The legacy of Siilaanyo
In comparison to other countries in Africa Somaliland’s corruption, electoral and authoritarian tendencies may seem mild. Also, to paint a gloomy picture of Somaliland in the years of Siilaanyo would run counter the observations of myself and most other people. Outside the realm of politics, the mood in wider society seemed quite buoyant; not only in the Somali heartland, but in places such as Laas Caanood and Badhan too there were clear signs of overall economic progress. New schools, universities, businesses and services, new flights abroad (direct flights to Dubai) all attested to a general development of Somaliland’s society, even if most of it has been for the benefit of the elites. But most importantly, peace was preserved.
The economy
Currently there are no economic policies. There is sufficient private capital in the country, as the real estate boom indicates – with rapidly rising prices for plots, much speculation, and many private construction activities taking place as well as luxury items such as expensive Landcruisers flooding the market. Speculating on real estate and spending on luxury items is a waste of money, insisted my interviewees, and it feeds conflict and a sense of social injustice. If those funds were invested in businesses, innovation, and manufacturing activities, that could create jobs and help redress Somaliland’s trade imbalance. There are many ways to add value to Somalia’s exports too. For example, livestock is now exported ‘on foot’; instead part of it could be processed in meat plants. The hides of animals are currently thrown away, instead of being processed as leather. But such initiatives are not supported by policy.
A group of Somali-Malaysian investors came with plans to invest in the livestock industry, as Ahmed Musa[4] recounts. They were enthusiastic about the opportunities they saw to invest in their home country, creating jobs, development and a profit. They soon found out that none of the big groups that dominate this sector were interested in fattening farms or a meat plant in Burco. “Livestock industry is a cartel industry” one of them remarked “Local and international [i.e. Saudi, maybe also Djibouti] livestock traders fought to ensure that this facility does not come into existence. There are market barriers imposed by oligopolies in every economic sector in Somaliland”. Government and local administrations have no interest in disrupting currently profitable and politically shielded arrangements. The group returned to Malaysia with their money and plans.
One interviewee bemoans that there are no government schemes to encourage banks to lend money to small businesses. In general, small business have to bear the brunt of taxation and market fluctuations, and have no access to loans, while big businesses dominate the market and pay only few taxes. Some of these businesses would have to break up under cartel laws in other countries. But a business as Telesom, the main telecommunications and mobile money provider, seems too entrenched in the establishment[5] to be threatened with a break-up.
A World Bank study of Somaliland’s private sector in 2016 noted the relatively quick growth of the private sector, but also that it takes place mostly in the informal sector. Reasons given are a complex administrative environment for businesses, as well as low levels of compliance. It is not only difficult, but also unrewarding to create an entirely formal business because very few of your competitors will comply to the existing regulations. On the other hand, the strength of the informal private sector lies in high levels of trust and a safe environment[6]. The report writers explain that “a powerful cultural tradition of honoring mutual obligations within extended lineage groups (…) facilitates greater social trust, the flow of finances in the form of informal loans or gifts, and mutual indebtedness. This latter feature gives Somaliland households and businesses a high level of “social capital” on which to draw and is a valuable source of economic stability in an otherwise high-risk investment environment”.
the Ministry of National Planning and Development (2017) has argued that profound levels of unemployment disproportionately affect youth graduates. According to the ministry, unemployment rates amount to 65.5 % in urban areas, 40.7 % in rural areas, and 47.4 % across the whole country.
FROM UNPO WEBSITE (seems to be government info)
The unemployment rate among those under 30, who comprise 70% of the population, is 75%. The chewing of khat (a narcotic plant) is a widespread social blight among more than half the adult population, an effective tax on productivity and foreign exchange, soaking up as much as $700-million in annual imports.
This situation has been worsened by the paucity of skills, as a result of which there is a contrasting dependency on foreign talent. Literacy is under 45%, and just 20% for women. Female genital mutilation, at an estimated 99%, says something else about the state of power relations.
