrast to the endless lines of concrete apartment blocks in the suburbs. The wide prospekty (avenues) were flanked by giant propaganda billboards—smiling workers, tractors, and slogans like “Nasha tsel – kommunizm!” (“Our goal is communism!”).

But at night, the city changed. In the obshaga, radios were tuned carefully to forbidden stations—Voice of America, Radio Free Europe—through a hiss of static. I’ll never forget the night my Soviet friend Sasha invited me to his room. He pulled a thin, translucent disc from under his bed. It wasn’t vinyl—it was an old chest X-ray, cut into a rough circle, with grooves scratched into it. He placed it on the turntable, and the crackling strains of The Beatles’ Let It Be filled the room.

We sat in silence, barely breathing. That music—illegal, foreign—felt dangerous yet liberating. Sasha whispered, “They tell us this is capitalist poison… but it feels like truth.”

The Real Weakness

I had come believing the Soviet Union’s strength lay in its tanks, rockets, and ideology. But what I saw was that its real vulnerability was human desire—the longing for choice, color, and self-expression. No matter how many speeches the Party gave, they couldn’t make a pair of stiff, shapeless Soviet trousers feel like Levi’s. They couldn’t make “Soviet gum” taste like Wrigley’s, or a state-approved folk choir stir the heart like a Beatles song.

By the time I left Moscow, I could see the cracks widening. The young people I knew still loved their country, but the queues, the shortages, the dullness—they no longer felt like sacrifices for a greater cause. They felt like proof that somewhere else, life was simply better.

Years later, when the Soviet Union collapsed, I wasn’t surprised. I had already seen the quiet revolution. It didn’t come with tanks in the streets—it came with smuggled jeans, chewing gum, and music on bones.

History, I learned, can be toppled not only by bombs or revolutions, but also by a single stick of gum and a forbidden song.

[This is based on a true story].

Welcome to Puntland — the only place on earth where the free market is so free that even poison competes for shelf space. Here, “food safety” is just a colonial plot designed to keep honest merchants from adding that special local touch — whether it’s lead, formalin, or a sprinkling of last night’s cockroach dust.

In Garowe, the Ministry of Public Health operates much like a mirage — visible in speeches, absent in reality. Its budget was swallowed long ago, and now the only time you see the Minister is when he’s cutting a ribbon at a “Public Health Awareness Workshop” in a five-star hotel, smiling in front of a buffet table safer than anything outside the lobby.

Meanwhile, makeshift kiosks bloom overnight like political manifestos. They hawk counterfeit cigarettes, stuffed with God-knows-what, to boys whose lungs seem to have been nationalized. By fifteen, these boys cough out black smoke, but at least the shopkeeper can pay school fees — for his children in Dubai, where milk comes without worms.

And then there are the real survivors — the single mothers and abandoned wives of deadbeat fathers. You’ll find them squatting on dusty pavements or under tattered umbrellas, selling bundles of qaad leaves, the only crop guaranteed to keep the men awake for their political arguments. There’s no microcredit, no welfare, no training programs — just a relentless grind to feed five to ten children on a profit margin thinner than the leaf stalks in their hands. Their business license? Hunger. Their business hours? Until the last leaf wilts or the last coin clinks.

Accountability? In Puntland’s public health and economic sectors, it’s an imported luxury — rarer than Swiss chocolate and far more expensive. You could sue if tainted milk kills your child, but the court will first ask if you can pay the “inspection fee” for the judge’s afternoon tea.

And so, if you can’t trust the water, the milk, the meat, the air, or the economy… at least you can trust the government — to do absolutely nothing, with remarkable consistency.

President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud — the self-styled “Peacemaker-in-Chief” who manages to ignite more fires than a pyromaniac at a petrol station, and then shows up with a thimble of water for the cameras.

This is the man who airlifted federal troops to Ras Camboni — not to defend against foreign threats, mind you, but to attack the very Jubaland Administration he is constitutionally meant to work with. He then airlifted another batch of soldiers to Balad Hawo in Gedo Region, pouring petrol into the already raging inferno of clan rivalry. And just in case the fire didn’t spread fast enough, he’s been busy meddling in Puntland, planting a rival administration in Laas Caanood, and dispatching political arsonists to Sanaag.

But wait, there’s more! While the nation suffers under the grip of poverty and insecurity, Villa Somalia has been caught in red-handed trafficking arms (MV Sea World )— a government moonlighting as a gun-runner, like some bizarre Netflix crime drama where the villain also happens to be the “President.”

And now, after his meddling and machinations left Balad Hawo soaked in blood, Mohamud dons his trademark pained expression, moistens his eyes for the camera crew, and starts preaching “peace” for Gedo. Peace? From the same hands that loaded the gun, aimed it, and pulled the trigger?

These aren’t tears — they’re political saline solutions, squeezed out for international optics, while the real agenda is as ruthless as ever. The tragedy isn’t that Hassan Sheikh Mohamud has no shame. The tragedy is that he wears his shamelessness as a political crown and still expects applause.

In the theatre of Somali politics, he’s both the playwright and the arsonist — penning scripts of peace while burning down the stage.

[This article has been updated since posting].

When Political Flies Fight Over Rotten Meat

The other day, at a busy internet Cafe shop in Garowe, Puntland, I had the misfortune — or perhaps the blessing — of overhearing a heated debate between two young “activists.” I use the word loosely, because in Somalia “activism” has devolved into the fine art of online propaganda for hire.

One lad, chest puffed out like a seasoned politician, accused the other of being an official of Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s CBB — Cayayaanka Baraha Bulshada — the buzzing, tweeting, and trolling insects employed to defend the Mogadishu regime. His opponent, not to be outdone, fired back that the accuser was nothing more than a Garowe mouthpiece, the type who would print a press release from the Puntland presidency and call it investigative journalism.

They went back and forth like this — federalist fly versus regionalist roach — each pretending to be a principled patriot while in reality fighting over which corrupt master’s leftovers they preferred to gnaw on.

What struck me was not the intensity of their insults, but the absence of any real political vision. These were not debates over policy, governance, or the future of the Somali people. No — this was just another episode in the tragic sitcom called “Clan-Driven Politics, Season Infinity.”

One was proud to “stand for the unity of Somalia” as long as unity meant unquestioned obedience to Mogadishu. The other was equally proud to “protect Puntland’s autonomy” as long as autonomy meant immunity for Garowe’s failings. Neither cared that the constitution they claim to defend is being torn to shreds daily by the very people they serve.

The truth is, whether you buzz for Villa Somalia or chirp for Garowe, you are still an insect in someone else’s political jar — and the jar is getting smaller by the day.

WDM says: Until Somali youth stop renting out their voices to the highest bidder, our politics will remain nothing more than a noisy swarm circling a rotten carcass.

By Ismail H. Warsame
Warsame Digital Media (WDM)

Reposted: March 31, 2021 (updated for clarity)

This is how Modern Warlordism in Somalia started:

Introduction: Warlordism Reimagined

In the lexicon of Somalia’s turbulent politics, the term warlord usually points to armed, self-appointed commanders who rely on force—not law or democratic legitimacy—to enforce their will. By this definition, Mohamed Abdullahi “Farmajo” has emerged as Somalia’s most unexpected warlord, not through military uprising, but via political manipulation.

Rise to Power: 2016’s Contested Election

Farmajo ascended to power in 2016 through a highly controversial parliamentary vote. Accusations of procedural fraud and manipulation shadowed his victory, infusing his presidency with an aura of illegitimacy from its inception. This pattern echoes the modus operandi of traditional warlords—those who operate above law by claiming divine or exclusive authority.

Tools of Control: Patronage, Militias, and Foreign Support

Farmajo’s grip on power is buttressed by a multifaceted network:

Unaccountable financial backing, sometimes referred to as “Qatari dinars,” hint at clandestine patronage systems.

AMISOM protection, which shields him militarily.

External alliances with Turkey and Ethiopia, offering political and strategic cover.

Dependence on clan-based militias from southern-central Somalia, reinforcing his dominance through armed loyalty rather than democratic consensus.

These pillars create an image of a leader untouchable by constitutional norms or public opinion.

Defiance of Norms: Electoral Impasse & Political Standoff

Since the end of his term, Farmajo has resisted public and international pressure to step down. The resulting electoral deadlock and political standoffs have stalled progress and undermined fragile state institutions—exactly what warlords historically do when their authority is threatened.

Why This Matters: Beyond Political Labeling

Labeling Farmajo as a “warlord” is not mere sensationalism—it reframes how we understand governance in Somalia:

Erodes constitutional legitimacy: When power is upheld by arms, not law, democratic growth stalls.

Reduces public trust: Citizens grow disillusioned with a system that values coercion over consensus.

Perpetuates instability: Political deadlocks and factionalism invite further unrest.

A Path Forward: Rebuilding Institutional Governance

To escape the cycle of warlordism:

1. Revitalize electoral processes — ensure they are open, transparent, and credible.

2. Reassert institutional authority — strengthen parliamentary, judicial, and civil society checks on executive power.

3. Decentralize security — integrate militias like the Maawisley into formal security structures under federal oversight. Their origins as community defense groups could be leveraged positively.

4. Promote inclusive dialogue — address demands from clan factions and political actors through negotiation, not force.

In Summary

Mohamed Abdullahi Farmajo’s tenure bears the hallmarks of warlordism—coercive authority, unaccountable networks, and systemic impunity. Acknowledging this reality is essential for resetting Somalia’s political trajectory toward true institutional legitimacy and stability.

By Ismail H. Warsame
Warsame Digital Media (WDM)
August 11, 2025

Abstract
This study explores how the Somali collective psyche has transitioned from a historically grounded nomadic identity—anchored in land, clan, and survival—to a modern condition marked by dislocation, diluted national attachment, and entrenched political instability. Utilizing comparative frameworks involving Palestinians and Kurds, the paper argues that Somalia’s enduring struggle to forge a unified state reflects an erosion of traditional territorial values that once defined nomadic life.

1. Introduction

For centuries, Somali pastoral nomads maintained an intimate, survival-driven bond with land—grazing territories and seasonal routes defined livelihoods, security, and prestige. Territorial boundaries were fiercely protected through clan-based mechanisms rather than centralized authority. Yet contemporary Somalis often struggle to embrace the more abstract notion of territoriality inherent in modern statehood.

2. Nomadic Territorial Values

In Somali society, territorial loyalty was intensely local and clan-centered. Each clan maintained a historically rooted mosaic of grazing lands rather than a single unified national territory, reinforcing micro-level loyalties but not fostering a broader national identity. Mobility—essential in arid ecosystems—reinforced adaptability and undermined the cultural affinity toward fixed borders and centralized governance .

3. The Urban Transition and the Displacement of Values

Colonial rule, post-independence modernization, and conflict-induced displacement propelled Somalis toward cities. This shift eroded the traditional land-based identity: although clan identities persisted, they were detached from their historical territorial roots. Urbanized Somalis became more mobile in a different sense—not as seasonal pastoralists, but as economic migrants, refugees, and members of a far-flung diaspora.

The collapse of the Somali central government in 1991 marked a pivotal moment in this transformation. Many nomads—who formed the backbone of the United Somali Congress (USC)—swiftly began seizing both private and public lands amid the lawlessness that ensued after state collapse. This phenomenon reflected deeply ingrained nomadic raiding traditions, but in the urban context, it mutated into predatory land grabs and opportunistic economic activity .During this period of anarchy, urban upheaval in Mogadishu manifested as widespread looting and banditry. Insurgent groups, including the USC, contributed to the chaos—they didn’t so much control the uproar—they facilitated it. Crowds and militias targeted public offices, state-owned businesses, and banks, turning what began as nominal resistance into destructive appropriation .

During this period of anarchy, urban upheaval in Mogadishu manifested as widespread looting and banditry. Insurgent groups, including the USC, contributed to the chaos—they didn’t so much control the uproar—they facilitated it. Crowds and militias targeted public offices, state-owned businesses, and banks, turning what began as nominal resistance into destructive appropriation .

4. Comparative Lessons: The Palestinians and the Kurds

The Palestinian experience—marked by statelessness, fragmented territory, and continuing diasporic identity—illustrates how national consciousness can persist even without direct control over territory. Similarly, Kurds, divided across multiple nation-states, have cultivated robust diasporic nationalism that often transcends legal citizenship or territorial sovereignty.

Somalis, in contrast, possess a recognized territorial state—yet they have struggled to value it collectively. This paradox suggests that possession without shared stewardship can be as destructive as dispossession itself. Without internalized national loyalty, sovereignty becomes hollow.

5. The Crisis of Somali Nationalism

Mid-20th-century Somali nationalism initially held promise in unifying Somali-inhabited territories. However, its collapse amid authoritarian rule, civil war, and foreign interference fractured this identity into competing clan loyalties. The nomadic instinct to defend one’s localized “turf” re-emerged—this time, micro-territorial instincts eclipsed national unity.

6. Conclusion: Relearning the Value of a Homeland

Beyond rebuilding institutions, Somalia must reforge a shared sense of territorial belonging. Cultural, educational, and civic innovations should frame the state not as an abstract construct, but as a tangible legacy—akin to the pastoral fields once zealously defended. Without such reorientation, Somalia risks drifting into a fragmented global identity devoid of territorial anchoring.

PUNTLAND IS DYING — AND ITS PEOPLE MUST DECIDE IF THEY WILL SAVE IT OR BURY IT

“If you are silent now, you are already part of the problem.”

For the first time since its creation, Puntland is rotting from the inside.
The tragedy is not that enemies are attacking us — it is that our own so-called leaders are dismantling the very house they swore to protect, brick by brick, deal by dirty deal.

The people’s faith is collapsing. Disillusionment is spreading.
This is the most dangerous moment in Puntland’s history because the betrayal is coming from within.

While the public is distracted with daily struggles, a corrupt political class is auctioning off Puntland’s future — to Mogadishu power-brokers, foreign meddlers, and private greed.

WHO IS RESPONSIBLE?

