Somali Elections: The HirShabelle Conundrum

The Somali federal government, the leaders of the federal member states, and the federal parliament have agreed to hold indirect elections in 2020/2021 instead of following the one-person-one vote principle. The coming elections will resemble the 2016, in which a confluence of tribal chieftains, money, foreign influences, and federal government meddling were integral. HirShabelle state is already experiencing a tense political struggle, with old political agreements among clans being challenged and new alliances being formed. The situation there is becoming the stomping ground of a power struggle between President Mohamed Farmajo and his rival, former president Sheikh Sharif Ahmed.

Old Politics, New Realities

When the new state of HirShabelle was founded four years ago, clan leaders adopted a power-sharing agreement. The Xawadle clan was given the presidency, the Abgaal clan was given the vice presidency and capital, and the Gaaljecel clan was given the speaker of the state legislator. The arrangement proved to be a patchwork and not a solid framework that pleased the competing clans. The agreement initially worked even though serious grievances persisted. Now that the country is preparing for federal and state elections, old wounds are reopening and attempts are being made to rectify perceived injustices or unfairness.

Ali Abdullahi Hussein “Guudlaawe” (Abgaal) has been the vice president of HirShabelle and is now a candidate for the state presidency. His candidacy is supported by President Mohamed Farmajo and Fahad Yasin, the director of the National Intelligence and Security Agency (NISA). When Goodlaawe landed in Jowhar two weeks ago, he declared that any individual or group with grievances should come to Jowhar, the state capital, to talk over their problems. His candidacy is seen as an obvious challenge to the Xawadle clan’s dominance over the presidency.

Guudlaawe’s candidacy unnerved politicians like Ali Abdullahi Osoble, the former president of HirShabelle, who sees it as the marginalization of the Xawadle and the reneging on a gentleman’s agreement between clan elders. Osoble threatened the formation of a different HirShabelle state administration based in Beledweyne. Challenging the Xawadle presidency, Osoble said, was akin to questioning the Majerteen leadership in Puntland and the Habar Gidir in Galmudug. “Imagine a Dhulbahante president in Puntland and a Majerteen speaker,” he exclaimed.

Farmajo’s strategy in supporting Guudlaawe is an attempt to stave off two of his leading rivals, former presidents Hassan Sheikh Mohamoud and Sheikh Sharif Ahmed, who are Abgaal. Guudlaawe, if elected, will be in a position to help in the selection of federal parliamentarians from HirShabelle, who in turn will select the president of the country. Former president Sheikh Sharif is scheduled to visit Jowhar and is expected to vigorously challenge any attempts to install Guudlaawe in the state presidency. Ironically, the two belong to the same Harti Abgaal subclan. Guudlaawe is a former aide to the late former warlord and mayor of Mogadishu Mohamed Dheere. Shaikh Sharif has recently returned from the United Arab Emirates and his supporters say that he is not financially strapped as was rumored several months ago. There were fears that the former president was not in a position to challenge Farmajo in the presidential elections.

Farmajo’s strategy to support Guudlaawe is a recipe for Xawadle alienation and the possible disintegration of HirShabelle. The Xawadle feel that they are being denied the power of the presidency and their leaders have declared that they might walk out of the state government. The environment in Beledweyne is ripe for nurturing such a grievance. Their critics maintain that the presidency should not be reserved for specific clan.

Security Concerns

There is little development taking place in HirShabelle because there are areas under the control of Al-Shabaab. The presence of this militant group adds more complexity to what was already a tortured, long-shot process of state building. Although Jowhar is 90 km north of Mogadishu, one has to fly there because of the insecurity of the road that connects the two cities. Only a week ago, some government officials were flying between Balcad, a city 54 km away, and Jowhar. In essence, the HirShabelle administration is only in charge of cities that are surrounded by the radical Islamic group.

On October 28, the local chieftains selected 90 officials to serve as state legislators. The selection of the remaining nine members of the assembly will come next. The speed at which the new legislature was selected was astonishing. There are reports that the federal government was instrumental in airlifting both the chieftains and future legislators from Mogadishu. The Xawadle leaders are grumbling that they had not been consulted about the formation of the new legislature. It is not clear how effective the new legislature will be. The last legislature was weak and rarely met because many of the legislators spent most of their time in Mogadishu. Osman Barre, speaker of the legislature, did not set foot in Jowhar for six months. Moreover, 66 of the 99 lawmakers were members of the state council of ministers.

HirShabelle is a microcosm of the broader failure of state building in the country. It is a region in which clan politics is acute, and flimsy views of governance reign supreme. It suffers from a lack of development, the marginalization of women, and being stuck with politicians who keep on failing. Moreover, there is clear and present danger from the Al-Shabaab radical group. It is a region that the federal government sees as merely as a battlefield for election manipulation. It will take another four years before the leaders of the federal government pay any attention.

Dad in the Delivery Room: A Help or a Hindrance?

When a woman is giving birth, should a father be allowed in the delivery room against the mother’s wishes?

A New Jersey court ruled in December 31, 2014 that during the birth of their child, a mother has every right not to let the father in the delivery room. Judge Suhail Mohammed wrote, “Any interest a father has before the child’s birth is subordinate to the mother’s interest.”

Perhaps a bit of background is in order. Rebecca DeLuccia and Steven Plotnick were engaged when DeLuccia got pregnant. The couple planned that Plotnick would be actively involved in the baby’s birth. However, as DeLuccia’s pregnancy advanced, the couple split, and Plotnick became convinced he would not be able to witness the birth of his child. Accordingly, he filed a lawsuit claiming DeLuccia was not planning to inform him when she went into labor, nor would she let him sign the child’s birth certificate. Further, Plotnick said she would not allow him to be present during delivery. DeLuccia denied the first two claims but said she would “request her privacy in the delivery room.” DeLuccia promised that Plotnick could visit the child after delivery. Plotnick was furious and insisted on being present during the delivery.

