Irro’s government decries Mogadishu’s incursions in Sool, vows decisive defense after years of failed dialogue.
For more than three decades, Somaliland has stood as a rare beacon of stability in the fractious Horn of Africa. After peacefully restoring its 1960 borders in 1991, it built democratic institutions, free elections, and a security apparatus that has kept militant groups at bay. Yet today, this peaceful republic grapples with a new—and deeply troubling—threat: a covert war waged by Somalia’s federal government and its proxies within Somaliland’s eastern regions.
As international partners remain conspicuously mute, Somaliland must ask a hard question: when does peace become surrender?
Since late 2023, Lasanod—the commercial hub of Sool region—fell to a coalition of militants linked to Somalia’s army. Under the banner of “SSC-Khaatumo,” these militants have sought to establish a rival administration inside Somaliland’s borders. Federal troops, arms shipments, and international aid intended for Somalia’s reconstruction have instead fueled this incursion, leaving ordinary Somalilanders displaced and under occupation.
This is not a border dispute between neighboring states, but an existential assault on a peaceful nation’s very right to self-determination.
Somaliland’s government, led by President Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi (Irro), has exhausted every peaceful channel. Clan-based reconciliation committees, mediated talks, and appeals to the African Union and United Nations have yielded only platitudes—and in some cases, tacit endorsement of Somalia’s “one-nation” doctrine.
Meanwhile, Mogadishu’s leaders exploit Somaliland’s goodwill, weaponizing international assistance to finance armed destabilization. Such duplicity shatters the principle that development aid must never underwrite aggression.
Western capitals have also contributed to this tragedy of neglect. The United Kingdom—Somaliland’s former colonial power and current penholder for Somalia at the UN—continues to adhere to the outdated “One Somalia” policy, sidelining a 5.5-million-strong population that has earned its peace through sacrifice.
The United States, once a vocal advocate for Somaliland’s democratic gains, now worries more about maintaining appearances at UN General Assembly sessions than confronting Mogadishu’s war machine. Gulf partners, who invested heavily in Berbera’s port and have championed Somaliland’s stability, have yet to translate that confidence into a robust diplomatic rebuke of Somalia’s incursions.
This silence carries consequences. By refusing to recognize Somaliland’s sovereignty, the international community denies the republic’s right to defend its territory. Worse, it sends a perverse signal to fragile federal systems elsewhere: aggression against peaceful neighbor-states will be met with nothing more than gentle reminders to “respect the sovereignty of borders.”
Yet Somaliland’s leaders remain committed to peace—right up to the threshold of armed defense.
In the emergency Council communiqué of 2 August 2025, ministers reaffirmed their “principled commitment to peaceful engagement,” even as they declared any further external interference “will be met with firm, proportionate, and lawful resistance.”
These are not idle words. With a constitution that enshrines the right to self-defense and a populace ready to guard their hard-won democracy, Somaliland stands prepared to counter aggression on land, in the courts, and in diplomatic arenas.
What’s needed now is international resolve. The UN Security Council must condition any easing of Somalia’s arms embargo on verifiable assurances that weapons will not be diverted against Somaliland.
The African Union should activate its 2005 fact-finding mission’s recommendation to recognize Somaliland’s unique path to statehood, rather than fear a “Pandora’s box” of secession. Western governments must recalibrate policies that privilege a collapsing Mogadishu over a functioning, democratic partner in Hargeisa.
Somaliland is not bluffing when it warns that continued inaction risks regional collapse. Somalia’s failure state has drawn neighboring countries into proxy skirmishes; al-Shabab’s resurgence looms at the gates; vital trade routes through the Red Sea hang in the balance.
Supporting Somaliland’s sovereignty is not charity—it is strategic necessity. It protects a trading hub that links East Africa to global markets and undercuts extremist networks that thrive on chaos.
In a world beset by great-power rivalries, the Horn of Africa should not become another arena for silent appeasement of aggression. Somaliland’s peace-loving republic asks only for its own chance to live in peace.
If superpowers truly value stability, democracy, and the rule of law, they must listen—and act—before war finds them all unprepared.