The Somaliland government budget is just $200-million, three-quarters of which is spent on salaries and operational expenses. Annual GDP is estimated at little more than $646 per capita. Electricity is five times more expensive than in neighbouring Ethiopia, at $1 per kw/h, reflecting the dominance of monopolies, which also define the banking and telecoms sectors
Productivity is poor, and growth opportunities few and far between. Outside of remittances, which provide 55% of the GDP of $2-billion, Somaliland depends on its sale of camels and goats, though this has suffered from a Saudi foot-and-mouth disease import ban except during the Hajj, halving the annual exports to 1.2 million. This challenge has been worsened by the related pressure on grazing areas and the current drought, especially in the Haud, a broad strip of rich pastureland that straddles the Ethiopian-Somaliland border. livestock was the largest economic sector at 29,5% of GDP.
60% of herds decimated by the recent three-year drought.
Non-recognition also means donor funding for Somaliland’s four million people is around just 15% of the $1-billion received by Somalia.
The latest 2019 statistics suggest there is $202-million worth of exports against $1,205-million in imports.
Should oil be struck in Somaliland, the addition of an oil terminal free of the geopolitical problems which beset the Straits of Hormuz could make Berbera even more significant.
Little wonder that the UAE’s DP World is investing some $442-million in extending the port after a deal that gives it a 30-year concession with the automatic option of extending for a further 10 years. Ethiopia holds a 19% stake in the port development, giving it a vested interest in moving goods via Berbera.
Some 30 ships a month dock at the port, unloading 10,000 containers. But only 20% of the containers go back full, a testament to Somaliland’s poor exports.
Given the high rate of unemployment, the economy is a point of particular focus. The economic situation in the country is particularly dire. There are many malnourished people. While about 10% of the population has seen its living standards improve, thanks to access to aid and the meagre state resources, the rest of the population is increasingly steeped in poverty. Recent studies by the MoFinance and the MoPlanning show that 75% of the population is unemployed, and among the under 30s, that’s more than 80%. The Gini coefficient is rapidly rising. (Samatar)
Diaspora remittances are still an important part of the economy, but they are decreasing. The generation that fled Somalia and is still deeply implicated is disappearing; their children see no point in sending money to Somalia. They ask their parents: why don’t they work?[1]
The diaspora is being continuously renewed, though. For families, it can be a wise investment to send one or more of their children abroad to earn a good living[2]
If your clan is not well connected, the only option is tahriib (emigration) or to wait for your turn (i.e. when your clan gains power), if it ever comes. Many Somalilanders have paid for a degree in one of Hargeisa’s 30-40 private universities, only to find it will get them nowhere. These are the first to seek employment abroad. Chances to enter the burgeoning civil service sector are also reserved to those with good connections[3]. But this brain drain is painful, and most interlocutors insisted on the undervalued opportunities for growth that Somaliland could benefit from, if only the right economic policies were followed.
The chewing of khat (a narcotic plant) is a widespread social blight among more than half the adult population, an effective tax on productivity and foreign exchange, soaking up as much as $700-million in annual imports.
This situation has been worsened by the paucity of skills, as a result of which there is a contrasting dependency on foreign talent. Literacy is under 45%, and just 20% for women. Female genital mutilation, at an estimated 99%, says something else about the state of power relations.
The Somaliland government budget is just $200-million, three-quarters of which is spent on salaries and operational expenses. Annual GDP is estimated at little more than $646 per capita. Electricity is five times more expensive than in neighbouring Ethiopia, at $1 per kw/h, reflecting the dominance of monopolies, which also define the banking and telecoms sectors
Productivity is poor, and growth opportunities few and far between. Outside of remittances, which provide 55% of the GDP of $2-billion, Somaliland depends on its sale of camels and goats, though this has suffered from a Saudi foot-and-mouth disease import ban except during the Hajj, halving the annual exports to 1.2 million. This challenge has been worsened by the related pressure on grazing areas and the current drought, especially in the Haud, a broad strip of rich pastureland that straddles the Ethiopian-Somaliland border.
