By: Ahmed Mohamoud Mohamed
On May 14, 2025, President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud officially launched the Party of Justice and Solidarity in Mogadishu. The event was grand, a show of power attended by the Prime Minister Hamza Abdi Barre, federal ministers, parliament leaders, and presidents of several Federal Member States, including Ali Gudlaawe of Hirshabelle, Ahmed Qoor-Qoor of Galmudug, and Laftagareen of Southwest. All three remain in office despite the expiration of their constitutional mandates.
The launch of this new party may seem like a step toward political organization, but in reality, it marks the consolidation of power under a single political umbrella built not on a shared vision for Somalia, but on loyalty, survival, and political maneuvering. Rather than moving Somalia forward, this alliance threatens to pull the country backward, toward a dangerous centralization of power reminiscent of its most authoritarian chapters.
The Party of Justice and Solidarity unites a range of political actors, including members of the Union for Peace and Development Party, the Dam-Jadid faction which has ideological roots in the Muslim Brotherhood, and the Dal-jir movement. These factions may differ in rhetoric and religious leanings, but they are now united by one goal: to secure reelection in 2026 and shield themselves from political vulnerability. This is less a movement for reform than it is a campaign for elite protection and power consolidation.
This project is unfolding in a nation still deeply fragile. Somalia’s institutions remain weak. The provisional constitution is incomplete. Elections are negotiated, not guaranteed. The very foundations of the Somali state, elite consensus, clan power-sharing, periodic elections, are being quietly eroded by a ruling group intent on rewriting the rules to secure its dominance.
Perhaps most alarming is the sidelining of the National Consultative Council, the body that was once central to Somalia’s federal cooperation. Former Somali presidents Mohamed Abdullahi Farmajo and Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, along with former prime ministers, Wadajir party leader Abdirahman Abdishakur Warsame, and numerous scholars, have warned of the consequences of a single-party hegemony that unites the president, prime minister, and several regional state presidents. They accuse President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud of dismantling this critical institution and transforming it into an extension of his political train, as he prefers calling.
Their concerns are valid. The tasks of the National Consultative Council were foundational: leading the federalism process, ensuring inter-regional unity, facilitating the path toward universal suffrage, and completing the provisional constitution. These responsibilities are not symbolic. They are vital to the survival of the Somali state, a state whose legitimacy depends on negotiated power-sharing, periodic elections, and inclusive governance.
In its place, we now have a dominant-party structure consolidating influence over parliament, the judiciary, the Electoral Commission, and state media. There is growing fear that the next election will not be determined by the people, but by a system of patronage, manipulation, and state-sponsored coercion.
Professor Abdurahman Baadiyow has sounded the alarm, urging political leaders to learn from the collapse of past hegemonic parties. The Somalia Youth League once monopolized power under the guise of nationalism, only to be consumed by corruption and clan favoritism, which led to the military coup of 1969. The Somalia Revolutionary Socialist Party, established by the military regime that followed, banned all opposition and functioned as the only legal political entity. It offered services in education and health during its early years, but ultimately deepened authoritarianism, stifled dissent, and presided over the collapse of the Somali state in 1991.
Single-party systems, often associated with authoritarian regimes, thrive on suppressing political competition in the name of unity. Somalia is not new to this. After independence in 1960, the country’s democratic promise quickly deteriorated. The SYL, though once a liberation force, became an exclusionary political machine.
It marginalized opposition under the guise of nationalism, fostered corruption, and fueled clannism. This led directly to the 1969 military coup, which was initially celebrated by the public. That enthusiasm faded when General Siad Barre created the SRSP, banned other parties, and imposed a rigid, socialist orthodoxy. Though the military government achieved some social progress in its early years, it ultimately ruled with repression and left the country in ruins after the 1991 collapse.
Now, Somalia risks repeating these cycles. Today’s political elite; by amending the provisional constitution without national consensus, dominating the federal parliament, capturing oversight bodies like the Auditor General and Judiciary, and stacking the National Electoral Commission, are laying the groundwork for another hegemonic regime. The Justice and Solidarity Party is poised to monopolize the state-building process, electoral architecture, and national resources.
The Party of Justice and Solidarity risks following this same path. It not only sidelines communities, particularly those from marginalized coastal and agricultural backgrounds, but continues to entrench the outdated 4.5 clan formula while claiming to support a shift toward one-person, one-vote elections. It speaks the language of reform yet practices exclusion and domination.
The federal government has also extended legitimacy to the expired leaders of Hirshabelle, Galmudug, and Southwest, enabling them to remain in office and aligning them with the ruling party. This deepens public distrust and undermines the credibility of the next elections. What’s more, national resources are being used to buy political loyalty, reward friendly businessmen, and solidify patronage networks, while the average Somali struggles with soaring unemployment, inflation, and poverty.
This is not an argument against direct elections. On the contrary, Somalia should aspire to one-person, one-vote democracy. But such a transition cannot be imposed by a single ruling group. It requires elite consensus, legal clarity, an independent electoral body, and genuine national dialogue. The crisis of 2021 under former President Farmajo was a clear lesson in the dangers of unilateral electoral frameworks.
Since the Arta peace process of 2000, Somalia has made slow but measurable progress. That progress has relied on fragile consensus among federal and regional leaders, power-sharing across clans, and respect for political rotation. If these foundations are undermined, Somalia risks slipping back into a familiar cycle of conflict, fragmentation, and distrust.
Professor Afyare Elmi has rightly pointed out that Somalia’s political stability depends on democratic settlement. That means elections every four years, inclusive representation, and a parliamentary system grounded in the 4.5 model. It is not a perfect system, but it is the only one that reflects Somalia’s political realities. Discarding it for a winner-takes-all model would be reckless.
The Somali people, especially the youth, have been locked out of decision-making for decades. Aside from the 1961 constitutional referendum and the brief democratic era between 1960 and 1969, they have never had a full voice in shaping their nation. Any move toward democracy must center their participation, not the interests of those already in power.
Somalia does not need a dominant party. It needs democratic dialogue. It needs strong, independent institutions. And above all, it needs leaders who understand that true power comes not from control, but from consensus.
The Author is an Independent Researcher and Lecturer of Political Science and Political Economy.