The Demolition of Somalia's History
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. And Somalia has the unfortunate experience of having endured decades of war, instability, extremism, and corruption, which has left many of its distinct cultural components forgotten, fallen into disrepair or demolished.
Desecration of historical sites and graves is a subject Al-Shabaab is well-versed in. In the very earliest years of the now-dominant jihadist movement in 2005, an Al-Shabaab commander by the name of Adan Hashi Ayrow seized control of an Italian cemetery in Mogadishu from the colonial era to build a base for his growing militant group, disturbing the bones laid there. Years later and out of the shadows, the militant group established a reputation in 2009 and 2010 for desecrating and demolishing the tombs of Sufi sheikhs. In Wahhabism, such tombs are forbidden as a form of idolatry. But, inadvertently, this campaign also intersected with Somalia's complex pattern of clan dynamics, with every Sufi sheikh associated with particular sub-clans and, in turn, helped to inflame the Ahlu Sunna Waljama'a (ASWJ) paramilitary resistance to the militant group.
The jihadist movement is highly selective with the identities and histories that they choose to associate with in the Somali context, as part of their attempts to 'purify' the country. Having drifted somewhat from its origins as a wing of Al-Qaeda and basing itself in the Middle Eastern jihad, many of Al-Shabaab's leaders today routinely reference earlier Islamist militant movements in Somalia as well. Above all, Al-Shabaab seeks to do away with the memories and pleasures of Somalis in the 20th century, be it football, theatre, or freedom of worship. Lido Beach, as a former place of revelling, drinking and dancing where men and women– with their hair uncovered– freely mingled, is antithetical to the jihadist vision. In turn, it has also attacked and destroyed a number of buildings in Mogadishu, such as the Italian Catholic Cathedral that was built in 1927 and modelled on the Norman-style Cefalù Cathedral in Sicily.
Such assaults on Somalia's religious diversity and histories have intersected this week with rising tensions over Villa Somalia's wanton land grabs in Mogadishu-- and their disregard for the few remaining renowned buildings in the capital. Amid decades of warring in Mogadishu, many of the most beloved and storied pieces of architecture in the capital were lost or badly damaged, such as the Garesa Museum and one of the oldest mosques in Africa, the Abdulaziz Mosque. Both have since been reconstructed, albeit in pale imitations of their former selves. But perhaps nowhere is the danger clearer to the capital's history than the famous Mogadishu Lighthouse, an early 20th-century symbol of the Italian-colonial era that has fallen into an abject state of disrepair. Despite the millions of dollars swirling around the real-estate boom in Mogadishu– and the accompanying displacement of thousands from 'public' lands– it seems no money has been spared to restore this iconic piece of the capital's skyline. In fact, the very opposite has been the case, with Villa Somalia on an apparent campaign to flog off the few remaining Italianate buildings of note in Mogadishu, with reports even circulating that the Lighthouse could be up for sale for development.
Villa Somalia's motivations are starkly different to Al-Shabaab-- seemingly motivated by a desire to sell off the sovereignty and the very land of the country itself rather than religious extremism, but many of the end results are nevertheless proving the same. Since the clearances began in earnest last year, everything from former military camps to schools to the School Polizia cemetery has been demolished. The interring of bodies from the Italian School Polizia cemetery in June 2024– a supposed site for Somalia's new naval base with Turkish assistance– proved particularly controversial, going against many Islamic tenets and drawing condemnation from Islamic scholars. Sheikh Ali Wajis– a senior Al-I'tisaam and government-affiliated cleric– waded into the scenes to defend Villa Somalia, but it did not stop government officials from being derided as grave-diggers.
It is not hard to envisage where much of this land is ending up– in the hands and pockets of the political allies of Villa Somalia, and more precisely, members of the president's Abgaal/Waceysle sub-clan. There have been further reports of land deals being used as kickbacks with Turkish businesses, while the government justifies the clearances as an attempt to regenerate Mogadishu. And once again, it is many of the most disenfranchised clans and communities that have been repeatedly displaced and were squatting on disused public land that are facing sudden eviction, such as the Somali Bantu. However, amid rising protests over the demolitions, Villa Somalia's land clearances also nearly sparked clashes this week near Siinay market. The spat arose from President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud reportedly refusing to pay the usual land tithe to the MP and former interim National Intelligence and Security Director Yasin Farey, who also hails from the Abgaal/Waceysle, for the demolitions. Incensed by the disrespect and a former ally of Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo, Farey deployed clan militias to the site to resist the government troops from tearing down the buildings. Waceysle clan elders were called upon to intervene, and it appears that the threat of violence has subsided for the moment. But it shines a light on how the government's clearance campaign is driving tensions across the capital, and divisions even within the president's own sub-sub clan.
A recent Somali Public Agenda study on the Banaadir Regional Administration has further revealed how the federal government is operating in a legal and governance vacuum in Mogadishu, as the administration does "not operate under any legal framework... that provides a legal basis for its tax revenue collection." And this extends across the administration, with the federal government able to operate Banaadir as a fiefdom-- extending its free hand to carve up public land and tax at will. With the mayor and governor handpicked by Villa Somalia, there are far fewer checks and balances to prevent, say, flogging off the ruins of the Mogadishu Lighthouse to a hotel developer. This does not mean that it is not unconstitutional, however, with several prominent Hawiye opposition politicians, including ex-President Sheikh Sherif Sheikh Ahmed, citing Articles 26 and 43 of the Provisional Constitution that stipulate the federal government develop policies for public assets.
In 1970, just a year after Siyaad Barre came to power, a vast rally was organised in Mogadishu, during which a dummy intended to symbolise tribalism and clannism was burned and subsequently buried. The 'burial' was always a farce– with clan identity undimmed in Somalia, and the increasingly totalitarian despot leaning into extreme polarisation by the 1980s. But it was nevertheless symbolised a powerful attempt to reshape the country in Barre's image of 'scientific socialism.' Today, by design, greed, or accident, many of Mogadishu's landmarks are a shadow of their former selves, with the city's heritage up for grabs to the highest bidder. Years of Al-Shabaab's bombing Italian cathedrals and desecration of Sufi tombs are horrendous, motivated by an extremism that would rewrite the country's history and particularly its most liberal post-colonial years. But Villa Somalia's own fire-sale of the capital's land as part of its claims of 'Mogadishu Rising' is egregious as well, and one that is likely to have far-reaching consequences in the years to come. The cultural violence Somalia has experienced-- and continues to undergo-- is not just an attack on the country's past, but one on its future as well.
The Somali Wire Team