Judge Mohammed sided with DeLuccia citing New Jersey and federal laws that protect the rights of a hospital patient. Mohammed added that Plotnick’s presence in the delivery room could “add to an already stressful situation,” in a manner that “could endanger both the mother and the fetus.”

I must admit, Plotnick is an intriguing character. He had the audacity to sue his former fiancé so he could be in the birth room. Many men might steer clear of the birth chamber; others might beg their insistent wives to be excused from attending the delivery. I have a personal story about this subject. 

Three decades ago, my then-wife (God bless her soul) and I attended a pregnancy class called “Lamaze.” The class was conducted by a nurse named Pamela, a no-nonsense woman in her 40s who grew up in Ohio. My wife, a native of Michigan, got along well with Pam, who seemed a bit cool toward me. Perhaps it had to do with her difficulty understanding my accent. She knew I was an international student attending Ohio University. Her aloofness could also have been because she sensed something about me—namely, my indifference to her class and its purpose. She was absolutely right. Frankly, I was not a believer in the Lamaze method.

The technique originated in France and was developed by French obstetrician Ferdinand Lamaze. It is a set of techniques that help women cope with pain during labor and delivery rather than resorting to medical intervention. It involves breathing and relaxation techniques and other natural ways to relieve pain. My wife read about Lamaze and became a fan. When she told me about it, I thought the whole idea was bizarre, but decided to support her. I went along with the idea of attending the class twice a week. I believed that when the time for the delivery came, all these pain-relieving techniques would go out the window. Four or five couples were in our class, so each couple worked as a team during practice, with the idea that they would do so during delivery. The class, which cost a few hundred dollars, was helpful in learning the process of labor and delivery and assuaged our fears about the new adventure of giving birth.

We attended the class religiously for a few weeks. Pam was an excellent instructor and motivator. After several weeks of instruction, we graduated and decided to hold an appreciation dinner for Pam at Pizza Hut. I was happy that the class was over and felt relieved, but I also knew that the baby was due soon.

D-Day arrived one or two months later. It was December 3 when my wife and I headed to O’Bleness Hospital in Athens, Ohio. The labor was intense, slow, and plodding. It was the middle of the night when it came time to deliver. Nurses, assistant nurses, a physician, and I were in the delivery room. The environment was chaotic. It was loud with too many bright lights. In the midst of all the clamor, I panicked. I started to sweat profusely and felt faint. I was experiencing a panic attack. The doctor noticed my discomfort and came to my aid. He told me it was OK to go outside if I wanted. It was obvious I was a liability in the delivery room—perhaps he did not want to have a second patient on his hands. I went outside but stayed near the delivery suite. All my efforts to learn and master breathing techniques in our Lamaze class had come to naught. Shortly, my baby daughter arrived in the world crying and screaming, and I suddenly forgot all about my stress, anxiety, and—most of all—how I cracked under pressure.

In April 15, 2008, I read an article in The Mail, a British newspaper, in which leading French obstetrician Michel Odent expressed his disapproval of men being in the delivery room. After 50 years of experience as a medical doctor with 15,000 deliveries under his belt, Odent finally came out and advised men to stay away from the delivery suite. In the 1950s, it was unheard of for men to be part of the delivery. However, since the 1970s, it has become acceptable for men to participate in the childbirth process. It is now common in the West for men to be next to their partners as they deliver. Interestingly, Odent viewed this as a bad idea. “The presence of men in the delivery room is not always a positive thing,” he argued. “[The husband’s] presence is a hindrance, and a significant factor [for] why labors are longer, more painful and more likely to result in intervention than ever.” It is impossible, he said, for a woman to feel relaxed when her husband, as tense and stressed as he can be, stands next to her and attempts to soothe her. Moreover, there are some men, Odent added, who are “at risk of being unwell or depressed due to having seen their partners labor.”

Dr. Odent spoke up a tad late for men like me. I could have used his recommendation a couple of decades ago. I come from a conservative culture that views the presence of men in the delivery room as taboo. While it is a personal choice, of course, I find myself agreeing with Dr. Odent. It is much better for men to wait outside and express their loving support before and after delivery. There are certain things women do better when they do them alone.

Abdirahman Hashi: The Cost of Confronting Corruption

Abdirahman Mohamed Abdi Hashi believes he is a fortunate man.

“I have had certain opportunities in life that many of my peers did not get,” he said.

Those opportunities included education in the United States immediately after his high school graduation, employment at prestigious U.S. and international firms, and the rare prize of attaining a doctorate in economics.

“By the time I came back to Somalia in 2012, I realized I had not worked in Somalia,” he said. Little did he know that, four years later, he would become a federal minister for fisheries and marine resources—a job that would bring challenges and letdowns he had not expected.

Hashi comes from a family steeped in politics: his father, Mohamed Abdi Hashi, was one of the principal founders of Puntland and had served as vice president and president of the regional government. Hashi was born in Sheikh in northern Somalia in 1955. As a child, he attended Quranic school and elementary school in Lasa Anod. Afterward, the family moved to Mogadishu, where he finished his intermediate schooling at Media Centrale and his high school at Benadir Secondary School.

In 1977, Hashi arrived in New York and enrolled at Pace University. In spite of a tuition waiver, he had to work hard in order to pay for his living expenses.

In the 1980s, he began working at various financial heavyweight corporations such as Price Coopers Waterhouse and Citibank at their headquarters in New York, as well as the famed investment banking firm of Solomon Brothers.

In 1989, Hashi moved to Washington, D.C where he began a 15-year career with the World Bank. As a Certified Public Accountant (CPA) with master’s degrees in economics and finance, he strived to improve his lot and go further in expanding his knowledge. Hashi went to school and earned a doctorate in economics from George Mason University with a specialization in monetary and international economics. In 2013, he published a book, Islamic Banking: Study in Shaky Times, which explains Islamic finance and compares the stability of conventional banks with those of Islamic banks.

In 2012, Hashi’s return to Mogadishu was full of energy and verve. He wanted to make a change in his native country and decided to run for the presidency.

