Consider Somaliland African Social Studies Series

Editorial Board Martin R. Doornbos, International Institute of Social Studies, The Hague Carola Lentz, University of Mainz John Lonsdale, University of Cambridge

VOLUME 26

The titles published in this series are listed at www.brill.nl/afss Consider Somaliland

State-Building with Traditional Leaders and Institutions

By Marleen Renders

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2012 Cover illustration: Three Elders in Erigavo, 2005 (by Ulf Terlinden)

The publication of this study was made possible with a grant from the Conflict Research Group of Ghent University.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Renders, Marleen. Consider Somaliland : state-building with traditional leaders and institutions / by Marleen Renders. p. cm. -- (African social studies series ; v. 26) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-21848-2 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Somaliland (Secessionist government, 1991- )-- Politics and government. 2. Nation-building--Somaliland (Secessionist government, 1991- ) 3. Newly independent states--Africa, Northeast. 4. Somalia--Politics and government--1991- I. Title. II. Series: African social studies series ; v. 26.

DT407.4.R46 2012 967.73--dc23

2011042628

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ISSN 1568-1203 ISBN 978 90 04 21848 2 (paperback) ISBN 978 90 04 22254 0 (e-book)

Copyright 2012 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhofff Publishers and VSP.

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Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. To Stefan, Kato and Fien CONTENTS

List of Abbreviations ...... xi List of Illustrations ...... xiii Acknowledgements ...... xv A Note on Somali Orthography and Transliteration ...... xvii

Introduction: Places That Do Not Exist ...... 1 A. State-Making in Somaliland...... 2 B. Data Collection ...... 5 C. Plan of the Book ...... 9

I Challenging Received Notions of Statehood, State Failure and State-Building ...... 13 A. Defĳining a State: Somaliland’s Claim to Statehood ...... 15 B. Failing What? ...... 17 C. Persistent Anachronisms ...... 21 D. Anachronisms as Patches for State Failure ...... 22 E. Invented Traditions and the Making of African States: A Two Way-Process ...... 25 F. State-Making Reconsidered: Bringing Politics Back in ...... 27 G. Concluding Remarks: Concepts, Discourse and Politics ...... 29

II The Failing State. What Has Clan Got to Do With It? ...... 33 A. The Somaliland Protectorate and the Introduction of the Modern Nation State ...... 35 B. Colonial Administration and State Building ...... 42 C. Clanship Mediated Politics in Cold War Somalia ...... 45 D. Concluding Remarks: Failed State Building? ...... 57

III The Emergence of the Somali National Movement as a Clan-Supported Opposition Force ...... 59 A. Growing Oppositions in the Northwest ...... 60 B. Becoming Isaaq ...... 72 C. SNM Fighting in the Northwest ...... 79 D. Concluding Remarks ...... 85 viii contents

IV Clan Elders and the Forging of a Hybrid State ...... 87 A. The Role of Clan Elders in the Undoing of the SNM ...... 87 B. SNM Heartland: Clan Elders’ Negotiating Power over State Resources ...... 96 C. Peace, Governance and State Outside the Isaaq Heartland ...... 104 D. Conclusion ...... 115

V “At the Centre of Peace and War”: Pragmatic State Building Under the Egal Government, 1993–1997 ...... 117 A. Somaliland and UNOSOM II ...... 117 B. The Airport War ...... 126 C. Regime Consolidation Via War … and ‘Traditional’ Peace Making ...... 140 D. Concluding Remarks ...... 150

VI Looking Like a Proper State ...... 153 A. The Hargeysa ‘Clan Conference’ and the End of Clan-Based Representation ...... 154 B. Undoing Local Governance Arrangements While Outsourcing Security and Public Order...... 159 C. Centralising Symbolic and Material Resources ...... 168 D. Concluding Remarks ...... 174

VII Claiming the Eastern Borderlands ...... 177 A. The Dhulbahante and Somaliland ...... 178 B. Competing State Claims ...... 181 C. Shifting Sands and Loose Ends ...... 190 D. Concluding Remarks ...... 194

VIII Egal’s Political and Institutional Tailpiece ...... 197 A. The Referendum on the Draft Constitution and the Introduction of the Multi-Party System ...... 198 B. The Opposition Sultaans...... 204 C. Toward the First Election ...... 211 D. Conclusion ...... 221

IX Somaliland as a Model for Building Proper States? ...... 225 A. Transitioning into the Post-Egal Era ...... 228 B. The Elections: Clan Politics Through the Back Door ...... 236 contents ix

C. Somaliland after the First Round of Elections under the Multi-party System ...... 255 D. Conclusion ...... 263

Bibliography ...... 267 Index...... 283 LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

ASAD Alliance for Salvation and Democracy ECHO European Commission Humanitarian Aid and Civil Protection EU European Union HPO hybrid political order IGAD Intergovernmental Authority on Development MOD Maheran–Ogaden–Darood NEC National Electoral Commission NSS National Security Service OAU Organisation of African Unity RPAPL Regulation of Political Associations and Parties Law SAPD Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development SNM Somali National Movement SRRC Somali Reconciliation and Restoration Council SSDF Somali Salvation Democratic Front TFG Transitional Federal Government TNA Transitional National Assembly TNG Transitional National Government UCID Justice and Welfare Party UDUB Democratic United People’s Movement UN United Nations UNCAS United Nations Common Air Services UNDP United Nations Development Programme UNOSOM United Nations Operation in Somalia UNSC United Nations Security Council Resolution USD United States dollar USP United Somali Party USSR Union of Socialist Soviet Republics WSLF Western Somali Liberation Front LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Figures

Map of Somaliland...... xxi Clan Genealogy of the Isaaq...... xxii

Tables

1 Overview of Peace Conferences in Somaliland 1991–1993 ...... 106 2. Somaliland 2002 Local Council Election Results, by Region ...... 238 3. Presidential Election 2003, Results per Region, and Share of each Region in National Vote ...... 245 4. Parliamentary Election 2005, Results per Region, and Share of each Region in National Vote ...... 253 5. Parliamentary Election 2005, Distribution of Seats ...... 254 6. Presidential Election 2010, Results per Region, and Share of each Region in National Vote ...... 258 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

“If you want to dismantle a hedge, remove one thorn bush at the time,” a Somali saying goes. In the protracted efffort of dismantling this one, many have come to my assistance. I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to them, without, of course, placing responsibility on anyone but myself for errors or misjudgements that undoubtedly remain in this fĳinal product. This is the end point of a long journey. I give special thanks to the late Prof. Gerti Hesseling (University of Utrecht, Afrika Studie Centrum, Leiden), who spurred the process of writing and publishing this book while at the same time exercising her natural authority urging me to— more than anything else—enjoy life. A major portion of the data presented and analysed on the following pages was gathered during PhD research fĳieldwork in Somaliland and Nairobi. I would like to thank some of the (then) stafff of the Delegation of the European Commission, UNDP, embassies, universities and international NGOs in Nairobi who helped me during the initial stages of my research: Poly Stevens, Frank Warnier, Rolf Grafe, Rudi Oltmans, Naglaa Elhajj, the Jibriil family, Rachel Spronk and Victor Kraak, Gary P. Jones, Tesfaye Legesse, and Chome Abdi Khamiis. At the Central and East Africa regional offfĳice of War-Torn Societies Project in Nairobi I would like to thank the late Dr. Farah, Abdirahman Raghe, Rubina Haroon and Matt Bryden. In Somaliland I owe a great deal to the reliable services of Yasiin Kahin (alias ‘Yankee Kilo’). Special mention also for Yusuf Osman Musse from Bur’o and Abdillahi from Las Anod who facilitated visits to these respective towns. With respect to the visits to Bur’o I would also like to thank Hassan Buur, Dr. Aden Yusuf Abokor, Ahmed ‘Goo,’ Yusuf Awale and Hussein ‘Kenyatta.’ In Las Anod I would like to thank the people at the local offfĳice of Norwegian People’s Aid: Osman, Shukri and the late Khalifo. In Borama I thank Ahmed Haashi Abiib and Dirris. At the International Refugee Committee offfĳice in Hargeysa I am grateful to Donna Greig and Peter von Oy, who, upon fĳinding me sick, exhausted and on a tight budget in a basic Hargeysa hotel, gave me a spare room and home-cooked meals at the IRC guesthouse. xvi acknowledgements

Finally, in Somaliland I am very obliged to the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development as well as to each of the stafff and the researchers working there. My work would not have been possible without their guidance and assistance. I particularly want to thank Hussein Bulhan and (in alphabetical order) Abdirahman Jim’ale ‘Dherre,’ Abdirahman Yusuf Artan, Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ Jafar, Mohammed ‘Awoowe,’ Mohammed Hassan Gani ‘Sheikh’ and Su’ad Ibrahim Abdi. Back in Europe, I would like to thank my colleagues of the Horn of Africa Study group, especially, Tobias Hagmann, Markus Höhne and Ulf Terlinden for their help and for their feedback on earlier articles and working papers. The article Ulf and I wrote in Development and Change helped to develop my thinking on Somaliland politics further. I also thank my former colleagues at the Centre for Third World Studies at Ghent University, especially Christopher Parker and my PhD supervisor, Prof. Ruddy Doom. The past four years I have been attached to the Human Rights Centre at Ghent University Law School. Deep, heartfelt thanks to all my colleagues there for their friendship and support in good and bad times. I will be forever grateful, in the professional as well as the personal realm, to Prof. Eva Brems. I can safely say that this book would not have seen the light of day without the help of Catherine Maternowska and Alan Harwood. Catherine picked me up where I had dropped (no small feat) and helped me plough through extensive manuscript editing. Alan Harwood, with his patient and generous manner, artfully fĳine-edited the entire text, working to make me a better writer in the process. Finally, I would like to thank my extended family. My parents, Annemie Bartels and Wilfried Renders, have always encouraged and helped me with whatever I wanted to do. After having been given the best possible start in life—a loving home and a good education—I can still depend on them, even today. Thanks also to Martine Poppe. In spite of all the restless roaming in and out of Africa it is very obvious where home is—and that feels good: our neighbours and friends in Ghent’s Meibloemstraat, the Brugse Poort and and beyond the city walls, my sister Ingrid, brother Paul, the quintessential godfather Patrick. Tinne Kieckens, what would have become of me without you? And fĳinally: Stefan Deconinck. I would never have made it this far without your force tranquille that is with me all the time. This work is as much yours as it is mine: you are everything one could hope for in one’s com- panion in life and the most wonderful, kind and caring father for our daughters who brought us so much joy: Kato and Fien. A NOTE ON SOMALI ORTHOGRAPHY AND TRANSLITERATION1

The majority of the Somali population is illiterate. In Somaliland literacy rates are below 50%. This is why in the towns advertisements, billboards and shop fronts display very little writing. Businesses and shop owners prefer elaborate mural frescos to communicate what is on offfer in their store. Newspapers do exist, but they are not distributed outside the capital Hargeysa and they have very limited circulation. Nevertheless, Somali language is very rich. The Somali are widely reputed as a nation of poets. Professional poets are admired and feared for their skill. Traditionally, poems, messages and news more generally were transmitted orally, by word of mouth. News spread as nomadic groups moved around, meeting each other at wells, markets, mosques or other public gathering places such as the teashops in the permanent villages and settlements. Later on, radio became an important channel of information (and of government propaganda). The Somali are a so-called oral society, even exclusively so up to about thirty years ago. The Somali language was not written down until the 1970s. The issue of written Somali arose at independence in 1960. Up to that day, the Somali territories had been administrated by foreign powers using their own foreign tongues. Their Somali civil servants also worked in English or Italian respectively. At independence this of course became a problem: while the Mogadishu-based civil servants worked in Italian, the Hargeysa based civil servants worked in English. While the civil servants did not understand each other, the Somali citizens did not understand any foreign language at all. Creating a script for the Somali language thus became imperative. It would however, take more than a decade to materialise because the matter became a thorny political issue involving religious and clan-related squabbles. The most practical solutions seemed to simply use the Latin script. Somali has more vowels than consonants—used in diffferent combinations; the fĳive vowels of the Latin script could be made to approximate the Somali sounds and intonations. Moreover, using the Latin script the

1 Information in this section is compiled from: SAPD (2002b), Stille (2002) and WSP (2000). xviii a note on somali orthography and transliteration new Somali administration would be able to hold on to the old typewrit- ers of the colonial administrations, making the transition to the new era less of a logistical headache. The proposal to introduce the Latin script however, immediately met with fĳierce opposition from diffferent sides. Religious leaders opposed the Latin script as the language of the infĳi- dels and propagated the Arabic script instead, using the clever, catchy slogan “Laatiin, Laa Diin” (i.e. something amounting to “Latin” equals “without religion”). Somali nationalist intellectuals on the other hand, considered the Latin script as a residue of the colonial occupation. Twenty-one intellectuals attempted to create their own new indigenous Somali alphabet. Soon however, the respective scripts became associated with the clans of their creators, becoming all but totally unacceptable to the other clans. The discussion about the Somali script was ended by the military government of Siyyad Barre. On the 20th of October 1972, the third anniversary of the Revolution (the coup d’état against the civil government) Siyyad announced his decision with an appropriate sense of drama. The Somali president got a helicopter to drop thousands of coloured leaflets over the crowds who were lined up for the festive military parade. As people picked up the pamphlets, puzzling over what they meant and in which language they were written, the few literate people among them suddenly realised that they were written in Somali, using the Latin script. It was this script that henceforth would be used to write Somali. The move was followed by a mass literacy campaign. The Somali alphabet had to provide a solution for a number of sounds not used in English or Italian. A number of Latin signs were adapted to use for Somali. Throughout the book, words containing these signs may be found on maps or in tables, but not in the main text itself. I am aware that this comes with a trade-offf in terms of consistency, yet, considering that using the Somali spelling may complicate reading for non-Somali speakers, I have chosen to use the common anglicised spelling where it does exist and to use transliterations for the names of places, persons and concepts which have no pendant in English. In Somali spelling ‘c’ is a sound close to the Arabic ayn. It is used for example in Cabdi (the name), or Burco (the town). In this book, Cabdi will be written as Abdi. Burco will be written as Bur’o. The ‘x’ is, In Somali, pronounced as a hard aspirated ‘h.’ It is used for example in Xassan (the name) or xeer (Somali customary law). In this book Xassan will be written as Hassan. Xeer will be written as heer. a note on somali orthography and transliteration xix

Again, for the sake of readability, English rather than Somali plural forms will be used. For example Somali words such as suldaan (a titled traditional elder among the Isaaq) in English written as sultaan, will be not be written using the Somali plural suldaano but the English plural form sultaans. Idem for garaaddo (the plural of garaad, which will become garaads). Figure 1. Map of Somaliland. Adapted from Bryden (1994c). The map shows towns and smaller settlements that are mentioned in the book. It also shows the geographical distribution of the clans in Somaliland. It has to be noted that this distribution is approximate only. It is also not absolute. In many cases, more than one clan inhabits a given area. These are just historical indications. x Sheikh Isaaq x Haniifa Magaado

Habar Habuushheed Habar Magaadle

Habar Awal Ayyuub Garhajis Arap

Saad Musa Issa Musa ‘Idagale Si’iid

Jibriil Abokor Habar Yunis

Tolje’lo Habar Ja’lo Sambuur ‘Ibraan (Ahmed) (Muuse) (Ibraahin) (Mohammed)

Figure 2. Clan Genealogy of the Isaaq. Adapted from Bader (1999: 244). INTRODUCTION: PLACES THAT DO NOT EXIST

In the summer of 2005, the BBC broadcasted a series of features called Holidays in the Danger Zone: Places that Don’t Exist by the 33-year-old reporter, Simon Reeve. The idea behind the series was to visit a number of places that exist as countries, without being recognised by the international community as states. On his journey, Reeve made brief, light- hearted, entertaining fĳilmed sketches of obscure places such as Abkhazia, South Ossetia, Nagorno-Karabach and Trans-Dniestria. Less obscure but still an unrecognised state, Taiwan featured, too. All the countries high- lighted had declared independence after violent conflict and were surviv- ing—some, only just, but peacefully so; others as havens for terrorists, weapons smugglers and militias or armies ready for a fĳight. During an interview on the topic of non-nation states, Reeve insisted that his main inspiration for the series was the phenomenon of Somaliland (BBC 2005). In the fĳilm, Reeve takes the viewer to Mogadishu, the bombed-out capital of Somalia, still recognized by the international community as a state. Hostile and threatening, transport in the capital is surrounded by heavily armed guards. Anarchy is the order of the day: there is no law and no legality. Reeve proves it by procuring himself a Somali diplomatic passport from a professional passport-maker who has set up shop in Mogadishu. There is no national authority to issue passports. Neither is there a national authority to check passports: a sure sign of chaos. Reeve and his crew proceed to Hargeysa, the capital of Somaliland. There, the situation is very diffferent. Reeve marvels at the trafffĳic lights in the Hargeysa streets and the cars actually stopping for red lights; uniformed policemen ensure law and order in the streets. In a place that does not exist, there are clear signs of a government in Somaliland. Out of the ruins of Somalia, a new, organised and governed polity has appeared. I fĳirst arrived in Hargeysa in the winter of 2002. Somaliland authorities were receiving foreign visitors with great enthusiasm. Within hours after touchdown at Hargeysa airport, my passport stamped with a Somaliland visa, I was welcomed by the Somaliland Ministry of Information and National Guidance. The Minister himself, H.E. Abdillahi M. Du’ale, extended his hand to me. The Ministry was bustling with activity, even late in the afternoon, when most Somalilanders (at least the men) sit back and enjoy their tea and daily bundle of qaad. Minister Du’ale had one of 2 introduction: places that do not exist his aides show me around the buildings of Radio Hargeysa, located in the ministerial compound. As one of the Somali military regime’s offfĳicial propaganda stations, Radio Hargeysa had been destroyed in the 1980s during the Somali civil war. Twelve years later, it was rehabilitated, as the offfĳicial radio station of the Somaliland government, broadcasting to Hargeysa and its immediate vicinity. Ambition, however, reached much further. Minister Du’ale, seated behind his desk, going about the business of the day, occasionally glimpsing at CNN’s breaking news, left no reason for doubt: Somaliland was a state, and one worthy of offfĳicial international recognition. Making this clear to foreigners and, by extension, the international community was part of Du’ale’s mission. In what normally takes ages to reconcile, I was immediately issued an offfĳicial laissez passer as well as my research permit, and sent on my way to experience the reality for myself. Perhaps, the minister suggested, I could come back in two weeks for a Radio Hargeysa interview on my impressions of Somaliland?

A. State-Making in Somaliland

Ask about the origins of Somaliland in Hargeysa and the traveller, the journalist or the researcher is almost invariably served up the same account. Somaliland emerged in 1991 from the ruins of the collapsed Somali Republic, which for about two decades, had been under the dictatorship of Siyyad Barre. As a former British protectorate, Somaliland enjoyed brief independence—for fĳive days—in 1960, before it entered into a union with the former Italian Somali Trust Territory. It was an unhappy union. The Isaaq, the majority clan family in Northwestern Somalia (the former British Somaliland) were disadvantaged and marginalised and soon singled out for repression. Siyyad Barre started a war on the Isaaq, who reacted by establishing a guerrilla movement called the Somali National Movement (SNM). Other clans started guerrilla movements, too. The SNM guerrillas were recruited from the Isaaq clans and supported by the Isaaq traditional clan leaders. When the Barre regime fĳinally collapsed, the Somali National Movement took control over the Northwest. While the rest of Somalia descended into chaos, The SNM set up a provisional government which included the traditional clan leaders who had made the war against Siyyad Barre possible both logistically and fĳinancially. The provisional government also included politicians and traditional leaders from the defeated northwestern clans that had been siding with Siyyad. introduction: places that do not exist 3

As a polity, Somaliland began as an agreement between the diffferent clans and subclans of the Northwest. After two spells of intra-Isaaq civil war and elder-brokered peace agreements, Somaliland remained peaceful and proceeded to introduce a modern political system, while holding on to a formal political role for its traditional leaders. Somaliland has issued its own currency, set up a national police force and collected taxes to provide its citizens with basic public services. The traditional clan leaders have made the diffference after the collapse of the Somali Republic: without them, Somaliland would not have escaped the dire fate of southern Somalia. This narrative, Somaliland’s own founding myth, is carefully cultivated and amply broadcasted1. Somaliland is promoted internally and externally as a case of successful post-war political reconstruction.2 In contrast to other places that were subject to a more or less pervasive international intervention (e.g. Kosovo, East Timor, Afghanistan or indeed Iraq) Somaliland’s political reconstruction was driven by indigenous initiative, indigenous capital and indigenous political leaders. Moreover, the success of political reconstruction in Somaliland is associated with the involvement of ‘traditional’ leaders and institutions. This is what sets Somaliland apart from the much less successful attempts at reconstruction in the south of Somalia. In Somaliland there has been no descent into chaos, no fĳierce competition between warlords and guerrilla commanders, no mindless fratricide, no scramble for economic assets, but instead— allowing for the occasional setbacks—a careful, balanced process of peace-building and state-building which has lead to a legitimate and accountable government. A booklet published by the Somaliland Government (Republic of Somaliland 2001) identifĳied its recipe for success: The lesson was that the modern sector, armed and apparently omniscient, could not do without the support of the traditional sector … This succeeded and developed into a new concept unpractised by previous Somali governments … meaning an elected civilian government working in parallel with elders of the traditional sector. The prominence of traditional leaders and institutions in Somaliland’s success story of political and state (re)construction is the subject of this

1 This does not mean that the account is entirely untrue or made up. It just means that it is embued with a deeply ideological component. 2 It does so with quite some resonance abroad. See numerous (press) articles, among which Cornish (2003); Jhazbhay (2003); Shinn (2002); The Economist (2005); and Gettleman (2007). 4 introduction: places that do not exist book. My intention is to investigate and unravel Somaliland’s founding myth. How did Somaliland come into being? What did it grow to become? What exactly is meant by the ‘traditional’ sector on which the foundation of the Somaliland state is supposedly built? How has that happened, and what are the implications for other instances of state-building or reconstruction? These questions are increasingly relevant as international donors, intent on building democracy, are gearing up to involve ‘traditional’ or ‘customary’ institutions and law in their policies and programming. The idea behind this engagement is that states in the Global South, sufffering from a persistant lack of capacity and legitimacy can be made more capable, efffective and legitimate by embedding or blending locally grown traditional institutions into the formal governance systems (Clements, Boege, et al. 2007). My analysis of the Somaliland case contributes to the discussion of the merit of such approaches. In this new era of imposing democracies upon less than receptive governments and polities round the world, this analysis of a place (that doesn’t exist from one point of view) could expose the risks and benefĳits of such decisions on local, regional and global scales. This book can be read as a history of the early years of Somaliland that provides groundwork that may contribute to subsequent effforts by other researchers working on Somaliland history and politics. Yet, a micro- level analysis of this kind serves another, perhaps even more urgently needed purpose as well. It places concepts routinely used in social- scientifĳic and policy analyses squarely within a real-life situation. It lays bare the variable content of concepts such as ‘state’ or ‘traditional institution’ and the interactions between them. Political science, as a discipline, grapples with the content of these concepts: what is a state, and what is a traditional institution? How does one draw the line between the so- called formal and informal sphere? This analysis shows how aspects assumed to belong to the respective spheres of state or ‘traditional institutions’ are used, as well as manipulated, by actors in the fĳield. Setting and shifting conceptual borders, as I will show, is part of this political game. This story involves actors with competing political and economic interests. In the course of actual political negotiation and competition, borders between institutional spheres are not fĳixed. What exactly constitutes either a state or a ‘traditional institution’ is fluid and adaptable: they are dynamic concepts and entities. Formal and informal elements coexist, overlap, intertwine and influence each other. Institutions do not introduction: places that do not exist 5 exist in a socio-political vacuum. Neither do the actors concerned stick mechanically to their institutionally prescribed behaviour, discourse, and modes of action. They are hybrid themselves, pragmatically mobilizing discourses and strategies as they see fĳit. It is impossible to separate spheres neatly into formal and informal, or to classify actors neatly as state actors or informal non-state actors in the traditional sphere. Nor, I shall demonstrate, does it make sense to do so for analytical purposes. Institutions result from political processes involving an institutional bricolage by political actors, where there are no borders between formal and informal, state and non-state, etc.3 Boldly stated, the borders between these categories are analytically more or less irrelevant, because they are so porous. Politically, however, they are all but irrelevant. They are the very sub- stance of negotiation, conflict and competition. What does this observation imply for any external interventions pushing for democracy or good governance in polities around the world? It means that what you see is probably not what you get. The situation is likely to be much more complex than assessed or presented publically. The complex picture of Somaliland today is the reflection of a still ongoing multi-layered political process. Of course, complexity does not pre- clude involvement in the process. Yet, involvement inevitably makes one a player in the local political system, which, for better or for worse, has its own consequences and responsibilities.

B. Data Collection

Data collection in war-torn societies is inherently problematic. As a result, my fĳieldwork was split into three distinct, but interrelated phases during 2001–2002. My fĳirst fĳield trip in the context of this research, in May/June 2001, was diverted to Nairobi, since all major international organisations and aid agencies working in Somalia or Somaliland operated from there. At the time, interviews I conducted with policy makers and aid professionals (N=34) remained largely exploratory. Of fundamental concern was to fĳind an agency willing to provide reasonably safe transport and a safe environment to start my research in Somalia. I managed to set up work with the Puntland Development Research Centre (PDRC), the local afffĳiliate of the Geneva-based NGO War-Torn Societies Project (WSP).

3 Concerning institutional bricolage, please see also Cleaver (2002) and Hagmann and Péclard (2010). 6 introduction: places that do not exist

Headed by headed by Abdiraham Osman Shuke, PDRC was (and still is) located in Garowe-Puntland State of Somalia. WSP/PDRC seemed the odd one out in the Somali NGO and international aid scene. It was not involved in any classical relief or development work, focusing instead on working in war-torn societies engaging communities to work together and share ideas, skills and experience in order to generate local solutions in order to respond to problems of social, economic and political reconstruction. Through its programme of participatory action research, WSP had already assembled reports on grassroots level round tables, discussion forums and local discussion groups about specifĳic topics that helped me frame and specify my own research questions that I would use in my own interviews and informal discussions. Beyond these methodological considerations, WSP was also helpful with the expected red tape. I needed a visa and research permits, something I had not readily expected, in the context of a collapsed state. Puntland’s airports, however, were administered and controlled by the administration of the Puntland State of Somalia, headed by Colonel Abdillahi Yusuf. Eventually, my attempts to travel to Garowe, the Puntland capital were thwarted by an outbreak of conflict in July 2001 and by the possibility of retaliatory strikes on alleged terrorist hideouts in Somalia after the September 11 attacks in New York and Washington, D.C. In January-February 2002, with the Bush Administration’s fĳire power concentrated on Afghanistan, I set out for a second attempt to work with WSP Somalia. Because of its ongoing internal conflict Puntland was still not a viable option. So in consultation with the WSP Nairobi offfĳice, I shifted my attention to Somaliland. Interviews with key Somali informants in Nairobi, as well as further discussions with aid offfĳicials, focused my research on the role of traditional leaders and institutions in rebuilding and administering society and polity. International agencies had an avid interest in ‘traditional’ leaders at the time. And, in exchange for some consultancy work, I eventually found Norwegian People’s Aid–Horn of Africa Programme (NPA) willing to facilitate my passage to Somaliland. Arriving at Hargeysa Airport I linked up with NPA’s local facilitator, who also worked for scores of other NGOs and for the European Union. Yasin Kahin, a.k.a. ‘Yankee Kilo’ facilitated my work by securing a letter of introduction from the Somaliland Ministry of Information and National Guidance. Letter in hand, I thought I was on my way, through basic archival research on the origins of Somaliland and its institutions was no simple introduction: places that do not exist 7 task.4 Besides archival research I conducted in-depth interviews with a wide variety of people, ranging from local and international NGO personnel to local government offfĳicials in Hargeysa, Gabiley and Borama (N=57). Interviewees included government ministers, directors general of Hargeysa ministries, parliamentarians, politicians, academics, representatives of women’s organisations and private sector actors, such as manag- ers of local companies. Once approved, the interview settings were formal—in offfĳices, ministry headquarters or the unofffĳicial headquarters for political hob knobbing: the lobby of Hotel Maan-Soor, at the time the only international hotel in Hargeysa. As the bustling hub of political life in the capital the hotel was frequented by numerous politicians, UN and EU stafff, and Somalis from every corner of the country attending one of the countless workshops or seminars organised by aid agencies or local NGOs. At lunchtime, Somaliland politicians were likely to be found at one of two restaurants near the dry river bed which bisects the city: Haraf for Somali food or Ming Sing for Chinese. After a few weeks I felt suitably networked to embark on the next stage of my research, facilitated by the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development. My second round of fĳieldwork addressed the issue of Somaliland’s state-building in detail, with a specifĳic interest in the evolution of the eastern regions, Togdheer and Sool. I wanted to investigate the realms of the state and the clan system respectively. Interviews (N=41) were held with politicians, ‘traditional’ leaders and religious leaders, sometimes in

4 Collecting material on the origins of Somaliland, its state and non-state institutions, and interviews on the topic constituted a vital foundation to the research as written institutional histories were few, apart from scattered pieces of ‘grey’ literature such as situation reports, programme outlines and evaluations of international agencies. The grey literature generated by international agencies, is not kept systematically on fĳile if a situation report or a memo is outdated, it becomes ‘useless’ and rather than being archived, disposed of. Some of it is still lying around in the documentation centre at the UNDP Somalia headquarters in Nairobi. Particularly helpful however, were archives found in the small documentation centre of the Somaliland Academy of Peace and Development in Hargeysa. I also found older local press overviews compiled by the Swedish Life and Peace Institute in the Horn of Africa Bulletin and by the Indian Ocean Newsletter—both sources were cross checked with data from interviews. Local written material seemed virtually non-existent, whatever material which was not destroyed in the civil war and subsequent rounds of fĳighting was very fragmentary and almost always in some person’s private possession. The archives of the SNM, un-catalogued stacks of paper containing documents (some hand- written) like minutes of meetings and conferences, were kept by the former Secretary of the Central Committee at his home. The same is true for later episodes of Somaliland history. For example, one person only took the efffort of keeping records of ministerial reshuf- fles—he simply wrote them down in notebooks which he kept at his house. Offfĳicial records, it seemed were all but non-existent or inaccessible. 8 introduction: places that do not exist formal settings, though often at the interviewees’ homes or meeting places. Interviews in the morning were in formal settings—in the ministry or the offfĳice of the person concerned while interviews in the evenings were often in the comfort of a home or a public place. In fact the divide between morning and early evening, public and private became an increasingly clear reflection of Somaliland’s complexity. An offfĳicial in a suit would tell me in the morning how Somaliland was a modern state, where clans and elders were now not involved in state matters, and then, often the very same actor in the afternoon would explain the national politics of his clan. Interviews in the afternoons (unless the interviewees were religiously inclined or women) often happened by invitation to the subject’s house, with the subject invariably chewing qaad, alone or with friends or colleagues.5 Although qaad sessions are reputed to be good places to pick up clan and tribal gossip, I was more concerned with institutional politics. Rather than looking at local power networks and how they were articulated with ‘national’ ones, I was interested in what institutions regulated what kinds of issues and at which levels in particular stages of Somaliland’s political development. For example, which institutions were called up to regulate a land dispute, a murder or a taxation issue? And how were these issues resolved? The stages of Somaliland’s political development were further explored in the third and fĳinal phase of my fĳieldwork, conducted in the spring of 2003. Matters became more complicated than anticipated the week I arrived in Hargeysa, when the Bush administration started bombing Baghdad. The war in Iraq led to the precautionary and compulsory evacu- ation of all non-essential foreign stafff from Hargeysa and Somaliland. Although most Somalilanders were following the news on radio and TV, the upcoming Somaliland presidential election seemed to carry far more importance than whatever was happening in Iraq. However, these events

5 Afternoon qaad-chewing sessions are usually an exclusively male afffair. Yet as I was an outsider to Somali society neither my hosts nor any of their guests seemed at any time to object to my being present. While male colleagues/researchers in politics or anthropology routinely participate in these sessions, I did not since ‘eating qaad’ is considered improper for women. This decision may, or may not, have had an influence on what participants were willing to discuss or volunteer. The same goes for other gender related issues, most notably my attire as a female interviewer in Somali Muslim society. While in the government quarters of Hargeysa, I was able to wear loosely fĳitting clothes which kept arms and legs covered; in public areas such as markets I wore a long dress and covered my hair. In Sool region, I dressed as an urban Somali woman would, fully covered, except for my face and hands. introduction: places that do not exist 9 meant that I was more constrained in my movements than during my second fĳieldwork phase, was partly due to my own concerns for safety since I was living and working in a post-war zone. During this third phase of fĳieldwork I focused on a limited number of transitional moments, notably Somaliland’s two series of peace conferences and the introduction of the multi-party system. This phase involved interviews (N=36) with ‘traditional’ leaders and elders who spoke only Somali, which often resulted in a double translation issue: one, linguistic; and the other, conceptual. I conducted interviews with the assistance of expatriate Somali professionals who had returned to Somalia after periods abroad and were now working for international NGOs and agencies. Interested in Somaliland’s recent history, they were happy to offfer their assistance, though their linguistic and conceptual translations may possibly have been clouded by their time abroad. In-depth interviews lasted for several hours and repeated interviews were often difffĳicult to schedule. Interviews outside of Hargeysa were laden with bureaucratic and safety issues. Thus, while I followed standard qualitative methods and keenly observed the participatory research of WSP, my understanding of the issues, based on archival, interview and observational data, was an iterative process.

C. Plan of the Book

In Chapter 1 I situate the reader in political science by reviewing the concepts of state, state failure and proposed remedies to repair that condition I frame the idea of repairing failed states with traditional institutions within the dominant development paradigm. An empirical (rather than a normative) analysis of state-building exposes the technocratic bias of this paradigm and brings politics and power to the centre of discussion. Chapter 2 examines Somali ‘traditional’ institutions, introducing the concept of clanship. The discussion of colonial and postcolonial Somali politics shows how the interplay between notions of ‘stateness’ and ‘clan’ has become the defĳining feature of modern Somali politics. In Chapter 3 I investigate the origins of the guerrilla movement that emerged in North- western Somalia during military rule. The Somali National Movement (SNM) began as an undertaking driven by excluded elites—mostly, yet not exclusively, from the Isaaq clan family. The chapter shows how SNM’s evolution into the Isaaq clan-based popular movement was, to a considerable extent a result of Somalia’s military ruler’s choice of tactics against 10 introduction: places that do not exist his opposition. Chapter 4 investigates the consequences of SNM’s changed nature and the efffect this had on the popular movement, and on the prospects for a government in Somaliland during the post-civil war era. It is then that traditional clan leaders and institutions became highly visible both within SNM and in the northwest, and importantly when the Somali state retreated and ultimately imploded. Traditional leaders reafffĳirmed themselves as leaders of their local communities. At the same time political actors in the northwest redefĳined ‘traditional’ institutions by introducing them into new political contexts. I will show how these new ‘traditional’ institutions displaced the political structures of SNM in the newly independent Somaliland. The fact that the initial Somaliland state formation was clan-based and driven by political actors who worked through transposed ‘traditional’ institutions allowed it to incorporate non-Isaaq clans into the new polity as well. In Chapter 5 I show how further development in Somaliland was characterised by the ever-increasing incorporation of and control over ‘traditional’ leaders and institutions by the state. As a testimony to this process, I examine how the Somaliland president, as a political leader elected by representatives of the Somaliland clans, was able, through skil- ful manipulation of loyalties, allegiances and incentives, to renegotiate and reconfĳigure power relations between political players to the advantage of the offfĳice of the president. The outcome of this history, i.e. the particularity of the Somaliland state, is discussed in Chapter 6. While the state apparatus expanded, deploying activities and establishing control in spheres that had previously been regulated by ‘traditional’ leaders, this extension had limits. The government was not in a position—in terms of capacity, legitimacy or military might—to enforce public order. This problem was solved by subcontracting peace and security to ‘traditional’ leaders who act according to their own insights, albeit ultimately under government tutelage. The extension of state and consequently government activities and control, replacing the non-interventionist clan agreement that ruled Somaliland at fĳirst, exposed important diffferences between western Somaliland (inhabited by the Isaaq and the smaller Iise and Gadabursi clans) and the east, inhabited by the Darod clans. Chapter 7 investigates why and how ‘traditional’ leaders in the eastern regions have played a much less constructive role than those in the west and looks at the consequences for the local and ‘national’ situation as well as for the ‘traditional’ institutions and their role in peace-making. introduction: places that do not exist 11

In Chapter 8 the focus shifts back to the Somaliland’s national political scene. It tells how and why the Somaliland president, in his drive to extend control even further, pushed for the introduction of a multi-party system to replace the clan-based representation system. The account of the run-up to Somaliland’s fĳirst elections provides an analysis of how opposition forces created an alliance with ‘traditional’ leaders against the introduction of a multi party system. The episode shows how clan elders lost their mediating role on the national level of politics while (largely clan-based) patronage pushed the system to its limits. Chapter 9 investigates the immediate efffect the transition to the multi- party system had on politics in Somaliland. Would multi-party democracy undo clan-based patronage? Did the new political system result in new checks and balances, replacing the former mediating role of the elders? And fĳinally, I look at Somaliland’s evolving statehood and the consequences for state-building debates or policies in the Horn of Africa and beyond. CHAPTER ONE

CHALLENGING RECEIVED NOTIONS OF STATEHOOD, STATE FAILURE AND STATE-BUILDING

Hargeysa International airport boasts a reasonably un-potholed tarmac runway. In front of the main airport building and the trafffĳic tower there are two small fenced areas, one for departing and one for arriving passengers. Departing passengers waiting for their flights try to make themselves comfortable, sitting on their elaborate luggage, munching snacks. Some cover their ears when yet another old Russian Iljusjin aircraft prepares for take-offf, taxiing to the runway with roaring engines in a haze of dirt, dust and kerosene fumes, on its way to Mogadishu, Djibouti, Dubai or Addis Ababa. Many of these flights are operated by a private company Daallo Airlines, based in Djibouti but founded by two Somaliland investors in 1991. They are not renowned for their comfort or safety. People complain about the aircraft being extremely noisy, badly ventilated and over- crowded. Nevertheless, trafffĳic is heavy because many families have relatives abroad. An estimated fĳive hundred million US dollars are remitted to Somaliland annually (Ahmed 2000: 380). Business with other countries in the region is intense. In Hargeysa’s shops and markets you can buy almost anything, from medicine to any imaginable electrical appliance. But liter- ally everything, apart from some locally produced foodstufffs (such as meat or fruits), is imported. Passengers arriving at the airport are ushered to the immigration desk, a chaotic offfĳice in the back of the main building where customs offfĳicials, police, baggage handlers, passengers and facilitators of international visitors compete for space and attention. Visas are mandatory, with all visits cleared before arrival in Hargeysa. One can apply for one at Somaliland missions abroad, in Washington, Paris, Addis Ababa or London. Inter- national visitors usually get clearance through the organisations they work for, since there are few tourists. International agencies and organisations represented in Somaliland include the European Commission, several UN agencies and a plethora of international NGOs. Most operate from Nairobi with an in-country branch in Hargeysa. Small aircraft operated by UNCAS (the United Nations Common Air Services) or Echo Flight (European Commission Humanitarian Aid and Civil Protection) serve the 14 chapter one agencies’ operations in Somalia, flying in aid workers to Mogadishu, Baidoa, Belet Weyne, Bossaso, Garowe, Las Anod or Hargeysa. The international experts usually take their return flights soon after a quick technical appraisal of the local situation. In Hargeysa expatriate presence, is steadier, as the agencies consider it to be safer than “the rest of Somalia.” On more than one occasion aid offfĳicials have been declared persona non grata for denying Somaliland’s claim to independent statehood (Reindorp and Wiles 2001: 44). Some have even been deported. On the wall of the immigration offfĳice hangs the ubiquitous picture of the president of Somaliland and a big map featuring Somaliland’s regions, main roads, cities and economic activities. The borders of the map are those of the old British Somaliland protectorate, to which Somaliland claims to be the successor state. After visas are cleared, travellers move to a small bus-stop-cum-taxi stand outside the airport. Small, rusty and bat- tered billboards advertising banking services and airlines greet the traveller. Flagpoles flying the Somaliland flag (rather than the Somali flag, used in Mogadishu) complete the picture. Until now, there is nothing to alert the unsuspecting traveller that he has just crossed anything else than a national border. To paraphrase Bryden’s “banana test” for Somaliland: if it looks like a banana, smells like a banana, and tastes like a banana, it is surely a banana. By extension: if it looks like state, smells like a state and tastes like a state, it probably is a state (Bryden 2003). Or is it? What exactly is a state? Defĳining and assessing statehood is far from just a scholarly pursuit. ‘Somaliland’ and ‘Somalia’ are cases in point. Somaliland looks like a state but is not recognized as such. Somalia no longer looks like a state, but it is one on the world map. What are the criteria for statehood? Who sets those criteria? And what about entities that apparently do not fulfĳil them, not only legally, but also conceptually? The related notions of state failure and state reconstruction or building have featured very prominently in Western aid paradigms and discourse since the end of the Cold War. Failed states are seen as a threat to security and development. Therefore, in principle, interventions to have states comply with some kind of criteria are warranted. In this aid and intervention paradigm, some local colour in the form of ‘indigenous institutions’ is allowed in order to support faltering states and markets. Indeed, today they are even considered potentially benefĳicial so long as the institutions fĳit into a liberal market-driven logic. Furthermore, however scholarly flawed, the state-building paradigm has served as an ideological tool to support the ‘right’ of core states of the capitalist world-system (‘the West’) to govern and/or control its troublesome borderlands to the south or east challenging received notions of statehood 15

(Wallerstein 2000). Yet, this strategy is not fully under the control of those who devised it. Political actors in the borderlands do not simply undergo external political, or even military pressure to adopt ‘proper’ statehood, ‘democracy’ and ‘good governance.’ They engage with it.

A. Defining a State: Somaliland’s Claim to Statehood

Despite relentless effforts on the part of successive Somaliland governments, twenty odd years after its 1991 declaration of independence Somaliland has not yet attained offfĳicial recognition as a member of the international community of states. Throughout the years, Somaliland’s foreign ministers and other government offfĳicials have built up impressive records of foreign travel promoting the cause of recognition. Somaliland has opened representation offfĳices in Djibouti and Addis Ababa as well as in London, Washington, Rome and more recently Paris. No effforts have been spared to satisfy foreign visitors that Somaliland has all the attributes of statehood. To no avail so far. When does an entity qualify to be called a state? Looking at common interpretations of International Customary Law, the answer to this question looks straightforward enough. Despite its anomalies and shortcomings, the classical defĳinition of an entity that may be regarded as a sovereign state was set by the 1933 Montevideo Convention on Rights and Duties of States.1 A claim to statehood requires a permanent population, a defĳined territory, a government and the capacity to enter into relations with other states. Somaliland offfĳicials have argued that measured against these criteria, Somaliland most certainly qualifĳies. First, it claims a defĳined territory. Somaliland claims the borders of the former British Somaliland Protectorate. After the abolition of the Protectorate on the 26th of June 1960, Somaliland became an independent and sovereign state, which fĳive days later, on the 1st of July 1960 merged with the former Italian Somali colony. What happened 31 years later, Somaliland argues, is the revocation of that voluntary merger: Somaliland simply reclaimed its 1960 borders. Within those borders allegedly 3.5 million inhabitants reside permanently. Manifestations of government are legion. Somaliland clearly has a functioning government claiming control over the entire territory. Finally, Somaliland jumps at every opportunity to enter into relations with other states.

1 For a discussion on those anomalies and shortcoming see Grant (1999). 16 chapter one

These arguments are corroborated by international analysts such as International Crisis Group (ICG). Yet, ICG also points to the problem at hand. Somaliland is legally part of a previously recognised state: Somalia. Under these circumstances the Montevideo criteria cannot be considered in the abstract. Moreover, as becomes clear from the text of the Convention, the actual recognition of a state is a political decision, not a legal one. Recognising Somaliland would imply taking apart Somalia. Traditionally, territorial integrity has been given heavy weight when it comes to recognition of new states, due to a general concern that adjust- ments in borders or status of a territory can trigger a cascade of border claims and open a Pandora’s Box of territorial competition and war. African states do not seem to be inclined to recognise Somaliland. Apart from geopolitical reasons informing the reluctance of Somalia’s close neighbours, there exists a long-standing consensus on the continent of the sanctity of colonial borders, a principle enshrined in the founding charter of the Organisation of African Unity (presently the African Union) (ICG 2006: 10).2 There are only very few instances in which borders have been modifĳied: most recently Eritrea and Ethiopia became separate states in 1993, after a UN-organised referendum in Eritrea and with the consent of Addis Ababa. A referendum was held in Southern Sudan in early 2011, with the (however awkward) consent of the Khartoum government. In the case of Somaliland however, negotiating with or obtaining consent from Mogadishu would be deeply complicated by the fact that for the past 17 years Somalia has had incapacitated governments precariously propped up by the international community and residing in exile or confĳined to a few blocks in Mogadishu protected by foreign armed forces. According to the International Crisis Group analysts, this makes for an apparently paradoxical situation: Somaliland meets the Montevideo criteria, yet, it remains unrecognised. Somalia, the larger country in which Somaliland is still legally embedded, in many ways does not meet the criteria but it remains a recognised entity (ICG 2006: 11). Internationally acclaimed academics, policy watchers and policy makers have picked up on the Somaliland recognition cause, pointing to the fact that Somaliland as a political entity has state-like capacities and capabilities that Somalia does not have and that recognition would be in order (Herbst 2004; Shinn 2002). Supporting the recognition cause, New York Times op-ed column- ist Nicholas D. Kristof (2007) called Somaliland “a land of camel milk and

2 Regarding geopolitical reasons for non-recognition, see: Shinn D (2002). challenging received notions of statehood 17 honey.” Moreover, some have argued that Somaliland, in view of its capabilities and state-like qualities in a politically volatile context riddled with chaos and anarchy (i.e. Somalia), should become an ally in United States security interests in the region (Pham 2008). These observations and arguments are keenly reiterated by Somaliland government offfĳicials. In a 2008 interview with Reuters news agency Somaliland’s president declared to having proposed to visiting American diplomats that Somaliland host a US Navy base at Berbera (Reuters 09/04/2008). Reportedly, the Somaliland Coast Guard frequently cooper- ates with the US forces stationed in Djibouti to curb piracy in its territorial waters (al-Motari 2008). “We’re trying our best to fĳight the terror. We’re the only Muslim country that has that in the constitution,” the Somaliland president told Reuters. Against the backdrop of US international policy focused on security and anti-terrorism, Somaliland offfĳicials keep throwing back the question: why recognise a malfunctioning state like Somalia and fail to recognize an obviously functioning one like Somaliland? Mohamed Daar, the Somaliland representative to the European Commission has stated this position emphatically in the International Herald Tribune (18/05/2008): “We are more stable than many of the quasi states around us.” In sum, Mohamed Daar’s remark points to two aspects of statehood that do not naturally coincide. On the one hand, a state is something that looks like a state and functions like one. On the other hand, a state is something that is recognised as such by other state governments. Some entities that appear to function like states and claim to be states are simply not recognised as such. In some of the literature they have been called ‘de facto states’ (Pegg 1998). Somaliland, according to Daar, is one of them. On the other hand, some entities are recognised as states but do not function like ‘proper’ states. This is usually made clear in much of the academic and policy literature by adding qualifĳiers such as ‘weak,’ ‘vacuous,’ ‘quasi’ or indeed ‘failed.’ The obvious example is Somalia, which is generally considered to be the quintessential failed state (Gros 1996; Coyne 2006). But then, what exactly is a failed state? What are the underlying notions of statehood on the basis of which state-failure is observed?

B. Failing What?

The concept ‘failed state’ was fĳirst coined in the early 1990s, when after the fall of the Berlin Wall the cessation of budget support to US and USSR 18 chapter one partner countries was followed by a series of apparently sudden political implosions in places like the Balkans, Haiti, Rwanda, Cambodia and of course Somalia. The term was made popular by the then United States Ambassador to the United Nations, Madeleine Albright, and has lingered in academic and policy discourse ever since (Gros 1996: 45). The principal focus of most of the literature concerning failed states is state capability—the extent to which a state is able to deliver positive political goods to its citizens (Hill 2005: 145).3 States are categorized and ranked according to their capability to do so. Successful states are the ones that are able to deliver on the provision of security, law and order (i.e. the state has a monopoly on legitimate use of violence) and welfare. Those weak on these counts are ‘quasi’ or ‘weak’ states (Jackson 1990; Zartman 1995; Rotberg 2003). The ones at the bottom, i.e. the failed states are not able to deliver anything at all to their citizens. An example of such a ranking exercise is the yearly Failed States Index compiled by Foreign Policy—tellingly illuminated with images captioned “Postcards from Hell.” The index divides the world’s states in fĳive categories: ‘critical,’ ‘in danger,’ ‘borderline,’ ‘stable’ and ‘most stable.’ The cate- gorisation is conducted on the basis of twelve indicators (social, economic as well as political), intended to measure state capability and listed as: “demographics, refugees, illegitimate governments, brain-drain, public services, inequality, group grievances, human rights, economic decline, security forces, factionalized elites and external intervention.” Inter- estingly, the vast majority of the world’s states fall within the ‘critical,’ ‘in danger’ or ‘borderline’ zone. As for the African continent, all states fall within these three categories (Foreign Policy 2010). Looking at Foreign Policy’s Failed States Index, one could rightfully ask: if most states apparently do not fĳit the criteria, then what is the point of defĳining a state by those criteria? The standards by which states are assessed are derived from the ideal-typical, rational-legal state apparatus as described by the German sociologist Max Weber in his 1922 work The theory of social and economic organization (Weber 1947). The only states that fĳit the criteria today are overwhelmingly European (and by extension states in North America, Australia). Yet, their state apparatuses served as references for the construction of the ideal-type in the fĳirst place. It is hardly surprising that they should fĳit it more closely than others (Eriksen s.d.: 6). Although in the realm of policy the notion of state failure has

3 The capability approach was pioneered by Migdal (1988). challenging received notions of statehood 19 hardly withered, it did attract some academic criticism on the basis of its a-historical and ideologically biased foundations. Scholars have notably criticised the stubborn perception that states world-wide are supposed to converge naturally toward the model of a liberal nation-state. This perception denies the historical evolution that European states have gone through themselves. The kind of state that emerged in Europe is a product of European (‘Western’) history, itself riddled by war, military expansion, and economic exploitation (Tilly 1992). Expecting the European state as the only possible end product of world history is bound to produce mostly deeply imperfect products: “states are identifĳied as failed not by what they are, but by what they are not, namely successful in comparison to Western states” (Hill 2005: 148). However unsuccessful according to Weberian standards, states world-wide are the outcome of diffferent historical processes. Considering them as ‘imma- ture,’ ‘pre-modern,’ ‘fragile’ or ‘failing’ is not analytically useful. It does not give any real insights into the nature of the polities under investigation (Hagman and Höhne 2007). Neither does it allow for the existence of polities that are not states, or claim to be states, but can to a certain extent be delivering for the public goods as well. In Somalia for example, apart from the instances of violent restructuring of political order in Mogadishu and other economically and politically strategic settings, the prolonged period of ‘statelessness’ has seen the development of a variety of local governance arrangements. They have involved coalitions of business groups, civic groups and traditional authorities. They have confĳigured arrangements in order to provide some of the public goods that the missing state no longer provides. Mostly, the arrangements seek to provide basic security, but some also extend to providing basic social services (Menkhaus 2006b). The relevance of the convergence thesis today is not analytical, but political: the Weberian state has evolved from an analytical concept developed by an early 20th century sociologist to a normative concept used in 21st century politics (Doornbos 2006: 193). That normative concept is referred to by Western, but also by non-Western political actors, claiming to comply. It has been argued that Western political actors have turned Weber’s analytic defĳinition into a normative one in order to legitimize Western supremacy over non-Western states and populations. Failed states analysts do what nineteenth and twentieth century colonizers did: they use the alleged deviancy of African states and societies in order to promote and justify domination by Western political and economic actors (Migdal and Schlichte 2005: 12; Hill 2005: 139). In the 20 chapter one hierarchy of states, failed or collapsed states, i.e. the ones most distant from the Weberian ideal, are the lowest of species, seen as requiring intervention of some sort in order to avoid a spill-over of perceived Hobbesian nightmares to neighbouring states or the rest of the world (Dufffĳield 1994: 5). The convergence thesis has become a convergence imperative. Failed (or failing, weak) states have to be fĳixed, because they are considered dangerous, representing a security threat as safe havens for terrorism, drug trade or other activities that may thrive in a lawless environment. Where political entities have failed to converge to the ideal of the liberal state, they have to be helped, or forced to do so: “stateness [sic] [then] has to has to be begged, borrowed, or stolen from other sources, ranging from multilateral agencies like the UN or the World Bank in such places as East Timor or Sierra Leone, the European powers running the Offfĳice of the High Representative in Bosnia, to the United States as an occupying power in Iraq” (Fukuyama 2005: 84). The international community is ready to facilitate or if need be enforce what Ottaway (2002: 1001) has called “a short cut to the Weberian state”. In case of collapse, a country has to be pacifĳied, and then the appropriate democratic institutions have to be built and made to work ‘properly.’ Non-western political actors pledge allegiance to the normative Weberian defĳinition as well. Looking at Somaliland’s Representative to the EU Mohamed Daar’s comment, the short-cut to the Weberian state is exactly what Somaliland claims to have achieved (‘the others are quasi states, we are not’). Moreover, the Somaliland government goes out of its way to broadcast to the international community that it does have control over its territory, that it does have functioning and efffective democratic institutions, that rule of law prevails. It is, as aptly phrased by The Economist (2005), “trying to behave like a proper state.” At least it tries to be seen as behaving like a proper state. Even if in reality, it does not (by a long shot) live up to the expectations inherent in that notion (as indeed is the case of the majority of states in the world), or even if political actors are not actually very interested in it as such, the fact that Somaliland political actors claim to be running a proper state is important for political reasons. Western policy imperatives and interventions do not land in some socio-political vacuum, but in a context characterised by particular power relations and existing institutions. Southern political actors do not adopt the imposed concepts of state, non-state institutions, democracy or good governance as such. They instrumentalise and appropriate the concepts and the discourse in ways that give them political clout and control. challenging received notions of statehood 21

They become tools in local politics and (however limited) tools in power negotiations within the global political arena, dominated by the West.

C. Persistent Anachronisms

Why do states fail? Foreign Policy’s Failed States Index gives us some clues. Pointing to lack of control and legitimacy on the part of state governance structures, the origins of state failure are largely perceived as being domestic in origin. Looking at the mainstream literature two causes stand out. The fĳirst is poor leadership: self-interested, destructive decisions of individual leaders leading to state failure. The second is state failure as a product of local culture: intractable tribalism, ethnicity, clanism (Jones 2008). The state, or rather, properly working state institutions refused to stick—despite decades of modernisation policies meted upon Africa by Western governments, fĳirst in their capacity as colonizing powers, then as donors of development cooperation. African states and state institutions appeared to lack full acceptance and had to compete with rivalling (indigenous, traditional) non-state institutions. Neither was their a clear boundary set by state and non-state institutions. Ethnic rivalry, nepotism, corruption seeped into the state’s institutions, causing it to become or remain weak and at least in danger of failing. Early mainstream development theory considered non-state institutions (indigenous, traditional) as obstacles to development. Classical sociologists in the 1950s and 1960s, heavily leaning on their understanding of Weber’s categories of social organisation, assumed an imminent transition from ‘traditional’ to ‘modern’ society. This would entail a transition from traditional elites ruling by virtue of a divine mandate to impersonal rule on rational and legal grounds. Modernisation, by opening up traditional societies, was supposed to give rise to development according to the Western model. The former colonial powers (as well as the two Cold War superpowers) supported African governments in their effforts to extend the authority of the state over their respective territories and societies. The support entailed fĳinancial, logistical or even military aid. Yet already early on, it became clear that non-state (indigenous, traditional) institutions were not withering away or becoming detached from modern state logic. On the contrary, they became part of a diffferent tra- jectory of state development. African societies did not become ‘modern’ in the Western sense. To be sure, the societies did change and evolve, but in a diffferent direction—toward a kind of alternative modernity 22 chapter one

(Eisenstadt 1973; Eisenstadt 1974). These societies displayed a mixture of modern institutions with modifĳied traditional institutions and power structures as contemporary responses to issues of rule and authority. In some African states this dualism4 was openly and offfĳicially recognized, in others it was not. In Malawi under Banda, for example, ‘traditional’ leadership and institutions were manifestly part of a power sharing arrangement. In Tanzania under Ujamaa ideology this was not the case (Englebert 2005). But whatever the offfĳicial position of national governments on the matter, dualism persisted under the surface of offfĳicial modernization discourse. Despite anthropological and sociological research indicating the contrary5 policy makers still considered indigenous traditional institutions as an anachronism in the postcolonial African state and its making. Unsurprisingly, the 1980s turn in development policy, which shifted from massive intervention and support to ailing state bureaucracies worldwide to a roll-back-the-state policy aimed at cutting down costs, hardly contributed to the withering away of such so-called anachronisms. They became even more visible and tangible. Although African states claimed universal and exclusive sovereignty within their territories, bureaucratic, customary, religious and kinship institutions continued to coexist in the public domain and continued to coregulate it (Bierschenk and De Sardan 2003). Moreover, leaders within customary and kinship institutions became more assertive in their own right as they managed to increase their influence in local and national politics, sometimes in competition with state authorities. In a number of cases these ‘traditional’ leaders (or tradition-based grass-roots organizations) even appeared to take over some of the state’s functions, typically providing justice and policing that either complemented or substituted for the state’s activities (Englebert 2005: 33).

