By Isha Qarsoon

Sanaag reveals the deepest distortions in Somalia’s federal experiment. What was meant to be a compromise framework for decentralization and peacebuilding has instead become a cynical contest for territorial power, camouflaged by legal language and clan entitlement. Every party claiming Sanaag—Somaliland, Puntland, SSC-Khaatumo, and the Federal Government—has selectively used the vocabulary of federalism to advance political dominance, not cooperative governance that federalism demands.

Somaliland, though it rejects Somalia’s federal system outright, mimics its worst instincts. Its claim over Sanaag is based not on shared governance or public consent, but on colonial-era borders inherited from British Somaliland. These boundaries are wielded not to build trust or manage diversity, but to assert an exclusivist nationalism that equates territorial control with legitimacy. Even within Sanaag, Somaliland rules selectively—engaging clans that support its cause while militarizing those that don’t. In recent years, Somaliland escalated its military campaign in the contested areas of Sanaag and Sool, displacing tens of thousands of civilians. The integration of clan-based militias into its national forces only deepened the impression that Somaliland’s governance model rests on coercion rather than consent. There is no real attempt at plural governance or local autonomy—only a maximalist pursuit of territory, justified by grievance rather than principle.

Puntland is no less complicit. Though it presents itself as a model federal member state, its interpretation of federalism is filtered through a clan lens. Its claim to eastern Sanaag is rooted in the Harti lineage of the population, not in any functioning intergovernmental arrangement or shared administrative structures. When its authority is challenged, Puntland does not turn to negotiation or inclusive governance but to military reinforcement and administrative replication. Its behavior in Sanaag mirrors that of Somaliland: power projection disguised as constitutional order. Even its celebrated institutions often reinforce clan dominance rather than democratic federalism. Federalism becomes less a structure for resolving disputes and more a platform for advancing exclusivist claims.

SSC-Khaatumo emerged in this contested landscape as a voice of resistance, claiming to represent the Dhulbahante and Warsangeli communities who rejected both Somaliland’s secessionism and Puntland’s dominance. Initially, it offered a hopeful alternative—one that embraced federalism as a path to inclusion within the Somali republic. But like those it opposed, SSC-Khaatumo’s approach quickly hardened into territorial entitlement. Its interim recognition by the Federal Government in 2023, followed by full recognition as a federal member state earlier this year, was celebrated by many as a victory for local autonomy. Yet those decisions were not preceded by a national consultation or a negotiated constitutional process. SSC’s legitimacy increasingly hinges on clan identity, victimhood narratives, and alignment with federal patronage. Clashes with Somaliland forces in places like Jiidali and Erigavo in early 2025, far from demonstrating federal strength, revealed that SSC, too, was prepared to claim and defend territory by force rather than build inclusive institutions. The rhetoric of federalism remained; the practice did not.

The Federal Government, entrusted with upholding national unity and guiding the federal process, has played an equally destabilizing role. It should have been an honest broker in Sanaag, facilitating cooperation and safeguarding constitutional order. Instead, it has operated as a political player. Its interim recognition of SSC-Khaatumo in 2023 and full endorsement in 2025 were not the result of transparent public engagement. They were tactical moves to weaken Puntland’s influence, challenge Somaliland’s authority, and shift allegiances in a fractured federation. Recently, federal officials started traveling to Lasanod for high-profile meetings to further entrench SSC’s status and prepare it for upcoming federal elections. But this wasn’t federalism in action—it was power politics wrapped in legal formality. By rewarding loyalty and punishing rivals through selective recognition, the Federal Government has deepened fragmentation under the pretense of unity.

What ties all these actors together is their shared misuse of federalism as a tool for zero-sum competition. Each invokes federal principles when it suits their aims, then abandons them in practice. Rather than creating partnerships between federal and regional governments, or cooperation across contested territories, they treat federalism as a license to draw borders, raise flags, and stake exclusive claims. The people of Sanaag are not treated as citizens with rights and agency. They are seen as resources to be counted, controlled, or coerced—tokens in a broader political game.

The result is a region locked in political limbo. Competing administrations claim legitimacy. None exercises full control. Public services are fragmented or absent. Security is precarious. Civic space is suppressed by the logic of clan rivalry and patron-state competition. There is no functioning federal framework in Sanaag—only a patchwork of authority that shifts with alliances, firepower, and external endorsements. Federalism was meant to offer a bridge between clan identity and national belonging. In Sanaag, it has become the field on which both are torn apart.

To speak of federalism in Sanaag today is to speak of its undoing. What exists is not shared governance but layered claims to sovereignty, justified by selective history, expedient alliances, and manipulated grievances. The federal government wields recognition as a political tool. Puntland stretches clan geography into constitutional entitlement. Somaliland denies federalism while embodying its most coercive impulses. SSC, born of rejection, now risks reproducing the very exclusion it rose to challenge.

If Somalia’s federalism is to endure—if it is to stand for something more than managed fragmentation—it must be rescued from those who abuse it. That rescue begins with truth-telling: about how federalism has been stripped of meaning, and how each actor in Sanaag has used it not to govern together, but to divide and dominate. Until that reckoning takes place, Sanaag will remain a fractured territory. And Somalia will continue to confuse federalism with the failure to govern.

sha Qarsoon
Email:  ishaqarsoon1@gmail.com
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