“I knew my victory in the elections was far-fetched,” he said, laughing, “but developing my campaign platform and presenting a cohesive political and economic program for Somalia was worthwhile

In early 2017, Somalia elected a new president in Mohamed Farmajo, and Hashi was appointed as the Minister of Fisheries and Marine Resources. He had another responsibility in the Secretariat of the Economic Committee in the Council of Ministers, a body which oversees and coordinates the work of 12 ministries.

  

Hashi knew he had a herculean task before him. He was put in charge of a ministry in a country  that experienced two decades of civil war, anarchy, piracy, an endemic culture of apathy for fishing, and the absence of fishing cooperatives. Moreover, Somalia’s coastline, which is estimated to be about 3,300 km long with an Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) over a million square miles, has always faced one deleterious problem: Illegal, Unreported and Unregulated (IUU) fishing. “The country loses between $300 to $600 million every year due to IUU fishing,” Hashi said. China, Iran, Yemen, Egypt, France, the Netherlands, and Spain are among the biggest offenders. Among many other problems, Hashi saw an urgent need for robust naval capabilities such as a coast guard, at least 10 navy patrol vessels, skilled manpower, and the political will to make the best and right decisions.

Additionally, there was the thorny issue between the federal government and the federal member states. The Provincial Constitution is explicit in resource-sharing. Up to 12 nautical miles belongs to the regions; 12 to 24 nautical miles are within a grey zone; and 24 to 200 nautical miles are federal responsibility. Since the administration of President Hassan S. Mohamoud, negotiations have bogged down between the federal government and the federal member states in fisheries licenses revenue-sharing because Puntland wanted a share almost similar to that of the federal government. In February 2018, Hashi proposed an interim fisheries agreement in which all the monies from the issuance of federal licenses would be deposited in the Central Bank and then it would be divided between the federal government and the regional governments based on consensus. Incidentally, this interim fisheries agreement is in effect now and is the basis for the 30 fishing licenses that have been issued to Chinese companies since Hashi’s departure.

“Illegal fishing in our shores is the most challenging problem we have,” Hashi said.

Many foreign ships roam Somalia’s coast exploiting fish and marine resources without being stopped and questioned. Among these are the super trawlers or factory trawlers, which are banned in many parts of the world because they threaten the natural habitat of fish and cause overfishing. These ships have the capacity to stay at sea for weeks, catch fish, process them, freeze them, and store them. They may also be involved in illegal activities such as drug smuggling, human trafficking, and toxic waste dumping. “On the Somali coastline, some of these trawlers have used Vietnamese and Cambodian crews as forced labor,” Hashi explained.

Bottom trawling is a method used by these factory trawlers to scoop fish from the seabed thereby damaging the marine ecosystem and depleting fishery. “Some of these trawlers have managed to extirpate mangroves in our coast and ship them back to their countries like China does,” Hashi said. Legally, the trawlers are not allowed along Somalia’s coastline, but Puntland, a regional government, allows them to fish in its region even though Puntland’s fishery laws prohibit them.

Specifically, there have been seven trawler ships registered in Thailand that have been violating Puntland’s coast. Oddly, these ships carry fishing licenses issued by Puntland and hence operate between 24 and 200 nautical miles in Somalia’s exclusive economic zone in clear violation of federal laws. At some point, these ships conveniently secured Djiboutian flags, thanks to lobbying by Abdiweli Gaas , the former head of the Puntland regional government to fish in Puntland. When Djibouti discovered about the Interpol pursuing these ships, it withdrew its flag. Ironically, the ships found flags from an unexpected place: Mogadishu. The federal Ministry of Ports and Marine Transport allowed them to use Somali flags. When Hashi found out, he documented the incident and reported the matter to Ahmed Ali Dahir, then the country’s Attorney General. Dahir met with President Farmajo at Villa Somalia, the seat of the presidency, and the flags were withdrawn from the foreign ships.

On May 3, 2017, Hashi said that Thailand had contacted the Somali federal government to inquire about a ship in its territory with a fishing license issued by Puntland. The Ministry of Fisheries and Marine Resources responded that any fishing licenses not issued by the federal government of Somalia are null and void. Thailand’s response was swift and decisive: it seized the ship. That is when Abdiweli Gaas complained to President Farmajo that Hashi and his ministry were hurting the interests of Puntland businessmen who had a stake in the seized Thai ship.

It is important to note that there are 6,000 ships registered in Thailand, which bring in an annual fishing revenue of $300 billion to that country. Most of the fish are exported to the European Union (EU), however, there have been serious allegations of these Thai-owned ships being involved in illegal fishing, human trafficking, and other shady activities. According to Hashi, The EU issued a yellow card to Thailand to curb illegal activities by these ships or face serious commercial consequences. Thailand began monitoring these ships and taking legal actions against them. “In fact, Thailand wanted to help Somalia to fight illegal fishing and was telling the EU that it was aiding us,” Hashi said.

Hashi also said he was pleased with Thailand’s bold actions in seizing the ship, which had a merchandise of fish illegally caught along Somalia’s coastline. “We were sending a message to the world that Somalia will not tolerate the exploitation of its coast,” he said. The president of Puntland and his associates were adding pressure to the Ministry of Fisheries and Marine Resources and Villa Somalia to cease its activity of waging a campaign against the Thai-owned ships. President Farmajo was walking a tight rope: he needed the support of the regional governments, particularly Puntland, which had tense relations with the federal government.

The president, the prime minister, and the federal government leaders attempted to circumvent Hashi by directly contacting Thailand. For instance, Yusuf Garaad, then Somalia’s Foreign Minister, wrote a letter to the Thai government asking for the release of the seized ship. According to Hashi, the Thai government became concerned about the foreign ministry’s correspondence, as the matter of the seized ship was not its purview.

