In recent years, an increasingly sophisticated understanding of the nuances of autism has emerged across much of the world. Advanced ways of identifying and supporting those with neurodivergence have materialised, particularly in education and in the job market. That has not been the case in Somalia, however, even though medical studies have revealed disproportionately high diagnosis rates amongst Somali children in some Western countries. Instead, traditional Somali understandings of mental health and neurodivergence continue to operate in a rigid binary, centred around the concept of waali (insanity). Within Somali culture, there is limited room for developmental or neurological differences that do not fall within these expectations of either psychosis or normalcy.
In mid-June, a highly choreographed show of bonhomie was organised at the Mereb Bridge in Tigray, which connects Ethiopia's northernmost region to Eritrea. Waving Eritrean and Tigrayan flags, communities seemingly came together in an attempt to display a buried hatchet at the local level, over two years on from the calamitous war that left hundreds of thousands of Tigrayans dead. These bizarre images, rather than reflecting any genuine move towards reconciliation or justice and accountability, are instead part of the deepening ties between the dominant faction within the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF) in Mekelle and Asmara. Behind the warming relations, however, are eerie similarities with the current rhetoric of Mekelle, Addis, and Asmara, and that of the months leading up to November 2020 and the outbreak of war.
After months of climbing tensions, Somalia's federal government and the so-called 'national opposition' are now tentatively engaged in dialogue. Last week, the second round of talks took place at Villa Somalia, with renewed hope for a breakthrough on a roadmap for the federal elections scheduled for May 2026. Meanwhile, the newly established National Dialogue Forum should further help diminish the potential for violence on the streets of Mogadishu. Yet, the bonhomie between President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud and the coalition Somali Salvation Forum (SSF), led by former President Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, cannot mask the fact that the road ahead will be fraught with hurdles as Villa Somalia continues to press ahead with its destabilising electoral agenda.
This week, Somaliland President Abdirahman 'Irro' travelled to Qatar for what was billed as a "historic visit," the first sitting leader of the unrecognised polity to be received in Doha. It certainly proved historic, but unlikely in the way that the Waddani administration hoped for, with the Qatari PM and Foreign Minister Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman Al-Thani springing a chastening press release following their meeting. The last lines of the Qatari PM's statement were particularly toe-curling for Hargeisa, asserting that "Qatar's belief that Somalia's future is built through openness and constructive communication among all its components, to ensure respect for the sovereignty and national unity of the Federal Republic of Somalia." Though the Somaliland government has tried to brush it off, it may prove a wake-up call for the complexities of navigating relations with Doha and others.
With political insecurity and conflict simmering across nearly every country in the Horn of Africa, Nairobi's relative stability —barring the fitful Gen Z protests —is a welcome and necessary change for regional elites, compared to the ruins of Khartoum and the insecurity of Juba and Mogadishu. In prominent hotel bars and restaurants across the Kenyan capital, exiled opposition figures routinely gather to discuss their next moves or commiserate about the state of their country and region. The political elites of Ethiopia, Somalia, South Sudan, and others have long maintained families and properties in Nairobi's lush neighbourhoods, aware of the need for a potential haven amidst the mercurial politics of their own countries. But with insecurity and political repression rising across much of the Horn, so is the capital flow increasing into Nairobi as growing numbers relocate their wealth-- often illicitly.
With national elections anticipated in Ethiopia in 2026 and the country facing immense turmoil, it is worth considering how they might shape up. While a year is plenty of time, there is little to currently suggest that they will be free, fair, or open, but instead-- much like their predecessors-- a highly choreographed affair that can imbue little to no legitimacy on the ruling Prosperity Party. Instead, internal armed conflict, shrunken democratic space, and the ongoing throes of state contraction are all highly likely to frustrate the democratic will of the Ethiopian people. And despite an appearance of contestation that may be permitted at the ballot box itself, the possibilities of genuine political alternation will be virtually none, with PM Abiy Ahmed having cemented his grip on power since the last set of polls in 2021.
Every Thursday, Somalis can tune into Radio Andalus, an Al-Shabaab-affiliated radio station, to listen in to a jihadist commander wax lyrical about their upbringing and commitment to the cause. In one such recent interview with Al-Shabaab's appointed Banaadir Governor, Muse Abdi Arraale, he recounts his life, having grown up in Hargeisa before joining Waxda Al-Shabaab Al-Islamiyya (Islamic Youth Unity group) as a teenager and being imprisoned by the Siad Barre regime. Explicitly tying himself to groups beyond Al-Qaeda proper, such interviews represent an attempt to both position these extremist commanders in Somalia's Islamist history as well as humanise them. Increasingly tapping into discourses of Somali nationalism, Al-Shabaab's prolific propaganda output remains among the most sophisticated of any insurgent group. The London-based Tech Against Terrorism, which monitors extremist online content, assesses that Al-Shabaab is "the largest single producer of terrorist material on the internet."
