By Abdisaid M. Ali

Somalia is in free fall. Not because it lacks talent or will, but because the very top of the state has abandoned leadership for control, substance for slogans, and governance for survival. President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud returned to office three years ago promising a “second chance” to fix what went wrong his first time. What followed was not a correction—it was a deeper descent.

The institutions that should hold the country together—its army, judiciary, civil service, and federal system—have been gutted. The Somali National Army (SNA), once seen as the backbone of the state’s recovery, has been dismantled not by enemies but by internal sabotage. Command structures were politicized, frontline forces underpaid, and entire units demoralized. When Al-Shabaab overran the SNA base in Cowsweyne in August 2023, it wasn’t just a tactical defeat—it was a deep psychological shift and a symbol of state collapse. The President was in Dhusamareb at the time, fled to Mogadishu, and, within days, unveiled a constitutional reform campaign to divert attention from the blood spilled on his watch. MPs were corralled into this process with promises, threats, and bribes—anything to avoid accountability for the loss of hundreds of soldiers.

Months later, the same scenario repeated in Masjid Ali Gaduud. Another base, another massacre, another retreat. Again, President Hassan fled—this time from Adale—only to surface the next day in Ankara, shaking hands with foreign leaders while his own soldiers lay in unmarked graves. These are not isolated failures; they are the natural result of a government that treats its military not as a national institution but as a tool of political theatre.

But the military is only one casualty. Corruption has become the defining character of President Hassan’s administration. Public offices have been converted into private estates. International support is siphoned off through a maze of unaccountable intermediaries. Positions are handed to family members and loyalists without public vetting or process. The President’s own children are appointed to sensitive advisory roles, bypassing not only protocol but the very idea of public trust. It’s nepotism as statecraft, where competence is irrelevant as long as loyalty is guaranteed.

Even the political alliances that helped bring President Hassan to power have been betrayed. Federal Member State leaders who once stood with him are now sidelined, silenced, or openly targeted. What began as a promise of inclusive federalism has morphed into a unilateral consolidation of power. The National Consultative Council, once a hopeful platform for dialogue, has become a rubber stamp for Villa Somalia’s agenda. The idea of genuine federal dialogue has been suffocated under the weight of manufactured consensus.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the so-called “electoral reforms.” The government touts its one-person-one-vote campaign as a democratic milestone. In reality, it is neither one-person nor one-vote in any meaningful sense. The process remains trapped in the same 4.5 clan-based power-sharing model that has crippled Somali politics for decades. Citizens still cannot freely stand for office or vote across clan lines. It is not universal suffrage—it is electoral manipulation designed to engineer the outcome of the 2026 presidential and parliamentary elections in favor of the incumbent regime.

The provisional constitution, instead of being a path toward national consensus, is now being weaponized as a political instrument. Reform is no longer about solving structural dysfunction—it’s about securing an electoral advantage, rewriting the rules to entrench power, and keeping opponents off balance. Meanwhile, the public is kept distracted with media campaigns, ceremonial meetings, and recycled slogans.

But the truth is harder to bury: Somalia is a deeply divided society. These divisions are not just political—they are historical, social, and existential. They will not be resolved through decrees or constitutional gimmicks. They require real leadership—leadership that listens, reconciles, and reforms. Leadership that is honest about the fragility of the state and bold enough to put the national interest above political survival.

That kind of leadership is absent today. What we have instead is an administration that governs through denial. Every crisis is blamed on someone else. Every criticism is labeled foreign-inspired. Every failure is met with distraction. But the Somali people see through it. They know the difference between a government that governs and one that merely occupies.

The way forward must begin with political courage. Somalia needs a real plan for the 2026 elections—one that people can trust. That means a process that’s clear, fair, and open to everyone, not just a few insiders. It has to move beyond political games and deliver an election where every citizen can take part, where rules aren’t bent to suit those in power, and where the outcome reflects the will of the people—not a pre-written script. Without that, Somalia risks repeating the same old cycle. It cannot be dictated from Villa Somalia. It must be negotiated across all political stakeholders—FMS leaders, opposition figures, civil society, and citizens. The process must be led by independent electoral institutions, not presidential appointees. And it must be anchored in law, not in informal handshakes or foreign endorsements.

There must also be a return to the federal vision. FMS leaders are not obstacles—they are constitutional pillars. Dialogue with them must be revived—not as a formality but as the core of Somalia’s political architecture. Without their buy-in, no reform will stick, and no election will be legitimate.

Finally, the Somali people deserve a government that speaks to them—not just in words, but in action. That rebuilds the army instead of sacrificing it. That protects the constitution instead of manipulating it. That appoints on merit, not bloodlines. That governs with integrity, not impunity.

Somalia cannot afford another cycle of deception. The time for manufactured crises and diversionary politics is over. What this country needs is a reckoning—and a reset.

It’s not too late to salvage the promise of 2026. But only if those in power are willing to admit that they have failed—and that Somalia’s future cannot be built on denial.

Abdisaid M. Ali
———–
Abdisaid is the chairperson of Lomé Peace and Security Forum and Former Somalia’s Minister of Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation, Somalia. X:@4rukun