We must speak the truth: Who is responsible for the

1. Political decay?

2. Security collapse?

3. Economic stagnation?

Under whose watch:

1. Puntland became a playground for opportunists

2. ISIS extorts our businesses in the Cal Miskaad Mountains

3. Mogadishu agents buy loyalty from former Puntland leaders to undermine federalism

4. And the silence of many so-called elders?
➡ Cowardice in the face of treachery.

Puntland was not built on cowardice.
It was forged in the fire of a four-decade struggle, paid for in the blood of thousands, created to stand as a bulwark against chaos.

Now, it is in the hands of men who think leadership means clinging to power and cutting secret deals.

“When the going gets tough, only the tough get going.”
Well — the going has never been tougher.

If you love Puntland, you either rise to defend it now, or you become an accomplice in its destruction.

WDM CALL TO ACTION

PUNTLAND WILL NOT SAVE ITSELF — THE PEOPLE MUST

Puntland stands at the edge of a cliff.
Words alone will not pull it back. Action will.

Every citizen must understand: the fight is NOW — not next year, not after the next election.

7 STEPS TO SAVE PUNTLAND

1.  EXPOSE THE BETRAYERS

Name them. Shame them. Confront them.
Whether in Garowe, Mogadishu, or abroad — make their betrayal public.

2.  MOBILIZE THE PEOPLE

Form grassroots committees in every district.
Demand transparency. Defend federalism. Organize peaceful protests.

3. DEFEND PUNTLAND’S SECURITY

Support real security forces — not political cronies in uniform.
Resist ISIS extortion and criminal networks with community-led defense.

4.  REJECT MOGADISHU’S POLITICAL BRIBES

Federalism is being dismantled with cash and promises.
Any leader or elder selling loyalty is a traitor to the State.

5.  DEMAND ACCOUNTABILITY

Push for independent investigations into corruption, security failures, and secret deals — including the MV Sea World weapons scandal.

6.  STAND UNITED ACROSS CLANS

The vultures thrive on division.
Unity is our strongest weapon.

7. PREPARE FOR LEADERSHIP CHANGE

The current order is beyond repair.
Groom principled, educated, unbought, unafraid leaders.

WDM’s message is clear:
If you are silent now, you will have no right to speak when Puntland is gone.

History is watching.
The blood of those who died for this State is watching.

Act now — or be remembered as one of those who stood aside and let Puntland be buried.

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Long before the echoes of Civil War faded from the Somali landscape, there was a man who had already begun to sketch a different future—not with guns, but with policy papers and quiet resolve.

His name was Ismail.

In 1998, Puntland State had just been born, a fledgling experiment in governance amidst the ruins of national collapse. At the heart of this fragile beginning, working behind the scenes, was a man entrusted with extraordinary responsibility: Ismail Warsame, the very first Chief of State—also known then as the Chief of Cabinet. His role was not symbolic. It was foundational.

While others scrambled for power or sought foreign patronage, Ismail operated with an eye on legacy, not limelight. He kept the wheels of state turning during those formative years, often the last one to leave the compound at night, cigarette burning low and papers strewn across his desk.

Ismail Warsame is one of the key founders of Puntland. Many believe he is the man who made the idea of Puntland State work and take root. Through tireless planning, relentless diplomacy, and a deep understanding of Somali political dynamics, he laid down the administrative and ideological foundation that allowed Puntland to emerge as a relatively stable region. He was not just managing a presidency—he was shaping a vision.

More importantly, he is one of the original architects of federalism in Somalia, a system designed to reconstitute the failed Somali state by restoring people’s trust in public institutions through shared governance and decentralization. While many doubted the idea, Ismail stood firm in his belief that federalism could knit the country back together—region by region, voice by voice.

But his journey did not end when his term in Puntland’s state house concluded in 2004. The mission simply expanded.

By 2005, as the world turned its cautious attention back to Somalia, Ismail joined a fragile effort—the UN and World Bank’s Reconstruction and Development Program.  The Somali New Deal (The Somali Compact) approved in Brussels in 2013 between Somalia, its regions, civil society and the international donor community was based on these studies to promote peace, security and development. Appointed as Zonal Technical Coordinator for Puntland, and later as the National Authorizing Officer (NAO), he became the vital bridge between international donors and local realities. In the harsh corridors of Galkayo and the makeshift offices of Garowe, he translated development jargon into tangible progress—water wells, roads, clinics. When the Transitional Federal Government beckoned, he moved south, stepping into the role of National Aid Technical Coordinator, this time liaising with the European Union. Still no headlines, just heavy responsibilities.

But politics, like history, has a strange rhythm. With time, Somalia’s dreams were hijacked by new factions, foreign meddling, and cynical calculations. Ismail, disillusioned by what politics had become, quietly relocated to Toronto. It was not an escape, but a vantage point. From his modest home, lined with books and dusty Somali flags, he began to write.

Not to reminisce, but to warn.
Not to mourn, but to awaken.
Not to flatter, but to challenge.

Through Warsame Digital Media, his blog, he became an elder voice in a digital age—surgical with his analysis, unafraid to speak truth to clan, state, or superpower. While others pursued social media fame, he pursued intellectual integrity. Occasionally, he would write pieces on modern Somali politics with an embedded memory of its historical origins—reminding young activists and foreign observers alike that Somalia’s problems weren’t born yesterday, and neither was its resilience.

Ismail is also the author of four books, including the Amazon bestseller “Talking Truth to Power in Undemocratic Tribal Context.” His writings cut through propaganda, offering insights rooted in experience, clarity, and conviction.

What many don’t know is that he’s also a PhD candidate in Thermal Power Engineering by profession—a rare blend of technical expertise and political wisdom. A writer, journalist, administrator, political strategist, and analyst—Ismail is a man of many callings who has walked in many shoes but never wavered in his mission: to serve truth, reform governance, and inspire change.

In every line he publishes, there is the weight of someone who has sat at the center of power—and walked away when it mattered most.

And though few may know his face, many know his words.

He is the quiet architect of a Somali Political narrative still unfolding.

And he can still be reached at: ismailwarsame@gmail.com.

Read more posts by Warsame Digital Media →
https://ismailwarsame.blog

By WDM EDITORIAL TEAM

“Starlink now available in Somalia!” With those simple words, Elon Musk may have just sparked the most disruptive technological reckoning Somalia has seen in decades.

For years, Somali telecommunications companies have operated in a fragmented, monopolistic fashion, profiting from the very dysfunction they refused to fix. Despite Somalia’s brilliant entrepreneurial potential and the rise of mobile money and digital tools, Somali Telcos have shamefully failed to do the one thing people needed most: connect with one another.

It is a known fact across Somalia’s towns and cities that families, friends, and businesses were forced to carry multiple SIM cards — Hormuud, Somtel, Golis, Nationlink — just to call different networks. Why? Because these telecom giants refused to interconnect. It was not a technical problem. It was greed, negligence, and hostage-style capitalism.

Poor Somalis, displaced families, rural traders, and even civil servants were paying the price: disconnected, digitally excluded, and forced to navigate a deliberately fragmented system. For far too long, Somali telecom monopolies were accountable to no one — not to government regulators, not to consumer needs, not to national interest.

But now, Starlink has arrived.

Elon Musk’s satellite-powered internet service offers more than just fast broadband. It offers freedom — freedom from the monopolistic control of local telecoms, freedom from patchy coverage, and freedom from overpriced, overcontrolled services.

With Starlink, a Somali villager, student, business owner, or journalist can now bypass the local Telcos completely and beam their signal from space. No SIM card battles. No interconnectivity chaos. No political manipulation through telecom blackout. It’s a true technological revolution — one that couldn’t come at a better time.

What Happens Next?

Now that Somalia is lit up on the Starlink coverage map, Telcos must reckon with three hard truths:

1. Your Monopoly is Over – The era of exploiting Somali citizens through exclusive SIM networks and refusing interconnection is coming to an end. The people now have another way.

2. You Must Evolve or Die – Compete with real services, real prices, and real innovation. No more hiding behind clan loyalties or political deals. The market is being liberated.

3. Connectivity is a Human Right – For years, Somali Telcos acted like gatekeepers of communication. Starlink shifts that power directly to the people.

A Wake-Up Call

To Somali regulatory authorities, if they exist at all: this is your moment. Stop being bystanders. Enforce mandatory interconnectivity, consumer protections, and fair competition laws. The private sector must no longer operate like rogue cartels.

To Somali entrepreneurs and tech minds: leverage this shift. With Starlink, build the next wave of apps, services, education platforms, and fintech that truly connect Somalia — not divide it by SIM card.

To the people of Somalia: demand better. The days of being forced to carry 3 SIM cards to speak to your cousin are over.

Starlink may have come from the sky, but it has delivered a very earthly message: the future belongs to those who connect.

Further Reading:

Telecom companies in Somalia are prime examples of Somali disunity and disharmony

WDM Editorial Team
http://www.ismailwarsame.blog

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The WDM Editorial Team
Unbought. Unbossed. Uncompromising.

A scandal of staggering proportions has erupted in Mogadishu, exposing either criminal negligence or outright treachery at the highest level of the Somali presidency. An Ethiopian social media activist—well-known and documented for his relentless online campaign against Somali unity, federalism, and territorial integrity—has been officially accepted as the new Ethiopian Ambassador to Somalia.

Let us not mince words. This is not a clerical oversight. This is either willful betrayal or catastrophic incompetence. The Somali presidency has once again proven to be a revolving door of humiliation, allowing foreign-backed agents of chaos to walk freely into the State House—this time with diplomatic immunity. A man who, for years, advocated the recognition of Somaliland, cheered Egyptian interference, and mocked Somalia’s unity was handed an official diplomatic role on Somali soil.

Was due diligence ignored or intentionally suppressed? Either way, the consequences are damning.

Thanks to the viral social media posts of Suleiman Dedefo, a former Ethiopian diplomat and vocal proponent of Somali fragmentation, the Somali people now have irrefutable evidence of the political schizophrenia afflicting Villa Somalia. Dedefo’s tweets make it abundantly clear: Ethiopia’s policy has never been about supporting Somali peace or sovereignty. From harboring terrorists, to weaponizing diplomacy, to manipulating AMISOM, Ethiopia’s record is crystal clear—they thrive on Somali division. And now, they’ve been handed the keys to the capital.

Where was Somalia’s National Intelligence and Security Agency (NISA)? Where was the Ministry of Foreign Affairs? Where was the President’s own political judgement?

This is not merely a diplomatic embarrassment—it is a national security breach. It is the equivalent of accepting an ambassador from a foreign power who publicly celebrated the dismemberment of your nation, only to later see them attend your cabinet meetings and diplomatic receptions. It is madness, plain and simple.

To make matters worse, this scandal comes at a time when regional powers like Egypt and Ethiopia are using Somalia as a chessboard for their geopolitical rivalry, as Dedefo has himself described. These are not neutral players. They are invested in Somali instability, in a weak central government, in the permanent balkanization of Somalia.

This incident also reveals something far more sinister—a deliberate normalization of Somalia’s fragmentation from within Mogadishu itself. How else do we explain why someone advocating for the recognition of Somaliland, the secession of SSC-Khatumo, and regional disintegration was embraced by the very state he has been trying to dismember?

Enough is enough.

We call for the immediate revocation of the ambassador’s credentials. We call for a parliamentary inquiry into the vetting process. We demand full accountability from those in Villa Somalia who enabled this farce to take place. And we call on all patriotic Somalis—regardless of clan or region—to reject the slow-motion betrayal of our national sovereignty.

Somalia does not need foreign stooges in ambassadorial robes. Somalia needs defenders, not enablers of disintegration.

The time for silence is over. The time for reckoning is now.

— WARSAME DIGITAL MEDIA (WDM)

What has happened to the promised investigation by the Puntland Government regarding the MV Sea World—the mysterious ship intercepted off the coast of Bareda carrying heavy weapons? The public was told there would be a full disclosure. There was supposed to be accountability. Yet weeks have passed, and the silence is deafening.

When the vessel was captured, it sparked national concern. A ship loaded with military-grade arms docking quietly on the Somali coast is not just a security matter—it is a national emergency. Who sent it? Who was it meant for? Was it linked to terrorists, local militias, foreign actors, or worse—a shadow operation by a state entity? These are not questions we can afford to ignore.

But ignore them we did. Or rather, the Puntland authorities decided the public didn’t deserve answers.

A Government That Deals in Shadows

Instead of transparency, what we are witnessing appears to be another backroom deal—the kind of shady maneuvering that has come to define President Said Abdullahi Deni’s administration. The MV Sea World case, once heralded as a breakthrough for Puntland’s maritime security efforts, has instead turned into a symbol of state-level complicity or, at best, cowardice in the face of international pressure.

Reports are now circulating that the Turkish Ambassador to Mogadishu flew to Bosaso, and in what can only be described as a cloak-and-dagger operation, the MV Sea World was handed over to Turkish custody. No adequate explanation. No meaningful public statement. No accountability. What gives the Turkish government the authority to interfere in Puntland’s security jurisdiction without going through proper diplomatic or legal channels?

And what happened to the UN Arms Monitoring Group, supposedly tasked with tracking all such suspicious shipments in the region? Their silence is equally troubling. Are we witnessing a coordinated cover-up, involving international powers, meant to avoid scrutiny into who was behind the weapons and their intended destination?

A Pattern of Betrayal

This is not an isolated case. Puntland’s leadership has increasingly shown a disturbing willingness to sacrifice public trust and national sovereignty for secretive deals and foreign appeasement. Whether it is the rise of ISIS in the Cal-Miskaad Mountains, the surrender of Bari Region’s maritime integrity, or now this arms shipment, President Deni’s administration appears incapable—or unwilling—to put the people’s security first.

The people of Puntland are not blind. They have been demanding answers, only to be met with silence. Is the MV Sea World incident being buried to protect foreign interests? Was Puntland’s coast being used as an arms transit corridor? Was the Turkish government involved directly, or simply cleaning up a mess created by others?

Demand for Accountability

This editorial is a call for full disclosure. The Puntland Government must release:

The official findings of the MV Sea World investigation (if it ever took place).

The identities of those behind the weapons.

The exact circumstances under which the Turkish ambassador was allowed to assume control of the vessel.

The communications between Puntland officials and the Federal Government or foreign diplomats regarding the ship.

Furthermore, we call on the UN Panel of Experts on Somalia to explain their silence and disclose any intelligence they have on the MV Sea World arms shipment. The international community cannot claim to support peace in Somalia while looking the other way when blatant arms smuggling takes place under their noses.