On 26 April 1937, the Spanish town of Guernica was reduced to rubble by German Luftwaffe bombers. Conducted in support of Franco's nationalist troops, the bombing marked a turning point in modern warfare, where civilians were considered no longer collateral damage — they were targets. A few weeks later, Pablo Picasso transformed the event into an enduring visual outcry: Guernica, a monumental black-and-white painting that captured the agony of civilians crushed beneath impersonal, mechanised violence. Nearly a century later, under a different sky — that of northern Ethiopia — the weapons have changed. Drones now replace planes, and the devastation they inflict is quieter, remote-controlled, but no less lethal. Today, the war is waged by algorithms, and yet the bodies are still real.
Somalia's Al-Shabaab jihadist armed insurrection has entered its 18th year with no let-up in violence or any sign the conflict is close to a resolution. Indeed, Al-Shabaab is resurgent and remains as lethal as ever, having displayed its continued prowess after sweeping across much of central Somalia in its Ramadan offensive-- and beyond-- earlier this year. But what allows Al-Shabaab to thrive is not solely the ability to project military power or deploy intimidatory violence, but also the often under-reported, extensive and insidious rent-seeking and control of local economies as well.
"We still get men walking up to us and telling us that it's against our culture and religion to try and be men. But we are not trying to be men, you see. We are simply standing up for ourselves as women and asking to be allowed rights which already rightfully belong to us." Zainab Hassan, a Somali women's activist. In the 1970s, Somalia was widely regarded as a kind of cultural Mecca, with 'Swinging Mogadishu' at its heart. Dhaanto music provided a soundtrack to the decade in the country's modern cultural golden age, and one where women were particularly prominent. Plays, music, and art flourished privately and under the state's support, with nightclubs and bars dotted throughout the capital in which men and women mingled freely. The term 'MogaDisco' is sometimes ascribed to the eclectic mix of Somali disco, reggae, soul and funk that was popularised in these years. Tragically, much of this unique Somali cultural identity-- and women's prominent role in it-- has been expunged, a result of the perennial insecurity and hardline Salafist influence in the decades since.
On 11 June, the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) seized a strategic tri-border zone between Sudan, Libya, and Egypt, known as Jebel Uweinat. Declaring the area "liberated" from a small Sudanese army border garrison, the capture of remote Jebel Uweinat will provide the paramilitaries with further access to Libya's porous southern frontier and their ally, the Libyan commander Khalifa Haftar, as well as Sudan's northern states. Amidst this flashpoint, which will allow the RSF to continue to funnel in weapons and supplies, the broader, destructive armed conflict remains intractable, with no credible political or peace process in sight.
Strolling through Galkacyo in Puntland and Kismaayo in Jubaland in the early 1990s, it was not uncommon to see young Somalis wearing t-shirts adorned with 'Galkacyo and Kismaayo are free' or words to a similar effect. Amid the rampaging forces of General Mohamed Farrah Aidid in central Somalia, the t-shirts neatly encapsulated a sentiment of broader pan-Darood solidarity at a moment of intense political instability and armed conflict in the Hawiye-dominated centre of the country. As Mark Twain once said, 'History doesn't repeat itself, but it does often rhyme,' and the warming ties between Jubaland and Puntland over thirty years later in opposition to Mogadishu have echoes of the early days of the civil war amidst the broader strained Hawiye-Darood relations today.
To much fanfare, Oromia's regional President Shimelis Abdisa and a breakaway faction of the Oromo Liberation Army (OLA) agreed upon a 'peace deal' in early December 2024. At the time, Addis hailed the agreement as further proof of itself as a peacemaker, both nationally and for the Oromo people, no matter that fighting continued to rage across much of western and southern Oromia. But with its abysmal track record of adhering to domestic peace agreements, optimism was low that the accord marked a genuine turning point in the enduring conflict in Oromia rather than being another cynical attempt to splinter the Oromo political and armed opposition. Six months on, all evidence would suggest the latter, with the disarmament, demobilisation, and reintegration (DDR) of surrendered OLA fighters in particular having been reneged upon.