In Somaliland we see a society that is continuously evolving, exposed to contemporary global ideas and values, and enjoying steadily increasing access to goods and services, albeit very unevenly. But the government is not keeping up, and the state is gradually changing from a collective project to a tool used by a powerful elite for its political and material benefit.
Muuse Biixi: upsetting the balance
In my interviews with Somalilanders I noticed a widespread rejection of Muuse Biixi Cabdi’s style of government, heard long lists of economic, social and political woes and encountered a general anxiety that, for want of political space to express and organise contestation, the country is heading toward an explosion. These interviews were with English-speaking, educated urban Somalilanders, so they do not represent the popular view; however they seem to point at a consensus among people who are not part of government, but enjoy influence in society – I hesitate to use the term ‘civil society’ – about the problems the country faces and how they could be tackled. I also spoke with people who do work in government or the institutions supporting it, who sometimes have contrary views but generally agree with the problem analysis. What follows is an assemblage of my interview notes, structured around some of the main events that have occurred since Biixi assumed the presidency.
Caveat: these notes were collected in May and June 2019. Many developments have taken place since, including on Somaliland’s international scene
Muuse Biixi Cabdi, a Sacaad Muuse born in Hargeysa, went to a military academy in Russia, was air force pilot in Barre’s regime, and defected in 1985 to the Somali National Movement, where he became a commander. He is seen as belonging to the Calaan Cas (Red Flag) faction of the SNM, proponent of a strong, authoritarian and centralised government. He was Minister of the Interior in 1993, in Cigaal’s first cabinet; since then he has held no government position but was chairman of the Kulmiye party from 2010 onward (when the previous chair Siilaanyo became president). He has little experience in government[7]. He projects himself as a ‘law and order’ man and tries to always appear decisive.
One of his first measures after election late 2017 was to have young men with long hair detained and publicly trimmed by the police in the streets of Hargeisa and Burco. In 2018 Biixi abrogated the Police Act (which had never been implemented) placing the police under the jurisdiction of military courts and removing most constraints on their action (such as habeas corpus, warrants etc) [8].
He also followed a military course of action to affirm Somaliland’s Eastern border with Puntland; as seen below, this led to a stalemate in the Dhulbahante area, and the expulsion of Somaliland from Warsangeli areas. Likewise, he declared a state of emergency in Sanaag following a new flare-up of clan conflict, that seems to have been triggered by criminal (alcohol-smuggling) behaviour in the police[9]. The state of emergency was widely seen as being an exaggerated measure and the clans involved felt unjustly targeted.
As two seasoned politicians noted, Biixi does not play the parliamentary game. It is not difficult to deal with the Guurti but when facing opposition in the Lower House he reverts to executive order. Within his cabinet he is feared, as he replaces Ministers that question him with other, more compliant ones, mostly inexperienced people of friendly clans[10]. One interviewee commented he doesn’t trust the state security service, relying on his own networks of information instead.
Unlike Siilaanyo, he is impatient with traditional authorities. This has caused members of allied clans to turn away from him. The Ciise Muuse, in particular, are showing signs of disaffection, but even within his own clan, the Sacaad Muuse of the Habar Awal, he is being questioned. For example, when he appropriated part of his own clan lands West of Hargeisa to build a new presidential palace, this sparked a demonstration of women, at least one of them a close relative of the president. In full view of TV cameras, he had them forcefully arrested and later complained of their ‘shameful behaviour’. One may understand this utterance as a manner to show he is above clan politics and will apply law and order to his own kin as well, but this did not go down well with his people.
Another example of his clan-insensitive behaviour was his readiness to accept an extradition request from Djibouti’s government for Omar Guelleh, a powerful Carab businessman owner of the Somaliland Beverages Industry, which operates a state-of-the-art Coca Cola plant near Hargeisa. Instead of first discussing this with clan leaders, he publicly acquiesced to the extradition, sparking anger among Carab clansmen, but also within the business community; given the resistance he had to backtrack.