Hashi said he had briefed Prime Minister Hassan Kheire about the seized ship, and the premier was initially supportive of Hashi’s stand. “When I told Khaire about my actions in asking Thailand to hold the ship, he became animated and started using his flowery language that it was the end of illegal fishing in Somalia,” Hashi said. He characterized the prime minister as “negatively genius.” When the premier saw the goodwill Hashi had developed with Thailand, he wanted the minister to ease on the seized ship and let it go, but Hashi refused. In essence, Farmajo was capitulating to Gaas’ pressure and demands. Gaas was howling and the noise from Villa Somalia deafening. Amid the cacophony, Hashi found himself in the center of the storm. Ironically, the firing of Hashi came at an opportune time when the leaders of the federal government and regional leaders had a gathering in Garowe, the capital of Puntland.

Hashi was quietly relieved of his position as the Minister of Fisheries and Marine Resources. Mahad Guled, Deputy Prime Minister of Somalia, gave a statement praising Hashi for his dedication, hard work, and superb knowledge. No word was ever issued on the real reason behind Hashi’s job termination. In the end, President Farmajo had caved in to appease those figures in Somalia who had no qualms about seeing their country exploited. Obviously, political expediency prevailed on the part of Farmajo. As Hashi said, “The need for political will is paramount in fighting illegal fishing in our coastline.” The work he said he was trying to do at the Ministry of Fisheries and Marine Resources—which are the core principle of tapping into the country’s natural wealth, investing in its coast, generating revenue to alleviate poverty, and aiming at self-sufficiency—were  undermined by our leaders. “Unfortunately, personal gain by some leaders became more important than the national interest,” Hashi said.

Baadiyow and Somaliland: A Tale of a Statement

On May 18, 1991, the Somali National Movement (SNM) declared the secession of the  northern region of Somalia from the rest of the country—a declaration that was met by a chorus of criticism and condemnation. Particular among these critics was the Islamic Movement of Somalia, which produced a four-page statement in Arabic lashing out against the SNM. The statement was signed by Abdirahman M. Abdullahi “Baadiyow of the IMS’ Information Office in Canada. The statement was  harsh, conspiratorial, and nationalistic in tenor. It questioned the SNM’s motivation and suggested links with dubious foreign countries. The statement also called for unity among Somalis and the urgent need to seek reconciliation through peaceful means to end tribal conflicts, divisions, and the civil war engulfing the country.

Dr. Baadiyow, a senior advisor for peace and reconciliation for Prime Minister Hassan Kheire, has been prominent among the leaders of the Islah Movement (formerly the Islamic Movement of Somalia). He is one of the founders of Mogadishu University, a former presidential candidate in 2012, and a graduate of Canada’s McGill University, where he earned his doctorate in Islamic History. He has been a leading civil society activist who has conducted extensive research and work on the subject of peace and reconciliation. Last year, President Mohamed Farmajo appointed him as a member of the Somali government’s committee for talks with Somaliland.

The IMS statement, titled, “A Declaration of the Islamic Movement of Somalia regarding the Attempt to Divide the Country,” condemned the SNM as a secessionist movement bent on dividing the country in accordance with the “dirty” plan of the European colonial powers. The secessionist movement, the statement read, even used the name “Somali Land” for the self-declared government, a direct translation of the very name the British colonial government had used for that part of the country.

By following the colonial design, which divided Somalia into five parts, the statement continued, the SNM was taking the country back to the pre-1960 era before Somalia gained independence. The IMS also claimed that the hand of “foreign actors” was at work in the SNM’s decision to secede, and especially Ethiopia and what it called the “Jewish entity” of interfering in Somalia’s affairs. These two entities, it said, were not in favor of “seeing Somalia united.” Therefore, the SNM’s action was “impetuous” legally invalid, and contrary to custom and logic.

The statement asked all Somali people to unite against the SNM and “encircle” the secessionist movement because the secession plans were illegitimate. The statement added that Somalis are homogenous people with the same culture, religion, and language. Moreover, the SNM was wrong to claim the north suffered from more repression than other parts of the country. President Siad Barre, it said, had the same policy of repression against the Somalis under his tyrannical regime.

The real motivation of the SNM, the statement said, was to do the bidding of the interests of the Somali people’s enemies. In addition, the secessionist movement had originated in Ethiopia, was  racist, had used tyranny against our people in the north, and endeavored to implement the plans of “the enemies of Somalia.”

The Islamic Movement commended the efforts of some Arab countries and the Arab League for supporting the Somali people.
***
The IMS statement had two audiences: The Arab world in general and the Islamic movements outside the country, especially the Muslim Brotherhood of which the Somali group is a member.

The use of Arabic was crucial because it conveyed some themes that many Arabic readers can relate to. There was the theme of “Us vs. Them,” the plots being made against the Arab and Muslim world, and the presence of Israel in these evil machinations. Israeli’s backing of a Somali secessionist movement might raise eyebrows and be regarded a poor attempt at peddling a conspiracy theory. Whereas neighboring Ethiopia has had major interests in interfering the affairs of Somalia, the “Jewish entity” has other interest in maintaining good relations with Ethiopia. Since its formation, Israel has always maintained friendly relations with Ethiopia, whether the latter was under a monarchy or Mengistu’s Marxist regime.

Finally, to what extent does the only name on the statement, Dr. Baadiyow’s, affect his current position as the committee appointed to engage talks with the self-declared government of Somaliland?

Last month, General Abdirahman Abdi Hussein “Guulwade,” a member of the reconciliation committee, resigned after he gave an interview in which he agreed how Barre’s regime had reacted in suppressing the SNM’s rebellion in the 1980s. Baadiyow, in an interview with the BBC, called Guulwade’s statement a “personal opinion and not the official position of the Committee.” 

Will Baadiyow reaffirm the contents of the statement as was issued by his group in May 1991 or will he repudiate it?  

                     

Somalia, a Dutch Marine Company, and a Murky Contract

While the Somali Federal Government and the nation eagerly await the final proceedings of the international maritime case between Kenya and Somalia at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in the Hague, Netherlands, another legal case will soon be heard in the Netherlands between Somalia and a Dutch company named Atlantic Marine and Offshore Group (AMO). The proceedings of the case will take place before a Dutch arbitration and mediation entity in Rotterdam. Unlike the case before the ICJ, this case is hardly known to the Somali public. This raises the question: Are there other contracts the Somali government has signed that may have benefited a few Somali officials and deprived the nation from utilizing its resources? And how did Somalia get involved in a dispute with AMO?

