By Abdiqani Haji Abdi

In a move that has drawn sharp skepticism and renewed public outrage, President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud has appointed General Hassan Mohamed Hussein Muungaab as the new Mayor of Mogadishu and Governor of the Banadir region. This controversial decision comes just months after the abrupt removal of Mohamed Ahmed Amir, whose tenure left little impact and more questions than answers.

President Hassan cited Muungaab’s legal and administrative credentials and his previous stint as mayor from 2014 to 2015. But for many residents of the capital, this reappointment is not a symbol of stability or experience—it’s a clear signal of a deepening culture of impunity and recycled corruption in the highest ranks of Somali leadership.

During his previous tenure as mayor, Muungaab built a reputation not for reform or progress, but for being a gatekeeper of graft. Officials familiar with his leadership recall that every development project came with a personal cost—one that had to be paid to Muungaab himself. “What’s in it for me?” was allegedly his guiding principle. Without his cut, it was well known among insiders that no project—no matter how beneficial to the public—would move forward. This kind of transactional governance strangled initiatives meant to improve basic services, infrastructure, and livelihoods in a city long battered by conflict and mismanagement.

Muungaab, a trained lawyer with a background in public administration, quickly transitioned from civil servant to real estate mogul during his time in office. His name became synonymous with the controversial sale of public land in Mogadishu, especially in the heavily militarized airport security zone. Multiple reports and whistleblower accounts have tied him to a string of high-rise developments in the area, properties that stand in stark contrast to the impoverished neighborhoods they overlook.

Now, with his reappointment, critics say Muungaab is poised to resume where he left off—with even fewer checks on his power. “This isn’t about Muungaab’s competence or reform credentials,” said a political analyst in Mogadishu. “It’s about putting a loyalist with a known appetite for public land back in a position where he can serve both himself and the interests of the presidency.”

That presidency, under Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, is itself under immense strain. Internally, the president faces backlash from opposition leaders and federal member states for unilaterally pushing a new electoral framework that many see as unconstitutional and self-serving. Externally, key international partners—including the United States—have voiced concern that his heavy-handed tactics are undermining Somalia’s fragile gains in security, governance, and counterterrorism.

The U.S. State Department, in particular, has expressed frustration over President Hassan’s unwillingness to consult key stakeholders. Washington believes the president’s confrontational approach is stalling progress in the fight against al-Shabaab and exacerbating divisions at a time when unity is essential.

Against this backdrop, Muungaab’s appointment appears as a strategic ploy to project outreach and moderation. Once a critic of the administration, Muungaab previously issued statements condemning the misuse of public land and military overreach. He notably warned in 2023 that the $600 million Mogadishu Development Corporation—a massive plan to expand the capital’s airport and seaport—was a front for land grabbing in the city’s north. But few believe these statements were rooted in principle. Most observers argue that Muungaab’s opposition was circumstantial—driven more by exclusion from power than genuine dissent.

Last year, Muungaab also congratulated Jubaland President Ahmed Madobe on his re-election and publicly called on other federal member states to hold timely, transparent elections. He went so far as to condemn the federal army’s incursion into Ras Kiamboni in Jubaland, blaming President Hassan directly for the fallout. These statements, while bold at the time, now ring hollow. His swift return to the president’s inner circle has exposed a well-worn cycle in Somali politics: when out of office, politicians rail against the system; when brought back in, they toe the line.

Muungaab’s political U-turn is striking but not surprising. It mirrors that of Mustafa Dhuhulow, another former critic of President Hassan’s alleged corrupt practices. Once appointed as Director of the Immigration Agency, Dhuhulow quickly reversed course and became one of the administration’s most loyal and darling defenders. The pattern is clear: dissent is often a performance until the right offer comes along.

Analysts believe Muungaab’s reappointment is intended to neutralize opposition elements coalescing in Mogadishu under the banner of the National Salvation Council II. This new coalition is a revival of the original National Salvation Council, which was ironically spearheaded by Hassan Sheikh himself during his resistance to former President Farmaajo’s term extension efforts. Now, Hassan finds himself in the same position he once opposed, and he is adopting the same tactics he once condemned.

By appointing Muungaab, the president appears to be reaching out to former allies of the original Salvation Council, perhaps hoping to fragment the new opposition or dilute its momentum. Whether Muungaab serves as a conduit for dialogue or a Trojan horse remains to be seen.

What is certain, however, is that his return to power does not bode well for good governance in Mogadishu. The city remains plagued by insecurity, poor infrastructure, and public distrust. Reinstalling a figure associated with corruption and self-dealing sends a grim message to citizens: that loyalty and pliability are valued more than integrity or competence.

Civil society organizations have already voiced their concern. “We need leadership that’s committed to serving the public, not looting its resources,” said one Mogadishu-based activist. “Bringing back Muungaab shows the administration is moving in the wrong direction.”

For President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, the gamble is a high-stakes one. With international donors watching closely and domestic unrest simmering, the reappointment of discredited figures may buy short-term political cover but will erode long-term credibility. The streets of Mogadishu do not forget easily, and the citizens—though often voiceless—know the difference between reform and recycling.

In the end, Muungaab’s comeback may prove more costly than beneficial, a symbol not of political outreach but of a system unable—or unwilling—to change.

Abdiqani Haji Abdi
Email: Hajiabdi0128@gmail.com