Clans who ‘lost’ last elections are even unhappier. Many observers had predicted that, following a time-honoured Somali custom, Biixi would reach out to the defeated Habar Younes and give them major positions in his cabinet, if only to split clan loyalties while appearing a man of national reconciliation. Instead, he side-lined the Habar Younes[11] and gave most important cabinet positions to his loyal followers. The defection of a discontented Habar Younes army commander (Colonel Caare) to Puntland in 2018 was a novelty in Somaliland’s political history. Sentiments are boiling among many Habar Younes, but the Waddani leader Cirro has discredited himself in most eyes, as he is incapable of mounting a serious opposition to Biixi[12], so there is no political channel to express this discontent.
In terms of corruption, Biixi inherited a difficult situation, as the penchant for corruption already manifest under Cigaal[13] had gangrened the entire administration from top to bottom by the end of Siilaanyo’s rule. But instead of attempting to redress the situation, observers note he is trying to make it work for him. One investor planning to establish a petroleum refinery near Berbera revealed that he had gotten a phone call from the President telling him he had to partner with Biixi’s son. He is quickly amassing real estate property in Hargeysa, prompting one interviewee to compare Biixi to Sami Abacha, the legendary corrupt president of Nigeria.
Biixi is particularly hard on journalists. Since the beginning of his term several journalists have been arrested, fined and given long prison sentences, sometimes without specified charges or the presence of a lawyer[14]. Usually they are released after a short while, sometimes after going through an appeals process. The point is to warn journalists not to ‘spread fake news’, i.e. report on anything against the government’s interests. Independent civil society members are similarly feeling pressure from the government[15].
Although Biixi’s authoritarian style of government is still far from dictatorship and has not resulted in a reign of terror – and may not be so inclined – it has revealed a worrying shortage of space or channels for political contestation to express itself. The political parties are in disarray. Kulmiye no longer is a vehicle to power, as the President is neglecting it. Waddani faces a leadership crisis but is convinced that it will win the next parliamentary elections… but there is no indication when they will be held, as Biixi appears little inclined to follow the electoral calendar. UCID, the smaller opposition party, also faces a leadership crisis, as its veteran leader Faisal Waraabe is neither leaving nor even sharing power in the party. The formation of any new political party will need to wait to 2022 at least, if local government elections are held then. The formation of any political party in the meanwhile is not only futile, as it could not participate in national politics, but it might well be punished by the imprisonment of its leaders, in a repetition of what happened to Qaran in 2007. The only channel to express one’s discontent is clan, but that is a divisive one, while opposition voices feel they need to unify and lead a political opposition.
This led an unexpected and alarming number of my interviewees to predict an Islamist uprising of the youth and disadvantaged clans against the government, for social justice, against corruption, for good economic and social policies and against elite capture of the state. Given the bad public reputation Al Shabaab has in Somaliland and the generalised aversion for armed violence, it would not be connected to the Islamist insurgency in South Central Somalia. It would be an unarmed movement – but not necessarily a peaceful one if it is confronted with Biixi’s penchant to solve any challenge with ‘law and order’.
Although some of my interviewees thought that peace could only be preserved if the next presidential elections are won by a Habar Younes – and afterwards, every large Isaaq clan having had its turn, it might be time for non-clan politics – most desired an immediate shift away from clan-based politics. They point to the need for appointments based on merit, not clan identity, and for good policies: a solid, innovative, forward-looking national economic policy; an intelligent foreign policy; and social policies to heal the growing divisions in the country.
The mood, as one can gather from the above, is generally pessimistic among urban intellectuals, opposition politicians and young professionals. But most of the information was collected when President Biixi was only two years into his term, and he may well change his tack and turn out to be a different president altogether. Although it is questionable, given how the Somaliland state developed, whether he has the power to really change course, unless a massive popular mobilisation shakes the elites and unravels their deals.