Background

In May, 2013, a group of Somali leaders attended the London Conference on Somalia, at which some countries pledged about 270m euros ($300m) to help the country after two decades of conflict. A year later, another international conference on Somalia was held in Brussels, at which donor countries pledged 1.8b euros ($2.4b) to aid Somalia in its rebuilding and development.

It was two months after the London Conference, on July 29, 2013, when AMO and the Somali Federal Government signed a contract worth 132m euros ($146.2m). The provisions of the contract stated that AMO would build six Damen Stan 5009 long-range patrol vessels, develop, train, and maintain the Somali coast guard fleet, operate a coast guard training center for personnel and security officers, and run a ship repair facility. 

There were secret provisions of the contract that AMO later accused the Financial Governance Committee of Somalia of publicizing in breach of the agreement.

Somalia assigned a piece of land at Mogadishu airport next to Jubba Airways for AMO to use for the project. About 25% (33m euros or about $36.5) of the contract was due upon signing, and the remaining balance was to be paid in four installments. The first vessel was to be delivered to Somalia 18 months after signing the contract. Abdihakim Mohamoud Haji-Faqi, then Somalia’s Defense Minister, and Willem Kooi of AMO, signed the contract.

AMO officials believed the contract, once successfully completed, would address some of the major challenges facing Somalia. Such challenges included protecting its coast—considered the longest in Africa and the Middle East—from pirates and other constant violations of its exclusive economic zone, including illegal foreign fishing, toxic dumping, and smuggling.

Default Note

The first crack in the AMO and Somalia contract emerged when Somalia failed to pay the quarter of the contract, as was agreed upon. That was followed by bureaucratic bungling between the Somali Defense Ministry and Somalia’s Financial Governance Committee (FGC), which is under the Finance Ministry. According to published reports, the Defense Ministry failed to furnish a copy of the contract to the Finance Ministry. 

In 2014, the Finance Ministry acknowledged that Somalia was financially strapped and that the cost of the contract was more than the entire 2014 budget of the country. 

However, a year later, the FGC announced that the contract did not indeed exist. The reason was  that it had repeatedly requested a copy of the contract from the Defense Ministry, which the latter was unable to furnish the document.

The final blow came in 2016, when the Defense Ministry informed the FGC that the contract was  “defunct.”

The Atlantic Marine and Offshore Shipping Company (AMOSC), a subsidiary of AMO based in Cypress, filed for arbitration after Somalia reneged on the contract and failed to pay. The AMOSC demanded a payment of 66 million euros ($73m) plus 24.6 million euros ($27.2 m) in interest that had been accrued during the past six years.

According to AMO’s Kooi, AMOSC sent numerous correspondences and six invoices to the Somali government, all of which were ignored. 

Kooi was unsparing and reserved his most invective to Somali officials: “AMO only experienced an unreliable and untrustworthy contract partner in the form of a non-performing Somali Federal Government avoiding to take active ownership and owing AMO tens of millions of outstanding payments.”

The Default Note from AMOSC was hand-delivered on March, 2018 to Mohamed Mursal (then the Defense Minister), Ali Said Fiqi (Somali Ambassador to the EU), and the Financial Governance Committee.

Even after the case went to arbitration, Kooi told  a defense and intelligence publication, IHS Jane’s, that the Dutch company  was ready to complete the project.

Red Flags
Behind the hoopla of signing the contract between the AMO and Somalia, was a disaster waiting to happen. Several issues raised red flags about this contract. In fact, there may be more questions than there are answers:

First, it is mindboggling that a government that lacks basic institutions such as checks and balances between the executive and the legislative branches, financial means, and a system of viable quality control, would enter into such a contract. Both Somalia and AMO were misguidedly counting on the several billion dollars that donor countries had pledged to Somalia at the London and Brussels conferences. In reality, these were (and remained) only promises. Apparently, Somali leaders forgot about their well-known proverb: “Miro gunti ku jira, kuwa geed saaran looma daadsho” (The fruits in your possession should never be discarded for fruits on the tree). Somali officials were so entranced by the more than $3 billion they eagerly expected to receive for development and security that they lost track of restraint and realistic planning.is not common for a private company to build, train, and manage a fleet of a coast guard. Generally, these tasks are done by friendly countries with proven records. AMO has no record of ever building a coast guard fleet for any country.

Second, AMO officials were befuddled by the Somali officials who were either inept or clueless. Some might have been greedy and opportunistic, or, the government was simply glutted with mediocrities. Furthermore, the Dutch company stumbled on a rare opportunity to take advantage of a failed state, which was promised a vast amount of money by Western countries. One former senior Somali government official knowledgeable about the contract, who chooses to remain anonymous, characterized AMO officials as “bankrupt,” “con artists,” and “gold-diggers” bent on hoodwinking a poor country. “AMO officials may have paid kickbacks or engaged in other illegal business practices, which in itself is ground for nullifying the contract,” he added. The incompetence of the Somali officials was obvious in the lack of communication between the Defense Ministry and Finance Ministry to the extent that even a copy of the contract was not shared. How did this bureaucratic bungling happen? Why were the officials at the Defense Ministry not transparent? What were they hiding? Why did it take several years for the contract to be deemed “non-existent” or “defunct?” It is not clear why in 2016 Ambassador Ali Said Fiqi participated in a made-for-TV appearance in the Netherlands, where he was shown vessels under construction that the AMO was allegedly building for Somalia. In an interview with the Somali National TV Channel, Fiqi gave laudatory statements about the good prospects of the contract and how the vessels would benefit Somalia. Wasn’t the good ambassador fully aware of his government’s failure to honor the contract? Why did AMO officials allow such a spectacle to take place, when they knew that the contract was headed for disaster, and hence had no path forward?