D. Anachronisms as Patches for State Failure

In the face of an increasing number of weakening and failing states, questions were raised once more regarding the modern state’s legitimacy in African and other non-Western societies. Some recent work on state- building suggests that state fragility and state failure are at least partially

4 I believe one of the fĳirst author to use it in this context was Peter Ekeh (1975). 5 For example Benda-Beckmann (1979) or Van Rouveroy van Niewaal (1987). challenging received notions of statehood 23 attributable to a lack of local legitimacy: “poor states are held back by administrative and political systems built separately from the societies they are meant to serve, thus rendering those systems illegitimate, ripe for exploitation and a major hindrance for democratisation and development” (Kaplan 2008: 144). This can be overcome, it is argued, by taking into account indigenous, traditional institutions when devising policy for political and economic development (Clements, Boege, Brown et al. 2007; Kaplan 2008). Now Somaliland, which claims to have built a modern state on foundations of ‘traditional’ institutions and leadership, becomes a particularly alluring example. The Somaliland government and many a foreign observer agree that Somaliland was able to achieve success “by constructing a set of governing bodies rooted in traditional Somali concepts of governance by consultation and consent (…) its [Somaliland’s] integration of traditional ways of governance within a modern state apparatus has helped it to achieve greater cohesion and legitimacy” (Kaplan 2008). The idea of propping up the legitimacy of ill-faring modern institutions in Africa using ‘indigenous institution’ patches gained acclaim in the context of the new aid paradigm emerging from the so-called post- Washington consensus of the late 1990s (Sawyer 2005).6 The view was clearly reflected in the 1996 World Bank report Africa’s Management in the 1990s and Beyond: Reconciling Indigenous and Transplanted Institutions addressing Africa’s “crisis of institutional capacity” rooted in the “discon- nect between original and transplanted institutions” (Dia 1996). Contrary to the original informal institutions which enjoy wide legitimacy, the imported formal institutions do not, because they are not properly rooted in society. They are alien, imported, imposed and little understood. A few of the ensuing problems are, for example, widespread corruption or tax avoidance. Traditional loyalties (e.g. to the family or the tribe) clash with the imperatives of modern government and the notions of good governance. The key to resolving these problems is an “institutional reconciliation” between original and transplanted institutions. By building on

6 See also Fine (1999, 2002). Under the Post-Washington consensus the World Bank and the donor community at large would no longer focus on rolling back states and liberating markets. After establishing the fact that markets were not self-regulating after all, the Bank was to focus on institutions as indispensable enablers of successful market performance. ‘Institutions’ did not only include state institutions, but also notions such as culture, custom, associations or networks, all representing so-called social capital. Social capital contributes to smooth-working markets, for example, by instilling trust in people as they conduct (and as a prerequisite for) economic transactions. 24 chapter one traditional institutions, modern, imported ones can achieve the necessary legitimacy. By allowing influence from outside, traditional institutions can be adapted to the modern world by a process in which: “both converge towards the same goal to achieve institutional performance and sustainability” (Dia 1996: 2). Since the 1996 report, the World Bank has conducted more policy research and experiments involving traditional leaders and institutions in Africa—examples include experiments to link traditional and modern justice systems and investigations into formaliz- ing and offfĳicialising traditional systems of land tenure (World Bank 2003, 2007). So, whereas in early modernization theory and policy indigenous traditional institutions (and actors associated with them) were regarded as anachronisms and obstacles to development, new modernization policy has incorporated them as potential opportunities or even tools in fostering state-building and what is called good governance (Ogbaharya 2008). If state institutions are absent, do not work well or lack popular acceptance, perhaps traditional leadership and institutions can be used as patches to repair them and help them to function according to the donor’s standards. One could argue that this translates as: perhaps the envisaged Weberian state can be made to work better and become more acceptable and efffĳicient via a traditional patch. It will look more familiar, it will be more legitimate and it is more cost-efffective than trying to extend state control forcefully. There are several problems with this analysis and its proposed solutions. First, it is assumed that the legitimacy of traditional institutions (and actors associated with them) and public support for them naturally occur. This is not the case. Even if indigenous traditional institutions have retained much of their appeal among the citizens of African states, this does not necessarily translate into the realm of modern politics or development (Englebert 2002: 83). Neither do traditional leaders automatically enjoy popular support—such support has been seen to depend (among other factors) on their perceived performance: what can and do they deliver? (Höhne 2007) Furthermore, it seems to be assumed that institutions—modern state institutions as well as indigenous traditional institutions—are lifeless structures, things one can construct, deconstruct and mould at will. Just like policy-makers tend to ‘forget’ about the historical antecedents (social, political, economic) of modern state institutions, they also forget about the historical antecedents of the indigenous traditional institutions they observe in current-day Africa. challenging received notions of statehood 25

E. Invented Traditions and the Making of African States: A Two Way-Process

When confronted with the Somaliland national myth or the enthusiastic comments about a potential new development or state-building model based on the Somaliland experience, it becomes clear that the notion of traditional leadership and institutions is not very developed in these narratives. On the face of it, it seems as if external interveners want to (make-) believe that the use of tradition may represent a way around dirty politics—a benign, benefĳicial and locally legitimate bypass from working with corrupt politicians, local strongmen or warlords to re-construct or develop states. Yet, it is deeply misguided to consider traditional leaders as nothing more than “a kind of authentic, primordial, precolonial, indigenous, local and therefore appropriate institution of community representation” (Ribot 1999: 7).7 As amply demonstrated by historical research on Africa, colonizing powers have incorporated, modifĳied or even invented traditional leadership and institutions in order to facilitate colonial rule (Geschiere 1993; Ranger 1993). Yet, the famous “invention of tradition” (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1992) has not been a one-way process. Just like Southern political actors have engaged with the imported concept of state and its institutions, they have engaged with indigenous institutions (and their manipulation) during colonial occupations and beyond. The colonisation of African societies had a defĳining influence on them, fundamentally altering political contexts and institutions. This should not be taken to imply that this was achieved solely by the military power and political cunning of the colonial administrations. Neither was it so that indigenous institutions could be readily manipulated. The “invention of tradition” was a dynamic process in which agents of the colonizing power, as well as political actors among the colonized, took part. The process was determined by local conditions, as well as the exigencies of colonial exploitation. Colonial authorities, in their quest for “hegemony on a shoestring,”8 sought to incorporate pre-existing polities, with their own

7 Ribot launches a forceful criticism on the current uncritical incorporation of traditional authorities into local governance arrangements. Rather than resulting in increased popular participation (their stated purpose), they may actually prevent it, or even serve to prevent it. Ribot takes the argument even further. Referring to Mahmood Mamdani’s analysis of the bifurcated state, Ribot argues that rather than having the promised emancipa- tory efffects, working with local government and customary authorities in many cases seems to amount to a postcolonial form of indirect rule (see Mamdani 1996). 8 A phrase borrowed from Berry (1993). 26 chapter one structures of authority and political processes, into colonial structures, themselves in the process of being developed in response to local conditions. It made colonizers and their associate political actors among the colonized de facto interdependent. There was no way the colonial authorities could do without pre- existing traditional leaders and institutions to make their rule efffective. Their exact role varied according to the rationale behind the colonisation of diffferent regions in Africa—in a settler colony like Kenya traditional authorities were incorporated much more fĳirmly than in British Somaliland, where London had relatively few interests. Yet as a general rule: “far from being pre-colonial holdovers, colonial chiefs represented a consolidation of judicial, legislative and executive authority at the centre of a system founded on forced labour, cultivation of crops, payment of taxes and giving up land” (Spear 2003: 9). Because colonial authorities needed traditional leaders as intermediaries, they were careful not to push their demands on them too far, or to undermine their legitimacy in the eyes of the population by politically or legally incorporating them to the extent that they would loose that very legitimacy. Traditional leaders and institutions had to be seen to protect the population from colonial over-exploitation. Thus colonizers and actors among the colonized took on ‘tradition’ as a discursive tool in their quest for power and control over resources. As colonial authorities depended on traditional authorities and institutions (such as law and custom) to maintain their rule: “tradition became the source of continuing struggles over power, meaning and access to resources. Far from becoming an instrument of authoritarian rule, then, tradition was contested by Europeans and Africans alike in attempts to establish their power and access to resources.”9 In other words, although the colonial undertaking was a reflection of Western imperialism, African agency in the shaping of the colonial state and its exercise of power and control should not be disregarded (see also Berman 1998). The content of what constituted tradition or traditional institutions was adapted by the two sets of players in the fĳield, according to their own shifting needs and aspirations and only limited by their respective (and unequal) political weight and power. Come independence, notions of statehood as well as traditional leadership and institutions (as changed during colonial times) were carried over

9 Berry as referred to by Spear (2003: 10). challenging received notions of statehood 27 into the postcolonial period shaping the postcolonial state—with all its present dysfunctions and defĳiciencies. It led to what Sklar (1993) called “mixed government”: two interacting realms of government and authority in one single political space. Imported and indigenous institutions had become profoundly entangled and altered—with political actors moving in and between those two realms, calling upon (and eking out legitimacy from) notions of modern statehood as well as traditional institutions. African postcolonial elites who ascended to state power have to a certain extent successfully mobilized the symbolic capital associated with traditional authority, without diminishing the authority or the legitimacy of the state and its government (Sklar 2005: 15–16). At the same time, political actors based in the non-state traditional sphere (i.e. ‘traditional’ leaders) do not confĳine themselves to that sphere: they too exercise public authority and in doing so they often draw legitimacy (or at least leverage) from their association with state power and institutions (Lund 2006: 689). As such, two seemingly antagonistic political systems, world views and powers are integrated in the same polity. This integration can also be observed in the actors involved: they move in both spheres and more often than not wear double hats. The resulting overall picture seems con- fusing and blurred: the border between public and private, between state and non-state, between ‘modern’ and ‘traditional’ actor is not clearly delineated.

F. State-Making Reconsidered: Bringing Politics Back In

Many decades after its introduction the concept of state can no longer be regarded as an imported institution. It has become localised, appropriated, adapted to circumstances and power struggles on the ground (Bayart 1993). Indigenous traditional institutions as a product of power struggles between colonizers and colonized elites have been profoundly altered and integrated with those adapted states. If the (post)colonial development of indigenous traditional institutions and leadership is so profoundly entangled with the (post)colonial development of African states, it becomes difffĳicult to see how these institutions and leadership would be able to contribute to the forging of Weberian states by acting as patches for the perceived sketchy performance and legitimacy of African state institutions. Some innovative analyses of African statehood will help us look behind and beyond the mainstream state-building paradigm and discourse. They will form the backdrop to my story of a developing 28 chapter one

Somaliland, a dynamic politico-institutional mix in which normative notions of statehood play as important a role as non-state related claims to legitimacy and authority. New analyses have called for a departure from the Weberian bench- mark when assessing statehood with a fresh look at African states, beyond normative concepts (Migdal and Schlichte 2005). A particularly helpful way is to consider them as hybrid political orders (HPO), rather than as supposedly fĳixed (but failing) institutional arrangements. HPOs make the concept of statehood more flexible, surpassing the dichotomous depic- tion between the formal and the informal, the state and the non-state spheres: “HPOs represent a blend of the two spheres where there is a connection, an intermingling and an interpenetration of the norms and institutions of the formal state on the one hand and the norms and institutions of the informal/traditional/customary sphere on the other” (Lambach and Kraushaar 2008). HPOs are considered as a functional integration of spheres, institutions and actors influencing and changing each other as they shape their socio-political environment. In that sense HPOs as a concept are clearly diffferent from previously proposed concepts referring to multi-institutional environments (such as informal institutions (Meagher 2007), clientelism (Clapham 1982), neo-patrimonialism (Erdmann and Engel 2007), para-statehood (Von Trotha and Klute 2008) or legal pluralism (Von Benda-Beckmann and Von Benda-Beckmann 2006). They do not really challenge the state-centric perspective. They still contain a normative undertone, taking the Western notion of the state as a point of reference. HPOs on the other hand refers to a new state model, beyond the Western state, one where the so-called formal (state) and informal spheres are not treated as distinct, but rather connected, intermingled and interpenetrated. As such, these hybrid arrangements are not a devi- ance from a particular model but a new kind of political order in its own right (see also Clements, Boege, Brown et al. 2007). As HPOs, states are the product of an organic rather than premeditated or purposely designed political process. Statehood is not a conceptual given; it is negotiated (and therefore contested). Hence the call for a more ‘sociological’ approach to statehood. Statehood is not to be primarily considered as a set of institutional rules or organizational capacities, but as the result of instable and constantly renegotiated power relations involving institutional bricolage. Moreover, political processes leading to particular power and institutional arrangements are ongoing: the end result at a given point in time is not really the end. States (or traditional institutions for that matter) should not be reifĳied as a-historical things, as given challenging received notions of statehood 29 and fĳixed sets of institutions. (Hagmann and Péclard 2010: 541, 544) They should be considered as politics (i.e. negotiation and conflict) in progress. The idea of states as permanently shifting, (peacefully or violently) negotiated HPOs sheds light on the political and institutional context in which notions of Weberian statehood, on one hand, and indigenous traditional institutions, on the other, are used as discourses and strategies by the wide range of political actors involved in the negotiation. State-related and traditional-institution related discourses and strategies are used in the competition over the institutionalisation of relations of power into distinct forms of statehood. That competition takes place “between het- erogeneous groups with highly diffferentiated assets, entitlements, legitimacy and styles of expression” (Hagmann and Péclard 2010: 545). The institutions (adapted ‘old’ ones or new ones) which emerge from this process are a reflection of domination by the powerful over the weaker groups, not the result of a consensual, almost technocratic process, as the mainstream state-building paradigm suggests. Although references to the Weberian state clearly represent political capital,10 the outcome of the negotiations is not a Weberian state. Viewing states deviating from the Weberian ideal-type in terms of pathological deviations (such as the failed state debate does) obscures the actual stakes involved in the process as well as the strategies of various actors for reaching their political goals. Yet, it is not the elusiveness of the borders between what constitutes state and what constitutes the non-state realm is that problematic. Analytically and politically, the negotiation (peacefully or violently) of these borders—a crucial aspect to the negotiation of statehood, is far more relevant (Mitchell 1991).

G. Concluding Remarks: Concepts, Discourse and Politics

Patching failed states with indigenous institutions as a type of technical fĳix seems a profoundly elusive and even illusionary procedure. Actors in the West as well as the global South use notions such as state, institution or tradition in varying ways for varying purposes. States and institutions are not things. They are not permanent. They are not static. They reflect power relations at a point in time. In the chapters that follow I expose the

10 Lund (2006: 686) argues that public authority in African localities can be circum- scribed as: “the amalgamated result of the exercise of power by a variety of local institutions and the imposition of external institutions, conjugated with the idea of a state.” 30 chapter one power dynamics behind the notions of state, institution and tradition and behind the discourse that so prominently features them in the context of the Somaliland polity. There are North-South power dynamics involved. The West, embodied by the World Bank and other donor agencies, uses this discourse in its bid to exercise control over the Global South. The discourse contributes to keeping the borderlands where they are: at the periphery of a world-system in which they play an inferior role. ‘Statehood’ or ‘stateness’11 are defĳined and assessed by the core Western states. Lack of stateness, falling short of the standards set by the West, justifĳies intervention. Western states were formed in a diffferent era and emerged from a diffferent context. Southern states are not likely to go through a similar evolution, as though they were on some teleological journey through the stages of growth to statehood. Southern states did not and will not become similar to western states. Therefore the scope and justifĳication for intervention in their destinies will always exist. Sometimes these interventions are armed, like in Afghanistan or Iraq. More often they take on more subtle guises in the form of aid. In recent decades the extent of aid interference has expanded from the economic to the political and by extension the cultural sphere (as social capital). In turn, Southern political actors employ the same discourse in apparent compliance with Western criteria for statehood, democracy or good governance. They do so in return for the benefĳits (political, monetary or other) derived from aid. They refer to concepts such as state and at the same time engage with them and manipulate them. While the words are the same, the actual content of the concepts is very diffferent. Southern political actors do not passively undergo directives regarding economic policy or state building. They participate in shaping their implementation. The World Bank’s structural adjustment directives in the 1980s never stopped the Somali government from trying to maintain control over the economy. Guidelines were implemented if they opened new possibilities for lucrative privatization of public assets; prescribed policy was skilfully frustrated when it threatened opportunities for patronage (Samatar

11 Assessing the literature ‘statehood’ and ‘stateness’ come across as having a slightly diffferent meaning, with ‘stateness’ emphasising normative aspects of the concept. While ‘statehood’ is commonly used as simply referring to the (legal) status of being a state, Evans (1997) defĳines ‘stateness’ as “the institutional centrality of the state.” challenging received notions of statehood 31

1993: 35). The outcome was quite diffferent from the free market and the minimal state the World Bank had projected. The same is true for state- building and good-governance directives. They are appropriated and instrumentalised by Southern political actors to increase their political leeway within the Southern polities themselves. CHAPTER TWO

THE FAILING STATE. WHAT HAS CLAN GOT TO DO WITH IT?

On the face of it and according to conventional wisdom, the state has been unable to take root among the Somali as an institution because of clan interests. The state, imported from the West, was superimposed on a society organised according to a socio-political system made up of clans, sub-clans, sub-sub-clans and so on. Above anything else Somalis have felt loyal to their clan, which reduced the Somali state and its institutions to a mere resource to be competed over. This seems amply illustrated by a quick textbook reading of Somalia’s modern history. The fĳirst civil regime after independence succumbed to clan politics in 1969, a mere nine years after independence. A military coup ensued and then Siyyad Barre’s military regime sufffered the same fate by also succumbing to clan politics. This time the state imploded altogether in 1991, and it remains so until this day. Clan militia kept fĳighting more or less intensely over various assets of the imploded state (such as ports, airports and trade routes).1 Ever since the collapse, each and every major peace conference attempting to repair the situation has had to deal with accommodating the diffferent clans, all of which needed a share in any new interim power arrangement or government. What is this about? There seem to be two opposing sides to this debate. One side argues that it is rather clear: clanship is a precolonial leftover that any attempt at building a modern state will never be able to undo. The Somali civil war and failure of the state show that the Somali simply cannot escape clanship. They are “pervasively bellicose”2 as a result of their age-old kinship-based political system (Lewis 1998: 100). Clans and clan segments are involved in violent feuding inherent to survival as

1 Mostly as a result of foreign intervention in the Somali conflict, the clan militia were gradually joined (and to some degree overtaken) by scores of Islamist militia groups. A discussion of the nature and origins of these groups is not part of this book. I have discussed early Islamist groups elsewhere (Renders 2007; Renders 2005c). For a discussion of later events, see ICG 2010. 2 Lewis, arguably the dean of Somali studies in Western Academia (his work will be discussed later in this chapter) has for long been the fĳigurehead of the proponents of this analysis. 34 chapter two roaming pastoralists in a resource-scarce environment. In essence, nothing changed throughout history: modern imports, such as states and permanent government, were (and are) simply “captured” by the all- encompassing and eternal kinship logic. The current civil war is an extreme expression of this axiom—Somalis are doing “what they have always done-only with greater access to more lethal weapons.”3 States in the Somali context fail, in short, because the kinship-based traditional political system inevitably corrupts them. This position is vigorously opposed by some other analysts of Somali politics, who argue that it is not the Somali political system that has corrupted the state. It is the other way around. It is the state, imported by colonial powers and instrumentalised by postcolonial elites in an expanding global economy, which has corrupted the traditional kinship-based political system (Mohammed 2007: 245; Samatar 1988b; Besteman 1998). The clan system today is not what existed in the precolonial period— together with the colonial administration, Somali elites have efffectively undone it, hand-picking aspects that have suited their political goals, dis- carding aspects that did not. They used clanship to muster political support among the population but did away with the checks and balances that had been inherent to the system. What is referred to as clanship today is a gruesome mutant of clanship in precolonial times. If anything, it should be discarded as a necessary precondition for Somali society to wake up from its nightmare (Samatar 1992: 640). It may, however, be very hard to separate the logics of state and clanship in the Somali polity. It is a truism that precolonial clanship is not the same as postcolonial clanship, but it is indisputably a living organizing principle in Somali society and politics. It is the way in which people organise their lives and compete for resources of whatever kind, be they water sites, banana plantations or government jobs. It has been pointed out that clanship is not a matter of simple elite manipulation. In modern contexts it involves rulers and ruled, oppressors and oppressed, exploiters and exploited. Therefore, what we need to look at is how people have developed and use clanship in diffferent contexts (Lulling 2006: 471). This chapter aims to shed light on the intertwined development of state and clanship—fĳirst in the British Protectorate of Somaliland and then in Somalia at large (after Somaliland merged with the former Italian

3 In this article Lewis (1998) reappropriates Besteman’s ironical remark cited above, confĳirming that indeed this is what he believes. the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 35 colony of that name). It will show how state and clan came to matter as political capital in the competition for power, a competition that under Siyyad Barre’s military regime ultimately resulted in a violent and exclusive system of clan-based patronage and political control, to a large extent propped up and fuelled by foreign aid.

A. The Somaliland Protectorate and the Introduction of the Modern Nation State

Britain’s reasons for establishing their Somaliland Protectorate defĳined the way they handled and administered it: with minimum cost and personnel, and preferably through local authorities. The sole purpose of the protectorate was to provision a British garrison in Aden (now Yemen) with meat. The Aden garrison protected the naval route (including the Suez Canal) between Great Britain and India. As early as 1838, agents of the British East India Company had negotiated “friendship treaties” with the Somali clans on the northwestern coast.4 The British procured meat from traders who walked cattle from the interior to the coast. Only the “Scramble for Africa” forced Great Britain to establish a formal protectorate in 1887, when the friendship treaties became “protection treaties.” In similar fashion Somali-speaking people became subjects of fĳive dif- ferent colonial states in the Horn of Africa. Apart from the Somaliland Protectorate, Great Britain also claimed what is now Somali-inhabited northeastern Kenya as part of its Kenya colony. France moved to occupy the territory surrounding the port of Obock, which later became the mini-state of Djibouti. Italy established a settler colony in Southern Somalia. Finally, as a regional imperialist power, Ethiopia claimed the Somali Haud and Ogaden regions (today the Ogaden remains one of Ethiopia’s federal states). London did not consider the Protectorate to be very important, in terms of either controlling the entire territory or governance. Indeed, ten

4 In 1858 the previously privately owned English East India Company including its assets, personnel and overseas territories were transferred to the British Crown. The treaties with the Somali clans were transferred too. To the Somali it probably did not make much diffference. They were still dealing with the same people. Moreover, the distinction between the East India Company and the British state had been increasingly blurred since the last quarter of the eighteenth century. Debts incurred by the Company, which became more and more fĳinancially unsustainable because of the amount of territory it had to protect and govern, had been solved by the British Crown (Lawson 1994: 164). 36 chapter two years after the establishment of the protectorate, Great Britain ceded most of the protected territories (notably the Haud Reserved Areas) to the Ethiopian Empire in a bid to keep on good political terms with Emperor Menelik, who was at the height of his political and military power. It kept a coastal strip extending a mere hundred kilometres inland, deemed suf- fĳicient to safeguard the meat supply to Aden.5 Apart from the coastal town of Berbera, most areas within the protectorate were left alone, without visible administration or colonial government. The presence of British offfĳicers in the protectorate was kept minimal and any governance apparatus merely served to safeguard law and order in the service of a steady supply of meat. With so little colonial manpower, political control could only be achieved by working with and through the clans. Though the Protectorate administration tried to understand the Somali clan system in order to co-opt it for their own purposes, it was never clear to them how it in fact functioned. Administrators tried to fĳind tribal leaders whom they could incorporate and use in their bid for political and military control, thereby attaching political weight and importance to actors who did not actually have any. They looked for men with titles, but it was not those men who were in control. One such example was the ‘kings,’ clan elders with titles such as sultaan, garaad or ugaas. These offfĳices, however, were at the time ceremonial, almost ritual positions. Sultaans did not wield any power in the sense that they were able to enforce their rulings. Another example was that of the akil, a position introduced during Ottoman-Egyptian rule, prior to the advent of the British. Akils had been designated by the Ottomans to interact with the government on behalf of their clan segment. The British administrators believed them to be tribal chiefs (Mohammed 2007: 230). In most cases the akils had little political influence among the rural population. Yet, the Protectorate administration turned the akils into salaried headmen, responsible for the conduct of their clan segment (Lewis 1999: 204). Unruly clan segments could thus be called to account and subjected to collective punishment when they failed to abide by the orders of the British (Kapteijns and Farah 2001: 720). Both the number of akils and titled elders increased signifĳicantly during the colonial period. But the

5 The British thus betrayed the Somali clans they were ‘protecting.’ The Somali did not fĳind out that they were conned by their Protectors until after the Second World War when the border between Ethiopia and the British protectorate of Somaliland was formally drawn. See notably Drysdale (1964). the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 37

British colonial administrators struggled with the intractability of the clan system. The elusive socio-political organisation of the Somali lacked both a tribal hierarchy and cohesion at a level that the administration could mobilize for a smooth running of indirect rule (Mohammed 2007: 230).

1.1. Tested Recipes? For want of a thorough insight into the Somali clan system, the Protectorate administration resorted to socio-political institutions they imagined they did know, based on their colonial administrative experience elsewhere, notably British India and West Africa. They engaged with Muslim religious leaders in a search for local leadership, trying to avoid the whole complicated clan system. Islam and clanship however, were not clearly separable notions in the Somali setting, with the result that the British strategy of identifying and promoting certain religious leaders over others backfĳired dramatically, resulting in a protracted war which caused death and destruction among the Protectorate population. In search of local leadership, the administration linked up with leaders of Islamic brotherhoods (tariqa) on the coast and in the interior. The brotherhoods had founded religious settlements where Somali with dif- ferent clan backgrounds lived together as brothers (ikhwaan) engaging in cultivation, animal husbandry, religious study and worship. The clan that controlled the area of tariqa settlement made land available to the settlement community in exchange for the payment of various dues (Kapteijns 2000). The tariqas were not only embedded in Somali society and therefore linked to the clan system, but they also demonstrated some semblance of clear leadership. The British colonial authorities tolerated the tariqas that were politically quiet and willing to collaborate with Christian European entrepreneurs and administrators. They had excellent relations with Sheikh Madar, a religious authority from the Habar Awal/Isaaq clan near Hargeysa. Initially they had good relations as well with Mohamed Abdule Hassan, a religious authority from a more inland region inhabited by the Dhulbahante and Ogaden clans, with whom the British did not have protection treaties. Touval (1963: 52) notes that the British administrators appreciated the authority Sayyid Mohamed seemed to have in religious but also in various “tribal” [sic] afffairs. However, Sheikh Madar, along with other prominent members of his brotherhood, and Sayyid Mohamed, who travelled around the Protectorate a lot, became competitors for religious and political authority among the 38 chapter two

Somali. The British administration chose the side of Madar and his associates, so Sayyid Mohamed was chased from Berbera and forced to seek refuge with his clansmen inland. His religious discourse turned political. Denouncing Ethiopian and British occupation and exploitation of Somali lands, Sayyid Mohamed raised his own army from among the Dhulbahante, later extending recruitment to other clans, partly on a voluntary basis, partly by force. Instead of identifying themselves by the name of their clans, all the Sayyid’s followers assumed the unifying title of “Derwish,” and targeted British-protected clans. Other clansmen either joined the Derwishes or were annihilated (Sheik Abdi 1993). The war went on and offf for twenty years between 1900 and 1920. Initially, the protectorate administration did not mount more than a few half-hearted military expeditions against Sayyid Mohamed. It instead armed “friendly” clans, hoping that a clan or religious leader would naturally emerge and crush the Derwishes and their so-called Mad Mullah. The administration pulled out from the interior, leaving the Somali to fĳight among themselves. It is estimated that the war claimed the lives of one third of the male population at the time. Although the Derwish force even turned against the coastal towns, World War I forced the British to scale down less important operations and to limit themselves to defen- sive actions. Ultimately, in 1920, the British mounted a new offfensive. The Derwish fort in Talleh6 was bombed to rubble by the British Royal Air Force in what is remembered by the Somalis as the fĳirst air raid in history. Despite the fact that the Derwishes were massively outnumbered and outgunned, the Mad Mullah was not captured and fled into the Ogaden Desert, where he died of influenza in November of the same year.7

1.2. Enter State Building and Development By 1920, Great Britain and the other European empires had reached their greatest extent, but the colonial undertaking was past its apogee. The imperial powers were weakened by the war-efffort of 1914–1918, and colonialism came under heavy pressure and criticism of the new emerging world power, the United States. The introduction of the mandate system by the League of Nations for the fĳirst time entrusted the colonial powers with obligations towards their colonies. Imperial rule became limited

6 East of Las Anod. 7 For an extended discussion of this episode see Sheik Abdi (1993) and Lewis (2002b). the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 39 and temporary. Eventually, the colonised peoples would have to evolve towards self-rule, either as full citizens of the motherland, which was France’s plan for its overseas possessions, or as citizens of new independent states, the British idea. The Statute of Westminster (1931) established the British Commonwealth, a loose political and economic framework designed to attach Britain to its future ex-colonies (Holland 1985: 24–25). The Derwish War and the First World War left the Protectorate administration without fĳinancial means (Lewis 2002: 92). As long as the meat supply to Aden was uninterrupted, the Administration just sat in Berbera. This changed during and after the Second World War, when the Protectorate authorities began to involve themselves actively in Somali politics. Mussolini’s fascist army in eastern Africa had been defeated early on in the war, and by 1941 the entire Somali territory8 was brought under the British Military Administration (BMA). Under the administration of the British Military Governor of Somaliland, Gerald Fisher (1943–1948), the policy of administering extremely light-handedly was abandoned in favour of a more ‘developmental’ approach. Symbolically, the seat of government was moved away from Berbera to Hargeysa as an expression of the desire to govern the entire territory, not just the coast. Helped by the newly approved Colonial Development and Welfare scheme of grants, the administration set out on a development programme for the Protectorate (Lewis 2002: 133). The late colonial period marked the appearance of the “white man-as- expert”—in agriculture, irrigation, livestock husbandry, soil and forestry improvement and protection, public health, formal and informal education and institutional development. In addition, political reform became central to the new imperial project of modernization: its aim was quite simply to establish local authorities based on traditional institutions’ (Mohammed 2007: 231). Instead of creating and working directly with the ‘chiefs,’ the aim was to establish modern institutions, built on a ‘traditional basis’. In 1946 the Protectorate authorities installed a Protectorate Advisory Council, and subsequently Local Government Councils (1950– 1954), a Legislative Council (1957) and an Executive Council (1959), in which new Somali elites were involved. However, in order to build government in the colonies on a ‘traditional basis,’ it was necessary to understand that ‘tradition.’ The colonial consensus on what constituted Somali

8 Save for Djibouti which was French, under Vichy rule until 1942 when it went over to the Free French under de Gaulle. 40 chapter two traditional politics and society was articulated in I.M. Lewis’s anthropological classic, A Pastoral Democracy which was later forcefully criticised for presenting Somali society and politics as untouched by colonial rule, overlooking the vicious efffects of colonialism in Somaliland and treating colonial interference as essentially benign (Kapteijns and Farah 2001).

1.3. A Pastoral Democracy The concern of Protectorate offfĳicials with understanding how the local society worked fertilised a new line of scientifĳic enquiry in British academia. Similar questions had arisen elsewhere in Africa (Rivière 2000: 41). What the British academics became interested in was not the phenomenon of local rule or government in the colonies, but the lack thereof, especially in Africa. “Primitive societies” were the objects of study of the social anthropology developing at British universities in the fĳirst half of the twentieth century. “Political anthropology,” as it came to be called, took a special interest in stateless societies (societies without specialised or autonomous political institutions). Political anthropologists were fasci- nated by the manner in which a society without government could exist and function. Evans-Pritchard’s seminal study The Nuer, an ethnographic study of a Sudanese “tribe,” set the stage.9 As one of Evans-Pritchard’s PhD students at Oxford, Lewis dedicated himself to the study of the Somali. His fĳield research (1955–1957) was fĳinanced by the British Colonial Social Science Research Council. As no unattached foreign personnel were permitted to work in Somaliland, Lewis was afffĳiliated to what he called the “refreshingly eccentric” Somaliland Protectorate administration.10 In A Pastoral Democracy Lewis (1999) described the Somali as a profoundly egalitarian society, without a formal hierarchy of political or administrative offfĳice, without central government.11 This is how Lewis saw it: society and politics were organised along kinship lines. Every Somali belonged to a lineage which was established by tracing back his or her (real or imagined) ancestors to the eponym of the clan family via patrilineal descent. The clan families consisted of a cluster of clans: the Isaaq living in the former Somaliland Protectorate, consisted of Habar Awal,

9 Other important contributions to this paradigm included: African political systems by Evans-Pritchard and Fortes (1940), The dynamics of clanship among the Tallensi by Fortes (1945), Tribes without rulers by Middleton and Tait (1958). 10 Afterword to the 1999 edition of A pastoral democracy, originally published in 1961 by the International African Institute, London (Lewis 1999: iii). 11 This section does not aim to do justice to Lewis’s profound and minute analysis. The kinship system is only discussed to the level relevant to the subject of this book. the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 41

Arab, Habar Ja’lo, Habar Yunis, ‘Idagalle and some smaller clans; all the clans for their part consisted of several subclans. For example, the Habar Awal consisted of Saad Musa and Issa Musa, which were again made up of several sub-subclans.

The lowest level of kinship group was the diya paying group. This was the clan segment that (in the absence of a judicial system governed by a state) in case of insult, injury or death was supposed to receive or pay blood money (diya). It was this clan segment that the akils represented in dealings with state administration, under Egyptian and later British rule. Political relations between and within kinship groups (clans, subclans, diya paying groups) were governed by contract (heer). Although heer has recently been qualifĳied as “the law of the Somalis,” (Van Notten 2005) Lewis pointed out that it was not a fĳixed law that applied to all Somali. It was a body of agreed arrangements that regulated relations of each particular group with other groups on the same kinship level. The arrangements mostly pertained to matters of collective defence and security—they were negotiated between the kinship groups concerned and could change at any time. Among other things, heer between two groups set amounts for payment of blood money. The compensation agreements for diffferent violations of heer were variable. If an incident happened, the clan elders of the two respective groups sat together, looked at precedents and decided accordingly. In cases where no agreement was reached (or when the political or economic stakes were particularly high), the conflict could expand to higher levels of kinship alliance, necessitating similar negotiations between elders of the subclans involved rather than the diya paying groups involved.12

12 This seemed more or less still the current practice in Somaliland when I visited in May 2002. That month, the elders of the Abokor Issa (Habar Awal/Issa Musa) and the Abdalla Saad (Habar Awal/Saad Musa) sat together after an incident between two clansmen in Hargeysa (Saad Musa territory). A gun had been pulled to threaten an Abdalla Saad man. The elders looked at the history of relations between two clans and concluded that the last incident had taken place sixty years ago. In the heer between the two groups there turned out to be diffferent prices for pulling, pointing and actually shooting a gun. The price for pulling was 25 camels. After due process, diya was set accordingly. Because the closeness and the generally brotherly relations between the two groups concerned, some of the diya then could be given back as a sign of goodwill. Seven camels were returned on this particular occasion. Should the issue have gotten out of hand in some way or another, it could have superseded the level it was at. In that scenario it could have turned into a confrontation between higher levels of kinship (in casu the Saad Musa against the Issa Musa) with correspondingly higher (political) stakes. Author’s observations May 2002. (The account of the events and the subsequent negotiations were provided by some of the concerned). 42 chapter two

At every level, political leadership lay with the elders of a particular group (Lewis 1999: 196). All adult men were classed as elders and had the right to speak at clan councils (shir) dealing with matters of general concern. In principle all adult males13 had an equal say, although opinions carried diffferent weight depending on the prestige of the man who voiced them. Men who were wealthier, older, more skilled in oratory, poetry and religion or benefĳited from more inherited prestige or political acumen would have their opinions considered more carefully. Groups usually had several unofffĳicial leaders, expert on diffferent topics. Theshir was an informal council, convened as the need arose. It was attended by all the adult men (or their representatives in case of higher level meetings). The shir gatherings disposed of the collective issues of a group: heer contracts within diya paying groups, peace treaties, setting up raiding parties against other groups and appointing battle leaders, as well as distribution and collection of compensation received from or due to another group. Lewis did point out that akils and sultaans were not real positions of authority in traditional Somali society, even hinting at the increasing corruption that characterized the offfĳice (Mohammed 2007: 231). Nevertheless, the Protectorate administration gave akils and sultaans central roles in the building of a Somaliland Protectorate state and government.

B. Colonial Administration and State Building

In the late 1940s, British colonial engagement with Somali “pastoral democracy” moved from indirect rule mediated by traditional institutions to actual state building “based on traditional institutions.” Essentially, this boiled down to ensuring balanced clan representation in modernized governance institutions. This intervention caused a dynamic that would shape the modern Somali state after independence: henceforth politicians would call on clan constituencies in order to gain access to power and the resources associated with the state.

2.1. From Indirect Rule to Modern Government After the Second World War, under the new paradigm of ‘development,’ colonial powers were supposed to prepare the overseas territories they

13 Except for the bondsmen, who are in fact a kind of ‘outcasts.’ They are not part of the clan system, although they enjoy the protection of a ‘patron’ clan and do work that is skilled but considered menial such as hair cutting and leatherwork. the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 43 controlled for independence and self-rule. The offfĳicial policy was to build a state in Somaliland: to modernise governance and build modern local authorities, based on indigenous traditional institutions. The post-war Colonial Development and Welfare Scheme of Grants allowed the Protectorate the extra fĳinancial breathing space to do so (Lewis 2002: 132). In this new setting, a selected group of titled elders remained important as political actors. The Protectorate administration installed a Protectorate Advisory Council consisting of traders and civil servants,14 on one hand, and sultaans and akils, on the other. As such it was meant to be seen as representative of all sectors of society, modern as well as traditional, and all clans (Mohammed 2007: 232). The Council was supposed to assist the Protectorate government in administrating Somaliland. Delegates were hand-picked by the Military Governor (Lewis 2002: 134). A prominent member was Hajj Ibrahim Egal, one of the wealthiest merchants of the Protectorate and father of Mohammed Ibrahim Egal.15 A few years later the Protectorate administration proceeded to install local governance in the towns and regions of the Protectorate. From a pool of men who enjoyed the government’s trust—traders, civil servants and akils—the government picked members for town councils, initially in Berbera and Hargeysa and later also in Bur’o, Erigavo, Borama and Las Anod. Seeking to establish these modern institutions on a traditional foundation, akils were included and tribal balance carefully considered. While this innovation was fairly successful in towns, in rural areas the set- up of local government failed. It met with fĳierce popular resistance against the apparent expansion of the role of the akils in modern government (Mohammed 2007: 232).

14 Lewis (2002b: 132) mentions that the number of Somali civil servants had risen sharply after the Second World War thanks to extra fĳinancial breathing space provided by the post-war ‘Colonial Development and Welfare scheme of grants.’ Samatar (1988b: 81–82), in his detailed account about the developments and shifts in the Somali political economy between 1884 and 1986, points to the rise of the livestock traders as Northern Somalia enters the capitalist world-system. As argued by Samatar, the Northern Somali subsistence economy based on cattle herding was replaced with one dependent on livestock trade with the Aden Protectorate. As trade became more important, economic inequality became more prominent too, resulting in what Samatar considers class diffferences and a nascent petty bourgeoisie of traders. In conjunction with selected civil servants, men selected from traders’ families were to form the basis of a new Somali ruling class. 15 At the departure of the British in 1960, Mohammed Ibrahim Egal became Somaliland’s fĳirst Prime Minister after independence. He went on to become Prime Minister of the uni- fĳied Somali Republic in 1960 and between 1967–1969. Much later, from 1993 to 2002, he was President of the self-declared Republic of Somaliland. 44 chapter two

In 1957 the Protectorate Advisory Council was replaced by a Legislative Council, consisting of selected members of the Advisory Council. Its composition was again carefully balanced in terms of the tribal background of members. Although the Legislative Council was presented by the British as the introduction of Somaliland “into the great and growing tradition of parliamentary democracy,” representation in the new institution was a major headache for the Protectorate Administration. There was internal disagreement about how to deal with it. On what basis should candidates for offfĳicial offfĳice be selected or elected? Tribal representation was as complicated as geographical representation: the clan system was too complex, and the individual subjects too entangled in it. Clans and subclans frequently intermixed and intermarried making a neat tribal delineation all but impossible. In some districts there were no pure tribes that were isolated from others, making tribal representation impracticable. On the other hand, geographical representation was thought to undermine the traditional system beyond the intended degree and to render it useless for legitimate governance (Mohammed 2007: 232–335).

2.2. ‘Tribal Representation,’ Modern Statehood and Somali Nationalism Trying to sort out the representation issue, the Protectorate Administration involved a number of Somaliland political heavyweights in the discussion, wealthy traders, who had become involved in the new political organisations emerging in the Protectorate. The fĳirst such organisation had been the Somali Youth League (SYL). It was followed in 1951 by the founding of the Somali National League (SNL), with the son of Hajj Ibrahim Egal, Mohammed Ibrahim Egal, as Secretary-General. The stated goals of the SNL mirrored those of SYL: abolition of clanism, promotion of education and Somali unity.16 The Somali urban-based politicians consulted by the Protectorate Administration, walked a tight-rope between the discourse of the Somali nationalist parties they belonged to and the political reality of the need to build alliances via clans (Mohammed 2007: 238). The latter was reflected in the results of the 1960s elections. Under increasing public pressure a constitution had been drafted to provide for fuller Somali participation through elected representatives. A majority of Legislative Council seats were to be fĳilled by universal male sufffrage.

16 Two other new parties included the National United Front and the United Somali Party. the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 45

The tension between nationalist discourse and the actual practice of clanship-mediated politics became apparent in the campaign and the outcome. Four parties contested, none of which demonstrated any ideological diffference (Touval 1963: 166). They all shared a stated desire for the unifĳication of all Somali territories in a modern state with modern institutions, in which clan institutions were no longer paramount. At the same time, however, the main diffference between candidates was their clan basis.17 The Protectorate administration never worked out the representation issue. They welcomed Somali nationalism. Indian independence in 1947 had dramatically reduced the strategic importance of the British presence in Aden and therefore also the importance of British control over the Somali coast. The British government declared that it would not oppose unifĳication with the Italian Trust Territory of Somalia, if that was what the nationalists wanted (Lewis 2002: 152). In April the new Legislative Council adopted a motion calling for independence and union with the Italian Trust Territory of Somalia as soon as the Trust Territory would become independent on the 1st of July 1960. A hastily convened constitutional conference agreed on a date for independence. The British Protectorate ended on 26 June 1960. Five days later, the former Protectorate united with the former Italian Trust Territory of Somalia to form the Republic of Somalia.

C. Clanship Mediated Politics in Cold War Somalia

There were daunting complexities associated with the merger between Northern Somalia (formerly the British Protectorate) and Southern Somalia (formerly the Italian Trust Territory). Among many other things, the respective civil service apparatuses had to be merged and, organisational cultures had to be adapted and reconciled. Even the language of administration had to be sorted out: as Somali was at the time not even

17 The Somali Youth League derived its principal support from the Darod (Dhulbahante and Warsengeli) whereas the Somali National League was dominated by Isaaq politicians. After the National United Front lost support of the previous two it was left with its core Isaaq-Habar Ja’lo support, the clan of one of the most prominent leaders, Michael Mariano. Right before the 1960 election, the new formation United Somali Party found support among the Darod (Warsengeli and Dhulbahante) and among the Gadabursi and the ‘Iisse in the west of the Protectorate. The election was carried by the SNL (20 seats), followed by the USP (12 seats). The NUF won one. SYL only won support from some sections of the Darod and failed to win any seats (Touval 1963: 104). 46 chapter two a written language—civil servants conducted their business in English or Italian, depending on their profĳiciency (Lewis 2002: 170). Even more serious however, Somalia’s prospects as an independent modern state on its way to economic development looked pretty dim from the outset: a few years prior to Somali independence and union, offfĳicials of the Bretton Woods institutions had calculated that the country would be needing development aid for at least twenty years (Samatar 1993: 28). And indeed, aid became amply available to the Somali government. During the Cold War the Soviet Union and the United States (and their respective allies) at times provided military aid to the Somali regime.18 Patrons’ military aid to Somalia was supplemented by vast amounts of fĳiscal support and other forms of assistance, all which earned Somalia the reputation of being a “graveyard of international aid.” Funds were misap- propriated on a grand scale. Government corruption and abuse of power were rife at all levels. As the ruling elite’s power circle gradually became smaller yet more powerful, excluded elite competitors for power became deeply opposed. After the Cold War, with geopolitical spoils on the wane and the incumbent regime struggling to keep afloat, the Mogadishu government would become the focus of attack by various armed opposition movements which derived support from diffferent clan groups.

3.1. Enter The State as a Resource Arguably, postcolonial Somalia never had a chance to develop into a truly independent state with a capable representative government. The new leadership did not have the knowledge, skills or imagination to build and expand a productive base for the national economy. They were traders who knew nothing of either livestock or peasant agriculture. What is more, the new regime inherited an anaemic economy, a deepening budgetary defĳicit and a growing urban population that was not involved in productive labour. At the start defĳicits were fĳinanced by budget cuts and subsidies from former colonial powers, supplemented by yet more loans and grants coming from overseas. As the regime failed to develop domestic sources of accumulation, the state remained the most lucrative source of funds for the elite (Samatar 1992: 633).

18 The USSR switched from Somalia to Ethiopia as a preferred ally in the Horn when in 1974 a military coup deposed Emperor Haile Selassie and installed a Marxist-Leninist revolutionary regime in Ethiopia. the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 47

This situation made for the almost immediate degeneration of the major political parties and the system of parliamentary governance itself. The way to get access to state funds was to become a member of parliament or a government minister. The intensifying competition for these lucrative positions was reflected in the steep increase in the number of parties and individual contestants in subsequent elections. Political fragmentation expanded dramatically. In the elections of 1964, 24 political parties fĳielded 793 candidates for 123 seats. Five years later the number of political parties had multiplied to 62 with 1,002 candidates contesting the same 123 seats (Samatar 1992: 633). Support was solicited on the basis of clan allegiance, since there were no ideological diffferences between the parties. Because competition for seats was so intense, however, a mere appeal to clan allegiance was not sufffĳicient. Competition was rife within clan groups too. The result was that material inducements for voters and influential leaders became the rule. Any costs incurred by the voters (time spent to go and cast ballots, transport costs) had to be met by the candidate seeking election. The 1969 elections were won by the candidates of the Somali Youth League (73 of 123 seats), but as soon as the parliament was formed, all but one member of the opposition parties crossed the floor and joined the ruling party to secure future benefĳits and to recover expenses incurred during the campaign (Samatar 1992: 635). In October 1969 the Somali president, Abdirashid Ali Shirmaarke was assassinated by one of his bodyguards. Immediately, the army stepped in to fĳill the power vacuum. In doing so, it seemed to have the full support of the Somali population, tired of the endless squabbles among the civilian politicians.

3.2. The “Burial of Tribalism” and the Birth of the MOD-Alliance The military regime immediately engaged with clan politics—while apparently doing away with it. Political control became grounded in a mix of Somali nationalist discourse and power-mongering using clan- related loyalties, sentiments and power bases. After the coup, a Supreme Revolutionary Council (SRC) was set up, in which all executive, legislative and judiciary powers were vested. It was headed by the leader of the coup, General Mohammed Siyyad Barre, who handpicked the other members among associates he judged useful or trustworthy (Samatar 1988a: 87). Offfĳicially, the military regime immediately abolished the clan system, which—in its colonial form—had been left undisturbed by the civilian 48 chapter two regime. Solidarity based on lineage was outlawed and severely punished. The most important expression of this policy was the outlawing of the diya paying system. Payment of blood money in case of murder or man- slaughter was replaced by the death penalty. The functions of traditional authorities in the civil sphere, such as the solemnization of marriages, were referred to state offfĳicials. Marriages could no longer be a matter of clan politics19 but simply a matter of two individuals wishing to make a life together. In addition, the legal and political functions of akils were placed under fĳirm state control (Brons 2001: 177). The eight provinces in which the Somali state had been divided were redrawn as 15 regions, subdivided into 78 districts to avoid any tribal connotations, such as Mijurteenia, “the land of the Majeerteen.” National de-tribalisation campaigns had to convince the population that they were Somalis, not clansmen anymore. In a speech entitled The Evils of Tribalism, held in Mogadishu on 21 April 1971, Siyyad Barre made it understood that solidarity based on blood relations stood in the way of national solidarity and therefore had to be eradicated. Tribalism impeded progress and development. The persistence of tribalism was blamed both on the colonial powers, who were said to have deliberately maintained the system to keep the Somali nation divided and weak, and on the politicians and political manipulators of the civilian regime who had used tribalism to further their own power games (Abd Wahid Osman Haj 2001: 269). Nationalistic sentiment was stirred up as much as possible. At one point thousands of people throughout the country were mobilised to participate in a demonstration evoking the “burial of tribalism.”20 At the same time, as early as 1972, Siyyad Barre had three high ranking SRC members executed for allegedly staging a coup against him. The three belonged to the three main clans in the country, the Isaaq/ Habar Yunis, the Hawiye/Abgal and the Majeerteen/Osman Mohamoud. It was generally believed that the reason these men were executed, was “to send a message to the big clans who might consider questioning his authority.”21 The military junta proceeded to adopt a more or less socialist discourse. The Soviet Union became Somalia’s most important patron and provider

19 Marriage was often used in clan politics. A daughter of a particular lineage group could be given to another lineage group as a token of goodwill or reconciliation, as part of a peace agreement between two hostile lineage groups, or to strengthen the bonds between two lineage groups. See Lewis (1999). 20 Dr. Mohammed Rashid Hassan, interview Hargeysa 03/04/2003. 21 Dr. Mohammed Rashid Hassan, interview Hargeysa 03/04/2003. the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 49 of budgetary aid. An extensive state apparatus developed, entirely under the control of Siyyad Barre. The Supreme Court was replaced by a National Security Court, directly controlled by the SRC. Free speech and assembly were curtailed, and privately owned newspapers forbidden. A civilian council of secretaries was appointed to perform the bureaucratic and technical tasks of government. At regional and local levels, civilian administrators were replaced with military and police commanders, who took new roles as governors and district commissioners. Local commanders were also appointed as chairmen of local Revolutionary Councils, that were responsible for local administration, the administration of justice and the maintenance of security. Finally, the new regime set up an omnipresent and omnipotent National Security Service (NSS) (Samatar 1988: 86). Although some policy measures taken by the military junta were applauded initially, by 1975 much of the enthusiasm for the military regime had worn offf.22 Siyyad Barre’s circle tightened its grip on the state apparatus and on society until the climate became oppressive. The National Security Service was everywhere. Ever larger numbers of Somalis started migrating to the Gulf States to avoid problems in Somalia and reap some of the benefĳits of the oil boom that was in full swing there. The exodus was exacerbated by a prolonged drought that struck in 1973, which necessitated that the pastoral population look for alternative income by sending family members to work abroad. 150,000 to 200,000 Somalis left the country to work as manual labourers or in more highly skilled professions, such as engineering. Half of them came from northwest Somalia (Marchal 1996: 34). The Soviet Union tried to exert pressure on Barre to loosen his personal grip and to institutionalise the revolution by creating a proper Socialist Party (Samatar 1988a: 111). When the Somali Revolutionary Socialist Party (SRSP) was founded to replace the SRC, the USSR immediately and publicly expressed disapproval regarding the composition of the Central Committee: there were too many members who were directly linked to Siyyad Barre, including too many of his clansmen and close kin. The Party was built on Maheran, Ogaden and Dhulbahante (MOD) backing (Marchal 1997: 220). Lewis (2002: 222) called the MOD-alliance an “apt formula to rule Somalia.” The Maheran were indispensable as the president’s own

22 For example the introduction of Somali as a written language and a language of administration, some development in the sectors of health and education. 50 chapter two lineage. Barre’s mother’s clan, the Ogaden, served to modulate Somali nationalism in the Ethiopian Ogaden. The Dhulbahante, as the clan of Siyyad Barre’s principal son-in-law, lived in a large area on the border between the former Protectorate and the Italian colony. The alliance with Dhulbahante political actors was useful for containing frictions between North and South (Lewis 2002b: 222).

3.3. Clanship-Mediated Political Survival in Cold War Proxy Conflict: The Ogaden War Ethiopia’s Ogaden region slid into a maelstrom, when in 1974 a revolution swept Emperor Haile Selassie from the Ethiopian throne. A socialist military junta, headed by Mengistu Haile Mariam, took over, but factional strife within the junta limited their control over Ethiopia’s territory. Ethiopia’s regional opposition movements in Tigray, Eritrea and the Ogaden, which had been kept fĳirmly in check by the Emperor, were left with more political and military room for action. The Ogaden’s Western Somali Liberation Front (WSLF) stepped up its activities to undo the colonial partition of the Somali lands and to reunify the Ogaden with Somalia to form a Greater Somalia. It did not take long before the WSLF became a political problem for Barre. Greater Somalia nationalism enjoyed widespread support in Somalia after the revolution (interview Gérard Prunier). It involved bringing together all Somali-speaking territories into one Somali nation state.23 Until 1974, while making due reference to the “missing territories,” Barre did not actively seek to retrieve them.24 Yet, when the post-revolutionary chaos in Ethiopia prompted the WSLF to intensify its guerrilla activities, Mogadishu was sucked in. Initially Barre fought offf pressure from his Ogadeni military offfĳicers to help the WSLF, but soon the Somali public, infatuated with the Greater Somalia idea, voiced its discontent with the way the Ogaden issue was being handled. After a failed attempt to settle the matter with Mengistu, the Somali discreetly started strengthening the WSLF with logistic aid (Brons 2001: 182). However, subsequent

23 The democratic Republic of Somalia, made up of the former British protectorate and the Italian colony, represented only two fĳifths of Somali speaking territories, represented in the fĳive-pointed star of the national flag. Somalis also inhabited the French Côte des Somalis, the Kenyan Northern Frontier District (NFD) and of course the Ethiopian Ogaden. 24 On the contrary, he sought to maintain good and workable relations with Kenya and Ethiopia, carefully cultivating his image of freedom fĳighter and pan-Africanist as he ascended to the chairmanship of the Organisation of African Unity in 1974 (Lewis 2002). the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 51

superpower repositioning in the Horn dragged the region into a torrent of events that plunged Somalia into an outright military conflict with Ethiopia. In 1977 Ethiopia fell out with the United States. All US installations were closed, all US personnel were declared personae non gratae and expelled. Cuban and Russian agents took over, supplying training and weapons to Ethiopian troops and placing Ethiopia squarely within the USSR sphere of influence. Soviet support for Ethiopia worried the Somali government very deeply and with reason: the Somali regime was entirely dependent on the Somali army, which was entirely dependent on Soviet assistance. Soviet support of Ethiopia also worried the WSLF guerrilla fĳighters. The prospect of having well-armed and well-trained troops fĳight- ing their insurrection, prompted them to step up military actions, while they might still be successful. As fĳighting intensifĳied, diplomatic relations between Mogadishu and Addis Ababa were broken offf amid accusations of Somali covert operations on Ethiopian territory. This was true to the extent that Somali units were active in the Ogaden, albeit in a clandestine manner. Nationalist sentiments reached a climax, however, and the war in the Ogaden became a national obsession. Although contributions to the war efffort were unofffĳicial, it had priority over all other activities. Civil servants and military men en masse were given extended leave to join guerrilla forces in Ethiopia. As pointed out by Lewis, there was no way back (Lewis 2002: 236). In September 1977 the WSLF, at the high point of their military power, managed to conquer the Ethiopian military headquarters for the Ogaden in Jigjiga. The following month, having fĳirst supplied arms to both Ethiopia and Somalia, the Soviet Union decided to stop deliveries to Somalia. As a result, Mogadishu broke offf its much-tested friendship with the Soviet Union. Siyyad Barre set his bet on a scenario that American aid would be forthcoming as soon as links with the Soviet Union and Cuba were sev- ered. The anticipated American aid, however, did not materialise. Offfers were made, but with a lot of strings attached, among which was the renunciation of any Greater Somalia-ambitions. Under the prevailing political circumstances this was obviously not an option (Lewis 2002: 236). Meanwhile, the influx of Russian and Cuban military personnel and supplies stymied the advances of the WSLF and the covert operations of the Somali military. Somalia fĳinally offfĳicially entered the war in February 1978, announcing a general mobilisation. With the help of Cuban-manned tanks and Migs Ethiopian forces drove the Somali troops—including the WSLF fĳighters—out of Ethiopia into northwest Somalia on 9 March 1978. 52 chapter two

The only protection the US was prepared to extend to Somalia was a verbal warning to the Soviet Union and Cuba not to cross the Somali border. Indeed, they did not. But the fall-out of the Ogaden War would prove utterly destructive for the Somali Republic and the vast majority of its population (Lewis 2002: 238). The end of the Ogaden War signalled the de facto end of the Greater Somalia state-building project and the beginning of an unprecedented privatisation of state power and resources. One of the fĳirst regions to sufffer the political consequences of the war was northwestern Somalia, predominantly inhabited by the Isaaq and now inundated by soldiers of a defeated Somali army and by the Ogaden militia from the defeated WSLF. Siyyad Barre tried to contain the Ogaden disaster within the northwestern region, far from Mogadishu, until the situation there was under control. Consequently, the Ogadeni militia and their refugee families were held there along with the Somali forces that had fought in the Ogaden. This move was partly to defend the border against a possible Ethiopian invasion, but it was also informed by the concern that the defeated troops might spread discontent in the south. However, this happened anyway. On 9 April 1978 forces garrisoned in the south, led by colonels of the Majeerteen, attempted a coup against Barre’s regime. Though the coup attempt was quickly aborted, not all the ringleaders were caught. The ones who escaped were to lay the basis of the fĳirst real opposition against the Barre regime in 1979, the Somali Salvation Front, which in 1981 became the Somali Salvation Democratic Front (SSDF).25 Threatened by the atmosphere of disillusion and discontent in the country, Siyyad Barre stepped up effforts to remain in control. One of the means he used to achieve this goal was to shrink the circle of political associates whom he relied on. In addition, several leading fĳighters from the WSLF were incorporated into the Somali National Army immediately after the war, thereby increasing the coercive powers and the political influence of the president, by strengthening of the MOD-alliance (Brons 2001: 184).

25 Also involved in the coup was Abdillahi Yusuf, who would become SSDF’s strong- man, president of the Somali state of Puntland in 1997 and in 2007 President of a yet another post-collapse powerless Somali government. the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 53

3.4. Clanship-Mediated Patronage and International Aid For the northwestern Isaaq population the post-war situation was truly disastrous. The continued presence of Ogaden refugees placed a heavy burden on the fragile local environment and ecosystems. Allegedly, the originally small Somali population of less than 4 million before the war, suddenly increased by a whopping 20–40 percent depending on the source (the organisations vs. the Somali government). This refugee crisis prompted Western donors to set up a massive humanitarian operation, which Siyyad Barre adroitly turned into a political instrument by distributing kickbacks and gatekeeper positions to selected political allies belonging to MOD-clans. Refugee camps were set up, and money started flowing in. These new fĳinancial resources were to be handled and distributed by the Somali government. The exact refugee fĳigures, therefore, became a political issue.26 The government claimed that there were at least one and a half million.27 The international community provided aid for 700,000 refugees but estimated the actual number at less than 400,000, as many refugees with a pastoral background repatriated spontaneously without registration or notice (Ambroso 2002: 4; Gersony 1989). Despite the strong suspicions that the Somali government was deliberately inflating refugee numbers, the international agencies kept paying up. Siyyad Barre skilfully used whatever strategic assets he could offfer to keep the cash flowing in and conceded Berbera airbase and port (both constructed by the Soviets) to the US. With this concession, the US turned a blind eye to the humanitarian scam (Maren 1997). In order to deal with the logistics of the refugee situation, the Somali government set up an administrative body exclusively dedicated to the task, the National Refugee Commission (NRC). The NRC was responsible for the administration of the humanitarian aid and the placement of refugees. Soon the Commission grew in size, with equally huge spoils to

26 The refugee situation occurred in a pastoral, nomadic setting, which made for a less than unambiguous situation for the international agencies to deal with. It was almost not possible to determine who exactly qualifĳied as a refugee and who did not. Cross-border migration was a permanent phenomenon in pastoral society and Ogaden Somalis were living on both sides of the border. Nationality was a very fluid concept anyway—clan membership was the only thing that was more or less clear. Moreover, along the extremely porous borders in the Horn, very few people were actually carrying any ID document at all. The actual number of refugees became a bone of contention between the Somali government and the international community. 27 The government estimate was cited in Legum 1980/81: 187. 54 chapter two distribute, and the NRC became one of the most important employers in the north. Political positions, jobs and contracts were given to people from outside the area, mainly Ogadenis or other Darod. Reno cites a United Nations Development Programme report contending that “100 million USD in relief aid to the refugees was distributed on the basis of clan leadership loyalties to Barre and was used to reinforce the control of regime favourites who were responsible for controlling distribution of relief aid in the camps” (Reno 2003: 17). The massive presence of pastoral refugees from outside the area, who also had to fĳind water and pasture for their herds in an environment which was already ecologically stretched, increased the tension. Isaaq herders were obliged to share their ‘traditional’ lands with Ogadeni. The government even took land from local populations to give to refugees (Maren 1997). By many accounts, the refugees were perceived to be better offf than the local population. Twenty years on, any good handbook about humanitarian intervention identifĳies this situation as one that should be avoided at all cost (Anderson 1996). But the situation was highly functional and perfectly suited to the divide and rule tactic practiced by the power circle around Siyyad Barre. As a source of patronage humanitarian aid (coming with no strings attached) was supplemented by funds generated by structural development aid. Despite the fact that Somalia had earned itself a reputation as a “graveyard of international aid,” money kept flowing in.28 Any conditions,, such as the ones imposed under the World Bank’s structural adjustment programmes by the end of the 1970s, were easily circumvented and appeared to provide even more opportunities for corruption. Structural adjustment opened avenues for privatisation of public assets to the ben- efĳit of government cronies (Marchal 1996: 28).

3.5. The Informal Economy as Another Source of Patronage The continuing influx of aid money and the measures taken in the guise of structural adjustment also provided Siyyad Barre with the possibility of

28 A detailed account can be found in Maren, 1997. Although this part of the story is usually omitted in analyses of international agencies such as the UN, the World Bank or the IMF, it is rightly noted by Maren, but also by Marchal (1996: 25) that the problem of corruption and misuse of funds is not exclusively a problem to be situated in the receiving country, as if it were only the receptor governments who lack administrative capacity or a basic moral consciousness. This said, despite receiving one of the highest per capita levels of foreign aid in the world, Somalia remained one of the poorest and least-developed countries. the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 55 benefĳiting from a developing clandestine parallel economy, linked to the offfĳicial economy, and controlled by the regime. Politically marginalised actors and government allies created their own informal economic networks. But the government and its cronies held the gatekeeper positions so that access to profĳit in the parallel economy (and therefore economic survival) was controlled by the regime. Again the northwestern Isaaq were hit rather hard. The main outlets for their all-important livestock trade (mainly with the Arabian Peninsula) were still in the northwest. The trade, which was the source of most of Somalia’s hard currency, was dominated by Isaaq merchants, as was the case under the British Protectorate. Despite the hard currency income generated by the livestock sector, there was still a serious balance of payments defĳicit. There was a chronic shortage of foreign exchange to import consumer goods from outside Somalia.29 To counteract this scarcity, in 1976 the military government introduced an unorthodox measure, known as the franco-valuta system. The system fed the import trade by permit- ting traders to buy foreign currency in parallel markets—not only bypassing the obligation to get an offfĳicial letter of credit from the Somali Commercial Bank but also avoiding the disadvantageous offfĳicial exchange rate. The traders were simply granted import licenses for a certain amount of goods purchased abroad with privately obtained foreign currency. Private foreign exchange reserves abroad could be obtained in diffferent ways. The black market came to play the most important source. One method was through a system of under-invoicing transactions in exported livestock. Part of the money paid for the merchandise would stay abroad in a Saudi Bank. Another method was to use the foreign currency earned by migrant workers abroad (Piguet 2000: 272). The majority of the 375,000 Somali immigrant workers in the Gulf were Isaaq, who sent home remittances amounting to 338 million USD in 1985, about fĳifteen times the entire wage bill for the country’s formal sector (Jamal 1988: 239). Import traders used migrant workers’ money for purchasing the consumer goods they wanted to import into Somalia. The equivalent in Somali currency (or in kind, as consumer goods) was then, handed over to the migrants’ families, mostly via middlemen. The exchange rate was negotiated between the migrants who remitted the money and the

29 Import of consumer goods and foodstufffs was vital to the survival of the population since many of the necessary commodities were not produced domestically, see the account of the shift of pastoral production from a subsistence– to a trade-based production pattern in Samatar Abdi Ismail (1988b). 56 chapter two

traders, bypassing the offfĳicial exchange rate. The transaction was guaranteed by clanship ties and avoided offfĳicial channels (Brons 2001: 192; Compagnon 1992: 510). Half the goods imported under the franco-valuta system were not offfĳicially declared. This was possible because offfĳicials were bribed to disregard the absence of import licenses. A lot of the goods were smuggled in through smaller ports, where clients of the regime could be rewarded with gatekeeper posts as customs offfĳicers. The income from bribes that came with these jobs served to supplement the offfĳicial income of these state employees, the real value of whose salaries had fallen sharply as a result of rampant inflation (Compagnon 1992: 510; Marchal 1996: 25). Import licensing, however often it was evaded, was yet another tool for creating patronage opportunities. The government decided who would get a license and who would not. Barre used this and other forms of uncer- tainty to enhance his personal control (Reno 2003: 21). Through his coercive apparatus he could at any time squelch any particular group or individual who potentially posed a threat to the regime. In 1982, the franco-valuta system was suddenly suspended—only to be reinstated in 1984 and then suspended again a few months later. These measures hit Isaaq traders, who controlled an important share of the import and export business, particularly hard. In addition, the regime re-established the letter of credit system obtained through the Somali Commercial Bank. This measure was designed neither to stop the misuse of desperately needed hard currency nor to comply with International Monetary Fund/World Bank guidelines, but to make the issuing of these letters of credit a new source of patronage (Marchal 1996: 24). In February 1982 the parallel trade—known and condoned by the government-provided the government with a pretext for the regime to confĳiscate a large amount of contraband in Berbera port that belonged to Isaaq traders. The seized goods were worth 300 million Somali shillings, or, at the offfĳicial exchange rate, 50 million USD (much more at the black market rate). Also in 1982, only 22 import licenses were granted to Isaaq merchants, and their activities were restricted to foodstufffs with a small profĳit margin, such as rice. As a result, Isaaq traders had to rely even more on contraband, considerably increasing their economic and political risks in doing business. To add to their risks, the government also prohibited the production and sale of qaad (Compagnon 1992: 511).30

30 Qaad chewing, a practice which is also very common in Yemen, was introduced to the northwestern Somali coast in the late nineteenth century by Sufĳi religious masters the failing state. what has clan got to do with it? 57

The authors of the United Nations Development Programme’s Somalia 2001 Human Development Report—extremely well-informed on the dynamics of the region—point out how an ambivalent relationship developed between the government and the business-class in Somalia during the 1980s. It was at once symbiotic and antagonistic. Most practices of the business-people, be they livestock exporters or food importers, were at least partly illegal but protected through political patronage. At the same time major economic actors were denied any political authority or representation in the power circles of the regime. The regime was also able to force out businesspeople who did not support the government (UNDP 2001: 143). Its high-handed and apparently arbitrary behaviour toward business people caused the tradesmen to remain cautious. Their position, particularly of the Isaaq, was further complicated by the behaviour of the Barre regime toward their clansmen in the north, who increasingly were singled out for political oppression. This made for serious problems because traders were dependent on a network of clan middlemen to conduct the illegal parts of their business, without which they could not make a profĳit or even survive. The emergence of opposition movements (civil as well as armed) in the northwest and the violent behaviour of the military regime made this dilemma even more pressing.

