By Isha Qarsoon
In the lead-up to presidential elections, Somalia’s political opposition grows louder and more visible. They gather in Mogadishu or Nairobi, beating the drums of dissent. They speak the language of legality, federalism, democracy, and reform. But if you strip away the rhetoric and examine its actions, a different picture emerges: one not grounded in constitutionalism or institutional integrity, but in the pursuit of power. The Somali political class, including those in opposition, is animated more by the desire to gain access to the state than by any coherent vision of rule of law, separation of powers, or fidelity to the Provisional Constitution. This is a hard truth to say out loud, but an essential one. If Somalia is ever to emerge from its cycle of elite negotiations, stolen mandates, and symbolic governance, it must begin with an honest diagnosis. The opposition is not fundamentally different from those it opposes. What is marketed as a principled defense of the Constitution is too often little more than opportunistic resistance to exclusion. Until Somali politics is restructured around principles, rather than personalities or patronage, the dream of constitutional governance will remain unfulfilled.
At the heart of Somali political discourse lies a paradox. Both the government and the opposition parade the Provisional Constitution of 2012 as an anchor of legitimacy, but it is almost never implemented faithfully. It is referenced when convenient, ignored when it constrains. For opposition figures, invoking the Constitution signals alignment with international expectations of rule of law. But rarely is the document engaged with substantively. Regional opposition actors frequently denounce “unconstitutional interference” by the federal government and decry the use of the National Consultative Council (NCC) as a parallel structure. Yet they do not push for the very mechanisms the Constitution provides to resolve such disputes. Article 109A mandates a Judicial Service Commission. Article 109B calls for the formation of a Constitutional Court. Article 111E envisions a formal framework for intergovernmental relations. None of these are functioning, and the opposition shows no appetite to bring them to life.
These omissions are not accidental. They reflect a tactical use of constitutional language without a commitment to its institutional implications. The very architecture of legal accountability in Somalia, including its courts, commissions, and procedures, remains incomplete. There is no serious call from the opposition to finalize the Constitution—a process that would require confronting difficult issues such as the design of federalism and the distribution of power both among levels of government and within the federal system itself. Ambiguity, for many in the opposition, is politically useful. It allows flexibility and shields them from accountability. Finalization would constrain future maneuvering and close loopholes now exploited by all sides.
Nowhere is this selectivity more evident than in the opposition’s invocation of federalism. Federalism, the foundational compromise of the post-1991 order, is often cited but rarely defended as a legal structure. It is used more often as a bargaining position; a shield for regional fiefdoms or a tool to resist federal oversight. When out of power, opposition figures accuse the federal government of eroding federalism. These criticisms, though often justified, are rarely principled. They often focus more on the outcome than on the legality of the process. Once in office, these same actors centralize power just as aggressively as their predecessors. Their behavior reveals a pattern: federalism is not upheld for its constitutional value, but deployed to resist political exclusion.
Almost never do these figures advocate for the operationalization of Article 111E or articulate a clear proposal for legislative harmonization between levels of government. Article 54, which outlines the vertical distribution of powers, remains undefined because no one in the political class, including the opposition, wants to settle the matter definitively. Vagueness keeps options open. Federalism, instead of being a governance model grounded in cooperation and clarity, becomes a fluid talking point—deployed when useful, ignored when not. It is invoked to defend entrenchment, not to build institutions.
Elections offer another lens through which to view the shallowness of the opposition’s constitutional commitment. Every cycle is marked by allegations of illegality and manipulation, but rarely are these claims backed by robust constitutional arguments or strategic legal challenges. Consider the 2023 electoral law, passed under the umbrella of the NCC. It violates several core provisions of the Provisional Constitution, including the founding principle of Article 3. Article 47 calls for a parliamentary-led process to design the electoral framework, including the structure of constituencies. Together with Article 111G, which creates an independent electoral commission responsible for federal elections and not regional or local ones, the Constitution points to a clear and fair division of responsibilities. It leaves the design of regional and local elections to the states, while expecting the federal parliament to create an inclusive electoral system for national elections—one that respects the logic of federalism and earns public trust. None of these avenues were pursued. Instead, the opposition condemned the law based on the identity of its proponent—President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud—and not the unconstitutional substance of the law itself.
There was no constitutional challenge filed. There was no organized advocacy for an independent federal electoral commission or for the establishment of a transparent, verifiable voter registry. There was no demand for Parliament to reclaim its constitutional mandate over federal elections, nor for the federal government to respect the states’ role in managing their own electoral processes within a framework that ensures voting integrity, fairness, and individual rights. The opposition’s legal vocabulary was reduced to a refrain: HSM did it. Had the same scheme been advanced by one of their own, it is unlikely they would have objected. This exposes a dangerous norm: elections are not treated as mechanisms of public accountability but as elite contests over state access. Their legitimacy hinges not on legality but on outcomes.