Third, all indications seem to suggest that AMO will win the arbitration in Rotterdam, Netherlands, and that Somalia will have no recourse but to abide by the legally binding decision. Sources have told me that the Dutch government has been pressuring the Somali government to accommodate AMO and pay millions of dollars in a settlement. Indeed, Somalia signed a legal document and unilaterally failed to uphold it. However, a comprehensive investigation of what led to the signing of the contract and whether illicit monies were exchanged should be conducted. This public inquiry will force Somali officials to answer for their egregious conduct, and to serve as a valuable lesson for current and future government leaders not to enter into contracts that will incur an undue financial burden on taxpayers. 

Somalia is a poor country that cannot afford to use  its meager resources to pay millions of dollars on legal cases that could have been avoided by wise planning, meticulous background research and assessment, a wide-ranging consultation, public debates, and transparency. Perhaps, the elimination of official corruption becomes paramount more than ever.

Somalia's New Star Attraction: Clerical Hype for the Masses

In August 2019, a plane landed at Mogadishu Airport as TV cameras focused on who would be the mysterious official to step from the aircraft. Then, a tall, young, and handsome man dressed in an Arab Thawb (garment) emerged and walked down the steps accompanied by his equally good-looking and a youthful brother. Abubakar Mohamed, a popular Somali social media cleric, and his brother Omar Mohamed were greeted on the tarmac by another boyish-looking Somali official, Abdinur M. Ahmed, Director of Communications -- Office of the President. Abdinur, as he is popularly known, greeted and hugged Abubakar and his brother, and then the trio walked to the airport’s VIP waiting room. This unique airport reception for a visiting cleric was an example of a clear government policy to latch into popular religious celebrities, co-opt them, and use them to serve like Roman Praetorian guards who would vigilantly defend the government.

In the past few months alone, the Ministry of Religion and the Ministry of Sports and Youth have sponsored and supported public lectures by Abubakar and Sheikh Kenyawi, both from the diaspora, at Mogadishu’s Konis (now renamed Engineer Yariisow) Stadium. Sheikh Kenyawi spoke about the theme of forgiveness and Abubakar delivered a speech about the role of youth in society. The hype of these lectures was just a crude form of Mogadishu performance art.

And then, there was the April 2019 conference in Mogadishu for Somali clerics sponsored by the Ministry of Religion.

Abubakar: A Millennial Preacher

Abubakar Mohamed, a Somali resident of the Netherlands, emerged on social media several years ago. He has no religious training, nor does he serve as an imam of a mosque. His topics are mostly spiritual and relate to self-help. The range of his religious lessons is at best limited and at times redundant. Mostly, he gives short talks on social media and has a tendency to appear occasionally with other clerics, depending on where he is visiting. He travels a lot and claims that he is running three separate businesses. He has written a self-published book in Somali, Ku Raaxeeyso Noloshaada (Enjoy Your Life) and was a guest at the Mogadishu Book Fair (MBF). The book, as its title indicates, is specifically geared to a wider audience and explains that one can solve problems—any problem—if certain steps of self-improvement are taken. Abubakar has a laid-back and encouraging personality. His approach of preaching, in short, can be summarized as, “Don’t worry, be happy.”

Abubakar talks a lot about love. While traveling, he preaches about the importance of love in one’s life and the joy of the beautiful faces of people he meets. “I swear by God, I love you,” he says. The audience, who are mostly impressionable youth, applaud and cheer. In Mogadishu Stadium, he told his audience they were “the most beautiful people in the world and not even in China and America can people like you be found.” However, Abubakar’s emphasis on love has raised eyebrows among some people because of his marital status. He is single.

While visiting Britain, an interviewer asked Abubakar why a handsome, healthy, and religious  young man like him is still single. Abubakar giggled nervously and then fumbled for words. “You know, I am asked this question four or five times a day,” he responded. It was obvious he did not want to answer the question and he spent a minute or two beating around the bush. “I am having difficulty making a choice among many women,” he mumbled, smiling. Then the interviewer came to his rescue and asked if wanted to marry a pretty woman or a religious one. “A religious one,” Abubakar said bashfully.

Abubakar elaborated on the type of woman he would marry: “Someone who is kind, pretty, and makes me smile when I see her from two kilometers away.  A woman whom we can understand each other.” Subsequently, what followed was an alarming statement which had a whiff of narcissism to it, or perhaps it was youthful hubris. “I want someone who likes what I like, hates what I hate, and who will take care of me,” he said.

While in Mogadishu, Abubakar and his brother met senior government officials, including Prime Minister Hassan Kheyre. They also visited schools, the Grand Mosque of Is-Bahaysiga, and Lido Beach. Their presence in the capital was a publicity stunt for the government because the duo are popular with the youth—inside and outside the country—and they are preachers known for talking about safe topics. Abubakar and Sheikh Kenyawi will not talk about hard-hitting subjects such as corruption, security lapses in Mogadishu, the thousands of Somali youth who have left the country, risking their lives in search of a better life in Europe, and the ever-growing disparity between the privileged few and the masses.

Like any social media phenomenon, Abubakar’s rise might be ephemeral and, hence, the star that burns so brightly could get extinguished quickly.

    

A Conference for Clerics

On April 21, 2019, the Somali federal government sponsored a conference for a limited number of Somali clerics. President Mohamed Farmajo opened the gathering and Prime Minister Hassan Kheyre closed it three days later. It was an environment suffused with self-congratulation.

Somalia, like any Muslim country, has a coterie of clerics close to the government. These clerics provide legitimacy to the regime, especially when the main, virulent opposition group in the country is Al-Shabaab, an organization with radical religious ideology. The terror group contends that the federal government is un-Islamic and, hence, must be violently removed.