D. Concluding Remarks: Failed State Building?

Was it clanship that made Somalia fail as a state? This may be the wrong question altogether. The historical analysis of state development in the Somali context shows how state and clanship are part of the same story, part of the same political dynamic—from the very beginning. They function and interact in the same polity. They have changed each other, certainly. Colonial manipulation changed clanship and its institutions.

who chewed it to enhance their religious concentration while performing the Sufĳi rites. Later on, this habit was reinvented as the male population’s preferred platform for social- ising. Every week, usually at Thursday afternoons—the start of the Muslim weekend, small groups of men sat together to chew and talk. Qaad was traditionally produced in the Ethiopian highlands, the hills northeast of Mount Kenya and the mountains of Yemen. As the Saudi oil boom increased family incomes via the remittances of the labour migrants, consumption patterns changed and the demand for qaad rose. Northwestern farmers started to cultivate qaad too, until the government banned it. The government’s proclaimed reasons for doing so—health concerns—were dismissed by the Isaaq population who suspected political motives behind the move as many of the farmers were Isaaq. See Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development, 2002c: 31. 58 chapter two

The Somali response to this has changed the imported state as well. Both spheres and discourses profoundly merge and function together, leading the Somali state away from modern statehood, as donors consider it. They were also profoundly merged when political actors excluded from power and access to resources set up (or joined with clan-based armed groups to remove Siyyad Barre from power. CHAPTER THREE

THE EMERGENCE OF THE SOMALI NATIONAL MOVEMENT AS A CLAN-SUPPORTED OPPOSITION FORCE

Since the mid-1990s Somaliland’s capital Hargeysa has ceased to be the theatre of large-scale fĳighting. Yet, when I visited the city for the fĳirst time in the Spring of 2001 remnants of war were still abound, despite the rapid pace of renovation, construction and redevelopment. Walls were pock- marked with bullet holes. The ruins of the National Theatre and the former maternity hospital stand witness to the degree of destruction that struck the city. On the main road, just before entering the busy city centre, sits the fuselage of a Russian Mig fĳighter jet mounted on a pedestal. A war trophy shot down by the guerrilla fĳighters of the Somali National Movement (SNM) during armed conflict with the government of Siyyad Barre which lasted for much of the 1980s until the collapse of the Barre regime in 1991. The pedestal features mural paintings depicting scenes of the air bombardment on Hargeysa in the summer of 1988. Apart from its traumatizing efffects on the local population, the 1988 air bombardment marked the moment when the Somali National Movement fĳinally succeeded in including and mobilizing the entire Isaaq population in northwestern Somalia. Success resulted from two factors: SNM’s involvement of the Isaaq clan elders on the ground and Siyyad Barre’s indiscriminate and brutal persecution tactics against the Isaaq, efffectively pushing their clan elders (and the entire population) in the arms of the SNM. In the previous chapter I have shown how the Somali state became defĳined by clan-based patronage and political control. In this chapter I will show how the opposition against that increasingly violent and exclusive system became clan-based as well. As will become clear, this was not a matter of some sort of backsliding into ancient clan feuding. The SNM evolved from a diaspora-based guerrilla force led by elites and politicians sidelined by the Barre regime to a clan-based armed grassroots movement dependent on the support of Isaaq clan elders. The SNM was not set up as an Isaaq movement as such. Several successful attempts were undertaken to broaden the clan base of its top leadership beyond the Isaaq. It became an Isaaq movement however, as it grew increasingly 60 chapter three hybrid, involving Isaaq clan elders in its operations and leadership. This hybridisation was the result of two things: fĳirstly, as Isaaq politicians vied for top posts within the organisation supported by their clan constituencies, the organisation became threatened by these internal tensions. It was decided to involve the Isaaq clan elders to mediate. Secondly, the SNM needed the elders for their military operations inside Isaaq territory. The SNM had neither contacts on the ground nor the popular legitimacy to lead an uprising. Without the elders, SNM could not win the war. As the Isaaq elders grew to play an increasingly important role in the war and the SNM, the war became hybrid too. It became a war fought by militias on both sides, the Isaaq aligned with the SNM on one side and the clan militia of clans supporting Siyyad Barre on the other. In this context, clan elders became central power brokers and efffective political competitors to the original SNM leadership, consisting of expatriate professionals, ex-Somali military and ex-high ranking state offfĳicials.

A. Growing Oppositions in the Northwest

As Siyyad Barre’s power circle tightened during and after the Ogaden War, its political and economic hold on the predominantly Isaaq- inhabited northwest of Somalia became increasingly sufffocating. First, the tightening of the power circle disenfranchised political, military and business elites that had previously shared in the spoils of the Mogadishu government. The disenfranchised elites would form the SNM in the Somali diaspora (notably Saudi Arabia and the United Kingdom). Secondly, the total neglect of the social and economic needs of the local population in the Northwest, combined with political and military sup- pression, mobilized local protests. On the ground, inside northwestern Somalia, local urban intellectuals and professionals tried to address the population’s dire situation. Their actions attracted the wrath of the government, leading to stand-offfs between the regime and angry citizens and violent military crackdowns of the regime against its own population.

1.1. Local Civil Initiatives: The Hargeysa Self-Help Group At this point in time however, the movement in the diaspora and the movement on the ground were unconnected. SNM focused on getting a share in the Mogadishu government by military force. The urban movement on the ground addressed a local situation, by civil means and unre- lated to SNM’s agenda or strategies. SNM lacked the organisational the emergence of the somali national movement 61 capacity or credibility to incorporate it. People in rural areas were not implicated in any protests or guerrilla operations at all—they just tried to survive (Compagnon 1992: 515, 521). Only when SNM later moved to involve the Isaaq clan elders, the situation changed. In 1980, Siyyad Barre declared a state of emergency, calling on the Ogaden refugee crisis for justifĳication. Power was now de facto limited to the president’s immediate circle. The governor of the Northwest was replaced by a military commander, one of Siyyad Barre’s clansmen, General Mohammed Haashi Gani, who initiated a brutal and ruthless reign of terror in the Northwest. The entire state security apparatus in the Northwest was turned against the Isaaq, while Ogadeni regime clients continued to be given property, land and economic favours at the Isaaq’s expense. Ordinary people were harassed and mistreated. The military government introduced a curfew, seized property, randomly arrested and killed Isaaq as it saw fĳit.1 Hargeysa was barely limping. The city, which had sufffered heavily from Ethiopian air bombardments during the 1970s Ogaden War had no ade- quate infrastructure to distribute water or electricity. International agencies were only mandated to assist Ogadeni refugees from Ethiopia. Many teachers, one of the few professional classes left, were so underpaid that many left their posts for better jobs in Yemen or the United Arab Emirates. Medical services were woefully inadequate. The local population was largely left to its own devices. Patients who wished to be admitted to the Hargeysa Regional Hospital had to provide their own bed, meals and drugs. In 1981 a remaining group of young Isaaq professionals, appalled at the government’s unwillingness to provide social services for the Northern population took the initiative to mend the situation (Lewis 1994b: 205). According to an account by Jama (2003: 24) they were engineers, medical doctors, economists, businessmen and civil servants in their early thirties. Some of them had just completed their education abroad; others had been posted in Hargeysa. Many of them were government-employed as teachers or as doctors in Hargeysa Regional Hospital. The group set up a campaign to mobilise volunteers and clean the hospital compound and drainage system. This initiative was not directed against the government: the group avoided direct confrontation with the regime and even involved the local authorities. The government radio

1 A detailed account of the policies of the military government in the Northwest is given in the human rights report published by Africa Watch (a subsidiary of Human Rights Watch) published in 1990. 62 chapter three was used to announce their activities. Reportedly the activities of the Hargeysa self-help group enjoyed the support of the population, as well as of an international NGO referred to as German Emergency Doctors. In Hargeysa itself, the Hargeysa self-help group was better known under its nickname Ufffo (whirlwind), the slogan they used for mobilisation. Local businessmen and community leaders collected funds for other self-help projects designed to improve public services (Jama 2003: 22). The military government initially seemed to tolerate the Ufffo activities. Soon this policy came an end. The authorities came to suspect a link between Ufffo and the UK-based SNM, because Ufffo’s fĳirst initiatives coincided with the appearance of the fĳirst illegal newspaper in the North, called Somalia Uncensored, published by the SNM. The authorities now cracked down on Ufffo’s supposed “ringleaders.” Twenty-nine people were arrested, amongst whom was the director of Hargeysa Regional Hospital and several doctors who were members of stafff. They were accused of subversive activities and of belonging to an illegal organisation, Ragga u Dhashay Magaalada (‘Men born for the city’). Two of the arrested men were accused of printing, reading and distributing anti-government pamphlets designed to prepare the ground for the anti-government propaganda organised by the Somali Diaspora, i.e. the SNM (Jama 2003: 47). The arrests shocked Hargeysa. Paintings and slogans started to appear on city walls. Students distributed posters and flyers. After four months of interrogation under torture at the hands of Siyyad Barre’s National Security Service (NSS) the twenty-nine were scheduled to be brought to trial on the 20th of February 1982. The accusations against some of the detainees carried a mandatory death sentence. It was well known that the accused did not stand a chance to a fair trial, as they would be brought before the National Security Court, which was guaranteed to pass a ver- dict ordered by the president. Protest erupted in the city: students staged demonstrations, encouraged by a general atmosphere of disorder and civil disobedience. The protests were met with violent government retaliation: army regulars and members of the so-called “Victory Pioneers” (government-paid vigilantes) deployed tanks and fĳired into the crowds killing a number of demonstrators.2 Despite the arrest of 400 students, all of secondary school level, the disturbances continued. After two days, the students in the second city of the Northwest, Bur’o, joined the protest, assaulting government buildings

2 According to the Indian Ocean Newsletter (27/02/1982), 100 people were killed. the emergence of the somali national movement 63 and cars and hurling rocks at the police (Compagnon 1992: 515).3 The student protest was joined by an increasing number of townspeople. The government eventually smashed the protests, and declared once more4 a state of emergency in the North. The region was placed under the jurisdiction of military tribunals and military police. The security apparatus was expanded with a Mobile Military Court, the Regional Security Council which was mandated to hand down death sentences, and fĳinally the Hangash, the military intelligence branch also known as the Dhabar Jabinta or “back breakers” (Jama 2003: 13).5 The court proceedings against the alleged Dhashay Magaalada members were resumed on 28 February 1982, with all defendants pleading not guilty. One week later verdicts were passed: none of the arrested intellectuals were to be executed; most of them were given prison sentences in Labaatan Jirow maximum security prison south of Mogadishu. Yet, it seems that the confrontations between the government and the Isaaq population in Hargeysa had already passed a point of no return. Student protest and public anger kept bringing on confrontations with the police. Serious trouble broke out when three students were sentenced to death on the charge of carrying anti-government tracts. April 1982 saw again violent reprisals against groups of students and townspeople, who pillaged government buildings and the offfĳices of Somali Airlines. A BBC Africa Service correspondent reported approximately twelve demonstrators killed by the army.6 Northern military personnel and civil servants started to rebel as well. The government summarily executed eleven offfĳicials on charges of complicity with exiled Somali opposition movements, including the commander of Berbera zone. Following the executions, a strike broke out among dockworkers and there were seven barrack uprisings. Troops brought over from Mogadishu subsequently took over six army camps, and the Togwajaale military camp on the border with Ethiopia was virtually emptied when many offfĳicers and soldiers fled to Djibouti and Ethiopia.7 Although no indication has been found of any direct connection between

3 This episode is known in Hargeysa as the Dhagah Tuur (stone throwing) protest. 4 The nation-wide state of emergency, which had lasted for 16 months had previously been lifted because Siyyad Barre wanted to make a good impression on his donors when preparing for a state visit to the United states, France and Italy (Indian Ocean Newsletter 04/09/1981). 5 This source also provides more detailed explanations about these courts and forces. 6 Indian Ocean Newsletter 24/04/1982. 7 Indian Ocean Newsletter 20/02/1982. 64 chapter three these Hargeysa uprisings and the activities of the SNM, the regime continued to suspect that there was.

1.2. The SNM in the Saudi and London Diaspora: The Early Years The Somali National Movement was founded by Isaaq intellectuals in Saudi Arabia in 1979. In the mid-1970s the Saudi economy was booming, and skilled and unskilled labourers from Somalia moved en masse to Saudi Arabia. An important portion of them were Isaaq from the Northwest. The Isaaq intellectuals worked as doctors, engineers and university professors, while unskilled labourers worked mainly in the construction industry. When they moved to Saudi Arabia, the crackdown by the Somali regime on the Isaaq had not yet started in full force. Under the British Protectorate the Isaaq clans had lost the Haud region to Ethiopia, so they in fact took part in the Ogaden War enthusiastically and without reserva- tions. Any political competition with the Barre regime was largely an urban matter which did not afffect the life of the majority of the population who were living a nomadic life.8 As the political situation in Somalia, particularly in the northwest, started deteriorating after the Ogaden War, like-minded Isaaq intellectuals in the Saudi diaspora began meeting on Friday afternoons in private houses and tea shops in Riyadh, Jeddah and other Saudi cities to discuss the situation. Participants recall how some vague projects were suggested, such as starting an opposition newspaper or setting up some kind of Isaaq opposition organisation.9 Initially these proposals met with only luke- warm enthusiasm: an SNM founder recalls that the Isaaq intellectuals were mistrusted by their unskilled clansmen who were very sceptical about the initiative and the credibility of a united ‘Isaaq’ organisation. They doubted that all the Isaaq subclans would ever be able to agree to a common organisation or leadership. Men of the other northern clans had been invited to join the opposition, too, but for similar reasons, they had even less incentive to do so.10

8 Not only did Somalia fail to bring the Ogaden within its frontiers, on 27 June 1977, at the high point of the Ogaden crisis, the French-administered Côte des Somalis won its independence. Immediately the new state of Djibouti fĳirmly asserted its independence from Ethiopia, but also from Somalia. There was no way that Djibouti would decide to join the Somali motherland. 9 Mohammed Haashi Elmi, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; Saad Noor, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; and Osman Ahmed Hassan, interview, London 27/06/2004. 10 Saad Noor, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003. See also Lewis (1994: 182). the emergence of the somali national movement 65

In 1979 news from Isaaq relatives in northwestern Somalia became a cause for worry, and calls for concrete action materialized into a formal organisation that brought together the numerous small discussion groups in Saudi Arabia. The group was initially known as the Somali Democratic Islamic Movement, though there was no general agreement on that name. Many did not want to burden the organisation with the qualifĳication “Islamic.” Others took issue with the term “democratic” or with the combination of “Islamic” and “democratic.”11 At the fĳirst congress in Jeddah the name of this burgeoning party was changed to the Somalia National Movement (SNM), and a call to action proposed funding three stafff members, men who would quit their jobs in Saudi Arabia to devote their time to the movement. The movement would pay to resettle and support these men and their families in Egypt, where they were to expand membership, publicize the movement and establish contacts with the Somali Diaspora outside Saudi Arabia, notably the United Kingdom, which hosted a small but potentially vocal Somali community.12 Funds to support the movement were collected from wealthy individuals, but most were collected on clan/subclan basis. The system worked more or less like the diya payments: amounts set for each particular subclan of the Isaaq, would then be collected from the clansmen (each according to his possibilities) resident in the Gulf. Working like this, the SNM from its inception was fully “community-supported.”13 Yet, it also implied that membership became increasingly a clan-based membership (Lewis 1994b: 182). Some prominent men from non-Isaaq clans (Dhulbahante and Gadabursi) were invited to join, but they were not able to “carry their clans with them.”14As well, a few prominent Hawiye wanted to set up their own organisation and then make a united opposition front with the SNM opposition. None of it materialised.15 Early SNM leaders such as Saad Noor and Mohammed Haashi Elmi insisted that they did not purposely seek to set up an Isaaq movement—it just seemed impossible to bring any non-Isaaqs on board.16

11 Saad Noor, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003. 12 Saad Noor, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; and Osman Ahmed Hassan, interview, London 27/06/2004. 13 Saad Noor, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003. 14 Osman Ahmed Hassan, interview, London 27/06/2004. For example, Mohammed Ahmed Abdille and Garaad Ali Garaad Jama Garaad Ali, two prominent Dhulbahante men had been eager to join, the same had been the case for one or two Gadabursi. 15 Osman Ahmed Hassan, interview, London 27/06/2004. 16 Mohammed Haashi Elmi, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; and Saad Noor, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003 66 chapter three

By early 1981, an SNM delegation was sent from Saudi Arabia to visit compatriots in London. The idea was to launch a diaspora-wide political movement from the UK, where it was legal to establish political organisations in contrast to the situation in Saudi Arabia. Lewis’s work on the London Somali Diaspora, perhaps the only research that exists on this population, reveals how diffferent in nature and structure it was from the Saudi diaspora.17 Somalis in the UK were primarily students and retired seamen who had worked for the British merchant navy, and their families. According to Lewis the seeds of political activity were planted by some fĳive intellectuals of the Isaaq clan in London (Lewis 1994b: 185). In 1979 these intellectuals formed the Somali National Democratic Party (which Lewis refers to by the acronym SNUP)18 as an anti-government group. In order to win support for their cause, SNUP sought to recruit the group of seamen because they were regarded as clan elders, the backbone of the Somali community in the UK, mostly from Togdheer region. Their effforts were buoyed by the announcement of the Somali embassy that the price of Somali passports would be increased to 71 British pounds, a pro- hibitively expensive fee for working class seamen. Without passports, seamen would neither be able to work nor return to Somalia. SNUP skilfully exploited this situation and managed to meld the seamen, the members of SNUP and anti-government Somali students into a political opposition group, the Somali-London Association. Although initially the organisation also included non-Isaaq members in its central committee, they quickly left under pressure from the Somali Embassy, opening the way for government accusations of “tribalism” (Lewis 1994b: 185). On 10 August, 1980, the Somali-London Association decided to stage a demonstration protesting the increase in passport fees and the situation in Somalia generally. It was difffĳicult to obtain the seamen’s support as they were, because of the nature of their job, dependent on the Somali Embassy which tried to destroy the Association. The Association also started causing concern in Mogadishu. Siyyad Barre discreetly sent his minister of commerce, Ahmed Mohammed (a.k.a. ‘Silanyo,’ ‘Skinny Lizard’), to try and dismantle it. As a politician from Togdheer region and member of the Isaaq/Habar Ja’lo clan, Silanyo talked to the Somali expats

17 Published as chapter three, titled The rise of the Somali National Movement. A case study in clan politics in Lewis (1994). 18 In his discussion of the precursors of the actual SNM, Lewis (1994b) indicates that much of this early history is unclear and organisations or groups, or names of groups referred to by his interviewees are inconsistent. the emergence of the somali national movement 67 in an efffort to convince them not to participate in the demonstration. Yet, the minister played a double game. Silanyo had the reputation of opposing the regime from within the cabinet, of being a “reformer” (Compagnon 1992: 506). According to Lewis (1994b: 189), Silanyo had a fairly clean image and was not suspected of being involved in acts of violence or embezzlement. Reportedly, he told the expats that things were being worked on in Mogadishu and that a militant demonstration could back- fĳire on those working for change. Eventually, the demonstration did take place anyway, but it did not cause much of a stir (Lewis 1994b: 194). One week later the Somali-London Association proceeded to form a new organisation, the UK Somali Welfare Association—bringing together people from all the Somali communities (clans) represented in the UK. The chairman was a Dhulbahante. From Lewis’s account it is not clear what exactly the purpose of the organisation was, nor was it very long-lived. In November 1980, members of the Somali-London Association founded the Somali National Party (SNP). De facto, the SNP was an Isaaq body. However, some of the leadership did not think using clan as an organising principle, was a good idea. According to Lewis, the rank and fĳile (notably the seamen) were more conservative and clan just seemed the only viable way to get any organisation up and going (Lewis 1994b: 194).

1.3. The Somali National Movement: The Clan Factor in SNM Leadership and Representation The contacts between the Saudi SNM and the London SNP groups eventually resulted in the formal launch of the SNM in London. The press release announcing the launch amounted to a declaration of war against the rule of Siyyad Barre but referred to Somalia as a whole, rather than concentrating on the situation in the Northwest. SNM’s focus was on Mogadishu and Somalia, not on the North West or the Isaaq areas in particular. On 18 October 1981 the movement held its fĳirst proper conference at the International Student Union of London University. The position paper released after the conference stated that any Somali “who believes in the objectives and principles of SNM” would be eligible for membership (Lewis 1994b: 198–199). Yet, the SNM remained overwhelmingly Isaaq, despite such moves to broaden its base. Though the SNM was not founded as an Isaaq clan movement, clan institutions appeared to be considered as possibly able contribute to administration and governance in Somalia after the liberation from 68 chapter three military rule. According to Lewis (1994b: 199), “the offfĳicial statement (…) referred very realistically to the fundamental clan fabric of the Somali ‘traditional’ [sic] political system.” The SNM sought to combine “the advan- tages of Somali democracy and egalitarianism with the benefĳits of modern national government.” The idea thus was to use the traditional heer system on a national level (Lewis 1994b: 200). Though how this transformation would be accomplished was unclear. Government had to be radically decentralised, to be sure Somalia was to remain a strong unitary state, but the central level was to hand over legislative and executive powers to lower levels of government to ensure that populations could not be dominated any more by an uninterested, selfĳish and destructive central power. “Isaaq nationalism” remained controversial as an ideology or a politico- military strategy on the national level. Although outright Isaaq secession was not contemplated (Samatar 1997: 25), a clear undercurrent of Isaaq nationalism or, perhaps more aptly, “Isaaqism” existed. Not everybody within the SNM leadership was pleased with that for philosophical as well as strategic reasons. “Liberals” in the movement objected to the demonis- ing of the Darod, who were part of the so-called MOD-alliance and the Isaaqs’ immediate neighbours in Northern Somalia. They felt that an isolated Isaaq movement would never be able to topple the Barre regime on its own. Isaaqism could be used as an ideological tool to convince the rank and fĳile, but it should not become the guiding principle of the movement’s leadership (Lewis 1994: 200). Thus, clanism remained a central consideration, not only in relation to other clans but also among the Isaaq themselves. To make sure everyone was on board, it was paramount to keep an equitable clan distribution when appointing the SNM leadership. Each of the main Isaaq clans was to have a share in the power structure. The election of the members of the fĳirst Executive Committee resulted in three posts for the Habar Awal, two for the Habar Yunis, two for the Habar Ja’lo and one for the Arap clan (Lewis 1994b: 200). What constituted a ‘fair’ distribution of posts was however, a subject of continuous discussion and argument over the weight to be given to various elements—numerical, genealogical, geographical— as bases for allocation. This phenomenon would persist throughout the lifetime of the movement and beyond.

1.4. SNM Struggling with Itself, Military Strategy and Cold War Geopolitics Apart from the leadership issue, SNM faced a strategic and ideological dilemma as well. London is far from Somalia. Soon the question arose the emergence of the somali national movement 69 whether it would be at all possible to topple a regime from thousands of kilometres away. It was suggested the SNM headquarters move to Ethiopia, which was also the base of the Somali Salvation Democratic Front19 (SSDF), the Majeerteen-dominated opposition force led by Abdillahi Yusuf. Both SNM and SSDF aimed for a share in a post-Barre government in Mogadishu. They were Siyyad Barre’s competitors and one another’s. SNM had much to learn from SSDF’s experiences with its Ethiopian hosts. Dependence on a foreign patron (Ethiopia in particular) created unease and the decision to move SNM’s base of operation was not made easily. Originally born from the aborted coup after the Ogaden War, the SSDF was a purely military organisation. It consisted of a fĳighting force of a few hundred men, increasing to about 4,000 later. The Libyan government offfered assistance in small arms and training because President Barre provided asylum to Libyan opposition members. In contrast to Libyan aid, Ethiopian support to SSDF was much more controversial within the Somali population. Ethiopian backing and the fact that SSDF operated from Ethiopian bases were seen as serious problems, given the long history of conflicts between Somalia and Ethiopia. Should SNM decide to move its base to Ethiopia, it would face a similar public relations challenge. However, operating from Ethiopia was expected to make it much easier for SNM to establish a support base among the Somali population. In contrast to SSDF, the SNM had no contacts with the population inside or anywhere near Somalia.20 Consequently, the Barre regime considered the London-based SNM as an international relations nuisance, and hardly a real political or military threat at home. The pro-Ethiopia faction expected to receive a warm welcome from the Ethiopian president Mengistu, because SNM would be an objective ally in the war against Siyyad Barre and the anti-Ethiopian guerrilla movements it supported.21 After heated debates, the proponents of the move to Ethiopia won the argument. The suspicion that Mengistu would want to use SNM in his proxy war against Siyyad Barre was confĳirmed very quickly. The SNM was welcomed to Ethiopia in February 1982 and started its operations from the Ethiopia Hotel in Addis Ababa. In return for the sanctuary, the Ethiopian government expected a degree of compliance with Ethiopian direction.

19 Formerly Somali Salvation Front (SSF) 20 Indian Ocean Newsletter 11/07/1981. 21 Notably the Western Somali Liberation Front. 70 chapter three

Immediately after the transfer to Addis, the SNM leadership had to face the question of to how to relate to the SSDF, also based in Addis. Mengistu urged them to merge. Delegations of the SSDF and the SNM met from March to April 1982 and an agreement was signed stipulating that a working group would draft a proposal for a merger, to be discussed in a general congress three months later.22 The SNM, however, hesitated to move ahead with the merger. SNM and SSDF had completely diffferent organisational cultures: SSDF was an armed guerrilla movement, founded and led by military men, and SNM was a civilian movement, led by former government offfĳicials and intellectuals. SNM, although it had a clear ‘Islamic’ bias inherited from its Saudi-based origins, was perceived—and proclaimed itself to be pro- western.23 SSDF, on the other hand, had a pro-Soviet orientation, although this seemed more a question of pragmatism than ideological conviction.24 Since most Somali army offfĳicers had been trained in the Soviet Union, their familiarity with the enemy of the West made them a natural ally for Barre’s enemies, too. Finally, some Isaaq SNM leaders saw SSDF as a “Southern” movement, a grudge that went back to he union of the former British Protectorate and the Italian Trust Territory in 1960, when the South was seen to have gained a disproportionate political advantage.25 SNM objections were of no concern whatsoever to the Ethiopian president, who continued to insist on the merger. SSDF was very much in favour of a merger too, with the understanding that its leadership would keep the upper hand in the unifĳied organisation. In October 1982 SSDF announced an agreement with SNM. The new one did not go beyond the one that had been signed a few months before. In fact, a week later it turned out that the agreement did not even exist and that the SSDF had made it up. Ethiopian patience with the foot-dragging of the SNM began to run out. Ethiopia insisted on the two movements joining forces, because then Libya would pay for SNM too. They were already paying for

22 Mohammed Haashi Elmi, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; Indian Ocean Newsletter 24/04/1982. 23 That was still a conceivable, quite natural combination at the time, e.g. the US alliances with for example the mujahedeen in Afghanistan. 24 SSDF was the result of a merger (in mid-October 1981) between three anti-government exile groups. The Somali Salvation Front (SOSAF), the original military force led by Abdillahi Yusuf joined with two others, the Somali Working People’s Party (based in Aden) and the Somali Democratic Party (based in Eastern Europe) (Indian Ocean Newsletter 07/11/1981). 25 Mohammed Haashi Elmi, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; Indian Ocean Newsletter 14/08/1982. the emergence of the somali national movement 71 the SSDF, providing money, tanks, technicals26 and anti-aircraft guns. In October 1982 representatives of the two movements were summoned to Tripoli to meet with the Libyan government. If the two did not merge, neither would receive anything. Another agreement between SSDF and SNM was signed on the 30th of October. Despite the fact that this agreement amounted to nothing like a merger, this was apparently enough to get the Libyan government to support SNM with arms as well.27 Relations between the opposition movements and Ethiopia were less straightforward. Addis had a clear interest in weakening Somalia as a state, so it would become less of a threat to Ethiopia itself. Replacing one Somali government with an even stronger one did not make sense. The SSDF nevertheless depended heavily on Ethiopian support for their military operations inside Somalia. In the course of July 1982, armed conflicts were reported in almost all border regions: Togdheer, Mudug, Gargagud, Hiran, Bakool and Gedo. The SSDF claimed responsibility for all the attacks. Taking into account the sheer length of the border (about 1500 km) and the estimated manpower of the SSDF (3000 men), this was all but impossible. Moreover, the SSDF was never known to operate beyond Galkaiyo. Therefore it can be safely assumed that the SSDF enjoyed very signifĳicant backing from the Ethiopian army with artillery, aviation and even ground troops. But, despite these SSDF attacks with massive Ethiopian backing, the Somali regime remained in place.28 The former SNM leadership claims to have remained much more independent from Ethiopia than the SSDF. Whereas the SSDF stayed close to Ethiopian garrisons and indeed carried out joint operations, SNM operated in a diffferent way. SNM military operations against Siyyad Barre started much later than those of the SSDF. Until at least August 1982, SSDF had been doing all the fĳighting. SNM had been busy getting its headquarters organised. Yet, as more Isaaq military personnel started defecting from the Somali National Army, the SNM developed its military capacity too. This military capacity was greatly boosted when four Isaaq colonels

26 Pick-up trucks mounted with large calibre machine guns. 27 Mohammed Haashi Elmi, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; Indian Ocean Newsletter 16/10/1982, 23/10/1982, 30/10/1982. 28 Indian Ocean Newsletter 24/07/1982. In the absence of support from its Western ‘allies’ who were not prepared to help Barre fĳight offf the Ethiopian/Soviet Union backed SSDF guerrilla, the Somali regime turned to the Arab states for help—notably Egypt, which would be able to help out with Soviet-made weapons and spare parts. President Nimeri of Sudan expressed his support for Barre. 72 chapter three from the Somali National Army crossed the border to Ethiopia to join the SNM.29 Many others would follow. According to one of the SNM leaders in Ethiopia, the SNM leadership found out only later that the desertions of Isaaq offfĳicers were a concerted operation, led by Isaaq army offfĳicers and Isaaq senior government offfĳi- cials in Mogadishu.30 In October 1982, Radio Halgan, the joint press organ of SNM and SSDF, announced that “200 members of the 4th battalion of the government militia as well as soldiers from the armed forces had joined the ranks of the SNM.” The deserters from the Somali forces allegedly fled with their weapons and communication equipment, as well as many heads of livestock and 60,000 Somali Shillings collected by the government troops to support the war efffort.31 The apparent control of the Mogadishu-based Isaaq military caused some unrest among the civilian SNM leadership in Ethiopia, who feared that they would loose the initiative to the military.32 Tensions between SNM’s so called civilian and military factions would play a role in SNM’s internal power struggles after the war against Barre. But for a while to come, big military successes that might bring about the downfall of the Barre government did not happen. The situation forced the SNM leadership to allow a pragmatic shift in the organisation’s leadership structure.

B. Becoming Isaaq

As we have seen, SNM started out as a Diaspora-elite undertaking in which the prize of the war would be a stake in a post-Barre government in Mogadishu. Competition within the SNM leadership was intense. As always, clan was an important factor, a mobilizer, a focal point around which the protagonists rallied support. Modestly and hesitatingly at fĳirst, clan elders mediated between politicians competing for SNM top

29 Mohammed Haashi Elmi, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003. According to Mohammed Haashi, these four colonels were Ahmed Raghe, Aden ‘China,’ Mohammed Kahin and Muse Nadiif (Haashi). According to Lewis (1994a: 218) they were Mohammed Kahin (Habar Ja’lo), Aden Shine (Habar Awal), Ahmed Raghe and Adan Suleyman (Habar Ja’lo). 30 Notably General Ismail Ali Abokor. As pointed out by Bryden (1994d: 35), Isaaq offfĳic- ers had organised themselves in the Afaraad, the Fourth Brigade of the Western Somali Liberation Front. The Afaraad was founded by the Isaaq offfĳicers in order to protect Isaaq interests. It secured weapons from the Somali government in order to defend the Isaaq. 31 Indian Ocean Newsletter 30/09/1982. 32 Osman Ahmed Hassan, interview, London 27/06/2004. the emergence of the somali national movement 73 leadership. In return, clan elders were given an advisory role in the movement. Their role grew steadily over time. As the SNM was pushed forward into Somali territory became les and less able to rely on external resources, the support of the clan elders, politically as well as logistically, became indispensible to the war efffort. Thus the SNM morphed into a broader popular Isaaq movement.

2.1. Elite Competition for Mogadishu Power The fĳirst big military success attributed to the SNM forces was the early 1983 attack on Mandera high security prison, a fortress built by the British in the 1940s, about 60 kilometres southwest of Hargeysa. Yet, despite the occasional spectacular military victory, SNM was not in a position to enforce a major military or political breakthrough. Moreover, it seemed to have a full plate keeping itself afloat as an organisation. Although it needed its Ethiopian sanctuary, the SNM (unlike SSDF) took care of a large portion of its own fĳinancial resources. Thus it was far less dependent on Libya or Ethiopia to provide weapons and rations for its militia. Yet, the “decentralised” funding channels developed before the move to Ethiopia necessitated a certain degree of accountability on the part of the leadership (Adam 1992, 1994). Isaaq clan-based communities in the Gulf, East Africa and Europe were contributing funds out of members’ salaries33 so naturally these communities insisted on being properly represented in the movement. Unlike SSDF (and many other guerrilla movements in Somalia and elsewhere for that matter), the SNM changed its top leadership several times during the struggle, somehow always managing to deal with leadership issues in a way that was acceptable to the majority of militants and sponsors. But compromise came at a cost. The chairmanship, vice chairmanship, and on the Central Committee or the Executive Committee had to be allo- cated by taking into account not only the individual ability of the candidate and the overall balance between civil and military backgrounds of the members, but also their ideological diffferences and clan representation.34 When at the 1984 congress politicians from two subclans of the Habar Yunis vied for the chairmanship, a Habar Ja’lo politician, Mohamed Silanyo, won the seat, leaving the Habar Yunis groups disgruntled with

33 Mohammed Haashi Elmi, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; Saad Noor, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; Osman Ahmed Hassan, interview, London 27/06/2004; and Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2006. 34 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2006. 74 chapter three the outcome—a development with far-reaching efffects, as described in de following section. Moreover, SNM’s persistent ambition to broaden its clan base beyond the Isaaq resulted in the appointment of a number of Hawiye members to SNM’s Central Committee and as vice chairman of the movement (Lewis 1994b: 212). An alliance with the Hawiye politicians would signifĳicantly increase SNM’s leverage on the Mogadishu scene, which was in Hawiye traditional territory by offfering SNM politicians a signifĳicant role in any national government to be formed after the fall of Siyyad Barre. For SNM’s goal and the goal of the individual political actors in its leadership structures, was Mogadishu. The stakes rose as the capital became riven by unrest and protests, indications of a possible weakening of the regime’s hold.35 In his fĳirst speech onRadio Halgan Silanyo justifĳied the SNM struggle by the fact that Somalis “are deprived of the freedom of speech and the right to form opposition parties.”36 He did not specifĳically address the situation of the Isaaq in the Northwest, but emphasised the plight of the Somali nation as a whole, silencing allegations that the SNM had a secessionist agenda.

2.2. Calling the Elders to Keep the Balance and Win Over the Masses As the SNM grew, conflicts between ideological factions and especially clan factions multiplied as well. The political leadership was not able to resolve all the tensions by itself. As mentioned above, the election of Silanyo, a Habar Ja’lo, to the chairmanship had left bitterness among some of the Habar Yunis politicians who felt their sub clan was entitled to the contested seat. They threatened to defect from SNM if they did not get their way. In response, the SNM leadership called a meeting of Isaaq clan elders to mediate between the competitors who were supported by their respective clans.37 This was the fĳirst time the movement actively and formally involved clan elders in the political process–a moment that would have huge implications on the future leadership structures of the SNM. From here on the movement grew increasingly dependent on clan elders, not only for mediation in case of internal conflict, but also for political control, for popular legitimacy and quite simply, militarily.

35 In August 1984 a clash was reported between the security forces and a group of ordinary citizens demanding that a stock of pasta (the Somali staple) be put on sale. Allegedly, six people were killed and two executed the next day (Indian Ocean Newsletter 09/08/1984). 36 Indian Ocean Newsletter 08/09/1984. 37 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. the emergence of the somali national movement 75

In fact, the conflict with the Habar Yunis subclan set the pace for the clan elders’ formal inclusion into the SNM, which many felt was needed to keep a check on the increasing numbers of “freelance” militia, or “youngsters running around the bush causing trouble” operating in the Northwest under the SNM-flag.38 SNM did not seem to have full control over the armed men claiming their brand name, which had started causing trouble between the Isaaq and other clans in the region, the Dhulbahante, the Warsengeli and the Gadabursi.39 There were even reports of intra-Isaaq fĳighting between the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo.40 The SNM leadership hoped that the clan elders would be able to help gaining control: the clan elders were “in a better position to understand the people” and were closer to them (especially the nomads who constituted the majority of the population) than the Isaaq politicians from Mogadishu or from abroad.41 Likely, the political weight of the Isaaq elders once more increased after the decision of the Hawiye politicians to quit the SNM and join the Hawiye-based United Somali Congress (USC), founded in Rome. Although SNM initially maintained good relations with the USC, the result was that SNM became virtually an exclusive Isaaq movement. The Isaaq clan elders had already been given a formal, albeit very limited, role in the SNM, after they mediated in the political dispute regarding Silanyo’s chairmanship. The SNM solicited the elders to seek political support for SNM on the ground and to contribute some food for the guerrilla fĳighters, notably meat to be provided by the nomads.42 To formalise these arrangements, it was decided that the elders should have their own council with a revolving chair and yearly meetings. The second offfĳicial meeting of clan elders with SNM took place in Rabasso in 1985, but no further meetings were held during the next three years. The intention to somehow involve clan elders more closely, however, was there. Their involvement was framed as part of the quest for a new, legitimate and representative system of government for post-Barre Somalia. This vision was explicitly articulated in the political manifesto adopted by the 1987 SNM Congress: “Somali society, including community leaders and sheikhs, will contribute to the running of the country.”43 In past policy documents SNM had repeatedly linked the restoration of a “democratic”

38 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. 39 Indian Ocean Newsletter 07/09/1985. 40 Indian Ocean Newsletter 13/12/1986. 41 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. 42 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. 43 Indian Ocean Newsletter 25/04/1987. 76 chapter three system with the involvement of “various social groupings,” notably the clans, yet not so explicitly. Instead, documents referred more vaguely to “building a democratic and constitutional system of government consistent with the cultural and religious beliefs of the nation” (Compagnon 1990: 42). To SNM, it was clear that popular participation had to be a central feature of the new order. Power had to be decentralised, with grassroots levels given real powers and elected administrators, while still keeping a strong unitary central level. To accomplish this goal, the SNM pledged that “political responsibility will be based on collective decision making with the participation of the elders of various social groupings of the society and the religious scholars” (Compagnon 1990: 42). Yet the way to implement this vision remained quite obscure. Was it supposed to mean that traditional shirs of clan elders would be granted a share of legislative power by the Constitution? Or would the elders be systematically consulted only on specifĳic matters? None of these issues were clear, and the SNM leaders sensed that implementation would be problematic. Some SNM leaders voiced ideological objections. For them, including the elders meant giving in to clanism, which they despised as primitive, anarchic and divisive. Yet, said others, the elders were the only ones who could provide SNM with much-needed grassroots support in northwestern Somalia.44 But, the clan elders were not only seen as important for post-Barre governance. They were indispensible for the guerrilla struggle as well. For all the SNM’s ideological and philosophical rhetoric, the crux of the matter was a very practical consideration: SNM needed a way to win over the masses in the North. For this, the clan elders were indispensable. However, the impetus for this collaboration did not come from traditional governance structures themselves but from quite an unexpected source.

44 One of SNM’s former offfĳicials, I.M. Samatar, who later became an academic and wrote about his SNM experience, has reflected on his position back then, saying that the involvement of traditional leaders and institutions in the government would not be intrin- sically bad. They just have to be handled carefully. In any case, one has to engage with them because denying the existence of traditional solidarity links and single-handedly imposing modern, ‘liberal’ laws and institutions leads to a “bifurcated society with a non- integrated personality.” This becomes “a breeding ground for corruption, misuse of power, manipulation of clan loyalty, mistrust amongst the clans and hence instability” (Samatar 1997: 40). Samatar furthermore states: “The solution is to recognise the existence and the validity of traditional structures and to reconcile them with modern ones, because if not corrected or complemented by cross-sectional political organisation—in other words where leadership does not depend on ethnic/clan loyalty alone—then it is likely to give way to divisive and centrifugal forces” (Samatar 1997: 37). the emergence of the somali national movement 77

Siyyad Barre himself drove the Isaaq into the arms of the SNM, and pushed the SNM into Somali territory.

2.3. Pushed into the Field Although the SNM had been conducting guerrilla operations in the Northwest over the fĳirst half of the 1980s, it was not a grassroots movement there. Contrary to the allegations of the authorities, neither the Hargeysa self-help group (Ufffo) nor the student movement had any connection with armed opposition movements. The same was the case for the rural nomadic population, which was just as little involved with SNM. They were far from interested in a political undertaking that was alien and not obviously benefĳicial to them. They did not care much about the guerrilla struggle, even to such extent as to report rebels to the authorities (Compagnon 1992: 516, 521). However, attitudes on the ground changed as the military regime violently cracked down on the Isaaq population in retaliation for alleged SNM sympathies. 1986 seems to have been a turning point. Isaaq pastoralists were accused of feeding and aiding the SNM and as a result they were punished or even executed. Their vital cattle watering points were also destroyed by the Somali National Army. The urban Isaaq population had sufffered for years from lack of services and political oppression. But the situation became worse in 1986 when the chief of the regional National Security Service branch was murdered. Unleashing state terror over the Isaaq population, the regional commander General Said Hirsi (‘Morgan’), a Darod and one of Barre’s in-laws, embarked on a defĳinitive “resolution of the Isaaq problem” (Compagnon 1992: 520). Unprecedented state violence swept over the Northwest. Besides the physical cruelty of the security forces, military and police extracted profĳit from their power over life and death. People were arrested and only released on payment of a ransom. Vehicles were confĳiscated, commerce curbed and purged of Isaaq merchants. Pastoralists were pursued relentlessly (Compagnon 1992: 521). With the northern population in complete disarray, arguably it was an ideal context for the SNM to fĳinally take the lead in the struggle. But once more, it was plagued by internal problems and could not rise to the occasion. In May 1987 SNM carried out an extensive purge within its own ranks: several dozen SNM combatants who turned out to be National Security Service informants were executed.45 Internal feuding led to the murder of

45 Indian Ocean Newsletter 13/06/1987. 78 chapter three a high-ranking commander in July of the same year. In June, two other top brass amongst were killed in circumstances that remain unclear. Reportedly, the violent death of several SNM members appeared to stem from the atmosphere of suspicion among diffferent Isaaq subclans (notably the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo) in the wake of a failed SNM attack on Somali army positions in February.46 Suspicions were rife that some clans within SNM were collaborating with the Barre regime. Finally, Isaaq nomads were the fĳirst victims of shelling by the Somali government forces in reprisal, for the SNM’s hit and run raids, launched from Ethiopia, and were therefore critical of the movement. A serious change in tactics was needed. While that change was being contemplated, however, a chain of events caught the SNM offf guard. In March 1988 the Ethiopian and Somali governments agreed to stop supporting each other’s guerrilla movements. Siyyad Barre would quit supporting the Western Somali Liberation Front, which was still a thorn in Ethiopia’s side. This would give Mengistu the opportunity to concentrating fully on the Eritrean rebellion.47 Mengistu, on his part, would quit backing the SNM. Neither regime would give the guerrilla movements weapons, rations, sanctuary or any other form of assistance. Although a peace process between Somalia and Ethiopia had been underway since 1986, the SNM was completely taken aback and left with few options. After the signing of the peace accord Somali government troops crossed the border twice to attack SNM positions in Ethiopia. The offfĳice of the movement in Addis was closed, and on May 26 the SNM launched a spectacular offfensive on Bur’o, Sheikh and Berbera. However, the attack was uncoordinated and unplanned. The military commanders were not in control of the troops which, in addition to a disciplined Isaaq fĳighting force, consisted of many ‘freelance’ fĳighters and Isaaq herders, who just turned up and joined the attack. Although the SNM forces somehow—presumably by sheer force of numbers—managed to capture the positions of the Somali National Army, thousands of men were killed and the original SNM fĳighting force was decimated.48 The Barre government responded with massive retaliation from the air. The cities of Hargeysa and Bur’o were razed. Survivors left the urban areas,

46 Indian Ocean Newsletter 15/08/1987. 47 In March 1988 the Eritrean Peoples Liberation Front (EPLF) had dealt a crushing blow to the Ethiopian army in the battle of Afabet. 48 Mohammed Ibrahim Warsaame ‘Hadraawi,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. the emergence of the somali national movement 79 heading for the countryside and Ethiopia. The number of international refugees would reach 400.000, housed in a string of refugee camps along the Ethiopian-Somali border (Compagnon 1992: 521). In the summer of 1988 the Northwest collapsed completely: there was no more tax collection, no more schools, hospitals or public services or administration of any kind. Hargeysa and Bur’o were ghost towns, with only the Somali National Army in residence. There was nothing to administer and nobody left to govern.

C. SNM Fighting in the Northwest

Let us recap the situation at the end of 1988. The Somali administration had collapsed. The Somali National Army was holding its ground but struggling with logistics since its food supplies were severely strained with rural areas virtually inaccessible to them (Prunier 1990: 108). SNM guerrilla fĳighters, on the other hand, were dispersed in Isaaq clan territory, cut offf from their Ethiopian sanctuary and supplies. As a consequence, they became totally dependent on Isaaq clan elders for their survival, with the result that Isaaq clan elders (although I will make clear in the following subsection that ‘clan elder’ is a fluid category) gained considerable clout within SNM to the extent of becoming political competitors to the original SNM political cadres. As the fĳighting power of the Somali army was on the wane, the Barre regime therefore encouraged the establishment of non-Isaaq clan militias in order to use them as auxiliary forces. As a result the war became a war fought between clan militias, controlled on all sides by clan elders. When in 1991 the Barre regime fĳinally fell, Somalia split into territories controlled by respective clan militias. To original SNM political cadres consequently abandoned their Mogadishu- focused military ambitions and were left in Isaaq clan territory, under the de facto control of the Isaaq elders.

3.1. Competitors for Power Ever since the Ethiopian withdrawal of support necessitated a push forward into Somali territory, the SNM political leadership and military command struggled with shortages of manpower and supplies. The only available men and supplies were to be found in northwestern Somalia itself, among the pastoral population. Pestered, threatened and mistreated by Barre’s forces in search of SNM sympathisers, they had become convinced of the SNM cause as they perceived it: getting rid of the Barre 80 chapter three regime and the dominance of southern clans associated with the regime. The elders supported SNM’s military operations by encouraging young men to go and fĳight. Endowed with the necessary moral authority (presumably very much needed in such a resource-poor environment), they were also able to convince their clansmen to feed the guerrilla fĳighters.49 Although the SNM had anticipated that it would in due course involve elders as community leaders, as representatives of ordinary citizens and “translators” of the people’s concerns,50 the situation turned out quite dif- ferently: the ‘elders’ did not act as mediators but as competitors for power. Though involvement of Isaaq elders in the SNM struggle provided the movement with much sought-after popular legitimacy and support on the ground, at the same time, it brought into existence a competing group for power at the top of the organisation. While the Isaaq almost universally declared allegiance to SNM in the struggle against Barre, in the fĳield SNM simply became synonymous to “the Isaaq people up in arms” (Prunier 1990: 109). SNM did not lead the fĳighters, the people or even, many say, the struggle in an operational or a political sense. SNM was not an organised army that was in a position to commandeer resources from the population. In the fĳield, it was a mere symbolic referent for quite independent clan-based guerrilla groups. These guerrilla groups did not depend on the SNM leadership, but on their local clan elders who controlled the food and weapons necessary for their survival. Abdulkadir Girde, a former SNM cadre, confĳirms that (…) the SNM never had control over the Isaaq clans. It was the Isaaq clans who made up SNM. It was them who gave SNM young men, guns and quotas for camels because they felt they had to support the SNM struggle, that this was the way to hasten Barre’s removal.51 The SNM leadership’s weakness and lack of control over the war efffort under the chairmanship of Silanyo would have far-reaching implications for the organisation and for post-war political arrangements. ‘Hadraawi’ notes, When people realised the vulnerability of the leadership, everyone got ambitious. This is when the setback happened.52

49 Mohammed Haashi Elmi, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003. 50 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. 51 Abdulkadir Girde, interview, Hargeysa 09/07/2002. 52 Mohammed Ibrahim Warsaame ‘Hadraawi,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. the emergence of the somali national movement 81

In early 1989 a meeting was held in the Ethiopian town of Adrosh to bring together the SNM leadership and the Isaaq ‘elders’ in view of the latter’s crucial role in the war efffort.53 The meeting led to the formation of a 53-member Isaaq Council of Elders, called guurti, presided over by Sheikh Ibrahim Sheikh Yusuf Sheikh Madar. Sources vary as to the rationale behind the foundation of the Isaaq guurti, but it was likely to have been the result of severe criticisms of SNM on the part of a number of “local traditional Isaaq chiefs.” Allegedly, the chiefs accused the SNM leadership, “especially the intellectuals” in particular Mohammed Silanyo, of having plunged the North into desolation and chaos, while they themselves were living comfortably abroad without being able to offfer any alternative to the Barre regime. The guurti was said to have the intention to create a new political organisation called Isaaqiyya Islamiyya (‘Islamic Isaaqland’). A few weeks afterward an SNM representative made it known publically that there was no discord between the SNM and the Council of Elders and that the guurti had been created as part of SNM, not in opposition to it.54 This was indeed the case, but only because the SNM top leadership had no other choice. According to one of the SNM cadres present at the Adrosh meeting, the guurti members were not elders who had been sent as representatives of local groups through a pastoral democracy process. They were in fact not ‘traditional’ or ‘grassroots’ elders in any way: They were just men who happened to be around. They dyed their beards with henna and put on some traditional clothes and that was it.55 The guurti, which started out as an unofffĳicial advisory council about which initially no mention was made in SNM documents, would evolve, however, into an offfĳicial organ within SNM. During SNM’s 1990 Congress,56 which replaced Silanyo with Abdirahman Ahmed Ali ‘Tuur’ (Habar Yunis) as chairman, the guurti was formally introduced into the SNM constitution over the resistance of some political cadres. The functioning of the new SNM organ itself appeared much less formalised. The number of delegates to the guurti, for example, was not fĳixed; normally there would be around 40 men, with about 15 fairly permanently present at SNM

53 Mohammed Haashi Elmi, interview, Hargeysa 15/04/2003; see also Farah A. Y. and Lewis I. M. (1993). 54 Indian Ocean Newsletter 11/02/1989, 08/04/1989. 55 Mohammed Ibrahim Warsaame ‘Hadraawi,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. 56 In ‘Almis’—the code name for the bush headquarters of the SNM in Bale Gubadle. 82 chapter three headquarters.57 However, a hard core of members were always present when consultations were held or decisions made. Abdikarim Hussein Yusuf (‘Abdi Waraabe’) (Habar Yunis), Sheikh Ibrahim Madar (Habar Awal) and Sheikh Ahmed Nuh (Ayub) were among these central fĳigures.58 At the 1990 Congress, the clan factor gained importance within the older structures of the movement, as well, notably in the Central Committee. The number of Central Committee delegates was raised to 99, a magic number in Islam, representing the 99 beautiful names of Allah. Whereas clan balance had heretofore been an important, but not the only criterion for the composition of the Central Committee (at least in theory), beginning 1990 each clan just brought a list of its candidates which would be approved by the Congress.59 The original political operatives had become a minority. SNM was now part of a popular rebellion led by Isaaq clan elders. For this new alliance the military and political struggle against the Barre regime had become an end in itself. No provisions were made to set up an administration once the war was won (Compagnon 1998: 77).

3.2. Militarization of the Northwestern Population Under the Clan Elders The SNM fĳighting force in the fĳield was no longer an integrated Isaaq guerrilla army attacking Somali government positions in a coordinated way. The core group of about 4.000 regulars had split up into fĳive clan-based regiments, fĳighting government soldiers and clan militia of non-Isaaq clans supportive by the Somali regime. Clan militia on both sides heavily depended on the approval and assistance of clan elders. After the SNM fĳighting force was merged into various Isaaq clan militias, fĳighting units could only survive if they remained dispersed and in their own clan areas, largely because the guerrilla fĳighters depended on their clansmen for food supplies (Prunier 1990: 113). Commanders of SNM regiments were hardly in control over their men. Fighters came and went again as they saw fĳit. Sometimes, when a major battle was on, they were joined by scores of freelance clan militiamen who were not offfĳicially part of any of the SNM regiments. These SNM freelancers initiated rather a lot of unofffĳicial operations directed against supposedly

57 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. 58 The latter two became speaker of the Guurti and assistant speaker of the Guurti respectively. 59 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. the emergence of the somali national movement 83 pro-government clans. Under the SNM flag, they attacked non-Isaaq in order to settle local scores about issues such as access to water, pasture and arable land (Prunier 1990: 116). These operations occurred largely on the western and eastern fringes of Isaaq territory. On the western fringe they mainly engaged with Gadabursi militia. As a result of these incursions, more or less spontaneous clan units emerged under the guidance of local Gadabursi elders. Their main purpose was to keep the Isaaq out and preserve local resources.60 Both the Barre regime and Gadabursi political and economic actors tried to steer and instrumentalise the formation of Gadabursi militia. Siyyad Barre made every efffort to revive and exacerbate existing land conflicts between the Isaaq and the Gadabursi and to nurture other hostilities between them. Then he tried to graft his war with the SNM onto these local conflicts: in October 1988, and on request of the government, the Gadabursi convened a meeting of about 100 elders in Borama district. In the name of national unity they agreed to establish a defence force to protect Awdal against the “armed bandits” (Compagnon 1990: 51). Local Gadabursi livestock traders also saw the Isaaq-Gadabursi conflict as an opportunity to take over the Isaaq’s de facto monopoly on livestock trade in the area. Like the Barre government, they paid for Gadabursi militia to fĳight against the Isaaq, whether they were SNM regulars or SNM-aligned clan militia. The conflict had many layers and actors. But the Gadabursi elders who came to seek support for their militia did not care whether the money or the rations came from the government or the traders.61 Yet as Barre’s power base shrank and the Gadabursi militia found itself in a precarious position), the fĳirst low-key initiatives began to emerge from the Gadabursi elders to achieve some kind of reconciliation with the Isaaq and the SNM. On the eastern fringe of Isaaq territory the situation was similar: offfĳicial and unofffĳicial SNM clan militias were fĳighting Dhulbahante and Warsengeli clan militias supported by Siyyad Barre. The clashes revived old land conflicts, which in their turn drew in yet more fĳighters, as ‘national’ and local politics and ambitions mixed into a violent cocktail. Here, too, the war was multi-layered: “the civil war […] was fought on two levels. One, between the SNM and the Barre government, was an extension of the wider national conflict. The other, between the Isaaq pastoralists, mobilised under the Banner of SNM, and the Darod [Warsengeli and Dhulbahante] pastoralists, supporting the Barre government, was over

60 Ibrahim Magan, interview, Borama 23/03/2003. 61 Ibrahim Magan, interview, Borama 23/03/2003. 84 chapter three those grazing and water resources” (Bradbury 1996: 32)—a likely coupling of interests, since clan elders were in charge of the militia. Here in the east, too, the weakening of the Barre regime made for cautious approaches to the Isaaq elders by the bordering clans. Indeed, the paramount Dhulbahante leader, Garaad Abdiqani, played a key role in talks that took place in Ethiopia in 1989 with Isaaq elders from Sool, Bur’o and Hargeysa.62 While clan leaders of government-aligned clans had thus begun cautious negotiations with the Isaaq elders aligned with the SNM, the Isaaq politicians in SNM’s top leadership for their part tried to maxi- mize their chances of gaining a share of power in Mogadishu after Siyyad Barre’s demise. The regime was withering; Barre offfered to quit in September 1989 and had already evacuated his family to Geneva.63 His offfer was met with scep- ticism however, as were government proposals to introduce a multi-party system. Meanwhile, more opposition movements began to step up the armed struggle. With the blessing of the SNM, the Hawiye United Somali Congress (USC) had been formed in the summer of 1989 and later that year a portion of the Ogadenis followed suit and deserted the military to form the Somali Patriotic Movement (SPM) in Kismayo (Compagnon 1998: 76). While the SNM continued the fĳight in the North, it also provided arms and ammunition for SPM and USC in the South (Brons 2001: 212). The civil war had now spread over the entire Somali territory. Then once more the SNM was caught offf guard. On the 26th of January 1991, after weeks of fĳighting in the capital, Siyyad Barre fled the presidential palace, just minutes before the USC captured it. Mogadishu sank into utter chaos, with competing Hawiye clan militias looting and pillaging the city. The events in Mogadishu closed offf any avenues for cooperation between SNM and the opposition movements in the South. They also seriously afffected the prospects of SNM politicians playing a meaningful role in Mogadishu politics any time soon. The SNM leadership had won the war, but clearly it had lost Mogadishu. It was left with the area it more or less controlled militarily in the Northwest, by the grace of Isaaq clan elders. As a result, the elders would play a determining role in shaping the political future of the movement and the Northwestern region in the years to come.

62 Garaad Abdiqani, interview, Las Anod 15/06/2002; and Mohammed Farah Nur ‘Fagadhe,’ interview, Hargeysa 13/04/2003. 63 Horn of Africa Bulletin, 7/1989. the emergence of the somali national movement 85

D. Concluding Remarks

The bombardment of Hargeysa and Bur’o in 1988 changed the course of history in the Northwest. It united the northwestern Isaaq as a clan in the armed struggle against Siyyad Barre’s military dictatorship. The history of the SNM did not start out as the popular, broad, clan-based movement it would become in the end. It started out as a Diaspora movement with few actual contacts within Somalia itself. Although the regime was oppressive, opposition did not consolidate so long as there was some scope to share in the spoils of corruption for businessmen, military and politicians. The rural population, stripped of land and other assets by the regime, just wanted to be left alone. Isaaq intellectuals, such as the ones involved in Ufffo, did not seek to confront the Barre regime actively. All these groups at times even had competing interests, as illustrated by the rural population’s initial resentment of SNM guerrilla actions. It was only when the Barre regime cracked down on the entire Isaaq population—violently and indiscriminately—that the Isaaq more or less united in opposition against it. Somalia did not lapse back into some kind of ancient clan feuding. Clan-based politics (and ultimately clan-based fĳighting) were the result of particular circumstances and political decisions on the part of the actors in the Somali polity on the government side, as well as on the side of those who were excluded from power. SNM’s involvement of all sectors of the population in the struggle—or at least its ambition to do so—did have far-reaching consequences for the nature of the movement. Consecutive SNM political manifestoes had insisted on building a Somali opposition movement and ultimately creating a Somali government in which collective decision making would guarantee political accountability. In the mid-1980s the SNM political leadership cautiously started incorporating the Isaaq elders in the movement, in a bid to win their support on the ground. The exodus from the Northwest of Isaaq refugees and the general mobilisation’ of the Isaaq in the war against Barre after 1988 however, made the elders even more indispensable for the movement. Almost inevitably, their political weight became reflected in the movement’s leadership and organisational structures. As Isaaq elders took over leadership in the armed struggle, to an extent they also claimed leadership of SNM itself. Moreover, because the fĳighters organised on a clan-basis and were more or less steered by their clans and clan elders, extraordinary possibilities for peace-making and innovative state-building opened up after the war, as will become clear in the next chapter. CHAPTER FOUR

CLAN ELDERS AND THE FORGING OF A HYBRID STATE

Wars and popular struggles tend to get mythologized. Over time, a certain version of events becomes nested in the memories of those who lived them, as well as in the memories and imaginations of their sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters—part of the shared historical memory of a people. In those canons heroes play an important part. Remarkably, Somaliland’s national heroes, the ones who are remembered as having defeated Siyyad Barre and birthed the nation, are not the guerrilla fĳighters or the political cadres of the Somali National Movement. Somaliland’s national heroes are by general consensus the clan elders. As I have shown in the previous chapter, clan elders had become central power brokers and efffective political competitors to the original SNM political leadership. After the collapse of the Barre regime, in the absence of a Somali state or state institutions, clan institutions and elders became the essential medium of politics and power in the Northwest. A political space developed in which political actors identifying as clan elders working through clan institutions, engaged with the idea and eventually the actual building and governing of a state. Clan elders did not necessarily ascend to executive state rule, but they mediated the formation and nature of the state and exerted a measure of political control over it. What developed and came into being clearly was not a Weberian state but rather a dynamic, hybrid political order. The involvement of clan elders and clan institutions in that hybrid political order made it possible to overcome seemingly formidable obstacles to local peace and governance. It helped to manage internal political divisions within SNM that arose after the collapse of the Barre regime. Equally important, it worked to mediate conflicts and divisions between Isaaq and non-Isaaq competitors for power and resources in the Northwest.