If Puntland’s leaders think they can brush this incident under the rug, they are mistaken. The people deserve the truth. Anything less is a betrayal not just of Puntland’s sovereignty, but of its very future.

WDM – Warsame Digital Media
Where Truth Matters.

WDM EDITORIAL

The political mishandling of SSC-KHAATUMO by the Puntland Government marks one of the most reckless and shortsighted decisions in Puntland’s recent history. After the heroic liberation of Laas Caanood—a victory made possible by the blood and determination of Puntlanders—the region stood at a historic crossroads. Two clear and strategic options were available for Puntland leadership. Both could have solidified Puntland’s legacy, protected its interests, and maintained unity in the northeast.

The first option was to reassert Puntland’s rightful claim over SSC territories with a nuanced approach—granting SSC a special self-governing administrative status under the Puntland constitutional framework. Such an approach would have honored the shared history, acknowledged SSC’s autonomy aspirations, and preserved Puntland’s sphere of influence in the region.

The second option was to embrace the newly declared SSC-KHAATUMO administration as a brotherly regional partner. By recognizing and working with SSC-KHAATUMO, Puntland could have created a stronger federalist bloc—one capable of resisting Villa Somalia’s creeping centralism, while deepening cultural, political, and economic cooperation with the Sool, Sanaag, and Cayn communities.

But instead of decisive leadership, President Said Abdullahi Deni and his administration chose paralysis and political cowardice. They abandoned the moment to Mogadishu, allowing Villa Somalia to hijack SSC-KHAATUMO for its own ends. This betrayal of opportunity has only emboldened federal actors—especially the Damul Jadiid network, now tightening its grip on Laas Caanood with a vision of centralized control dressed as “self-rule.”

This is not just a blunder. It is a total collapse of Puntland’s policy doctrine, a self-inflicted wound that weakens Puntland’s strategic depth and federalist standing.

The consequences are now visible:

Anti-Puntland elements are regrouping, forming a new alliance of convenience in Laas Caanood, emboldened by Puntland’s absence.

Opponents of President Deni—from political veterans to marginalized communities—have found a unifying cause: the betrayal of SSC and the mismanagement of regional leadership.

Deni’s one-man governance model, much like that of Hassan Sheikh Mohamud in Villa Somalia, has alienated allies and suppressed open dialogue, reducing government to a club of cronies and loyalists with no strategic vision.

For over one and a half terms, President Said Abdullahi Deni presided over a growing security catastrophe in the Cal Miskaad Mountains—a catastrophe that flourished not in secrecy, but in full view of the Puntland government. While the international community kept a watchful eye, ISIS quietly entrenched itself in the rugged terrain of Bari Region, building infrastructure, intimidating local communities, and extorting the Puntland business sector in a campaign of mafia-style taxation.

The question is not how ISIS gained a foothold in Bari—but why the Puntland government under Deni allowed this to happen.

Instead of mounting a comprehensive and strategic counter-terrorism campaign, President Deni turned a blind eye. For years, no serious ground or intelligence operations were launched, and Puntland’s security apparatus became a shell of its former self—underfunded, politicized, and paralyzed by crony appointments and neglect. Local elders and business owners cried out for help. The administration responded with silence, denial, or empty rhetoric.

It wasn’t until Washington, Abu Dhabi, and Tel Aviv—yes, three foreign capitals—sounded the alarm that any meaningful action was taken. These powers recognized the global implications of an ISIS stronghold in Puntland’s mountains. They understood that the Bari Region had become a geopolitical security risk, not just to Somalia or the Horn of Africa, but to global shipping, intelligence interests, and counterterrorism priorities in the region.

Under foreign pressure, and only then, did Deni’s government reluctantly join the campaign to dismantle the threat. Even then, the coordination and leadership came not from Garowe, but from foreign intelligence and drone warfare, with Puntland playing a junior role in its own backyard.

This is more than an embarrassing lapse. This is a grave betrayal of Puntland’s people and its foundational duty to protect the region. When a president watches international terrorists build a network in his territory—and does nothing until the United States and UAE air forces and intelligence forced his hand—he has failed.

President Deni’s two-term legacy will be remembered not just for political mismanagement—but for allowing Puntland’s sovereignty and internal security to be compromised under his watch. His failure has cost Puntland dearly in credibility, security, and independence.

The time has come for a reckoning in Puntland governance. A leadership that waits for foreign powers to secure its territory is not a leadership—it is a liability. The fight against terrorism must begin with local responsibility, not outsourced urgency.

The people of Puntland must now ask themselves: who really governs this state? A president concerned with long-term stability and unity? Or a political operator obsessed with controlling power at any cost—even if it means forfeiting core territories and allies?

The writing is on the wall. Puntland must either course-correct immediately and re-engage with SSC-KHAATUMO in good faith, or it will become an increasingly isolated and irrelevant actor in the rapidly evolving federal map of Somalia.

History will not be kind to leaders who chose silence when bold leadership was required. And Puntland will not survive another term of miscalculation and detachment. The people deserve clarity, vision, and action—not abdication.

Warsame Digital Media Editorial Board
WDM Editorials | August 2025

[Article has been updated since posting.]

It is no longer a matter of debate or diplomatic restraint—it is a national imperative. The entire current crop of Somali leadership, at all levels of government—federal, regional, and local—must be discarded. Not reformed. Not reshuffled. Removed wholesale. They have failed the Somali people. Worse, they have betrayed them.

These so-called leaders, parading around as statesmen, are nothing but hollow vessels of ambition. They lack vision. They offer no roadmap, no measurable goals, no meaningful development agenda. Somalia, a nation blessed with immense resilience, cultural strength, and strategic potential, is instead shackled by mediocrity, corruption, and criminal negligence. These men and women sit atop crumbling institutions and collapsing infrastructure, utterly clueless—or entirely indifferent—about how to fix it.

Let us be blunt. Somalia is not suffering from a lack of talent or resources. It is suffering from bad leadership—incurably bad leadership. Every tier of Somali government is infected by cronyism and patronage networks that enrich the few while dooming the many. Public offices have become family estates. State contracts are bartered in backroom deals. Qualified individuals are sidelined in favor of loyal sycophants, incompetent allies, and tribal enforcers. No merit. No ethics. No accountability.

Worse still, these so-called “leaders” do not serve the Somali people—they serve foreign interests. Some are the lapdogs of regional powers, others the darlings of donor agencies. But they all have one thing in common: they are puppets. Their strings are pulled from Nairobi, Doha, Ankara, London, Abu Dhabi, and Washington. Their loyalty lies not with Somalia but with the foreign paymasters that fund their corruption. They will sell national sovereignty, constitutional integrity, and the dignity of their people for a briefcase and a podium.

This is not just incompetence—it is treason masquerading as governance.

They speak the language of unity while stoking division. They hold peace conferences while buying weapons. They smile for donors while looting the budget. Every move they make is a performance, staged for foreign backers, and broadcast to an exhausted public that no longer believes the lies.

The truth is stark and unavoidable: There will be no national recovery, no federal revival, no peace, and no meaningful development under the current leadership. Somalia cannot be rebuilt by those who ruined it. We cannot entrust our future to those who are prisoners of the past.

This is a call—not for cosmetic changes, not for another cycle of empty dialogue—but for a total political overhaul. A clean slate. A generational shift. A new, accountable, and people-centered leadership must emerge from the ashes of this dysfunctional system.

Somalia deserves leaders who care. Leaders who plan. Leaders who protect. The current leadership class has proven time and again that it does none of these. It must go.

And the Somali people must make that happen. The future of this nation demands it.

—Warsame Digital Media (WDM)
August 3, 2025

“If money meant for the people is wasted, the people will waste away.”

A Call for Transparency and Accountability in Mudugh’s Mega Construction Projects

Mudugh, a region with immense potential yet burdened by decades of marginalization, insecurity, and crumbling infrastructure, now finds itself at a turning point. For the first time in years, there is renewed energy around development—fueled by the community’s resolve and increasing attention from the diaspora and international donors. Schools need rebuilding, roads remain unpaved, hospitals operate under candlelight, and cities like Gaalkacayo struggle to survive even moderate rainfalls.

Yet in a poverty-stricken region like Mudugh, where every dollar matters, the question is no longer if funds will be donated, but how they will be managed.

The Risk: Mismanagement, Erosion of Trust, and Donor Fatigue

The single greatest threat to sustainable development in Mudugh is not war or drought—it is mismanagement. In many regions of Somalia, too often we have seen donated funds disappear into black holes of corruption, nepotism, and bureaucratic inefficiency. The result? Donor fatigue. Projects stall. Trust evaporates. Communities are left betrayed and in worse conditions than before.

We cannot afford to let Mudugh go down this path.

Every penny donated must be tracked, managed, and distributed with laser-focused accountability. To do that, Mudugh needs more than good intentions; it needs systems.

The Solution: Establishing an Independent Accounting Firm

It is imperative that Mudugh immediately establishes an independent accounting firm—a transparent, apolitical, and professional institution dedicated solely to the safe-keeping and management of funds designated for mega construction projects and humanitarian development.

This firm must:

Be staffed by qualified professionals: Only experienced accountants, auditors, and financial controllers with proven integrity should be considered. Community connections alone are not qualifications.

Operate independently: It must not be beholden to political actors, clans, or government offices. Independence is the foundation of trust.

Be compensated fairly: We must abandon the outdated notion that “volunteers” will do serious work for free. If we want results, we must pay professionals what they’re worth.

Work hand-in-hand with the Mudugh Development Committee: Coordination is essential. The accounting firm must be in constant consultation with a representative community committee to ensure funds align with development priorities and reflect the actual needs on the ground.

Adopt international standards of financial reporting: Let audits be public. Let budgets be transparent. Let there be no mystery where the money went.

Use digital tools: In today’s world, there is no excuse for opaque ledgers. Every transaction, every disbursement, every contract should be digitized and accessible to stakeholders.

A Preventative Strategy, Not a Reactionary One

Critics may ask, “Isn’t this premature? We haven’t even received the funds yet.” That’s exactly the point. You don’t install a smoke detector after the fire. The accounting structure must be in place before a single dollar is received. Waiting until money arrives before putting safeguards in place is like building a dam after the flood.

A Message to the Diaspora and Donors

To the generous Mudugh diaspora who tirelessly raise funds for roads, hospitals, schools, and water wells: your efforts are not in vain—but your donations need protection.

To international partners and development organizations watching from afar: Mudugh’s people are ready to work. What they need is a system that ensures your contributions create change, not chaos.

Don’t just send the funds—demand the structure.

Building Trust: The First Brick in Any Project

Before cement is poured, before a road is leveled, before a school is rebuilt—the first and most important structure we must construct is trust. And that trust is built with accountability, transparency, and proper financial governance.

Let us not waste this critical moment. Mudugh has been waiting too long for progress. But progress without systems is failure in disguise.

Let us choose wisely. Let us build responsibly. Let us be the region that not only receives funds but honors them with results.

#MudughRising
#AccountabilityFirst
#TransparentDevelopment
#FromDonationsToDevelopment

Authored by Warsame Digital Media (WDM)
August 2, 2025

A Grim Discovery After the Conclusion of the Galkayo Community Conference

The much-anticipated Galkayo Community Conference has come to a close. What should have been a launchpad for meaningful change, recovery, and governance reawakening has instead revealed an ugly, unbearable truth: Galkayo is a broken, bleeding city—betrayed by the very institutions and leaders who claim to represent it.

The façade of progress and development carefully erected by government mouthpieces has collapsed under the weight of undeniable reality. Conference deliberations and post-event assessments have unearthed a deeply distressing picture of Galkayo—a city drowning, literally and metaphorically, in abandonment, dysfunction, and despair.

1. A City Sinking Under the Sky

Every rainfall now brings catastrophe. The city’s drainage systems are either nonexistent or choked with years of neglect. School buildings—once iconic centers of learning like Bardacad School, now stand shuttered, flooded, and crumbling. The collapse of landmark educational institutions after repeated submersion in rainwater is more than a failure of infrastructure; it is a direct assault on the future of the next generation.

The government’s excuse? “This is no different from the rest of the country.”
Let that sink in.

This dismissive, lazy, and grossly irresponsible statement encapsulates the rot that has infected governance. Galkayo is not a victim of nature—it is a victim of state and community negligence.

2. Lawlessness Reigns as the Police Stand Powerless

The city’s police force is a shell of its former self—under-equipped, underpaid, and overwhelmed. Banditry, inter-clan killings, and revenge crimes go unpunished. Police morale is nonexistent. There is no civilian trust. Galkayo’s law enforcement institutions have been systematically weakened to the point of irrelevance.

Security is now in the hands of whoever holds a gun. Justice is bought or executed on the streets.
Is this what the state calls governance?

3. Financial Drain: Galkayo’s Wealth Transferred, Not Invested

It is no secret anymore: Galkayo’s monthly revenue is siphoned off to Garowe under the pretext of state revenue. This is outright theft disguised as administrative routine. What the people of Galkayo pay in taxes never comes back to them in services, investment, or development. Instead, their money builds office towers, guest houses, and highways in far-off cities—while Galkayo remains a mud pit of broken streets and shattered hopes.

This is not federalism.
This is exploitation.

4. Infrastructure in Ruins—No Road, No Airport, No Dignity

What remains of Galkayo’s roads are barely passable trails. Its airport is a decaying relic. Economic infrastructure that once connected the city to the rest of the Horn of Africa has deteriorated beyond repair. In other cities, the government builds. In Galkayo, it demolishes by omission. The private sector has fled. Investors avoid it. The youth emigrate en masse.

There is no mobility, no trade, no future.

5. A Social Fabric Torn by Tribal Hatred and State Failure

Tribal hatred and mistrust have taken deep root in Galkayo. Traditional elders once respected for wisdom and reconciliation now openly hate one another—fuelled by manipulation, power struggles, and the absence of a neutral state apparatus to mediate. The government has not only failed to address social fragmentation—it has profited from it, turning clans into tools of political control.

Today, Galkayo’s strongest export is its people—fleeing poverty, insecurity, and hopelessness. Its most educated sons and daughters are now in Nairobi, Addis Ababa, or Istanbul. Its youth fight wars that aren’t theirs. Its women endure famine, fear, and silence.

