Issue No. 965

The Somaliland-Ethiopia MoU: Ethiopia Missed a Milestone While Somaliland Avoided a Historic Mistake

Today’s editorial in The Somali Wire is written by Dr. Ahmed H. Esa. He is the President of Abaarso Tech University and the Executive-Director of the Institute for Practical Research and Training in Hargeisa, Somaliland. The views expressed in this piece are his own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of The Somali Wire. We publish this contribution to provide our readers with insight into the arguments advanced by key protagonists in Somalia's ongoing public dispute and to encourage informed debate on issues shaping its political future.

The Somaliland–Ethiopia Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) was hailed as a historic breakthrough. In reality, it was a strategic gamble built on contradictions—and its apparent failure may prove to be a blessing in disguise for Somaliland and Ethiopia.

On 1 January 2024, President Muse Bihi Abdi of Somaliland and Ethiopia’s Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed unveiled what appeared to be a geopolitical turning point. Their memorandum of understanding proposed a bold exchange: Ethiopia would gain access to the Gulf of Aden through a naval base on Somaliland’s coast, and in return, Somaliland would receive something it has sought for more than three decades—international recognition.

At first glance, the logic was compelling. Ethiopia, a landlocked nation of over 120 million people, has long sought direct access to the sea for maritime trade and security. Somaliland, meanwhile, has spent decades building a stable, democratic political order without international recognition.

But the agreement quickly revealed deeper contradictions.

Ethiopia’s ambitions outpaced its capabilities. Ethiopia currently has no significant naval capacity. It lost its access to the sea and its naval force following Eritrea’s independence and the subsequent Badme War of 1998-2000. Ethiopian Shipping and Logistics Service Enterprise (ELSE) operates out of Djibouti, and an inland waters coastguard was established last year. It’s also reportedly training a naval force and building a headquarters near Addis Ababa. 

At present, though, Ethiopia lacks a meaningful naval force, which raises immediate questions about the practicality of its quest for a naval base in a foreign land, making the proposed base less a strategic asset than a symbolic gesture. Critics of the MoU in Somaliland suspected that Ethiopia’s base would eventually morph into a commercial port, which would greatly diminish the value of Somaliland ports.

Geography posed an even greater obstacle. A naval facility on the Somaliland coast would depend on transit arrangements across Somaliland territory. Such arrangements would raise difficult questions about sovereignty, territorial integrity, and long-term political control.

For Somaliland, the risks were considerable. Hosting a foreign military presence—particularly from a more powerful neighbor—could have introduced lasting vulnerabilities. Infrastructure corridors and security arrangements often evolve into political leverage, potentially eroding the sovereignty and independence of the host country over time.

The regional reaction was swift. Djibouti, whose economy depends heavily on Ethiopian trade, viewed the agreement as an existential threat. Djibouti camouflaged its opposition as respect for Somalia’s territorial integrity. Somaliland considers Djibouti’s stance disingenuous, given that Djibouti, once considered part of Greater Somalia, rejected joining Somalia at independence in 1977. Egypt, already engaged in tensions with Ethiopia over the Nile, interpreted the MoU as part of a broader strategic challenge. Somalia’s Federal Government reacted with alarm and quickly proposed a port on Somalia’s Indian Ocean coast to Ethiopia. 

What began as a bilateral initiative quickly escalated into a regional contest. The MoU sidelined ongoing trade and transit negotiations between Somaliland and Ethiopia. Ethiopia was originally offered a 19% share in the revitalised Port of Berbera. Critics of the MoU continue to argue that a robust trade agreement between Somaliland and Ethiopia is more useful for both than a contentious naval base.

Under mounting pressure and unresolved disagreements, the MoU stalled. By the time President Bihi left office in late 2024, no binding agreement had been signed. Under the new administration, the deal has effectively disappeared from the political agenda.

Some have framed this as a missed opportunity. But that interpretation overlooks the structural flaws of the agreement.

Recognition tied to a single transactional deal would have come at a steep cost. It would have tied Somaliland’s future to Ethiopia’s strategic priorities. More importantly, it would have required concessions that risked undermining the very sovereignty recognition was meant to secure.

Somaliland’s strength has been its stability, gradual legitimacy, and internal cohesion. A high-risk geopolitical gamble threatened to disrupt all three.

In that sense, the presumed collapse of the MoU may represent not a failure, but a correction.

Somaliland now appears to be pursuing a more cautious and diversified foreign policy—strengthening ties with regional and international partners while maintaining its reputation as a stable actor in an unstable region. In December 2025, Somaliland achieved its long-sought diplomatic breakthrough when Israel fully recognised Somaliland as a sovereign nation.

Ethiopia, meanwhile, still faces the same strategic dilemma: how to secure sustainable access to the sea.

The MoU attempted to solve two long-standing problems with a single bold move. But boldness alone does not guarantee success. In geopolitics, some agreements fail because they are unworkable or too ambitious. The Somaliland-Ethiopia MoU was both.

And in its failure, Somaliland may have avoided a strategic mistake whose consequences would have been far more difficult to reverse.