Somalia’s president must choose reconciliation over coercion before the capital becomes the next test
This week, speaking to a room of lawmakers drawn from his party, President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud tried very hard to reassure a nervous capital. Dawan reports that he said no one is being attacked, no house is being marked for operations, and not a single politician is in prison so far.
I would like to believe that but such reassurance is not entirely convincing, and the surrounding days tell a more troubling story.
On 11 October, the intelligence agency NISA accused armed men loyal to former president Sharif Sheikh Ahmed of attacking its forces. Sharif’s office denied it, saying troops were deployed near his home, staff abducted, and roadblocks erected to block food and water from coming in. The same day, the Somali Journalists Syndicate says, NISA seized Himilo Media journalist Khadar Abdirahim Ibrahim, and gave no reason for the arbitrary arrest. To add onto all this, the electoral commission set federal elections for April and May 2027, a timetable the opposition, chiefly Puntland and Jubaland outrightly reject.
I am not claiming here that the president has threatened anyone, or that these events form a particular plan. What is to be expected, when consensus is refused and opponents say they fear for their safety, “nobody is being attacked” settles nothing at all. So the question is simple: can Somalia keep political competition peaceful in these conditions?
Baidoa gives a warning.
What happened in Baidoa
South West’s assembly re-elected Abdiaziz Laftagareen on 28 March, and Mogadishu rejected the result. On 30 March federal troops, backed by local armed groups opposed to him, took Baidoa and he was said to be forcefully made to resign, as per Reuters. He says he was under military pressure for two months; the government says its forces were welcomed jubilantly. The accounts vary drastically. The sequence does not: a regional president who defied Mogadishu lost his capital within days, and his office along with it.
On 10 June the federal speaker, Adan Madobe, was elected state president with 88 of the 90 votes cast. Rival candidates had complained about glaring ballot secrecy and federal influence, and one withdrew mid-vote, saying lawmakers were allowed in with phones inside the hall despite a prior agreement not to. But when the strongest challenger walks out and the winner takes 88 of 90, the election has produced a declared winner, not legitimacy.
Unrest followed: fighting erupted in Baidoa on 17 August, and AP reported another clash in September. Force decided who could lead, and the dispute is still ongoing.
Mr. President, Baidoa is a warning for Mogadishu. Here lives former presidents, prime ministers, elders and all the guards who protect them. Impose a contested settlement in this capital and the consequences would be far worse. Exclusion and intimidation push opponents towards seeking armed protection. Armed protection strengthens factions. Factionalism ultimately will revive the warlord era politics Somalis know too well.
This is not an inevitable end. It is preventable. Baidoa must be a lesson, not an archetypal model.
A child needs milk
Somalia’s federal system is a child. It needs milk to grow: patience, trust, compromise and institutions people believe in. It does not need a stick.
Federalism means little when regional leaders believe survival depends on pleasing the president at the center. Critical Threats reports federal forces were deployed to Dhusamareb from May to pressure Galmudug’s President Qoor-Qoor to step aside; he announced on 26 June that he would not stand. The motive is the analysts’ reading; the deployment and withdrawal are documented. In Hirshabelle, President Ali Gudlawe agreed in April to run on the president’s party ticket, and that party won 78 of 99 assembly seats. I do not know what orders were given. I do know no federation matures when its politics becomes a contest between regional leaders and the president for control of institutions.
Puntland and Jubaland are different: not replaced yet, but resisting, and Puntland seized three federal-aligned bases in August. It should have been foreseen that pressure breeds resistance.
Galmudug deserves a closer look. The Supreme Court annulled the 30 July election, finding it breached the constitution and electoral law. I credit that. But Towfiiq, the party that brought the case, was left off the list for the rerun, with no detailed public explanation. The president’s party won 67 of 89 seats. I do not know the legal basis for the exclusion. A court-ordered rerun is not a settlement if the challenger cannot stand in it.
Mr. President, do not destroy this experiment for immediate victories. Return to reconciliation before disagreement hardens.
The rules and the incumbent
On 4 March, parliament voted to extend the presidential and parliamentary terms from four years to five. Reuters reportedthat 222 of 329 lawmakers approved by acclamation, over opposition objections. The government says the amendments give it that mandate; the opposition says your term ended on 15 May 2026, and Sharif has asked the Supreme Court to annul them.
This is not Farmaajo’s 2021 extension: his was a two-year extension by lower-house motion, which the Senate rejected; yours is a constitutional amendment passed by both chambers. But you opposed him then, and the principle stands: tenure rules lose credibility when incumbents benefit from rewriting them.
How opponents are treated
Peaceful competition is hard when politicians fear arrest and journalists fear prison. Sacdiyo Bajaj is an activist, not a politician. Amnesty says NISA arrested her on 12 April after she criticised the government. A court sentenced her to three years for incitement; an appeals court freed her on 12 August after 123 days. The president spoke of politicians; that does not answer how criticism is treated.
The Journalists Syndicate counts 13 arbitrary arrests of journalists in Mogadishu this year. In September, General Mahad Abdirahman Adan, known as Shub, survived an explosion at his Doolow home. Jubaland blamed Turkish drones; the federal government denied involvement, citing preliminary information of explosives inside, and promised an inquiry. On 13 October an anti-money laundering committee froze the assets of ten people, including Shub and Laftagareen, over suspected al-Shabaab links.
A freeze is not a conviction. Fighting terror financing is legitimate; frightening political rivals is not. The line between them is due process. Show the evidence.
What I saw on 3 June
I was in Mogadishu on 3 June. I witnessed the fear that political confrontation can bring to ordinary people in Mogadishu. As government forces and armed men confronted one another near the place where former Prime Minister Hassan Ali Khaire was staying in, residents faced the frightening reality of violence unfolding in their neighbourhood. Whatever the competing accounts of that day, one principle should be beyond dispute: political disagreements must not put civilians and their homes at risk. In a country still struggling to establish lasting peace, the use of force in political disputes carries consequences far beyond the leaders involved.
The enemy that waits
Human Rights Watch reports that al-Shabaab has regained territory the government recovered in 2022, and the Africa Center for Strategic Studies says it came within 50 kilometres of Mogadishu by July 2025. Crisis Group warned that political divisions diverted Mogadishu’s attention from the war. Critical Threats reports that federal forces were redeployed from front lines to Dhusamareb.
I do not claim every soldier sent to a political flashpoint would otherwise face al-Shabaab. The costs are broader: divided attention, strained trust, and openings for insurgents.
They tried it too
Compaoré tried to scrap term limits in 2014; protesters burned parliament and he resigned the next day. Nkurunziza’s third-term bid in 2015 set off a failed coup and violence that killed hundreds; Human Rights Watch said he ruled through fear. Jammeh conceded defeat in 2016, rejected it, and left in January 2017 after West African troops entered The Gambia. These countries differ from Somalia, and nothing is destined. But when leaders put power above institutions, the damage outlasts the presidency.
What will remain
Mr. President, what will remain of Somalia’s institutions when you leave? Machiavelli warned rulers to keep their hands off their subjects’ property, because men forget a father’s death faster than a lost inheritance. He meant land and goods; Somalis feel the same about their homes, their say and their safety. A precedent that serves you today can serve your rival tomorrow.
Somalia cannot afford another era of warlord politics, journalists detained, or opponents jailed without due process. A country still fighting al-Shabaab cannot settle disputes with guns.
Return to reconciliation. Protect real competition. Give your young federation the patience it needs, the milk that lets it grow.
When this is over, what will the next generation inherit: institutions that settle disagreements peacefully, or a political order in which every new leader fears the next president?
BY: Abdirisack Hassan Farah