A. The Role of Clan Elders in the Undoing of the SNM

With Mogadishu in the hands of looting Hawiye militia afffĳiliated with the Hawiye-based United Somali Congress, the SNM was left in the Northwest 88 CHAPTER FOUR as the most meaningful military power in Isaaq-inhabited and adjacent areas. Its military potential was far greater than that of the Gadabursi militia on the western border or the Dhulbahante or Warsengeli militias on the east. Yet, real military or political control by offfĳicial SNM structures, such as the top military command or the Central Committee, was erratic and dispersed. In reality, as we have seen, the bombed-out and pillaged Northwest was controlled by roaming clan militias and the only actors able to keep those forces in check were clan elders. The elders were also key in matters of peace, because their involvement allowed conflicting parties to approach one another as clans, rather than as competitors for state power. This lowered the stakes temporarily setting aside the allocation of state power as an aspect of the conflict. On the eastern flank, Isaaq elders who were members of the guurti, the elders’ council advising the SNM leadership, agreed to a cease fĳire with Dhulbahante elders (who in principle supported Siyyad Barre) as early as 1989. SNM commanders thus committed to refrain from incursions into Dhulbahante territory for more than a year before the war end. Although they were not always successful in preventing incursions from freelance Isaaq militias, the agreement lasted (Prunier 1990: 116). After the collapse of the Barre regime SNM regular and freelance militias occupied the town of Erigavo, which was historically shared by the Isaaq, the Dhulbahante and the Warsengeli clans, but they left the rest of Dhulbahante territory undisturbed.1 Clan elders of the Isaaq and the Dhulbahante also brokered local cease-fĳires in which clans agreed to remain within their ‘traditional’ areas, where their main settlements and grazing lands were located. The SNM elders and the Dhulbahante paramount elders Garaad Abdiqani, Garaad Jama and Garaad Suleiman met again at Oog at the beginning of February 1991 to fĳinalise the agreements between them. A pledge was made in the name of God “not to fĳire any more shots but to bring back brotherhood, unity and respect among Somali people.”2 Though the clan elders approached each other as traditional clan representatives, they were not simply icons of precolonial concepts. They had changed and evolved during the military regime, the war and its aftermath. Whereas paramount elders such as garaads, which in other regions are called sultaan, bokor or ugaas, did not traditionally fĳill leadership roles, but exercised mainly ceremonial, spiritual and even mystical

1 Mohammed Said ‘Gees,’ interview, Hargeysa 06/06/2002. 2 Horn of Africa Bulletin 2/1991. clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 89 functions, during and after the war, some of them rose to political prominence. They also dramatically increased in number. Many sub-clans appointed their own titled elders in an attempt to boost their political weight within their larger clan. The multiplication of offfĳices brought about a variation in the stature of titled elders. For example, sultaans with very long lineages carried diffferent weight from garaads or sultaans, who were just recently appointed (Farah and Lewis 1993: 19). Abdisalaan Sultan Mohammed, a Warsengeli garaad, for example, was a highly venerable titled elder. In the execution of his traditional task of peacemaking, the garaad was assisted by his brother (as his accredited representative) and a guurti of 43 elders. He himself mostly avoided mix- ing with his clansmen, staying aloof from internal struggles. An infringe- ment of the garaad’s rulings was thought to bring disaster among his kinsmen (Farah and Lewis 1993: 23).3 The garaad was instrumental in peace dealings between the Warsengeli and the Isaaq in Erigavo district, although he was not visibly involved in the process. The guurtis—the elders’ councils that were involved in the war, in peacemaking and in some cases eventually in setting up local governance arrangements after the war—were a postcolonial phenomenon as well.4 They emerged as a flexible institution, variable in purpose and composition. There was the SNM guurti, a semi-informal council of Isaaq elders acting as an advisory body to the central committee of the organization. Outside the formal context of SNM, there were other guurtis too, within Isaaq and non-Isaaq clans that formed and dissolved according to the rapidly changing circumstances on the ground. Membership changed frequently—if a guurti member failed to attend meetings (for personal or other reasons) he was simply replaced with someone else (Farah and Lewis 1993: 19). The elders on the guurti were men who were particularly respected members of the community—because they were rich, had a powerful position or were knowledgeable religious leaders. Sheikh Ibrahim Sheikh

3 Farah recalls the following anecdote: “In 1992 the Garaad called for a general meeting to be held at Yubbe, but his kinsmen conducted the meeting in Dhahar without the consent of the Garaad. Immediately after this SNM forces attacked and captured the Warsengeli Armale village. This unfortunate event is attributed to the failure of his clansmen to follow the Garaad’s ruling on the venue of the meeting.” 4 It does not appear in I.M. Lewis’s classic of Northern Somali anthropology A Pastoral Democracy (fĳirst published in 1961), because it was apparently not there yet in the form and the concept it exists today. 90 CHAPTER FOUR

Madar of the Isaaq was the quintessential example. He hailed from a wealthy family that boasted a lineage of sheikhs of exceptional religious authority. Thus, elders on a guurti were typically well placed to solve problems within the community. They were supposed to enjoy the support of their clansmen and could therefore take whatever action they chose.5 Clan institutions, such as elders, titled elders or guurtis, had long ago moved beyond their pastoral context, as the composition of the guurti set up in 1992 by local Isaaq clans in Erigavo district makes clear. This guurti had 42 members, 33 of whom were Habar Yunis. Among those, 19 identi- fĳied themselves as herders, 8 as traders and 6 as occupied with agriculture. Of the 8 members who identifĳied themselves as traders, one was actually an ex-civil servant. Of the 19 herdsmen, three were employees of the former military government. Despite the fact that most of them derived their income from livestock, most resided in major towns and villages. So none of these men was personally attending to his own herds (Farah and Lewis 1993: 15). In other words, the elders of this guurti were urban-based and had largely outsourced their traditional economic occupations. Furthermore, the issues and deliberations in the guurtis and the actions undertaken by the elders were far from insulated from high politics. Obviously, to start with, clan elders all over the Northwest had been deeply involved in the civil war. A number of influential Isaaq elders were closely associated with the political leadership of the SNM. The 1991 meeting at Oog between the Dhulbahante paramount elders and the Isaaq elders associated with the SNM addressed peacemaking between clans but also debated “ways and means of reconstructing the destroyed country.”6 On the western flank of Isaaq territory, the Gadabursi elders explicitly opted for political cooperation with the SNM after the war. They had two important incentives to do so. First, the military power of the SNM was overwhelming: in a clash with the Gadabursi militia at the end of January 1991, the SNM had completely destroyed the town of Dilla on the road between Hargeysa and Borama, the Gadabursi’s main urban settlement and had then captured Borama itself.7 Second, most Gadabursi elders

5 Mohammed Muse Bahdoon, interview, Borama 23/03/2003. 6 Horn of Africa Bulletin 2/1991. 7 Abdirahman Jim’aale ‘Dherre’ (‘Tall One’), interview, Hargeysa 02/02/2002. While SNM fĳighters claimed to be dealing with the remnants of Somali National Army and clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 91 were convinced to side with SNM by Abdirahman Aw Ali, the only Gadabursi commander and high ranking political fĳigure in the SNM (Menkhaus 1997: 11). Henceforth, key Gadabursi elders took the side of the SNM and forged a political alliance with the Isaaq in spite of the resistance of some Gadabursi politicians, who were opposed to alliances with the former enemy and claimed to speak for the entire clan.8 In other words, the absence of a state or state institutions did not bring back age-old political structures. What ensued from war and state collapse in the Northwest was a very particular political space, a polity in which state-based and clan-based discourses and modes of action coexisted and interacted. As we have pointed out, this phenomenon was not so new: they had coexisted and interacted since the introduction of the concept of a state in Somalia. What had changed was that now the clan elders were on top of the game. In the absence of state power or institutions the elders who were products of this state-clan interaction themselves had the space and the ability to shift between clan-based and state-based politics, discourses and modes of action. Even in the apparent absence of the state (which had collapsed in Mogadishu), the idea and the concept of a state were never really gone.

1.1. The Birth of Somaliland Hardly four months after Siyyad Barre’s government and the entire Somali state apparatus collapsed in January 1991, the state of Somaliland was proclaimed. It was not the SNM leadership who insisted on founding an independent state in the Northwest but clan elders representing the sentiment of SNM’s rank-and-fĳile and the general population (Compagnon 1993: 13). In May 1991 an SNM Central Committee was convened in Bur’o, a town centrally located in northwest Somalia. As a result of the peace meetings that had been going on between the Isaaq and the non-Isaaq clans (Gadabursi, Warsengeli and Dhulbahante), representatives of the non- Isaaq clans were invited to join the Isaaq-based SNM guurti. The purpose of the meeting was to broker an overall peace deal between the northwestern clans and “to agree on a common political programme”

Gadabursi militia resistance, reportedly the attacks did not spare the civilian population or their possessions. Evidence about this episode is very hard to come by. Interviewees in Hargeysa or Borama, be they Isaaq or Gadabursi, do not tend to volunteer information on the matter. It seems that generally more importance is attached to preserving the current alliance between the former enemies in the context of Somaliland than to events in the past. See also Brons M. (1993: 33). 8 Gadabursi Sultaan I and II, interview, Borama 25/05/2003. 92 CHAPTER FOUR

(Bryden 2003). But a political programme for what? A state? If so, then which one? And what kind? As the meetings in Bur’o were in session, radio Mogadishu announced that the SNM intended to attend a conference in Cairo with the United Somali Congress (which had formed an interim-government in Mogadishu) and other Somali opposition movements to participate in reconstructing a Somali government. The news was picked up in Bur’o and immediately triggered widespread protests. Demonstrators, shouting “We don’t want Mogadishu” gathered in front of the conference venue, while tanks and technicals manned by the SNM militia surrounded the compound. Under public pressure, the Bur’o meeting promptly declared the secession of the Northwest, claiming the entire territory within the borders of the former British Somaliland Protectorate (Bryden 2003). To be sure, this was not the scenario that the top SNM leadership had in mind throughout the war against Barre. The envisaged prize instead was Mogadishu. Tellingly, the necessity of preserving Somalia’s territorial integrity was engraved in Article 6 of the SNM constitution and had been underlined in its political programme since 1984 (Compagnon 1990: 32). Although allegedly there had always existed an undercurrent in favour of secession from Somalia within SNM, it had never been SNM’s publicly stated position. Moreover, many of its leaders had economic interests in South Somalia, acquired before the Isaaqs political and economic marginalization there, and did not want to loose those assets completely (Bryden 2003; Compagnon 1993: 10). Yet the Isaaq population, including the SNM’s rank-and-fĳile, strongly resented being ruled from Mogadishu again, even if Isaaq politicians would be involved in that government. Isaaq clan elders in the SNM guurti echoed this popular resentment and were in favour of secession. The case for secession was reinforced by the support of the clan elders of the non-Isaaq clans who were present at the Bur’o meeting (Compagnon 1993: 13). Confronted with the clan elders and the popular sentiment they represented, SNM’s chairman, Abdirahman Tuur, had little choice but to settle for Somaliland independence. Tuur knew that he was not in a position to oppose the guurti. Also, because Mogadishu was not accessible for the time being anyway, he had little to loose but his political future. Somaliland was a much smaller turf than Somalia, but it was all that was possible at the time. After independence was proclaimed, the Bur’o Conference, which would become known as the Grand Conference of Northern Peoples, set out to form a provisional government. The delegates agreed that independent Somaliland would for the fĳirst two years be governed by clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 93 an expanded SNM Executive Committee—the existing Executive Committee plus a number of members from non-Isaaq clans. The SNM Chairman would become the fĳirst president of Somaliland, and the recon- stituted SNM Central Committee would function as a national council or preliminary parliament (Compagnon 1993: 13). The SNM government turned out to be very inconsequential and shortlived. The SNM was structurally very weak and never really in control. As a result, independent political actors within SNM started competing for state power. A war between Isaaq competitors over military control and control over public resources marked the beginning of the end for the SNM. Besides, President Tuur largely disregarded the SNM Central Committee, the Executive Committees and the SNM political programme that had been approved and institutionalized at Bur’o. Sensing where the real power was, the president relied on the SNM guurti instead. Tuur real- ized that his chances of political survival to a large extent depended on the clan elders.9

1.2. Former SNM Comrades Claiming the Fledgling State As Somaliland’s president, Abdirahman Tuur immediately claimed two essential attributes of Weberian state power: a monopoly on the legitimate use of violence and control over state resources. Tuur set out to bring all the former clan militias under state control by forming a national army under the command of the president. In order to muster resources to pay the soldiers, he tried to gain control over revenue collection at the port of Berbera. Threatened in their own positions of military and economic control, Tuur’s political competitors were not prepared to let him succeed in these aims. President Tuur, to begin his efffort to bring the militia under state control in Hargeysa, brought 320 former SNM guerrilla fĳighters together in the country’s fĳirst integrated police force. The move immediately triggered conflict between Tuur, who wanted the police force to be under the direct control of the presidency, and Mohammed Kahin, his Minister of Defence, who wanted them under his own control. Tuur accused Riyale of deliberately stalling the process of pulling together a police force by conducting overly long consultations with the Dhulbahante and SNM militia commanders.10 Pressing for a forceful expansion of state authority from

9 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. 10 Indian Ocean Newsletter 14/12/1991 94 CHAPTER FOUR

Hargeysa, Tuur ordered militia loyal to him to sweep the country and consolidate the other militias into a national army by force (Compagnon 1993: 15). The conflict exacerbated when Tuur and his allies accused Kahin and other SNM commanders of planning a coup. Kahin was sacked and his portfolio taken over by the vice president. While President Tuur was on a trip abroad, the vice president tried to fĳire the Minister of the Interior, Mohammed Suleiman Aden, known as ‘Gaal’ (‘The Unbeliever’). Gaal was alleged to be indulgent towards a group of organised racketeers whose targets were foreign businessmen in Berbera. The racketeers levied a small sum from imports which they are believed to have pocketed personally without paying taxes to the treasury. The vice president suspended Gaal and sent the army to try to stop the racketeering in order to preserve the government’s income from taxes (Compagnon 1993: 15; Bryden 2003; Indian Ocean Newsletter 18/01/1992). Tuur and Kahin belonged to diffferent political factions in the SNM. Whereas Tuur belonged to the civilian wing, Kahin belonged to the Alan As (‘Red Flag’) group within the movement, mostly military men and intellectuals with socialist inclinations. Furthermore, the two men were from diffferent Isaaq clans, each with its their own militia. President Tuur was Habar Yunis, and Defence Minister Kahin was Habar Ja’lo. So was Interior Minister Mohammed Gaal. So long as these politicians could convince their clansmen that their interests were threatened by a competing politician and his clansmen, they had these clan-based fĳighting forces at their disposal. Tensions between the Habar Yunis president and the Habar Ja’lo ‘opposition’ escalated into military conflict. In January 1992 heavy fĳighting broke out in Bur’o, a town that was traditionally shared by the two clans. Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo militias clashed violently, causing a fresh refugee exodus. Reports indicated that about 30.000 people were displaced from the town.11 Amidst continuing allegations that a coup was being prepared, Tuur purged several ministers from his cabinet of whom he had grown suspicious. He sacked the two Dhulbahante ministers and Abdirahman Aw Ali, the only Gadabursi colonel in the SNM and Tuur’s Minister of Education.12 At that point not much was left of the government originally formed in Bur’o, and it lapsed into inaction. The SNM

11 Horn of Africa Bulletin 2/1992. 12 Mahamed Ahmed Barre ‘Garaad,’ interview Hargeysa 01/04/2003. clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 95

Central Committee was split into two factions and remained unable to sort the situation out as the conflict spread to Berbera. The port of Berbera was of vital importance for the presidential faction in its efffort to accumulate fĳinancial means. It was equally vital, of course, for the opposition to prevent this. Control over Berbera was shared by the Habar Awal (Issa Musa) commander of the area, Ibrahim ‘Degaweyn’ (‘Big Ears’) of the Alan As faction, and by the coastal Habar Yunis. Degaweyn and other ex-SNM commanders felt that they had not been rewarded suf- fĳiciently for the important role they had played in the struggle against Barre. Because President Tuur did not trust them and feared their political power, they were given no role in the formal state structures, not even some of the 26 new Defence Ministry directorates. All of these posts were occupied by junior offfĳicers who arrived from Mogadishu after Siyyad Barre’s fall.13 The political conflict at the state level fed into local clan sentiments. The Habar Awal (Issa Musa) militia resisted the government’s attempt to establish control over the port. Like the sacked Habar Ja’lo ministers, they denounced the government as dominated by Habar Yunis14, who wanted to appropriate power and the tax revenue of the port. Local Habar Yunis supported their clansman the president and engaged the Habar Awal (Issa Musa) militia in Berbera itself. While the clash between Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo in Bur’o had been a fairly limited urban upheaval, this strife at Berbera involved far more people, militia as well as civilians. The eight months of fĳighting that ensued caused extensive death and destruction (Farah and Lewis 1993: 51). President Tuur never gained control over the militia in Somaliland. Lacking the economic, political and military power to do so, his last opportunity to break the impasse was an agreement with the United Nations. In exchange for pledges of aid from the United Nations to repair the Berbera port and Hargeysa airport and of funds to pay the police, Tuur agreed to allow in 350 UN peacekeepers. The troops would be given the task of ensuring protection over food aid passing through Berbera to northeast and central Somalia.15 The subsequent resignation of the UN special envoy to Somalia Mohammed Sahnoun, however, left the whole plan to be renegotiated with his successor. It never materialised.16

13 Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/1993. 14 Habar Yunis and ‘Idagalle are together called Habar Garhajis. 15 For background on the UN operation in Somalia, Sahnoun’s view on it and the reasons for his resignation, please refer to Sahnoun (1994). 16 Indian Ocean Newsletter 07/11/1992. 96 CHAPTER FOUR

B. SNM Heartland: Clan Elders’ Negotiating Power over State Resources

2.1. The Intervention of the Gadabursi Guurti

The SNM government and SNM military commanders were unable to resolve their conflict over political power and resources and plunged Somaliland into war once again. Isaaq elders stepped in, taking it on as a conflict within the Isaaq this time, rather than between the Isaaq and non-Isaaq. They tried to mediate between clan-based factions allied with Tuur’s government and its opposition. The war and the attempts at peacemaking made clear how once more the realms of clan and state were not neatly separated: politicians, military commanders and clan elders all moved in the same political space. From February 1992 onwards, the power struggle had started to escalate, fĳirst in Bur’o, then to Berbera, and fĳinally to Hargeysa itself. The two sides called on traditional rivalries between their respective clans. On the side of the government there was an alliance between politicians and military commanders controlling the militias of the Habar Yunis (the clan of President Tuur), the ‘Idagalle (the clan of Tuur’s powerful Minister of Finance) and the Habar Awal/Saad Muse (the clan of Tuur’s foreign afffairs minister and his army commander). On the side of the opposition there was an alliance between the Habar Awal/Issa Musa (the clan of a disenfranchised SNM commander controlling Berbera) and the Habar Ja’lo (the clan of a number of Tuur’s dismissed ministers). The Habar Yunis and the ‘Idagalle were (and are) considered genea- logically close and therefore natural allies. They are known together as the Habar Garhajis. ‘Traditionally’ the Habar Grahajis have been in competition with the Habar Ja’lo, because they live in adjacent territories and share urban settlements. The same is true for the Habar Awal/Issa Musa and the Habar Awal/Saad Musa, who share and compete for resources in the urban settlement of Berbera. Therefore, as had been the case in the war against Barre, political competitors within the Isaaq were able to graft their competition onto ‘traditional’ pastoral clan conflicts and rivalries. After the war against Barre, the clan elders of the Isaaq and the non- Isaaq had been able to reach a new modus operandi between Isaaq and non-Isaaq by lifting the political issue of sharing state power and resources out of the negotiations. This proved impossible now. The SNM guurti organised a conference in Djibouti between elders of the two warring Isaaq factions. Upon their return to Hargeysa, the guurti elders formed a clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 97 reconciliation committee, consisting of sixteen clan representatives of the Tuur faction and fĳifteen representatives of the opposition. The joint peace committee was chaired by the guurti’s chairman, the very influential Isaaq elder Sheikh Ibrahim Sheikh Yusuf Sheikh Madar. Yet, the committee failed to put an end to the hostilities between the Habar Awal/Issa Musa and the Habar Yunis in Berbera; neither was it able to tackle the security crisis in Hargeysa and other areas. The Isaaq/SNM guurti visited Berbera up to six times to no avail. Whenever the clan elders struck a peace deal between clans, Isaaq “politicians,” intent on winning control over state power and resources, would make sure to undo it (Farah and Lewis 1993: 52). There was no way around the state power- and resources-sharing issue. The opposition accused the Tuur government and its allies of intending to install clan hegemony over the state and its resources, notably the port of Berbera (Compagnon 1993: 15). The Habar Awal/Issa Musa militia refused to have Berbera port controlled by an administration it considered to be dominated by two other Isaaq clans, Habar Yunis and the ‘Idagalle, in alliance with the Habar Awal/Saad Musa. The existence of a state had to be taken into account now when striking a deal, even by the elders. Isaaq elders did not succeed in brokering peace, and the deadlock was resolved instead by clan elders of the Gadabursi, who were not implicated in the conflict. They pulled it offf, not by avoiding notions of stateness this time but by strengthening them. The Gadabursi politicians, elders and general population had an interest in Somaliland and in a strong alliance with the Isaaq. Awdal, Gadabursi traditional territory, was geographically isolated, squeezed between Djibouti, Ethiopia and Isaaq-dominated territories. Somaliland, even dominated by the Isaaq was their best bet politically and economically. For, apart from Borama, Awdal was minimally developed in terms of roads, infrastructure or other amenities. At a Gadabursi conference in 1992, politicians, clan elders, religious leaders and intellectuals rallied behind Somaliland17 and intervened in the persistent conflict among the Isaaq, which they deemed a potential threat to the country’s peace and stability. The Gadabursi Guurti of 21, representing all Gadabursi subclans, launched two peace missions to the embattled Isaaq clans. Their fĳirst offfer of mediation was politely rejected as it was embarrassing for the

17 Mohammed Muse Bahdoon, interview, Borama 23/03/2003 and Hadji Jama, interview, Borama 07/02/2002. 98 CHAPTER FOUR

Isaaq elders to come to terms with the fact that they apparently were unable to solve their own problems. The Gadabursis’ second mission was duly welcomed. At the Tawfĳiiq (‘Understanding’) Conference, held at Sheikh, Gadabursi elders managed to break the deadlock by modifying drafts of a peace agreement that was particularly disliked by the Habar Awal/Issa Musa, who were particularly vexed by the following: Public facilities and state properties that are found in Berbera, like the port, fuel depots, airport, government factories, roads etc. are public properties and their access should not be denied to the people of ‘Somaliland.’ Their management and control is the responsibility of the central authority (quoted in Farah and Lewis 1993: 54). By replacing Berbera with Somaliland in the fĳirst clause, the Gadabursi solved the problem, because this expanded wording would also include Hargeysa airport, for example, which was controlled by the Garhajis’ militia. This scenario seemed less like taking something from the Issa Musa to give to the Habar Yunis but instead entailed various clan militias ceding control to a genuine state and a legitimate government accepted by all clans. Taken to its logical conclusion, this wording also would re-establish the government. And in this, the Isaaq clan elders would play an important, but not uninterested role.

2.2. Isaaq Guurti Holding the Strings After the Gadabursi guurti prepared the ground, Isaaq elders took over the initiative. While at fĳirst the Isaaqguurti had been a consultative body, supporting the SNM with mediation, logistics and manpower, after the liberation they became the central power brokers. The SNM was totally displaced as a power structure. The SNM Central Committee had not convened for two years now and it was nothing more than a name. The Isaaq elders, on the other hand, manoeuvred themselves into a crucial position between the Garhajis and Habar Awal strongholders—and end up holding the strings on both sides. They appeased everyone while serving their own agenda. Two factors had contributed to this outcome. Partly, of course, SNM’s undoing was due the war. Former SNM comrades faced each other in battle, which was hardly conducive to the proper working of SNM political structures. But apart from the war, SNM’s withering away was also the result of President Tuur’s deliberate political strategy. He wanted to get rid of the SNM, because he considered it as tying his hands politically. Moreover, Tuur considered SNM to be an Isaaq organisation, which clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 99 according to him, automatically made other northwestern clans nervous. But, instead of trying to widen SNM membership and structures to properly include and mobilise other clans, Tuur discarded the movement. He chose to rely on the Isaaq guurti instead. The guurti had no power over the president, unlike the Executive Committee which would have some say over the SNM Chairman. The Alan As opposition did the very same thing. Though they did to try to revive the SNM, they ultimately turned to the Isaaq guurti in their bid to oust Tuur.18 The guurti was careful not to antagonise either side openly. It revital- ised itself into an active body and established headquarters in the Ministry of the Interior offfĳices in Hargeysa.19 The guurti started a process of consultation open to all sectors of society, one not limited to clan representatives but including groups as diverse as women, youths, intellectuals, clerics and former militia. In the meantime the guurti elders used the same building to perform mediation and conflict resolution functions. For the non-Isaaq, the open discussions started a period of more active involvement with Somaliland. Gadabursi, Warsengeli and Dhulbahante were able to have a say about power-sharing and were actively involved in the peace process (Fadal 1996: 15). Led by the elders of the Somaliland clans, the peace process was (as agreed at Sheikh) to culminate in a nation-wide conference to be held in Borama in the spring of 1993. The participants at the meeting had agreed that all powers that belonged to the SNM Central Committee would be handed over to the guurti. It would be the Borama Conference that would be deciding on the successor to Tuur as president, not an SNM Conference. Tuur was convinced that he had the guurti behind him so expected to win the vote. This way he would be able to remain in power while shed- ding the institutional and political fetters of SNM. At the same time, however, the Alan As opposition was also trying to get the guurti on board.20 A fĳinal attempt by the president in December to revive some of the government’s credibility was received with little enthusiasm. Tuur appointed a new cabinet: while the vice president and the Minister of Foreign Afffairs kept their posts, all the others were replaced. Most of the appointed ministers were newcomers. Suleiman Gaal was offfered the Port Ministry portfolio, but he turned it down. The reshufffle made little

18 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. ‘Boobe’ was more or less attached to the Alan As faction during the war against Barre. 19 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. 20 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. 100 CHAPTER FOUR sense, as it was only temporary and, besides, it was not sanctioned by the SNM leaders (or the guurti). By the time the cease-fĳire was brokered in October 1992, the SNM had done irreparable damage to itself. It did not have much legitimacy left with the Somaliland population and many members of the Central Committee had emigrated.21 The SNM’s tradition of disputed but nevertheless peaceful leadership changes had been spoiled by the bloody power struggles that followed the victory over Barre (Bryden 2003). The former guerrilla movement had completely disinte- grated by the autumn of 1992. By the 1993 Borama Conference the SNM was all but invisible.

2.3. The Borama Conference Provides the Institutional Framework of a Hybrid State In Somaliland the 1991 Conference in Bur’o, at which Somaliland independence was proclaimed, is known as the country’s fĳirst national clan conference. Yet technically this is not so: at Bur’o it was still the SNM who acted as legislators. The elders (including the Isaaq guurti), although politically quite influential, were a mere consultative body to SNM. At Borama, however, things were very diffferent. The clan elders were the legislators and reached the apex of their political power. They hammered out a new institutional framework for Somaliland, which formalized their role in governance. This conference has been very aptly described as the watershed of peacemaking and political development in Somaliland. Initially, some confusion surrounded the planned conference. This time, clan elders would be in charge—the chairman of the now toothless SNM, President Tuur, had requested it.22 But was the conference to be merely a fĳinal peace conference that wrapped up and consolidated smaller peacemaking effforts led by the elders, or was it an assembly that would begin solving Somaliland’s political problems as well? At the onset this question was still unresolved. As the Borama Conference took offf and delegations started making their way to the conference venue, Tuur’s vice president announced that the conference was to address security but no political issues. Later, the president arrived and said exactly the opposite. Reportedly, Tuur com- plained that his administration had failed because of the Alan As, and that the 150 delegates at Borama had to decide the next step in governance.

21 Indian Ocean Newsletter 12/12/1992. 22 Omar Dahir, interview, Hargeysa 11/07/2002. clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 101

At fĳirst, the elders were confused: they were not quite sure whether Tuur was actually handing over his position or not. As Tuur left the conference venue, the elders took on the fĳirst issue on the agenda: peace among the clans.23 The conference adopted a Peace Charter for the Somaliland Clans, which laid out provisions for peace agreements to be mediated by a national multi-clan Guurti and set out methods and procedures for conflict resolution (SAPD 2002a: 23). A document, signed by Sheikh Ibrahim Sheikh Yusuf Sheikh Madar, the chairman of the Isaaq guurti, laid out provisions for a “countrywide security network.”24 As a matter of urgency, clan militias had to be removed from all major towns and roads. Militia check points had to be removed, and clan militias would have to be encamped in locations indicated by the Inter-Clan Council of Elders. The responsibility for security would be placed in the hands of a police force to be formed in all districts and major towns. These measures were to be implemented by committees consisting of clan militia commanders and the members of the Inter-Clan Council of Elders. Later, security would become the responsibility of the government, as soon as it was formed. After this fĳirst phase proper demobilisation could take place, as well as the formation of a genuine national army for Somaliland.25 By placing the control of the armed militias under the political leadership of the clans, the elders consolidated their role as peace makers by actively involving themselves in disarmament and demobilisation (Farah and Lewis 1993: 7). Their ‘traditional’ peacemaking role became institutionalised in the new polity. Through adopting a Transitional Charter, the Borama Conference also introduced a new system of government involving the clan elders in a formal role. The Charter was supposed to serve for two years, during which further peace-building and state building would take place. After long discussions, the delegates settled for a presidential system with a vice president and a bi-cameral parliament, in order to prevent the clan of the president becoming too strong.26 The bi-cameral parliament consisted of a kind of upper house, the House of Elders or Somaliland guurti, and a lower house, the House of Representatives. The Somaliland Guurti was defĳined as the highest governing body of the state. It was conceived as an independent council of 82 elders,

23 Omar Dahir, interview, Hargeysa 11/07/2002. 24 As cited in Horn of Africa Bulletin 9/1993. 25 Horn of Africa Bulletin 3/1993. 26 Omar Dahir, interview, Hargeysa 11/07/2002. 102 CHAPTER FOUR nominated by their respective clans for six-year terms.27 Their main responsibilities—as defĳined in the Transitional Charter—included: “the protection of the values of Somaliland customary law and the Islamic faith” and “the protection of national security by maintaining peace and managing conflicts.” The House of Representatives on the other hand, had 75 members, also nominated by the clans. The chief responsibility of this house was to enact laws. As the two Houses were designed to guarantee an equitable representation of the various Somaliland clans on the level of national government, the executive branch was purposely designed to remain relatively small. An executive president would be acting as head of state and chairman of the Council of Ministers, which would be appointed by the president. Finally, an independent judiciary would form the third branch of the government (SAPD 2002a: 13).

2.4. The Clan Elders Elect the “Father of the Nation” After the 150 clan delegates at Borama had sorted out security and constitutional issues, the offfĳices in the legislative and executive branches of government had to be fĳilled. The Somaliland Guurti and the House of Representatives were assigned a set number of seats for each clan, according to the clan’s agreed upon numerical strength. It was up to the clans themselves to select delegates for those seats. In practice, the clans’ politically active elders—both rural pastoralists but also included urban-based power brokers and modern professionals—had a decisive voice in this. The fĳirst president and vice president were elected on the spot. Their choice would determine the future of the country in no small way. With 99 votes the presidential election was very convincingly won by Mohammed Ibrahim Egal. His competitors for the post received no votes. Egal hailed from a wealthy Habar Awal family and was an old hand at Somali politics. As Prime Minister of Somaliland at the time of decoloni- sation in 1960, he had been one of the architects of the union with the south. By 1967 he became Prime Minister again, this time heading the government of the unifĳied Somalia. After the coup which ended civilian rule

27 The system of clan nomination for delegates/parliament members was hardly transparent. The selection of candidate delegates never depended on a wide consultation amongst the clansmen, let alone on some sort of ‘election.’ It was not a matter about which the whole clan would come together to debate under a tree, as the idealised ‘traditional’ image of clan decision making (as described in Lewis 1999) would make believe. Urban- based clan leaders and self-appointed ad-hoc committees tended to dominate the nomination process. Parliamentary representatives therefore often owed their position not to ‘clan consensus’, but rather to a small elite group of kingmakers (SAPD 2002a). clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 103 in October 1969, he spent time in prison and was out of politics for a decade. Upon his release, however, he immediately aligned himself with the regime that had imprisoned him (Bryden 2003). Unlike many other Isaaq intellectuals and cadres who had been jailed by Barre, Egal did not join SNM; on the contrary, he heavily criticised the movement, actively denounced it, and even supported Barre’s repressive policies in the Northwest. Egal’s support of Barre earned him, among numerous offfĳices, an ambassadorship to India and the presidency of the Somali Chamber of Commerce. When the SNM declared independence in May 1991, Egal denounced this move as well. In July of the same year he accepted an invitation from the Djibouti government to take part in peace talks intended to restore a national government in Somalia. The conference reafffĳirmed the territorial integrity of Somalia and provided for the formation of an administration in Mogadishu. The new Somaliland government had refused to attend the talks in Djibouti, yet Egal was there, in his capacity of a Somali “elder statesman.”28 The new president’s credentials as a proponent of Somaliland independence (or even its existence) were thus less than convincing. Yet, the elders’ conference in Borama selected him anyway. If he stuck to his new allegiance as a Somalilander, he could be instrumental in the quest for international recognition. Egal was an older, well known and respected statesman in the region, not some obscure, unknown guerrilla commander. More important, by selecting Egal, the elders were able to side- line further ex-SNM fĳigures who were held responsible for the intra-Isaaq conflict. To be sure, ex-SNM commanders still played crucial roles: allegedly one of the main Habar Awal commanders was instrumental in securing the candidacy of Egal in the fĳirst place. Yet, with the presidency out of direct SNM reach, the ex-SNM politicians would be considerably weakened. The elders of the non-Isaaq clans also preferred to support a non- SNM civilian over a more militant, Isaaq-oriented SNM politician or commander29 The delegates did elect an ex-SNM commander as the new Somaliland vice president. But he was not an Isaaq. The selection of Abdirahman Aw Ali, reflected the involvement of Gadabursi clan elders and politicians in the making of Somaliland. In June 1993, President Egal announced his new cabinet. He strategically incorporated Tuur’s former opposition in his government, notably two SNM colonels of Alan As denomination. However, none of the new

28 Dr. Mohammed Rashid Hassan, interview, Hargeysa 03/04/2003. 29 Dr. Mohammed Rashid Hassan, interview, Hargeysa 03/04/2003. 104 CHAPTER FOUR cabinet members were men who had played a decisive role in the clashes at Bur’o and Berbera. Egal also excluded men who had played a role in Mogadishu politics after the fall of Barre.30 Balancing political allegiances, Egal also showed amazing skill in exploiting clan politics. The clan elders made Egal the head of a hybrid state. Paradoxically, Egal would eventually undo that hybridity by masterfully manipulating it, displacing the clan elders as the political power to be reckoned with in Somaliland.

C. Peace, Governance and State Outside the Isaaq Heartland

After Somaliland’s declaration of independence and therefore claim to statehood, SNM political competitors fought over state control in the heartland of the Isaaq, the Bur’o-Berbera-Hargeysa triangle. Eventually the clan elders stepped in, as we have seen, brokering a peace and rear- ranging the state’s institutional set-up, including themselves in the structures of the state. Outside the Isaaq heartland, however, things evolved at a diffferent pace. The intra-Isaaq conflict over state control influenced local dynamics. East of the Bur’o-Berbera-Hargeysa triangle the war between Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo complicated peacemaking between Isaaq and non-Isaaq. West of the triangle it gave local non-Isaaq actors plenty of room for undisturbed local political and social development. In both east and west the clan elders were heavily invested in local peacemaking and governance. Yet, as a consequence of the diffferent local situ- ations, the areas east and west of the Somaliland heartland evolved in diffferent directions.

3.1. East of Isaaq Heartland: Clan Elders Govern Basic Security It was not the SNM government or the Somaliland state that took over after the fall of the military regime and brokered a peace between the Isaaq and the non-Isaaq. The clan elders did. In the cases where politicians were at all involved in peace negotiations between clans, they acted in their capacity as clansmen, not in their capacity as political actors competing for state power. In a convergence of interests, elders, politicians, traders and pastoralists helped restore a measure of stability in the East.

30 Notably Northern members of the Manifesto group of the Transitional National Government under Mohammed Ali Mahdi. Reportedly Omar Arteh did try to get in, offfering gifts to Somaliland dignitaries, including clothes and air tickets for the pilgrimage to Mecca (Indian Ocean Newsletter 12/06/1993). clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 105

Due to the political complexity of the situation, however, the maximum that could be achieved was basic security. The existence of Somaliland was acknowledged, but power-sharing issues among eastern clan, between Isaaq and Harti or in relation to Somaliland, were not addressed. As a consequence, for a long time the east would remain peripheral to Somaliland politics. The situation in the East was bewilderingly complex. The area beyond Bur’o was inhabited by two Isaaq clans—the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo, as well as by two non-Isaaq clans—the Dhulbahante and the Warsengeli (together called the Harti). As the Barre regime withered and collapsed, elders of the Isaaq and the Harti clans (in conjunction with SNM and Harti military commanders) had started negotiating and had agreed on local cease fĳires. There were careful attempts at reopening trade routes and reinitiating commercial activities (Farah and Lewis 1993). Yet, in large, the situation remained frozen. Clan boundaries became real boundaries as clans agreed to stay in their own territories to avoid renewed conflict. After the fall of the Barre regime, Habar Yunis militia of the SNM had moved into Erigavo, the main town of Sanaag region, traditionally shared between the Habar Yunis, the Habar Ja’lo, the Warsengeli and the Dhulbahante. The Habar Yunis commanders tried to set up a regional administration which collapsed almost instantly because the Harti clans would not recognise it. Not even the Isaaq Habar Ja’lo were on board. In order to remedy this, Habar Yunis elders started negotiations with the Habar Ja’lo, and as a result, a guurti of 43 elders representing the Isaaq clans in the region was formed in January 1992. The guurti was to settle any disputes with the Harti clans, restore stability and appoint a regional administration (Bradbury 1996: 36). But when the conflict between SNM political competitors in Bur’o and Berbera hit Erigavo, the Habar Yunis militia drove their Habar Ja’lo former-SNM comrades out. As a result, the Isaaq guurti in Erigavo collapsed, and only the Habar Yunis militia was left in town.31 Leaving the situation as it was, however, was not a viable option. Persistent or unresolved conflict between the Isaaq and the Harti (and the Isaaq among themselves) was causing severe problems for the largely pastoral population in the area. Because each clan was limited to its own clan area, normal transhumant patterns of moving across boundaries

31 Mohammed Said ‘Gees,’ interview, Hargeysa 06/06/2002. 106 CHAPTER FOUR

Table 1. Overview of Peace Conferences in Somaliland 1991–1993. Clans Meeting place Date (approx.) Name (if any) Dhulbahante–Habar Ja’lo Yagoori 02/1991 Gadabursi–Isaaq Borama 17–19/02/1991 Guul Alla (‘Allah disposed victory’) Gadabursi–‘Iise Borama 17–19/05/1991 Warsengeli–Habar Yunis Yube 18/06/1991 Yube I Habar Yunis–Warsengeli Yube 6–9/10/1991 Yube II Habar Oog 30/10/1991 Yunis–Habar Ja‘lo– Dhulbahante Reer Nur–Jibril Abokor Borama 1992 (?) Habar Awal–Gadabursi Hargeysa 1992 (?) Warsengeli–Habar Ja’lo Eel–Qohle 10/05/1992 Dhulbahante–Habar Kulal/Awr 1–22/06/1992 Ja’lo Bogays Warsengeli–Habar Ja’lo (?) 11–18/08/1992 Habar Ja’lo–Warsengeli– Shinbiraale 16–22/08/1992 Gahayle (Majeerteen32) Dhulbahante–Habar Hudun 1/09/1992 Ja’lo Habar Yunis–Issa Musa Hargeysa 4/10/1992 Gadabursi–eastern Clans (?) 1992 (?) [Harti?]–Saad Musa Gadabursi–‘Iise Geesisa 1992 (?) Gadabursi–‘Iise Agabar 1992 (?) Habar Yunis–Issa Musa Sheikh 28/10–8/11/1992 Tawfĳiiq (‘Understanding’) Warsengeli–Habar Yunis Jiideli 6–9/11/1992 Habar Ja’lo–Warsengeli– Garadag 23/11–1/12/1992 Danwadaag Beri Mohamoud Gerad (DUB)– (‘Eastern Sawaqroon(Majeerteen) Alliance’) Dhulbahante–Habar Dararweyne 2/01–5/02/1993 Khaatumo Yunis (‘Ultimate Reality’)

32 The Gahayle/Majeerteen strongly supported the Barre government against the Isaaq. It is accused of having committed atrocities against the neighbouring Abul Hamud lineage of the Habar Yunis. They fled from their homelands in the northern mountainous region of Erigavo after the defeat of Barre. Most of them have not returned and live with the Majerteen in Bosasso region where they took refuge (Farah and Lewis 1993: 13). clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 107

Table 1. (Cont.) Clans Meeting place Date (approx.) Name (if any) National Borama 24/01–05/1993 Alla Mahadleh (‘Tribute be to Allah’) Dhulbahante–Warsengeli– Erigavo 19/08–11/11/1993 Habar Ja‘lo–Habar Yunis Source: Compiled from: Farah 1993: 9; SDRA and Mennonite Central Committee 1994: 5; SAPD 2002a: 23. were disrupted. Herders did not have access to sufffĳicient grazing lands and watering points. Clan elders stepped in to broker peace deals, since without mutual access to pastoral resources, the population would be unable to survive. Peace conferences would have to deal with such issues as freedom of movement, freedom of trade, access to common grazing areas and water resources and return of lost or stolen property (Bradbury 1996: 39). From February 1991 to November 1993, the East saw a series of sixteen traditional peace conferences, which incrementally improved relations between local clans. The peace forums were called shir. As newfangled peace forums the 1990s’ shirs sometimes combined informal peace making methods with modern conference techniques. Larger peace conferences were chaired by a committee, assisted by a secretariat and a technical committee. The latter often included professionals, former civil servants or military offfĳicials appointed to prepare the agenda and a general framework for resolutions that had to be endorsed by the clan guurtis concerned (Farah and Lewis 1993: 16–17). Clan elders might be herders, but just as likely former military offfĳicers, civil servants, teachers, politicians or any other person deemed knowledgeable or influential. Nevertheless, the meetings essentially employed traditional clan-based mechanisms and institutions to resolve conflicts. However, these peace meetings felt the immediate efffect of the war in Bur’o, Berbera and Hargeysa. The Harti clans did not deal or make peace with the Isaaq as a whole, because the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo were at war. Thus, in the East, the intra-SNM-war produced a situation where one Isaaq clan (the Habar Ja’lo) was seeking an alliance with non- Isaaq clans against a fellow Isaaq clan.33 Peace between the Harti and the

33 The allegation that the Habar Ja’lo explicitly aimed for an alliance against the Habar Yunis is also mentioned in Farah and Lewis (1993: 16–17). 108 CHAPTER FOUR

Habar Yunis was therefore impossible until the Habar Yunis-Habar Ja’lo conflict in Bur’o-Berbera-Hargeysa was resolved. Only in 1993, after the Borama Conference which fĳitted Somaliland with new state institutions and a new president, the Eastern peace process could be resolved.

Peacemaking between the Habar Ja’lo and the Harti Whereas the early peace meetings between the Habar Ja’lo, the Warsengeli and the Dhulbahante had involved SNM commanders and offfĳicials, this was no longer the case: peacemaking was conducted exclusively by clan elders and concerned exclusively pastoral matters. At diffferent meetings between June and August 1992, the Harti and the Habar Ja’lo agreed on granting each other open grazing rights and access to watering points again. Deaths, injuries and material losses inflicted during the war were dealt with as well: deaths were forgiven (no diya had to be paid) and only some of the material losses (notably vital assets such as trucks and livestock) had to be compensated or restored. A joint committee of clan elders oversaw the latter. After dealing with the past, the clan elders made arrangements regarding peace and security in the future: a joint standing elders committee, assisted by clan militias, was to guard the peace. Re venge killings were forbidden; clans agreed to settle any cases through diya (compensation payments). Acts of banditry would have to be compensated and a fĳine paid to the joint elders committee.34 In short, the elders arranged for governance in terms of basic security. Issues of power- sharing t higher levels of political abstraction were extensively debated but not really addressed. The 1992 Garadag Conference wrapped up peace arrangements between the Habar Ja’lo and Harti (the Warsengeli and the Dhulbahante) now known as the Eastern Alliance. The conference acknowledged the existence of Somaliland and insisted on a fair representation in its governance. The fĳinal proclamation expressed the wish that “Somaliland communities establish a representative and efffective modern administration.”35 To prepare the national conference, the Garadag Conference suggested the formation of a representative national Guurti.36 This is what

34 The proceedings of the Shimbiraale conference in annex of Farah and Lewis (1993). 35 The proceedings of the Garadag ‘Eastern Alliance’ Conference in annex of Farah and Lewis (1993). 36 The proceedings of the Garadag ‘Eastern Alliance’ Conference in annex of Farah and Lewis (1993). clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 109 eventually happened at the Borama Conference in 1993. But apart from these few allusions, the clan elders steered well clear of national politics.

Peace-Making between the Habar Yunis and the Harti The emergence of the Eastern Alliance isolated the Habar Yunis in the east. But as soon as the situation in Hargeysa between the government and the opposition cleared up after the meeting at Sheikh, the Habar Yunis were able to start sending their own peace delegations to the Harti. The Habar Yunis approached the Warsengeli fĳirst on the issues of pastoral resource-sharing by clans and the reopening of trade routes. The outcome of subsequent meetings between them concerned war reparations and security arrangements for the future that would be overseen by joint committees of elders, local peace committees of elders and local clan guurtis.37 The same kind of agreements were eventually reached between the Habar Yunis and the Dhulbahante. Yet, negotiations about sharing pastoral resources between these groups were difffĳicult because of the complex picture regarding owning, using and sharing land in the area. Under the Barre regime the Habar Yunis had lost a great deal of land to the Harti.38 During the 1970s the government transformed large portions of traditional pastoral lands in Erigavo to about twenty-two large grazing reserves, mostly owned by bogus cattle raising cooperatives but actually owned by wealthy or well-connected families (Farah and Lewis 1993: 44). The Dhulbahante (as well as the Warsengeli) are said to have formed considerable range reserves in areas traditionally frequented by the Habar Yunis. Since the reserves were not open to transhumant herding, the dispossessed Habar Yunis lineage groups tried to oppose the trend, although some of their wealthy kinsmen participated in the process of land enclosure. When Barre’s regime collapsed, the Dhulbahante and Warsengeli clans had to flee. The Habar Yunis repossessed the vacated grazing reserves and distributed them among their members, rather than opening them up again for pastoral exploitation. The issue was made all the more difffĳicult by the fact that important investments had been made in the range reserves, such as water reservoirs and buildings. Some of these investments had been made by private actors, others by NGOs or the Barre government. The Habar Yunis therefore claimed that the reserves were public property. The Darod, on the other hand, claimed that they were legally acquired private property (Farah and Lewis 1993:

37 The proceedings of the Jidili clan conference in annex of Farah and Lewis (1993). 38 The Harti include the Dhulbahante, Warsengeli and Majeerteen clans of the Darod. 110 CHAPTER FOUR

45; Bradbury 1996: 33). In the end, however, clan elders successfully restored peace and mutual access to pastoral resources between the Habar Yunis and both Harti clans. Again, as had been the case in the negotiations between Habar Ja’lo and Harti, power-sharing or state level politics were shunned.39

The Regional Peace Conference at Erigavo As basic peace and security between the clans had been achieved, a region-wide peace conference was planned to deal with some outstanding issues regarding war reparations, Erigavo (the main urban centre in Sanaag region which was still occupied by the Habar Yunis militia) and fĳinally, regional governance. The conference would succeed in dealing with war reparations, but fail in fostering more than minimal governance structures. Governance would remain at basic security level: elders committees overseeing local peace arrangements. Remarkably, the clan elders who steered the process at Erigavo attempted to deal with peace and governance in a quasi apolitical way. They acknowledged and recognized the existence of Somaliland as a state, but did not address their clans’ stake in it or the anticipated regional administration’s place in it. The regional conference was prepared by Sanaag elders who would also participate in the national Borama Conference. Although the Borama Conference clearly had constitutional goals and ambitions, the Erigavo conference was to be exclusively dedicated to peace and stability in Sanaag region. The Somaliland state and the new Egal government were asked not to get involved: it was to be a ‘traditional’ clan meeting without government interference. There would be no discussions about Somalia or Somaliland politics. President Egal accepted this request.40 As Erigavo town was still occupied by the Habar Yunis, preparations had to proceed very carefully. Mohammed Said Gees, a Warsengeli politician who was the Somaliland Minister of Planning when I interviewed him, recalls that when he and another Warsengeli delegate came to Erigavo as the fĳirst and only Warsengeli elders at the time. They were picked up at the airport by “a very influential ex-SNM Habar Yunis man”

39 At the fĳirst meeting between Habar Yunis and Warsengeli, the representatives of the Habar Yunis included a former SNM commander and a member of the SNM Central Committee. The Warsengeli argued that if they were to meet as political parties, they should be recognised as the ‘Warsengeli Government.’ The only way they were able to proceed with negotiations was to meet as clans using ‘traditional’ mechanisms of conflict resolution (interview Mohammed Said ‘Gees,’ interview, Hargeysa 06/06/2002). 40 Mahamed Abdi Hamud ‘9,’ interview, Hargeysa 08/06/2002. clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 111 and taken to his house.41 The spouse of the Habar Yunis man was a Warsengeli woman and a cousin of Gees. Both Warsengeli delegates were thus under the Habar Yunis man’s personal protection. They started to draft the schedule for the conference and set up preparatory committees with a representation of four or fĳive people per clan.42 The preparatory committee had to look into organisational, logistical, security and agenda matters. It was decided that the Erigavo conference would be convened in August 1993. At the request of the clan representatives at the Borama Conference, the committee attending to conference logistics teamed up with an eastern Sanaag-based NGO, called Somali Development and Relief Agency (SDRA). The NGO had close relations with the German NGO German Agro Action, which was able to mobilise fĳinancial support from some other international organisations to pay expenses such as food and blankets.43 Security for the conference was entrusted to the two host communities, (the Habar Yunis and the Warsengeli), who established a (temporary) police force of 115 men. No militia troops, tanks, or technicals were allowed to come from outside the town and excess technicals owned by the host communities were to be stored out of the town (SDRA and MCC 1994: 7–8). After about four months, the Sanaag clans managed to solve many of the outstanding problems among them. As for the fĳirst (bilateral) part of the agenda, remarkable progress was made. Two clans would just come together under the trees; the conference secretariat would send a secretary to offfĳicially record resolutions which would then be endorsed by all the conference delegates. Fixed assets which were still disputed property at the time, such as houses, farms, water tanks or cars, were given back to the owners. Some other issues remained outstanding: enclosures with no farms (disputed up to today),44 and a few cases of blood revenge.45 Part two of the region-wide agenda resulted in the planned establishment of a regional guurti and administration. The committees that had

41 The interviewee did not mention the name of the Habar Yunis man; Mohammed Said ‘Gees,’ interview, Hargeysa 06/06/2002. 42 Mohammed Said ‘Gees,’ interview, Hargeysa 06/06/2002. 43 Other organisations who eventually supported the Erigavo Conference include: Mennonite Central Committee, Life and Peace Institute, Somalaid (Geneva), Oxfam America, French Embassy in Djibouti, United States Embassy in Djibouti, Islamic Relief, UNOSOM, Avior Technologies (Djibouti), Action Aid UK and Stead Fast Voluntary Organisation (SVO) (Las Anod). 44 They were not registered, so they had no ownership title which made it difffĳicult to establish rightful ownership. 45 Mohammed Said ‘Gees,’ interview, Hargeysa 06/06/2002. 112 CHAPTER FOUR been set up in the bilateral meetings between clans (the ‘joint peace committees’) were assimilated into what was called the Executive Committee of the Regional Administration. This Executive Committee was also entrusted with the duty of organising law and order institutions, including a Regional Security Force (police and prison guards’ corps) and law courts. Until these were efffectively established, the clans would remain responsible for peacekeeping in their areas. The Sanaag Peace Charter established an explicit link with the Somal- iland state. State property was recognised, and the Regional Administration took on the responsibility for custody and management of state assets in the region. Furthermore, the peace charter included the provision that if there were a conflict between any of the provisions in the Charter and the laws of the Somaliland state, the state law would prevail.46 After the conference, the conference chair and vice chair went to Hargeysa to brief president Egal. Reportedly, he was very pleased with the outcome.47 This said, the Sanaag Regional Administration would fail to take root any time soon. Nor were matters directed from Hargeysa.

3.2. West of Isaaq Heartland While in the East governance set up by the clan elders never went beyond local security arrangements, in the West it did. Arguably, the western region of Awdal benefĳited from its isolation. After the fall of Barre the SNM had not been a signifĳicant political factor in Awdal. Before the Borama Conference Awdal offfĳicially had a commissioner to serve as an interim chief administrator for the region—in casu Abdirahman Aw Ali, the Gadabursi SNM colonel. However, it was left to regulate its own afffairs.48 De facto, the clan elders governed Awdal. Since no Isaaq were politically involved in local afffairs and since the Gadabursi clans (the only major clan family in the region) were at peace with each other, the elders were able to set up proper governance, administration and even limited services for the local population. This local administration became Somaliland administration, part of Somaliland. Moreover, its voluntary inclusion had a major impact on Somaliland’s claim to statehood, because the country could no longer be seen as an exclusive Isaaq state.

46 The proceedings of Erigavo Conference, in annex of SDRA and MCC (1994). 47 Mahamed Abdi Hamud ‘9,’ interview, Hargeysa 08/06/2002. 48 Ibrahim Magan, interview, Borama 23/03/2003. clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 113

Governance and administration in Awdal region were set up by the Gadabursi Guurti of 21, a body of clan elders which had emerged from the elders committees that had organised the Gadabursi defence against SNM incursions during the war.49 Within four months after the fall of Mogadishu, Gadabursi elders and intellectuals met and agreed to form committees responsible for security, fĳinances and social issues. They collected taxes which were used to provide rations to the (not yet demo- bilized) Gadabursi militia in order to keep them under control. Further, they agreed on strict punishments for crimes and fĳinanced the reopening of fĳive primary schools (Menkhaus 1997: 12). The clan elders contributed to getting the local administration back on its feet. Although reportedly the Borama municipality never really stopped functioning (records such as land titles were always kept and never lost), it had been in a bad shape since 1988.50 Moreover, the Gadabursi clan elders were actively involved in providing social services through a “civic coalition” involving prominent businessmen, intellectuals and professionals running local NGOs (Menkhaus 1997: 12). Because it was so isolated from the rest of Somalia, the military regime had not kept such close a watch on the region as it had on others. NGOs and civil movements in Awdal had been allowed to develop undisturbed, in contrast to similar initiatives in Hargeysa, such as Ufffo, which were immediately crushed. Even before the collapse of the Barre regime, local initiatives addressed specifĳic community needs that were not met by the government. For example, a local businessman, Abdi Mohammed Muuse ‘Guus,’ established the fĳirst local NGO in Borama, in response to the collapse of government social services. The NGO was at the forefront of a local efffort to construct the Borama airstrip in 1988, which was necessary to breaking the region’s isolation after the civil war. This NGO also participated in establishing a school, a clinic and a library (Menkhaus 1997: 13). Another local NGO, called Social Services Voluntary Organisation (SOSVO) was founded in 1992. SOSVO was set up “to contribute to peace and reconstruction.” Many of the founders of these local NGOs were former government employees who set up a local NGO as a way of providing a livelihood after loosing their jobs. Many other local NGOs emerged as sub-contractors for international organisations, which were based in Awdal because the rest of Somalia was difffĳicult to access.51

49 Ibrahim Magan, interview, Borama 23/03/2003. 50 Mahamed Muse Bahdoon, interview, Borama 23/03/2003. 51 Abdirahman Jim’aale ‘Dherre,’ interview, Hargeysa 02/02/2002. 114 CHAPTER FOUR

The Gadabursi clan elders cooperated with the NGOs and local businesses to steer local development. Some of the local NGOs generated local resources (cash or labour) for local development projects controlled by the clan elders. Awdal businessmen contributed to local development projects, responding to calls from the local elders. Finally clan elders to some extent even regulated competition for international funding among local NGOs (Menkhaus 1997: 33). Thus, without state presence or intervention, the Gadabursi elders, as part of the civic coalition, were able to bring relative stability and some degree of development to the region. They engaged with security, governance and social service provision and were doing much better than the government of Somaliland proper at the time. While the Isaaq were at war with each other, governance in Awdal developed independently. Upon Egal’s accession to power, the Gadabursi elders agreed to have Awdal’s governance structures insert themselves into Somaliland’s—in return for their relative autonomy. The Gadabursi Guurti of 21 joined the national Somaliland Guurti. While Egal’s government now appointed a mayor and a governor to Borama, the local elders continued to play a direct role in local governance as members of the Social Committee of Elders, chaired by the paramount titled elder of the Gadabursi, Haji Jaama Mohammed Ugaas Elmi. The 7-man body de facto acted as a substitute for an elected district council as long as no such body existed. Having considerable leverage over the population, the Social Committee of Elders was at the same time a competitor for power with the central government as well as an indispensable ally whose approval was needed for policies to succeed (Menkhaus 1997: 13). Furthermore, elders committees dealt with land disputes (using the records of the municipality), homicides and other crimes. Among diya paying groups. State offfĳicials just took note of their decision.52 The limits to what the Gadabursi clan elders could achieve became clear when, in one of his fĳirst bids to establish control over Somaliland territory, President Egal called upon the elders to mop up the freelance Gadabursi militias roaming the Awdal countryside. The militias consisted of teenage boys and unmarried men for whom the military was their livelihood. They set up check points on main roads, extorting cash from truck drivers and qaad from the qaad-runners. They also provided armed services to their clansmen: if members of a particular clan seized property of

52 Gadabursi sultaan I and II, interview, Borama 25/05/2003. clan elders and the forging of a hybrid state 115 an individual from a diffferent clan, armed clansmen of the latter would launch a counter raid. Militias also claimed levies at roadblocks as legitimate taxation and compensation for their unpaid services to their clans (Farah and Lewis 1993: 60). Nevertheless, these boys were not under the control of their clan elders. Refusing to give up their livelihood, they did not recognize the authority of the elders, accusing them of making money from their position and calling them koofĳiyad bacle, “Those who wear plastic hats.” This derogative term referred to the hats worn by Somali elders as a symbol of their moral authority. The militia called them “plastic” in reference to the plastic bags that urban Somalis use to carry their cash (Farah and Lewis 1993: 60). The Gadabursi clan elders had a lot to show in terms of improving governance, administration and providing basic services. They had achieved a lot in terms of making peace between clans and keeping individuals in line with a peaceful social order. But they had a very hard time trying to keep armed groups in check. They simply did not have the means, institutional or military, to enforce their decisions or rulings. This state of afffairs would only change when the state became stronger and had more coercive or otherwise convincing means at its disposal.