Participants in the Mogadishu conference were mostly clerics based inside the country, although two clerics from Minnesota (Hassan Jaamici and Abdirahman Sheikh Omar) were also invited. The goal of the conference was to show the public that the religious scholars are in congruence with the government in a) the war against Al-Shabaab, b) the dispute between the federal government and regional states, and c) the political stalemate between the government and opposition groups. Figures like Sheikh Bashir Ahmed-Salad Warsame, Sheikh Nur Barud Gurxan, Sheikh Ali Wajiz and Sheikh Somo were in the forefront. These clerics have historically supported the government, regardless of who has been the head of state. As a result, Al-Shabaab targets these clerics  and, hence, the government houses, feeds, and protects them.

Last year, one of these clerics, Ali Wajiz, was giving a Friday sermon at the mosque in Villa Somalia when the sermon suddenly degenerated into a shouting match. An opposition lawmaker had interrupted Wajiz for spewing venom against government critics. Wajiz went on a tear and asked the lawmaker to shut up. Then, the cleric accused the lawmaker of “taking bribes from the United Arab Emirates.”

The clerics at the April conference vowed to resist Al-Shabaab and called the group heretical. Sheikh Abdirahman Sheikh Omar from Minnesota warned the terror group that he and the other clerics would wage an all-out war against them “if the terrorists do not repent and lay down arms.”

Sheikh Hassan Jaamici, also from Minnesota, declared that he and other clerics were willing to go to Al-Shabaab and negotiate with them. If not, “I am willing to put on a military fatigue and fight them,” he added. His willingness to fight the group astounded Abdirahman Baadiyow, an advisor of the prime minister, who exclaimed: “Are you serious?” Jaamici answered, “Yes, I am serious.”

Sheikh Jaamici said he is an avowed supporter of President Farmajo’s government and his party’s slogan, N&N, which stands for “Nabad & Nolol” (Peace and Life). Then the cleric turned to the president, who was in the audience, and told a story about a government critic he had spoken to who was surprised that Jaamici was a supporter of N&N. “Do you know that N&N is in the Quran—specifically in Surat Qureish,” he said. Jaamici added that if Muslims followed the Sharia, they would get peace and life. Suddenly, there was an awkward silence and the statement set off sirens in some heads. Farmajo must have felt embarrassed because the wrench in his eyes was noticeable. No one in his government ever thought of linking the Quran to his party’s slogan of N&N, not in a million years. Unfortunately, the cleric’s dubious assertion, perhaps straining credulity, negates the real conditions of Mogadishu where neither peace nor viable life are far from being attainable. Paradoxically, Jaamici’s statement pointed to a far more insidious problem: the extent some clerics would go to in aligning themselves with the government. In a way, clerical criticism of the government is in short supply these days.

Several years ago and during the presidency of Hassan Sheikh Mohamoud, Sheikh Nur Barod Gurxan stood in a public gathering and lashed out at President Mohamoud for hiring “the worst kind of government officials.” The president, a hard-nosed, thick-skinned politician, smiled and remained unfazed. Mohamoud, with all his failings, was a different president who regularly met with the press, held public gatherings in which he was often taken to the cleaners, and did not eschew meeting with his subjects. These days, Sheikh Gurxan, though still a supporter of the government, dares not criticize the government publicly.

The intersection between politics and religion is not a new phenomenon. What is odd is when political power, as is manifested by the government, becomes beholden to glitzy social media where it is all style and no substance and where the government’s  main function of protecting and serving its people is relegated to the background.

Mogadishu: Maiming, Migration, Mutiny, and Malfeasance

For the last several weeks, Mogadishu has experienced a string of bombings by Al-Shabaab, a mutiny in certain divisions of the Somali National Army (SNA), a brawl in the Federal Parliament, and two diplomatic meltdowns in foreign affairs.

The spike of violence in Mogadishu in March alone was unprecedented, consisting of a barrage of bombings and political assassinations. “The situation in the city has gone from bad to worse,” said a former government official in the Ministry of Security. “People in the capital are very worried, including those in the government.”

The government’s response was akin to imposing a national emergency: it closed roads, undertook security sweeps in some neighborhoods, blamed Al-Shabaab and the opposition groups for fomenting and undertaking a terror campaign, and made a cosmetic leadership changes in the SNA, police, and intelligence services. Some politicians in the city voted with their feet by fleeing in droves to Nairobi for safety. The security situation in Mogadishu, a city of two million residents, was further mitigated by the closing of roads, thereby creating undue hardships on the daily lives of citizens. Likewise, the SNA and police were unable to safeguard the country due to issues of salary payments, desertion, mutiny, and the leadership crisis.

Mutiny in the Army

In March, 2019, Somalia experienced a mutiny by some soldiers in both the Lower Shabelle and Middle Shabelle regions. Some of these forces deserted their military bases because they hadn’t been paid for months and their food rations were cut off. The soldiers’ meagre salary of $100 per month added more anxiety by the delay in their salary payments. To add insult to injury, Prime Minister Hassan Kheyre was incandescent with anger. Kheyre denied the soldiers from getting their salaries and said that those who did not get their salaries are the ones who were not registered. Kheyre’s statement was contradictory because it acknowledged the existence of soldiers who have not yet been registered but were still working.  

Within a week of Kheyre’s  strong denials came another shocker. President Mohamed Farmajo gave a speech  to a group of military officers at the Defense Ministry and admitted in language that was clear, direct, and unequivocal that salaries have not been paid for four months. Instead of taking full responsibility for the government’s failure to pay its soldiers, he fulminated against the armed forces for not keeping their end of their bargain by wiping out Al-Shabaab in two years.

The soldiers’ mutinous acts raised questions about the inability of the federal government to defeat Al-Shabaab, which has been flexing its muscles by capturing more territories and intensifying its violent terror campaign in the capital. The situation was aptly captured by a short skit by Abwaan Dhiirane, a Somali comedian, titled, “A Neglected Soldier Cannot Defend a Nation.”

