Issue 93

Clashes from Mogadishu to Gedo as talks collapse On the eve of Eid al-Adha, President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud (HSM) addressed the nation. With a resurgent Al-Shabaab bearing down on Mogadishu and under intense domestic and international pressure, the president begrudgingly agreed to open dialogue. The Somali National Army (SNA) had proven itself badly inept, and the impetus for Villa Somalia to retreat from its centralising and autocratic agenda was considered not just political but essential for the country's national security. But the president was never serious. And in the weeks that followed, HSM has weaponised the painstaking talks with the National Salvation Forum (NSF) to stave off international scrutiny, while further consolidating his rigged direct electoral plan through his Justice and Solidarity Party (JSP) and carving out clan enclaves in Sool and Gedo. Though the imminent danger to the capital-- from Al-Shabaab-- has passed for the time being, with fighting erupting in the streets of Mogadishu and violence simmering in the Mareehaan-dominated region of Jubaland, the talks appear to have finally broken down.

The heyday of multilateralism appears to be well and truly over, with nearly all bodies, from the UN to the African Union to the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD), increasingly depleted and wrestling with crises of legitimacy and relevance in 2025. The erosion of the norms that underpinned these institutions that have anchored the international peace and security architecture has many origins-- and many casualties. Principal among the losses from this multilateral decline has been peacekeeping operations, with the traditional international community ever less willing to invest in cumbersome, multinational missions. Yet the Horn of Africa still hosts two-- increasingly fraught-- peacekeeping missions in Somalia and South Sudan.

Without Al-Ictisaam b'il Kitaab wa Sunna (Al-I'tisaam), you cannot understand Al-Shabaab. The shadowy neo-Salafist movement is the 'big brother' of the violent Al-Qaeda affiliate, and it is no exaggeration to refer to it as the single most important, least understood force in Somali politics. The legitimate and licit ideological twin to Al-Shabaab, Al-I'tisaam is the silent partner that has peacefully advocated the jihadists' objectives for over two decades. At times, the two movements have clashed —particularly in the early 2010s —but today, they are engaged in a prickly competition for the same end goal: "to establish [in the words of Al-I'tisaam] the Religion of Allah on the earth and to rule by His Legislation." And while Al-Shabaab may have seized the headlines with its armed struggle, it is Al-I'tisaam's version of jihad that has earned the movement its place as the most influential neo-Salafi group in Somalia, operating a vast array of businesses, charities, madrassas, mosques, universities and much more besides. And with such wealth has come legitimacy and influence; Al-I'tisaam's sway extends to Hargeisa, Garowe, Mogadishu, and even Nairobi.

The Tigray war was not the first sign of a decayed international order, but it was undoubtedly one of the bloodiest. Ethnic cleansing, crimes against humanity, war crimes, mass sexual violence, induced starvation, telecommunications blackout, mass killings, and more besides defined the war on the Tigrayan people, carried out by the Ethiopian government and its Eritrean allies and Amhara paramilitaries. At least 600,000 people perished in the two-year conflict between 2020 and 2022, and over 120,000 women and girls were estimated to have been raped. And over two and a half years since the fighting ceased, harrowing stories and reports continue to emerge almost every day from the conflict, only adding to the reams of evidence stacking up against particular soldiers, units, and commanders. However, under the current federal administration and with another conflict involving Asmara and Addis looming —this time against one another —such questions of justice and accountability appear more distant than ever before.

OPOV or not OPOV? That is the Shakespearean question upon which Somalia's political future would depend. But is it really? The question has consumed the country and commentators for months, but the very term itself-- 'one-person, one-vote' (OPOV)-- does not begin to reflect the situation today. President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud's (HSM) professed commitment to conduct OPOV elections for the federal parliament in May 2026 is both a disingenuous misnomer and a deft gesture of political sleight of hand. For a host of reasons, it is by now apparent to all concerned that an OPOV poll in Somalia is inconceivable under present circumstances. Even HSM has privately acknowledged as much. So why are we still talking about it?

Sequels are rarely as good as the original movie, and 'threequels' even less so. The ongoing Ugandan People's Defence Force (UPDF)-led and Somali National Army (SNA) offensive in Lower Shabelle is following the same tired plot as its predecessors, and as anticipated, it is playing out in a toe-curling fashion. First, there was the unsuccessful Operation Leopard Hunt-- to dislodge Al-Shabaab from several of the strategic 'bridge towns' of Lower Shabelle, namely Sabiid, Bariire, and Awdheegle, then there was Operation Badbaadho, to again, clear the jihadists from the towns. And now, over five years on Badbaadho, we are seeing the same story play out in Operation Silent Storm, albeit with a greatly demoralised and degraded SNA.

On 30 June, Kenya's Supreme Court issued a landmark ruling affirming the inheritance rights of children born out of wedlock to Muslim fathers. Amid ongoing debates about the relationship between religion and the state in Kenyan society today, the unanimous decision has thrown down a gauntlet to traditional interpretations of Islamic inheritance law, which typically deny estate rights to out-of-wedlock children. Intended to bring such statues in line with mainstream Kenyan law and better ensure these children's rights, it has triggered uproar in the Muslim community surrounding Kenya's pluralistic legal system.

In the 21st century alone, Palmyra, Tigray, the Buddhas of Bamiyan, Odessa, and Khartoum, and many more besides, have all borne witness to targeted cultural violence, wiping out centuries and millennia of worship, artefacts, and unique histories that can never be reclaimed. Some have been targeted for theological or religious reasons– such as the ancient sites in Palmyra by Daesh– or part of a broader genocidal attempt to stamp out a civilisation– as was the case in Tigray– or simply greed– like the looting of the Khartoum museums by the Rapid Support Forces. But in many cases, it denotes a rewriting of history, an attempt by a political movement or armed group to coerce and impose their particular vision for the country on the objects, buildings, and cultural identities that comprise it.

One has to hand it to the Somali Regional State (SRS) President, Mustafa Omer Agjar; in a country not without unpopular politicians, he has a striking ability to aggravate so many in a single stroke. Without warning, on 27 July, the Somali Regional State Council announced that 14 new woredas, four zonal administrations, and 25 municipal leadership offices were to be established. The outcry has been furious and immediate, with senior Oromo and Afar politicians voicing their displeasure at what they perceive as irredentism by the SRS in their regions. Overhauling administrative units along the Oromia-SRS boundary was always likely to prove highly contentious, but the host of changes has triggered major protests in several towns within the SRS as well. With a year out from elections, the much-loathed Agjar appears to be continuing to consolidate his position as regional president.