D. Conclusion

After the Borama and Erigavo conferences in 1993 Somaliland emerged as a hybrid, negotiated state, a collection of national and local governance arrangements that were to diffferent degrees connected and which had evolved at diffferent speeds. The importance of clan elders and clan- based institutions in the building and functioning of each of these arrangements can hardly be overstated. In all of them clan elders brought peace and a measure of political stability. In the East the arrangement has been limited to elders overseeing local security agreements. In the West the arrangement has entailed local governance and administration embedded in Somaliland’s state structures and institutions. Still largely controlled by the elders of the Guurti, the national state institutions in Hargeysa reflected the distribution of political weight of Somaliland’s constituent clans in a state that for the time being was still largely powerless. CHAPTER FIVE

“AT THE CENTRE OF PEACE AND WAR”: PRAGMATIC STATE BUILDING UNDER THE EGAL GOVERNMENT, 1993–1997

The new president, elected at the 1993 Borama Conference, was perfectly at ease in Somaliland’s hybrid political space. An old Somali politician, a former prime minister and diplomat, Mohammed Ibrahim Egal dealt as easily with clan elders as with international offfĳicials and government leaders. Before Egal, Somaliland was run by clan elders through clan institutions with little meaningful political competition from any other actors or institutions. Although Somaliland had had a government (President Tuur and the SNM central committee) and some governance institutions (ministries and some local government entities) for two years after its claim of independent statehood, statehood was in fact little more than a nominal claim. Soon after its inception the SNM government ceased to be regarded as a government within Somaliland itself and much less outside its borders. Under Egal’s presidency, this started to change, however. The hybrid political space, to be sure, continued to exist. But whereas before the clan elders had been on top, now Egal succeeded in moving himself to centre stage.

A. Somaliland and UNOSOM II

International intervention in Somalia in the early 1990s set some of the conditions for the further development of Somaliland and the expansion of central rule. Somaliland could have benefĳitted from some international help with state-building because Egal had to start where Tuur had left the country: with nothing. However, Egal’s requests for international help, were turned down. State-building in former Somalia had to happen on the terms of the international community.

1.1. Somaliland 1993: Asking International Aid for Somaliland State-Building Meets Refusal Political arrangements reached at the Borama Conference had raised public expectations. The challenges, however, were enormous. 118 chapter five

Two issues—noted in the Transitional National Charter drafted at Borama—were of vital importance to consolidate government rule: demobilisation of the remaining clan militias (more or less controlled by their clans or former SNM commanders) through their incorporation into the Somaliland National Army and establishment of government control over the public infrastructure, such as ports, airports and roads. The same fundamental problem deadlock persisted, however: without fĳinancial resources there could be no demobilisation of the militias, without demobilisation there was no access to state resources that might generate state revenue. As long as roads were littered with clan militia checkpoints, businessmen incurred high costs paying them offf. As long as other facilities, such as air– and seaports were under control of militias, the new administration would be in no position to generate income from taxation to sustain itself, much less to implement policies or development plans. One month after his ascent to the presidency Egal reformulated a request for foreign aid, appealing to foreign donors to reinforce the Somaliland police, already set up by the former administration. Policemen needed to be paid, fed, and furnished with uniforms and vehicles. Yet, none of the international donors were forthcoming with substantial fĳinancial help for Somaliland—a state that technically did not exist, as it was not recognised as an independent country.1 Token assistance was offfered by the French government, as well as some assistance from the United Kingdom. However, the profffered telecom equipment, uniforms and seconded instructors for the police2 were insufffĳicient to equip the tens of thousands of militia brought together at Mandera, midway between Hargeysa and Berbera.3 As Egal’s Minister of the Interior, Musa Bihe, former SNM commander, recalls that he had “25.000 former SNM militiamen camped in Mandera, with no money, no rations and no plan to disarm them.” At the end of 1993, the situation became particularly tense as a considerable portion of the militia headed for Hargeysa, plundering everything that crossed their paths. According to his own account, Bihe called on the national

1 According to the Indian Ocean Newsletter, Egal wanted a military treaty with a Western power to guarantee Somaliland’s security. France had already been called upon, notably for assistance through military advisors. The request was confronted with the obstacle that the French government did not offfĳicially recognise Somaliland (Indian Ocean Newsletter 10/07/1993). 2 Indian Ocean Newsletter 04/09/1993. 3 Musa Bihe, interview, Hargeysa 30/06/2002. “at the centre of peace and war” 119

Guurti and some of the titled elders to meet the militia on their way to the capital. They were able to defuse the situation temporarily but the problem, of course, remained.4 Meanwhile, Egal, lacking international recognition of Somaliland’s self-proclaimed independence, did not succeed in garnering fĳinancial or other support. Moreover, Somaliland’s submission of its candidature for membership of the United Nations in August 1993 was met with indiffference.

1.2. Origins of UNOSOM II International involvement in Somalia after the collapse of the Barre regime was informed by the situation in southern Somalia. The government of Somaliland, which was distant from Mogadishu and was going through its own process of political negotiation and rearrangement, as we have seen, did not wish to have any part in it. Yet, because Somaliland was seen as a part of Somalia by the international community, it ended up entangled in the intervention anyway. The demise of the Barre regime had brought about unprecedented chaos and confusion in the south of Somalia, particularly in the capital Mogadishu. None of the opposition factions fĳighting the government was strong enough to fĳill the power vacuum that ensued. None succeeded in establishing military control over the capital Mogadishu. Competing warlords—as they were called in the media coverage—fought each other over strategic assets including ports, airports, roads or arable land. The countryside of southern Somalia sufffered terribly: roaming bands of militia looted or destroyed agricultural assets in the fertile Juba valley. With domestic food production slashed, southern Somalia faced a serious fam- ine. When footage of starving Somali children was televised inside the homes of Americans and Europeans by mid-1991, the international community fĳinally took action. By April 1992, the fĳirst post-Cold War humanitarian intervention began5 with the UN Blue Helmets to oversee the delivery of international food aid, now unavailable because persistent looting by the Somali warlords. The mission aimed to restore peace and order in stateless Somalia and, in cooperation with the other UN agencies, create conditions favourable to state reconstruction. The assumption behind the mission was that the

4 Musa Bihe, interview, Hargeysa 30/06/2002. 5 Subsequent resolutions would signifĳicantly expand the UN Mandate in Somalia (United Nations Security Council Resolution 751 (1992)). 120 chapter five

Somali state had to be reconstructed at all costs, ideally with the support of as many political actors as possible. From March, 1993 the United Nations’ Somalia policy was handled by the political afffairs offfĳice of the UN operation, called UNOSOM 6II. Earlier UN involvement in April 1992 was limited to a classic peacekeeping mission to counter chaos caused by the warlords operating in Mogadishu. However UNOSOM I had expanded its operations to include the protection of privately organised (NGO) humanitarian relief operations outside Mogadishu as well. But the UNOSOM I mandate and associated manpower were too limited, and soon it was overrun by the armed factions in Mogadishu. Humanitarian aid agencies sufffered extortion, looting and threats to their safety. Food aid did not reach its target population but instead sustained the violence in and outside of Mogadishu. UN Security Council resolution 794, passed unanimously in December 1992, tried to change the situation by installing a peace enforcement rather than a peacekeeping mission. Mandated by the Security Council, the United States would lead a United Task Force (UNTAF) to enforce peace. Operation Restore Hope would restore order, after which Blue Helmets under the mandate of a second UN mission (UNOSOM II), would resume peace keeping. UNTAF managed to a certain extent to pacify Mogadishu, but during the transfer of command between UNTAF and UNOSOM II no disarmament of the warring factions took place, and in due course UNOSOM II ran into similar problems as UNOSOM I. In response, the UNOSOM II mandate was expanded to include peace enforcement and disarmament as well, and the operation would not be limited to Mogadishu and southern Somalia but would include the rest of the former Somali Republic, including Somaliland.7 UNOSOM II deployed 28,000 troops as part of the operation. The Somaliland government immediately rejected the idea of troop deployment in the North. Tuur’s Foreign Afffairs Minister8 had called the planned deployment “needless and superfluous.” In danger of causing unnecessary tension, it could potentially wreak havoc on the peace and stability of Somaliland. Moreover, he said that the question of union between

6 United Nations Security Council Resolution 814 (26/3/1993). See also: The United Nations and Somalia 1992–1996, (1996: 261). 7 Detailed analysis of the UN operation and its rationale in Sahnoun (1994), Hirsh and Oakley (1995), African Rights (1993), Omaar and De Waal (1994) and Netherlands Development Cooperation (1994). 8 The Egal government had not yet been formed; the Borama Conference was still going on. “at the centre of peace and war” 121

Somalia and Somaliland was “a closed fĳile.”9 At the time when Somaliland politicians, elders, military leaders and intellectuals were assembled in Borama for the clan conference that would establish the institutions for an independent Somaliland and elect the new government, the UNOSOM II political afffairs offfĳice sponsored and organised a Somali-wide conference in Addis Ababa that aimed to put the old Somali state back together. Although the conference in Addis was offfĳicially designed to bring together political, military and community organisations from all over Somalia, the majority of the delegates were in fact only from various military factions.10 There was no offfĳicial delegation from either SNM or Somaliland, which refused to take part and only sent an observer to Addis. At the Addis Conference, a Transitional Charter was drafted that provided a framework for the re-establishment of a central government for Somalia. The fĳirst step was to set up a Transitional National Council. Prior to the National Council, District and Regional Councils were to be established according to what was advertised as a “grassroots approach.” Coordination for the establishment of the local councils was put in the hands of UNOSOM II (Brons 2001: 236). While the United Nations hailed the Addis Conference as “the fĳirst step in a bold international experiment in nation-building” (ICG 2003a: 17) little progress was actually made. The UN’s nation building effforts, including US-led military actions, degenerated into a war against one of the faction leaders in the capital, General Mohammed Farah Aideed. As tension built, the Aideed faction attacked the UN peacekeepers, killing 24 Pakistani Blue Helmets. The incident led to pursuit of Aideed, culminating in a raid executed by US Army Rangers on the October 3, 1993, which killed 18 American soldiers and an unknown number of Somalis.11 The UN’s insistence on implementing the Addis Ababa Agreement backfĳired not only in southern Somalia: in the Northwest—Somaliland— the UN’s political offfĳice fatally failed to support the ongoing process of peace-making and political consolidation, seriously contributing to undermining the building of a stable polity.

9 Indian Ocean Newsletter 13/03/93. 10 Signatories were only the military factions, see the Addis Ababa Agreement of the First Session of the Conference on National Reconciliation in Somalia 27/03/93, in Brons (1993). 11 The episode was made into a fĳilm by Ridley Scott, called Black hawk down, based on the book by Mark Bowden, titled Black hawk down: a story of modern war. Estimates of the number of Somali casualties vary considerably from less than 200 to more than 1000. 122 chapter five

1.3. UNOSOM’s Destructive State Reconstruction In March 1993, the committee of chairmen of the Borama Conference issued a communiqué addressed to the Secretary-General of the UN and the Security Council which called on the UN and its forces to stay out of Somaliland unless authorised by the Somaliland authorities.12 Pointing out that in their opinion no facilitation was required for peacemaking in Somaliland and that the Borama Conference had marked the conclusion of the Northern peace process the communiqué welcomed any fĳinancial help the UN wished to give to establish the Somaliland police force for maintaining law and order. Nor, the communiqué pointed out, was there a need for the UN to protect food aid convoys, since Somaliland was not receiving any food aid. The communiqué concluded by saying that no interim government was needed, as Somaliland already had a democrati- cally elected government. Unmoved, UNOSOM II pushed to implement the Addis Ababa Agree- ment by seemingly rather devious methods, trying to dislodge local peace processes and political arrangements on the ground that did not suit their agenda of reconstructing a Somali state. Leonard Kamungo, UNOSOM II’s head of political afffairs, visited Las Anod while many of the Dhulbahante leaders were attending the Sanaag peace meeting in Erigavo. Taking advantage of their absence, he put forward the idea of Somali unity, talking to Dhulbahante politicians who apparently had been sidelined by the local peace processes in the region. On a subsequent visit to Hargeysa, Kamungo reminded president Egal that he could deploy UNOSOM II military units in Somaliland, without Egal’s consent if necessary. The move prompted Egal to reply—with the appropriate sense of pathos—that Hargeysa then “would become the United Nations Dien Bien Phu,” giving Kamungo 24 hours to leave Somaliland.13 UNOSOM II nevertheless pursued its strategy of attaining Somali national unity through shattering local peace processes. Sool and Sanaag regional elders, politicians and military leaders at Erigavo had given their support to Somaliland independence. In a letter to UNOSOM II, the representatives at Erigavo (including Garaad Abdiqani, the paramount titled

12 The full text of the communiqué can be found in annex to Brons (1993). 13 Indian Ocean Newsletter 18/09/1993. The battle of Dien Bien Phu (1954) was the decisive confrontation between French colonial armies and the communist Viet Minh. The French (and their Vietnamese allies) suf- fered a crushing defeat. As a result France immediately had to withdraw from Indochina (Vietnam) under the 1954 Geneva Accords. “at the centre of peace and war” 123 elder of the Dhulbahante asked UNOSOM not to allow unauthorised representatives from Sool and Sanaag to attend the forthcoming UN humanitarian conference to be held in Addis Ababa, as Sool and Sanaag were part of Somaliland.14 On the instigation of the UN political offfĳice for Somalia a number of Warsengeli and Dhulbahante, (men who had not been representatives at the Erigavo conference) were lured into attending an alternative meeting in Garowe, disregarding the Erigavo agreement and committing to a reconstructed Somalia.15 Ignoring the request of the Erigavo representatives, UNOSOM II appointed the Dhulbahante/Warsengeli based United Somali Party (USP) faction16 as the legitimate representative of the people in Sool and Sanaag.17 In December 1993, the USP leader and the SSDF Majeerteen-based military movement of Abdillahi Yusuf,18 who had been enemies under Barre, organised a meeting of Harti clans at Garowe, outside Somaliland in SSDF-held territory. The meeting was attended by more than 250 clan leaders from Sool, Sanaag, Bari, Mudug and Nugaal. During the meeting it was decided that Sool and Sanaag should become part of Somalia (as opposed to Somaliland) and that their leaders would join the future Transitional National Government. The participants also agreed that the clans would disarm and form a security council to oversee security in the fĳive areas represented at the conference. Yet, it seems that the representatives of the Warsengeli and Dhulbahante at the Garowe meeting were in fact neither appropriate or legitimate: the most important and

14 Somalia News Update 27/06/1994; Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/1994. 15 There was one preparatory conference of Dhulbahante elders in Bo’ane (Sool). It was shortly before Borama and these same conflicts regarding the support for the diffferent political set-ups arose (this conference will be discussed later in chapter 7). 16 The USP was originally created in the late 1950s under the British Protectorate Administration. It had been founded by Darod politicians who were opposed to Somaliland independence as this would push the Darod in a minority position in the new state. In view of its chief purpose—preventing Somaliland independence, the party withered upon unifĳication of the former Somaliland Protectorate with the former Italian Trust Territory of Somalia. Under Barre the USP did not exist, as all political parties were banned. The USP resurfaced only after Barre’s demise: it had never been one of the armed Somali liberation movements such as SNM, SSDF, USC or SPM (Prunier 1995). Movements such as the USP re-emerged largely as a result of the externally-sponsored peace-conferences. They were small private initiatives of a limited number of individuals without meaningful popular backing, set up in order to win a share in the spoils of internationally-sponsored peacemaking. The UN political offfĳicers supported them in their effforts if they backed UN political priorities, notably Somali unifĳication. 17 Somalia News Update 27/06/1994; Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/1994. 18 The SSDF had been revived when Abdillahi Yusuf got out of Ethiopian prison with the fall of the Megistu regime in 1991. 124 chapter five influential leaders of these clans attended the meeting in Erigavo instead. Nevertheless, UNOSOM II pushed on, ignoring the Erigavo conference and its outcome.19 Throughout 1994 UNOSOM II persisted in questioning the status of Sool and Sanaag, causing the Hargeysa government to accuse UNOSOM of introducing instability in the region. It had been clear throughout the peace process that not all Dhulbahante and Warsengeli political leaders saw their future within Somaliland. The Hargeysa government had never tried to keep this a secret; discussions and negotiations were still possible. Yet, by setting up high profĳile district councils in two regions of Sool and Sanaag, which already had moderately functioning political and administrative arrangements, UNOSOM actively and deliberately jeopardised the peace process. The UN mission also refused to recognise (even temporarily) any Somaliland institution. According to UNOSOM, Somaliland was to be forced to rejoin with the troubled south and be legally subjugated to the yet-to-be-established government in Mogadishu.20 UNOSOM II political offfĳicers were quite consistent in always preferring opposition to Somaliland authorities, over allowing for the possibility that they might have at least some measure of legitimate control and jurisdiction that the UN could work with.21 UNOSOM II even supported political fĳigures with or without an actual constituency or following if they declared that they would endorse a unifĳied Somalia. In addition to their support of exiled opposition groups from Sool and Sanaag (notably USP), UNOSOM II supported the attempts by Abdirahman Tuur to be reinstated as the legitimate leader of Somaliland.22 When Tuur lost the vote at the 1993 Borama Conference, he did not accept defeat and saw the UNOSOM II involvement with Somalia and Somaliland as a way to win back political leverage. Astoundingly, Tuur revoked and denounced the independence of Somaliland.23 This move earned him the immediate approval of UNOSOM II. Then, following talks

19 Somalia News Update 27/06/1994; Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/1994. 20 Somalia News Update 27/08/1994; Horn of Africa Bulletin 4/1994. 21 The ‘pigheadedness’ of UNOSOM II, which was there to oversee and protect humanitarian aid to what was left of Somalia, interfered with that very purpose. NGO representatives repeatedly expressed the concern that the difffĳiculties between Hargeysa and UNOSOM were actually making their work more arduous. On one occasion, the discontent among international NGOs present in Hargeysa led to their refusal to obey instruc- tions from New York to evacuate Somaliland at the same time as the expelled United Nations political offfĳicials (Indian Ocean Newsletter 02/10/1993). 22 Somalia News Update 26/08/1994. 23 Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe,’ interview, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. “at the centre of peace and war” 125 with Mogadishu warlord General Mohammed Farah Aideed of the Somali National Alliance (USC/SNA), Tuur claimed leadership of a supposedly reinstated SNM (which in reality did not exist). In April 1994 in Addis Ababa Tuur declared, “the SNM accepts to withdraw its unilateral declaration of independence,” on condition that Somaliland be given “special status” in a reunited Somalia. As a result, an angry crowd in Hargeysa attacked and ransacked the offfĳices of UNOSOM II and the American NGO CARE.24 In August of the same year, Tuur turned up in Mogadishu for yet another meeting with Aideed, still putting himself forward as “Chairman of the SNM.” On that occasion, both declared their opposition to “dismemberment and disunity” of the Somali people.25 More meetings followed. By September 1994, however, it became clear that UNOSOM II had employed debatable means in order to muster support among the various Somali factions for its “peace process” and “national reconstruction.” At a meeting in Djibouti of the leaders of four northern factions (Tuur’s side of the SNM, together with the Somali Democratic Alliance26, United Somali Front27 and United Somali Party28) trying to get back onto the Mogadishu scene, a member of Tuur’s entourage revealed a letter from UNOSOM II pledging 200,000 USD for “logistical expenses” in support of SNM’s participation in the UNOSOM “peace process.” This fĳinancial support was later confĳirmed offfĳicially by Ambassador Ataul Karim, the head of UNOSOM II’s political offfĳice. Similar deals were struck between UNOSOM II and other individuals within the diffferent militias and factions.29 Apart from getting political actors with doubtful legitimacy to buy into the ‘peace process,’ UNOSOM II deliberately misread the actual situation in its apparently heavily politicised reporting. The report by the Secretary- General on the situation in Somalia of 17 September 1994 stated that the meeting of faction leaders mentioned above had resulted in a statement

24 Indian Ocean Newsletter 07/05/1994. 25 Indian Ocean Newsletter 10/09/1994. 26 The Somali Democratic Alliance (SDA), referred to in chapter 3, the Gadabursi political and militia ‘umbrella,’ split in two factions after the Somaliland declaration of independence. While one faction reconciled with the SNM and subscribed to the Somaliland project, another faction—partly based in the Gadabursi London Diaspora, part in the Somali region of Ethiopia, remained hostile to the secession (Prunier 1995). 27 The United Somali Front (USF) was a clan-based faction of the ‘Iise which were a minority clan in Awdal region of Somaliland, but also the clan of the Djibouti president. The USF offfĳicially opposed the secession of Somaliland. 28 Darod-based party originally founded in the 1950s, re-emerged after the fall of the Barre regime. 29 Somalia News Update 14/09/1994. 126 chapter five declaring “that the secession of the north was neither feasible nor desira- ble and that the national reconciliation conference … was long overdue and should be convened no later than September 1994.”30 The statement also proposed the adoption of a federal system of government for Somalia and conveyed an offfer by the four factions to use their good offfĳices to mediate between the factions in the south.31 Yet, such statements were extremely misleading, falsely implying broad support in Somaliland for revoking the independence and joining with the south. Representation at the conference by mostly diaspora-based factions was highly questiona- ble, a fact of which UNOSOM II was also well aware. Moreover, its political offfĳicers knew for a fact that Tuur had almost no constituency in Somaliland.32 Instead of supporting peace processes on the ground, UNOSOM II thus chose to interfere with them and to corrupt them, where possible, in order to achieve its own vaguely defĳined political goals. Recognition of Somaliland’s self-proclaimed independence may—for various reasons— not have been possible or indeed feasible at that particular point in time.33 The United Nations would not have been in a position to press Somali- land independence upon its members, since neither the Organisation for African Unity nor the Arab League was inclined to endorse international recognition of Somaliland’s independence.34 Yet, whatever the reasons behind the decision not to endorse Somaliland independence, these reasons did not justify UNOSOM’s moves to undermine local political developments potentially leading to a viable polity.

B. The Airport War

Despite the lack of international support, Egal succeeded in resolving the demobilisation deadlock. Through his clan channels, the new president was able to start incorporating a considerable number of clan militias into the Somaliland National Army and bringing their arms under government

30 United Nations Security Council, Report by the Secretary-General concerning the situation in Somalia, par. 14. 31 United Nations Security Council, Report by the Secretary-General concerning the situation in Somalia, par. 14. 32 Somalia News Update 11/09/1994. 33 One could argue that a sudden rise of the stakes in winning government of the new recognised state (with all the promises of bilateral fĳinancial aid and other symbolic and real capital deriving from statehood) could have caused internal tension beyond breaking point. 34 See Indian Ocean Newsletter 16/09/1994. “at the centre of peace and war” 127 control. While initially all went smoothly and Egal apparently enjoyed support of the overwhelming majority of clan elders and politicians, a clash with a militia at Hargeysa airport went awry. The incident developed into a full-blown armed conflict between Egal and a multi-faceted opposition. This episode clearly reveals how political actors engaged with the various spheres and elements of Somaliland’s hybrid political order. As we will see, both Egal, supported by his government coalition of clans, and the intertwined parts of the opposition drew upon and manipulated the institutions and discourses of the state as well as those related to the realm of clan.

2.1. Habar Awal Cash for Militia Demobilization By late 1993 president Egal was still trying to get clan the militias demobi- lized or under state control. Lacking aid from outside (from the UN or bilateral channels), Egal achieved fĳinancing by means of his Habar Awal clan connections. A small freelance militia group, however, refused to give up the airport, thereby jeopardizing Egal’s commitments to his fĳinan- ciers. Egal stated that the airport was public property, controlled by the state, and that the militia had to leave. Eventually, treading extremely carefully and after extensive consultations with the elders, Egal had the Somaliland military rout the militias from the airport. Egal succeeded where Tuur had failed. He (at least provisionally) solved the Somaliland government’s cash problem when he requested and received a loan of 3 million USD from Somaliland businessmen based in Djibouti to cover the costs of militia salaries and rations for one year.35 The group of businessmen Egal called upon for help was very small: 10 larger traders, some of whom had operated for a long time in the Somal- iland market for foodstufffs, cigarette imports and hide and skin exports. Others had joined the trade after the Borama Conference in 1993. Except for two traders, they were all Habar Awal, like Egal himself. In return for the loan, the traders were entitled to tax-free imports into Somaliland (Marchal 1996: 75). Egal was able to offfer the tax break because the government controlled the port of Berbera, through which the goods were shipped and managed by Egal’s own Habar Awal/Issa Musa clansmen. To be sure, Issa Musa compliance with the central government’s control was

35 Musa Bihe, interview, Hargeysa 30/06/2002. Sources vary, however: according to Le Sage (2003) the sum was 7 million USD According to SAPD (2002a)—citing the former Accountant General, it was 6 million USD. 128 chapter five not entirely free or based on clan loyalty alone. Allegedly, the Issa Musa took a levy of 25% on all taxes paid on port activities.36 Egal made quick progress. In February 1994, the Somaliland National Demobilisation Commission (NDC), assisted by a United Nations Devel- opment Programme (UNDP) advisory team,37 reported that the disarmament of heavy weapons units had commenced in Hargeysa, on a voluntary basis. To avoid any groups feeling disadvantaged, unsafe or at the mercy of the central government because of the handover, the assembled weapons were to be held under control of the central authorities and the local elders by utilising a two key system so that their removal or use could only be authorised by both parties.38 The NDC team was also assigned the task of registering the 25,000 militiamen and demobilised SNM veterans living in Somaliland by April 1994. The disarmament of the SNM 4th Brigade was reported to be completed during March 1994. The 12th Brigade, which had been occupying the Hargeysa-Berbera road, brought its technicals and heavy weapons, to an assembly point in Hargeysa. Subsequently, negotiations began for fĳinal disarmament. The 99th (Gabiley), 6th (Hargeysa) and 11th Brigades demobilised and disarmed under similar arrangements.39 Bryden (1994d: 35), observing the process, described the handover of the 11th Brigade’s weap- onry as a peaceful, quiet and even festive occasion. Held in Hargeysa stadium, the ceremony was witnessed by thousands of people, listening to speeches and enjoying the return to normalcy and the end of the war. Demobilisation and disarmament of a group of ‘Idagalle militia of the former SNM 3rd Brigade (the so-called Kood Buur and Saddexaad military units) was more complicated. The militia, led by General Jama Ghalib (a former police general and ex-Interior Minister under Barre), was in control of Hargeysa Airport. The group had established itself as an independent authority, demanding departure and landing fees from passengers using the airport. Aircraft not complying with their regulations were occasionally shot at, while foreign visitors, such as the stafff of international organisations and NGOs, as well as Somali civilians, were regularly harassed. ‘Idagalle control over the airport enjoyed at least the passive sympathy of ‘Idagalle clansmen, who felt marginalised under the new

36 Indian Ocean Newsletter 22/10/1994. 37 Although there was a political conflict with the political offfĳice of UNOSOM, the UN agencies and the Somaliland administration managed to work together quite well. The Somaliland bitterness only extended to UNOSOM. 38 Horn of Africa Bulletin 3/1994. 39 Horn of Africa Bulletin 3/1994. “at the centre of peace and war” 129 government. Egal was aware of this and therefore swallowed his frustra- tion over the ‘Idagalle militia presence and the lack of government control at the airport. He did not want to risk a hostile response on the part of the ‘Idagalle or, even worse, the entire Garhajis clan, should he move to take the airport by force (Bryden 1994b). Consequently, the militia stayed at the airport extorting fees from passengers and harassing them, to the great embarrassment of the government, which was claiming to be in control of a “proper” state deserving of international recognition. Commercial importers of goods from Djibouti, including many Habar Awal traders who fĳinanced Egal, lobbied him to create safe passage into Somaliland. As a result, the administration reopened an old airstrip at Kalabaydh between Gabiley and Togwajaale. Although aircraft began to avoid Hargeysa and revenue from extortion started to dip, the militia refused to negotiate. Egal’s position was further strengthened, moreover, by the fact that Habar Yunis and ‘Idagalle elders fĳinally decided to take up their seats in Parliament in August 1994 after more than a year of absten- tion. Three Garhajis ministers were added to the government and Garhajis soldiers were incorporated into the Somaliland National Army. A delegation of ‘Idagalle elders who had offfered to mediate between the administration and the militia met with a very hostile reception by their clansmen at the airport. Some of the elders were badly beaten by the militia. On their return, the ‘Idagalle elders decided to disown the airport militia as their clansmen, reducing them to outcasts of their clan. The militia, for their part, accused the elders of “selling offf their clan.”40 In August, 1994, Radio Hargeysa announced that the Egal administration had decided to close the airport “for security reasons.” It was clearly an attempt to deprive the militia troops of their income, without having to resort to violence. Government broadcaster Radio Hargeysa announced that aircraft should use Berbera, Borama or Kalabaydh airports instead, and any aircraft defying these directives would receive no help if they landed in Hargeysa.41 Surrounded by government troops and politically orphaned by their clans, the militia was now almost entirely isolated. The only remaining support was a slender link with Abdirahman Tuur and a few associated political and business fĳigures, who provided the soldiers’ essential needs, such as qaad, cash and crude alcohol (Bryden 1994a). UNOSOM reports, however, suggested that the militia at the airport were

40 Matt Bryden, interview, Hargeysa 18/03/2003. See also Bryden 1994a. 41 Horn of Africa Bulletin 5/1994. 130 chapter five

Tuur’s “opposition forces” who enjoyed support of Tuur and his Garhajis clan in their resistance against secession, an image Tuur himself took great care to nurture (Bryden 1994b). Several weeks following the airport embargo which had little efffect, the administration, now enhanced with Garhajis political participation, took the airport by force with the blessing of the ‘Idagalle elders. In a letter of support to the president, the sultaan of the ‘Idagalle wrote that although the group at the airport were children of his clan, they were now disowned and declared outlaws. Neither the clan nor its elders would oppose any form of government action directed against them.42 By mid-October government armed forces moved in. The ‘Idagalle militia responded by trying to fend offf the attackers using their small arms and moving to block the road to Berbera. Government forces quickly succeeded in driving them out, after which the militia fled into the mountains. Reportedly, the clash between the government and the 300-strong militia left a dozen or so dead or wounded.43 Although the military confrontation was not huge and was simply an operation directed against freelance bandits who were not obviously supported by anyone, the fallout from the incident would prove far more serious and complex than anticipated, for, the ‘Idagalle militia was routed but not defeated.

2.2. The Airport Militia: From Freelance Bandits to a Clan-Based Armed Force By November 1994 fĳighting erupted again in Hargeysa. Having regrouped some fĳifty kilometres outside the city, close to the Ethiopian border, the airport militia rebounded, with incursions into neighbouring areas. The government responded by attacking the camp set up by the militia near the village of Toon, capturing the ordinance, fourteen artillery pieces and two trucks. This time, the fleeing militiamen were pursued by government forces until they reached Hargeysa, where, according to a government report, they attempted to rob a bank and opened fĳire on a crowd at a busy market. An exchange of fĳire between government forces and the militia resulted in a few dozens of civilian casualties,44 probably mainly Habar Awal, who were the principal occupants of the market (Bryden 1994b). After the attack the militia retreated into the mainly ‘Idagalle-populated Dumbulug area of southeastern Hargeysa, from which they launched hit

42 Somalia News Update 14/09/1994; Indian Ocean Newsletter 22/10/1994. 43 Horn of Africa Bulletin 5/1994; Indian Ocean Newsletter 22/10/1994. 44 See Reuters report in Horn of Africa Bulletin 4/1994. “at the centre of peace and war” 131 and run raids upon adjacent parts of the city (Bryden 1994b). Several other clashes followed, and Hargeysa was repeatedly shelled from the airport area during the last two weeks of November 1994. While government forces—including rearmed irregular clan forces loyal to Egal—kept hunt- ing down the militia, the latter were reportedly given some support by local Hargeysa communities.45 The conflict gradually escalated. The government military consisted of a multi-clan regular Somaliland National Army unit of about 500 men, reinforced by a number of ex-SNM militia units. The latter were drawn primarily from the Habar Awal/Saad Muse, the largest and wealthiest sector of the Hargeysa population, as well as the fĳinancial backbone of the Egal administration. The ‘Idagalle militia, on the other hand, were joined by their kinsmen from the Somaliland National Army and the police, many of whom had defected because they refused to fĳight their fellow ‘Idagalle at the battle over Toon. Some members of a Habar Yunis subclan, closely related to the ‘Idagalle militia, joined in as well, raising concerns that soon all Garhajis clans would be involved in the war. Both the Habar Awal and the Garhajis leaders started to mobilise manpower and resources in preparation for an all-out war. Apparently Egal was not entirely in control of the Habar Awal clan militia, since, despite his appeals for calm, a number of Habar Awal ex-SNM colonels returned to active service on their own initiative, a circumstance which contributed to the rising tension (Bryden 1994b, 1994c). Understandably, Reuters reported that a clash had erupted between “Habar Awal militias of the unrecognised republic’s ‘president’ Moham- med Ibrahim Egal and the Habar Yunis fĳighters of his arch-rival Abdirah- man Tuur.”46 Egal immediately responded via Radio Hargeysa, saying that the violence was not inter-clan fĳighting, but “fĳighting imposed to threaten the country’s nationhood by making the country ungovernable like the one ruled by the Aideed regime.”47 An incident that had started as a confrontation between the government and some freelance “bandits” had escalated into a high profĳile political issue, enhanced by important clan implications. Almost immediately the dynamic of the dispute seemed radically altered “as public opinion on both sides was jolted out of an essentially passive detached perception of events, into subjective and emotive interpretation of developments” (Bryden and Farah s.d.: 11.)

45 Somali News Update 22/11/1994 and 01/12/1994. 46 Reuters report in Horn of Africa Bulletin 4/1994. 47 Radio Hargeysa, as cited in Horn of Africa Bulletin 6/1994. 132 chapter five

The militia forces at the airport have been described as “outlaws,” “clan militia” and “opposition forces.” These distinctions, in fact, illustrate dif- ferent interpretations both of the conflict by the actors and of the root causes and triggers of conflict. While the Egal administration denounced the ‘Idagalle militia as mere outlaws and bandits, Tuur and his associates appropriated and used the airport incident to try to bring down the Egal administration. As clan sentiments mounted after the attack on Toon, Tuur usefully exploited the clan card to further his ambitions as a member of Aideed’s government, in which he and his associate Jama Moham- med Qaalib (‘Idagalle) held important positions.48 He was supported in these ambitions by UNOSOM, which considered a unifĳied Somalia (however distant a prospect that was) more important than anything else. Tuur and his associates put forward two main political grievances as justifĳication for the war against Egal–and both played on clan sentiments. First and foremost, the Garhajis claimed not to be properly represented in the government when compared to the Habar Awal (a claim which dated back as far as the distribution of clan representatives in the SNM committees). Second, (also connected with the SNM political inheritance), Egal was accused of deliberately favouring the SNM “military faction” (the Alan As) in his government appointments, because the Alan As was held responsible for the downfall of the fĳirst Somaliland administration under a Garhajis president, Abdirahman Tuur (Bryden and Farah s.d.: 11). These clan-based political grievances helped Tuur (Habar Yunis) and his associate Jama Mohammed Qaalib overcome the indiffference of their clansmen regarding their (opportunistically motivated) ‘Somalia unity’ cause. The Habar Garhajis had a grudge against the Egal government and its Habar Awal fĳinancial backing because of their close interdependence.

2.3. Habar Garhajis’ Economic and Political Grievances Against the Habar Awal Since the time of the British Protectorate, the Habar Garhajis had been active in the livestock trade. The Habar Awal/Saad Muse, on the other hand, had been traditionally very active in the import trade and had a strong base of retailers, shopkeepers and brokers. These businessmen mostly relied on people of their own lineage as their associates or

48 ‘Tuur’ was one of the vice presidents, Jama Mahamed Qaalib was minister of Foreign Afffairs. “at the centre of peace and war” 133 subcontractors (Lewis 1994b: 113, 132). According to Marchal (1996: 77), the insecurity and the ever-pressing need for hard currency, which worsened during the civil war against Barre, only reinforced this behaviour. To counter insecurity, the big Habar Awal traders operating from Djibouti employed people who were close to them in lineage to oversee their ware- houses, shops and trucks in Somaliland. Wholesalers and shopkeepers from lineages close to the importer would receive commodities on a credit basis and pay him back once the goods were sold. Others had to pay cash. Trade networks among importers were thus based on lineage. As the need for hard currency increased, other trades, such as in livestock, became integrated into import and export, thus displacing traditional players in the market. The Habar Awal therefore increased their share of the livestock trade and became integrated with the importation of foodstufffs; livestock was bartered with commodities instead of payment in cash. Harti Sheikh in Ethiopia was one of the most important markets for the livestock trade, and it ‘belonged’ to the Habar Awal. In Saudi Arabia, the Habar Awal traders were paid in hard currency, which they used to buy foodstufffs to barter with the nomads back in Somaliland or Ethiopia. As a result, the Garhajis traders, who had previously dominated the livestock business, became isolated, while Habar Awal newcomers were able to enter the market with the capital of the Habar Awal business tycoons. Furthermore, the tycoons enjoyed tax breaks and had far better access to bribery as they had incomparable leverage at the offfĳice of the president (Marchal 1996: 79). Not surprisingly, the early years of the Egal regime saw an unprecedented trade boom in the Berbera-Hargeysa-Ethiopia axis. Until the Djibouti government closed the border,49 most imported goods had come through Djibouti, and then were trucked to Hargeysa or Ethiopia. Traders, shipping their goods to Berbera for import into Somaliland and Ethiopia, created increased shipping trafffĳic.50 Reportedly (although apparently wildly exaggerated) as much as 50% of Ethiopian trade passed through Berbera, because of the lack of competition from Mogadishu and Bossaso (northeast Somalia), and even Djibouti which proved too expensive and unreliable. Livestock export fĳigures soared as well.51

49 There were sporadic clashes between ‘Iise and Isaaq clansmen along the Somaliland (Isaaq-dominated)-Djibouti (‘Iise dominated) border (UNDP/EUE1995). 50 Somalia News Update 26/06/1994. 51 Somalia News Update 26/06/1994; Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/1995. 134 chapter five

Harti Sheikh in Ethiopia was not only an important livestock market but also the site of the largest United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) refugee camp mainly populated by Habar Awal. In contrast to their poorer kinsmen in the camps, well-to-do Hargeysa-based Habar Awal businessmen had repatriated to Hargeysa as soon as the SNM took power. Many maintained a branch of their business in Harti Sheikh to avoid the risk of moving all their assets to Somaliland, as well as to profĳit from local market opportunities. Commodities available at Harti Sheikh were relatively cheap and competitive because of the extremely low tax rate. Traders enjoyed the tax break in Berbera, and the transitional Ethiopian government left the border trade free. With this informal tax-haven status, Harti Sheikh became a commercial centre, a livestock market and a fĳinancial hub for the region, where Somali currencies, Ethiopian birr and American dollars were freely exchanged (Marchal 1996: 73).52 Somali currencies were yet another bone of contention. In September 1994 the Somaliland parliament endorsed President Egal’s introduction of a new currency to replace the Somali shilling. A National Bank was set up, and the new currency, the Somaliland shilling, was launched at the rate of 50 Somaliland Shillings to the US dollar. Offfĳicially, the Somali shilling ceased to be legal tender at the end of January 1995.53 New notes, printed abroad, started circulating in Somaliland and gained acceptability, although this was not the case in all areas of Somaliland. Presumably its use was in practice restricted to Berbera, Hargeysa, Borama and along the route to Harti Sheikh. In any case, the Somaliland shilling was not used eastward beyond Bur’o. There, transactions happened in Somali shillings.54 At the time of introduction, one Somaliland shilling was worth 100 old Somali shillings.55 The Somaliland government recalled the old Somali shillings, but did not destroy them. Instead, they were sold at a cheap rate to big traders, mostly of the Habar Awal clan. The purchasers of the old notes paid Egal in dollars, and put them back into circulation in the regions of Somalia where they were still legal tender. The introduction of the Somaliland shilling was highly profĳitable for the Habar Awal traders, as well as for Egal. Habar Awal businessmen who

52 See also chapter 5 (The case of the Peace Committee for Somaliland: diaspora initiative at resolving the second round of conflict in Somaliland, 1994–1996) in Farah A.Y. (s.d.). 53 Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/1995. 54 When visiting Bur’o in 2002 and 2003 I found that indeed it was possible to exchange Somaliland Shillings for Somali Shillings in Bur’o, but only indirectly, via the US Dollar. 55 Africa Confĳidential 31/03/1995. “at the centre of peace and war” 135 helped Egal foot the bill for printing the new currency at a cost of 1.4 million USD received considerable return for their investment. They were able to recoup a signifĳicant percentage of their loan through arbi- trage, even before the loan was actually paid back. Moreover the hard dollars Egal got in return for the old Somali shillings helped him to fĳinance the war against the militia, which, as he claimed, had cost him three million US dollars by the end of January 1995. The windfall profĳit from the introduction of the wildly overvalued Somaliland shilling for the fĳirst time gave the Egal administration some real resources to spend. In combination with the revenue from Berbera port and the tax on qaad, the Egal government was fĳinancially much better offf than had ever been the case for the Tuur government. Taxation systems had been started in some municipalities as well, but, although symbolically very important, this was presumably not a major source of revenue (Africa Confĳidential 31/03/1995; Le Sage s.d.).56 According to De Waal (1996), the introduction of the Somaliland currency was the spark for what would develop into a new civil war. The Republic of Somaliland was in fact a profĳit-sharing agreement among the dominant (Habar Awal) traders, “with a constitution appended.” Others point to the importance of other elements outside the political economy to account for in the escalation of the war. Bryden and Farah (s.d.), con- tend that what really motivated support for the Garhajis opposition was not just economics but also the politics of clan pride. The introduction of the Somaliland shilling was such a contentious issue because the Garhajis opposition considered it to be “Egal money.” In their view, the whole story was about Habar Awal supremacy, a conspiracy between Egal and the big Habar Awal traders to take over Somaliland. Egal’s geographical power base was mockingly called subeeriyya, referring to the president’s Subeer- Awal lineage. The perceived bids for Habar Awal political and economic supremacy were deeply resented by the Garhajis/Habar Yunis.57

56 See ‘Hargeysa municipality starts collecting taxes’ as broadcast by Radio Hargeysa on 21/03/1994 (BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, 04/04/1994). 57 Over time, ‘Habar Awal’ and ‘Garhajis’ developed into distinct stereotypes of self and other. Whereas the Habar Awal always had a dominant position in trade, the Garhajis had been important in government. One Habar Garhajis/Habar Yunis director general, when I interviewed him in Hargeysa, recalled: “The Habar Yunis were leading under British colonial rule: they were the cadres of the administration. All the directors and administrators used to be Habar Yunis, because the British authorities preferred them over other clans as they were the most capable and experienced. After the end of the protectorate it was the Habar Awal who took over. All Habar Yunis resigned, because they were against unifĳication with southern Somalia. They expected a pension from the 136 chapter five

2.4. A Phony War Dragging on and Fizzling Out The Habar Yunis’ feelings of marginalization, both economically and politically, turned them against Egal’s government. But it did not automatically make them supporters of Tuur and his Mogadishu agenda, even if Tuur was a Habar Yunis and fully played that card. President Egal succeeded in pounding home the message that the war was a political war, rather than a clan-based war. The fact that genuine Habar Yunis clan grievances about political representation and economic marginalization became intertwined with Tuur’s UNOSOM-connected political ambitions helped make it easier for Egal to prove that point. So did the fact that Egal’s multi-clan coalition stood fĳirm and was even joined by some sections of the Habar Yunis. Egal’s ability to convince people at the time of peacemaking that the war was not a clan war, allowed the state (rather than the clan elders) to play the main role in the peacemaking process. Both the Habar Yunis and the ‘Idagalle had been dissatisfĳied with the outcome of the 1993 Borama Conference. Both clans, but particularly the Habar Yunis, felt they had lost out in the presidential election, as well as in the composition of the parliament. The major clans (Gadabursi, Habar Ja’lo, Dhulbahante and Habar Awal) were assigned ten seats each; the Garhajis were also given ten seats.58 Both Garhajis clans (Habar Yunis and ‘Idagalle) claimed that they were entitled to more. The Habar Yunis argued that they should at least have been treated equally to the Habar Awal and the Habar Ja’lo and not be lumped together with the ‘Idagalle.

Empire, but it never came. Nevertheless, the Habar Yunis supported Egal in the fĳirst civilian regime (until the coup), as his mother was Habar Yunis, too.” (interview Abdirahman Mahamed Ajib, interview, Hargeysa 18/03/03) The Habar Yunis fĳighting Egal saw themselves as entitled to a leading role in the sphere of governance, in compensation for the commercially dominant position of the Habar Awal. Yet now the Habar Awal had played a crucial role in the downfall of the Habar Yunis’ Tuur administration, and they had moved to a crucial politico-economic position in the Somaliland polity, completely marginalising the Habar Yunis. 58 The Warsengeli and the ‘Iisse got fĳive seats each, smaller Isaaq clans were given the following number of seats: Arap (6), Ayub (2), Imrain (3), Sambur (2), Tol Ja’lo (2). There had been a discussion at Borama Conference as to how to distribute the seats. The eventual outcome was considered the worst possible scenario for the Habar Yunis and the ‘Idagalle. It would have been far more advantageous for them if any of the other debated possibilities had been chosen, such as seat allocation on a regional basis, use population fĳigures or use the 1960 constituencies. A regional division would have been better for the Habar Yunis as they had signifĳicant population strength around Berbera (Musa Abdullah), Erigavo (Musa Ismail), Hargeysa (Isahaaq) and Bur’o (Saguelleh Hersi, Ainanshe Hersi and others) (Gilkes 1995: 10). “at the centre of peace and war” 137

It was, however, the presidential election that dealt a fatal blow to the Habar Yunis’ participation in Somaliland’s institutions. When Tuur was removed and Egal appointed, the Habar Yunis politicians pulled out. During a clan conference in Bur’o in July 1993, known as Liibaan I, the Habar Yunis agreed not to recognise Egal’s government or take part in it. The Habar Yunis (and Warsengeli) ministers refused to take their seats, although the conference voiced no opposition to the existence of Somal- iland as such (Gilkes 1995: 8). In the Autumn of the same year, however, Tuur committed himself to the Mogadishu political scenario, disowning Somaliland’s claims to independence and statehood. Tuur won the support of UNOSOM II, but, despite his effforts, initially failed to muster real support among his own clansmen. Eventually he succeeded in winning support only of the Habar Yunis present at the Liibaan II Conference held in Bur’o in July 1994. In contrast to the former Habar Yunis conference, Liibaan II resulted in a conference declaration apparently supporting Tuur’s claims to the SNM legacy and the need to associate Somaliland with Somalia. These references to Somali federalism, however, had been pushed by a few of Tuur’s political allies. As a result of the obvious political hijacking, many Habar Yunis subclans did not recognise the Liibaan II as a proper clan conference. Moreover, the political platform it issued was not endorsed by the Habar Yunis’ chief allies, the ‘Idagalle. In addition, important sections of the Habar Yunis themselves ignored it or even rejected it. The clan was divided further as Liibaan II decided not to recognise those Habar Yunis who in August 1994 had taken up seats in the Somaliland parliament as representatives of the clan. The move shook the political alliance with the ‘Idagalle, as their MPs continued to enjoy the clan mandate (Gilkes 1995: 10). Thus, Tuur’s political strategy and actions had opened sharp rifts between the diffferent Garhajis subclans: between the ‘Idagalle and the Habar Yunis and within the Habar Yunis itself (Bryden and Farah s.d.). Despite the airport war in which the ‘Idagalle and some sections of the Habar Yunis supported the airport militia rather than the government, Egal managed in December 1994 to win over a group of 12 Habar Yunis subclans, who handed over their weapons to the government. In February 1995 the government-side of the Habar Yunis got a further boost: after a 25-day meeting of elders, a section of the Habar Yunis subclan which previously caused trouble along the Hargeysa-Berbera road reached a settlement with Egal as well. Other Habar Yunis clans were also talking to Egal before the end of Ramadan (Gilkes 1995: 8; Africa Confĳidential 31/03/1995). 138 chapter five

Throughout the government’s conflict with the ‘Idagalle militia and the Habar Yunis, Egal kept the support of the non-Garhajis clans. Soldiers of these (notably Arap, Habar Ja’lo as well as Gadabursi) still served in the government armed forces, and institutions such as the House of Representatives and the Guurti, although they were not able to do much, did not collapse. Moreover, the president was widely supported by the population, fearful of a return to the pre-1993 violence and chaos (Bryden and Farah s.d.). As Egal, with a strengthened government coalition set out to take control over checkpoints around Bur’o in March 1995, a Bur’o Habar Yunis conference called for an all-out war against Egal (Bradbury 2008: 117). Major fĳighting, albeit shortlived, erupted between the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo. Habar Yunis forces attacked government-aligned Habar Ja’lo forces in town. As the fĳighting was confĳined to the town itself, a fresh exodus of refugees fled to the adjacent countryside just outside Bur’o. The Habar Yunis took refuge with their clansmen in the countryside (to Odweyne, Eel Humme, and Haahi, as well as Gashaamo and Daroor in Ethiopia). The Habar Ja’lo fled to their rural clansmen in Yirowe, Beer, Qoriyaale and Aynabo (Bryden 1995b). Indeed, the Habar Ja’lo refugee settlement just outside Bur’o, at Yirowe, would develop its own dynamic as a booming new market town. It was not entirely clear who was leading the fĳighting units in the battles between Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo militias. Though both were led by local military commanders, there was no overarching Habar Yunis or Garhajis command. Tuur was in Mogadishu; his closest associates were absent as well. The war seemed to be directed by Garhajis war committees, with an unclear status and mandate. The war dragged on, causing a lot of human sufffering, death and destruction, but it was not actually going anywhere, since neither of the two sides was making substantial progress towards its military goals. Units on both sides were fĳighting SNM style, more or less at their own discretion. When a military commander would get an order that was unfeasible in his judgement and that of his men, he would just fĳind something else to do and ignore the order.59 By May 1995 fĳighting in Bur’o lapsed into a stalemate barely a month after it had started, despite extravagant claims of conquest from both sides. The battlefront south of Hargeysa had also quieted down to a level of near total inactivity. Despite the warmongering of politicians and

59 Interview Matt Bryden, Bur’o 06/04/2003. “at the centre of peace and war” 139

military leaders, the he conflict had not reached the scale of an all out war, with relatively little remobilization of civilians on either side. In rural areas members of opposing clans (such as the Arap and the ‘Idagalle and the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo respectively) coexisted with each other peacefully, albeit uneasily. According to Bryden (1995b) and others interviewed by me in Bur’o and Hargeysa, many people saw the conflict as a political war between national political groups competing for power rather than as a clan conflict. Yet, the government side did not defeat the opposition; nor could the opposition weaken the government side to the extent that it ever came close to collapse. Tuur and his associates were not able to convince their clansmen of the unionist/federalist cause. Although they did manage to stir up opposition against Egal, they were never able to convince the entire Garhajis clan to seek union with the south. The majority of them opposed the Egal government and were very keen on removing him, but remained Somaliland nationalists, critical of Tuur and his federalists. The Garhajis population viewed the federalist group as inimical to their interests and only supported them in general terms, inasmuch as they also wanted to get rid of Egal. The Garhajis military record was also not impressive, their only achievement was to empty Bur’o of its inhabitants, a move that created major problems and sufffering for the resident Garhajis population (Bryden 1995b). However, they were never fully defeated militarily. The standofff between the Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo militias in Bur’o was one episode in a conflict that was much more than a quarrel between two clans. At least three (shifting conflict parties were in conflict: (1) Egal’s enlarged government coalition, consisting of non-Garhajis plus the Habar Yunis and ‘Idagalle on the side of the government; (2) the pro-Somaliland opposition, i.e. the Habar Yunis who were against Egal and wanted better political and economic representation but supported the idea of Somaliland state; (3) the Habar Yunis who supported Tuur’s federalist cause. The last two parties to the conflict were not always readily distin- guishable. The two groups and their objectives had become intertwined. Although the majority of the Garhajis had no interest in the pursuit of a federal Somalia, their opposition against the Egal government made them natural and objective allies of the federalist forces. Furthermore, the federalist forces drew their militia exclusively from the Garhajis-Garhajis clan militia and Garhajis federalist militia often fought side by side; sometimes they even overlapped. It made it difffĳicult for the Egal government to determine its counterparts in any peace negotiation (Bryden 1995b). But at the same time the multiple layers of the conflict and the fĳighting parties 140 chapter five provided Egal with the opportunity to set the terms for peace-making, steering away from clan-controlled processes and increasingly bringing peace and political negotiations under control of the increasingly powerful Presidency, which during the war had become the driving force behind the consolidation of state power in Somaliland.

C. Regime Consolidation via War … and ‘Traditional’ Peace Making

3.1. Expanding Presidential Control During the stalemate in Bur’o the situation in Somaliland overall was fairly stable. The state and its institutions were operational though limited. The crisis even allowed Egal to consolidate control over politics, governance and institutions, both nationally and locally. He used the state of emergency to appoint local governors to displace local elders and guurtis and bring local levels under government control. Once institutionalised as part of the government, the Guurti lost its neutrality and ability to initiate ‘depoliticised’ clan-based peacemaking. In contrast to the fĳirst round of violence in 1991–1992 which fatally destroyed the Tuur government, the Egal government was not signifĳi- cantly weakened by the war. As we have seen, its position was even strengthened. The coalition of clans that made up the state held together. As Bryden has noted, this coalition roughly comprising the Habar Awal, Gadabursi, Habar Ja’lo and Arap clans, together with elements of the Dhulbahante, Warsengeli and ‘Iisse, has held together “with extraordinary coherence and cohesiveness” (Bryden 1995b), because of the government’s ability to pay its soldiers, secretaries, civil servants, parliamentarians and Guurti members. The bulk of this revenue came from customs duties, levied in government-controlled areas (the east of the country was not included). Other forms of taxation were almost non-existant (Gilkes 1995: 23). There was a degree of meaningful public administration with an improved performance by the civil service. Security was assured by disciplined, uniformed units of police and military. Areas under government control were fairly secure, calm and stable. Commerce had recovered from the initial shock of the war; goods were imported to Hargeysa re-exported to Ethiopia, Sudan and Kenya. In fact, notes Bryden (1995b), the Egal administration was more developed than Ethiopian Region 5 as far as administration and government were concerned. Most ministries “at the centre of peace and war” 141 kept functioning throughout the fĳighting, albeit without their ‘Idagalle or Habar Yunis stafff, who had left or fled. A variety of training programmes functioned under international agencies (including UNICEF Ministry of Information seminar and a training programme for customs offfĳicers at Berbera in mid 1993). New tarifffs were drawn up for Berbera and other ports in September 1993. Cars in Hargeysa were registered, and licence plates were issued. Reportedly, regional and district courts were operating in March 1994. In Hargeysa unlicensed traders were banned, the central and other markets were cleaned up, and illegal house construction was banned by the municipality (Gilkes 1995: 21). This said, central government control was far from all-encompassing. Municipal authorities largely escaped government control, although mayors were offfĳicially appointed and sacked by the president. Like the national government, local governments had started taxation systems, with the revenue kept under their own control. Local governments taxed goods entering their jurisdiction (including transit goods) using road checkpoints. Mayors and their executive committees set local taxes according to their needs, hired and fĳired stafff, printed and issued the documents. Municipalities were not accountable to any higher administrative level: but collected and expended revenue at their own discretion. Until 1996 no municipal authority had ever submitted a fĳinancial statement (Gilkes 1995: 23).60 Egal used the argument of the ongoing war to push through contested regional level administrations, overriding the resistance of local elders against centrally appointed governors and centrally-determined policies. Parliament hesitantly authorised the government, to appoint regional governors “as long as they had the support of local authorities.” Egal however, pushed through local appointments with little or no local consultation. In October 1994 he appointed administrators for Togdheer and Sool regions, making it clear that he intended “to extend the state’s administration over the whole country” (Gilkes 1995: 23). After the declaration of the state of emergency in December 1994, reluctantly endorsed by the Guurti, Egal sent various ministers as emergency governors to a number of regions and towns, including Zeila’ and Bur’o. The Awdal administrator was also given the specifĳic tasks of restructuring the administration of the region and disarming the militia and

60 This multiple taxation led to higher prices of goods and loss of central government revenue as commerce was rerouted from Somaliland’s main ports of entry to neighbouring ports (such as Bossaso). Trafffĳicking in contraband increased too. 142 chapter five integrating the fĳighters into the national army.61 The Minister of Education, Suleiman Gaal, who had a reputation as a hardliner, was appointed as governor of Bur’o, where tension between Gaal’s own clan, the Habar Ja’lo, and the Habar Yunis had been high for months. According to Gilkes, Gaal’s’ appointment contributed to the outbreak of the aforementioned conflict in Bur’o in March 1995, which suggests that the appointment had been a conscious strategic move by the president (Gilkes 1995: 23). The outbreak of the 1995 fĳighting in Bur’o consolidated Egal’s position even further. Pointing to the severity of the fĳighting, Egal convinced the Guurti to extend his 2-year presidential mandate, which was about to expire in May 1995. At the Borama Conference it had been agreed that during the 2-year presidential mandate appropriate arrangements for elections would be made. Yet the war and the ensuing emergency situation had of course stalled that process, because the government and Parliament allegedly had more important issues to deal with. Egal originally protested that he did not want a second term of offfĳice, but by early 1995 he suggested that he had to see the Garhajis problem, which had arisen during his term, through to the end. It was unclear, however, to what extent this would be acceptable to the elders of the Guurti. Egal had been particularly careful to consult them at almost every stage of the conflict both with the ‘Idagalle militia and his conflict with the Garhajis and Tuur (Gilkes 1995: 24). In principle, the Guurti was on Egal’s side, as those Guurti members who opposed the government had left the assembly. Those in favour of the government, including the Guurti chairman, Sheikh Madar, remained in Hargeysa and were widely perceived as having taken a clear political position on the government side. Sheikh Madar supported Egal’s claim that the war was a problem among politicians, rather than among clans. The opposition, on the other hand, considered the Guurti as part of an illegitimate “rubber stamp” parliament that was highly partisan, uncriti- cally endorsing Egal’s decisions in exchange for a monthly salary (Bryden 1994c). When it became clear that Egal wanted a second term of offfĳice and might try to extend the state of emergency to allow this, both Sheikh Ibrahim and the vice chairman of the Guurti, the 80 year old Haji Abdikarim Hussein Yusuf ‘Abdi Waraabe’ (‘Idagalle), made it clear that this decision should be subject to approval by the Somaliland Parliament.

61 Mohammed Ahmed Barre ‘Garaad,’ interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. “at the centre of peace and war” 143

Reportedly, Sheikh Madar felt that it was probably sensible to recall the full National Guurti of 150 for another clan conference (like as the 1993 Borama Conference) or to arrange an election within the sitting House of Elders. This, however, did not happen. In early April, Egal indicated that he would be willing to step down for the sake of peace, but only if the opposition were prepared to lay down its arms. The opposition immediately denounced this as political manoeuvring. On the 20th of April the Houses of Parliament eventually gave Egal an 18-month extension of his mandate anyway, reinforcing the Garhajis’ conviction that the Guurti was no more than the government’s puppet (Gilkes 1995: 24–25). The episode afffected its moral stature and political weight considerably, while the Presidency, yet again, expanded its leverage. In a seemingly reconciliatory move, Egal undertook a major ministerial reshufffle involving a dozen ministers. A number of Alan As hardliners, who were perceived as the hawks in the government camp, lost their posts, despite protests by some of their clan elders. Egal was fĳirmly in control of the government camp (Bryden 1995d). The opposition, on the other hand, was still divided between a majority pro-Somaliland alliance of Habar Yunis and ‘Idagalle clans who were opposed to Egal and a minority of ‘federalists’ associated with Aideed in Mogadishu. The latter group lost a great deal of its momentum, when several of its leaders apparently lost interest in the cause or defected and set up new strategies to further their interests in the southern political quagmire. Clan support or even toler- ance for the federalist cause was weakening too: Hassan Aden Wadadiid, one of the Habar Yunis founders of the SNM, was publicly humiliated by his clansmen at Odweyne, where he was denounced as having been acting contrary to the clan’s interests and without its consent (Bryden 1995d). The pro-Somaliland but anti-Egal opposition, on the other hand, pulled together, led by many of the Garhajis, most prominent elders and politicians—at least, the ones who were not already siding with the government (Bryden 1995d). Yet, despite repeated claims to the contrary, Egal was not planning to step aside and was determined to defeat the opposition.62 There was almost a total absence of contact between the two sides. This time, the stalemate could not be resolved by the Guurti elders

62 See BBC Summary of World Broadcasts citing Radio Hargeysa, on the 19th of May 1996: “President says he will not seek re-election: Speaking in Kheyrida stadium in Hargeysa, during celebrations marking the anniversary of independence, the president [of the Republic of Somaliland, Mr. Muhammad Ibrahim Egal], said that he would not seek re-election when his term of offfĳice expired.” 144 chapter five because of their partisanship and their authority as legislators rather than mediators. In face of this stalemate, the fĳirst steps toward a cessation of the hostilities was taken by local elders of the clans directly involved in the Bur’o conflict.

3.2. Clan-Based Peace Making Revisited By December 1995, no major fĳighting had taken place for months.63 The Somaliland National Army controlled the main road linking Borama, Hargeysa, Berbera and Bur’o, as well as each of these towns themselves. There were opposition forces, only on the western side of Bur’o, which was otherwise still emptied of its inhabitants. Large parts of Hargeysa were empty as well, though life in government controlled areas was virtually normal, except for the occasional skirmishes (Bryden 1995d). Against the background of the stalemate in Bur’o and the simultaneous spread of the tension to Ethiopia’s Somali-inhabited Region 5, the Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo clan elders moved to intervene. In April 1996 war broke out at Gashaamo (Ethiopia) between these two clans. According to one of the Habar Yunis elders involved at the time, it was President Egal who attacked the Habar Yunis across the Ethiopian border using the Habar Ja’lo militia.64 Since both clans’ territories extended into Ethiopia, the Ethiopian authorities sought to prevent the war’s spreading onto Ethiopian soil. This was by no means a remote possibility—many Habar Yunis suspected that the ultimate goal of the Habar Ja’lo was to drive them out of Soma- liland into Ethiopia.65. Under the post-Mengistu transitional government, Ethiopia had become a federal state made up of autonomous regions, allowing ethnic groups, such as the Somali, to administrate their own regions. The Somali region was known as Region 5. By some of the Garhajis, the administration of that region was regard as dominated by Habar Awal. Because a determined coalition of Garhajis and Ogaden, who also had a grudge against the Region 5 administration, could perhaps bring it down, any escalation of hostilities in Somaliland could potentially lead to desta- bilisation on the Ethiopian side of the border (Bryden 1995d). The skirmishes at Gashaamo were thus not to be tolerated.

