Issue No. 905

On Tuesday, during a Cabinet meeting, US President Donald Trump launched yet another broadside against Somalia and ethnic Somalis. Referring to Somali immigrants as "garbage," he accused them of "contributing nothing" and "doing nothing but b*tch", saying they should "go back where they came from and fix it." Even for a president infamous for his brashness, these comments are particularly eyewatering. 

The machinery of government has moved in lockstep with Trump, with Scott Bessant, US Treasury Secretary, ordering an investigation into the unverified far-right conspiracies that Minnesotan tax dollars have been siphoned off to Al-Shabaab. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, too, has suggested that her department would target alleged visa fraud in the state. The Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Somalis in Minnesota appears to be under threat from Trump as well—a programme for immigrants from countries in crisis —likely affecting several hundred people. Further, the anticipated deployment of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE)-- the American immigration service, and now an apparent heavily armed quasi-paramilitary force-- to Minnesota is causing understandable alarm amongst the estimated 80,000 Somalis that live there. The overwhelming majority are American citizens. For ethnic Somalis in Minnesota, this vitriolic targeting of their community, egged on by Trump, feels akin to the period post-9/11, when Muslims across the US came under scrutiny for allegations of extremism. Then, these already close-knit communities banded together to resist such external pressures and worked to expunge radicalisation wherever it emerged. 

Somalia was in Trump's crosshairs during his first administration as well, one of several African countries affected by the so-called 'Muslim Ban.' Then, as now, Trump's worldview has been markedly skewed by his relationships, and unfortunately for Somalia, much of this appears to be defined by the president's personal animus toward Ilhan Omar, a prominent ethnic Somali and left-wing Congresswoman representing Minnesota. And since returning to the White House, he has renewed his personal attacks against Mogadishu-born Omar, repeatedly calling for her to 'go home' and deploying a whole host of xenophobic tropes. Being the first woman of colour to represent Minnesota, the first Somali-American in the US Congress, and one of the first two Muslim women to serve in Congress, Omar has become a particular bogeyman for the ascendant far-right in America. The latest barrage against Somalis and Somalia from the Republican administration has followed weeks of lengthy diatribes by Trump against her.

Even so, there was still hope that the mercurial president might adopt a less paternalistic stance from Washington towards Africa than the Biden government upon his victory in November 2024. But this year, American foreign policy towards Africa has been scattergun at best, driven by a motley of aims, including countering jihadism, competing with China for rare-earth minerals, and mollifying Gulf allies to allow them to advance their own strategic interests. And throughout this, a clear sense of self-interest has pervaded —as evidenced by the insertion of American companies into the DRC ceasefire deal in June. Some savvy African leaders have expertly capitalised on this, such as the DRC's Felix Tshisekedi, but others have been left floundering, including South African President Cyril Ramaphosa, who has had to bat away bizarre claims of Afrikaner genocides amplified by far-right Americans. But for those in the Horn of Africa, the decimation of USAID has been the most notable shift, shuttering numerous programmes on everything from HIV/AIDS prevention to girls' education.

For Somalia, President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud has repeatedly tried —and failed —to capture the attention of a disinterested Washington, offering earlier this year to hand over control of the ports of Bosaaso and Berbera, which Mogadishu of course does not control. Villa Somalia has repeatedly failed to convince the more militarised posture of the US that it is a convincing counter-terror partner. And so, one positive ray has been the increasing diversification of American military support and AFRICOM strikes in support of Puntland and Jubaland, as well as developing security relationships with Somaliland. But even though America's posture toward Somalia has not yet taken a defined shape by December, it appears the US will step back from its prominent political role. Unable to offer oil, gold, or personal enrichment to Trump's family, Somalia is likely to remain marginal.

And so Somali politicians are caught in a bind by Trump's latest barrage, all too aware of how quickly the president can turn on his supposed allies. The chewing out of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy by Trump and Vice President JD Vance in February may have made for box-office viewing, but it epitomised the dizzying turn and the overnight upending of traditional American foreign policy. PM Hamza Abdi Barre has sought to downplay Trump's remarks this week, suggesting it is "better to ignore" them and pointing to the American president's similar barrages against Nigeria and South Africa this year. Others, including President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, have sought to double down on their 'Mogadishu Rising' narratives, arguing that the country is in a better state today than many acknowledge. And Somali state foreign minister, Ali Omar 'Bal'ad' hit back on X, stating that "it has become too easy for some to use Somalia as a scapegoat or distraction from their own failures," though he did not name Trump. Less acknowledged by these leaders was that even some Mogadishu citizens have accepted Trump's brash comments of political chaos and continued civil war in Somalia.

The jihadists haven't kept quiet either. In a statement put out by its prolific Al-Karrar Office, the militants call the "accusations inflammatory and unfounded." Unsurprisingly, it quickly devolves into its own framing of the US as bearing a "dark history of involvement in Somalia, marked by the brutal killing of Somali civilians, prominent intellectuals and community leaders," and that Al-Shabaab will not waver against fighting "disbelieving crusaders." But this too should be understood as part of a broader, subtle reframing of the jihadists, as it explicitly and increasingly taps into discourses of both domestic resentment and Somali nationalism. Still, surely, if Al-Shabaab did employ fundraisers in Minnesota—as it does throughout much of the diaspora through sophisticated underground networks—the group would hardly admit it. 

With federal elections just months away, the US may still have an important role in Somalia to play, but such comments by Trump-- even if some of his broadsides against the Somali government are accurate-- hardly make the positive case. And for the diaspora Somalis in Minnesota, they face the unenviable task of defending their dignity and citizenship in a country whose commander-in-chief seems intent on turning them into a domestic political foil.

The Somali Wire Team