6. The Government’s Excuses Are an Insult

The claim that Galkayo’s disaster is “just like the rest of the country” is not only untrue—it is cruel. Galkayo has borne the brunt of every conflict, every betrayal, and every failed promise. The deliberate underdevelopment, marginalization, and mistreatment of the city cannot be glossed over by lazy comparisons.

This is not normal.
This is not acceptable.
This is deliberate destruction through neglect.

Call to Action: Enough is Enough

The Galkayo Community Conference was supposed to ignite a movement. Now it must fuel a revolution of civic resistance and demand for justice. The people of Galkayo cannot afford to wait for Garowe, or Mogadishu, or foreign donors to rescue them.

We demand:

1. Immediate restoration of basic infrastructure—roads, schools, drainage, and healthcare.

2. Autonomous control over local revenue, with transparent budgeting and public oversight.

3. Reconstruction and reequipping of the Galkayo Police Force, free from political interference.

4. An independent inter-clan reconciliation initiative, protected from state co-optation.

5. Accountability mechanisms for the state institutions that have siphoned public funds from Galkayo for over a decade.

Conclusion: Galkayo Will Not Be Silent

This post-conference report is not a lament—it is a warning. The people of Galkayo will not accept second-class citizenship in their own homeland. Those who have allowed this crisis to fester must know: silence has ended.

The rain may drown the streets, but it will not drown our voices.

Galkayo lives. Galkayo resists. Galkayo will rise again—with or without you.

By WDM Editorial Team
August 2, 2025

Strong Message to Garowe: You Can’t Muzzle the People Forever

In a powerful display of grassroots determination, the Galkayo Community Conference—deliberately obstructed and politically sabotaged by the Said Abdullahi Deni administration—has finally convened and concluded successfully, sending shockwaves through Puntland’s fragile political structure.

A Historic Moment the Deni Administration Tried to Bury

Let’s be clear: this conference was not welcomed by the current Puntland leadership. In fact, every trick in the book was deployed to prevent this gathering—from intimidation and administrative sabotage to propaganda campaigns painting the conference as anti-government or “chaos-driven.” President Deni’s administration had hoped to suppress it entirely under the false narrative that it would serve as a platform for hostile actors. But they were wrong—badly wrong.

What emerged instead was a genuine people-driven dialogue, a shining example of what constitutional participatory governance is meant to look like. Representatives from across Mudug—from professionals and youth leaders to elders and civil society advocates—showed up and made their voices heard.

The Real Fear: Accountability

Why would a government fear a community conference?

Because this administration is allergic to accountability. For far too long, the Deni regime has ruled with top-down arrogance, believing that the people of Puntland—particularly in strategically important cities like Galkayo—are passive subjects to be managed, not citizens to be consulted. That illusion has now been shattered.

Galkayo is not Garowe’s backyard. It is a city of resilience, a community tired of crumbling infrastructure, environmental neglect, and stalled development projects. The people have real questions:

Where are the long-promised roads, airports and city-sanitation networks?

Why is Galkayo—a city that has historically stood at the crossroads of Somali unity—treated like a neglected outpost?

Why has the regional government turned a blind eye to the deteriorating security and rising youth unemployment?

The Conference Outcome: Message Delivered, Loud and Clear

The Galkayo Community Conference became more than just a meeting—it was a political awakening.

1. It reaffirmed the community’s right to convene, debate, and organize.
The Constitution of Puntland—and of Somalia at large—protects civic assembly. Today’s conference was not an act of rebellion but of responsibility. The community has every right to organize and demand what the government has failed to deliver.

2. It exposed the paranoia of the Deni administration.
The groundless fears of “agents of chaos” or “anti-government movements” were exposed for what they were: a desperate excuse to justify authoritarian overreach. This was not an opposition rally; it was a civic dialogue. That it was feared speaks volumes.

3. It set a precedent for all other Puntland regions.
If Galkayo can do it, so can Bossaso, Qardho, Buuhoodle, and beyond. The era of muffling community voices under the guise of state security is ending. Puntland citizens are waking up to their constitutional role in governance.

A Warning to Garowe: The Tide Has Turned

President Deni and his advisors must understand that this is no longer the Puntland of One-man show, where leadership controlled both the narrative and the people. The people of Galkayo have spoken: you will not be allowed to rule in silence or with impunity.

The message is clear: the days of unilateral rule are numbered. Any future administration in Puntland must engage the people, listen to the ground, and allow bottom-up development.

This conference was a warning shot, not a declaration of war. But if the current leadership continues to stifle legitimate civic expression and refuses to course-correct, they will soon find themselves politically obsolete.

Final Word: From Galkayo, A New Chapter Begins

Let the record reflect:
The Galkayo Community Conference was held.
It was peaceful.
It was powerful.
It was necessary.

Let Puntland’s people across all districts take courage from this. Your voice matters. Your city matters. Your future must not be decided behind closed doors in Garowe.

The silence is broken.
The people are speaking.
And they will not be silenced again.

#GalkayoConference #PuntlandPeopleFirst #CivicPower #CommunityMatters #EndPoliticalArrogance

SSC-KHAATUMO has unintentionally opted out of the Somali Federation by renaming itself Northeast State as a New Federal Member State. Northeast State is Puntland State. Would SSC-KHAATUMO rejoin Puntland State proper?

In the ever-shifting political terrain of Somalia, names are never just names. They are loaded with history, claims, identity, and territorial ambition. The recent emergence of a new term — “Northeast State” — associated with the territories formerly grouped under SSC, Khatumo, and now SSC-Khatumo raises serious political and constitutional questions. Is Somalia witnessing the rebirth of Puntland under a different name, or is this a veiled attempt to clone a new state using the old political skeleton?

Let’s unpack the progression and implications.

From SSC to Khatumo: The Roots of Resistance

The SSC (Sool, Sanaag, and Cayn) regions historically resisted incorporation into Somaliland, and the Khatumo movement emerged as a response to both Somaliland’s territorial ambitions and what was seen as neglect by Puntland. Khatumo was originally envisioned as a decentralized state structure loyal to the Somali Federal Government, but independent from both Puntland and Somaliland.

However, factionalism, lack of resources, and regional rivalries weakened the original Khatumo project. Its revival came only through armed struggle and public resistance that culminated in the Laas Caanood uprising, leading to the rebranding of the movement into SSC-Khatumo.

SSC-Khatumo: Between Autonomy and Uncertainty

SSC-Khatumo has gained both sympathy and suspicion. On one hand, it’s hailed for resisting Somaliland’s occupation of the Laas Caanood area. On the other hand, its ambiguous federal status, secretive dealings, and potential alignment with Mogadishu’s Damul Jadiid clique have caused alarm — especially in Puntland, which historically claimed and defended the same regions.

The SSC-Khatumo movement’s embrace of the name “Northeast” introduces a new layer of confusion. For many Somalis, “Northeast” was the original label for Puntland before it formally declared itself a federal member state in 1998. The term has strong historical, territorial, and emotional ties to Puntland identity. Using that term now raises legitimate questions:

Is SSC-Khatumo transforming into a parallel Puntland?

Or is this a deliberate political maneuver to either provoke or preempt Puntland from reclaiming the regions?

Puntland and the Trademark Dilemma

There’s currently no formal trademarking system for Somali state names — no legal mechanism to stop any federal or aspiring state from naming itself as it wishes. However, in practice, names like “Jubaland”, “Puntland”, or “Southwest” are deeply embedded in public memory and political geography.

To reuse a name like “Northeast” — which has long been associated with Puntland — could be interpreted as:

1. A symbolic challenge to Puntland’s political heritage.

2. A claim of legitimacy as the real or original Puntland, rising again after being sidelined.

3. A bid for statehood, packaged in familiar language to ease public acceptance.

Regardless, this will likely ignite controversy and even territorial competition between Garowe and Laas Caanood.

Is This Another Puntland in the Making?

If SSC-Khatumo rebrands as Northeast State, and seeks federal recognition as a member state, the implications are massive:

Territorial Overlap: It could mean two federal member states (Puntland and Northeast) claiming the same lands.

Political War: It could trigger internal Somali political infighting and realignment of alliances.

Identity Crisis: Residents in Sool, Sanaag, and Cayn could be forced to choose between allegiances — weakening collective Somali federalism.

Foreign Interference: Neighboring countries and factions within Mogadishu could exploit this ambiguity to weaken Puntland, one of the most functional Somali states.

Final Thoughts: A Need for Clarity and Unity

While political creativity is necessary in Somalia’s complex reality, the current shift from SSC to SSC-Khatumo to Northeast must not be used to sow confusion or undermine existing federal states. If the goal is federal statehood, then the actors must come clean: Is this a new state or a return to Puntland?

Federalism should unite regions under agreed frameworks, not fracture them through semantic games. Somalia doesn’t need more names — it needs more unity, shared security, and governance based on clarity, consent, and law.

If Northeast is just a euphemism for “Anti-Puntland Khatumo”, then it is a strategic misstep with dangerous implications. But if it’s an honest rebirth of Puntlandian ideals, then let that be declared openly and with a call for regional reconciliation.

Recommendations:

Clarify Intention: SSC-Khatumo leaders must explain the meaning and purpose of “Northeast State.”

Avoid Parallelism: Federalism cannot function with overlapping states. Puntland and SSC-Khatumo must engage in dialogue.

Preserve Identity: If the Northeast identity is merely a nostalgic reference, it must not be used to undermine Puntland.

Federal Oversight: The FGS must not exploit or manipulate these transitions to weaken federalism further.

Somalia cannot afford political name games at the cost of regional unity. The time to choose clarity over confusion is now.

But, now it looks like that, legally, SSC-KHAATUMO has unintentionally opted out of the Somali Federation by renaming itself Northeast State as New Federal Member State. Northeast State is Puntland State. It looks like they didn’t consult with legal minds when they were renaming themselves.

Would SSC-KHAATUMO rejoin Puntland State proper?

#NortheastState #SSC-Khatumo #Puntland #SomaliaFederalism #StateFormationCrisis

What is Wrong with Damul Jadiid? Why Are They Hellbent on Burning Somalia to the Ground?

Everywhere you turn in Somalia today, there is a trail of destruction, division, and disorder—and one ideological cabal sits at the center of it all: Damul Jadiid, the radical political faction operating from Mogadishu, once disguised as religious reformers and now fully exposed as power-hungry saboteurs of national unity.

From Gedo to Sool, from Beledweyne to Beled Xaawo violence and political strife seem to follow them like a curse. This is no coincidence—it’s a blueprint. A deliberate attempt to break the back of Somalia’s fragile federation and to install a centralized theocratic elite that answers to foreign funders rather than the Somali people.

A Movement That Thrives on Chaos

Damul Jadiid’s tactics are dangerously clear:

Fuel clan rivalries to weaken unity.

Undermine federal states by bribing local actors or sponsoring armed militias.

Create friction with any region that dares to assert autonomy, especially Puntland and Jubaland.

Weaponize religion to silence dissent and intellectual opposition.

They do not govern—they manipulate. They do not build—they burn bridges. They have infiltrated every corner of the Federal Government of Somalia (FGS), using state resources to fan the flames of civil strife.

Who the Hell is Funding This Madness?

Let’s ask the hard questions:

Who benefits from a Somalia in flames?

Who keeps Damul Jadiid afloat with finances, platforms, and propaganda?

Why do their leaders always survive the chaos they unleash, comfortably nestled in Mogadishu villas while innocent Somalis die in the crossfire?

Many fingers point toward external religious networks, foreign intelligence agencies, and regional actors who prefer a divided Somalia over a strong and united one.

Where Will Damul Jadiid Run When Somalia Burns?

They must be asked: Where the hell will you go when this country collapses under the weight of your reckless ambitions?

To Qatar? Turkey? Or the United Arab Emirates? Or will you hide behind your mosques while Somalia turns into another failed theocracy?

History is ruthless. Those who tear nations apart in pursuit of short-term power eventually become victims of the very fire they light.

Somalis Must Wake Up Now

We cannot allow this rogue faction to destroy what little progress we’ve made as a nation. The Somali people—north, south, central, and in the diaspora—must rise above sectarian politics, reject this cancerous ideology, and defend the constitutional federalism that offers all Somalis a place in the future.

Enough is enough.

Damul Jadiid must be exposed, rejected, and held accountable. Not tomorrow—now.

The upcoming Mudugh Community Conference should not, must not, be another ceremonial gathering of speeches, selfies, and fruitless resolutions that die in their own echo chambers. This is not the time for hollow patriotism, nor for repeating tired mantras of “unity” while continuing the same self-defeating behaviors that have left Mudugh Region a cautionary tale in recent Puntland politics. This conference must dig deep, face the hard truths, and most importantly—it must chart a course forward rooted in accountability, collective will, and radical honesty.

Stop Pretending the Problem Is Only Governmental

Let’s be absolutely clear: you can’t solve the problems of Mudugh by pointing fingers at Garowe or waiting for handouts. Governance failure is real—but so is community failure. Roads don’t build themselves, but neither do they get built by communities who are fragmented, distrustful, and sabotaging each other behind tribal curtains.

Is the backwardness societal or governmental? The answer is both. And until we accept this, nothing changes. Mudugh’s stagnation is not a coincidence; it is a direct result of:

Lack of a common purpose

Chronic disunity among residents

Toxic local rivalries

A short-sighted elite class more interested in positioning than progress

The Two Sides of the Same Coin: Society & State

You can’t expect the Puntland Government to invest in infrastructure, security, and services in a region whose people are perpetually divided. Imagine trying to install electricity in a house where the family keeps tearing out the wires to blame each other. That’s Mudugh today.

Likewise, blaming the government alone ignores the community’s own paralysis, internal bickering, and refusal to self-organize around a unified agenda. The only way the government can be effective is if the society acts like it deserves governance.

Three Pillars That Must Be Addressed at the Conference

1. Stalled Infrastructure Projects

The road network between Galkayo and other districts has become a symbol of betrayal, mismanagement, and apathy. This conference must demand timelines and accountability, not just pledges and wishful thinking.

