From Al-Shabaab to Office: America’s Moral Collapse in Somalia – Suit, Tie, and a Past in Terror.
Does Washington really want to fight terrorism — or simply rebrand it when convenient? That question hangs heavily over the U.S. government’s recent outreach to two men whose names once defined extremism in the Horn of Africa.
Ahmed Moalim Fiqi, Somalia’s Minister of Defense, and his cousin Mukhtar Robow, Minister of Religion and Endowments.

Mukhtar Robow, Minister of Religion and Endowments whit the current Al-Shabaab leader
Both men were founders of Al-Shabaab, the militant organization responsible for years of carnage across Somalia and beyond.
Today, they are treated not as enemies of peace, but as partners in it.
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The irony is unbearable. These are not unknown figures or misunderstood reformers. Fiqi and Robow helped build the very movement that turned Somalia into one of the world’s most dangerous battlefields.
Their ideology shaped Al-Shabaab’s early doctrine; their networks once coordinated attacks that left thousands dead, displaced millions, and undermined every attempt at state-building.
Yet, with new titles and Western approval, they now appear on international stages as legitimate ministers of government — symbols of “inclusion” in the so-called fight against extremism.
It is difficult to imagine a clearer contradiction. Washington has spent decades declaring zero tolerance for terrorism, sanctioning anyone linked to Al-Shabaab or al-Qaeda. But now, the same individuals once accused of fueling the ideology are invited to coordinate “counterterrorism efforts.”
The moral confusion is stunning. When violent actors are welcomed into political office without accountability, what message does that send to those who resisted extremism, or to the families of the dead?
In truth, this is not diplomacy — it is political theater, and a dangerous one. By legitimizing men like Fiqi and Robow, the United States is teaching the region’s militants that power, not repentance, is the real path to redemption.
The lesson is corrosive: join terrorism early, survive long enough, and one day the world may call you “minister.” This normalization of violence under the banner of pragmatism undermines every principle Washington claims to defend.
Somalia’s tragedy is that its politics has become a revolving door between militia and ministry. The international community has tolerated this pattern for years under the illusion of stability.
But there can be no stability built on denial. You cannot outsource counterterrorism to those who once waged terror. You cannot cleanse extremism with a press release.
For Washington, the consequences stretch beyond Somalia. The credibility of the entire Western-led counterterrorism framework depends on moral consistency.
If the U.S. is willing to overlook a man’s militant past because he now holds a government post, then what distinguishes its alliances from opportunism?
A coalition that claims to fight ISIS and Al-Shabaab cannot quietly embrace their former architects when it suits short-term strategy.
There is another path — one grounded in integrity. Somaliland, despite lacking international recognition, has demonstrated that stability and democratic governance are possible without the stain of extremism.
Its disciplined security forces, elected institutions, and secular political culture offer a contrast Washington cannot ignore.
If the United States truly seeks trustworthy partners in counterterrorism, it should invest in those who embody the rule of law — not those who once destroyed it.
A suit and a flag do not erase blood. Political convenience cannot rewrite history. If Washington wishes to maintain credibility in the global fight against terrorism, it must draw a clear line between reconciliation and rehabilitation of extremists.
Otherwise, the world may come to see the “war on terror” not as a mission of justice, but as a revolving stage where yesterday’s militants become today’s allies — until the next betrayal.