63 Radio Hargeisa had reported clashes with militia for the last time on the 15th of August (BBC Summary of World Broadcasts 28/08/95). 64 Adam Bahnaan, interview, Hargeysa 19/03/2003. 65 Abdillahi Aden ‘Quruh,’ interview, Bur’o 05/04/2003. “at the centre of peace and war” 145

Yet even the Ethiopian garrisons were powerless to do anything about the situation unless they worked with the only available authorities, the local clan elders. In May 1996, the Ethiopian military brought 50 Habar Ja’lo elders to the Habar Yunis town of Gashaamo in order to negotiate a cease fĳire. Accounts of the event vary, but it seems that somehow the Ethiopian government was able to establish a cease fĳire and initiate peace talks between the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo. The process was to some extent facilitated by the so-called Peace Committee for Somaliland,66 a self-appointed group of mainly expatriate Somaliland professionals of various clan backgrounds, based in Addis Ababa. The Committee succeeded in getting the Habar Ja’lo and Habar Yunis to agree to a reconciliation conference. It was to be hosted by the Habar Yunis and to be held at Gashaamo (The Peace Committee for Somaliland 1997). It was to be a traditional clan meeting. The Habar Yunis who were hosting the meeting were paying for it: businessmen contributed fĳinancially to the organisation of the conference: in one particular case 120 bags of rice and sugar were given to the organising committee as well as 50 million Somaliland Shillings from the businessman’s private capital. No politicians were invited to the conference. The meeting would address none of the issues related to sharing state power. The agenda was limited to how to end violent hostilities between people of the two subclans.67 Moreover, the peace meeting excluded clan leaders that could be considered as “politically involved”: the sultaans were excluded because the Habar Ja’lo sultaans were as seen as part of the government. Elders who had directly taken part in the war, such as the members of the Habar Yunis guurti which militia commander Ahmed Mirre had set up, were excluded too. Somaliland government offfĳicials were not welcome either.68 On both sides of the conflict a strong sense had emerged that the war had been “politically driven” and promoted by “politicians.” According to one Habar Ja’lo elder’s account, it was the government who led the Habar Ja’lo into

66 Some of the interviewees who were involved in the early peace talks between Habar Ja’lo and Habar Yunis explicitly told the author that they had never heard of the said Committee. It seems that its role in the ‘Eastern Process’ was limited—its interventions were aimed at the Hargeysa situation rather than the Bur’o situation. The Hargeysa situation will be discussed below, but as the fĳirst breakthrough in the Somaliland civil war was reached in the context of the Bur’o situation, the latter will be discussed fĳirst. The role and the nature of the Somaliland Peace Committee will be discussed in the context of the Hargeysa process. 67 Elder called ‘Ayaanle,’ interview, Bur’o 05/04/2003. This was confĳirmed by other elders of the Habar Ja’lo and Habar Yunis. 68 Abdillahi Aden ‘Quruh,’ interview, Bur’o 05/04/2003. 146 chapter five the conflict.69 The whole conflict was not about anti-federalism or federalism it was just about power and even Egal, when given the choice between power in Hargeysa or power in Mogadishu would surely have chosen power the latter.70 The Habar Ja’lo decided to stop the war and to convince president Egal to do the same.71 A new meeting between Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo was set, this time hosted by the Habar Ja’lo. The spirit of reconciliation was strengthened at the Ballidhaye Con- ference (Ethiopia) in June 1996. It brought together 274 participants from the two clans, headed by their akils and sultaans. It largely confĳirmed principles agreed upon at the Gashaamo meeting: promotion of peace and understanding, adoption of an immediate cease fĳire at all fronts, release of prisoners of war and the convening of yet another peace meeting to be held on Somaliland soil. That meeting was held at Durugsey, 45 kilometres from Bur’o. Among other measures, the agreements arising from that gathering included setting up a joint committee to spearhead the whole peace process. In addition, the clans would be responsible for their militias by disengaging and relocating them to safe areas to avoid renewed hostilities. The joint committee was also assigned planning further peace meetings between the Habar Ja’lo and the Habar Yunis (Adam Musse Jibril 1996).72 Egal, however, did not condone any further clan- based peace arrangements.

3.3. Egal Hijacks Clan-Based Peace Making The government wanted peace on its own terms—not a clan-based peace that risked sidelining the government because it happened outside the framework of the state. This is what had happened at Borama in 1993 when Tuur (contrary to his expectations) was pushed out of government

69 Abdillahi Mohammed Ahmed ‘Filter,’ interview, Bur’o 07/04/2003. 70 This elder’s position was probably informed by a more recent conflict (with the so- called ‘Bur’o Sultans’). Egal’s nationalist credentials were repeatedly doubted as part of the opposition strategy against him, see infra. 71 To that end they formed a Committee. Members were Habar Ja’lo ‘natural’ leaders, not elected ones, and included Habar Ja’lo sultaans, elders, but apparently also Habar Ja’lo politicians who had been staying in the Diaspora, notably Ahmed Silanyo, the former SNM chairman. Apparently Silanyo was not considered a ‘politician’ by his clansmen at the time, because he had not directly been involved in the war as he was residing in London when the war was going on. He was rather regarded as a Habar Ja’lo elder and intellectual who was concerned about Somaliland (Abdillahi Mohammed Ahmed ‘Filter,’ interview, Bur’o 07/04/2003; Ali Dirriye Jama ‘Mudubbe,’ interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003; and Suleiman Awood Jama, interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003. 72 For a translation of the Durugsey Accord, see Bryden and Farah (s.d.). “at the centre of peace and war” 147 by the elders of the Guurti. Egal was not going to allow this outcome to repeat. The Guurti was already in his pocket. The national elders’ assembly was part and parcel of the government and therefore had an interest in expanding the realm of the state. Egal also made sure to undermine clan-based peace negotiations and deals that took place without his direct involvement and that threatened to result in extra-state or strong region- ally based arrangements. Unlike what happened during the previous round of peacemaking the Somaliland national Guurti was not at all a pivotal actor in this round. It just issued a statement congratulating “those working for peace and offfering them [the guurti’s] wholehearted support,”73 emphasising that it was the sacred duty of the people and government of Somaliland to work for peace. Egal successfully mobilized Guurti members to discourage their clansmen from participating in the spontaneous, extra-state clan conferences (Bryden and Farah s.d.). Egal insisted that the war was a political conflict, not a clan matter, and that it had to be treated as such. As head of state, he should be therefore “at the centre of any peace initiative.”74 The government even intervened actively to stall or break up peace conferences on several occasions, preventing the development of locally-driven peace arrangements. This happened with clan-based negotiations planned in Mandera and Beer, as well as with the peace process facilitated by the Peace Committee for Somaliland.

Mandera Earlier talks between the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo around the fĳighting in Bur’o resulted in the decision to involve the Habar Awal/Issa Musa as well. The Habar Awal/Issa Musa was Egal’s clan, and had been fĳighting in Bur’o, so their participation was needed for a regional peace deal. Moreover, during the war the Habar Yunis were displaced from every major town in Somaliland, including Berbera, which they shared with the Habar Awal/Issa Musa. Because the port was economically so important, the Habar Yunis were keen to get back their access to Berbera (Adam Musse Jibril 1996). With the preparations for a peace meeting at Mandera (located between Berbera and Hargeysa) between the Habar Yunis and the Habar Awal/Issa Musa in full swing, Egal intervened and requested the Habar Awal/Issa Musa elders to quit the negotiations.

73 BBC Summary of World Broadcasts 06/08/1996. 74 Mohammed Dahir Abdi, interview, Hargeysa 30/03/2003; and Mohammed Aden ‘Dherre,’ interview, Hargeysa 30/03/2003. 148 chapter five

The Habar Yunis elders were furious, but the Habar Awal/Issa Mussa backed offf.75 So the conference between the Habar Yunis and the Habar Awal/Issa Musa never took place.

Beer A conference between the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo, held in Beer in September 1996, was sabotaged by Egal as well. First the president prevented the Habar Ja’lo from honouring their initial commitments to the Habar Yunis. Both had agreed to exchange prisoners, but the government refused to release the Habar Yunis prisoners, stating that ultimately they were not prisoners of the Habar Ja’lo but of the government. Egal eventually had to give way because of public pressure (even from within his own clan). The Habar Yunis POWs were released. Yet Egal did succeed in breaking up arrangements for further negotiations. He had the Somaliland Guurti start preparations for a separate, national-level peace conference in Hargeysa, a clan-based one seemingly modelled after the 1993 Borama Conference. While the Beer entente was going on, Egal started to send out invitations for the Hargeysa Conference, in an attempt to drain attend- ance at Beer and undermine any agreements made there. To start with, Egal invited the Habar Yunis anti-Egal opposition hardliners who had refused to attend Beer (Aden Muse Jibril 1996). Egal’s offfer opened prospects for the hardliners, who in fact had lost the war with Egal. Compromising with him was the best deal available to them.76 They accepted Egal’s invitation, and some were rewarded by becoming some of Egal’s most prominent allies after the war. Egal then invited the Beer delegates to come to Hargeysa and fĳinalise their peace deals there. Egal managed to win over one of the most influential Habar Yunis sultaans—reportedly by offfering him money—who brought with him half of the Habar Yunis clan.77 The other Habar Yunis remained at Beer, because they believed that the local peace should be given priority.

75 Mohammed Dahir Abdi, interview, Hargeysa 30/03/2003; and Mohammed Aden ‘Dherre,’ interview, Hargeysa 30/03/2003. 76 Rashid Sheikh Abdillahi, interview, Hargeysa 09/06/2002. 77 Rashid Sheikh Abdillahi, interview, Hargeysa 09/06/2002. The division between those who stayed and those who left was purely political: it was not so that some subclans decided to stay and others decided to leave, people decided on a personal basis driven by pragmatic, idealistic or whatever personal motivation. Rashid Sheikh Abdillahi, interview, Hargeysa 09/06/2002. “at the centre of peace and war” 149

The government was working on the Habar Ja’lo side as well. According to Habar Ja’lo elders, some Habar Ja’lo guurti people and some Habar Ja’lo sultaans had been given money by Egal in order to disrupt the peace process.78 The strategy was not immediately successful, but eventually it paid offf: the Habar Ja’lo, too, were divided. When Egal called the attendants of the Beer meeting to Hargeysa, some of the Habar Ja’lo remained at the conference, others left for Hargeysa. The result was that the Beer Conference was abandoned altogether; the action had moved to Hargeysa, and it did not make sense to continue it with delegations that were not really representative. Nor was it the intention of the Beer delegates to start a fresh conflict with the delegates who had “defected” to Hargeysa.79 Some of the Beer delegates who remained at the conference left the peace process altogether; others joined the conference in Hargeysa. Egal offfered political posts and perks to those who answered his call to come to Hargeysa. Those who remained at Beer were sidelined even when they eventually did come.

The Peace Committee for Somaliland The Peace Committee for Somaliland was founded in 1995 as an informal group of expatriates and involved individuals of all warring clans.80 The group started talks with key fĳigures and fĳighters on both sides, with some logistical and fĳinancial support of the Ethiopian Govern- ment. The Somaliland government’s initial reaction to the activities of the Peace Committee was one of mistrust and rejection. In November 1995, the Minister of Foreign Afffairs released a pre-emptive press release in Hargeysa denouncing a peace proposal between the Habar Awal and the Habar Garhajis being prepared by the Committee (Bryden and Farah s.d.). Subsequently, the government changed its strategy from denouncing the Peace Committee to cuddling it to death. The Committee was welcomed at the presidential palace, and a government committee was formed to work with them. President Egal even provided token fĳinancial assistance of 5,000 USD. Yet, at the same time, the Peace Committee’s

78 Ali Dirriye Jama ‘Mudubbe,’ interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003; Suleiman Awood Jama, interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003. 79 Abdillahi Mohammed Ahmed ‘Filter,’ interview, Bur’o 07/04/2003. 80 It was not a clan matter at all, members worked for the Committee on their own initiative. Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe,’ an ‘Idagalle who would in the election of 2003 stand as a presidential candidate was a member of the PCS. His father on the other hand was one of the opposition hawks (interview Aden Muse Jibril, Hargeysa 12/04/03). 150 chapter five activities were monitored and short-circuited where possible (Bryden and Farah s.d.). After a fĳirst meeting involving the Habar Awal, the ‘Idagalle and the Habar Yunis (who had joined the ‘Idagalle in fĳighting the Habar Awal), the government aborted a subsequent meeting which was to consolidate the peace and deal with any outstanding issues. President Egal sent a letter to the Peace Committee instructing them to stop their peace initiatives and to leave the process to the administration. According to the Report of the Peace Committee (1997), “Egal then went on the offfensive and mobilised the awesome and usurped public resources at his disposal to obstruct and dismantle the ongoing peace process.” He then instructed the Habar Awal elders to abandon the process, even though the vast majority of the Habar Awal guurti had initially approved the peace process with the Garhajis. This guurti had been one of the fĳirst set of actors the Peace Committee had contacted. After long discussions it was decided to enlarge the base of discussion by involving Habar Awal intellectuals, businessmen and other prominent members of the clan. The Peace Committee then proposed to the Habar Awal guurti to form a committee to negotiate with the Garhajis. When Egal heard about the initiative, he immediately moved to stop it by calling the Habar Awal guurti and telling them that the Peace Committee for Somaliland was too hur- ried: the Garhajis had fĳirst to be defeated, and only then could reconciliation take place.81 Egal had the resources and political leadership necessary to dominate the process and centralise it: “he wanted to be the centre of peace and war.”82 Whereas the aim of the Peace Committee had been to defuse the whole situation by decentralising the peace process in order to strike hon- ourable and non-humiliating deals for all actors, Egal wanted to win the war and make peace on his own terms. And so he did.83

D. Concluding Remarks

Under the administration of president Egal, the 1993–1995 period saw a consolidation of the Somaliland government and Somaliland state structures. In contrast to his predecessor, Abdirahman Tuur, Egal was able to forge a government coalition of clans and—using the existence of this

81 Aden Muse Jibril, interview, Hargeysa, 12/04/2003. 82 Aden Muse Jibril, interview, Hargeysa, 12/04/2003. 83 Aden Muse Jibril, interview, Hargeysa, 12/04/2003. “at the centre of peace and war” 151 coalition as a basis—to enhance the realm of government to the detriment of the realm of ‘clan.’ To be sure, under Egal clan allegiance remained a very important factor in political strategy. It was through his own clan lines that Egal was able to consolidate the considerable resources that made possible demobilisation of the clan militias. The operation was costly: initially, the Somaliland national budget was almost entirely spent on security—i.e., rations for demobilised and active-duty security forces and their families. But the demobilisation was of crucial importance, because it broadened the range of income-generating activities—notably taxation—to benefĳit the national treasury. This, in turn, reinforced the Egal Administration’s stature as a government: it was now even able to pay (very modest) salaries to its public servants. The existence of this government coalition not only allowed Egal to boast a government and a state that were not based exclusively on his own clan networks, a claim which enhanced the state’s credibility internally and externally, but also permitted him to assume the banner of ‘Somaliland nationalism’ which, as the legacy of the SNM, represented important symbolic capital. This consolidation further was facilitated by the alliance of part of Egal’s opposition with anti-Somaliland external actors, notably UNOSOM II, which came to serve as an external enemy, unifying the government coalition and dividing the opposition. Thus, President Egal, although he was Somaliland’s second president, would enter the Hargeysa Conference as the one and true Father of the Nation, fully on top of the political situation. While in his time Tuur had had to accept a clan-based reconciliation process, culminating in the Borama Conference, Egal managed to steer the peace process himself by disregarding, de-legitimising or hijacking any non-governmental or clan-based initiative. Egal was aware, of course, that separate negotiations between clans would probably lead to the kind of national conference that ousted Tuur, a scenario that Egal wanted to avoid by all means (Bryden 1995c). The Hargeysa Conference of National Communities was carefully prepared to avoid that problem. Set up by the National Guurti and presented as a clan conference the Hargeysa Conference would be criticised very heavily by the opposition as being fĳirmly controlled by the government and not a genuine clan conference at all. CHAPTER SIX

LOOKING LIKE A PROPER STATE

State-building is not and can not be a straightforward technical endeavour. The misguided political interventions of UNOSOM II are a case in point. Statehood is negotiated. Not only between the obvious actors such as politicians and military commanders, but also with extra- state actors and institutions, such as clan elders and businessmen. Rather than a Weberian state, the outcome is a shifting hybrid political order. However, the political claim to attributes associated with Weberian states, such as control over the use of violence and a measure of administration and/or service provision, is vital in terms of political capital. Where was Somaliland’s hybrid political order at on the eve of the Hargeysa Conference? Compared to the period immediately after state collapse, when clan elders (a hybrid category themselves) were the pivotal political actors, the Somaliland government (i.e. the political actors associated with the state) had become much stronger. The weight of the state, especially the president, had markedly increased in Somaliland’s HPO. How did this happen? First, under president Egal the Somali- land government was able to muster the fĳinancial resources for state building. This entailed militia demobilisation, but also buying peace and political allegiance from political competitors in all spheres of the hybrid political order (clan elders, politicians, etc.) Secondly, during the second period of infĳighting in Somaliland (1994–1995) the unpopular machinations of UNOSOM II to undo Somaliland, combined with the existence of a functioning government based on a wide clan coalition, added to the credibility of Somaliland as a state and to that of the Somaliland government as legitimately claiming to govern that state. Somaliland’s hybrid political order developed in such a way that it started looking more like what a state is supposed to look like. During president Egal’s 1997 Hargeysa Conference and in the years following it, Somaliland manifested attributes that theoreticians of state-building love: a modern, instead of a clan-based, system of political representation, government institutions that have expanded to the regions, increased government oversight over social service delivery and increased government oversight over revenue collection and spending. Yet, under the 154 chapter six surface, these shifts represented nothing like an evolution towards Weberian statehood. In this chapter I will show that the continued existence of the HPO was vital for the position of political actors associated with the state. What developed was an increasingly centralised system of clan-based patronage, controlled by Egal’s government and made possible by an unprecedented centralisation of resources at the level of the state. As we have seen, the new system displaced national and local arrangements of power/resource sharing overseen by clan elders and institutions. Clan elders and institutions became fĳirmly incorporated into the government’s sphere of political control, although they remained indispensable for the exercise of that political control. This chapter describes how claims to Weberian statehood served to legitimize power consolidation by Somaliland’s ruling elite. The government apparently enjoyed a certain measure of legitimacy for what it presented as its state-building effforts. Somalilanders were wary and tired of war, and in a major way this contributed to clan elders or other political competitors not challenging the political status quo for a while. The government had ample room to manoeuvre. And people in Somaliland also wanted a state to be built. They expected things from it, such as security and social services. They hoped and expected the state would deliver these things. Though the government tried very hard to be seen to be delivering them, it actually didn’t. Government offfĳicials hoped that apparently functional statehood would be rewarded with international recognition of Somaliland, a goal the government worked very hard to achieve, not entirely because it was in the population’s interest, but mainly in its own.

A. The Hargeysa ‘Clan Conference’ and the End of Clan-Based Representation

Following Egal’s breaking up of the local clan-based peace processes in Mandera (between the Habar Awal and the Habar Yunis) and Beer (between the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo), as well as the process organised by the Peace Committee for Somaliland, he had the Somaliland Guurti convene a clan conference in Hargeysa. Theoretically this conference was open-ended. President Egal delivered an opening speech stating that he handed over the leadership of the country to the “Congress of Communities assembled at Hargeysa.” Opened by the Guurti chairman, Sheikh Ibrahim Sheikh Yusuf Sheikh looking like a proper state 155

Madar, the Hargeysa gathering (like the one at Borama 1993) offfĳicially employed the beel (clan-based) system of representation. But whereas in Borama the elders had been on top of the game, in Hargeysa, president Egal was fĳirmly in control. Thanks to the government’s hand in picking the delegates and the large political slush fund at his disposal, Egal (unlike Tuur in his time) had no trouble getting re-elected president. The diffferences between the Hargeysa conference and the clan conference held at Borama fĳive years earlier were quite stark. First, although both were organised by the Guurti, that Guurti was now part of the government. The government also paid for the conference rather than the clans themselves, as had been the case at Borama. Secondly, on top of the 150 clan delegates who also participated at Borama the Hargeysa conference had an extra 165 delegates, whose selection had been heavily biased by government intervention.1 In picking delegates, Egal rewarded Habar Yunis hawks for giving up their opposition against him. Habar Yunis elders who had been negotiating with the Habar Ja’lo at Beer, on the other hand, were left out. Among the Habar Ja’lo elders Egal favoured those who were quick to accept his invitation to come to the Hargeysa conference, rather than the ones who stayed on at Beer. In contrast to the chairing committee that presided over the Borama Conference, the one at Hargeysa was hand-picked by the government. It included members of the existing parliament (which was clearly on the government side) and “important individuals” selected by the government (Jimcaale 2006: 79). As a result, the neutrality of the chairing committee (the shir gudoon) was ques- tioned; some political actors criticised it for being partisan towards the government, but to no avail. The composition of the chairing committee was important, because it selected clan representatives for the Houses of Parliament (the Guurti and the House of Representatives) and had an equally important role in the nomination of the president (Jimcaale 2006: 81).2 Once the right people

1 Abdillahi Mohammed Ahmed ‘Filter,’ interview, Bur’o 07/04/2003; Ali Dirriye Jama ‘Mudubbe,’ interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003; Suleiman Awood Jama, interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003. 2 In 1993, at Borama, the stakes in being selected as a member of parliament had been considerably less high. There was little interest in joining parliament as many people did not expect the government to last very long and did not think that there would be any benefĳits associated with being an MP. As a result there was less competition: the 150 Borama delegates were equally divided into the two houses of parliament. If a clan was not satisfĳied with the performance of its representative, it could just remove him and replace him by another. By 1997, however, it had become clear that the benefĳits associated with becoming and MP were signifĳicant; consequently, the stakes were higher. 156 chapter six were in place, Egal simply bought them. The presidential election was held on the 23rd of February 1997 after the Conference had offfĳicially been in session for more than four months. He acquired a landslide victory. Rumour went round in Hargeysa during that time that clan elders with little education were being paid 1,500 USD per person, while university graduates received 5,000 USD each.3 Needless to say, Egal won by a landslide. Egal also had the fĳinancial means to outspend political competitors on the national level. The 1996–1997 period was one of clearly visible, rapidly increasing economic activity: In the midst of a construction boom, Somaliland received a flood of migrant workers to take up jobs in the informal sector. Telephone companies started businesses, as did airlines and small manufacturing companies, partly fuelled by concerns about investing in southern Somalia (Bryden 2003). Profĳits from these businesses were very unequally distributed: Egal and his business associates virtually controlled the Somaliland economy. Le Sage (s.d.) noted that “the Egal administration was able to run the Somaliland government as a combined mechanism for profĳit, patronage and protection racketeering.” The president was now in a position to manipulate particular groups, to counter-balance their power or to shift alliances as part of maintaining his position. Loyalty was produced by expanding patronage and granting or denying individual clan agents a role in the state apparatus (Renders and Terlinden 2010).

1.1. A New Political System for Somaliland The Hargeysa Conference set out to address the formal issue of political representation in Somaliland’s national institutions. Under the new draft constitution, agreed upon at Hargeysa, Somaliland was to discontinue the clan-based system of representation, and move on to a one-person- one-vote system in a multi-party democracy. This change responded to a number of objections to clan-based representation and governance by the elders. But it was also good for Egal: the new multi-party system would end the role of clan elders as the principal legislators in Somaliland, not only de facto, but also de jure, and thus add to Somaliland’s image as a ‘proper’ state. Drafting a constitution was a task that lingered on since the Borama Conference. The draft was supposed to have materialised by the end of

3 Indian Ocean Newsletter 15/05/1997. looking like a proper state 157

Egal’s two-year term, but the process sufffered multiple delays. Apart from the war that was going on, the parliament and the president had been unable to agree on who should draft it (the parliament or the president) or on the system which was to be preferred (a US-style executive presidency or a parliamentary democracy). The delays irritated the parliament and Egal’s cabinet ministers, who accused him of reducing them to mere secretaries. The matter ran into a stalemate when both the parliament and the president each produced their own drafts. Egal’s version was prepared in October 1995, by a hired legal consultant, the Sudanese professor and former Foreign Afffairs Minister Mohammed Ibrahim Khalil, who reported to the president rather than the parliament. In response, the Somaliland parliament prepared its own rival draft.4 The conference attempted to reconcile the two drafts into a single document that would provide an interim constitution or at least a provisional basis for government, pending popular endorsement by a general referendum. Egal’s goal was to increase the weight of the executive.5 The president and the parliament remained in contention until 2000, when Egal fĳinally succeeded in pushing through a multi-party system (MPS) with an executive president. The referendum on the draft constitution eventually took place on the 31st of May of that same year, four years after the Hargeysa Conference. Until then, the clan-based representation system would remain in force. Although the actual implementation of the new political system was delayed because the president and the parliament could not agree on the extent of presidential powers, the delegates at the Hargeysa conference endorsed the introduction of the multi-party system. The new system of representation made Somaliland even look more like what is considered a normal, modern, proper state, one with the prospect of enjoying good governance and development. First, it solved the problem that more than half the population was excluded from political participation under the clan-based representation system. Neither women nor members of ‘minorities’ were (or are) allowed to participate in clan deliberations. Women are not allowed to participate because their loyalties are supposed to be ambiguous: a woman lives among the clan of her husband (and children) while remaining a member of her father’s clan. In principle, she cannot be trusted to protect the interests of her husband’s and

4 Africa Confĳidential 16/02/1996. 5 Horn of Africa Bulletin 4/1999. 158 chapter six children’s clan. Members of “minority groups,” as they are euphemisti- cally called in Somaliland, are traditionally considered bondsmen of one of the “noble” Somali clans and as such had not allowed to participate in clan politics and deliberations.6 Secondly, people expected that the multi-party system would allow for more development-oriented policies and government structures able to implement them.7 The clan-based system and clan elders, however functional they had been in the immediate aftermath of state collapse, lacked the political and professional attributes necessary to take Somaliland further onto the road of peace and development. Elders and ‘traditional’ clan institutions were to some degree able to “keep the peace,” i.e., to make sure that clan fĳighting was contained whenever it erupted, but elders were generally less well placed to develop state policy. Although the move to a multi-party system was favoured and pushed mostly by younger relatively well-to-do urbanites, all Somalilanders expected and demanded services such, as health care and education, not from their elders or ‘traditional’ leaders but from the state and the government.8 Asked about the rationale behind the introduction of the multi-party system, Mohamed Silanyo, one of Somaliland’s politicians who rose to prominence again after the introduction of the MPS,9 responded, “In the end, in a modern global environment, one needs a modern government and a modern state: the use of traditional structures was only justi- fĳied in terms of the reactivation and the revival of the modern structures that existed before state collapse.”10 The fact that Somaliland looked more like a proper state, was expected to help the country win international recognition as such. Without international recognition, there would be no foreign investment, no prospects of bilateral aid, no possibility of formal trade or political relations with other countries, no passports for Somaliland citizens.

6 While neither women or minorities had been represented at the 1993 Borama Conference, some provisions were made for them at the 1997 Hargeysa Conference. The Constitutional Committee technically allowed women to represent their clans, but none of the clans did send women representatives. The minorities, who now seemed to be considered as a ‘clan’ of their own, were allowed to send their own representatives, although they still felt that they were underrepresented (WSP 1999: 31; Jimcaale 2006: 66, 84; interview Sultaan Nadiif, interview, Hargeysa 17/03/2003. 7 Mohammed Ahmed ‘Silanyo,’ interview, Hargeysa 05/06/2002. 8 Mustafa Rashaad, interview, Hargeysa 04/02/2002. 9 Silanyo had been SNM Chairman before Tuur. 10 Mohammed Ahmed ‘Silanyo,’ interview, Hargeysa 05/06/2002. looking like a proper state 159

Politically, the introduction of the multi-party system was also potentially advantageous for Egal. Whereas clans enjoyed more automatic legitimacy and support, political parties would have to build it. The government party’s position as the incumbent, with access to superior fĳinan- cial resources and networks, would give it a head start. Yet, Egal still masterfully played the clan factor in the arena of Somaliland politics. Great care was taken to make sure that all clans were equitably served in stafffĳing offfĳicial duties and government jobs, while at the same time frequent reshufffles prevented ministries or top jobs to become owned by certain clans or subclans. Thus, while creating a clean external image of clanless state institutions, Egal kept the clans and their ambitious political elements at his mercy, making it clear that he was the one who determined access to positions in the state apparatus and the resources associated with them.

B. Undoing Local Governance Arrangements While Outsourcing Security and Public Order

As part of its consolidation and international-recognition effforts, the government was keen to expand its control throughout Somaliland. As soon as he was re-elected, Egal set out to build local administrations and governance that were fĳirmly linked to the central government level. Yet, the expansion of state governance to the local level was not a uniform process in all localities: governance would be left to elders and clan institutions where necessary but taken over by the state wherever possible. Ironically, in claiming the attributes of Weberian statehood, the provision of security, through state monopoly over the legitimate use of violence, arguably the most critical of all state attributes, remained out of reach of the Somaliland government. Neither the government, the police nor any other state institution was in control. Reminiscent of what Menkhaus (2006a, 2008) called “mediated statehood,” Somaliland authorities in fact outsourced the maintenance of public order and security mainly to clan elders and institutions.11 This was not only the case in Bur’o, which had recently emerged from an armed conflict, it was even the case

11 Mediated statehood may occur when weak state authorities have a strong interest in extending governmental authority to frontier areas but lack the means to do so. In such a case state authorities may ‘reach out to negotiate with non-state authorities they would otherwise have viewed as rivals to be marginalised or tools to be co-opted.’ 160 chapter six in Borama, which had not seen any major fĳighting since the cease-fĳire between the Gadabursi militia and the SNM in 1991. When it came to public order and security, the boundaries between the state’s and the elders’ sphere remained open and flexible, allowing the government to intervene in conflicts where political stakes were high (Renders and Terlinden 2010). Covering up this obvious gap in Weberian state imagery, the Somali- land government made every efffort to manifest itself in terms of administrative control and provision of social services, functions that indeed the Somaliland population expected a state to provide. How this balance between central-government control and the less authoritative bureaucratic provision of central-government services worked out on the ground may be strikingly illustrated by the contrasting events in Bur’o and Borama.

2.1. Building From the Ground Up: Bur’o After the 1994–1996 war and the Hargeysa Conference that formally ended it, governance and local administration in Bur’o had to be rebuilt from the ground up. This was not an easy task, with the Habar Yunis and the Habar Ja’lo deeply mistrusting one another. At the outset a large proportion of Bur’o’s original inhabitants were no longer living there. During the 1994–1996 war anti-government Habar Yunis militia units had driven the civilian population (both Habar Ja’lo and Habar Yunis) from the town. Since the Habar Yunis militia were occupying the town, Habar Yunis came back fĳirst, as soon as the initial negotiations between Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo elders had made it clear that the fĳighting was over. The Habar Ja’lo remained in nearby Yirowe, where they had fled at the onset of the fĳighting. Yirowe had developed into a market town with a large livestock market. Both sets of clan elders had set up basic government structures in their respective areas. Material provisions, however, were sparse, and clan elders were in no position to make living conditions better. Both Habar Ja’lo and Habar Yunis elders therefore petitioned the government to help the people of Bur’o and Togdheer by installing and equitable and just government and by providing basic social services. Egal sent his Vice president Dahir Riyale Kahin to do the job.12 According to a Habar Yunis politician who had been involved in the peace process after the war, Riyale gathered Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo politicians in the Bur’o house of the new Habar Yunis Minister of the

12 Haroon Yusuf, interview, Bur’o 08/07/2002. looking like a proper state 161

Interior to discuss how they would go about setting up local government. The assembly decided to appoint a Mayor, a vice Mayor and an Executive Secretary. For the time being no further appointments were made, so as “not to overburden clan consensus.” Therefore, a local council would be appointed only later. The Habar Ja’lo claimed the post of Mayor as a condition of their returning to Bur’o from Yirowe. The Habar Yunis agreed so long as the post would alternate between both clans. By way of compensation, the government appointed a Habar Yunis politician to the post of Governor of Togdheer Region.13 Although local government in Bur’o established a police station, a courthouse, and a prison, it was unable to enforce peace and maintain security. The elders wanted the government to strengthen the local police force, but it remained weak, untrained and virtually unpaid. Local army units in Togdheer reportedly did somewhat better at maintaining peace than the local police and were sometimes sent by the government to disarm clansmen involved in a conflict.14 According to accounts of local government offfĳicials, the police sometimes dealt with petty crimes, such as theft, but clan matters such as murder or land disputes, were handled by committees of clan elders from both sides. For example, ad hoc Peace Committees were a locally grown arrangement specifĳic to Bur’o. With no set number of members, each Committee was composed in accordance with the needs of each particular case. Usually the governor of Togdheer was part of the committee but as one of the elders. The committee would resolve land, commercial disputes, or other disputes that turned violent, according to existing heer laws between the two clans involved. Although the government backed the activities of the Peace Committee and in each instance the governor “was kept informed at all times,” elders claimed that the government did not actively participate or interfere. The activities of the Peace Committees were funded by the Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo, with each clan paying into a peace box, that was kept to pay for mediation procedures. The Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo elders who participated on Peace Committees also participated in resolving conflicts within their own clans.15

13 Abdirahman Mohammed Ajib, interview, Hargeysa, 18/03/2003. While being inhabited predominantly by Habar Yunis and Habar Ja’lo, Bur’o is also the home of a large number of Dhulbahante. The relation between the Dhulbahante, Somaliland and the Somaliland government will be discussed in the next chapter. 14 Aden Yusuf Abokor, interview, Hargeysa, 08/07/2002; Ibrahim Ayaanle Mirre, interview, Bur’o 05/04/2003; Haroon Yusuf, interview, Bur’o 08/07/2002. 15 Ali Diriye Jama ‘Mudubbe,’ interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003; Suleiman Awood Jama, interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003. 162 chapter six

The House of Akils provides another example of a local governing body with both clan and government connections. Reportedly founded by Egal’s Government in 1999, it was made up of the Togdheer regional chiefs, representing all clans from all districts. Though established by Egal, there was no administrative law governing it, only what the akils called “unwritten law.” The relation of this semi-offfĳicial elders’ body in Bur’o to national structures, notably the national Guurti was not entirely clear. According to some members, the House of Akils was involved in selecting the Togdheer representatives to the Guurti in Hargeysa. It seems, however, that some of the members of the House of Akils were involved in this activity in their own capacity as clan elders rather than as members of the House of Akils. In fact, however, very few government offfĳicials in Hargeysa seemed to have heard of the House of Akils.16 Governance structures—offfĳicial, semi-offfĳicial and “tribal”—thus overlapped frequently. Indeed, both local clan elders and local politicians claimed that diffferent governance structures involving clan elders “are the same, they do the same things, they all keep the peace.”17 The role of the police seems to have been limited to assisting the elders, who actually resolved the conflict. When interviewed in the spring of 2003 the commander of the Bur’o section of the Somaliland Custodian Corps insisted that the police did “apprehend criminals, put them in jail and bring them to court where they were sentenced.” Afterwards, “at the request of the government,” a convicted man’s elders would come and negotiate with the clan elders of the victim and the police. As soon as the diya (blood price) was set, however, “the sentence would be reduced” and the perpetrator generally set free.18 In reality, it was rather rare for the police to arrest anybody involved in a crime that might escalate into a clan conflict. Much more often—and in order to avoid a shoot-out— wrongdoers were apprehended by their own clansmen and then (sometimes) left in police custody so the elders of the involved clans could start conducting their negotiations.19 If a matter was brought before a court at all, judges in the offfĳicial court system, as well as the police, were often forced by the circumstances to

16 Meeting with the members of the House of Akils, Bur’o 11/06/2002. 17 Meeting with the members of the House of Akils, Bur’o 11/06/2002. 18 Jama Ahmed Kodah, interview, Bur’o 12/06/2002; Suleiman Muse Hassan, interview, Bur’o 12/06/2002. At the time of the interviews, 20 people were said to be in jail for murder, for 12 of them the negotiations between the families and diya paying groups were going on. 19 Markus Höhne, personal communication 2008. looking like a proper state 163 grant precedence to customary law, which was administered and applied by the elders. If a settlement was reached outside of court, neither judges nor the police could prevent the release of the offfender so long as his relatives and clansmen insist on it. The courts had no choice but to ratify out-of-court settlements brokered by elders (SAP 2002d: 4). Although government agencies and personnel were sometimes involved in the elders committees that dealt with peace and security, any government intervention that was not negotiated with clan elders was clearly impossible. Land disputes in particular were particularly thorny, because of their potential to escalate into interclan violence. Depending on the source of information, land disputes were reported to be referred to the courts, handled personally by the governor or the mayor, discussed by elders, committees or combinations of all the former. Clan elders, however, appear to have had a decisive voice in them. Bur’o offfĳicial records and land titles were lost or destroyed in the war, and rightful owners could not prove their ownership, as offfĳicials were bribed to fabricate false documents, resulting in many conflicting claims. Interestingly, because solutions to land disputes were negotiated by the elders of the clans involved, false claims generated material benefĳit, too. The outcome of the deliberations was usually not a decision as to the rightful ownership, but a settlement—which meant that everybody got at least something out of it, including the false claimant.20 With full control over peacekeeping and security well out of its reach, local government did develop some capacity for administration and service-provision. Indeed, the situation in Bur’o remained stable in the period after the 1996–1997 war, local government activity in fact expanded. A city council was set up, comprised of individuals belonging to the local clans. In the absence of local elections the Mayor picked members himself, usually from among respected elders and taking into account clan balance and political reliability. Some mayors started advisory ‘committees.’ In 2002, for example, the Bur’o mayor started a District Development Committee to oversee development fĳinance and policy. The 17 members were hand-picked by the mayor and included members from all regional clans. Later, the mayor also included NGO personnel, prominent private sector actors and a number of women.21

20 Yusuf Awale, interview, Bur’o 11/06/2002. 21 Perhaps this was due to the fact that the DCC had been founded at the instigation of a well-connected Bur’o professional working at the Hargeysa branch of UNDP Somalia. 164 chapter six

At the same time as these local developments were taking place, however, local governments were also becoming increasingly controlled by Hargeysa. In addition to the Governor and the Mayor, the central government created administrators to coordinate local activities with the line ministries in Hargeysa. Part of the development activities in Bur’o, for example, became overseen by the ‘coordinator for international and local NGOs,’ who apparently had been mandated by the Ministry of the Interior. According to his own words, the NGO-coordinator was responsible for registering international and local NGOs. He also informed them and the Minister of the Interior of the specifĳic needs of the region, such as droughts or food shortages.22 Bur’o had been promised funds for post-war rehabilitation to be supported by a national tax decreed by president Egal, called the aafada. But the money never really materialized,23 so the resources available for development or social services didn’t amount to much. Bur’o’s marginalisation in terms of funding for social services and its appended political support and spoils for local politicians would contribute later to a fresh political conflict between Bur’o-based politicians (supported by some titled elders) and the central government in Hargeysa.

2.2. Taking Over and Taking Away: Borama In Borama the story of expanding central control was diffferent. Not in terms of public order and provision of security—essentially the same happened here as in Bur’o. Clan elders were in charge of public order, under the tutelage of actors associated with the state. In efffect, security was outsourced to the elders—the government’s involvement was minimal, and it did not aim to expand its role. The level of local governance and service provision, however, was far superior to Bur’o. Clan elders were very involved in local governance which included overseeing social service provision by local and international NGOs.24 Now Egal moved to bring the international NGOs under his control and oversight. In contrast to Bur’o, Borama was unafffected by the 1994–1996 war. Local government had been working well, with a large degree of local

22 Hassan Garuf Abdi, interview, Bur’o 12/06/2002. 23 Reportedly, this aafada had been advocated by Mohammed Silanyo when he was a member of the House of Representatives in order to serve his ‘home constituency.’ However, according to the same source, the tax was collected only once and Silanyo never enforced collection when he himself was minister of fĳinance (Hussein Mohamoud, interview, Hargeysa 12/04/2003). 24 Abdirahmaan Jim’aale ‘Dherre,’ interview, Hargeysa 20/03/2003. looking like a proper state 165 autonomy. The local clan elders played a big part in steering local governance, to a large degree controlling the actions of governors appointed from Hargeysa. The Borama Mayor was unable to go against the Social Council of Elders, which functioned as a semi-offfĳicial city council.25 After the Hargeysa Conference, the balance started to tilt toward the government. Municipal authorities, appointed by Hargeysa, gained political weight to the detriment of the elders. Egal hand-picked municipal offfĳi- cials himself, and they reported to him alone (Menkhaus 1997: 35). Nevertheless, the government did not attempt to gain full control over the provision of public order. Police, army and other law enforcement agencies were established in and around Borama. But conflicts, especially over land, were handled by the clan elders. Here again, as in Bur’o, the local and even the central government often had some involvement, but clan elders were in the driver’s seat. The government was not in a position to enforce law and order and in fact had to “creep into the traditional system” in order to keep a measure of control. Land issues are particularly illustrative of the balance between government and clan authority in Borama. At the fĳirst instance these disputes were mediated by the elders of the respective claimants.26 Local politicians and elders pointed out that when elder mediation failed and the situation got out of hand, the local police intervened to make sure that the fĳighting did not escalate. Sometimes the concerned parties were locked away in jail until the issue was resolved. Continuing conflicts were handled at this stage by a special Land Court, composed of seven elders appointed and paid by the local government. According to one Gadabursi sultaan, this land court was established at the request of the Hargeysa government. Apparently it was also possible for claimants to take their case to the offfĳicial regional court, although it was pointed out that people clearly preferred the elders’ court because it was quicker and more trustworthy. According to one sultaan, procedure in the Land Court would be to discuss the issue with the elders of the disputing parties. If no agreement was reached, the Land Court would decide the matter.27

25 Abdirahmaan Jim’aale ‘Dherre,’ interview, Hargeysa 20/03/2003. 26 Again, like in Bur’o, mediation about land disputes was profĳitable for all parties except the rightful owner of the land: “claim the land, create the dispute and you will get something” a former Borama Mayor remarked. If a settlement was reached between the elders, each of the disputing parties would be given at least something in order for the dispute to be resolved (Mohammed Muse Bahdoon, interview, Borama 23/03/2003. 27 Gadabursi sultaan, interview, Borama 25/03/2003; Mohammed Muse Bahdoon, interview, Borama 23/03/2003. 166 chapter six

Whether people had taken their case to the regional court or the Land Court reportedly did not influence their options for appeal: in either case they had the possibility of appealing to a higher court in Hargeysa, although this was a rare occurrence. When a land issue did get out of hand and someone was killed, the issue automatically became a case for the elders of the killer and the victim as well as other interested parties. This level of security threat always required the involvement of the elders. Beyond security, which remained decentralised and under control of local elders, however, the central government did work to expand its control over local administration and to increase its visibility in other sectors of governance, notably service provision. This is not to say that the central government actually provided many services or resources for local governments.28 However, Borama was host to a large number of international development agencies. Many of these agencies had their regional offfĳices for what they called ‘Northwest Somalia’ in Borama, because it had been a peaceful place throughout Somaliland’s years of civil strife, since the 1994–1996 conflicts directly concerned Isaaq clans and politicians rather than the Gadabursi. Egal’s government now wanted to control the international agencies’ activities, in order to enhance its public image as the facilitator of social service provision. Besides, controlling the international agencies would help Egal’s stature as the president of a proper country. Whatever social services existed in Borama depended primarily both on local private individuals and organisations, largely working with remittances from the Gadabursi diaspora, and on the international aid agencies. Borama regional hospital, although it was supposed to be a state hospital, was kept afloat by external donors: the UN World Food Programme provided food for the patients, the NGO Pharmaciens sans Frontières supplied drugs, the Gadabursi diaspora furnished extra medical supplies and UNOPS renovated the building (Menkhaus 1997: 15). Since the boom years immediately after the Borama Conference, local NGOs have implemented major and smaller projects in various sectors (water, health, etc.) for such donors as UNICEF, Oxfam USA, UNHCR,

28 Despite the fact that in theory state schools or health facilities had always offfĳicially fallen under the responsibility of the Ministries of Education and Health respectively, there had never been any real resources available for the government to spend. In the case of Borama it was recorded by Menkhaus (1997) that the government in Hargeysa provided some money for teachers salaries and for the Borama regional hospital. The money provided for the hospital was barely enough to keep it running for one day each month. Teachers were hardly paid at all. looking like a proper state 167

Gesellschaft für technische Zusammenarbeit (GTZ), some Islamic NGOs based in Jeddah and many more.29 The Social Council of Elders participated in coordinating these activities in aid and development with the local government and the international aid agencies. Before 1997, the Hargeysa government had to accept that the international NGOs had their offfĳices outside the Somaliland capital. Most of the agencies (save for some of the smaller ones) were reluctant to deal with the Somaliland government. Indeed, being UN agencies or agencies funded by the UN, they were not at liberty to treat Somaliland as a full- blown state with a proper government. Most of the agencies considered Somaliland part of Somalia. Though Somalia was an imploded state and a war-zone with no administration that could claim to be an authentic national government, the agencies still considered the Somaliland government to be no more than a makeshift local authority. This changed in the period after the Hargeysa Conference, when President Egal made it understood that the Somaliland government would no longer tolerate being ignored by agencies operating on its territory. In March 1997, President Egal requested international agencies (UN and non-UN) to appoint a Somaliland Resident Representative in Hargeysa, who had to be independent from the Resident Representatives for (Southern) Somalia and who would be empowered to enter into a country agreements with the Republic of Somaliland. The Resident Representatives would also have to be mandated to inform the government of what funds were provided for Somaliland and then consult the Somaliland government on how they had to be used.30 Moreover, Egal demanded that international agencies (UN and non-UN) recognise Somaliland as an independent state or stop their activities and leave. The international agencies duly replied that only states could recognise other states, but the increased influence of the government was demonstrated when the agencies based in Borama did shift their offfĳices to Hargeysa. With this move, the Borama economy lost local jobs and other benefĳits, as well as the leverage to generate its own income and to determine its own policy concerning service provision. Local NGOs stopped their operations as there was no longer sufffĳicient funding. The intellectuals and professionals who founded and ran them moved to Hargeysa to look for jobs or to start new NGOs in the capital. Since now development projects had

29 Abdirahman Jim’aale ‘Dherre,’ interview, Hargeysa 30/03/2003. 30 Horn of Africa Bulletin 2/1997. 168 chapter six to be negotiated via Hargeysa, the Social Council of Elders—for want of fresh projects to select and oversee—stopped working. The Municipality was starved of resources and reportedly became unable to provide any services beyond garbage collection.31

C. Centralising Symbolic and Material Resources

The centralisation of political control in Hargeysa naturally coincided with the centralisation of control over resources in the hands of the government, particularly international aid and taxation. International aid was rather unimportant in terms of monetary income, but the development projects executed on Somaliland soil, however modest, represented a symbolic resource, as the government worked to be seen as a provider of administration and a facilitator of social services. The Somaliland government’s own tax capacity, on the other hand, was vital for the government’s very survival. Without the government’s tax income, buying peace and political allegiance would become impossible.

3.1. International Aid Because Somaliland was not recognized as a state, most international aid to the Somaliland population largely bypassed the government (Bradbury 2008: 158). The government did try, however, to gain a stake in a national development policy. Being able to direct development policy meant being able to direct where the foreign agencies would spend their money for salaries, property rent and other consumables. It also meant increased stature as a proper government, inside Somaliland and out. In 1997, the Somaliland government published its fĳirst two-year development plan (1998–1999). The document outlined government priorities within each sector and proposed projects the international agencies would be able to subscribe to. A wide range of projects was proposed, covering various sectors. They included, for example, the Rehabilitation of Berbera Fishing Centre and Cold Storage (Government project n°3, budgeted 705,000 USD, with a government contribution of 50,000 USD), a “Short-Term Training Programme for Health Stafff” (Govern- ment Project n°5, budgeted 252,000 USD) and Special (particularly costly)

31 Abdirahmaan Jim’aale ‘Dherre,’ interview, Hargeysa 20/03/2003; Mohammed Muse Bahdoon, interview, Hargeysa 23/03/2003. looking like a proper state 169

Projects, “Requiring Special Negotiations,” such as “Road Rehabilitation and Maintenance” and the building of an abattoir and tannery factory at Berbera. Apparently, the donor agencies, to a certain extent, complied with the wishes of the Somaliland government and by 1998 pledged funding to the amount of 5.2 million USD for projects outlined in the development plan (Gees 1998). Volume two of the two-year development plan, published in 1998, was an Operational Plan, setting out in more detail the Government’s development strategies and priorities “to leave no doubt in the minds of the international agencies and NGOs as to where the government’s priorities lay,” according to Mohammed Said Gees, the Minister of Planning. The idea was to develop a much higher degree of cross-sector coordination between agencies operating in Somaliland, and even more importantly, between the agencies and their sectoral line ministries under the auspices of the Ministry of National Planning and Coordination (Gees 1998). The Ministry of Planning stated that still some international agencies were too much inclined towards ad hoc project selection-“they pursued their own whims and fancies”—aloof from the exigencies of Government. This had perhaps been to some extent unavoidable during the years of internal strife in Somaliland, but it was no longer seen as tolerable in the present circumstances. The Government also acknowledged that in the case of many agencies, the situation had now improved and there was now “a willingness by most agencies and NGOs, never seen before, to cooperate directly with the central government and its departments, albeit with declining external funds” (Republic of Somaliland 1998). The Hargeysa government’s drive to win control over the activities of international organisations in the sphere of development and service provision was part of a general tendency towards centralisation and nationalist self-assertion. On an international level, President Egal showed that he was able to enforce his decisions vis-à-vis the donors and the United Nations, who were still unconvinced of the validity of Somaliland’s claim to independence and recognition. The 1997 Report of the Secretary General to the United Nations Security Council (UNSC 1997), for example, appeared to consider the whole of Somalia (including the Northwest) as stateless, anarchic and volatile. No distinction was made between the situation in Hargeysa (which was quite peaceful) and the situation in Mogadishu (which was still characterised by persistent violence). Neither was a distinction made between the respective statures of the political leaders. Egal was—like the men claiming political power in the South— in fact considered yet another faction leader and was treated as such. 170 chapter six

Making nationalist and especially governmental claims (i.e. by drafting development plans) and have them enforced, served Egal to strengthen his position internationally. Egal’s nationalist self-assertion also served domestic purposes. It enhanced his credibility as a Somaliland nationalist and a powerful president. His ability to steer development policy also enhanced his domestic credibility as the leader of a state that was willing and able to provide for its citizens, something which was—even after years of statelessness— still expected by those citizens.

3.2. Vital: Tax Revenue Systematic tax collection in Somaliland (albeit very limited) started from 1994, after the Borama Conference. Both local and central governments levied tax. Most of the tax income was generated via customs duties levied on large roads or at sea– and airports upon entering Somaliland. Many of these tax points had been gradually taken over from the local clan militia groups who occupied them and who extorted money from passers-by. Now, as the reach of government expanded, fĳirst to Western Somaliland and then also to Bur’o and later Erigavo,32 these roadblocks and checkpoints became controlled by local or central government. In some cases control over these assets was heavily contested, especially when the asset was to be brought directly under control of the central government. This had been the case with President Tuur trying to establish control over Berbera port, occupied by Habar Awal militia or

32 Erigavo had since the regional peace agreement reached at the Erigavo Conference in 1993 been governed by a committee of 12 ‘wise men’—3 for each of the four clans inhabiting the town (Habar Yunis, Habar Ja’lo, Dhulbahante and Warsengeli). The ‘wise men’ were supported by a police force of 200 men—50 from each clan. While the police was mainly concerned with petty crimes, more serious crimes which were likely to have political consequences (especially murder) were dealt with by the elders. This situation persisted from 1993 to 1997 (interview Mohammed Said ‘Gees,’,’ Hargeysa, 06/06/2002.). It had been judged too early to set up the Somaliland administration. Moreover, Egal’s initial choice of governor did not please the Isaaq or the Warsengeli: Abdirahman Aw Ali, the Gadabursi SNM colonel, was considered a ‘war criminal’ in the area. During the fĳirst attempts at peace-making between the Warsengeli and the Isaaq he reportedly interfered by attacking the town where the meeting was held (Mark Bradbury, interview, Hargeysa 09/03/2003). Egal did not insist at the time, presumably as he was still trying to consolidate his rule in the Western regions. In 1997, Egal sent a delegation of 9 government ministers originating from the area, to sort out local government in Erigavo. After fĳive months, the Somaliland president was able to appoint a Mayor for Erigavo and a Governor for Sanaag (Mohammed Said ‘Gees,’ interview, Hargeysa 06/06/2002). In Erigavo, government taxation was introduced gradually in 1998–1999—fĳirst at reduced rates in order to foster willingness among the business community to actually pay them. looking like a proper state 171 in the case of President Egal trying to establish control over Hargeysa Airport, which had been occupied by ‘Idagalle militia. At these locations the government had to compromise, at least initially. Reportedly, in the case of Hargeysa Airport, Egal agreed with a delegation of ‘Idagalle33 that the government would allow the ‘Idagalle to keep some measure of control over at least part of the airport revenue, without this being noticeable to foreign visitors.34 Even Berbera, despite the fact that the port was controlled by Egal’s clansmen (the Habar Awal/Issa Musa), government control appears to have been short of complete. Berbera port was beyond government oversight, even as late as 2001. The Port Authority, offfĳicially under the jurisdiction of the Hargeysa government, set and changed tarifffs without due consultation of the relevant government bodies (Jimcaale 2005: 110). Nevertheless, whatever portion of the tax income from Berbera found its way to the government’s cofffers in Hargeysa, was crucial to the survival of the Somaliland administration under Egal. The ‘Berbera money’ was considered to be Egal’s single most important instrument for keeping political control. The port had become a major regional hub for food imports and livestock export. Before the war against Siyyad Barre livestock exports through Berbera accounted for over 75% of Somalia’s recorded foreign exchange income. (De Waal 1996). This was still the case after the war: livestock was Somaliland’s main export commodity, and Berbera remained the main livestock exporting outlet to the Gulf. Livestock from over the entire Somali-speaking region (including the Somali Regional State of Ethiopia) was walked or trucked to Berbera to be exported from there. Saudi Arabia in particular remained a huge market, especially during the hajj season. Other markets included Yemen and some other Gulf states such as Oman, Qatar and the United Arab Emirates (Gaani 2005: 190). Livestock export after the war far exceeded pre-war levels. In 1993 livestock exports had reached pre-war levels, by 1994 they passed the pre-war threshold and by 1997 almost three million heads were sold and exported (Gaani 205: 228). Although fĳigures are hard to come by, according to the Somaliland Government Ministry of National Planning and Coordination, the total value of livestock exports (at producer prices) in 1997 amounted

33 Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/1997. The delegation consisted of elders, intellectuals, religious personalities and army offfĳicers. 34 Georges Block, interview, Hargeysa 04/02/2002. The interviewee was later declared persona non grata by the Somaliland government and deported. 172 chapter six to approximately 93 million USD (Republic of Somaliland 1998 (2): 50). Imports amounted to a value of 150 million USD.35 These fĳigures represented a considerable tax base for the Somaliland government, even taking into account the initial large tax breaks enjoyed by the Djibouti-based business tycoons.36 Then disaster struck. In 1998, excessive rains—associated with the el Niño phenomenon—led to an outbreak of Rift Valley Fever (RVF) in the Horn. Saudi Arabia responded with an immediate ban on livestock imports from Somalia. As a result, Somaliland’s livestock exports decreased by 64% (Gaani 2005: 228). Aware of the fatal consequences this would have on national revenue, the Somaliland government protested vigorously. To the relief of the livestock sector and the government, the ban was eventually lifted in May 1999. Exports immediately rose sharply. In the second half of 1999, again one and a half million sheep and goats were exported.37 The breathing space however, was short-lived: the Saudi government and this time also the other Gulf States reinstated the ban in September 2000, when over 100 people in Saudi Arabia and Yemen died from contracting RVF.38 Not only Saudi Arabia, but also Yemen and Dubai closed their ports to livestock from the Horn, meaning that the backdoor to the Saudi market was now closed as well. The consequences of the ban were even more dramatic than in 1998 (UNDP 2001: 98).39

35 Indian Ocean Newsletter 30/05/1998. 36 The Djibouti-based business tycoons enjoyed large tax breaks when exporting or importing via Berbera. The tax breaks were granted to them by the Somaliland government as a way of repaying its debt, incurred when the business tycoons fĳinanced Egal’s scheme for the 1994 militia demobilisation. The loan was paid back in full in 1999–2000 (Jimcaale 2005: 104). 37 Somaliland’s Finance Minister, Ahmed Silanyo argued that the ban had nothing to do with health concerns. He accused business people in Saudi Arabia of using the RVF outbreak as a pretext to keep the borders shut to protect lucrative livestock imports from Australia and New Zealand (Horn of Africa Bulletin 2/1998). Similar points are suggested by UNDP (2001). 38 It must be added that even during periods when no livestock ban is in vigour, Somaliland’s export is extremely vulnerable. As there was no commercial banking system that could issue letters of credit, the Somali exporters were forced to accept whatever offfers the Saudi buyer made. Exporters send their livestock to Saudi Arabia without any price guarantees. Letters of Credit would serve as price stabilisers: they stipulated the quality and the price of livestock prior to export. If the livestock met the conditions as stipulated in the letter of credit, the exporter would receive the agreed upon price. Through the system of L/Cs a government can control the flow of export to major markets. If a government controls the issuance of L/Cs, it can prevent that the export market is flooded and saturated by opportunistic players who dump their livestock on the market (Gaani 2005: 230). 39 Again, it was suggested that the ban was linked to Saudi business concerns rather than to health considerations. Somaliland denied the Saudi charges, protesting that looking like a proper state 173

The livestock ban threatened to become disastrous for Egal. He needed the money from Berbera to preserve his position by buying peace. Sixty percent of the Somaliland budget still went to the security sector, in particular the payment of demobilised militia who had been incorporated in the National Security Forces (Jimcaale 2005: 102). These payments could not be jeopardized. But even on a less dramatic scale, Egal needed government revenue to buy peace on the diffferent local levels. The Mayor of Hargeysa, for example, mentioned the existence of a “political fund” which under Egal drained a large portion of the income of Hargeysa Municipality. The fund was used to put out conflicts that arose between politicians, their clan constituencies and the government, as well as “politicised clan conflicts” in general.40 Alternative sources of income had to be found, urgently. The Somaliland government decided to increase tax rates and attempted to widen its tax base. In 2001 experiments with income tax started by imposing limited taxation on key members of the business community in an attempt to set a precedent and an example with the intention to expand the policy later on. But more importantly, in order to increase its own scope for bigger revenue, the government in Hargeysa curbed taxation by local authorities. The road checkpoints used by municipal authorities to tax passers-by not only resulted in a loss of government income but also, because of repeated taxation along the roads, goods imported through Berbera became comparatively expensive for the end-users. As a result, traders started to evade Somaliland ports for inland- bound trafffĳic—for example to Ethiopia. Traders had also started to shift commerce to Bossaso on the northeastern coast of Somalia (Jimcaale 2005: 105). Law no. 12, the United Tarifffs for Local Government, which became efffective on 15 April 2000, offfĳicially banned local revenue generating checkpoints. Taxation on the import of goods became the sole prerogative of the central government in Hargeysa. All checkpoints had to be removed, except those which were there for security purposes. In return, the Ministry of Finance would then redistribute 12,5% from collected

livestock exported from Somaliland had not been infected with RVF. Indeed, in early 2001 UNDP and FAO-sponsored veterinary doctors from the United Arab Emirates inspected abattoirs, livestock markets and holding grounds, without fĳinding any evidence that RVF was endemic. Following the investigation, several Gulf States that imported small quantities of livestock from Somaliland lifted the ban—Saudi Arabia did not (UNDP 2001: 98). 40 Hussein Mahmoud, interview, Hargeysa 12/04/2003. 174 chapter six import duties and sales tax to the municipalities (Jimcaale 2005: 106).41 At the same time local governments were required to expand their own local tax base. Local authorities were mandated by the Hargeysa government to levy taxes on sales in local markets, land and buildings, abattoirs, hides and skins, water consumption, farms, berkads (water reservoirs), advertising in public places, as well as registration fees for business transactions, inspection fees for various activities and trade licensing fees (Jimcaale 2005: 107). The government measures aimed at widening its tax base resulted in increased government funds, but only in nominal terms. In real terms, the budget of 2001 was only worth 60% of the 2000 budget (Jimcaale 2005: 102). Nevertheless, the government measures—which were at least partly informed by the budgetary difffĳiculties caused by the livestock ban—had a further centralising efffect in determining that from then forward, budgets of local authorities would be controlled by the central government. Moreover, an important portion of the budgets of local authorities was now provided by the central authority, giving ‘Hargeysa’ dramatically increased leverage over local government.