Galkayo, once a hopeful urban center, is now choking under urban decay. There is no cohesive plan for drainage, urban roads, or even traffic regulation. If a city reflects its people, then Galkayo is the mirror that doesn’t lie.

2. Environmental Degradation

Galkayo’s environment is in total collapse. The conference must not ignore the horrendous stinging water ponds after each rainfall, severe deforestation, garbage-laden neighborhoods, and disappearing greenery. Local leadership has utterly failed in this area, and silence on it equals complicity.

3. Security & Public Order

Peace is the foundation of everything. The fact that Galkayo remains vulnerable to violence, gang activity, and militia-based influence shows that the rule of law remains fragile. The conference must make security and local policing a community-wide responsibility, not just the business of overstretched Puntland police.

The Elephant in the Room: Disunity

Let’s be brutally honest: Mudugh suffers not from a lack of resources or potential, but from a disease of disunity. Every sub-clan pulling in its own direction. Every “leader” playing chess with community interests. Every elder more concerned about his own standing than the collective good.

This conference must be a reckoning. A funeral for the old mentality that made unity conditional on who gets the mic, who gets the contract, who gets the praise.

Without unity, there will be no progress. Without progress, there will be no future.

The Role of Puntland Government: Not a Savior, But a Partner

Puntland cannot—and will not—solve Mudugh’s problems while the community stays dysfunctional. It is time to stop waiting for miracles from Garowe, and instead force a new relationship where Mudugh speaks with one voice, negotiates with clarity, and holds both itself and its government accountable.

The government’s role must be redefined:

Not as a parent to spoiled children, but as a partner to a mature community ready to move forward.

Demanding concrete plans for roads, airport, schools, and hospitals—yes.

But also ensuring that the local leadership doesn’t waste, steal, or politicize every opportunity.

What Must Be Done: A Call to Action

This conference must end with actions, not just resolutions. Here’s what must be demanded and immediately implemented:

1. A Unified Community Committee

With representatives from every sub-clan and urban neighborhood, tasked with tracking development promises and pressing Garowe with one voice.

2. A Public Infrastructure Watchdog

An independent, locally formed body to monitor project implementation and call out delay tactics, corruption, or sabotage.

3. Environmental Cleanup Campaign

Launch city-wide campaigns to clean, plant, and regulate the urban and rural environment. Partner with Puntland Ministry of Environment—but initiate it from the bottom up.

4. Youth & Security Forum

Involve youth in securing the city. Not just as police assistants but as proactive members of a civic guard or neighborhood councils to reduce radicalization and violence.

Final Words: This Is Mudugh’s Last Chance

If this conference becomes yet another staged event, then Mudugh deserves the neglect it suffers.

But if this becomes a moment of self-reflection, unity, and decisive action, then it could be the beginning of a real transformation. No outsider will rescue Mudugh. Puntland can only help those who help themselves. It’s time for this community to grow up, stand up, and rise up.

The world owes us nothing. Puntland owes us nothing.
We owe ourselves everything.

#Mudugh2025
#GalkayoUnited
#FixOurselvesFirst
#PuntlandAccountability

Let the conference be the rebirth. Or let it be a final tombstone.
The choice is ours

Further reading:

GALKAYO: THE DYSTOPIAN CITY OF SOMALIA

July 26, 2025 — Puntland, Somalia

The fight against Daesh (ISIS) in Somalia’s northeastern Puntland State has entered a new and decisive phase, marked by a recent major blow against the group’s internal operations. In a meticulously executed special operation, U.S. Special Forces, working in close coordination with Puntland security services, captured one of the most important financial architects of the terrorist group’s operations in the Horn of Africa — Abdiweli Mohamed Aw-Yusuf, also known as Walalac.

This man was no ordinary foot soldier. As the head of Daesh’s Finance Department, Walalac was responsible for orchestrating the movement of money, laundering funds through illicit networks, and managing the budget for terror cells under the infamous al-Karrar office — Daesh’s administrative hub in Somalia. His arrest, alongside two other senior militants, is not just symbolic; it represents a crippling blow to ISIS’s operational and financial infrastructure in the region.

The Operation: Precision and Secrecy

The raid was reportedly carried out in a rural mountainous hideout in Puntland’s Bari region, an area known for being a sanctuary for extremist groups due to its treacherous terrain and sparse security presence. U.S. Special Forces, utilizing intelligence gathered over weeks — if not months — moved with surgical precision, apprehending the trio without significant resistance or collateral damage.

Puntland security sources confirmed that local forces provided critical logistical and intelligence support, once again highlighting the growing capacity of Puntland’s anti-terrorism apparatus when paired with competent international allies.

The Significance of Walalac’s Capture

Walalac’s arrest is being seen by security analysts as one of the most important counter-terrorism victories in Somalia since the disappearance or possible death of Daesh’s previous leader, Abdulqadir Mumin. Here’s why it matters:

Financial Disruption: As the chief financier, Walalac was the gatekeeper to the group’s lifeline — money. His arrest will likely lead to the freezing and tracking of several funding channels and safe houses.

Network Exposure: Walalac’s capture could lead to the exposure of broader networks — both local and international — that have been silently feeding Daesh’s coffers.

Operational Paralysis: With their funds in limbo and senior leaders apprehended, local Daesh cells will likely go dormant or fragment, buying Puntland and its partners precious time to hunt down remnants.

Al-Karrar Office Under Siege

The al-Karrar office, an administrative and logistical wing of ISIS-Somalia, has been under intense scrutiny for years. Its connections span from illegal charcoal exports to arms smuggling and human trafficking. The capture of Walalac represents the first time that a major figure tied directly to al-Karrar has been detained alive — providing hope that interrogation may yield intelligence on Daesh’s remaining cells, routes, and safe havens.

Puntland: Frontline of the War on Terror

Puntland has long stood as the frontline in Somalia’s multi-front war against violent extremism. While the southern part of the country continues to battle al-Shabaab, Puntland’s remote mountains have become the primary theater in the war against Daesh. The local government’s ability to work with international partners like the United States, while maintaining internal political coherence, has played a key role in holding the line.

But this war is far from over.

A Call for Vigilance and Unity

Despite this success, security analysts caution that Daesh — like a snake — may regrow its head if the region lets its guard down. The arrest of Walalac offers a temporary strategic advantage, but Puntland authorities must now:

Accelerate intelligence sharing with local communities.

Clamp down on financial and recruitment networks in coastal and urban centers.

Prevent the re-emergence of sleeper cells by investing in civic programs and counter-extremism education.

The international community must also recognize that Puntland’s stability is integral to regional and even global security. More investment, more collaboration, and sustained attention are needed to ensure that groups like Daesh do not find new oxygen to breathe.

Conclusion

The fight against Daesh in Puntland has reached a turning point with the capture of Abdiweli Mohamed Aw-Yusuf (Walalac). His arrest is not just a counter-terrorism victory — it’s a testament to what is possible when local governance, global cooperation, and relentless vigilance converge. The people of Puntland, and indeed Somalia as a whole, can take pride in this milestone — but they must also stay wary, stay united, and prepare for the long road ahead.

Terrorism may adapt, but so too must the defenders of peace.

Stay informed. Stay vigilant. Puntland is not just a state — it is a shield against extremism in the Horn of Africa.

External Hands Off! Laas Caanood and Gaalkacayo Must Guard Against the Infiltration of External Agendas

By Warsame Digital Media (WDM)
July 25, 2025

Somalia is no stranger to outside manipulation, proxy politics, and shameless exploitation—whether by foreign powers, religious factions masquerading as saviors, or so-called “federal” agents pushing divisive agendas. But what is happening today in Laas Caanood under the banner of the SSC-Khaatumo Congress is nothing short of a political hijacking engineered by the very enemies of Puntland’s vision, unity, and hard-won stability.

Make no mistake: the ongoing congress in Laas Caanood is not just a community gathering, nor a neutral civil affair. It is being contaminated by the fingerprints of Mogadishu-backed operatives, religious extremists in sheep’s clothing, and foreign-funded agendas aiming to undermine Puntland’s autonomy, fragment its influence, and bleed its border regions into another experiment in clan politics.

The Laas Caanood Congress: From Hope to Hostage

SSC was once a project with merit—a grassroots movement meant to assert identity, recover land from Somaliland occupation, and reclaim dignity. But today, its congress is being commandeered by Mogadishu regime functionaries and shadowy factions from Damul Jadiid and beyond, who care more about turning Sool into a satellite of Villa Somalia than uplifting the suffering people of the region.

Where is the accountability? Where are the discussions on development, reconciliation with Puntland, or service delivery? Instead, we hear whispers of new flags, new borders, and illusory “federal” dreams sponsored by those who never defended a single inch of Sool during its darkest days.

This is betrayal. Plain and simple.

Warning to Mudugh: Keep the Devil Out of the Room

Now, as activists and elders in Mudugh prepare for a long-overdue conference on infrastructure, roads, airports, environmental concerns, and social service delivery, let this article serve as a clear warning:
DO NOT ALLOW your legitimate grievances to be hijacked by the same poisonous outsiders that are currently corrupting the SSC  platform.

The people of Mudugh—noble, resilient, and independent—have every right to question the government’s failures. The delayed road network, the stalled Galkayo airport upgrades, the unaddressed environmental degradation, and the woeful state of health and education services must be confronted head-on, in the open, and with government officials present to be held to account.

But beware: already, certain actors are whispering in the dark, attempting to twist this noble initiative into a political insurrection. They will come with suitcases of money, sweet words of “federal rights,” or pious slogans. They will try to turn civil activism into a weapon against Puntland unity.

Reject them all. This conference must be by Mudugh, for Mudugh, and about Mudugh. Period.

To the People of Laas Caanood: You Have Been Deceived

Your sacrifices were never meant to bring you back into the grip of Villa Somalia’s opportunists.
You didn’t expel Somaliland just to fall prey to the next puppet master.
Wake up!

There can be no sustainable peace or development if your political process is infested by external strategists, manipulating you as pawns in a broader anti-Puntland, anti-regional autonomy campaign.

Do not let Mogadishu’s agents turn you into another failed statelet.

To Civil Society and Elders: Reclaim Control

Civil society, youth, women, and elders—this is your moment. Not the moment for power-hungry charlatans or political middlemen who trade loyalties for contracts.
Speak loudly. Stand firm. Demand clarity from anyone who wants a seat at the table. Ask: who sent you? Who funds you? What is your endgame?

Ask every delegate in Mudugh and Laas Caanood: Are you here for your people, or are you here for another master’s mission?

To Puntland Authorities: Stop Playing Dead

The silence from Puntland’s leadership is unacceptable and dangerous. While external forces are busily redrawing the map of your territories, you issue toothless press releases or retreat into administrative isolation

Send your ministers. Face the public. Explain the delays. Be accountable. Be present. Or else forfeit your moral authority.

Puntland must reassert its role as the legitimate political parent of Sool, Sanaag, Cayn, and Mudugh—not with slogans, but with visibility, action, and bold counter-narratives.

Final Word: Somali Unity Starts with Regional Dignity

What is happening now is not just about SSC or Mudugh.
It is about whether Somali regions can self-organize without being turned into ideological experiments.
It is about whether Puntland can survive not just militarily, but politically.
It is about whether we allow Mogadishu to continue acting like a colonizer disguised as a unifier.

The people of SSC and Mudugh deserve answers, service, dignity—not sabotage and deception.

Let the people rise with clarity. Let the conferences be platforms of progress, not betrayal.
And let every whisper of external interference be met with thunderous rejection.

Down with external manipulation! Long live Puntland’s dignity! And may the people finally speak louder than the plotters ever could.

#SomaliUnity #PuntlandFirst #MudughForMudugh #HandsOffSSC

Context: What exactly happened with Sea World?

On July, 2025, Puntland’s Maritime Police Force (PMPF), under President Said Abdullahi Deni’s administration, intercepted the MV Sea World, a Comoros‑flagged vessel, off Bareeda’s coast   of Puntland State.

The ship was reportedly laden with Turkish-marked armored vehicles, anti‑aircraft guns, ammunition, and MRAPs—apparently en route to Mogadishu for non-state actors.

Puntland claims the ship entered territorial waters without distress signals, violating UNCLOS and posing regional security threats.

Parts of the cargo were off‑loaded, with some weapons reportedly found in civilian hands outside Bosaso Port, prompting an internal probe.

Diverse reactions: Federal Government and external actors respond

The Federal Government of Somalia has condemned Puntland’s actions as “hijacking,” invoking the provisional constitution and UNCLOS to demand immediate release.

Somalia’s defense ministry asserts cargo was legal military equipment under bilateral agreements with Turkey.

Regional analysts have voiced concerns:

A Turkish analyst accused Deni of acting as a proxy for the UAE, claiming the PMPF was UAE-funded and that UAE backed the seizure.

Turkey has a growing defense footprint in Somalia, highlighted by delivery of helicopters and advisory missions.

Egypt too has increased arms shipments to Mogadishu under defense pacts—adding further complexity.

Will President Deni relent under pressure?

Political and Strategic Stakes at Play

1. Puntland’s Legal and Sovereign Position

The administration emphasizes strict adherence to Somalia’s constitution and maritime law sovereignty.

Releasing the ship under federal pressure may be seen as undermining Puntland’s autonomy and authority.

2. Federal Pressure via Diplomatic Channels

Mogadishu is expected to escalate through federal legal routes and international maritime norms to force a release.

Political pressure may ensue via intergovernmental forums and possible UN monitoring teams already engaged in arms embargo enforcement.

3. Regional Backing and Strategic Alliances

UAE support for PMPF and Puntland’s regional security capabilities—possibly emboldening Deni.

Turkey and Egypt may lobby via diplomatic means but face the risk of confrontation with Puntland’s stance.

4. Domestic Pressure from Puntland Citizens

The public in Puntland demands accountability on illegal weapons flows and expects their leadership to act firmly.

Any sign of backing down risks political fallout at home.


Analysis: Likely outcomes for President Deni

Scenario Likelihood Implications

1.Stand firm, keep the ship detained.  Reinforces regional autonomy, asserts Puntland’s maritime sovereignty, but sharpens tensions with Mogadishu and external actors.
2. Negotiate conditional release. Release only after transparent joint federal-regional investigation, potentially preserving unity but risking domestic backlash.
3. Immediate release. Politically costly locally; may ease federal relations but embolden Mogadishu to challenge regional autonomy again.

