By Abdikarim Buh

There is an old Somali story about a man who confidently claimed that he would never lose a case before a traditional court. When people asked how he could be so certain, his answer was simple: before taking another person to court, he first put himself on trial. He would examine his own conduct and ask whether he was right or wrong. If his conscience told him that he was at fault, he would abandon the case rather than accuse another person unjustly.

That simple story contains a profound lesson for Somalia today: Before pointing a finger at others, we must have the courage to look at ourselves. For decades, Somalis have debated the causes of political instability, institutional weakness, insecurity and economic hardship. We frequently identify foreign interference, neighbouring governments, international powers or rival political actors as the source of our problems.

Sometimes those accusations are justified. External actors do pursue their own interests, and foreign decisions can have serious consequences for Somalia. But there is another question we ask far less often: What part of Somalia’s problems have we created ourselves? That is the question this generation must confront.

The First Court Is Our Own Conscience

The wisdom of the Somali story can be turned into a practical method for dealing with almost any dispute. Before blaming another person, government or institution, we should ask four questions:

What actually happened? Facts must come before accusations. Rumours, assumptions and political emotions cannot substitute for evidence. What was my contribution to the problem? This is the most difficult question because it requires us to acknowledge our own mistakes. What was beyond my control?

Self-examination does not mean accepting responsibility for everything. It means distinguishing between what we caused, what we influenced and what was imposed upon us. What must I change to prevent the problem from happening again?

That final question transforms self-criticism into responsibility. These principles are not merely useful in private disputes. They apply equally to political leadership, public administration, education, business and national affairs.

Somali society possesses an extraordinary tradition of wisdom expressed through proverbs, poetry, storytelling and customary law. Our ancestors developed mechanisms for resolving disputes, restoring relationships and reminding individuals of their obligations to the wider community.

The tragedy is that we sometimes celebrate this heritage without applying its lessons. A society that possesses wisdom but refuses to practice it cannot expect wisdom to rescue it.

The Politics of Blaming Foreigners

Few habits have become more familiar in Somali political discourse than blaming outsiders. Whenever Somalia experiences a political crisis, there is often an immediate search for an external sponsor. One country is accused of supporting one faction. Another is blamed for interfering in elections. Foreign governments are accused of manipulating political leaders or pursuing hidden agendas. Some of these claims may be true.

International politics is not driven by charity. Every government protects what it considers its national interests. Countries cooperate when their interests coincide and compete when they diverge.  Somalia should therefore approach foreign policy with realism rather than illusion.

The responsibility of Somali leaders is not simply to complain when foreign governments pursue their own interests. It is to understand those interests, negotiate intelligently, protect Somalia’s priorities, strengthen national institutions and reduce the internal weaknesses that make external influence easier. This leads to a harder question.

If foreign governments can influence Somalia so easily, what conditions inside Somalia make that influence possible? Are our institutions strong enough? Do our political leaders share even a basic understanding of the national interest? Are disagreements resolved through institutions and agreed rules? Do political agreements survive changes in leadership? Do we have a national strategy that is stronger than individual political ambitions?

These questions are far more productive than endlessly asking who is interfering in Somalia. Recognizing foreign interference is realism. Refusing to examine our own weaknesses is self-deception.

Somalia’s Political Crisis Is Also a Crisis of Accountability

The country’s political disputes provide perhaps the clearest test of this principle. Somalia’s Provisional Federal Constitution, adopted in 2012 after years of political negotiations, established a framework for governance and relations between the federal government and federal member states. But a constitution cannot protect a country simply because it is written on paper.

It must be respected by political leaders, implemented by institutions and interpreted through legitimate procedures. Where constitutional questions remain unresolved, the answer should be negotiation and lawful clarification—not selective interpretation based on political convenience.

Somalia has repeatedly struggled with disputes over elections, political mandates, federal authority and constitutional interpretation. Political actors frequently accuse one another of violating agreements or undermining the national interest. Others blame foreign governments for creating or prolonging the deadlock. But every political crisis should begin with a more uncomfortable examination:

Did we honour the agreements we signed? Did we respect the rules when those rules worked against our interests? Were we prepared to compromise? Did we consult those affected by our decisions? Did we put the country’s long-term interests ahead of short-term political advantage?

These questions must apply to everyone. No political leader, party, federal institution or regional administration should be able to treat constitutional rules as binding only when they are convenient. Likewise, political agreements cannot be respected selectively.

A country cannot build institutions if its political leaders regard rules as optional.

Self-Criticism Is Not Self-Blame

There is an important distinction between accepting responsibility and accepting blame for everything. Somalia has genuinely faced external interference, regional rivalries, security threats, economic pressures and historical injustices.

Acknowledging those realities does not require us to deny our own failures. Indeed, the opposite is true. A mature nation should be capable of saying both: “Others have contributed to our problems.” And: “We must take responsibility for the choices we ourselves have made.” That is not weakness. It is political maturity.

The strongest societies are not those that never make mistakes. They are those capable of recognizing mistakes, correcting them and learning from them.

The Lesson Must Begin with the Next Generation

Perhaps the most lasting solution lies in education. If Somalia wants a future generation capable of building accountable institutions, peaceful politics and a functioning state, children must learn more than examination skills and professional qualifications.

They must also learn responsibility. A child should be taught to ask: What happened? What was my role? Did I act fairly? What could I have done differently? How can I correct my mistake? Such questions teach children that admitting an error is not humiliation.  It is a form of strength.

They learn to distinguish criticism from personal attack, disagreement from hostility and accountability from punishment. Those habits, developed early, eventually become the foundations of responsible citizenship.

The Somali Story Still Has Something to Teach Us

The man in the old Somali story understood something that modern politics often forgets. Before demanding justice from others, we must first be willing to apply the same standard to ourselves.

Somalia does not need leaders who are incapable of admitting mistakes. It does not need citizens who automatically believe every failure is somebody else’s fault. And it does not need a political culture in which every crisis begins with an accusation and ends without accountability.

It needs something much harder: honesty before accusation, evidence before judgment, responsibility before blame and reconciliation before revenge. Our ancestors left us the wisdom. The challenge is whether we have the courage to practice it. Before Somalia asks who is responsible for its problems, perhaps the first question should be the one that old Somali wisdom has been asking for generations: “What is my responsibility?”

Abdikarim H. Abdi Buh
Email: abdikarimshak@gmail.com