Al Shabaab in Somaliland
According to informed observers, Al Shabaab enjoys a degree of penetration in Somaliland, also among government circles, but it doesn’t try to commit attacks in Somaliland or make its presence otherwise felt since the October 2008 attacks. The rare assassination of an Al Shabaab defector (there were at least two such cases in Laas Caanood in 2015 and 2016) suggests that they have operational capacity in Somaliland, particularly in the troubled Dhulbahante areas; UN security officials are convinced they also are present in Hargeysa[16]. A detailed intelligence report on a planned 2014 Al Shabaab attack in Bole, Addis Ababa[17], describes how Al Shabaab used contacts in Hargeisa for fake documents and logistics, moving freely in and out of the country, and mentions an ‘Al Shabaab women’s network in Somaliland’[18], most members of which were arrested in early 2015. According to one well-introduced interviewee, two of Siilaanyo’s ministers had sons who died fighting for Al Shabaab. It is likely that quite a few families in Somaliland have relatives fighting on the side of Al Shabaab. It thus appears that, for personal or other reasons, Somaliland allows some presence or movement of the terrorist outfit in their country. This situation reportedly worsened under President Siilaanyo, prompting the resignation of Hussein Kenyatti, a Kenyan Isaaq who was in charge of fighting Al Shabaab influence; Kenyatti has reportedly been reinstated by Muuse Biixi, who seems to be more serious in fighting Al Shabaab’s influence in the country[19].
Despite these family inroads of Al Shabaab into Somaliland, there is no public sympathy for the movement, which staunchly opposes the state of Somaliland (as well as any borders separating Somali peoples) and stands symbol for the violent disarray of federal Somalia, which Somalilanders remain very keen to avoid. Another strand of Islam, backed by Gulf countries, is much more powerful and seems to be causing a silent Islamic revolution in society.
Al Ictisaam
Although a sharia-based state seems to have been an important argument for many voters, it is noticeable that religious leaders (wadaado in Somali) played almost no part in the construction of Somaliland’s state; nor had they played much of a role in the SNM[20]. Saudi Arabia never supported Somaliland’s secession[21] and its religious authorities never took much interest in the new country.
It was only after the 2011 ‘Arab spring’ and the rise of Al Shabaab that Gulf countries, notably the UAE, started actively promoting a style of quietist, pro-business Islam among Somalis. The Somali diaspora in Gulf countries, espousing this kind of Islam, also helped its spread. This has led to the rise of a new class of political entrepreneurs, usually successful businessmen, who armed with their own funds and access to Gulf largesse are transforming society along what are often called ‘Wahhabi’ lines: promoting religious education, abstinence from politics, strict religious social norms and private capital accumulation. Given that Dubai and other places in the Gulf have become examples of a successful Muslim society in the 21st century, agents promoting this model encounter little opposition. Some of the new ‘traditional authorities’ sporting traditional titles such as Suldaan belong to this category[22]. The main group representing this new strand of Islamism is al Ictisam, which has equally penetrated federal Somalia and Somaliland. The group is a network of like-minded people rather than an organisation. See next chapter for more.
Altogether, violent incidents and fatalities remain exceptionally low, especially in the heartland. Over the past 20 years, in 130 incidents 244 people have died, according to the ACLED database[23], in the districts comprising the heartland (Borama, Gabiley, Hargeysa, Berbera, Sheekh, Oodweyne, Burco). This boils down to 12 people a year on a population of 1,8 million, or a homicide rate of less than 1 (per 100,000 population), putting Somaliland’s heartland, where 72% of the population lives, on a par with Austria[24].
[1] Interview 8 May 2019 in Damal Hotel, Hargeysa
[2] World Bank 2016: “Somaliland’s Private Sector at a Crossroads” p.
[3] One interviewee (himself not an Isaaq) complained that “Of 17,000 civil servants in Somaliland, more than 15,000 are Isaaq. The army is also heavily tilted toward the Isaaq. On paper there is nearly equality between Somaliland’s clans in the armed forces, but not in reality. For example, there are ghost Samaroon soldiers, whose salaries are paid to Isaaq officers.”
