By Abdiqani Haji Abdi

The Turkish ambassador’s recent remarks about Somalia’s future were presumably intended to inspire optimism. Instead, they risk sounding remarkably disconnected from the realities facing the Somali people.

The ambassador speaks of satellites, oil discoveries, Turkish fishing fleets, mining, agriculture, roads and ambitious infrastructure projects—as though Somalia were already a stable country preparing to enter an era of technological and economic transformation. There is, however, another Somalia.

It is a country where state institutions remain fragile, where international assistance continues to play a major role in financing government functions, where foreign military forces remain essential to national security, where political authority is fiercely contested and where basic questions of governance and public accountability remain unresolved.

Somalis are being told that the country will launch its first satellite into space in 2027. A satellite would undoubtedly be an achievement. But the question is not whether Somalia should aspire to space technology. The question is whether the priorities being presented to the public correspond to the country’s most urgent needs.

Can the government secure its territory? Can it protect its citizens? Can it pay its civil servants and security personnel? Can it build a professional national army capable of eventually standing on its own? Can it secure its coastline, manage its natural resources and conduct elections that are broadly accepted as credible?

These are the foundations of statehood. Without them, technological ambition risks becoming a spectacular symbol built on an unstable political and institutional foundation. The same problem applies to the ambassador’s optimism about Somalia’s oil and gas potential. Exploration is not production. Geological surveys are not producing oil fields. And a potential resource is not yet national wealth.

Somalis have heard promises about the country’s natural resources for decades. What they need now is not another prediction of future prosperity, but transparency about the agreements that could determine who ultimately benefits from it.

Who owns the resources? Who holds the licenses? What percentage of revenues will remain in Somalia? Who controls the contracts? What protections exist for the environment? What mechanisms will prevent politically connected interests or foreign companies from capturing a disproportionate share of the country’s wealth?

Those are not hostile questions. They are the questions any sovereign country should ask before committing its natural resources to long-term foreign partnerships. The same principle applies to fisheries.

Somalia possesses one of Africa’s longest coastlines and potentially enormous marine resources. Developing the country’s blue economy could create jobs, generate revenue and transform coastal communities. But the arrival of Turkish fishing vessels should not automatically be presented as development. Somalia’s marine resources belong to Somalia.

Any foreign fishing operation should therefore operate under transparent licenses, clear fees, effective monitoring and enforceable environmental rules. Somali fishermen should know where foreign vessels are permitted to operate, how much they pay, who monitors their catches and what portion of the resulting economic value remains in Somalia.

Otherwise, the language of partnership can easily conceal an unequal commercial relationship in which Somalia supplies the resources while foreign companies capture most of the value. There is an even more sensitive dimension to the relationship: military cooperation.

Turkey has become one of Somalia’s most important security partners, providing training, equipment and weapons to Somali forces. Such assistance can play a legitimate role in the fight against Al-Shabaab and in strengthening Somalia’s national security institutions.

But Somalia’s political crisis has increasingly blurred the boundary between national security and domestic political confrontation. When foreign-trained or foreign-equipped security forces become involved in disputes involving political opponents or Federal Member States, questions naturally arise over how foreign-supplied military capabilities are being used.

Weapons supplied to defend Somalia should never become instruments for settling Somalia’s political disputes. Turkey therefore has a legitimate interest in ensuring that its military assistance is subject to strict safeguards, clear end-use controls and accountability. The same principle should apply to every foreign partner providing security assistance to Somalia. At the heart of the problem is the imbalance between the two countries.

Turkey is a powerful regional state with a sophisticated military, substantial economic resources and growing influence across Africa and the Middle East. Somalia remains one of the world’s most institutionally fragile countries. That imbalance does not automatically make the relationship exploitative. But it means Somalia must negotiate with extraordinary caution.

A genuine strategic partnership should strengthen Somali sovereignty and capacity. It should leave Somalia with stronger institutions, greater technical knowledge, better infrastructure and a larger share of the economic value created by its own resources.

It should not leave Somalia dependent on a foreign power for security while that same partner gains expanding access to strategic infrastructure, fishing grounds, natural resources and other commercial opportunities.

This is why the ambassador’s rhetoric about Somalia’s bright future needs to be accompanied by something far more concrete: details. Where are the satellite agreements? Who owns the infrastructure? Who finances it? Who controls the data and technology?

What are the terms of the oil exploration agreements? What are the fishing licenses? How much will Turkish companies pay? Who will enforce the rules? What protections will Somali businesses and fishermen receive? And what safeguards govern Turkish military assistance?

Somalis are entitled to ask these questions. Indeed, they have a responsibility to ask them. A country emerging from decades of state collapse cannot afford to build foreign partnerships around speeches, friendship and promises alone. It needs contracts that can be examined, institutions capable of enforcing them, parliamentary oversight, public disclosure and independent auditing.

The problem with presenting spectacular future projects to a population struggling with basic state failures is not that the projects are inherently undesirable. It is that grand promises can distract from the much harder work of building the foundations required to make those promises meaningful.

A satellite will not build a functioning state. Oil will not automatically create prosperity. Foreign fishing fleets will not automatically strengthen Somali coastal communities. Weapons will not automatically produce security. Roads and infrastructure will not automatically create accountable government.

Institutions do

Somalia needs a professional civil service, accountable security forces, credible elections, independent courts, transparent management of natural resources and public finances, and a government capable of negotiating with foreign partners from a position of institutional strength.

Turkey has every right to pursue its interests in Somalia. Somalia has exactly the same right to pursue its own. That is what a genuine partnership means.

If Turkey helps Somalia build a satellite program, Somalia should gain technology and expertise—not merely host the launch facility. If Turkey invests in fisheries, Somali fishermen should become more prosperous, not displaced. If Turkey participates in oil exploration, Somalia should receive a transparent and fair share of the resulting wealth.

 If Turkey supplies weapons, those weapons should strengthen national security rather than become associated with domestic political confrontation. And if Turkey builds infrastructure, the agreements and ownership structures should be clear to the Somali public. The ambassador may be right that Somalia possesses enormous potential. It does. But potential is not development. Development requires institutions capable of turning national resources into national wealth and foreign partnerships into genuine national capacity.

Until those foundations are strengthened, Somalis should welcome investment while questioning the terms behind it. They do not need another foreign power telling them how bright their future will be. They need to know exactly what Somalia is giving away today—and what Somalia will actually receive in return. That is not hostility toward Turkey. It is what sovereignty looks like.

Abdiqani Haji Abdi
Email: Hajiabdi0128@gmail.com