Somalia’s Security Sector in Broken: here’s how the new government can fix it (Part 1)
When the general is weak and without authority; when his orders are not clear and distinct; when there are no fixed duties assigned to officers and men, and the ranks are formed in a slovenly haphazard manner, the result is utter disorganisation.
- Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Over the past two weeks, Somali security forces have scored a number of major victories over Al-Shabaab. In late June, Danab special forces mounted a surprise offensive in Hirshabelle state, catching the militants offguard with a rapid series of raids on known strongholds between Jowhar and Matabaan. Further north, near the remote village of Baxdo in Galmudug state, a combination of local defence forces known as macawiisley and militias from the Sufi Ahlu Sunna wal Jama’a (ASWJ) movement killed more than 70 members of Al-Shabaab who tried to capture the settlement on 17 June. These constitute arguably the most serious setbacks inflicted on the jihadists in more than five years.
Somalia’s security sector expanded dramatically under the administration of President Mohamed Abdillahi Farmaajo, fuelled by billions of dollars of external assistance. Indeed, Somalia now has far more security personnel than it realistically needs or could possibly afford: over 53,000 at the federal level and roughly 23,000 more distributed between the Federal Member States (FMS). And these figures don't even take into account the 20,000 ATMIS troops still in-country or the 22,500 more SNA planned under the AU's 'force generation' component.
The Somali National Army (SNA), built largely with European and American support, alone numbers more than 25,000. In addition, Turkey contributed a special forces brigade, known as Gorgor, with more than 5,000 highly trained personnel, and a 1,200-member paramilitary police unit named Haram’ad – both equipped with modern Turkish weapons and equipment. Qatar poured resources, training and equipment into the National Intelligence and Security Agency (NISA), which now possesses approximately 10,000 armed personnel (including more than 5,000 recruits trapped in Eritrea).
Despite these formidable numbers, only one major government offensive operation has been staged against Al-Shabaab in the past five years (the inconclusive Operation Baadbaado in 2019) and most of the country, including almost all major roads, remains outside government control.
So, what has suddenly changed? Why have 500 Danab commandos and a mob of ill-trained and poorly equipped militia been able to inflict more damage on Al-Shabaab in the past two weeks than 20,000 SNA, 5,000 Gorgor and thousands of police and NISA paramilitaries managed to achieve over the past five years?
The answer, quite simply, is political will. The Farmaajo administration’s inner circle was dominated by his Chief of Staff (later his intelligence czar), Fahad Yasin, together with a clique of Salafi Islamists – many of them former jihadists – who perceived Al-Shabaab as a competitor rather than as a threat. In 2018, with the help of Eritrea, Farmaajo started a dialogue with Al-Shabaab that established a tenuous truce, while Qatar nudged both sides towards formal negotiations.
In the meantime, Farmaajo and Fahad re-oriented the Somali security sector to subjugate the FMS and suppress political rivals instead of fighting Al-Shabaab. Farmaajo appointed loyalist cronies and underqualified flunkies to key security posts, politicising the senior leadership and short-circuiting the formal chains of command. Bloated with hundreds of millions of dollars in foreign aid and a small army of foreign consultants, the security sector swelled into an enormous self-licking ice-cream cone and any pretext of a counterinsurgency campaign fizzled away into an episodically lethal game of “capture the flag.”
Within days of taking office in May 2022, HSM announced that he would resume the fight against Al-Shabaab. Danab’s rapid deployment for operations in the Shabelle valley is a clear signal of this new political will and the termination of any tacit understanding between Villa Somalia and the jihadists. But Danab alone cannot restore security and stability to Somalia: the full weight of the national security establishment must be brought to bear.
For a start, the new Commander-in-Chief can no longer rely upon the same crop of hidebound, housebroken service chiefs to miraculously deliver better results than in the past. A comprehensive overhaul of the military, police and intelligence leadership is essential. Holdovers from Farmaajo’s regime, especially former members of Al-Shabaab, should be vetted and purged before they can do any more damage.
Reform of the security sector must not be limited to the fight against Al-Shabaab: the new President and PM should take a much longer-term view of Somalia’s strategic priorities, laying the foundation for a professional, capable security sector that is right-sized, affordable, and configured to address Somalia’s future national security threats. For that to happen, they need to undertake a critical review – a ‘Red Team’ assessment - of the assumptions, plans and institutions they’ve inherited, resist pressures to double down on vested interests and poor past decisions, and appoint new service chiefs who can understand and adapt to the challenges of 21st century warfare.
Another major challenge will be to rein in and rationalise a security sector whose growth has inflated completely out of control. The May 2017 ‘Security Pact’ between Somalia and its donors envisaged 18,000 personnel for the army and 32,000 for the police, beyond which (according to World Bank projections) they would represent an unsustainable burden on the national budget. Instead Farmaajo encouraged the SNA to balloon to nearly than 30,000 troops, and the police to 37,000 – of which more than half are on the federal payroll.
Adding to this unsustainable debt burden, NISA has quietly acquired a private army of nearly 10,000 troops in violation of the Provisional Constitution and outside any recognisable chain of command. Although the existence of small, highly specialised units like Gaashaan and Waran may be justified within NISA’s mission, Duufaan’s paramilitaries and the goons of the People’s Defence Forces (modelled on General Mohamed Siyaad Barre’s Guulwadayaal, or ‘Victory Pioneers’) should be stood down with immediate effect and their personnel either distributed to other units or demobilised altogether.