[4] Musa 2019:29
[5] The degree of intertwinement between Telesom and the authorities is made manifest by Sarah Phillips in “Political Settlements and State Formation”. “In the view of a former telecommunications minister, Telesom has been very effective in selectively offering shares to politically in?uential figures both within the government and beyond”; the minister laments that individual members of the government preferred reaping high dividends from the shares to taxing the company appropriately. Phillips 2013:65.
[6] World Bank 2016:xv : “The cultural and societal factors that make the Somaliland private sector unique include high levels of trust (among people living in the same neighborhood, in the same establishment, in the same company, and in the same local community) as well as relatively low levels of crime”. Emphasis by report authors.
[7] As one interviewee put it, he was ‘jobless’ from 1993 to 2017.
[8] Somaliland Standard Nov. 14, 2018. Web source: https://somalilandstandard.com/human-rights-centre-the-government-proposes-iron-fisted-amendments-of-the-police-act/
[9] Personal communications of well-informed local analysts in Ceerigaabo and Ceel Afweyn.
[10] “He doesn’t consult with his cabinet” notes one ex-minister. Cigaal was famous for discussing most proposed courses of action with his whole cabinet; if they disproved, he would withdraw his proposal. This kept the executive unified (Bryden 2003:356)
[11] They ended up with only three cabinet posts, in secondary ministries.
[12] Cirro was speaker of parliament under Siilaanyo, and despite being the leader of the main opposition party, he rarely disagreed with Kulmiye’s and Siilaanyo’s policies. Because of this background he is not a very convincing opposition leader. “You never hear him speak up, he’s just sitting in parliament waiting to become president” says one of the interviewees.
[13] In 2003 already Matt Bryden warned that “corruption is rife in all branches of the administration” (p.359)
[14] See reports by the Committee to Protect Journalists on cpj.org for latest information. Journalists detained before July 2020 include two from Eryal TV, four from Horyaal TV and one from Universal TV.
[15] One interviewee working for an NGO engaged in social work but with a prominent parent told me “I, with my low-ranking job, am continuously being monitored. If two cars are parked in front of my door, I get a call: who are your guests? When I travel, they want to know everything about where I’m going, who I’m meeting. I can get several calls a day like this.”
[16] Discussion with two UN Department of Safety and Security officials in Hargeisa, late 2017. I must point out that the UNDSS does not make its own investigations, but seems to be hand-fed by the government of Somaliland and Western intelligence services; besides, the status of ‘high risk’ environment means hefty danger allowances are paid to UN staff, giving them an incentive to positively assess any piece of information that supports this perception of danger. UN international staff members almost never leave their compounds, which doesn’t allow them to form their own perception of the safety situation in Hargeysa.
[17] It was prevented through the cooperation of Ethiopian and Western intelligence. See IGAD Security Sector Program and Sahan Foundation: “Al-Shabaab as a Transnational Security Treat” 2016, pp 38-40.
[18] This consists of female family members of Isaaq Al Shabaab militants in South Central Somalia.
[19] Confirm this information and provide source
[20] Although the SNM had gone through one year of religious leadership, under the influence of the Somali diaspora in Saudi Arabia who had co-founded the SNM, from 1983 to 1984, which had led them to incorporate sharia law in their own constitution.
[21] Instead, it imposed livestock export bans on Somaliland from to and
[22] Hoehne 2011 p27. Hoehne makes the additional observation that many of these new ‘wadaado’ have no interest in or sympathy for the nomadic culture of their constituents. He also notes that many of them have Al Ittihad Al Islamiyya backgrounds.
[23] From 2016 to 2018 I contributed through daily monitoring to one of the databases extensively used by ACLED, the International NGO Safety database. Although I am aware that some fatalities are not reported on, I am convinced that for the years I worked there, and probably also the decade before that, all significant events were duly recorded; I thus can vouch also for the general accuracy of the ACLED database.
[24] UNODC data of 2004, confirmed by a UNODC map of 2019.