By Dayib Sh Ahmed

I was truly surprised and deeply troubled. What is wrong with Somalis? It seems we have learned nothing from what we have gone through. We keep repeating the same failures we experienced before, yet we still expect success. As the famous saying goes, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

One of my friends sent me a picture this week. In it, I saw men I recognize all too well in Somali politics, figures whose records are defined not by success, but by repeated failure coming together to form yet another political party. Among them was Fahad Yasin, a man many Somalis came to view as the real power and political spoiler within the government during the era of Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo.

WardheerNews sarcastically named Fahad Yasin its Person of the Year in 2017, citing his outsized influence over President Farmaajo’s administration, stating that Fahad “is considered by many as the most powerful non-elected official in Somalia for the past 10 years. Fahad has been the mastermind behind most of the recurring political setbacks of the new regime and the turmoil that has arisen between regional states and the federal governments.  Fahad waged a political campaign to remove some regional presidents and other political figures from office, by using illicit Qatari funds”

Frankly, I never thought Fahad Yasin would return to Somali politics. And yet, here we are once again confronting the same faces, the same patterns, and the same dangerous illusions. The damage Fahad Yasin has inflicted on Somalia is so enormous and wide-ranging that it is hard to fully grasp.

Now, let me be clear do I know decent politicians in Somalia? Yes, I do. but they don’t have power, Do I believe there are honorable and capable individuals within these political circles, absolutely, particularly those that are now building the Haybad Qaran Association. And do I personally know individuals who embody integrity and public service? Yes I do. One example is Farah Ali Shire, the former Minister of Finance of Puntland, and one of the most decent and principled politicians. But that is precisely what makes this moment so frustrating.

Because the presence of a few decent individuals does not redeem a political project dominated by figures whose track records are deeply troubling. Good men cannot sanitize a system built on failure, nor can integrity survive in an environment where accountability is absent and the same destructive patterns continue to repeat themselves.

Nevertheless, Fahad Yasin’s past cynical political play runs the gamut from the corrosion of national security institutions to the distortion of democratic processes, from the manipulation of intelligence services to the silencing of political opposition, and from the erosion of public trust to the normalization of fear as a political tool. Institutions that were meant to protect the Somali people were transformed into instruments of control, intimidation, and personal power. In a fragile state like Somalia where institutions are already weak and trust is scarce this kind of abuse is not just dangerous; it is catastrophic.

To understand the depth of this damage, one must examine the defining pattern of his time in power: the systematic concentration and personalization of authority.

During the Farmaajo administration, Fahad Yasin was not merely operating within the system he became the system itself. As Chief of Staff at the Presidential Palace, later National Security Advisor, and ultimately Director of the National Intelligence and Security Agency (NISA), he accumulated unprecedented influence over Somalia’s security architecture. This was not institutional strengthening it was institutional capture. Instead of building a professional, accountable, and rules-based security apparatus, authority was steadily centralized in ways that hollowed out the very foundations of the state.

Reports, testimonies, and widespread public perception all point to a deeply troubling reality: Somalia’s intelligence and security institutions were increasingly politicized, weaponized, and stripped of their professional independence. Rather than serving as neutral protectors of national security, they were often perceived as instruments of political control. Instead of safeguarding citizens, these institutions were used to suppress dissent, intimidate journalists, silence political opposition, and influence political outcomes. The line between national security and political survival gradually disappeared, replaced by a system in which loyalty outweighed legality, and fear replaced accountability. In such an environment, institutions cease to function as state structures in the true sense. They become extensions of individual power tools through which political competition is managed, rather than democratic processes being respected. Over time, this weakens not only governance but also public trust in the very idea of the state.

It doesn’t stop there.

Allegations surrounding Fahad Yasin extend far beyond political misconduct. They reach into some of the darkest and most painful chapters of Somalia’s recent history claims of complicity, whether direct or indirect, in acts of violence that devastated communities in cities such as Mogadishu and Beledweyne. These are not abstract accusations debated in elite circles, they are tied to real human suffering lives lost, families shattered, and communities left traumatized. Beledweyne, a city he claimed to represent, stands as a tragic symbol of contradiction. Instead of protection, it endured repeated attacks. Instead of leadership, it experienced neglect. Instead of security, it lived under constant fear. The gap between responsibility and reality is not just wide it is morally indefensible.

Former Minister of Education Abdirahman Aw-Dahir replied to my inquiry about the case by email and said this It revealed a system where power was exercised not with accountability, but with impunity. Positions of national responsibility became tools of political engineering, where loyalty was rewarded, dissent punished, and institutions repurposed to serve narrow interests. In such an environment, institutions do not simply weaken; they decay from within.

Abdirahman continued, saying, the story of Fahad Yasin is a cautionary lesson that shows how power, when misused, can lead to destruction rather than progress. His removal from Parliament stands as a symbolic victory for accountability against those who abuse public responsibility. Although the wounds from his time in office still remain, many Somalis see the humiliation he faced as proof that abuse of power and corruption can never ultimately prevail.