Conclusion: What’s next?

The Sea World standoff highlights the complex tug‑of‑war between Puntland’s self-governance and Somalia’s federal authority—complicated further by Turkey’s defense involvement, Egypt’s arms deliveries, and UAE’s backing of regional security forces.

President Deni is expected to proceed cautiously, prioritizing Puntland’s constitutional rights and public sentiment. A forced release seems unlikely, but a negotiated compromise—perhaps through joint investigations or international mediation—could emerge if diplomatic costs escalate for Puntland.

What People of Puntland Are Saying

Local citizens express deep concern, saying they “need clarity and accountability—illegal arms must be stopped.”

Analysts warn: “How Deni handles this will define Puntland’s autonomy and its role in Somali federal dynamics.”

Final Thoughts

The world is watching. Whether by legal pressure, diplomatic outreach, or regional alliances, Turkey, Egypt, and Mogadishu will seek to reclaim the Sea World and its cargo. Yet Deni’s political calculus—balancing regional pride, domestic sentiment, and external actors—suggests he’s unlikely to capitulate outright. What happens next could redefine federal-state relations in Somalia and influence Horn‑region security ties.

Stay tuned as investigation results emerge, and diplomatic signals shift.

By Ismail Warsame

For over three decades, Somaliland has claimed independence from the rest of Somalia, and yet Britain—its former colonial ruler and one of its strongest foreign patrons—continues to withhold official recognition. This deliberate non-recognition has often been misread by pan-Somali unionists as a moral stance in support of Somali unity, or as Britain’s respect for African Union protocols and international law.

But nothing could be further from the truth.

Britain’s refusal to formally recognize Somaliland’s statehood is not a gesture of goodwill toward Somalia’s unity, nor is it based on any principled commitment to continental or global legal frameworks. Rather, it is a well-orchestrated policy of self-interest, anchored in a desire to preserve influence over the entire Somali geography—fragmented, unstable, and exploitable.

A Strategic Hedge: Playing Both Sides of Somali Politics

Unlike other former colonial powers, the UK has adopted a dual-track approach to Somalia. It engages both the Federal Government in Mogadishu and the administration in Hargeisa. This enables Britain to retain maximum leverage while avoiding formal legal commitments to either side.

By withholding recognition of Somaliland, Britain maintains:

Access to Mogadishu, where UN and African Union missions are based.

Soft power in Hargeisa, where UK-funded NGOs, education programs, and security firms operate freely.

Flexibility in oil and port negotiations, especially concerning Berbera, where UK-friendly interests (like DP World) operate.

This ambiguity is not accidental. It is strategic.

Not About African Unity – Just Global Hypocrisy

Britain frequently cites the African Union’s official stance on Somali territorial integrity to justify its hesitation on recognizing Somaliland. But this argument collapses under global scrutiny.

Britain supported the creation of South Sudan, recognized Kosovo’s independence, and has repeatedly intervened in state fragmentation when it aligns with its own interests. So why is Somaliland different?

Because Somalia—fragmented, weakened, and aid-dependent—is easier to manage, influence, and benefit from.

The moment Britain recognizes Somaliland, it risks:

Losing diplomatic access in Mogadishu.

Triggering regional chain reactions in Puntland and Jubaland.

Empowering nationalists who might resist UK economic and military influence.

So, the status quo—keeping Somaliland in limbo—serves British interests best.

Oil, Ports, and Quiet Power

Much of Britain’s hesitation is economic. Somaliland offers key strategic assets—especially its untapped oil reserves and the Berbera Port, a deep-water port with commercial and military potential.

British companies like Genel Energy have oil exploration interests in Somaliland. However, formal recognition might:

Trigger diplomatic or legal disputes with Mogadishu.

Invite regulatory scrutiny from a more empowered Somali federal government.

Endanger regional power balances that favor Western firms.

Moreover, maintaining soft control over strategic infrastructure without recognition allows the UK to:

Avoid responsibility.

Escape international legal constraints.

Play a long game of influence over multiple Somali actors.

As discussed in the article “The Invisible Hand: How Britain’s Shadow Governance Network Controls Modern Somalia and Seeks its Partition” (wordpress.com/ismailwarsame), the UK’s influence is exerted through a complex network of:

Development NGOs

Security contractors

Political mentorship programs

Education and aid channels

This network allows Britain to play an outsized role in Somali politics without direct intervention. A formal recognition of Somaliland would force London to take sides—thereby disrupting this delicate architecture of indirect influence.

Who Truly Loses in This Game?

The primary victim of Britain’s non-recognition policy is the Somali people—both in Somaliland and in southern Somalia. This ambiguity:

Encourages fragmentation and elite corruption.

Delays genuine reconciliation or reintegration efforts.

Undermines national institutions in favor of parallel structures.

Fuels regional tension and proxy rivalries (e.g., UAE vs. Qatar, Turkey vs. Egypt).

Britain’s calculated silence not only perpetuates division but sabotages the chance for a long-term Somali-led solution—be it reunification, federation, or legal separation.

Conclusion: This Is Not About Unity—It’s About Control

Britain’s refusal to recognize Somaliland is not a principled defense of Somali unity. It is a self-serving strategy to prolong access, leverage influence, and avoid legal entanglements in a volatile yet resource-rich region.

It is time for Somali intellectuals, youth, leaders, and regional allies to confront this duplicity. The future of Somalia—and Somaliland—should not be held hostage to outdated colonial calculations and foreign self-interest masquerading as diplomacy.

Whether one supports recognition or unity, the truth must be clear: Britain’s policy is not based on legality or loyalty—but on pure geopolitical calculus.

Further Reading

“The Invisible Hand: How Britain’s Shadow Governance Network Controls Modern Somalia and Seeks its Partition”

Read here: https://ismailwarsame.blog/2025/07/21/the-invisible-hand-how-britains-shadow-governance-network-controls-modern-somalia-and-seeks-its-partition/

IMMEDIATE ACTIONS (Security First):
* Secure the Ship & Cargo: Place armed guards around the vessel and its cargo holds 24/7. Prevent any unauthorized access. This is non-negotiable.
* Isolate the Crew: Detain the crew for questioning in a secure location. Treat them humanely but restrict communication. They are potential witnesses or participants.
* Freeze Documentation: Seize all ship logs, manifests, communication records, navigation data, and personal crew documents immediately.

2. Confiscation: Not Just an Option, But a NECESSITY (With Caveats):
* LEGAL BASIS FOR CONFISCATION: Confiscation is absolutely an option and highly recommended under international law and Somali domestic law:
* UN Arms Embargo: UNSC Resolutions (e.g., 2662) impose a strict arms embargo on Somalia for non-state actors and require all imports to have explicit Federal Government approval. An unclaimed shipment inherently violates this embargo.
* Violation of Somali Law: Importing arms without proper authorization, end-user certificates, and customs declaration is illegal under Somali law. An unclaimed shipment has none of these.
* National Security Threat: Unclaimed heavy weapons pose an existential threat to Puntland and Somalia’s security. Confiscation is a legitimate act of self-defense and security preservation.
* Port State Authority: As the port state, Puntland has jurisdiction over vessels in its port, especially those suspected of illegal activity.
* HOW TO CONFISCATE LEGALLY:
* Formal Legal Order: Issue an immediate, formal seizure/confiscation order signed by the highest relevant Puntland authority (e.g., President, Security Minister, Port Authority Director), citing the UN embargo violation, violation of Somali law, and threat to national security.
* Document Everything: Meticulously document the ship’s arrival, the lack of claim/paperwork, the security measures taken, the confiscation order, and the inventory process. This is crucial for legal defensibility.
* Notify Federal Government: Inform the Somali Federal Government (SFG) in Mogadishu immediately of the situation and the confiscation action. While Puntland has authority, coordination with the SFG is essential for national unity and international legitimacy. The SFG must formally notify the UN Security Council’s Somalia Sanctions Committee.
* Notify International Partners: Inform key international partners (UNSOM, AU, IGAD, Combined Maritime Forces, INTERPOL) of the confiscation and request urgent technical assistance.

3. CRITICAL NEXT STEPS AFTER SECURING/CONFISCATING:
* Comprehensive Inventory (SAFELY): Conduct a detailed, supervised inventory of the cargo. This is EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. It must be done by trained explosives experts/EOD personnel, ideally with international support (UNODA, INTERPOL). Document types, quantities, serial numbers, markings, and origins of all weapons and ammunition. Use video/photography.
* Thorough Investigation:
* Crew Interviews: Interrogate the crew intensively (with legal counsel/observers present) about the voyage, origin, intended destination, and ownership. Pressure for information.
* Forensic Analysis: Examine the ship, cargo packaging, and any recovered documents forensically for clues (fingerprints, DNA, hidden compartments, digital data).
* Track Ship’s History: Use AIS data, port records, and intelligence to trace the ship’s route, previous ports of call, and ownership history.
* Flag State Inquiry: Demand full cooperation from the ship’s flag state in identifying owners and operators.
* International Assistance is PARAMOUNT:
* Request Expertise: Immediately request technical assistance from the UN (UNSOM, Panel of Experts on Somalia), INTERPOL, the African Union, and relevant states (e.g., for ballistic tracing, EOD, investigative support).
* Request Disposal Support: Securely storing or destroying this volume of arms/ammo is complex and dangerous. Request international support (e.g., UNMAS, donor states) for safe disposal/destruction.
* Transparency (Guarded): Be transparent about the fact of confiscation and the ongoing investigation with the public and international community to build legitimacy. However, do not disclose sensitive operational details, inventory specifics, or investigative leads that could compromise the probe or security.

4. Risks & Considerations:
* External Pressure/Threats: Expect pressure from shadowy actors, potential claimants (via proxies), or even states wanting the cargo suppressed or released. Maintain resolve and security.
* Internal Corruption: Implement strict oversight to prevent leaks, bribery, or theft of the cargo. Use trusted units and international monitors.
* Disposal Challenges: Holding the cargo long-term is risky. Plan for its secure destruction as the ultimate goal, requiring international help.
* Legal Challenges: Be prepared for potential (though unlikely to succeed) legal challenges from shell companies claiming ownership. Your documentation of the embargo violation and lack of initial claim is key.

Conclusion & Recommendation for Puntland:

Confiscation is not only a legal option but a critical security imperative. Puntland must immediately seize the vessel and its cargo based on clear violations of the UN arms embargo and Somali law, citing the grave threat to regional security. Delay risks diversion or attack.

Prioritize:

1. SECURE the ship and cargo militarily.
2. CONFISCATE formally and legally.
3. INVESTIGATE thoroughly with international help.
4. INFORM the Somali Federal Government and key international partners.
5. DESTROY the cargo safely with international support.

Failure to act decisively risks these weapons fueling catastrophic violence in Puntland, Somalia, and across the region. Confiscation is the essential first responsible step.

https://addisstandard.com/ethiopias-strategic-triple-play-how-assertive-diplomacy-on-gerd-somaliland-mou-brics-membership-reshapes-horn-of-africa-power-dynamics/

“All spoils in the sea belong to the King” , a saying in the ancient Bari Region of Puntland State.

Bosaso, Puntland – In a dramatic and high-stakes intervention, Puntland State Marine Forces have intercepted a vessel carrying a deadly cargo: a significant shipment of heavy armored weapons reportedly destined for non-state factions in Mogadishu, and potentially, the fledgling Federal Government itself or Turkish military base in Mogadishu. This seizure isn’t just a routine bust; it’s a stark and terrifying symptom of a dangerous new phase engulfing Somalia.

For decades, the flow of small arms into South-Central Somalia has been a tragic constant, a relentless undercurrent fueling violence even at the height of the Civil War. Mogadishu’s myriad factions are, as reports rightly state, already “armed to the teeth” with these weapons. But what we are witnessing now is fundamentally different, and far more perilous.

The New, Devastating Reality: Heavy Weapons Enter the Fray

The alarming novelty lies in the extraordinary flow of heavy weaponry– armored vehicles, sophisticated artillery, powerful anti-armor systems – now finding its way to the warring factions. This escalation coincides directly with the premature and controversial lifting of the UN Arms Embargo on Somalia. While ostensibly intended to bolster the Somali National Army in its fight against Al-Shabaab, the reality on the ground paints a far bleaker picture.

Instead of strengthening the central state, this lifting appears to have opened dubious routes exploited by clandestine parties. Powerful external actors, regional players with vested interests, and internal spoilers seem to be leveraging the loosened restrictions to flood the volatile Mogadishu landscape with tools of mass destruction. This isn’t reinforcement; it’s a deliberate act of strategic arson.

Puntland’s Dilemma: A Seized Arsenal and Weighty Choices

The seized vessel now sits in a Puntland port, its lethal contents under guard. Its interception by Puntland forces is a significant act, demonstrating both capability and a clear stance against the uncontrolled proliferation threatening the entire Horn of Africa. But the seizure is only the first act. Puntland society is now embroiled in a crucial and urgent debate: What to do with this arsenal?

The options are fraught with consequence:

1.  Destruction: The most definitive, and perhaps safest, course. Destroying the weapons removes them permanently from the equation, sending the strongest possible message against illicit arms trafficking. However, it requires significant resources and technical capability.
2.  Handover to the Federal Government (FGS): A gesture of federal unity? Or a naive gamble? Given the reported destination included factions within Mogadishu, possibly even elements linked to the FGS itself, and the FGS’s perceived fragility and lack of cohesive control over its own security apparatus, many in Puntland view this option with extreme skepticism. Would these weapons simply fuel the very fires they were meant to extinguish?
3.  Utilization by Puntland Security Forces: Argued by some as necessary for Puntland’s own defense against an increasingly unstable south and the persistent Al-Shabaab threat. However, this risks escalating regional tensions and could be portrayed as Puntland itself becoming a stockpiler, undermining the moral high ground of the seizure.
4.  International Custody/Disposal: Seeking UN or AU assistance to take custody and ensure secure, verifiable disposal. This might be the most transparent option but relies on complex international cooperation and logistics.