A principled opposition would center its agenda around the activation of Somalia’s dormant constitutional institutions. It would demand the establishment of the Constitutional Court, the Judicial Service Commission, the Human Rights Commission under Article 41, and a functioning Audit Office under Article 114. It would make due process rights, such as those enshrined in Articles 33 to 35, a core political demand. It would protest the ongoing impunity with which NISA operates, detaining individuals without charge, surveilling political opponents, and functioning beyond the reach of the courts. It would have pointed out that Article 111G of the Provisional Constitution calls for the establishment of a ‘National Independent Electoral Commission,’ whose specific powers include to “conduct of presidential [and] Federal Parliament elections”—not local or regional elections across the country.
Instead, Somalia’s opposition mirrors the government’s disregard for institutional development. The absence of an independent judiciary is not a technical failure—it is strategic. With no courts to oversee government action, and no civil society movement strong enough to litigate rights violations, there are no consequences for bypassing the Constitution. The Constitution is unfeared, and thus unheeded. The failure to build institutions is not a matter of capacity or time. It is a matter of political convenience. These bodies are politically inconvenient because their existence would reduce flexibility, impose procedural discipline, and introduce transparency. So they are quietly ignored.
The culture that sustains this behavior is one of elite rotation, not reform. Today’s opposition is tomorrow’s government. The actors remain the same; only the office changes. In this ecosystem, no one has the long-term incentive to build enduring institutions. Power is seen as fleeting and must be used for immediate benefit. That perception drives short-termism, fuels corruption, and entrenches impunity.
Opposition coalitions are rarely formed around shared programs or ideologies. They are alliances of mutual interest, often based on clan arithmetic or opportunistic calculation. Reformers quickly become spoilers once they lose out. Those who advocate for accountability often have little record of practicing it. The same actors who decry centralization were, not long ago, consolidating power themselves. That institutional amnesia corrodes credibility. It also discourages the emergence of new leadership grounded in principle.
Some of these opposition figures are experienced, somewhat educated, but well connected. Most do not understand governance or constitutional structure. Some may understand what a functioning system would require: independent institutions, legal predictability, and a clear separation of powers. But they also know that in the current environment, what matters is maneuvering—not merit. What pays is flexibility; not fidelity to law. And so they play the game, hoping for another turn at the top.
If Somalia is to break out of this cycle, it will not be through elite pacts or recycled leadership. It must come from below—from a civic movement rooted in the Constitution not as a slogan, but as a living structure of governance. This movement must reassert the supremacy of the Constitution by demanding the establishment of the Constitutional Court and judicial review. It must reject the normalization of elite pacts that bypass Parliament and refuse to treat extra-constitutional structures like the NCC as permanent fixtures.
Civil society, bar associations, universities, women’s groups, youth coalitions, and regional governments must build a civic front that both educates and agitates. They must push Parliament to pass legislation enabling Articles 109A, 111A, among others. They must push operationalization of Article 54. They must file strategic litigation and conduct public legal reviews. They must produce shadow reports, propose implementation frameworks, and insist that appointments to public office reflect merit—not clan. Civic groups must fill the accountability vacuum left by the political class.
This will be resisted. Entrenched elites will ridicule or suppress these efforts. But change will not come from those currently in office or aspiring to replace them. It will come from a shift in political consciousness—a civic demand for lawful governance, for systems that are predictable and fair, and for leadership that respects the Constitution not because it is fashionable, but because it is foundational.
Somalia’s opposition speaks the language of principle but practices the politics of power. It invokes the Constitution but does not defend it. It champions federalism but does not practice it. It decries electoral theft but offers no alternative grounded in legality. It ignores institutions, undermines processes, and prepares for its next turn in the game. True constitutionalism is not about winning office. It is about building systems that outlast any one leader or party. Until Somali political actors, especially those in opposition, begin to fight for institutions rather than outcomes, for structures rather than slogans, they will continue to disappoint those who believe in the promise of rule of law.
The time has come to call this out. Not to condemn, but to correct. Not to alienate, but to awaken. Somalia does not lack for documents. It lacks fidelity to them. And unless that changes, the Constitution will remain what it is now: unread, unenforced, unfeared, and, ultimately, unloved.
Isha Qarsoon
Email: Ishaqarsoon1@gmail.com
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Isha Qarsoon- is a platform dedicated to addressing critical issues pertaining to good governance, corruption, and social challenges. It emphasizes investigative journalism as a means to uncover and disseminate information, enabling the public to engage with and understand the realities of the country. Through its focus on transparency and accountability, the forum aims to foster informed public discourse and contribute to societal awareness and reform.
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