And yet, despite this immense and seemingly untouchable power, Fahad Yasin’s fall was as dramatic as his rise. His removal from the parliamentary candidate list was not merely a political event—it was widely seen by Somalis as a moment of reckoning. Across social media and public discourse, there was no sympathy, only a sense of closure even relief. The phrase often repeated “Whoever does evil will eventually face it himself” captured a deeply rooted collective belief that justice, however delayed, cannot be escaped. For many, this was not simply politics; it was moral accountability finally catching up with power.

Yet this moment of perceived justice did not emerge in isolation. It must be understood within the broader context of deeply troubling events that defined that era—events that continue to haunt the national conscience.

Foremost among them is the mysterious death of Ikran Tahlil Farah, a young officer of the National Intelligence and Security Agency (NISA). Her disappearance and subsequent death shocked the nation, raising profound and still unanswered questions about accountability within the very institutions entrusted with protecting citizens. To this day, her case stands as a symbol of unresolved injustice and institutional failure.

At the same time, a series of alarming incidents further intensified public concern about the abuse of state power. Current president Hassan Sheikh Mohamud and former President Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed were prevented from departing Aden Adde International Airport to Beledweyne—an act widely perceived as a politically motivated restriction targeting opposition figures. Such actions did not merely disrupt political activity, they signaled a dangerous erosion of Government norms and freedoms.

Moreover, disturbing claims circulated at the time suggesting attempts to obstruct or even endanger flights, including allegations that aircraft could have been deliberately put at risk by denying them adequate fuel. If true, such actions would not only constitute political misconduct but represent a reckless and potentially catastrophic abuse of power—one that crosses the line from political manipulation into outright endangerment of human life.

Meanwhile, in Beledweyne, the assassination of Aamina Mohamed Abdi, a respected member of the Somali Federal Parliament, sent shockwaves across the country. She was killed in a brutal bombing that claimed innocent lives, deepening national grief and reinforcing the pervasive sense of insecurity. Her death was not just a personal tragedy, it was a stark reminder of the vulnerability of public servants and the fragility of Somalia’s political environment.

In all of these cases, suspicions and allegations have repeatedly been directed toward Fahad Yasin. Many Somalis believe he may have played a role directly or indirectly in these events. While these allegations remain serious and contested, their persistence has profoundly shaped public perception and continues to fuel urgent demands for transparency, accountability, and justice.

Furthermore, as former Minister of Education Abdirahman Aw-Dahir noted in response to my inquiry, these incidents were not isolated anomalies but reflections of a broader governing pattern. He described a system in which power was exercised with impunity rather than accountability—where positions of national responsibility were transformed into instruments of political control, loyalty was rewarded, dissent was punished, and institutions were manipulated to serve narrow interests rather than the public good.

Taken together, these events reveal more than individual failures—they expose a deeper structural crisis. They illustrate how the abuse of power, when left unchecked, can hollow out institutions, erode public trust, and leave lasting scars on a nation struggling to rebuild itself.

But Somalia’s tragedy is not about one man alone.

It is about a political culture that recycles failure, rehabilitates figures without accountability, and mistakes familiarity for legitimacy. It is about a system where individuals associated with controversy and failure can simply rebrand themselves and return to power as if nothing happened. This is not resilience it is political amnesia.

Fahad Yasin’s past, including his association with and Al-Itihad Al-Islami and late Al-shabaab and his early ideological affiliations, is not merely historical detail. It is part of a broader trajectory that raises serious questions about judgment, allegiance, and the long-term consequences of empowering such figures. His rise was not accidental it was facilitated by networks of influence foreign intelligences and their interests and patronage, and political opportunism. And those same forces are now attempting to bring him back.

Somalia today stands at a crossroads but it is a crossroads it has seen before, many times. Each time, there is hope for change, reform, and a break from the past. And each time, the same patterns re-emerge: the same actors, the same strategies, the same failures. It is a cycle sustained by forgetfulness and protected by the absence of accountability.

A nation that does not remember its past is condemned to repeat it. A political system that refuses to enforce accountability invites the return of the very forces that weakened it. And a society that tolerates recycled leadership risks becoming permanently trapped in a cycle of hope followed by inevitable disappointment.

The issue is not simply Fahad Yasin as an individual. The issue is what his return represents, a refusal to learn, a resistance to reform, and a dangerous normalization of impunity. It sends a message to future spoiler that actions have no consequences, that power can be abused without cost, and that accountability is optional. Somalis deserve better than recycled power brokers and shadowy politics. They deserve institutions that serve the people not individuals. They deserve leaders who are accountable, transparent, and committed to the national interest. They deserve a future not held hostage by the failures of the past.

Until that happens, Somalia will remain a nation without direction drifting, repeating, and suffering. And the tragic reality is this, the Somali people are like passengers on a ship trapped, powerless while the vessel itself is captained by fools, steering again and again into the same storm.

Dayib Sh. Ahmed
Email: Dayib0658@gmail.com
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Dayib is a writer, political analyst and WardheerNews contributor