Disarmament, demobilisation, and reintegration (DDR) in Somalia has long been a politically fraught and contested process. With more guns than people and dozens of militias operating outside any formal chain of command, DDR presents one of the more pressing stabilisation challenges. While Somalia’s federal government struggles to establish a modicum of control over its own weapons and ammunition, and the international community has invested countless millions trying to disarm and demobilise Somalia’s armed factions from the top down with little success, Somaliland and Puntland demonstrate that effective demobilisation and sustainable peace are possible if they are locally driven and preceded by a political settlement.
The ongoing Ugandan-led 'Operation Silent Storm' to dislodge Al-Shabaab from three key bridge towns in Lower Shabelle represents essentially a rehash of the 'Operation Badbaado' (Salvation) campaign, conducted between 2019 and 2020. Coming after the Al-Shabaab Ramadan offensive earlier this year that routed Somali National Army (SNA) positions across Lower and Middle Shabelle, Operation Silent Storm marks the first concerted effort to dislodge the jihadists from their advanced positions toward Mogadishu. And while much has already been made of the intense fighting at Sabiid by Villa Somalia, in reality, the operations are limited in scope and appear likely to repeat the mistakes of its predecessors, even if it disrupts a route for the jihadists into Mogadishu. Re-establishing a string of bunkered Forward Operating Bases (FOBs) in Awdheegle, Bariire, and Sabiid manned by a hollowed-out and demoralised SNA will not turn the tide against Al-Shabaab.
The ongoing Ugandan-led 'Operation Silent Storm' to dislodge Al-Shabaab from three key bridge towns in Lower Shabelle represents essentially a rehash of the 'Operation Badbaado' (Salvation) campaign, conducted between 2019 and 2020. Coming after the Al-Shabaab Ramadan offensive earlier this year that routed Somali National Army (SNA) positions across Lower and Middle Shabelle, Operation Silent Storm marks the first concerted effort to dislodge the jihadists from their advanced positions toward Mogadishu. And while much has already been made of the intense fighting at Sabiid by Villa Somalia, in reality, the operations are limited in scope and appear likely to repeat the mistakes of its predecessors, even if it disrupts a route for the jihadists into Mogadishu. Re-establishing a string of bunkered Forward Operating Bases (FOBs) in Awdheegle, Bariire, and Sabiid manned by a hollowed-out and demoralised SNA will not turn the tide against Al-Shabaab.
On 28 May, Kenyan author and academic titan Professor Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o passed away in the United States at the age of 87. A fierce critic of colonialism and post-independence authoritarianism, Ngũgĩ redefined the role of literature in the fight for liberation and the broader intellectual struggle for decolonisation. Regarded as one of the greats of 20th-century African literature, his death has been mourned widely and comes at a moment when the topics he grappled with, including police brutality, corruption and state overreach, are prominent in the public eye once again.
Since the collapse of the Somali state in the 1990s, the country's private sector has played a particularly prominent role in service delivery, flourishing in the cracks left by the absence of a central government. In this space of the ungoverned economy, those providing essential utilities — such as healthcare — were assumed by businesses and economic cartels, which have reaped immense profits in turn amid the vacuum. However, in the years since, as the state-building process has gradually attempted to deliver or centralise such services, the incestuous relationships between business cartels and rent-seeking politicians have persisted. And in the meantime, the fractured and uneven nature of healthcare providers in Somalia continues to pose severe dangers to the population.
The factionalism that has defined Tigray's regional politics in recent months shows no sign of easing. With Getachew Reda having been ousted as Tigray Interim Administration (TIA) president in March, his replacement—Lt. Gen. Tadesse Werede—has inherited a hornet's nest of competing interests, with Addis and Asmara both dangerously seeking to ingratiate themselves amidst the looming threat of conflict. While the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF) has successfully re-established its monopoly on the politics of Ethiopia's northernmost region, questions regarding the return of displaced persons, the resolution of the occupation of Western Tigray, and the party's participation in future elections remain unresolved-- and intensifying.
In the early 2010s, a select group of Somalia's allies came together to form C6+, a forum to discuss how best to support the country's state-building process. Including the African Union, Kenya, Ethiopia, the US, the UK, and the EU, the platform was intended to coordinate responses and help steer Somalia's fragile political settlement towards a more devolved, consensus-oriented model after years of riven violence. Its legacy is certainly mixed, and though it has often been accused of absenteeism, members of the C6+ did eventually help steer an accommodation in 2021 amid Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo's attempts to unilaterally extend his term. And being one of the few remaining checks on the federal government, it also happens to be Villa Somalia's latest target in its campaign to dismantle any dissenting voices.