Beyond the Seizure: A Nation at the Precipice

The debate in Puntland is more than a local issue; it’s a microcosm of Somalia’s existential crisis. The unchecked flow of heavy weapons, facilitated by the questionable lifting of the embargo and shadowy actors, is catastrophically destabilizing. It empowers warlords, undermines any semblance of state monopoly on force, makes large-scale conventional warfare terrifyingly feasible, and ultimately, drowns out any hope for genuine political dialogue or reconciliation.

The international community must look beyond Mogadishu. Puntland’s action has exposed a critical breach. Urgent questions demand answers:

*   Who is behind these clandestine shipments?
*   How are they bypassing what should be enhanced monitoring post-embargo?
*   Why was the embargo lifted without robust, verifiable mechanisms to prevent exactly this scenario?

The seizure in Bosaso is a warning flare. Ignoring the systemic failure allowing heavy weapons to flood Somalia is not an option. The debate within Puntland is a test – not just for its own leadership, but for the conscience of Somalia and its international partners. The choices made regarding this seized arsenal will send ripples across the region. The path of peace requires not just intercepting the weapons, but decisively dismantling the deadly networks that deliver them and demanding accountability for those who enable this descent into potentially unimaginable violence. The time for decisive action, both in Bosaso and beyond, is now. Somalia cannot afford another descent into the abyss fueled by heavy metal and foreign agendas.

19 July 2025 

The escalating tensions in the Dhahar region of Sanaag represent more than a local border dispute. They are a symptom of a deepening crisis threatening the fragile foundations of Somali federalism, fueled by betrayal, overreach, and the Mogadishu regime’s cynical manipulation. The rift between Puntland and the Khaatumo Movement, once allies in liberating Laas Caanood, now risks plunging the region into renewed conflict, with President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s (HSM) government playing a dangerously incendiary role.

The Foundation: Liberation and the Seeds of Discord
There is little dispute over Puntland’s pivotal role in the 2023 liberation of Laas Caanood and surrounding SSC areas from Somaliland forces. Puntland Darawishta provided crucial military leadership, equipment, and fighters, sacrificing blood and treasure alongside local SSC clans. This victory, achieved through a coalition heavily reliant on Puntland’s commitment, was rightly hailed as a triumph of kinship and shared struggle against occupation. The expectation was that this shared sacrifice would forge a strong, cooperative relationship based on mutual respect for historical ties and administrative realities.

The Betrayal: Khaatumo’s Overreach in Sanaag
Instead, a starkly different reality has emerged. Emboldened, sources within Puntland and local observers in Sanaag contend, by overt political and military backing from Mogadishu, the Khaatumo Movement has pursued a policy of territorial aggrandizement. Its deployment of forces into the Dhahar district – an area consistently administered by Puntland for decades and explicitly within its constitutional boundaries – is viewed in Garowe not as an administrative error, but as a deliberate act of aggression and a profound betrayal.

The bitter irony is palpable: forces representing an entity whose very liberation was secured by Puntland’s intervention are now encroaching on territory Puntland considers its sovereign space. Puntland’s offers of dialogue, reportedly based on acknowledging historical context and existing constitutional frameworks, appear to have been rebuffed, deepening the sense of grievance in Garowe.

Mogadishu’s Malign Fingerprints: Orchestrating Instability
The HSM regime’s involvement is the most destabilizing factor. Multiple credible reports indicate Mogadishu is actively fueling this conflict:
1.  Political Legitimization: Granting Khaatumo Movement formal recognition and status far exceeding its administrative control, directly challenging Puntland’s authority in the SSC and Sanaag.
2.  Military Provocation: The reported deployment of Somali National Army (SNA) units, often under the cover of local militia to support Khaatumo operations in Dhahar is a constitutional grenade. It blatantly violates:
    1. Article 48: Federal Member State security jurisdiction within their borders.
    2. Article 49: The mandate for cooperation and mutual respect between levels of government.
    3. The core principle that the FGS cannot militarily intervene against a Federal Member State on its own territory.

Strategic Objective: Analysts widely interpret this as a deliberate HSM strategy to weaken Puntland, the most robust proponent of genuine federalism and a persistent check on Mogadishu’s centralizing ambitions. Destabilizing Puntland’s eastern flank in Sanaag serves this purpose, diverting Puntland’s resources and attention while undermining its territorial claims. The misuse of local militia forces for this internal political maneuvering also gravely risks further fragmentation of the Somali State.

Consequences: A Tinderbox Ignited
The situation is dangerously volatile:
Risk of Open Conflict: The militarization of Dhahar pits former allies against each other. A single skirmish could escalate rapidly.
Federalism Under Siege: Mogadishu’s actions demonstrate a fundamental disregard for the federal compact. If a Federal Member State’s borders can be violated by FGS-backed forces supporting a rival administration, the entire federal project collapses into chaos.
Al-Shabaab’s Opportunity: Internal Somali conflict is manna from heaven for Al-Shabaab, diverting vital resources and attention from counter-terrorism efforts.
Deepening Divisions: The sense of betrayal felt in Puntland and among its supporters in Sanaag risks hardening clan and regional fault lines for a generation.

WDM’s Call: De-escalation, Constitution, and Dialogue

1.  Immediate Withdrawal  Khaatumo militia and all SNA units must withdraw immediately from Dhahar and other disputed areas within Puntland’s historical and constitutional jurisdiction.
2.  Mogadishu Must Cease Fire: President Mohamud’s regime must halt all political, financial, and military support aimed at destabilizing Puntland and provoking conflict between Puntland and Khaatumo Movement. Respecting Federal Member State autonomy is non-negotiable.
3.  ATMIS Command must immediately investigate the deployment of SNA forces to Dhahar, publicly clarify their mandate, and ensure strict adherence to counter-terrorism objectives, avoiding entanglement in FGS political machinations against FMS.
4.  Return to Constitutional Dialogue: Meaningful dialogue between Puntland and Khaatumo representatives is essential, but must be based on:
    *   Recognition of the existing constitutional framework governing FMS boundaries.
    *   Acknowledgement of Puntland’s historical administration and sacrifices in the region.
    *   A commitment to resolving disputes peacefully within the federal structure, without Mogadishu acting as a partisan spoiler.
5.  International Vigilance: The international community must move beyond passive concern. It must publicly condemn the unconstitutional FGS incursions into Puntland territory, pressure Mogadishu to adhere to the Provisional Constitution, and actively support mediation efforts focused on de-escalation and federal principles.

Conclusion
The incident in Dhahar is not an isolated development. It is the calculated result of Khaatumo overreach, enabled and actively encouraged by a Mogadishu regime intent on crippling Puntland and dismantling meaningful federalism. The betrayal of the shared sacrifice at Laas Caanood adds a layer of bitter tragedy. If this dangerous course is not reversed, the consequences will extend far beyond Sanaag, threatening Somalia’s fragile stability and playing directly into the hands of its enemies. Cool heads, constitutional fidelity, and an end to Mogadishu’s destructive meddling are desperately needed before this tinderbox explodes.

In the ever-complex and shifting political landscape of Somalia, few events have reshaped the power dynamics between federal and regional authorities as significantly as the liberation of the Sool, Sanaag, and Cayn (SSC) regions. For Puntland State, once considered the most stable and progressive regional administration in Somalia, its failure to reassert full control over SSC after the withdrawal of Somaliland forces has proven to be a strategic miscalculation with far-reaching consequences. This negligence allowed hostile forces — notably elements aligned with President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud and the central Mogadishu regime — to infiltrate, manipulate, and ultimately redirect the political orientation of the region.

A Missed Moment of Strategic Opportunity

The battle for SSC was never just a local uprising against Somaliland’s occupation. It was a continuation of a decades-long resistance movement with deep historical ties to Puntland. The people of SSC, particularly from the Dhulbahante clan, have always maintained cultural, kinship, and political affiliations with Puntland. This was reaffirmed when Puntland sacrificed blood and treasure to support resistance movements over the years — notably during the Las Anod uprisings.

However, after the expulsion of Somaliland from Las Anod in 2023, Puntland inexplicably failed to seize the strategic moment to re-establish its authority and governance structures. This was not merely a symbolic error; it left a vacuum — one that would soon be filled by actors with ulterior motives.

Khatumo’s Rise — and Puntland’s Passive Abdication

Into this vacuum stepped the resurrected Khatumo movement, a faction historically known for political inconsistency and a revolving door of alliances, having at various points aligned with Somaliland and then later with federal actors in Mogadishu. The Puntland leadership mistakenly assumed that SSC’s liberation would naturally evolve into reintegration with the State. Instead, Puntland took a backseat, letting Khatumo activists pursue their own narrow political projects, unmonitored and unaccountable.

This passivity emboldened Khatumo leaders who quickly aligned themselves with Villa Somalia. What emerged was not a grassroots-led administration but a proxy project coordinated by Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s presidency — a regime known for its centralist tendencies and hostility toward federalism as practiced in Puntland.

By refusing to proactively assert moral, political, and security leadership over SSC, Puntland not only lost the upper hand in one of the most geopolitically critical regions of Somalia, it also betrayed the trust of those in SSC who had sacrificed for a Puntland-oriented liberation. The void was filled by opportunists whose allegiances lay not with the region’s long-term interests, but with Mogadishu’s short-term political calculus.

Infiltration by Mogadishu: The Slow Occupation

President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s administration has wasted no time exploiting Puntland’s strategic silence. Through appointments, visits, and selective aid disbursement, Villa Somalia has systematically installed agents, operatives, and anti-Puntland ideologues in SSC. Under the guise of state-building, this central regime is working to dislodge Puntland’s influence from the region altogether.

In fact, the Khatumo leadership’s decision to embrace Villa Somalia has shown itself to be a strategic overreach. Many in SSC have begun to view these moves as nothing more than Mogadishu’s encroachment by proxy — using Khatumo as a convenient façade. Local frustrations are growing. The belief that Mogadishu would bring stability and investment is beginning to fade in the face of increasing central interference, clan fragmentation, and unkept promises.

Strategic Miscalculations of Khatumo Leaders

The Khatumo leadership’s alignment with Mogadishu might have appeared advantageous in the short term, but it is already backfiring. By choosing to provoke Puntland territorially — and alienate one of the few entities that supported SSC militarily and politically for years — Khatumo has committed political suicide.

Not only has this alliance undermined the local legitimacy of Khatumo among SSC residents, but it has also exposed the movement as a puppet of centralist forces that do not respect SSC’s autonomy or its federalist aspirations. The alliance with Villa Somalia has also drawn the ire of traditional elders and prominent figures who now see the movement as compromising the very essence of SSC’s struggle — self-determination without domination from either Hargeisa or Mogadishu.

The Road Ahead: Reclaiming Strategic Ground

Puntland must learn from its strategic error and reassess its posture toward SSC. The region remains central to the geopolitical and security calculus of northern Somalia. Without Puntland’s presence, the SSC region risks descending into another contested zone, fought over by distant federal authorities and political opportunists.

The way forward must include:

1. Re-engagement with SSC communities — not through imposition, but through meaningful consultation and power-sharing arrangements that recognize local aspirations within the Puntland federal framework.

2. Political containment of Khatumo’s overreach, while extending an olive branch to reasonable actors within the movement who understand the perils of Mogadishu’s overreach.

3. Mobilization of traditional elders and grassroots support, to counter the Villa Somalia narrative and reinforce Puntland’s historical support for SSC autonomy.

4. Clear communication to the federal government that Puntland will not tolerate strategic encirclement or federal manipulation through proxy movements like Khatumo.

Conclusion: Puntland Must Act — Now

What Puntland faces today is not simply a loss of territory or influence, but a threat to the very federal balance of Somalia. SSC’s struggle was born out of the aspiration for dignity, self-rule, and resistance against marginalization — ideals that closely align with Puntland’s own founding principles. For Puntland to abdicate its responsibility in SSC is not only a strategic blunder; it is a betrayal of its federalist legacy.

The time to correct this course is now. Puntland must reassert its rightful place in SSC — not with force, but with legitimacy, partnerships, and a vision that transcends narrow politics. Otherwise, it risks becoming a sidelined spectator in a game where it once held all the cards.

By Ismail Warsame
Regional Affairs Analyst and Contributor
July 18, 2025

1. Background: The Puntland–SSC‑Khaatumo schism

In October 2023, Somalia’s Federal Government recognized SSC‑Khaatumo as an interim federal member state (administration covering Sool, Sanaag, Cayn regions) with its capital in Las Anod  . That move sharply conflicted with Puntland’s constitutional claim: Puntland insists SSC regions are legally part of its territory, rejecting separation without inclusive clan consensus or referendum  .

Tensions escalated in mid‑2025, particularly over Sanaag, where SSC‑Khaatumo-affiliated leaders organized conferences backing federal recognition. Puntland responded by banning unapproved gatherings and vehicles (including those with SSC‑Khaatumo or Somaliland plates) in the region, and deploying elite forces to disrupt political activity  .

2. Puntland ends recognition of SSC‑Khaatumo

According to local reporting, Puntland no longer recognizes SSC‑Khaatumo, viewing it as a federal-provoked entity destabilizing governance in Sanaag. Officials allege coordination between Mogadishu and SSC‑Khaatumo leadership in orchestrating “security provocations” within Puntland’s territory. The move forms part of Puntland’s broader assertion of sovereignty in SSC, rejecting any federal-backed entity that bypasses Puntland’s constitutional framework.

3. ISIS threat in Cal‑Miskaad and Puntland’s counterterror response

Separately, Puntland continues intensive operations against ISIS-Somalia cells entrenched in the Cal‑Miskaad mountains:

Operation Hilaac launched in December 2024 and extended into 2025, targeting IS hideouts across the Golis/Cal‑Miskaad ranges. Security forces collaborated with US and UAE air strikes, seizing over 250 km² of territory, destroying 50+ bases, eliminating dozens of militants and eliminating senior ISIS facilitators like Ahmed Muse Said  .

As late as May–June 2025, operations continued—neutralizing logistic hubs, repelling large-scale attacks, and consolidating control over critical terrain  .

Puntland leadership insists ISIS aimed to establish Cal‑Miskaad as a global command center, a plot thwarted by “heroic forces” in parliamentary remarks by President Deni on June 15, 2025  .