D. Concluding Remarks

Under the Egal presidency, statehood gradually turned from a relatively inclusive post-war project of actors of all stripes to one primarily pursued by the inner circle that controlled the machinery of government. The efffective displacement of clan elders and clan-based institutions and the complementary centralisation of political power in the hands of Egal’s government in Hargeysa had important implications for the future. First, statehood and the competition for power in that state were no longer mediated or mitigated by structures and actors outside the state realm. The state swallowed the realm of clan elders and institutions and broke it apart. Checks and balances on the acquisition and the exercise of political power broke down. Second, given the centralisation of power and resources in the hands of the Hargeysa government, the stakes in controlling that government rose considerably. Third, centralisation planted

41 Corroborated by Hussein Mahmoud, interview, Hargeysa 12/04/2003. Presumably transfer of the 12.5% and enforcement of the new law happened only in the case of bigger municipalities which were situated on major roads. There is evidence that earlier practices of setting up roadblocks and checkpoints continued to provide an income for the smaller, more isolated municipalities. looking like a proper state 175

Somaliland’s point of gravity clearly in the west, with the Hargeysa-based government. This would have consequences for political developments in the east of the territory which the government claimed as its own. Involvement of eastern regions and clans in Somaliland had been lagging from the start. This delay, combined with evolving geopolitical forces in the region and the particular history of eastern clan elders’ involvement in politics in their region made for an unstable situation in the east and a tenuous relation with the Somaliland government, a problem Egal would not be able to resolve. CHAPTER SEVEN

CLAIMING THE EASTERN BORDERLANDS

After the 1997 Hargeysa Conference, the Somaliland state apparatus consolidated. It deepened, as the state realm displaced governance arrangements overseen by clan elders. And it broadened, as central government control extended geographically from the capital into urban centres such as Borama in the west and Bur’o in the east. In the areas east of Bur’o government was far less present or efffective, especially where non-Isaaq clans traditionally lived. Erigavo, the capital of Sanaag Region, which was shared by the Habar Yunis, the Habar Ja’lo, the Warsengeli and the Dhulbahante, was fĳinally brought under formal government control in 1997, after Egal sent a delegation of nine government ministers originating from the area to sort out local government with the elders and political actors on the ground. After fĳive months of negotiations, the president was able to appoint a Mayor for Erigavo and a Governor for Sanaag.1 But east of Erigavo, in the area inhabited by the Warsengeli, any claim to governance from Hargeysa was just nominal.2 The same was true for most of Sool Region inhabited by the Dhulbahante. Eastern Sanaag and Sool had not been Egal’s priority. The president did not strictly need these regions to be under his military control in order to preserve and consolidate his position politically or in terms of resources. The port of Berbera was vital for the economic survival of the Somaliland government. Erigavo and Las Anod were not. However, because the Somaliland government claimed the borders of the former British protectorate as the borders of Somaliland, Sanaag and Sool had to be seen as under government control. This chapter will look at how president Egal has tried to create that semblance in the case of Sool region by attempting to get Dhulbahante clan elders and other Dhulbahante political actors on his side and under his control.

1 Mohammed Said ‘Gees,’ interview, Hargeysa 06/06/2002. 2 For a more elaborate discussion of the Sanaag case, investigated by Terlinden, see Renders and Terlinden (2010: 741). The discussion in this chapter will be focused mostly on Sool region where I carried out my fĳield research. 178 chapter seven

A. The Dhulbahante and Somaliland

In Sool, popular support for an independent Somaliland has certainly not been unanimous. In part this is due to political tensions that have lingered since the war between the SNM and the Dhulbahante militia, which had sided with Siyyad Barre’s national army. While clan conflicts could be resolved by the elders of the concerned clans and without the interference of any state authority, conflicts like this, on the level of state politics, were not so easily resolved. The political relation between the SNM and the Dhulbahante became mediated by one of their most senior elders, but lacking the popular Dhulbahante mandate and the necessary leverage on the ground, his involvement did not bring the Dhulbahante in.

1.1. The Secession Visiting Sool in the Spring of 2002, I was told that the driver who would help me get around in Las Anod was actually one of Siyyad Barre’s former drivers. He was probably not the only one. As the clan of one of Barre’s sons-in-law, the Dhulbahante had been part of the MOD-alliance, the clan-based political stronghold of the former military regime. Some Dhulbahante had been part of the president’s inner power circle. For example, the head of the National Security Service, one of the most powerful men during the military regime, had been a Dhulbahante (Höhne 2006: 405). Sool region also boasted quite an impressive number of Barre’s ex-ministers, ex-ambassadors, ex-generals, ex-security service personnel and other former employees of the Barre regime who had had to flee Mogadishu under pressure of the Hawiye militia in 1991. During the war between SNM and Siyyad Barre, the Dhulbahante militia fought alongside the SNM-aligned Isaaq militia. However, there was only one Dhulbahante national fĳigure who joined SNM and gained some prominence within the guerrilla force: Yasiin Ahmed Hadji Nur, who, like the Gadabursi’s Abdirahman Aw Ali, became one of the rare non-Isaaq SNM leaders.3 When the SNM took over most of the northwest of Somalia, the representatives of the Dhulbahante agreed to maintain peaceful relations with the Isaaq. A particularly important role in this entente was played by the Dhulbahante paramount elder4, Garaad Abdiqani.

3 Matt Bryden, interview, Bur’o 07/04/2003. 4 The most senior of the ‘titled’ elders, (called garaad as is mostly the case in Sool or ugaas, sultaan or bokor). claiming the eastern borderlands 179

The garaad had been one of the rare SNM supporters among the Dhul- bahante. At one point he even offfered to form a united front with the Isaaq against the Barre regime. Although SNM refused, Garaad Abdiqani remained in close contact with them. After the war his closeness to the SNM lubricated peacemaking between the SNM-aligned Isaaq and the Dhulbahante (ICG 2003b: 28). Clan-based peacemaking between the Isaaq and the Dhulbahante, conducted by elders on the ground, continued successfully up to the regional peace conference in Erigavo in 1993. But while the resulting peace between the Isaaq and the Dhulbahante clans was solid (more solid than the relations between the Isaaq clans), the Dhulbahante’s support for a unifĳied Somaliland was far more tenuous. Up to the 1991 Bur’o Conference at which Somaliland independence was declared, the relationship between Somaliland and the Dhulbahante had been mediated to a considerable extent by Garaad Abdiqani. At Bur’o, Garaad Abdiqani voted in favour of Somaliland independence and secession from Somalia. Unlike the Isaaq and Gadabursi politically active elders, whose guurtis were united in their support of Somaliland independence, the Dhulbahante were divided. There was no Dhulbahante guurti overseeing the Dhulbahante position. Suleiman, the other Dhulba- hante garaad at Bur’o, was heavily opposed to secession and had been a staunch opponent of the SNM and an organizer of the Dhulbahante militia to fĳight against them. He would always maintain that the Bur’o Conference only had been about peace, not about secession (Höhne 2007: 170). By approving Somaliland independence Garaad Abdiqani positioned himself as the main Dhulbahante interlocutor on the Somaliland political scene. But at the same time, because he did not have a Dhulbahante mandate to do so, his actions were seen in Sool as motivated by opportunism. A certain measure of opportunism with regard to Somaliland was generally tolerated by the Dhulbahante clansmen. Two Dhulbahante had been ministers in Somaliland’s fĳirst government under Tuur5, and the circumstance had not been taken as of much concern in Sool: these were jobs which brought an income for those who occupied the posts and did not necessarily represent a political commitment. By supporting Somaliland secession, however, Garaad Abdiqani was taking an action that was unacceptable to most of his Dhulbahante constituency. According to Höhne

5 The former Dhulbahante SNM commander became minister of rural development and livestock. Another Dhulbahante was given the ministry for water and minerals. 180 chapter seven

(2007: 170), his entry into state level politics would in due course eat away much of his legitimacy and capacity to serve as a clan elder.

1.2. Peace but no State In the two years of infĳighting among the Isaaq which followed the founding of Somaliland, the Dhulbahante were minimally involved in Somaliland national-level politics. The intra-Isaaq fĳighting had not afffected Sool at all. Though some people in Sool supported the Somaliland idea, most hoped for a unifĳied Somalia to be reinstated at some point. Because both Somaliland and Somalia existed only in name, the issue did not cause conflict. Although clan elders oversaw basic security and public order, local administration, like the one the Gadabursi elders had set up in Borama under the leadership of the Guurti of 21, remained elusive. In 1992, Dhulbahante intellectuals, businessmen, elders and titled elders gathered at Bo’ane to set up a regional administration. Reportedly, a regional 40-member Central Committee was formed, with a chairman and diffferent portfolios, such as agriculture and natural resources. Yet, the khusuusi, as local people called it, never took offf. Reasons for this were many according to accounts: the buildings designated to house the new administration were inhabited by refugees, and no one was in a position to evict them; the businessmen who participated in forming the administration were not interested in sustaining a local administration and refused to provide money or pay taxes.6 Most importantly, however, barely one month after their appointment most of the people on the khusuusi accepted the invitation to attend the Borama Conference in Somaliland and they simply left without consulting anyone on the position they were to take as Dhulbahante representatives at the conference. Many allegedly even stayed away to become ministers or directors general in Hargeysa ministries.7 Crucially however, at Borama the relation between Garaad Abdiqani and Somaliland soured because a Gadabursi politician, rather than a Dhulbahante, won the Somaliland vice presidency (ICG 2003b: 28). Throughout the 1992–1993 intra-Isaaq war, the Dhulbahante successfully negotiated peace deals with Isaaq clans, though their inclusion at a political level did not develop. The Erigavo conference, which tied all the little peace conferences together and immediately followed the Borama

6 Yusuf Buraale, interview, Las Anod 18/06/2002. 7 Director SVO, interview, Las Anod 19/06/2002. claiming the eastern borderlands 181

Conference, was not a ‘political’ conference, even though it aimed at installing a regional administration (which never happened). The Soma- liland government was explicitly asked not to get involved with the proceedings. President Egal, newly elected at Borama, did not insist. For, soon after the Borama conference, a fresh conflict broke out between Isaaq competitors for power, confronting Egal with more pressing matters than expanding the realm of the state eastward. This attitude changed, however, as soon as that very intra-Isaaq conflict strengthened his administration in terms of fĳinance and resources, political legitimacy and focus for national identity. Egal was then able more forcefully to try expanding the influence of the Somaliland state into Dhulbahante lands. At the Hargeysa Conference, a conflict arose between Egal and the paramount Dhulbahante elder. Egal, fĳirmly in control of the Hargeysa conference, publicly snubbed Garaad Abdiqani by having his list of proposed candidates for parliamentary seats rejected by the Conference’s chairing committee. Egal replaced Abdiqani’s list by his own selection of Dhulbahante candidates for parliament. In response, Abdiqani removed his support for Egal, and by extension, Somaliland, taking with him the (potential) support of other Dhulbahante elders as well (ICG 2003b: 28).8 Abdiqani would later declare that at the 1991 Bur’o Conference he simply had not had any other choice than to vote in favour of Somaliland secession, implying that at the time he had not done so wholeheartedly (Höhne 2009: 258). Undeterred, Egal started deploying Somaliland personnel to Sool. He also enlisted Sool-based Dhulbahante to work as mayors, governors and police commanders and thus established a skeleton Somaliland state presence in the region. But Somaliland was no longer alone claiming Sool.

B. Competing State Claims

The years prior to the 1997 Hargeysa Conference had seen an important shift in international involvement with the wider Somali crisis. In March 1995 UNOSOM II pulled out, overcome by the complexity of the political and military situation on the ground, as well as by the complexity of the operation itself. The UN did continue some of its involvement with Somalia, but it no longer pursued direct diplomatic or political action to broker a national peace deal between the warring parties, as it had done

8 Hassan Hiss, interview, Hargeysa 10/04/2003. 182 chapter seven at the conference in Addis Ababa in 1993.9 The diplomatic and political initiative was henceforth left to the state governments who had already sought to play important political roles in the UNOSOM II intervention, notably Ethiopia and Egypt. The same geopolitical interests that had motivated those governments to seek a stake in UNOSOM II now tainted their initiatives to address the Somali issue on their own. The political interests of Ethiopia and Egypt (with Arab allies such as Libya and Yemen) were in fact diametrically opposed. Ethiopia wanted to avoid the Somali war spilling over into its own territory. At the same time, a strong Somalia would be a threat: Ethiopia had been at war with Somalia several times, and in the past the Somali government had supported more than one Ethiopian opposition movement. Egypt, on the other hand, had an interest in a very strong Somali state which would keep Ethiopia from controlling Egypt’s lifeline, the river Nile (Healy 2008). The direct diplomatic involvement of these two international stakeholders in the Somali conflict led to a new series of national Somali peace conferences, each one of which failed. Whereas the political fallout of these failures would have limited impact in Somaliland’s heartland, it would have more serious implications for politically unstable regions, such as Sool, by making more and deeper divisions between local political actors, including the titled clan elders.

2.1. The Foundation of the Puntland State of Somalia The fĳirst initiative for a Somali national peace conference was taken by Ethiopia. Soon after, it was countered by an initiative from Yemen and Egypt. Neither initiative, informed by the respective parties’ own interests, led to a workable Somali state or a credible Somali government. As a response, local political actors in Northeast Somalia, adjacent to and partly overlapping with the territory claimed by Somaliland, founded their own administration. Ethiopia’s conference was organised in Sodere (Ethiopia), under the aegis of the Intergovernmental Authority for Development (IGAD), a regional inter-governmental agency including Somalia and its frontline states (Ethiopia, Djibouti, Kenya, Sudan, Uganda and Eritrea).10

9 UN involvement was transferred to the United Nations Political Offfĳice for Somalia (UNPOS) to be based in Nairobi. 10 IGAD had been set up in the 1980s as the Intergovernmental Authority for Drought and Development (IGADD), a governmental body that aimed to improve food security in the Horn of Africa. In the 1990s, however, IGAD evolved to a body that concerned itself claiming the eastern borderlands 183

The conference, however, was strongly steered by the Ethiopian government. Allegedly, Ethiopia’s purpose was to create an alliance of Ethiopia- friendly factions in order to legitimize Ethiopian military access to Somali soil. Ethiopian access would allow that government to destroy the Somali bases of an Islamist militia group called Al-Itihaad al-Islami which it accused of attacking government targets inside Ethiopia (Interpeace s.d.: 14).11 The Sodere conference was attended by 41 Somali leaders representing 26 armed factions (Interpeace s.d.: 14). However, one of the most notori- ous warring factions in Mogadishu, the Aideed faction of the Hawiye- based United Somali Congress (USC), boycotted the talks.12 Ethiopia accused Aideed of collaborating with Al-Itihaad al-Islami, and Aideed’s refusal to participate in Sodere undid any hope for the establishment of a viable Somali government. As far as Egypt and the Arab states were concerned, the Sodere talks threatened to form a new government alliance in Mogadishu in which the Ethiopian government would have an important stake. As a response to the Sodere Conference, the Yemeni government therefore tried to mediate between Aideed and other faction leaders, in order to try and get the Aideed faction in. Then, in 1997 the Egyptian government convened a meeting in Cairo between the Sodere and Aideed factions (Brons 2001: 270). The Sodere process was efffectively squandered there, when some faction leaders central to the process pulled out. The Cairo conference thus neutralised the Ethiopian peace initiative and claims to legitimate Ethiopian intervention on Somali soil. However, it achieved nothing in terms of Somali state-making. The failure of the Sodere and Cairo talks nevertheless prompted the creation of a number of local governance initiatives throughout Somalia. The single most successful of those initiatives emerged in the Northeast, which was never considered the most alluring of Somali regions. During Siyyad Barre’s military regime it was almost a punishment for Somali civil

with the wars in Sudan and Somalia respectively. Consequently the body extended its mandate to include peacemaking. Eritrea suspended its membership in 2007. 11 I will not dwell on al-Itihaad al islami or other islamist groups and their involvement in the Somali conflict here. I have addressed early Islamist presence in Somaliland in other publications, including Renders (2007). 12 After the death earlier that year of its leader Mohamed Farah Aideed, whom the US troops so relentlessly pursued, the faction was now under the leadership of Hussein Aideed, his son. Ironically, Hussein Aideed was a former US marine who had participated in Operation Restore Hope. 184 chapter seven servants to be posted to these isolated and arid fĳield stations (Farah 2001b: 26). State personnel were paid hardship allowances. Since the fall of the Barre government, the Northeast was controlled by the Majeerteen- based Somali Salvation Democratic Front (SSDF) under the command of Colonel Abdillahi Yusuf. Like its northwestern pendant, the Isaaq-based SNM, the SSDF enjoyed wide public endorsement as a guerrilla organisation. However, it was more a military organisation than the SNM had been. Despite the existence of internal rifts between diffferent clan-based political factions within SSDF, the guerrilla force had always been under the fĳirm control of its commander. Yet, just like the SNM, the SSDF was unable to make any progress building functional political institutions for the area it controlled militarily. In February and March 1998 civic and political leaders throughout the Northeast started working toward the convocation of a local constitutional conference that was supposed to establish an administration for the region. The proceedings included elders, businessmen, intellectuals, military offfĳicers, as well as politicians, some of whom belonged to diffferent factions of the SSDF. Other participants in the proceedings belonged to the United Somali Party (USP), a political organisation that, in contrast to SNM and SSDF, was founded after the collapse of the Somali state. USP was Dhulbahante/Warsengeli-based and, as a political organisation opposed to Somaliland secession, had been supported by UNOSOM II in the early 1990s (Farah 2001b: 21). The constitutional conference itself, held in Garowe, was restricted to the clan elders of the northeast. Neither politicians nor military leaders participated. It was attended not only by the clan elders of the Majeerteen, who inhabited the SSDFcontrolled regions of Bari, Nugal and Northern Mudug, But also by clan elders from regions claimed by the Somaliland government. Indeed, the Warsengeli inhabiting eastern Sanaag and clan elders from the Dhulbahante in Sool attended in great numbers. In July 1998 the constitutional conference proclaimed the autonomous “Puntland State of Somalia,” comprising regions inhabited by Majeerteen, Warsengeli and Dhulbahante. Unlike Somaliland, however, Puntland had no intention of seceding from Somalia. Newly founded Puntland considered itself part of a future rebuilt and unifĳied Somali Republic. The Puntland administration would be incorporated into the new Somali state, if and when the situation in Mogadishu cleared. Also in contrast to Somaliland, the elders conference that founded Puntland devised a state structure and governing institutions that had no institutionalized role for clan elders. Puntland was to be ruled by a one-chamber 69-member parliament and a claiming the eastern borderlands 185 strong executive president. Abdillahi Yusuf was appointed Puntland’s fĳirst president for a transitional period of two years, after which a proper constitution and fresh elections would establish legitimate governance for the autonomous state (Farah 2001b: 21). To the Dhulbahante, Puntland in principle seemed a viable alternative to Somaliland. Although the Dhulbahante had traditionally been more oriented towards the Isaaq clans in the West, on the Somaliland political scene the Dhulbahante were and would always be a minority (Höhne 2006: 108). In Puntland, on the other hand, the Dhulbahante were granted generous representation in parliament and state structures. Apart from a substantial portion of parliamentary seats, the Dhulbahante secured the positions of vice president and the Minister of the Interior in the fĳirst Puntland government. Furthermore, many Dhulbahante, especially among Barre’s former supporters in Sool, opposed Somaliland secession. In terms of Dhulbahante clan politics as well, secession was a bad idea. Looking at the situation of Somalia at large, the Harti clans, of which the Dhulbahante were part, would constitute a considerable power bloc in a future resurrected Somali state, however distant that future was. In spite of this conditional Dhulbahante political support for Puntland, a functional state apparatus in Sool remained elusive. Soon after the conference the new Puntland president, supported by fĳinancial resources from his long-term patron Ethiopia, set out to install a Puntland police force in the main towns and to clear the roads of clan militias and their checkpoints. The militiamen were integrated in Puntland’s newly formed security forces. The Puntland government also sent mayors, governors, police commanders and representatives of line ministries to all Puntland regions, including Sool and Sanaag. As a result, towns in Sool now had a Somaliland mayors and Puntland mayors, Somaliland-aligned police and Puntland-aligned police, etc. These state structures coexisted peacefully. Members of the same family, even cousins or brothers, could be working for opposite two sides—for example, as policemen at Somaliland and Puntland checkpoints. Local accounts indicated that the arrangement was not seen as problematic—people were it was just performing a job to earn an income, without its reflecting their or their community’s political allegiance. Thus, neither Somaliland nor Puntland had full political or military control over Sool. Indeed, several armed groups were active in the region. Besides the Somaliland militia, which was active up to Gumeis (west of Las Anod), and the Puntland militia, active up to Las Anod itself, there still existed some Dhulbahante clan militias. Belonging to neither 186 chapter seven

Puntland or Somaliland, these military groups were apparently sustained by support from Ethiopia as part of its policy to contain the Al-Itihaad Islamist militias which were also active in the region. Finally, ‘freelance militias’ or armed thugs roamed the countryside acting on their own independent initiative (Forberg and Terlinden 1999: 19).13

2.2. The Arta Conference and the Transitional National Government (TNG) The creation of Puntland (and other sub-national Somali governance arrangements) and the existence of Somaliland as a small Somali entity claiming outright independence suited the Ethiopian strategy aimed at preventing the emergence of a large, powerful Somali state on its eastern flank. The Ethiopian government successfully sold this approach to the international community. The policy, which became known as the “building-blocks approach,” was for Somalia’s donors and neighbouring states to encourage the formation of regional administrations to serve as building blocks for an eventual Somali-wide reconciliation and state organisation. The future national Somali government thus could be formed by negotiations between functioning regional administrations, as opposed to armed factions not necessarily enjoying popular legitimacy (ICG 2002a: 3). Although this policy looked perfectly sensible on paper, it was clear to Egypt and the other Arab states that it mainly served Ethiopia’s purposes. Because they wanted a strong Somali state, not a fragmented one,14 a new peace conference—this time dominated again by Egypt and the Arab states—produced yet another Somali transitional government. The Arta conference, organised by Djibouti’s president, Omar Guelleh, and backed by Egypt and the United Nations, was the fĳirst serious-looking peace conference since the failure of the 1997 Cairo Conference. Elated at Guelleh’s initiative, Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD), the Organisation of African Unity (OAU), the Arab League, the Organisation of the Islamic Conference and the European Union, declared their support for the initiative as well. Held at Arta in Djibouti, the conference broke the practice of bringing together faction leaders and trying

13 International NGO worker, interview, Las Anod 22/06/2002; Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/1998. 14 This vision was shared by the main political actors in Mogadishu. They were well aware that the spoils of government would be much more generous if Mogadishu would again become the capital of a Somali central government, rather than merely the seat of some local political arrangement. claiming the eastern borderlands 187 to get them to share power. Instead, the proceedings included clan elders, businessmen, civic leaders, and even women and minorities. Eventually, some 2,000 to 2,500 delegates gathered at Arta.15 In August 2001 they adopted a Transitional Charter and elected a 225 member Somali Transitional National Assembly (TNA). The Djiboutian president had a heavy hand in the proceedings and managed to win the prerogative of personally appointing 20 members to this transitional parliament (Anonymous 2002: 253). The Darod, Hawiye, Rahanweyn and Dir (including the Isaaq) clan families were each granted 44 seats, with a further 24 for the category ‘minorities’ and 25 for the category ‘women.’ As the Arta Conference proceeded, prominent members of the Barre regime came to play increasingly important roles, as did other faction leaders, including the Generals Gani and Morgan.16 The TNA elected Abdiqasim Salad Hassan of the Hawiye/Habar Gedir/Ayr lineage as Transitional president. Abdiqasim had been a long- standing minister under Siyyad Barre. Replicating previous patterns, President Abdiqasim positioned the Transitional National Government (TNG) squarely in the sphere of Arab-Islamic patronage. Immediately after its installation, the Saudi government provided the TNG with a grant to pay, arm and equip its security forces. The Saudi money was supplemented by funds from Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, Yemen and Libya.17 These Arab donations were the TNG’s only source of hard currency, since, despite diplomatic support the UN, UN and EU were not forthcoming with material aid to the TNG as it was increasingly associated with Al-Itihaad al-Islami fĳigures and the emerging Islamic Courts set up by local businessmen in Mogadishu (Le Sage 2002).18

15 Some of the came and left again, others came late, they were not all there all of the time. 16 Both had an infamous reputation in Hargeysa as they had been in charge of anti- Isaaq government operations in the area under the Barre regime 17 Details or evidence of possible further funding are missing, as the Arab governments did not release transparent reporting about their support. ICG (2002a) cites an article in the New York Times which mentions a total of 25 million USD Arab funding through February 2002. Le Sage (2002) mentions 15 million USD (in two instalments) in mid-2001 (Saudi money) and a 2.5 million USD donation from Libya in February 2002. 18 The weight of Islamist influence was reflected in the composition of the Transitional National Assembly: according to ICG, approximately one quarter of the 245 members were associated with Islamist associations including al-Itihaad, which had about a dozen members of parliament who were publicly afffĳiliated with it. The TNG’s fĳirst security committee in Mogadishu included several known al-Itihaad members, the editor of the government newspaper had been member of al-Itihaad (ICG 2002: 18). The ‘Islamist’ businessmen have provided the TNG members a range of services such as houses, hotel 188 chapter seven

Ethiopia saw its worst fears come true in the outcome of the Arta process, and soon after the conference, Addis Ababa began supporting an emerging anti-TNG opposition. The Hawiye/Habar Gedir/Ayr lineage- based core of the TNG gave rise to an equally clan-based opposition of factions and administrations, very loosely united under the umbrella of the Somali Reconciliation and Restoration Council (SRRC), the constituent parts of which did not have much in common except for their Ethiopian patron who provided them with political and military support.19 One of the SRRC’s leaders was Ethiopia’s trusted ally, Puntland’s Abdillahi Yusuf. Although Somaliland was not part of the SRRC (or the proceedings at Arta), Ethiopia also began to increase its support to the Somaliland government. Because of Eritrea’s independence in 1993, Somaliland’s main port, Berbera, had become Ethiopia’s only potential sea-outlet that was not under Arab control. In July 2000 (during the Arta Conference) Djibouti relinquished the management of the Djibouti harbour to an Arab company, Dubai Ports International (Anonymous 2002: 256). The Arta Conference and its fallout afffected the building blocks in the North. Somaliland had boycotted the Arta process altogether. There were Isaaq and Gadabursi delegates at Arta, but, like many of the delegates of other clans, they had come at their own initiative and expense.20 Some delegates who participated as representatives of Somaliland or one of the Somaliland clans were arrested upon return to Hargeysa (UNCHR 2001). In the Somaliland heartland, the political efffect of Arta and the resulting TNG remained limited. A Somaliland national identity and sense of rooms, offfĳice and home furnishings and foodstufffs as well as vehicles and security services. Their (private) militia engaged in battles with ‘warlords’ opposed to the TNG (Le Sage 2002; ICG 2005b, 2010). 19 Notably Abdillahi Yusuf’s Puntland Administration, a portion of the Rahanweyn Resistance Army, Hussein Aideed’s Hawiye/Habar Gedir/Sa’ad militia, General Mohammed Sayid Hirsi Morgan and his Mijerteen militia in Bakool, Mohammed Dhere and his Hawiye/Abgal/Warsengeli clan militia and the Biimaal clan in Merka and Lower Jubba (Menkhaus 2003: 12). The RRA had been split by the Arta process: one wing joined the TNG, the other joined the SRRC—neither of them seemed to be able to muster enough public support among their clansmen to prevail over the other. The SRRC had a rotating chairmanship with fĳive co-chairmen and a government-like structure with ‘secretaries,’ ‘portfolio’s’ etc. There was very little cohesion as to the leadership and the programme of SSRC (Bryden 2001). 20 In spite of the offfĳicial propaganda, many of the clan delegates were in fact self- appointed, travelling to Djibouti on their own initiative, at their own expenses or sponsored by a fĳinancial backer they had been able to convince. Many delegates came from the Somali Diaspora in Europe and the United States (Matt Bryden, interview, Nairobi 18/01/2002; Lewis 2002). claiming the eastern borderlands 189 statehood had developed there and was not so easily weakened. On the other hand, in Puntland-claimed territories (including Eastern Sanaag and Sool) the efffect of the Arta process was more intense, as it exacerbated the conflict between Abdillahi Yusuf and his opposition. Initially, Puntland had been represented at Arta by a strong delegation of 21 senior elders and government representatives, led by the Puntland Dhulbahante vice president. Yet, when it became clear that Abdillahi Yusuf’s expectations regarding power-sharing would not be met at Arta, the Puntland administration withdrew its support. While government representatives and supporters returned to Garowe, the opposition supporters stayed on, and obtained concessions regarding power-sharing (additional seats in the Transitional National Assembly). In addition, the post of TNG Prime Minister was given to a Dhulbahante from Sool. In the end, the Puntland opposition joined the Arab-backed Transitional National Government in Mogadishu, and the Puntland Administration joined the Ethiopian-backed Somali Reconciliation and Restoration Council (SRRC) (Farah 2002: 8). In Puntland, opposition politicians challenged the position of Abdillahi Yusuf, whose transitional mandate was now running out. Yusuf clinged to power, arguing that the transitional period had been too short for the government to fulfĳil the tasks it had been assigned at the Constitutional Conference in 1998. By convening a makeshift conference of clan elders, ministers and parliamentarians, Yusuf succeeded in extending his term of offfĳice. The opposition, arguing that Yusuf ’s conference and extension were illegal, sought the support of an alternative set of clan elders and voted in a new president for Puntland, Jama Ali Jama. The new president had his power base in a diffferent Majeerteen clan and in a diffferent political faction. For his part, Abdillahi Yusuf labelled the competing Puntland president as TNG-supported and therefore as Al-Itihaad sympathisers.21

21 According to allegations relayed by one source (EU offfĳicer, interview, Nairobi 16/01/02), Jama Ali Jama had been paid 50.000–100.000 USD by people close to the TNG in return for his challenging Abdillahi Yusuf—who was hostile to the TNG. Le Sage (2005) as well points to the involvement of al-Itihaad al-Islami in Puntland’s ‘constitutional crisis.’ Although Jama Ali Jama was not at all an ‘Islamist’ politician, but just another ex-Somali army colonel with political ambitions, al-Itihaad gave massive support to his candidacy. In order to stand a chance, Jama was forced to accept Islamist patronage. Allegedly, the conference that elected Jama was heavily and efffectively steered by al-Itihaad (interview UN offfĳicer, Nairobi 17/01/02). It had the double efffect of weakening the Puntland position against the TNG in Mogadishu and of reinforcing al-Itihaad’s political position in the region. Al-Itihaad skilfully used the Puntland crisis to get its key intellectuals, businessmen and sympathisers manoeuvred into clan authority structures (Le Sage 2005). 190 chapter seven

In response, Ethiopian troops crossed the border to militarily assist Abdillahi Yusuf against Jama Ali Jama’s militia, until the latter was forced to retreat to his home base, Puntland’s port town Bossaso (Farah 2002: 17). Sool Region and the Dhulbahante were at that juncture within the constituencies of not less than 4–5 claimants to power in the region: the Somaliland administration, Abdillahi’s Puntland administration, and, to a lesser extent, Jama’s Puntland administration-cum-Al-Itihaad and the TNG government formed in Djibouti.

C. Shifting Sands and Loose Ends

In the absence of meaningful political and military control in Sool, the Puntland government, the Somaliland government (and to an extent the Puntland opposition) directed an important part of their effforts toward incorporating, or at least winning and keeping, the allegiance of clan elders in the region. For Somaliland, as we have seen, the attachment of Sool (and Eastern Sanaag) was (and is) important in support of its claims to international recognition. Control over Sool and Sanaag were important to Puntland’s Abdillahi Yusuf in support of a united Somalia. By sabotaging the integration of Sool and Sanaag into Somaliland’s colonial borders, Yusuf tried to prevent Somaliland’s secession (Höhne 2006: 410). To achieve their opposed ends, both the Somaliland and Punt- land governments (and the Puntland opposition) bought the support of politically active clan elders. As the clan elders became increasingly perceived as ‘politicised,’ they lost popular legitimacy, making for even more political fragmentation as clan segments split up along political lines. In turn, clan conflicts that were originally not part of national politics politicised as well. As a result, local peacemaking became more difffĳicult and peace deals that did emerge were less stable. Finally, prospects of any kind of governance beyond basic peace keeping (delivered by either the elders or the Somaliland or Puntland administrations) became very precarious in Sool, a region that already was one of the least developed of the Somali lands.

3.1. The Titled Elders in Politics Throughout the shifting political situation in Sool, many of the politically active elders ran up remarkable political trajectories. A women’s group member in Las Anod recounted Garaad Abdiqani’s political journey as follows: fĳirst Garaad Abdiqani was with Somaliland. Then he took part in the clan conference at Garowe that founded Puntland in 1998. claiming the eastern borderlands 191

He subsequently attended the Arta Conference in Djibouti as part of the Puntland delegation. When the Puntland government quit the Arta process and the opposition stayed on, Abdiqani joined the government group and returned with them to Puntland. Abdiqani then participated in the conference organised by the Puntland elders who were hostile to Abdillahi Yusuf and participated in voting Jama Ali Jama into power. When Yusuf forced Jama to retreat to Bossaso, Abdiqani became more positive toward Somaliland again.22 At home, among the Dhulbahante, Garaad Abdiqani became seen as a ‘politician,’ a category that in Sool was not held in very high esteem. Indeed, politicians were despised as generally self-interested, short- sighted, irresponsible and detrimental to the community. This attitude stood in sharp contrast with the way titled clan elders, like Garaad Abdiqani, were traditionally supposed to act as protectors and unifĳiers of their communities. Traditionally, garaads had no formal power over their clansmen. They represented rather than led the clan. Decisions were made on the level of elders’ committees, who brought their decisions to the garaad. The garaad then ratifĳied the collective decisions, rather than making decisions himself.23 Yet, “in the absence of a Somali government,” a local former politician said, “Garaads have become decision makers.”24 As a result, lineages have started splitting along political lines. The garaads’ traditional constituencies did not always support their political views; nor did they always support the idea that their garaad should have political views at all. Moreover, ever-more competing, politically active clan elders emerged who aimed to rise to the profĳitable status of garaad. In due course, this made for an unprecedented fragmentation of traditional leadership. While in 1991 there were four Dhulbahante titled elders in Sool, by 2005 there were as many as fourteen because for politically active clan elders and their associates a tested method to win political and material benefĳit the local context of scarcity was to establish a new garaad lineage. As these new lineages were established, both the Somaliland and the Puntland administrations sent their ‘special envoys’ with favours in order to win the new garaad’s allegiance.25 The garaads would accept the gifts and see whether the other side offfered more. In some cases when agaraad

22 Women’s group member, interview, Las Anod 22/06/2002. 23 Chairman Somali welfare society, interview, Las Anod 16/06/2002. 24 Basha Ali Jama, interview, Las Anod 17/06/2002. 25 Yasin Hadji Mahamed, interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003; Basha Ali Jama, interview, Las Anod 17/06/2002. This was also confĳirmed by other interviews conducted in Las Anod, and by Höhne (2005b). 192 chapter seven turned to the other side, the special envoys stirred conflict within the subclan and convinced a cousin to split the lineage by becoming a garaad himself. In this case the subclan ended up divided, with one garaad and his associates in favour of Somaliland and the other and his associates in favour of Puntland.26 Remarkably, cases have been reported where the lineage did not even split, but where two competing garaads who were close relatives claimed exactly the same constituency, one backed by Puntland and the other by Somaliland (Höhne 2007: 172). The new garaads did not have the old, respected, long lineages that the original titled elders, such as Garaad Abdiqani, had. They were sometimes mockingly referred to as “Taiwaan,” meaning “something from Taiwan,” implicitly meaning cheap, second rate goods. Many were former businessmen, military offfĳicers or politicians. Others were the sons ofakils who had promoted themselves. The vita of Garaad Abshir, one of the Dhulbahante garaads I spoke with in Las Anod, was illustrative of the peculiar careers of some new garaads in Sool. Garaad Abshir explained that he had been a police colonel who used to be posted in Mogadishu. His father and grandfather were akils. After training in Great Britain, which he started in 1963, Abshir went on to become the chief of Somalia’s Criminal Investigations Department in Hargeysa. Seven years later he became Police Commander in the Northwest. Later he became provincial governor in Bur’o, and fĳinally he was assigned to Mogadishu until the fall of the regime. Three years after the collapse of the Somali state, as a son from an akil-lineage, he was elevated to the position of garaad of his subclan of the Dhulbahante Then, as a garaad, Abshir joined the political game in Sool, participating in the foundation of Puntland at Garowe and after the Arta Conference becoming a member of the Mogadishu-based Transitional National Assembly (TNA) under president Abdiqassim.27

3.2. The Impact of Elders’ Loss of Legitimacy Because they had become so politicised, the garaads of the Dhulbahante gradually lost the legitimacy and the authority they needed to perform their traditional tasks and to deal with clan conflicts in a productive and

26 Dhulbahante professional living in Hargeysa, interview, Hargeysa 30/06/2002. 27 Garaad Abshir, interview, Las Anod 16/06/2002. In September 2000, on his return from Arta, Abshir was arrested in Berbera by the Somaliland police on charges of high treason against Somaliland. He was sentenced to seven years imprisonment, but later was pardoned by Egal, taken to the Oog checkpoint and given a car to go to back to Las Anod (interview women’s group member, Las Anod 22/06/2002). claiming the eastern borderlands 193 constructive way. Garaads however could not readily be bypassed. They remain political factor which in Sool worked against stability and state formation rather than for it (like it did in case of the Isaaq and the Gadabursi). To many Dhulbahante it was clear that their garaads worked only for their own interests and those of a limited number of immediate associates. Yet, even when a garaad worked against the interest of the clan, no clan member could openly work against his garaad. Several times interviewees reported that “people support their garaad because they think God will punish them if they do not.”28 Going against the garaad was culturally and politically unacceptable, even for politicians and intellectuals. Moreover, the garaads had become important gatekeepers, “the doors where everyone comes through.”29 If an international donor agency wanted to start a project, they would always have to seek consent from the local garaad fĳirst. The fact that one could not go against the garaad complicated clan relations and peacemaking among the Dhulbahante clans in Sool. Because of the political involvement of the garaads in the conflict over control of Sool between Puntland and Somaliland, all conflicts became more difffĳi- cult to solve in the traditional way. As I have indicated in the case of early peacemaking between the Isaaq and the non-Isaaq, conflict resolution and peacemaking had succeeded because it was taken down to clan level, where the parties to the conflict deferred the high politics aspects of it. The same was true for grassroots, elder-initiated peacemaking between the Habar Ja’lo and the Habar Yunis after the 1994–1995 conflict in Bur’o. Whereas in these instances politics were ‘taken out,’ the disputes, in the case of Dhulbahante infĳighting, the conflict between Somaliland and Puntland was ‘put in’ and could not be deferred, as it became part and parcel of the conflict through the political positions taken by the Dhulbahante garaads. Some garaads did play a constructive role in Sool, but apparently only in cases when they remained detached from any state claim. Höhne (2007: 173) provides the example of the local garaad in the border town of Buhoodle. Tucked away in a remote area on the border with Ethiopia, the region was far from the political wrangling of Las Anod. The area teemed with disputes and incidents between herders over pastoral resources, as

28 Chairman Somali Welfare Society, interview, Las Anod 16/06/2002; and Yasin Hadji Mahamed, interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. 29 Chairman Somali Welfare Society, interview, Las Anod 16/06/2002. 194 chapter seven well as conflicts related to the general instability subsequent to state collapse. The garaad of the area stayed aloof from these conflicts and had them handled by clan elders or akils of the concerned subclans. His role remained limited to the traditional one of ratifying the decisions that elders had reached after negotiations between them. As a result, local residents claimed, Buhoodle was a stable place. Deeply involved in the competition for political power the Dhulbahante garaads in Sool were profoundly divided among themselves. They had lost legitimacy and the capability of fulfĳilling their traditional roles of making peace and representing the clan. Failing legitimacy, they were also unable to fĳill a role in any emerging state, as the clan elders of the Isaaq and the Gadabursi had done. Despite the generous bribes offfered to the increasing numbers of Dhulbahante garaads by Somaliland and Puntland, neither power made decisive progress in incorporating Sool. In Las Anod, I was told more than once that the garaads did not really want any state to take root, as it would afffect their positions as gatekeepers and benefĳiciaries of the attempts at bribery from the respective competing administrations. “The garaads are the new warlords here,” someone said.30

D. Concluding Remarks

To the governments of Somaliland and Puntland, Sool was peripheral. Since neither of them depended on the region for their government income, neither spent anything on building local infrastructure. Nor did they direct any services there (for example, those that could have been provided by international NGOs). Sool remained the “isolated and inaccessible” place it had reputedly been, even under Barre’s military regime (Farah 2001b: 26). In Hargeysa, Sool’s Dhulbahante were peripheral as a political power base, and although in Puntland’s capital Garowe they had more leverage in government, the future existence of both the Somaliland and Puntland administrations in Sool appeared very uncertain (Renders and Terlinden 2010: 741). To both Yusuf and Egal, the region was of vital importance in strategic terms. Egal needed Sool eastern Sanaag (inhabited by the Warsengeli) to make his case for statehood. Without Sool and eastern Sanaag, the bid lost

30 Yasin Hadji Mahamed, interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003; Basha Ali Jama, interview, Las Anod 17/06/2002; and ‘Shurkri,’ interview, Las Anod 22/06/2003. claiming the eastern borderlands 195 its legitimacy according to international law, because the claim for Somaliland’s independence was presented as a negation of the 1960 union between the two formerly independent polities: the British Protectorate of Somaliland and the Italian Trust Territory of Somalia.31 Yusuf, for his part, needed Sool to undo Egal’s case for statehood, because he aimed for the presidential palace in Mogadishu rather than merely the presidential compound in Garowe. Incorporating the Dhulbahante into the Puntland project served to kill the legitimacy of Somaliland independence and preserve the territorial integrity of Somalia. To be seen as controlling Sool, both Egal and Yusuf tried to buy the allegiance of as many Dhulbahante titled clan elders and politicians as possible. According to Höhne (2009: 266), the result was that the Dhulbahante ended up convinced that they were not taken seriously by either Puntland or Somaliland, that they were not properly or legitimately represented in the state structures of either government: to both Puntland and Somaliland the Dhulbahante became an “insecure constituency.” In any case, the continual solicitation and bribing of Dhulbahante garaads appears to have to a large extent destroyed their legitimacy and therefore, their capacity to enact their traditional role of peacemakers. The conse- quent instability made prospects for building functional government structures in Sool either by Puntland or Somaliland even more distant.

31 As outlined in chapter 1, the former Protectorate had been an independent country for six days in 1960 before voluntarily entering the union. It entered the union as an independent state and consequently should now have the possibility to quit it as an independent state, or so the argument goes. CHAPTER EIGHT

EGAL’S POLITICAL AND INSTITUTIONAL TAILPIECE

The Djibouti-organized Arta Conference and its outcome, the formation of the Transitional National Government (TNG) under Abdiqassim, caused increased divisiveness and instability in Puntland and in the disputed regions between Puntland and Somaliland, Sool and Eastern Sanaag. Dhulbahante and Warsengeli politicians and (titled) clan elders, vying for power, remained split and continuously shifting their allegiance between the competing polities claiming the regions. This was not the case in the undisputed regions of Somaliland: in Hargeysa, Bur’o, Berbera or Borama the Arta Conference led to an unprecedented upsurge in Somaliland nationalist fervour. The idea of reunifĳication with Southern Somalia remained deeply unpopular. The (majority) Isaaq population still associated rule from Mogadishu with government oppression, arbitrariness and violence. Furthermore, over time a Somaliland national identity had continued developing and was fĳirmly established by now. Somaliland had grown to look like a state, and it was increasingly appreciated as such in the areas where it appeared present: west of Bur’o people paid for their groceries using Somaliland shillings, trafffĳic was directed by Somaliland police, in Hargeysa’s streets war monuments had been erected glorifying the struggle against unjust rule from Mogadishu. There was a Somaliland government and a national(ist) Somaliland press writing about Somaliland politics (Höhne 2009: 260).1 Following Arta, international recognition of Somaliland’s statehood almost became a national obsession (Bryden 2004: 31). Recognition, however, was not forthcoming. None of the states directly or indirectly involved with the Somali question showed any willingness to recognise Somaliland as an independent state (Shinn 2003: 59). Consid- ering the emphasis the international community put on issues such as good governance and democracy, politicians and the urban educated elite knew that in order to win international recognition, Somaliland

1 Many of the journalists of the writing press were veterans of the war against Barre. 198 chapter eight would have to demonstrate an internationally acceptable system of government, fully participatory and with universal sufffrage. In this chapter I show how the post-Arta boost of Somaliland nationalism and the national obsession with international recognition created the space for Egal to complete what would become his political tailpiece: the transition to a new system of political representation which would fĳinally endow Somaliland with all the institutions a proper state would need in order to ascend to internationally recognised statehood. The circumstances following both the approval of a new constitution which introduced a multi-party system and the run-up to the fĳirst election in Somaliland in over 30 years reveals how the system of clan representation and politics, mediated through clan institutions, had been efffectively dismantled on the level of national politics. This was a signifĳicant part of Egal’s legacy.

A. The Referendum on the Draft Constitution and the Introduction of the Multi-party System

A bone of contention between President Egal and the Somaliland parliament, the new Constitution for Somaliland had been pending since the 1997 Hargeysa Conference. Several drafts had been produced, none of them mutually acceptable. The issue remained up in the air until the foundation of the Transitional National Government and the Puntland administration. Suddenly, after years of foot dragging, Egal pushed through a constitutional draft to submit to popular referendum in an efffort to fend offf external threats to Somaliland and internal opposition charging him with a lack of commitment to the nationalist cause. The draft received overwhelming support in Somaliland’s heartland, surfĳing on a tidal wave of popular Somaliland nationalist sentiment. But there was more to the new constitution than the confĳirmation of Somaliland independence: it baldy introduced a multi-party system. To those outside Egal’s circle of influence, it was clear that this did not create a level playing fĳield but gave Egal a head start.

1.1. Somaliland Nationalism as Political Capital As soon as Egal took over from Tuur’s defunct government at the 1993 Borama Conference, he took up the Somaliland nationalist cause. In public, he declared that the independence of Somaliland was irreversible, instructing the administration to put together an extended argument to egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 199 defend the cause at the international level.2 The Egal government also kept the memories of the war against Siyyad Barre alive as part of Somaliland national history by setting up a local Technical Committee for the Investigation of War Crimes of the Siyyad Barre Regime. The Committee was charged with collecting documentation, taking testimonies, and preserving the sites of mass graves where the regime’s (mostly Isaaq) victims were buried.3 Pursuing a pro-active diplomatic strategy, Egal declared persona non grata NGO offfĳicials and international organisations that in any way cast doubt on Somaliland’s legitimacy or viability. With regard to the 2000 Arta Conference, Egal declared to the Djibouti president that he was in favour of the peace initiative as such, but that he would not support it if the conference produced a Somali government that claimed Somaliland’s territory.4 This nationalist imagery and discourse were important for Egal in order to counter his internal political enemies, who used his mixed nationalist history against him. Egal’s political alliances had shifted throughout his past tenure. Between the 1993 Borama Conference and the 1997 Hargeysa Conference he faced an opposition based in the clan constituency of the ousted former president, Abdirahman Tuur, the Habar Yunis. Tuur and his associates, lured by the UNOSOM II promises of participation in a future Somali government, tried to steer their clansmen toward reunion with Mogadishu in some kind of federalist arrangement. Egal relied on his alliance with the Alan As, the SNM military wing with its stronghold among Habar Ja’lo military and politicians, in order to fĳight offf his Habar Yunis opposition. Then, however, toward the end of the military standofff, Egal started incorporating Habar Yunis hardliners into his power circle and purging it of his former Habar Ja’lo/Alan As allies. These excluded politicians had become Egal’s main opposition. When enquiring in Hargeysa, I found Alan As to be a rather difffuse notion. The former SNM were not particularly popular or liked, but they did have better pedigrees than Egal’s when it came to commitment to the Somaliland cause. Egal’s discourse was known to have hinted at the

2 The efffort fĳinally culminated in the publication of “Somaliland: demand for international recognition” published by the government in 2001. 3 In June 1997 floods in Hargeysa had unearthed a series of mounds. Reportedly, more than 200 bodies were found, bound by the wrist in groups of ten or fĳifteen. They were believed to have been the result of killings committed by the 26th division of the Somali National Army (Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/1997: 22; Reuters 16/06/1997). As pointed out by Bryden (2003), the location of these burial grounds had in fact been known all along. 4 Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/2000: 21. 200 chapter eight possibility, though very distant, that at some point Somaliland would consider coming to some kind of agreement with the South. Such rhetoric, though, was premised on the condition that Somaliland would enter the agreement on its own terms. Most of the population in Somaliland’s Isaaq heartland, resented and disliked this ambiguous position. Egal’s apparent ambiguity on the reunifĳication made him vulnerable to accusations that he was “selling out Somaliland” (Bryden 2003). Egal’s pushing through with the constitutional draft and the constitutional referendum would quell this perception of ambiguity. The new constitution, endorsed by the government and approved by Somaliland’s citizens, would confĳirm Somaliland’s existence as a sovereign and independent state. Pressure to cast a “yes” vote for the constitution was therefore high. Government voter information and education campaigns were designed to achieve this end by emphasising the destruction wrought by Barre’s 1988 attacks on Hargeysa and Bur’o, the mass graves in Hargeysa and the human sufffering caused by landmines placed by the Somali National Army. Campaign broadcasts on Radio Hargeysa were accompa- nied by frequent playing of the Somaliland national anthem and other patriotic songs (IRI 2001: 21).

1.2. The New Constitution The outcome of the referendum on the constitution, held in May 2001, was overwhelming. The draft was endorsed—according to government fĳigures—by 97.9 percent of the votes cast (Bradbury, Abokor and Yusuf 2003: 163). It was clear that most people who voted in favour did so mainly because of its reafffĳirmation of Somaliland’s independence. As expected, voting patterns were radically diffferent in Somaliland’s heartland from these in the eastern regions of Sool and Sanaag where Somaliland allegiance was much less pervasive (IRI 2001: 18). To the overwhelming majority, however, it was not so clear what the new constitution meant for Somaliland’s political system. It signalled the end of clan-based, consensus-based rule, introducing a system of winners and losers. The referendum was the fĳirst occasion for Somalilanders to cast a vote since the last elections under the civilian regime. With only a small minority of people who voted in the elections of the 1960s still alive, few could even recollect how an election was run or what an election could provide. Moreover, several additional challenges arose. One of the most pressing questions was voter eligibility: who exactly would be allowed to vote? Without census data it was not even clear how many people actually lived egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 201 in Somaliland. Without citizenship laws, it was not clear who exactly was a ‘Somalilander.’ ‘Citizenship’ and ‘eligibility,’ not surprisingly, were determined according to patrilineal descent—that is, clan allegiance. The Law of the Referendum on the Constitution stipulated that voting rights would be given to anyone over 18 (male or female) who descended from people residing in Somaliland prior to the 26th of June 1960 (Somaliland’s Independence Day), had all his mental faculties and was not in prison.5 More specifĳically, this meant that voting rights were extended to all members of Somaliland clans, regardless of where they lived.6 With no means of voter identifĳication or voter registration prior to the day of the referendum, the procedure gave polling station committees the prerogative of determining a person’s eligibility to vote.7 In case of doubt, someone’s membership in one of the Somaliland clan families (‘Iise, Gadabursi, Isaaq, Dhulbahante and Warsengeli) was confĳirmed by his elders in front of the polling station committee. It was argued that the chairmen of the polling stations would quite clearly recognize who could claim Somaliland citizenship by their particular accent or Somali dialect. Failing that, voters were allowed to bring their elders to attest to their age and/or citizenship. Once they voted, the voter’s hands were stained with black ink in order to prevent them from voting again. According to the account of the Initiative and Referendum Institute, the proceedings8 were reasonably well and fairly conducted, taking into consideration the huge logistical challenges and budgetary constraints faced by the Somaliland administration. The private observer body calculated that the overall voter turnout had been approximately 66% (IRI 2001: 8, 13). The fĳigure of 34% of eligible voters failing to vote is somewhat misleading. In Sool and eastern Sanaag, voters stayed away from the polls in much larger numbers, because they either did not approve of Somaliland independence or did not have access to polling stations within a reason- able distance because of a lack of security. From the beginning, the

5 Law nr. 16 of 2000. 6 Any other decision would have been hardly possible given the nomadic status of 55% of the population (Ministry of National Planning and Coordination 2000: 8). Many of the members of the Somaliland clans are permanently migrating back and forth between Somaliland and the Somali region of Ethiopia. Dependent on the season, they may be on the Ethiopian or the Somaliland side of the border. Theoretically however, this meant that the president of Djibouti, who is an ‘Iise (one of the Somaliland clans) could presumably have claimed voting rights in Somaliland. 7 Law of the Referendum Art. 7 and Art. 22, 3. 8 As laid out in the Law on the Referendum. 202 chapter eight process was more troubled in Sool than elsewhere. In anticipation of this and to convince local clan leaders to support holding the referendum, members of the Somaliland National Referendum Committee travelled to the region two days before the vote was to be held. Abdulkader Girde, Deputy Speaker of the Somaliland House of Representatives, reportedly met with clan leaders of the Dhulbahante in Sool. Some clan leaders had wanted to postpone the referendum, but eventually it appears to have been agreed that the referendum would take place, but that the clan elders would work to remain neutral. According to the offfĳicial count, 16% voted against the Constitution. Among those who did cast their ballot in Sool. In Las Anod district this fĳigure was as high as 45% (IRI 2001: 18). The lack of enthusiasm among Dhulbahante voters did not suppress the festive mood in the other regions, notably the capital Hargeysa. Egal’s government rightly assumed that championing the causes of independence and international recognition could enhance its legitimacy. In the euphoria and sense of togetherness that surrounded the referendum, the rest of the constitution was all but unnoticed. After all, for several years since the 1997 Hargeysa Conference, Somaliland had been living under a very similar (yet unratifĳied), de facto constitution based on the 1993 National Charter. This was a period of peace, political stability and economic progress, even though the benefĳits of these conditions clearly had not trickled down to the lower strata of society. One major aspect of the newly approved constitution which had been more or less overlooked and which was ill understood by the electorate would change the Somaliland polity very profoundly: the introduction of the multi-party system. At the time of the Hargeysa Conference in 1997, political organisations or parties did not exist in Somaliland. I was told on many occasions by Somaliland offfĳicials that it had been the general feeling that Somaliland was not yet ready for the reintroduction of party politics because it was felt that political parties might lead to new conflicts in the already war- torn polity. Moreover, similar to what had happened under the civilian regime, it was feared that political parties might become clan-based and that this would lead to an undesirable situation where one clan might dominate the government and all the others would be in the opposition. These issues were addressed prior to the popular referendum on the constitution, by the enactment of the Regulation of Political Associations and Parties Law (RPAPL), which would govern future parties in the new political system. The new system was to be introduced in two phases: fĳirst, egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 203 new political associations would be registered. Then a limited number of these associations would be allowed to ascend to the status of ‘national political party.’ The RPAPL imposed strict conditions on the registration of political associations. To register a potential party needed functional branches with 500 members in each of the six regions of Somaliland.9 Aspiring political associations also had to pay 5 million Somaliland shillings (at the time about 700 USD) as a non-refundable deposit into the cofffers of the State.10 Applications for registration were to be reviewed by the Committee for the Registration of Political Associations and the Approval of Parties, a body of seven non-partisan members to be nominated by the president and confĳirmed by the House of Representatives.11 Only registered political associations would be entitled to participate in the fĳirst election under the multi-party system, specifĳically elections for local governments at the district level. The three registered political associations with the best results in the local government elections in each region would then, and only then, advance to the status of a national political party and be admitted by the Committee to contest the presidential election.12 The number of political parties was constitutionally limited to three in order to avoid the endless fragmentation along clan and sub-clan lines that characterised the last Somali election in 1969. In July 2001, the Committee announced that all associations wanting to be registered had to submit their applications during the two month period (as stipulated in the RPAPL) between 21 July 2001 and 21 September 2001. Soon after, Egal formally announced the foundation of Somaliland’s fĳirst political association, the Ururka Dimograadiga Ummadda Bahoobey (Democratic United People’s Movement or UDUB). Despite the nearly universal endorsement of the constitutional referendum—or at least the independence concept—there was considerable unease with the pace of introducing the multi-party system. Egal’s opposition, including the Alan As-associated ousted politicians, felt that there would be no level playing fĳield, given the all-encompassing fĳinancial and political power of the president and his circle. With a future government party backed by all the government capacity and resources at its disposal, free and fair elections would be quite impossible.

9 RPAPL (Art. 4, 3°). 10 RPAPL (Art. 3, 2°). 11 RPAPL (Art 2, 1° and 2°). 12 RPAPL (Art 4, 13°). 204 chapter eight

B. The Opposition Sultaans

As the run-up to the fĳirst election gained speed, an opposition politician was arrested. Disafffected titled elders picked up the case, and quickly a pragmatic alliance took shape. Opposition politicians rallied behind the group of elders who organised themselves into a ‘traditional’ clan-based assembly that challenged the legitimacy of Egal’s government and Somaliland’s new political system. Yet their opposition was not directed against the introduction of a modern system as such. The coalition simply wanted to get Egal out—and they did not believe this was possible under a political system that he controlled. In order to address this issue, they wanted a new clan conference. The challenge of both the sultaans and the opposition met with a fĳirm government response: clan conferences and sultaans’ bodies claiming political authority were now against the Somaliland constitution and would be stamped out. In the stand-offf between the government, on one hand, and the sultaans and the opposition, on the other, the clan elders who were not directly involved did not play a visible role. The matter was eventually quelled not by clan elders or politicians, but by third parties— civic actors, supported by the population, who wanted peace more than anything else.