Rationalising, ‘right sizing’, and reorienting Somalia’s security forces to their mission are just the first steps in cleaning up the mess that Farmaajo and his cronies left behind. Restructuring them along federal lines and embedding them in a comprehensive, integrated “whole-of-government” security framework is also critical if the new government’s political will is to be translated into durable results on the ground.
And in the near-term, a way must also be found to harness the potential of local militias and community defence forces, like those that crushed Al-Shabaab at Baxdo last week but which, on paper at least, do not officially exist - a topic that will be addressed in the second part of this editorial.
The Somali Wire Team
Gain unlimited access to all our Editorials. Unlock Full Access to Our Expert Editorials — Trusted Insights, Unlimited Reading.
Create your Sahan account LoginUnlock lifetime access to all our Premium editorial content
'Give Peace a Chance' was the title of a 1969 single written by John Lennon, recorded during his famous honeymoon 'bed-in' with Yoko Ono. Capturing the counterculture sentiments of the time, it was adopted as an anthem of the anti-Vietnam War movement in the following decade. Thirty years later, a provocative inversion of the title-- 'Give War a Chance'-- was adopted in a well-known Foreign Affairs article by Edward Luttwak in 1999, in which he argued that humanitarian interventions or premature negotiations can freeze conflict, resulting in endless, recurring war. Luttwak contended that war has an internal logic, and if allowed to 'run its course', can bring about a more durable peace.
A foreign-backed president, a besieged capital city, and a jihadist movement affiliated with Al-Qaeda-- this time not Somalia, but Mali. Late last week, Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), the transnational Salafist-jihadist group in Mali, stormed across much of the country's north, as well as entering Bakamo and assassinating the defence minister. The coordinated offensive-- in conjunction with the Tuareg separatist movement, the Azawad Liberation Front (ALF)-- has left the military junta reeling, and forced the withdrawal of their Russian allies from a number of strategic towns.
Last week, a bombshell Wall Street Journal article revealed that Washington was exploring a reset in relations with Eritrea, with US envoy for Africa Massad Boulos having met privately with senior regime officials in Egypt. Any normalisation of ties now appears to be on ice, with the reaction to Boulos's meetings — facilitated by Egypt — having been met with short shrift. But the episode speaks to broader issues about American foreign policy in the Horn and the accelerating reconfiguration of the Red Sea political order, which will not go away simply because this particular overture may have stalled.
Last weekend, the Murusade, a major sub-clan of the powerful Hawiye clan family, staged one of the largest and most colourful coronations of a clan chief in recent memory in Mogadishu. The caleemasarka (enthronement) of Ugaas Abdirizaq Ugaas Abdullahi Ugaas Haashi, the new Ugaas or sultan of the Murusade, was attended by thousands of delegates from all parts of Somalia. Conducted next to the imposing and magnificent Ottomanesque Ali Jim'ale Mosque, on the Muslim day of rest, Friday, the occasion blended the Islamic, the regal and the customary; a restatement of an ancient tradition very much alive and vibrant.
With all eyes trained on the Strait of Hormuz blockades and their geopolitical convulsions, discussions and concerns, too, have risen about the perils of other globalised chokepoints, not least the Bab al-Mandab. The threats to the stability of the Bab al-Mandab, the Gulf of Aden, and the Red Sea may not arise principally from the escalatory logic that the US, Iran, and Israel have been locked in, but the threats posed from collapse and contested sovereignty offer little relief. Off Somalia's northern coastline in particular, it is transnational criminal networks — expressed in smuggling, piracy, and, less visibly but no less consequentially, illegal, unreported, and unregulated (IUU) fishing — that define the character of offshore insecurity. It is this last phenomenon that provides the foundation on which much of Somalia's maritime disorder is built, and which remains the most consistently neglected.
In the past months, a number of unsettling images and videos have emerged from the Russian frontlines in the Ukraine war. Within the horrors of the grinding "kill zone," where kamikaze drones strafe the sky for any signs of movement, yet another concerning dimension has emerged—the use of African recruits by Moscow in the conflict, often under false pretences. Particularly drawn from Kenya, many reportedly believed they were signing contracts to work as drivers or security guards, only to be shipped to the front lines upon arrival. Such activities are illustrative of several issues, including Russia's relationship with countries in the Horn of Africa, one shaped more by opportunistic realpolitik than genuine partnership.
Villa Somalia's triumph in Baidoa may yet turn to ashes. Since the ousting of wary friend-turned-foe, Abdiaziz Laftagareen, in late March, the federal government has ploughed ahead with preparations for state- and district-level elections in South West. Nominally scheduled for next week, President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud has chosen to reward his stalwart parliamentary ally, Aden Madoobe from the Rahanweyne/Hadaamo, with the regional presidency after some vacillation, naming him the sole Justice and Solidarity Party (JSP) candidate
Another showdown over Tigray's political architecture is unfolding, with the future of the Tigray Interim Administration (TIA) once again at stake. For much of this year, fears of renewed war have loomed over Ethiopia's northernmost region, with the federal government mobilising substantial forces to the edges of Tigray.
In Act III, Scene I of William Shakespeare's tragedy Coriolanus, the tribune Sicinius addresses the gathered representatives and, rejecting the disdain the titular character displays towards plebeians, defends them, stating, "What is the city but the people?" Capturing the struggle between the elite and the masses of ancient Rome, the line has remained politically resonant for centuries--emphasising that a city, democracy, and state rely on the people, not just their leader. Or perhaps, not just its buildings. It is a lesson missed by Villa Somalia, though, with the twilight weeks of President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud's term in office — at least, constitutionally — dominated by the government's twin campaigns in the capital: land clearances and the militarisation of Mogadishu.