4. Will Puntland impose taxes or regulatory restrictions on SSC‑Khaatumo?

While Puntland has not publicly announced new taxation plans targeting SSC‑Khaatumo, the available measures indicate a tightening of administrative controls:

The ban on unauthorized meetings and vehicle plate prohibitions in Sanaag signal an escalation in regulatory pressure  .

Puntland may enforce existing tax schemes and regulatory requirements (e.g. licensing, checkpoints) more strictly in SSC-aligned areas, especially those hosting SSC‑Khaatumo political activity.

Considering Puntland’s broader posture of rejecting SSC‑Khaatumo’s legitimacy, economic sanctions or heightened enforcement are plausible: entry checkpoints, confiscation of non‑Puntland plates, duties on trade, or restrictions on formal services to SSC‑run institutions may be imposed or intensified.

Given the institutional standoff, SSC‑Khaatumo territories may find Puntland withholding administrative approvals, business licenses, or local tax exemptions as leverage. While no explicit new tax law has been quoted publicly yet, increasing regulatory friction is clearly underway.

5. Broader implications: security, politics, and governance

Federal–regional feud: Puntland’s refusal to recognise SSC‑Khaatumo and its operational bans are part of a broader confrontation with Mogadishu, whom it accuses of unconstitutional interference  .

Security connections: Puntland faces a dual-front threat—SSC‑Khaatumo’s politicization in Sanaag and rolling operations against ISIS in Cal‑Miskaad. Each front intersects, as instability in one region can undermine counterterrorism gains elsewhere.

Clan politics and local legitimacy: Puntland cites traditional clan elders in Sanaag who reaffirm Puntland’s territorial rights and reject SSC‑Khaatumo affiliation as destabilizing  .

Issue and Current Status

Recognition: Puntland no longer recognises SSC‑Khaatumo; federal recognition viewed as unconstitutional.
Security measures Bans on meetings and non‑Puntland plate vehicles in Sanaag; deployment of Puntland security forces.
ISIS threat Ongoing. large‑scale counterterror operations across Cal‑Miskaad — major gains under Operation Hilaac.
Tax/regulatory crackdown. No formal new taxes yet, but increased enforcement of permits, licensing, and vehicle regulations in SSC‑aligned areas.
Outlook Likely more regulatory and administrative pressure, potentially economic restrictions, as Puntland asserts control over its claimed territory.

✅ Conclusion

Puntland has taken a firm stance: ceasing recognition of SSC‑Khaatumo, banning its affiliated activities in Sanaag, and positioning itself as the sole authority in SSC regions. Parallel to escalating security operations against ISIS in Cal‑Miskaad, these moves suggest a dual strategy of political consolidation and territorial control. Although no formal new taxes have been announced explicitly targeting SSC‑Khaatumo, the existing bans on meetings, vehicle movements, and likely administrative restrictions count as de facto pressure. As federal–regional tensions deepen, look for further institutional measures—economic or regulatory—to limit SSC‑Khaatumo’s operation within Puntland’s claimed zones.

Once a proud land of nomadic warriors and pastoral wisdom, Somalia today lies fractured, besieged, and preyed upon by regional and global actors who treat it as a chessboard for influence and resource extraction. The struggle for Somalia’s future is no longer an internal matter; it has become a scramble — a ruthless, self-interested competition between foreign powers, aided and abetted by opportunistic local elites who barter national sovereignty for clan leverage and personal gain.

Historical Pride, Present Humiliation

Somalia’s collapse began with internal fissures — dictatorship, warlordism, and endless transitional governments. But now the decay is fed and prolonged by a wider geopolitical contest involving countries such as Turkey, UAE, Qatar, Egypt, Ethiopia, and even Israel — each maneuvering for a slice of Somalia’s land, coast, ports, influence, and strategic location on the Red Sea, Gulf of Aden, and Indian Ocean.

This new scramble for Somalia eerily mirrors the Berlin Conference of 1884-85, where European colonial powers carved Africa into spheres of influence. Today, this is happening again — not with maps and rulers, but with military bases, corrupt deals, infrastructure projects, drone bases, arms shipments, political endorsements, and proxy leaders.

Turkey: Imperial Revivalism Draped in Islamic Brotherhood

Among the most aggressive actors is Turkey, which disguises its neo-Ottoman ambitions under the rhetoric of Islamic solidarity. Ankara has established its largest overseas military base in Mogadishu, trained thousands of Somali troops, and embedded itself in government operations under the banner of development and security. But behind this veneer lies a deeper agenda: domination through dependency.

Turkish companies now manage Mogadishu Port and Airport, while Turkish-trained soldiers form the inner circle of elite military units answerable to Villa Somalia. These are not acts of brotherhood — they are steps toward colonial-style leverage, with Somalia providing cheap loyalty and strategic access in exchange for superficial development.

Case in Point: Hassan Sheikh Mohamud.
President Hassan Sheikh, hailed as a democrat in some Western circles, is widely viewed within Somalia as a divisive figure whose loyalty lies more with Turkish interests and his own personal gain than with national unity. Hassan Sheikh has:

1. Alienated the Darood clans by strategically supporting clan fragmentation in Jubaland, Puntland.

2. Undermined federalism while falsely claiming to champion reconciliation.

3. Used Turkish support to entrench a military apparatus loyal to him, not to the Somali state.

This is not leadership — this is the weaponization of foreign alliances to crush domestic dissent and suppress rival clans.

UAE: Commercial Empire by Proxy

If Turkey brings guns wrapped in religious language, the United Arab Emirates (UAE) comes with cash, ports, and backroom deals. Using financial leverage and political manipulation, the UAE has positioned itself as a commercial hegemon in northern Somalia, particularly through its deep involvement in Berbera Port (Somaliland) and Bosaso Port (Puntland).

The UAE’s strategy is clear:

Exploit federal fragmentation by signing independent port and military agreements with regional states, bypassing the federal government.

Support leaders such as Said Deni in Puntland or figures in Somaliland who will toe the Emirati line in return for funds, equipment, or political endorsement.

Control Red Sea trade routes, undermining Somalia’s chance to ever centralize maritime revenue.

In many ways, the UAE has replicated colonial divide-and-rule tactics, using cash and contracts instead of rifles.

Qatar, Egypt, and the Broader Proxy War

Qatar, a close Turkish ally, has often been accused of financing Islamist networks in Somalia and influencing media and politics through shadow channels. Its rivalry with UAE spills onto Somali soil, turning the country into a battlefield of Gulf enmities.

Egypt, obsessed with Ethiopia’s Nile dam project, sees Somalia as a possible southern flank to pressure Addis Ababa. Egyptian intelligence involvement in Mogadishu is rising, sometimes in competition with Ethiopia and sometimes coordinated with UAE-backed figures.

Meanwhile, Israel’s low-profile involvement through security intelligence and partnerships with Ethiopia and UAE, adds another layer of complexity.

Ethiopia: Historical Hostility in Strategic Garb

Ethiopia — with dreams of sea access — has long played a destabilizing role in Somalia, from invading in 2006 to meddling in regional states. Under Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, Ethiopia has pivoted to a port diplomacy strategy, pushing for naval access through Somalia, Djibouti, or Eritrea. This has resurrected fears of territorial ambition masked as economic need.

The Ethiopian-Somaliland Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) over sea access — supported by some UAE channels — directly threatens Somalia’s territorial integrity. Yet Villa Somalia’s response under Hassan Sheikh has been weak, reactive, and uncoordinated, showing a leadership vacuum in Mogadishu.

Internal Betrayal: Local Elites as Gatekeepers to Foreign Control

None of this foreign interference could happen without local collaborators. Somalia’s elites — especially in Mogadishu — have traded national interest for clan supremacy or financial gain. President Hassan Sheikh’s government has become emblematic of this betrayal, presiding over:

1. The politicization of the military and security forces.

2. The weakening of federalism through manipulative appointments and budgetary blackmail.

3. Tactical alliances with foreign actors who prefer a fragmented Somalia — easier to manipulate and less likely to stand up for itself.

On the other hand, regional leaders like Said Deni in Puntland have played the UAE card for their own survival, equally compromising Somalia’s cohesion in the process.

The Cost: Somalia as a Puppet Theater

The result of this multilayered scramble is clear:

1. National institutions are hollow.

2. Foreign actors pull the strings of key politicians.

3. Somalia’s future is determined in Ankara, Abu Dhabi, Doha, and Addis Ababa — not in Mogadishu or Garowe.

Rather than forging unity, Somali leaders have become intermediaries of foreign interests, deepening the crisis of statehood.

A Path Forward: Resisting the Scramble

The tragedy is not irreversible. But it requires:

1. A genuine national dialogue across clans and regions — without foreign meddling — to agree on a new political contract.

2. Reclaiming sovereignty over key institutions, including ports, airports, and the military.

3. Ending the proxy games, by banning foreign bases and mercenary training programs that answer to foreign capitals.

4. New leadership from within the Somali people, especially among the younger generation, who see beyond clanism and are weary of being pawns in foreign conflicts.

Conclusion

Somalia’s greatest danger today is not just poverty or terrorism. It is the death of national will — the loss of collective identity amid a sea of foreign agendas and internal betrayals. The scramble for Somalia is real, but it can be resisted. Pride, history, and the legacy of those who once united the Somali nation must guide the next generation.

To reclaim Somalia, Somalis must first reclaim Somalia from themselves — and from those who have sold it piece by piece.

The WDM: The Voices of the People. The Mirror of the Nation.

Puntland State of Somalia, once regarded as a beacon of stability and comparative governance in an otherwise volatile region, is now facing one of the worst crises in its history—both politically and economically. The situation unfolding today is not the result of external aggression or unforeseen disaster, but rather a direct consequence of internal mismanagement, political exclusion, and a leadership style that has effectively shut down the engines of government.

The One-Man Show Presidency: A Recipe for Collapse

At the heart of Puntland’s current woes lies an increasingly isolated and opaque presidency that has refused to open itself to the voices of its people, civil institutions, and political actors. President Said Abdullahi Deni’s administration has gradually morphed into a one-man show — closed to ideas, allergic to criticism, and resistant to any form of inclusive dialogue. This autocratic style of leadership has paralyzed institutions and crippled the public administration from the inside out, behaving like absolute monarch no accountability.

Deni’s presidency is widely viewed as inactive and disengaged. Reports and insiders frequently note that the President rarely reports to his place of work, has no visible daily governing schedule, and fails to convene meaningful cabinet or security meetings. In any functional state, especially one surrounded by both domestic and regional threats, such absentee leadership is catastrophic.

Dysfunctional Governance: Ministers in Name Only

Under this administration, ministries exist more in title than in function. Ministers are often appointed not on merit or experience, but through clan favoritism, nepotism, or cronyism. As a result, Puntland’s bureaucracy has been stuffed with incompetent and untrained officials who lack the expertise or authority to implement any meaningful policy.

Government offices are routinely described as ghost institutions. Ministries are devoid of operational budgets, technical staff, and policy direction. There is rampant duplication of duties, and many departments are essentially dead weight. Civil servants are unpaid, projects are frozen, and key state infrastructure has deteriorated beyond recognition. From health and education to justice and internal security, the system is simply not functioning.

Security Meltdown and Lawlessness

The policy of political isolation has extended into Puntland’s security domain. By alienating former allies, refusing meaningful cooperation with traditional community leaders, and undermining coordination with federal or neighboring regional authorities, Puntland’s leadership has allowed security to deteriorate dramatically.

Recent months have witnessed an alarming rise of inter-clan conflicts, ISIS, and organized political groups tearing Puntland State apart. Armed groups are regaining influence in previously pacified areas, and traditional elders — once integral to local dispute resolution — have been sidelined and disrespected. Even in urban centers like Garowe, Bosaso, and Galkayo confidence in security forces has eroded, with many units underfunded, demoralized, and factionalized.

Economic Paralysis and Poverty

Puntland’s economy is in a downward spiral. Once bustling ports like Bosaso, Galkayo’s central markets, and regional trade corridors are now stagnating due to poor infrastructure investment, rampant corruption, and the absence of any economic recovery strategy.

Small businesses are suffocating under rising costs and unpredictable regulations. Foreign investment has dried up. Infrastructure projects funded by donors or multilateral partners have been either hijacked for political gain or deliberately frozen to punish political adversaries. Civil servant salaries are months in arrears. The private sector, once a reliable engine for growth, is shrinking under pressure, forcing many youth into unemployment or out-migration.

This economic collapse is not just a matter of policy failure—it is the natural result of a leadership vacuum and absence of strategic planning.

Political Isolation and Eroding Legitimacy

President Deni’s decision to isolate Puntland politically — both internally and from the broader federal framework — has severely backfired. Where Puntland once played the role of a wise and steady elder in Somali politics, today it has no clear allies. Even regions and factions that historically aligned with Puntland’s interests have now distanced themselves, criticizing its political rigidity and lack of outreach.

The attempt to extend his powers without consensus has only deepened this legitimacy crisis. Civil society, traditional elders, opposition groups, and even sections of the diaspora have turned their backs on the administration, viewing it as illegitimate and out of touch. The public now sees the government not as a custodian of the state but as a personal enterprise led by a man who views public service as private entitlement.

Crossroads: To Be or Not To Be?

What’s happening in Puntland is not merely a governance failure — it is an existential threat to the state’s future. The once-proud region, known for pioneering Somali federalism, drafting the first post-civil war constitution, and creating relatively stable institutions, now teeters on the brink of disintegration.

Puntland is at a critical crossroads — to either reclaim its founding principles of participatory governance, rule of law, and decentralized democracy, or continue down this dangerous path toward autocracy, division, and collapse.

The people of Puntland — intellectuals, elders, youth, business leaders, and women — must now choose whether to remain silent in the face of growing dysfunction or to rise in defense of their future. Puntland’s survival depends not on one man but on a collective course correction. Without accountability, inclusivity, and strategic leadership, the Puntland model will become just another tragic chapter in Somalia’s long struggle for statehood.

Conclusion:

Puntland’s future is still salvageable — but not without immediate action. The time for cosmetic changes and hollow rhetoric has passed. Reform, renewal, and responsible leadership are now the only options. The cost of inaction is clear: political irrelevance, economic collapse, and security breakdown. The people of Puntland must act — and act now — before the window of opportunity closes permanently.

The WDM: The Voices of the People. The Mirror of the Nation.