All These Military Promotions

Farmajo, critics say, weakened the army by promoting young, uneducated, and inexperienced officers. The president appointed Odowaa Yusuf Raage, a 31-year-old, as a Brigadier-General and army commandant. Raage lacks military officer training and experience. According to Mohamed H. Ingiriis, a doctoral candidate at the University Oxford who has also written academically about the Somali military, and is a fierce critic of Farmajo and his government, “Raage was first trained in Uganda as a VIP bodyguard for the presidential palace during the government of President Sheikh Sharif Ahmed, then be became a Major during the regime of President Hassan Sheikh. President Farmajo made him Lt. Colonel in 2018 and in that same year, he was promoted to Brigadier-General without ever becoming a full colonel.”

Brigadier-General Zakia Hussein Ahmed also serves as the deputy chief of national police. She is a young woman with only four years of experience with the force. According to Ingiriis, “Somalia is basically for mafia networks and their clan or marriage relations.” It is one thing to give leadership to the young but it is crude policy to set the young up for failure when they are thrust into leadership positions that they cannot handle. A current government advisor concurs with Ingiriis on the issue of military promotions.

Dr. Abirahman Baadiyow, an advisor to Prime Minister Kheyre, a former presidential candidate, and a former military officer in the government of Siad Barre, described an incident regarding the scarcity of qualified military officers in the country. Baadiyow once walked into the office of the president, who was flooded with a stack of case folders. “They are all folders of military officers waiting to be approved for promotions,” the president told him.

The government’s policy of promotions is: a) an attempt not to appreciate education and experience in favor of youth and inexperience; b) a gross undermining of military training, education, and hierarchy; and c) valuing loyalty over competency.

Robbing a Runner

Maryan Nuux Muuse, a young Somali runner, participated in a co-ed sports tournament on April 6, 2019. She was leading the race when suddenly she saw two other female runners in a military vehicle. Initially she thought they were injured, but several minutes later, Maryan was in for a big surprise:  she was informed that the two young ladies she saw in the military vehicle were declared the winners of the race. Shocked and dejected by what she saw as a blatant fraudulent act, Maryam went to the media and reported what she had witnessed.

Khadija Mohamed Diriye, Minister of Sports and Youth Affairs, issued a statement and promised an urgent investigation. After a few days, Maryan was officially declared as the winner of the race. She was elated and begrudgingly thanked the government. Maryam’s case seemed at best a minor incident in a city that was gripped by fear of terrorism, but it was  symptomatic of the larger issue: the extent to which the tentacles of corruption have permeated many facets of Mogadishu’s life.

Freelancing in Foreign Policy

Recently, Somalia has made headway in being elected to chair the meetings of the Arab League and the country improved relations with Ethiopia and Eritrea. Mogadishu has deftly handled Kenya’s recent periodic bullying tactics regarding the maritime dispute case between the two countries before the International Court, and surprisingly has shown diplomatic restraint regarding the Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni’s penchant for repeatedly calling Somalia a “failed state.”

However, two diplomatic incidents rocked Somalia when Fadumo Mohamud, the country’s Ambassador to Switzerland, abstained from a United Nations resolution condemning Israel for annexing the Golan Heights in Syria, In response, Abdullahi Dool, then the Director of the Office of the Foreign Minister, tweeted: “I support the diplomatic ties between Israel and Somalia. It is long overdue. Establishing diplomatic relations does not harm anyone but promote peace and cooperation.” Dool was not yet finished. In another tweet, he condemned the “Palestinians” for being “worst enemies” to themselves and said that they should be “condemned each time they attack civilians. It is in our interest to welcome Israel.”

Since the 1960s, Somalia has always condemned Israel for occupying Arab territories; hence, the UN abstention seemed to be an anomaly. Somalia declared that the UN vote was a mistake and recalled Ambassador Mohamud from Geneva and fired Dool.  

Ambassador Mohamud was remorseful for her diplomatic snafu, according to some media reports, and was replaced with Ebyan Ladane Salah, the country’s ambassador to India. Regardless, Dool was defiant and unapologetic. He told The Times of Israel, “I am owed an apology.”

A Brawl in Parliament

Somalia’s federal parliament has lost its relevancy. Last year, President Farmajo orchestrated the removal of speaker Mohamed Jawari and Mohamed Mursal as his replacement. Whereas Jawari was defiant about the government’s attempts to make the legislature kowtow to the executive branch, Mursal is doing the regime’s bidding. Last month, parliament had to recess in one session because many politicians fled to Nairobi and hence there was no quorum. The biggest surprise was the brawl that took place several weeks ago when one legislator called another as “being an Al-Shabaab.” The accuser is a parliamentarian who is also a member of the cabinet. His dual roles are not strange because almost 65 legislators (out of 275) serve in the cabinet. The incident was a testament to the level of acrimony between government supporters in the parliament and opposition groups.

Within that week, another incident raised eyebrows in the legislature. Hussein Arab Isse, a legislator from what is now called Somaliland (a breakaway region), threatened that he and his colleagues from the north would leave parliament if the federal government does not include them in the talks between Hargeisa and Mogadishu. Left unsaid was the fact that Isse and his colleagues from the north cannot set foot in the very region they hail from because of their membership in the federal parliament. Moreover, the federal government has neither a strategy to deal with the secessionist region nor future plans for talks, and it remains  unclear why Isse would bring up the issue of Somaliland in the first place.

The dysfunction of the federal parliament is disheartening, as this body is unlikely to do its job of checks and balances. A government official said that more than 100 legislators receive a monthly stipend from the executive branch, ranging from $2,000 to several thousand—depending on one’s rank or importance. It is unfathomable that the current parliament will be an agent of change in the foreseeable future. Apart from a few opposition voices, it has become an extension of the executive committee.

In a nutshell, the situation in Mogadishu is disquieting. Last year, Farmajo described the opposition leaders as being “angry politicians.” However, now, there are soldiers, police officers, citizenry, Bajaaj operators, members of the international community, and some neighboring countries that are all angry. In short, the current state is an amalgam of security failure, inept leadership, poor planning, and—like a horror film—the worry about what will happen next. The situation in Mogadishu is so dire that the liberal interpretation of “Nabad” (Peace) and “Nolol” (Life) loses meaning.