2.1. Strange Bedfellows Suleiman Gaal, although not himself a prominent SNM veteran or a member of he Alan As, was the most vocal of the opposition politicians at the time of the constitutional referendum. He had been Interior Minister in Somaliland’s fĳirst government, under Tuur. After the Borama Conference he became Minister of Education under Egal, and later Minister of Finance. Nevertheless, Suleiman Gaal became Egal’s challenger in the 1997 presidential election at the Hargeysa Conference. He publicly accused Egal of being autocratic and corrupt and of being dishonest about his stated commitment to the independence of Soma- liland. Upon his return from a visit to the UK, Gaal was arrested at Hargeysa Airport on the 22nd of May 2001 and taken into detention at the headquarters of the Somaliland Criminal Investigations Depart- ment. No offfĳicial comment was given and no charges were made public, although Jamhuuriya Newspaper suggested that Gaal was vaguely accused of treason because he had allegedly talked to the Djibouti president, egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 205

Omar Guelleh, about “issues not in the interest of Somaliland,”13 i.e. the upcoming referendum. Other sources point out that Gaal, as a Habar Ja’lo opposition politician, was arrested for “boiling up the Habar Ja’lo” against Egal.14 Suleiman Gaal’s arrest immediately provoked a reaction from a number of Bur’o-based sultaans of the Habar Ja’lo and Habar Yunis.15 In a letter to President Egal, they demanded Gaal’s immediate release— unconditionally. According to Jamhuuriya Newspaper, Egal refused very bluntly, calling the sultaan’s initiative “idiotic” and adding basically that he was in charge, not they, and they had to accept the rulings of their superior.16 Suleiman Gaal was released on the 5th of June 2001, but with a clear threat of further persecution looming over his head. Egal did not pay any more attention to the protests of the Bur’o sultaans, until they proceeded to visit and implicate some sultaans from Las Anod who also had their misgivings about the Somaliland administration. It seemed as if some kind of new Eastern Alliance was forming between the Bur’o sultaans—the majority of whom were Habar Ja’lo—and their close neighbours, the Dhulbahante from Las Anod. They found each other through their common complaints about the “attitude of the government towards the eastern regions.” Misgivings included: lack of representation in the government and the administration and lack of government input in terms of services—in other words, international NGOs and other organisations had to be sent more frequently into the East, instead of keeping them in Hargeysa. Finally, Egal’s blunt and non-transparent style of government was denounced.17 After their visit to Sool, the Bur’o sultaans invited the Dhulbahante back to Bur’o to follow up on the matter.18 Some Gadabursi sultaans (and politicians) voiced similar protests and joined the Bur’o sultaans: the government was not paying enough attention to Awdal region, forcing aid agencies to have their headquarters in Hargeysa,

13 Horn of Africa Bulletin 3/2001: 21. Amnesty International, condemning the arrest, reported that the implicit accusation had been support to the TNG. 14 Abdillahi Mohammed Ahmed ‘Filter,’ interview, Bur’o 07/04/2003. 15 According to Jamhuriyya (3 (175), 2001), they were Sultan Abdullahi Sultan Ali (HT), Mohammed Sultan Hersi (HY), Mohammed Gulaid (HT) and Boqor Mohamoud Ali (HT) [clan specifĳications added by myself]. 16 Somaliland Times 25/08/2001. 17 Ahmed Dirir Ali, interview, Hargeysa 13/06/2002; and Mahamed Jame Botan, interview, Bur’o 13/06/2002. 18 Jamhuuriya, 3 (175), August 25–31, 2001. 206 chapter eight not appointing enough Gadabursi ministers and Director Generals, not “assisting” Gadabursi sultaans with cars and fĳinancial means.19 The Egal government immediately branded the visit of the Bur’o sultaans to Sool as “suspicious” and “beyond comprehension.” The traditional leaders did not back down, however. After their return to Bur’o, they called for a national conference of clan leaders, offfĳicially for the purpose of discussing and smoothing out any outstanding issues among clans. Hargeysa reacted by sending a number of ministers to Bur’o to make sure that no meeting of this sort would take place. In a press statement released on 7 July, Egal’s interior minister warned the Bur’o sultaans that there would be “dire consequences” should they decide to have the conference anyway. Reportedly, it was a statement that immediately incensed a considerable portion of the Bur’o population. The Egal administration was accused of bringing back the threatening and intolerably oppressive tactics of the Barre regime.20 The situation further escalated as in early July Egal staged a conference attended by government representatives from the regions, districts, parliament and central administration in order to found ‘his’ political association, UDUB. Participants to the conference reportedly prepared and approved party rules and regulations and established a Central Committee for UDUB.21 One of Egal’s close allies, Abdi Aw Dahir, then Minister of Health, became Secretary General of UDUB. Abdi Aw Dahir was considered one of the radical Habar Yunis hawks who had been incorporated into the Egal regime during the Hargeysa Conference after years of bitter opposition against Egal. It was he whom Egal sent to Bur’o in mid-July to confront the sultaans and stop their gathering from taking place. Most agreed that Egal’s time in offfĳice was really up after two extensions,22 and a considerable part of the Bur’o population supported the right of the sultaans to hold a conference.23 On the other hand, some other Habar Ja’lo elders feared that the situation might too easily get out of hand and that the whole conflict would end in violence. The conference

19 Mohmed Ahmed Barre ‘Garaad,’ interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. 20 Jamhuuriya 3 (175), August 25–31, 2001. 21 Horn of Africa Bulletin 4/2001: 25. 22 The Hargeysa Conference had given Egal a mandate up to the year 2000 to carry out the referendum. The administration missed that deadline. An extension was granted until February 2001, but even that deadline was missed. Another, shorter, extension was granted, until 23 February 2002. The referendum was only held in May 2001 and after it, Egal was still in power, with no date for elections set. The president was accused by the opposition to keep holding on to power. 23 Mohammed A. Mohamoud ‘Awoowe,’ interview, Hargeysa 29/03/2003. egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 207 was organised and paid for by the Habar Ja’lo. However, the Bur’o elders insisted that a conference as political as that should take place in Hargeysa.24 The fears of these elders seemed to be confĳirmed when the government threatened military action.25 The sultaans, however, remained defĳiant. Allegedly, Egal responded by sending the Somaliland army to Bur’o in order to live up to his threats. Then a typical Somali scenario seems to have unfolded: an unconfĳirmed report said that the Bur’o garrison (also part of the Somaliland army) took offf their uniforms and turned militia in order to defend their clan’s recalcitrant sultaans. The commander of the mixed-clan Hargeysa-based unit did not want to take responsibility for an attack, so none was initiated, and the soldiers dis- banded again.26 The meeting of the sultaans was held in Bur’o in July 2001. Depending on the source, there were between 17–20 titled elders present, among whom, 3 to 4 were sultaans of the Gadabursi, an equal number of the Habar Ja’lo, the one for the Habar Yunis who had been involved in the protests about Suleiman Gaal’s arrest, and one each of the Habar Awal (Issa Musa), the ‘Idagalle, the Arap, the Ayuub and the Tol Ja’lo.27 The Dhulbahante, although invited, did not attend. No politicians were allowed to participate. Before long theories about the political motives of the attendants, clan-based or other were circulating. The Habar Yunis sultaan allegedly was there because he had a personal grudge against Egal,28 though his move to join with the opposition sultaans was supported by at least one very influential Habar Yunis businessman in Bur’o, Mohammed Jama Botan.29 On a diffferent political level, the traditional leaders had an issue with Egal, because they felt that they had become disempowered. The mid 1990s had seen a political and economic increase in the value of the offfĳice of sultaan. Egal had started to grant them salaries and benefĳits, drawing them to Hargeysa. As diffferent subclans started noticing this, they began to subdivide, resulting in more sultaans and more akils. However, the

24 Ali Dirriye Jama ‘Mudubbe,’ interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003; Suleiman Awood Jama, interview, Bur’o 06/04/2003. 25 Jamhuuriya 3 (175), August 25–31, 2001. 26 Mohammed A. Mohamoud ‘Awoowe,’ interview, Hargeysa 29/03/2003. 27 Hassan Buur, Interview, Hargeysa, 03/04/2003; Mohammed Ahmed Barre ‘Garaad,’ interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003; and Jamhuuriya, 3 (175) August 25–31, 2001. 28 Abdillahi Aden ‘Quruh,’ interview, Bur’o 05/04/2003. 29 Therefore it was clear that it was not simply a competition between the ‘Habar Yunis aligned with the government’ versus the ‘Habar Ja’lo aligned with the opposition.’ 208 chapter eight dramatic increase in ‘traditional’ leaders made it impossible for the government to accommodate all of them.30 During the summer of 2001 the political interests of the political opposition and the disempowered sultaans came together. The Bur’o Conference continued until the 18th of July, when a seven-point resolution was released, culminating in a call for the government to resign within 40 days.31 The situation would remain tense throughout the summer of 2001. In August the President Egal sent the four Bur’o-based sultaans who had protested against Gaal’s arrest an invitation to a meeting in Hargeysa. The four eventually accepted on the condition that all those who had been present at the conference of sultaans in Bur’o would be allowed to participate in the meeting with the president.32 Meanwhile, Egal had barely survived an attempted impeachment. One week before the Bur’o sultaans would meet in Hargeysa, 37 members of the House of Representatives submitted a resolution in Parliament calling for the president to be removed from offfĳice on the basis of by then well- known opposition criticism. The resolution cited his use of government funds and capacity to form UDUB and his move to incorporate virtually all government personnel in it, which would make free and fair elections under the new multi-party system impossible.33 The most serious accusation was the old one of being treacherous and against his own country. According to these accusations, Egal was waiting for an opportunity to join a unitary Somali-wide government in Mogadishu. His attitude toward Sool and eastern Sanaag—not totally welcoming the Warsengeli and the Dhulbahante into the government but claiming their territory—allegedly was part of this strategy. Egal was in fact suspected of deliberately keeping Sool and eastern Sanaag in limbo until a proper Somali administration could be formed in the South, which he would then join.34

Taking on the Somaliland Council of Sultaans Amidst this political turmoil, on the 20th of August the sultaans, who now dubbed themselves the Somaliland Council of Sultaans, started meeting among themselves prior to meeting with the president. These meetings

30 Hassan Buur, interview, Bur’o 03/04/2003. 31 Jamhuuriya 3 (175), August 25–31, 2001. 32 Jamhuuriya 3 (175), August 25–31, 2001. 33 Horn of Africa Bulletin 4/2001: 25; see also ICG 2003a: 13. 34 Yasin Hadji Mahamed, interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. See also Lindeman and Hansen 2003. egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 209 continued for several days, until in the early morning of the 23rd, when separate units of the Somaliland National Army raided the houses and hotels where the sultaans were spending the night. The army arrested some of the sultaans and brought them to prison. Other conferees were placed under house arrest. The crackdown on the sultaans was explained by the government as a measure to deal with their challenge to the Somaliland constitution. The government argued that the self-styled Council of Sultaans had violated the constitution by calling themselves “the highest authority in Somaliland.”35 The arrest of the sultaans caused a great deal of upheaval in Hargeysa. Chaos and stampedes surrounding the sites of the arrests caused several injuries. One young man, watching the event unfold, was killed by a stray bullet. Because the sultaans were jailed without being formally charged or allowed to see their lawyers or families, Amnesty International became involved, sending a demand to the Somaliland government that the sultaans be released or charged immediately.36 The government stood fĳirm, however, with Somaliland’s Minister of Information and National Guidance declaring that the authorities would not tolerate tribal or religious challenges to its legitimate authority and that political challengers should use the correct channels in accordance with the constitution.37 Because the constitution provided only for a House of Representatives and a House of Elders, no other house, council or body could claim legitimate authority; therefore, the Council of Sultaans was unlawful and unconstitutional. The president accused the sultaans of wanting to “go back to the jungle” and would only release them if they renounced their demands and their accusations.38 In spite of their widely published statements denouncing Egal and the government party UDUB, the sultaans maintained that their council was purely a cultural assembly.39 Clearly, though, it was not: it had nothing to do with clan or subclan matters, since the opposition traditional leaders had not been mandated by their clans or subclans; clans or subclans were not even internally united in their allegiance or opposition to the government. According to some, the sultaans were representing the dissatisfaction of the people. But then opposition politicians, benefĳiting from the

35 Jamhuuriya 3 (175), August 25–31, 2001. 36 Amnesty International had also condemned the arrest and detention without charge of Suleiman ‘Gaal’ in May (Amnesty International 2002). 37 Horn of Africa Bulletin 4/2001: 25. 38 Mohammed A. Mohammed ‘Awoowe,’ interview, Hargeysa 29/03/2003. 39 Jamhuuriya 3 (175), August 25–31, 2001. 210 chapter eight association with ‘traditional’ leaders, used the sultaans to get their anti- Egal message across.40 According to other reports, however, the sultaans were misled by politicians to oppose Egal.41 In any case, the government’s attempts to silence the sultaans, as well as the confrontational style of the sultaans themselves, were met with disapproval, anger and concern by the Hargeysa population—a population tired and fed up with fĳighting. Rumours circulated at the instigation of the government stated that the whole situation was connected to seditious activities in Somaliland of the Mogadishu-based Arta government. Popular demonstrations called on both the government and the opposition sultaans “not to start an internal conflict” and “not to serve Arta.” The demonstrators may not have been satisfĳied with Egal, but they knew about the situation in Puntland and were reluctant to see a situation develop where a strong leader might be removed by force. Notably, they did not want an escalated conflict between the sultaans and the government.42 The situation led various Hargeysa-based persons to intervene. High profĳile Hargeysa businesswomen published an open letter in the newspaper in the name of what they called the Hargeysa Women Community, requesting the conflicting parties to “avoid all steps that endanger the peace of the country and give a chance to Somaliland enemies.” Their message was that Somaliland’s independence had to be maintained and its laws upheld.43 Prominent, respected men who would be in a position to talk with both the sultaans and the government set up a mediation team consisting of the speakers and deputy speakers of the Guurti and the House of Representatives, four prominent businessmen (including Mohammed Saeed Du’aale ‘Dahabshiil’), fĳive Islamic scholars and two prominent Somalilanders from the Diaspora. At the instigation of the mediation team the sultaans signed a joint statement in which they explained to the Somaliland public again that the Council of Sultaans was a cultural organisation in compliance with Article 23, paragraph 3 of the Somaliland constitution (referring to the freedom of association). The statement asserted that the sultaans had not acted “following directives from the nations’ enemies” and that “all misunderstandings could be equitably and civiliz- edly resolved on [sic] the negotiating table.”44 On the 30th of August, the

40 Mohammed A. Mohammed ‘Awoowe,’ interview, Hargeysa 29/03/2003. 41 Abdillahi Mohammed Ahmed ‘Filter,’ interview, Bur’o 07/04/2003. 42 Saadia Ahmed, interview, Hargeysa, 28/01/2002. 43 Jamhuuriya 3 (175), August 25–31, 2001. 44 Jamhuuriya 3 (175), August 25–31, 2001. egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 211 sultaans were released. They promised to respect the Constitution, but refused to disband the Council of Sultaans.45

C. Toward the First Election

Tension remained high throughout the autumn, as none of the issues at the root of the sultaans’ arrests had been resolved. As soon as the sultaans were back in Bur’o, they reverted to bold language again: the methods and actions of the Somaliland government were likened to those of the hated faqash, a derogatory reference to Siyyad Barre’s security services. Opposition politicians also continued their campaign against Egal. Their fears had come true: Egal had started his own political party, UDUB, ahead of his political competitors. Others formed political associations, too, but the opposition was divided on whether or not to join the game, which was considered unfair anyway.

3.1. Political Parties of the Opposition After the founding of UDUB in July 2001, opposition politicians started registering political associations, in accordance with the Regulation of Political Associations and Parties Law (RPAPL), which required registration in order to compete in the upcoming local elections. The associations which registered themselves included the Justice and Welfare Party (UCID), Hormood and a few smaller ones, such as UMAD, ILAYS, and BIRSOL. Other groups initially refused to register and they insisted instead on a clan conference. The election was scheduled for December 2001.46 There was not much to distinguish the political associations from one another, even though the RPAPL (Art. 4, par 10) required them to have a specifĳic programme, clearly addressing six issues: (a) maintenance of the peace, harmony and public order of the country, (b) the advancement of education and religion, (c) promotion of health and welfare, (d) care and protection of the environment, (e) development of the natural resources of the land, (f) promotion of knowledge and technology. Although the parties had indeed some kind of a programme, they were not very developed, except that of UCID, which was modelled after the Scandinavian

45 IRIN/Horn of Africa 53. 46 To take place before the 23rd of February 2002, the expiry date of the extension granted to the Egal government in early 2001. 212 chapter eight social democratic parties. The Scandinavian system, UCID’s chairman Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe’ (‘Hyena’) contended, was similar to the Somali way of life in helping poor people against the forces of the market.47 Popular support for any one political association, however, did not depend on the programme, but on the name, the reputation, the perceived political leverage and inevitably the clan allegiance of its chairman and the executive committee. In contrast to Egal’s UDUB political association, many of the opposition associations were weak in organisation, fĳinance and mobilization capacity. Hormood, for example, was founded by some ex-members of Ufffo, the Hargeysa self-help group that attracted the wrath of Barre’s security forces at the end of the 1980s. They felt that “things were not going fast enough and were not done properly” and that the current regime resem- bled “the system that we fought against, characterised by tribalism, corruption and nepotism.”48 Hormood had a political programme, as required by law, but they found it difffĳicult to mobilise followers, a party offfĳicial declared, because people had lost hope that they could change the men in power. People, especially in rural areas, did not seem particularly interested in Hormood’s message. The association later developed some kind of privileged relationship with local women’s NGOs and organisations in Hargeysa, but their support this was limited to the capital.49 Like UCID, Hormood claimed to have offfĳices in every region of Somaliland.50 Yet, limited fĳinances prevented any of the opposition parties from organizing a viable nationwide campaign. Basically, in view of the slim chance of them being successful in the election they had little to offfer people who might consider getting involved in the party. Some of the smaller parties such as ILAYS, BIRSOL and UMAD, never really coalesced beyond offfĳicial registration. The weakness of these groups led the more radical anti-Egal opposition to suspect that the president himself was behind the foundation of a number of them.51 All opposition politicians were convinced that Egal would press to hold elections in

47 Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe,’ interview, Hargeysa 29/01/2002. Faisal was a ‘Diaspora Somalilander’ from Finland. According to biographic information provided by himself, Faisal had not lived in Somaliland since the age of 14. His family was based in Mogadishu where he later started to work as an engineer; at some point he even became vice mayor of Mogadishu, but he had lost all his property there and had to live in a hotel in Hargeysa while his family was still in Finland (interview Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe’). 48 Ahmed Mahamed Madar, interview, Hargeysa 09/02/2002. 49 Zamzam Abdi Aden, interview, Hargeysa 11/02/2002. 50 Ahmed Mahamed Madar, interview, Hargeysa 09/02/2002. 51 Michael Mariano ‘Robleh,’ interview, Hargeysa 30/05/2002. egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 213

December 2001 because UDUB was ready and they were not. Indeed, no other parties were properly organised, mobilised or fĳinanced. Not having the election, however, would mean that Egal would claim yet another extension and stay in power. Such a scenario was forcefully opposed by the radical anti-Egal faction. From their perspective, Egal had to go by February 23, 2002, no matter what. The conviction that the government would push through with the election no matter what led part of the radical opposition to register a political association after all: SAHAN, chaired by Dr. Gaboose, a psychiatrist and former physician to Siyyad Barre. SAHAN’s leadership included a fair number of former ministers who had been sacked by Egal in one of his reshufffles. Suleiman Gaal, however, together with a number of Dr. Gaboose’s former allies, prominent ex-SNM cadres (including Abdirahman Aw Ali, Musa Bihe and others) refused to register offfĳicially, although they did form a political association, which was called ASAD (Alliance for Salvation and Democracy). Under Gaal’s leadership, ASAD would become Egal’s most vocal opposition. Firmly imbedded in Gaal’s hometown of Bur’o, local opposition was fuelled to some extent by the economic decline caused by the Saudi livestock ban. As a centre for the regional livestock trade, Bur’o had become remarkably poorer since 2000. The earnings of nomads, grass sellers, water sellers and the local government all depended on the livestock trade.52 In this context, ASAD tried to champion the ‘Eastern’ cause, nurturing the perception of an East-West divide, in which the East was loosing out—something the “opposition sultaans” had articulated as well.53 ASAD was particularly popular among the Habar Ja’lo, and some Dhulbahante politicians joined as well. Opposition politics and public agitation both picked up momentum as December’s election date neared. ASAD did not want the election to take place, but neither did it want an extension of offfĳice for Egal. Finally, ASAD proposed that a new Somaliland National Conference (modelled after the 1993 conference in Borama, where delegates were mandated by their respective clans) would need to be organised. At the conference the clan delegates would decide how to proceed with Egal’s succession.

52 Mohammed A. Mohamoud ‘Awoowe,’ interview, Hargeysa 29/03/2003. 53 Although they had been invited and accepted, the Dhulbahante sultaans who had been involved with the Habar Ja’lo sultaans in their resistance to the Egal government had decided to keep distance from the Bur’o Council of Sultaans meeting in July 2001. The Dhulbahante sultaans were not ready to directly confront the Egal government, but some Dhulbahante politicians were. They joined ASAD. 214 chapter eight

Almost inevitably, this proposal was widely read in Somaliland in terms of clan interest: the Habar Ja’lo wanted their turn in the presidential palace (after Tuur of the Habar Yunis and Egal of the Habar Awal).

3.2. Impediments to Organising the Election Yet, even if ASAD’s intervention could not stop the government from organising the election on the scheduled date, a number of other institutional and political factors fatally complicated the undertaking. The time schedule for organising the election was impossibly tight: only on the 14th of November did Parliament pass an Electoral Law that would govern local and presidential elections and authorise the appointment of a National Electoral Commission (NEC) to oversee the process (Jimcaale 2005: 69). The Commission was to be given a mandate of fĳive years and was to be “totally independent” and “immune to any external influence”54. It was assigned with several duties concerning the organisation of elections: setting the date, registering voters and announcing preliminary results and dealing with any disputes arising there from, while also overseeing the logistics of the entire operation.55 The fĳinal and defĳinitive resolution of any electoral dispute, as well as the fĳinal announcement of the result, was assigned to the Somaliland Supreme Court. According to the Presidential and Local Council Elections Law (Law 20/2001), the National Electoral Commission would consist of seven members, two of whom would be nominated by the Guurti, two by the opposition parties (in practice this implied all political associations, except UDUB) and three by the president “after due consultations” (Art. 11). Of the nominated candidates, two people were prominent members from Somaliland’s “civil society.” Although arguably, what is called “civil society” in Somaliland is mainly an urban phenomenon brought about by foreign development assistance, largely externally driven and not very well developed, the sector produced its own influential fĳigures56 who involved themselves mostly with low key politics. The composition of the Electoral Commission had to be ratifĳied by the House of

54 Art 11 of the Presidential and Local Councils Elections Law (Law 20/2001). 55 Art 14 of the Presidential and Local Councils Elections Law (Law 20/2001). The logistics of the operation included: preparing budgets for the organisation of the elections and the activities of the NEC, setting up polling stations and regional offfĳices, hiring stafff to act as poll offfĳicers and inspectors. 56 Contracts provided by the international agencies turned these civil society actors into successful internationally-networked professionals or businessmen and –women. Matt Bryden, interview, Nairobi 18/01/2002. egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 215

Representatives, and each individual appointment had to be endorsed by an absolute majority. Because the nomination process had not even started one month before the scheduled December election, there would by no means be sufffĳicient time to prepare the whole operation. Moreover, the NEC faced a huge challenge, as none of the members or anybody else in Somaliland, for that matter, had any experience in organising or overseeing elections. Adding to the mix, the Somaliland House of Representatives and the Guurti had not passed any of the necessary laws to make possible a proper election. One crucial issue was the demarcation of regions and districts. Since 1991, one new region and more than 20 new districts had been created in addition to the ones that already existed under the Barre regime. The status of these new administrative units was unclear: many had been set up by presidential decree under Egal, whereby he allegedly just accorded district status to the fĳiefs of political supporters. However, the 1993 Law on the Structure of the Ministry of Internal Afffairs and the Administration of the Regions and the Districts (Art. 3) stated that changes to regions and districts had to be approved by the House of Representatives.57 This had never happened, which resulted in allegations that the new districts were not legal, and were simply part of the government strategy to stay in power by (clan)gerrymandering (CIIR/ICD 2002: 7). The practice of creating ever more regions and districts had not been driven exclusively by the government. The district level was a very lively forum for clan politics.58 While the government would use the promise of a new district as a means of gaining political allegiance from particular clan leaders and politicians, clan leaders and politicians themselves played that game to create their own districts. Clan pride had been shown to be a very powerful political tool in Somaliland, and, as in the past, clan politics could easily mobilize people. It was obvious that reorganising district boundaries would make a huge diffference in the (perceived) political influence of diffferent clan groups inhabiting a particular area. What is more, after local elections each district would have its own local

57 Regions and Districts Law 23/2002. 58 According to Jimcaale (2005: 91), “Political representation at the district level is characterised by competition between clan leaders for new district and regional administrative seats in order to enhance their status and to gain access to resources distributed from the centre. Clan leaders throughout Somaliland routinely take advantage of the opportunities provided by high-level government visits to their areas or the visits by clan delegations to the capital in order to lobby for new districts.” 216 chapter eight

government with the power to make its own policy and manage its own budget (Bradbury 2008: 233). District boundaries were thus a highly sensi- tive issue which could not easily be addressed, particularly in a tense political situation.59 Apart from the aforementioned problems regarding the time frame of the NEC and the issue of district demarcation, two other problems remained unresolved one month before the election. There was still no census and no citizenship law; therefore it was impossible to determine who would be eligible to vote in the local and presidential election. Nevertheless, the government insisted that local government elections should take place on the scheduled date in December 2001 and the presidential election should take place almost immediately thereafter. Two days before the scheduled date the election was cancelled.60

3.3. Somaliland on the Brink Following the cancellation, President Egal, whose mandate would expire on the 23rd of February 2002, asked the Guurti to have his term extended. According to the offfĳicial government position, the extension was being demanded by opposition parties and additional new political organisations that had not enough time to prepare for registration.61 It took the Guurti a few weeks to debate the matter. Reportedly the Guurti Speaker, Sheikh Ibrahim Sheikh Yusuf Sheikh Madar, initially gave the impression of wanting to consider the arguments of the radical opposition led by Suleiman Gaal.62 Gaal’s political association ASAD still called for a national conference to be held at the end of January 2002, rather than holding the election, which—in their view—would be stolen by the incumbent government. In the end, however, on the 12th of January 2002 the Guurti approved an extension of Egal’s mandate by 12 months on the basis of Art. 83 of the Somaliland Constitution.63 Immediately the radical opposition moved to contest the Guurti’s extension of Egal’s mandate. Under Article 83, 5° of the Constitution, the term of offfĳice of the president and vice president could only be extended

59 As a result, some of the districts remained de facto non-operational, others were left with undefĳined boundaries. The district of Maydh (‘Mait’), for example, had district status, but the Mayor was only allowed to operate in a fĳive-mile radius around the town. The surrounding countryside and settlements were, in reality, left ungoverned (Jimcaale 2005: 91). 60 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 23/02/2002. 61 IRIN 72. 62 Indian Ocean Newsletter 12/01/2002. 63 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 2/03/2002. egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 217 by the Guurti if an election was not possible because of “security considerations.” This was clearly not the case, and so the extension of the mandate granted by the Guurti was deemed illegal. At the beginning of February, 2002, ASAD and SAHAN declared that they would no longer recognise Egal’s government after the 23rd of February, the day on which his term would have expired. SAHAN, however, did not support ASAD’s proposal to hold a national conference instead of elections. The other major opposition political associations, Hormood and UCID, also nixed the idea of a national conference, although they did share ASAD’s and SAHAN’s criticism of Egal’s style of government and his management of the Somaliland budget.64 ASAD’s demand for a national conference was still backed by the Council of Sultaans, which again issued a statement in early February to the efffect that Egal’s rule was over, that a general conference of clan leaders should be held and that clans should start naming their representatives.65 United in their criticism of Egal, the opposition nonetheless appeared at the same time to be deeply divided among themselves.66 Many issues seemed to boil down to mere personal rivalry, particularly between proponents of SAHAN and ASAD. By the beginning of February, Somaliland had a deeply divided opposition of some 4 or 5 political associations, none in agreement with the other, and headed by politicians with individual grudges against Egal and against each other. To make matters more complex, the self-styled Council of Sultaans again claimed authority and denounced the elections altogether. Allegedly, the government side was divided, too: it was said that signifĳi- cant diffferences between Egal and some of his cabinet ministers surfaced around how best to deal with the crisis. Some ministers were said to be pressing for dialogue with the opposition in order to investigate the possibility of an all-inclusive transitional government until the 2003 elections. Reportedly, Egal refused this solution.67 According to Haatuf/ Somaliland Times, the president also criticised the Guurti for granting him an extension that was too long: a few months would in his view have been more appropriate than one year.68

64 Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe,’ interview, Hargeysa 29/01/2002; Ahmed Mohammed Madar, interview, Hargeysa 09/02/2002. 65 Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/2002. 66 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 23/02/2002. 67 Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/2002. The report added however, that it was not clear whether Egal and some of his ministers were disagreeing about the political parties opposition or about the opposition of the Bur’o sultaans. 68 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 2/02/2002. 218 chapter eight

Meanwhile, the clock was ticking. With ASAD’s and SAHAN’s February 23rd deadline drawing near, the tension rose. The government threatened some of the Somaliland newspapers that had published critical reports. Newspapers that published anonymous pieces were told they would face sanctions.69 Preparations for the election—which was postponed until a later, unspecifĳied date—continued. The members of the National Electoral Commission were approved by Parliament, and the body was provided with 7,000 USD to start working.70 Amid the confusion and the tension veteran politician Ahmed Silanyo, former SNM chairman and former minister under Egal, re-entered the political scene. Silanyo had resigned as Egal’s Minister of Planning in 2000,71 returning to the UK, where he had lived and studied from 1958 to 1965. His announced retirement from Somaliland politics was cancelled when he declared at the end of December 2001 that he would be returning—to take part in the presidential election.72 Silanyo arrived in Hargeysa on the 9th of February 2002 and immediately met with President Egal. Reportedly, Egal agreed to Silanyo’s offfer to mediate between the president and the radical opposition—so long as neither the extension of the presidential mandate nor the principle of holding the election were at stake. Furthermore, under no circumstance would Egal be prepared to discuss the possibility of holding another Borama-style clan conference.73 By mid-February Silanyo was welcomed in Bur’o. Haatuf/Somaliland Times published a glowing report on the occasion since much was expected from Silanyo’s planned interventions to break the political deadlock.74 As Silanyo’s convoy travelled past Sheikh and other towns and villages on the way to Bur’o he was greeted by scores of people chanting: “Long live Mujaheed! ”75 In Bur’o, Silanyo was greeted by the Minister of Industry Ahmad Jama Botan, a brother of Mohammed Jama Botan, who had supported the Bur’o sultaans (allegedly in a bid to win his support, Egal had now given Mohammed Jama Botan access to the spoils of government). The welcoming ceremony was attended by several other government offfĳicials, including the Regional Commissioner and his deputy, as well as other senior regional and district offfĳicials. Also present was

69 Horn of Africa Bulletin 1/2002. 70 Radio Hargeysa 3 Feb 2002 (BBC Monitoring Service). 71 Mohammed Ahmed Barre ‘Garaad,’ interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. 72 Indian Ocean Newsletter 12/01/2002. 73 Indian Ocean Newsletter 02/03/2002. 74 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 16/02/2002. 75 SNM guerilla fĳighters were called Mujahedeen. egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 219

Suleiman Gaal, who was a long-standing political rival of Silanyo and his direct competitor for Habar Ja’lo support. Silanyo immediately announced that he would soon be travelling to Sool and Sanaag Regions.76 It turned out, however, that Silanyo’s activities would be focussed on Hargeysa, rather than on the East. As February 23 approached, the situation became more and more tense. On the recommendation of the UN security offfĳicer in Hargeysa, the Nairobi-based UN Resident Representative, Randolph Kent, ordered a temporary suspension of NGO personnel flying to Hargeysa until after February 23. According to the Indian Ocean Newsletter, the security offfĳicer had pointed out during a meeting of international NGOs, that it was possible that the opposition would try to oust Egal and gain control over the port of Berbera in order to cut offf the government’s money supply.77 These rumours were seemingly corroborated by the presence of former SNM Colonel Ibrahim Abdullahi Hussein ‘Degaweyn’ among the ranks of the opposition, because, as Habar Awal/Issa Musa he was believed to be in a position to win control over Berbera, a town which the Issa Musa shared with the Habar Awal/Saad Musa. The Egal government was incensed about what it considered to be sug- gestions that a coup d’état was at hand and immediately declared the security offfĳicer in question persona non grata. At the same time however, in a move that perhaps indicated at least some sense of worry, Egal replaced the commander of the Somaliland army and placed Hargeysa under curfew.78 On the same day, the 20th of February 2002, three days before the expiry of the opposition deadline, Silanyo offfĳicially and publicly announced his intention to mediate between the government and the opposition. Sultaan Hersi Qani, speaking for the Somaliland Council of Sultaans, immediately confĳirmed that the sultaans would support Silanyo in this efffort. Suleiman Gaal as well agreed to the mediation.79 The government stood by its conditions, however, and would talk to the opposition only on its own terms. To the relief of many Somalilanders, the 23rd of February 2002 passed without extraordinary events. The registered opposition parties (i.e., not

76 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 16/02/2002. 77 Indian Ocean Newsletter 23/02/2002. 78 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 23/02/2002. No reason was given for his dismissal, although supposedly it was connected to his refusal to attack the conference of sultaans in Bur’o. He refrained from attacking saying that he was in no position to threaten them (Michael Mariano Robleh, interview, Hargeysa 30/05/2002). 79 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 23/02/2002. 220 chapter eight

ASAD) issued a joint statement asking the government to call the military back to their barracks. Although the signatories maintained that the extension of the government’s mandate did not enjoy general support, they pledged to “safeguard peace and stability.”80 In their statement the registered opposition parties also called upon the mass media (i.e. the newspapers81) “not to exaggerate anything liable to cause instability.”82 Four days later Jamhuuriya Newspaper published allegations that the Guurti had been bribed by Egal in return for their approval of his extension in offfĳice. The allegation was vehemently denied by the Guurti. Though Jamhuuriya claimed that it had recorded evidence and stood by its case, it failed to actually produce any evidence.83 Meanwhile, the term of offfĳice of the House of Representatives was running out, too. President Egal once more had to ask the Guurti to extend the mandate of the House by three months, in order for it to act on bills that were necessary for holding elections, including those dealing with citizenship, census and district demarcation. The House itself did not share this sense of urgency; it adjourned its regular session before touching upon any of these matters. The government and some opposition parties (notably UCID and Hormood) criticised this action, claiming that their slack attitude in the past had caused the December election to be postponed in the fĳirst place.84 It was true that in fact the sitting members of the House had little interest in getting the election process moving; for the sooner they would create the conditions for an election, the sooner they might be replaced. Bickering between and within the government and the opposition continued throughout April until yet another dramatic and potentially disastrous event occurred. On the 23rd of April the Mogadishu-based Radio Banaadir quoted sources close to President Egal as saying that his health was rapidly deteriorating and that he would be flown to Johannesburg for further diagnosis and treatment.85 The news was more or less confĳirmed by Radio Hargeysa the next day when President Egal was reported to have left for

80 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 2/03/2002. 81 Private radio stations were not allowed in Somaliland at that time. 82 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 2/03/2002. 83 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 2/03/2002. 84 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 02/03/2002, 06/04/2002. 85 Radio Banaadir, Mogadishu (in Somali), 1700 GMT, 23/04/2002–via BBC Monitoring Service. egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 221

a 10-day visit to South Africa which will include a working tour and a medical check up. [After his treatment,] the President would follow up on the political issues he had been engaged in.86 On the 3rd of May, Radio Hargeysa announced Egal’s death. The same broadcast announced that Dahir Riyale Kahin, Egal’s vice president— after an emergency meeting of the Guurti, the House of Representatives and the ministerial Cabinet—had been sworn in as president by a judge of the Somaliland Supreme Court, in line with Art. 86, 4° and Art. 89, 2° of the Somaliland Constitution.87 The late president would be buried the next day in Berbera, next to his father’s grave. The statement concluded: “A seven-day mourning period, which will involve the recitation of the Koran and prayers, will be held in the country. Otherwise everything else will continue as usual.”88 To the astonishment of many observers, Somali and non-Somali, there was no upheaval at all, in spite of the political situation at the time. On the contrary, Egal’s death created a temporary lull in political activity and certainly in political opposition. The man who once stood at the centre of power and politics—the man to be opposed—was no longer there.

D. Conclusion

Egal’s funeral united government and opposition politicians at the late president’s grave. What did Egal leave Somaliland? Under Egal’s government a sense of Somaliland nationhood, national consciousness, nationalist fervour was carefully nurtured. Undeniably, in Somaliland’s heartland a new ‘imagined community’ had taken shape, claiming a right to internationally recognised statehood (Anderson 1983). Under Egal’s rule Somaliland moved closer to the image of proper statehood by his introducing and founding those government institutions and agencies that modern states are supposed to have, such as a national police,

86 Radio Hargeysa (in Somali), 1700 GMT 24/04/2002–via BBC Monitoring Service. Interestingly, the statement continued that Egal had refused to go to an Arab country [for medical treatment] “since Arab countries have a low estimation of us.” 87 As pointed out by Bryden (2003), this was in fact not in accordance with the constitution. The constitution would only come into efffect after the fĳirst multi party elections. Until then, Article 130 of the Constitution stipulates that the Speaker of the House of Elders shall fĳill the vacant offfĳice for a period of up to 45 days, within which the two Houses of Parliament should jointly elect a new President. 88 Radio Hargeysa (in Somali), 1700 GMT, 03/05/2002–via BBC Monitoring Service. 222 chapter eight a national military, a parliament, ministries, local government structures and fĳinally a political system to suit the conditionalities of the international (donor) community, upon whom Somaliland’s recognition as a state depended. The multi-party system was designed to do away with the system of clan representation in Somaliland’s government institutions. Rather than clan elders mandating politicians, Somaliland citizens now would elect politicians to govern the country. Furthermore, the number of parties would be limited in order to prevent political fragmentation along clan lines. At the same time it was still very clear that clan politics were far from unimportant in Somaliland. But they were subject to a diffferent logic than in Somaliland’s early years. Rather than being the channels through which politics, representation and the distribution of power took shape, they became part of a patronage network, with government offfĳi- cials in the driver’s seat by virtue of their access to superior fĳinancial resources. At the end of Egal’s rule Somaliland was a hybrid political order involving elements associated with the realm of state and elements associated with the realm of clan. This said, those in control of the state wielded the most extensive degree of power. The president was fĳirmly on top of the political competition among politicians, businessmen, clan leaders and power brokers (or—mostly—mixed, hybrid versions of the former categories) over state power and resources. That the political instruments and discourses used in that competition were hybrid as well is clearly illustrated by the episode of the sultaans’ resistance. Though the government worked extensively through its clan-based patronage systems, it confronted the sultaans’ resistance against the multi-party system with constitutional arguments. What the sultaans wanted to achieve with their calling for a new clan conference was to gain access to a greater share of the political power and economic resources associated with the state. By using a discourse related to state and constitution, the government tried to keep the opposition in check. By using a discourse related to clan institutions, the opposition tried to displace the government’s legitimacy. Some of the clan elders, brokers and politicians were ‘in,’ others were ‘out’: there were government-linked clan elders and brokers as well as opposition-linked clan elders and brokers. The early involvement of clan elders in Somaliland politics provided for stabilizing efffects on the polity as a whole. At the end of the Egal regime, clan elders no longer provided checks and balances on the exercise of power at the central government egal’s political and institutional tailpiece 223 level. Instead, they vied for some of its spoils, along with scores of other actors. Now, the question remains whether the emergence of democratic elements of governance would make up for the ‘traditional’ clan-based mechanisms for regulating and mediating power struggles that had been eroded. The next chapter will address this question. CHAPTER NINE

SOMALILAND AS A MODEL FOR BUILDING PROPER STATES?

The main question addressed in this book was: should or can the involvement of traditional leaders, in state-building in Somaliland become a model to be emulated in other failed states? Can it make for the foundations of stable legitimate democratic governance as envisioned in mainstream international policy guidelines? So far, in trying to answer that question, I have shown how the Somaliland state came into being and how it evolved throughout the fĳirst ten years of its existence. Somaliland statehood is the product of an evolving negotiation between a wide range of local actors, including politicians, military men, businessmen, clan elders and mixed versions of these categories of actors. In the process of negotiation these actors have been employing a wide range of mixed and shifting discourses and strategies, referring to Weberian statehood as well as clan-based institutions. It has become clear how borders between the state and the non-state sphere have been consistently blurred, shifting and the object of political competition. Somaliland has evolved as a hybrid political order (HPO). In this HPO, clan-related actors, institutions, strategies and discourses played a stabilizing role at fĳirst. As political power became concentrated on the central Somaliland state level however, this role started to change, as hybrid elements again became the foundation of a patronage system which was to an important extent clan-based. Hybrid political orders are not something new in the Somali polity. I outlined how Somali political actors have engaged with institutions, strategies and discourses related to clan and state since colonial times (during which modern state institutions were introduced to the region). During the post-independence civilian and military regimes the interplay between notions of statehood and clan (in terms of discourse and actual practice) were a defĳining feature of competition over power and resources. Siyyad Barre’s military regime played state discourse and clan politics at same time. This was no diffferent for the opposition against the military regime—SNM (as well as other opposition movements) was clan-based despite effforts to supersede this in order to expand. The political actors who were the drivers behind SNM had to rely on traditional clan leaders 226 chapter nine of the Isaaq who took up an active role in the movement adapting (or inventing) ‘traditional’ clan institutions for this new purpose in the course of it, especially the case on levels superseding the local (for example SNM’s guurti). Clan institutions such as the Guurti were not traditional at all in the sense that they never existed on this level. Neither were the elders sitting on the Guurti traditionally mandated by their clans (they were largely self-appointed in this new institutional context). The Isaaq clan elders (on national Guurti and local levels) were instrumental in SNM’s winning the war, providing it with political support, manpower and logistics. The involvement of the elders established a real connection between what originally started out as a politician’s movement and the Isaaq population. Later on, after the war, the association with the clan elders prepared the ground for SNM government over the Northwest. The SNM government was built on the foundations of clan-based reconciliation between the Isaaq and the other clan families of the Northwest. When that government was broken up by the war between competing Isaaq politicians and militia, again the elders were instrumental. As ‘national,’ politically active Gadabursi elders (as opposed to ‘local’ ‘traditional’ elders) stepped in to mediate between the Isaaq, Somaliland grew to become more than a legacy of the SNM fĳight of liberation: it started offf the development of a Somaliland consciousness, a Somaliland identity that reached beyond the Isaaq, albeit not very far—only the Gadabursi really bought into it. From this point onward, Somaliland would evolve from a HPO with clan elders on top of the game to a HPO with a strong executive controlling state power and resources. The 1993 Borama Conference institutionalised the political role of the Somaliland clan elders in the Guurti. At the same time the elders’ roles became more curtailed and controlled. President Egal succeeded, through his clan-based business connections, to muster enough fĳinancial means to demobilise militia and to outbid (or outspend) his competitors for political support. The clan elders came under tutelage of president Egal’s government. A second round of intra- Isaaq fĳighting between competing politicians (the government coalition versus a divided Garhajis opposition) could now not be solved by what had become the ‘constitutional’ elders. The Guurti was split and its members widely seen as partisan in the political conflict. Indeed, the more ‘political’ the elders were perceived to be, the less credible their ‘traditional’ authority and legitimacy. Peacemaking on the ground was undertaken by local clan elders, without direct stakes in the national political game. The political superstructure however, was determined by the somaliland as a model for building proper states? 227 formerly competing politicians, without the involvement of the (local) elders. The introduction of a new constitutional draft for Somaliland con- fĳirmed this trend, as clan representation was to be replaced by a multi- party system. As politicians and clan-based power brokers rather than ‘traditional’ elders or ‘constitutional’ elders got to regulate clan representation, government also increasingly controlled and directed resources. Somaliland increasingly looked like a state as we know it, save however, for one obvious aspect: it did not have the elusive monopoly over the legitimate use of violence. The maintenance of public order remained essentially dependent on the cooperation and intervention of clan elders. On the other hand, in the regions of eastern Sanaag and Sool where the clan elders had not been so involved in the negotiation of Somaliland statehood, the government bluntly bought support from whichever clan elder or politician who (even nominally) offfered it. Contrary to what had been the case in Isaaq and Gadabursi areas, the population was hardly invested in the Somaliland idea. Consequently, clan institutions seem to have sufffered considerably from the pressures of competition over resources injected by polities competing for control in the region. The result was clearly destructive for the regions in terms of security, stability and physical safety of the population. The Somaliland (and Puntland) administration has been largely inefffective in both eastern Sanaag and Sool. Egal masterfully manipulated notions, discourses, resources and strategies relating to Somaliland statehood and those related to clan, increasingly centralising power in his hands, thanks to the resources he controlled and the spoils he was able to strategically distribute. Egal was reputed for “buying the peace”, paying offf (potential) competitors or paying offf conflicting parties in order to defuse potentially destabilising conflicts (often with an element of clan competition). At the point where political competition against Egal became almost impossible, any virtu- ous efffects of buying peace wore offf. The clan elders had lost their mediating role on the national level of politics while (largely clan-based) patronage had pushed the system to its limits with Egal’s opposition all but up in arms. What was the efffect of the transition to the new political system which happened after Egal’s death? Would multi-party democracy undo clan-based corruption? Did it result in new checks and balances, replacing the former mediating role of the elders? What did Somaliland evolve to become and what are the consequences for state building debates and policies in this respect? Those are the questions addressed in this concluding chapter. 228 chapter nine

A. Transitioning into the Post-Egal Era

What happened to the Egal legacy under Riyale? Was Somaliland able to move onward toward model statehood? The smooth and orderly political transition from Egal’s rule to Riyale’s bafffled the outside world (and many in Somaliland itself). The fact that political institutions appeared to have functioned properly in the absence of the strong late president and the fact that the new president was a Gadabursi, rather than an Isaaq politician, gave the impression that indeed Somaliland had moved on. With Egal gone, at least the playing fĳield looked more level. As a politician, Riyale appeared far more harmless and decidedly less shrewd than Egal. Perhaps a Gadabursi rather than an Isaaq at the helm of the country would reduce the scope of the clan-based corruption that had characterised Egal’s rule. With a Gadabursi as president, someone removed from intra-Isaaq power struggles, the government perhaps would no longer be hostage to the interests of the various Isaaq subclans and the pressure of their power brokers, or at least to a lesser extent (Bryden 2003). Moreover, the opposition apparently no longer felt Egal’s UDUB to be a threat. While Egal was seen to have founded UDUB as a vehicle for staying in power, it was not Riyale’s vehicle. The opposition that before Egal’s death had called for the disbanding of UDUB and the postponement of multi-party elections, now called for “unity and solidarity.”1 It would soon become obvious, though, that the new president was not exactly keener to share power than the former.

1.1. Riyale’s Honeymoon After Egal’s death all Somaliland politicians and traditional leaders who had previously had an issue with Egal’s government rallied behind the acting president—including the Council of Sultaans who had tirelessly attacked Egal, pressing for a regime change via a clan conference (a proposal which the Egal government had described as unconstitutional and unwarranted). Nobody really knew Riyale. As a vice president, he had never stepped out of Egal’s shadow. He was a Gadabursi politician, but with a reputedly ‘non-political’ background. He had been a colonel in the Somali army and had served in Barre’s hated National Security Service. None of the Somaliland political class (either in the government, or in the opposition) thought that he actually would make an impact or even last

1 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 18/05/2002. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 229 beyond the upcoming presidential election. It was even speculated that Riyale might declare himself a caretaker president and thus become an arbiter in the coming elections with no political ambitions of his own. That, however, was a miscalculation. Immediately after his installation, Riyale announced municipal, presidential and parliamentary elections within eight months.2 No one objected. In March 2002 the registration period for political associations was extended for a third time, until 17 May. ASAD registered itself as a political association in order to be able to contest the election and so did Kulmiye (‘Coming together’), the new political association founded by Silanyo, now a presidential candidate. In the same atmosphere of political calm—although intense lobbying was going on—Riyale appointed Ahmad Yusuf Yasiin from Egal’s Saahil region as a vice president. Meanwhile Riyale was applauded for his foreign and home policies. On the foreign policy front, Riyale refused to take part in new peace talks on a Somali-wide level. The Arta process and the Transitional National Government that emerged from it were as good as dead.3 The idea of a new round of talks had been launched in January 2002 at the IGAD summit in Khartoum. With Djibouti and the Arab League states supporting the Transitional National Government (TNG) and Ethiopia supporting the rivalling Somali Reconciliation and Restoration Council (SRRC), it seemed like a good idea to entrust the hosting and facilitating of the talks to Kenya, which had been less directly involved in Somali politics and did not attract the same accusations of being partisan or acting as a spoiler. The new peace process was to be overseen by an IGAD technical committee, consisting of the frontline states: Djibouti, Ethiopia and Kenya under the chairmanship of Kenya. Kenya’s long-time president Daniel Arap Moi would convene a reconciliation conference of faction leaders and the TNG in his home town, Eldoret. But this process developed the same problems as preceding Somali-wide peace conferences (illegitimate representation, geopolitical power struggles, corruption), and Riyale immediately ruled out Somaliland’s participation to the Eldoret conference (ICG 2002b: 4).4 Instead, Somaliland insisted on conducting its foreign relations as an independent state. In that spirit, Riyale undertook a foreign visit to Ethiopia, in order to take up the matter of

2 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 11/05/2002. 3 Persons considered Somaliland citizens who had participated in the Arta conference or the TNG gradually lost interest and were coming back as there was nothing to be gained from Arta any more. 4 See also Haatuf/Somaliland Times 29/06/2002. 230 chapter nine international recognition with the Ethiopian President Meles Zenawi and to discuss other issues, such as economic cooperation, between Ethiopia and Somaliland.5 Riyale returned triumphantly with what he called a “bilateral agreement between the two countries.”6 The president, championing the Somaliland cause, enjoyed wide approval, not only for his foreign policy but also for his fĳirst domestic actions. Still in his political honeymoon, Riyale decided to sack all Somaliland Supreme Court judges. The move met with overwhelming support. The state’s judiciary system was seen as the most corrupt and under-qualifĳied branch of government, and Riyale’s action raised hopes of diffferent and better times to come. Two weeks later, following a series of corruption scandals, the president fĳired the Mayor of Hargeysa, along with two deputies. Riyale also appointed one of Somaliland’s highest profĳile women, Edna Adan Ismael, as Minister with the newly created portfolio of Family Development and Social Afffairs.7 Riyale’s move pleased the women’s organisations in the capital. It was also noticed by aid organisations and the international community, who knew Edna Adan as a staunch campaigner against the practice of female genital muti- lation. Well-travelled, cosmopolitan, cultured and outspoken, Edna had always been a very vocal supporter and campaigner for the international recognition of Somaliland. She became the fĳirst female minister in almost a decade,8 which again added to Somaliland’s credibility as a proper state. In the same sphere of optimism Somaliland’s political organisations (including UDUB, but excluding ASAD) signed an agreement to work

5 Notably Ethiopian use of the port of Berbera, road construction between Berbera and the Ethiopian hinterland (Haatuf/Somaliland Times 27/07/2002). 6 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 27/07/2002. 7 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 06/07/2002, 20/07/2002, 10/08/2002. Edna Adan, a former wife of President Egal, had a special stature in Somaliland. A mid- wife by profession and a former WHO employee, Edna invested personal means and funds she was able to attract from elsewhere in the building of a large private maternity hospital in Somaliland’s capital. Edna Adan Maternity Hospital, with a school for nurses and mid- wives attached, became an institute in Hargeysa, and is also providing medical care beyond mother/child health via its outpatient’s clinic. The Edna Hospital is well connected in terms of fĳinance: it is supported by Somaliland Diaspora communities as well as other charitable organisations, mainly in the UK and the US. 8 Her only predecessor, Deega Jama (from the Dhulbahante) had become Minister of the Presidency in the fĳirst Egal Cabinet. Her husband, Ahmed Abdi ‘Haabsade’ (‘The Collector’) was a high ranking Dhulbahante in the Somaliland parliament. Both eventually left and joined the Puntland administration where Ahmed Abdi became a minister under Abdillahi Yusuf (women’s group member, interview, Las Anod 22/06/2002). somaliland as a model for building proper states? 231 together to hold free and fair elections.9 They pledged to fĳinalise and enforce electoral laws before the election, conduct a public information campaign, act a transparent and honest way (i.e., not to use state funds for campaign purposes), invite election observers and technical experts for the election and, fĳinally, press for the appointment of a Supreme Court president, a seat which Egal had left vacant.10 The new Regions and Districts Law, passed in June, had already solved the issue of district demarcation, at least for the purpose of the elections. The law did not approve or disqualify new districts but simply denied them status as electoral districts. Thus, new districts that had not been properly demarcated would have no elected council at this time and citizens would vote in the older district out of which the new district had been carved.11 Somaliland citizenship was also defĳined by a new Somaliland Citizenship Law, passed that same month. Basically, the same provisions would apply as had been used in the Constitutional Referendum: any person whose father was a descendent of persons who resided in the Territory of Somaliland on 26 June 1960 or before was a Somaliland citizen.12 With these vital legislative actions out of the way, attention could now focus on the electoral proceedings themselves.

1.2. Cracks in the Consensus Enthusiasm about Riyale’s initial policy measures notwithstanding, it did not take long before the fĳirst cracks in the opposition’s enthusiasm for the new president’s government started forming. By the end of August, the honeymoon ended. Unsurprisingly, under Riyale the government’s political strategies practiced under Egal did not miraculously change. Consequently, much of the inequity when it came to political competition and representation, persisted, slowly leading back to the kind of stand-offfs between those who were ‘in’ and those who were ‘out’ that had existed before Egal’s death. UDUB bought political support throughout

9 The initiative to draft this agreement had been taken by a private body, the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development, a local think tank emerged from the Somaliland branch of UNRISD’s ‘War Torn Societies Project. SAPD would play a highly visible role as mediator and facilitator in the election process, bringing the parties together in pledges of fair conduct and sponsoring the foundation of a so-called ‘integrity watch committee’ consisting of independent intellectuals. 10 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 27/07/2002. 11 Regions and Districts Law (23/2002). 12 The Citizenship law (Law 22/2002) also regulated acquisition and loss of Somaliland citizenship for male and female Somalilanders and aliens respectively. 232 chapter nine

Somaliland’s territory and clans. In response, opposition parties became largely clan based. Because they lacked the resources to support a client network, they fell back on real or imagined clan constituencies. Arguably, some of those clan constituencies (particularly in Sool region) became pawns in politicians’ struggles for political power in Hargeysa, though the clans were never properly represented (or willing to be part of Somaliland) themselves. Somaliland’s opposition parties voiced “grave concern” over UDUB’s alleged use of government funds, particularly for using government vehicles and fuel (and possibly more) for campaign purposes.13 Any hope that Riyale would act as a caretaker president and merely facilitate elections evaporated when the president and his deputy announced that indeed they would be contesting the presidency themselves.14 UDUB turned out to be what it had been since its inception under Egal: a government vehicle to carry the election. Confĳirming and adding to the fears, many members of the government administration were going to run on UDUB tickets. One of the opposition leaders was cited as saying “the high expectations that Riyale will dissociate himself from political corruption are dead and we must reassess the situation and adopt a new strategy.”15 Reports started reappearing of people being arrested and sentenced because they had been critical of the government.16 Opposition parties refused to accept UDUB’s contention that it was a political association like all the others. They feared that UDUB’s close ties with the president and his administration would stand in the way of a free and fair election. Despite all this suspicion, preparations for the elections continued without one political organisation questioning the principle of holding them. In order to complete preparations, however, they were postponed a few weeks until the 15th of December 2002. UDUB itself experienced serious internal problems in November when its secretary general, Abdi Aw Dahir, fell out with President Riyale.17 Aw Dahir had initially been brought in by Egal, in a move to incorporate some of the Habar Yunis hawks who had been opposing his rule during the 1994–1996 civil war. He served as a Minister of Health, and belonged to

13 Haatuf/Somaliland Times, 25/08/2002. 14 Horn of Africa Bulletin, 4/2002. 15 Haatuf/Somaliland Times, 7/09/2002. 16 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 7/09/2002. See also the feature about the arrest of Mohammed Baruud, a former minister (and activist who had been one of the co-founders of Ufffo) who had become the chairman of an umbrella organisation for human rights groups in Somaliland in Haatuf/Somaliland Times 28/09/2002. 17 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 09/11/2002. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 233

Egal’s inner circle of power, barely hiding his disdain for Egal’s low profĳile Vice president Riyale. When UDUB was founded Aw Dahir became secretary-general and combined the two posts until Egal, in one of his cunning reshufffles, forced him to choose between the two. Aw Dahir took the UDUB job. Neither he nor other members of Egal’s inner circle had anticipated that Riyale would ever take over after Egal. When it happened and Aw Dahir challenged him as leader of UDUB, Riyale immediately dealt with his competitor by demoting him to the status of ordinary party militant. As a result, Aw Dahir joined one of the opposition parties, SAHAN.18 On the streets and in the cofffee houses and mefrishes (informal qaad- chewing clubs) of Hargeysa and Bur’o, his move was readily understood, since SAHAN was seen as a Habar Yunis party. Although in reality relations between political organisations and the clan and subclan structures were not all that straightforward, in local elections there was a clear correlation between the clan membership of the party’s fĳigurehead and the voters and opinion leaders the party would target for spending its scarce campaigning resources. UDUB, as a government party, did not have that problem. It had access to relatively abun- dant resources and following among its clients, from whichever clan they came. Despite the fact that formally the opposition parties all had diffferent political programmes, UCID (Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe’/’Idagalle), SAHAN (Dr. Gaboose/Habar Yunis) or Hormood (Omar Arteh Qalib/Habar Awal) for example, had to focus on their respective clan constituencies (i.e. the clans of their respective chairpersons) rather than diffferences in the content of their programmes or political afffĳiliations.19 Civic education was poor, and many people did not know what political parties even were. Much was left to do in terms of voter education or indeed voter literacy, especially in rural areas. But even if they would have wanted to, the parties had little or no money to make their messages heard, let alone understood. Kulmiye, led by Silanyo, conducted a professional election campaign, which in contrast to the other opposition parties, benefĳited from rather signifĳicant resources from the Diaspora. Silanyo was a Habar Ja’lo, consequently with the Habar Ja’lo in Erigavo and Togdheer as his ‘natural’ constituency. However, the Kulmiye chairman also aimed for the women’s vote and therefore nominated a woman as deputy chair of the party (CIIR/ ICD 2003: 31). Silanyo made sure to spread his campaign over the entire

18 Personal communication. 19 Save perhaps for the Alan As factor in SAHAN and ASAD, see infra. 234 chapter nine

Somaliland territory, joking on a visit to Borama (Riyale’s hometown) that he did “not intend to get less votes from Borama than Mr. Riyale would get from Bur’o.”20 Kulmiye, however, would have to compete for the Habar Ja’lo vote with the party of another Habar Ja’lo politician, Suleiman Gaal’s ASAD. The latter also banked on his credentials as a radical anti-Egal opposition leader and on his alliances with (traditional) political leaders from the East (Habar Ja’lo, Warsengeli and Dhulbahante), notably those from Sool region, who all accused the Hargeysa government of neglecting the eastern regions. Despite the fact that Sool’s population was hardly interested in Somaliland’s election, the region would be fought for by Somaliland politicians because it boosted their nationalist credentials and because Sool held a good number of seats in the Somaliland parliament. Riyale in particular wanted to counter the long-standing allegations by the opposition that the government neglected the East. He wanted to get the political situation in Sool under control while at the same time grab some of the symbolic capital attached to Somaliland nationalism. To start with, he took military action by deploying troops near Yagoori, 40 kilometres from Sool’s regional capital of Las Anod.21 He did so, partly to counter Puntland’s strong man, Abdillahi Yusuf (ex SSDF), who had moved his campaign for the presidency of a united Somalia into Sool to start gathering support among Dhulbahante elders there22. Against the backdrop of these political manoeuvres in the eastern regions (Sool and Sanaag), the beginning of October saw the arrival in Las Anod of a 41-member Somaliland delegation consisting of politicians and elders, some of whom were associated with the government and some with an opposition party.23 These politicians and elders from the Guurti had been sent to solve outstanding problems between Somaliland and the Dhulbahante. The delegation was to prod the Dhulbahante carefully into accepting a Hargeysa government.24

20 Horn of Africa Bulletin 5/2002. 21 According to several sources cited by Horn of Africa Bulletin 4/2002. 22 Abdillahi Yusuf aimed for the presidency of a united Somalia in a government that was in due course to result from the Eldoret talks being held in Kenya 23 The delegation to Sool was not a ‘government’ delegation as such: it consisted of a variety of people who were well acquainted with and/or attached to Sool politics, including for example people sympathising or being members of ASAD and some 10 titled traditional leaders. 24 Mohammed Ahmed Barre ‘Garaad,’ interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003; Haatuf/ Somaliland Times 21/09/2002. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 235

However, the delegation’s members would never embark on the discussions they set out to hold, having arrived in the midst of a feud between two Dhulbahante subclans. The only thing they could usefully do was to help resolve the feud through mediation. Any political discussions per- taining to the Somaliland/Puntland issue were deferred until the time an agreement could be reached between the feuding clans. According to one of the delegation members, some of the Dhulbahante garaads actually fought very hard to keep the political discussion at a distance.25 When after six weeks an agreement was fĳinally reached, it was decided that the Somaliland elders would come back to Sool for the political discussions after the month of Ramadan in early December. Yet, in the end, it was not the elders who came back, but the Somaliland president himself. Riyale would be the fĳirst Somaliland president ever to visit Sool, but it was suspected that his move represented “a campaign stunt rather than a genuine political initiative” (Bryden 2003). Though Riyale had announced that he would visit Sool as far back as September, according to some members of the delegation the ground had been insufffĳiciently prepared.26 Riyale’s visit ended in disaster: following militia attacks on the presidential motor- cade and the house where he was staying, the president was forced to retreat to Hargeysa. Upon his return, Riyale imposed emergency law on the entire Sool region, except for Ainabo district.27 The immediate consequence of this measure was that during the local government elections later that month there would be no voting in most of Sool. Although the state of emergency was lifted on the eve of the poll, Somaliland government offfĳicials had been pulled out of Las Anod and restationed in Ainabo, rendering any chances that there would be much voting going on in Las Anod very slim (ICG 2003b: 29). For “security reasons,” the National Electoral Commission therefore cancelled the elections in Sool, eastern Sanaag and parts of Buhodley district (Abokor, Bradbury et al. 2003: 7). This meant that the voice of the Dhulbahante would not be heard and that Somaliland would have a hard time claiming a legitimate government in Sool. Although Somaliland did not give up its claims over Sool, the efffect of these events was that Abdillahi Yusuf was given the opportunity to expand Puntland’s presence in the region.

25 Yasin Hadji Mahamed, interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. 26 Mohammed Ahmed Barre ‘Garaad,’ interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003; Yasin Hadji Mahamed, interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. 27 Which was inhabited by Habar Ja’lo rather than Dhulbahante population. 236 chapter nine

B. The Elections: Clan Politics Through the Back Door

Somaliland’s political system lost the checks and balances provided by clan elders on the national level of politics when power started concentrating in the realm of the state and hybrid elements became part of a government-dominated political control system. The positive aspects of clan representation—participation, negotiation and mediation—were eroded. That said, the outcome of the elections, were dominated by clan- based power brokering and corruption and clearly reflected the influence of the clan system and clan-based power brokers on politics. This is not to say that voters cast their votes mechanically according to clan allegiance. In combination with appeals to voters’ clan allegiance, the fĳinancial strength and buying power of the parties and individual candidates, as well as the general population’s fear of a return to armed violence, all determined the outcome.

2.1. The 2002 Local Elections and Political Realignment The local elections had two purposes. The fĳirst was to elect local councils, which had up to now been appointed by mayors, who in turn had been appointed by the Hargeysa government. The second purpose of local elections was to determine which three political associations would win enough popular support to be accorded political party status. In view of the centralisation of political control and fĳinancial resources at the national government level in Hargeysa, far more political importance was attached to this latter purpose. Outside of Sool and eastern Sanaag, proceedings to prepare the election were conducted as planned. The parties continued campaigning while the National Electoral Commission (NEC) prepared for election day by registering candidates, dealing with logistics and the issue of voter registration. The opposition parties had demanded that voters be registered. Registration had indeed been initiated, but it was done erratically and only in urban areas. Many people registered more than once. When it became clear that the registration operation was beyond the NEC’s capacity, the opposition parties agreed to settle on the alternative method of inking every voter’s fĳinger on polling day in order to prevent people from voting more than once (Abokor, Bradbury et al. 2003: 7). In case of doubt, eligibility was to be determined by the voter’s elders. There was a persistent distrust among political parties and by them toward the NEC, although some suspicions had been allayed by somaliland as a model for building proper states? 237 the effforts of a local NGO, the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development, through meetings and agreements over a code of conduct (ICG 2003b: 17). The local government elections took place on the 15th of December 2002 and were regarded as a success. Despite a number of problems which reportedly were due largely to inexperience and incapacity, the proceedings were generally well-conducted, as was confĳirmed by international observers from the European Community, the British Embassy in Ethiopia, the Danish Embassy in Kenya, as well as nationals from Sweden, South Africa and Britain, mostly as stafff members of NGOs (Bradbury, Abokor and Yusuf 2003). The international observers were not part of any offfĳicial delegation, however, since Somaliland was not considered as an independent state by the international community. Nevertheless, the European Commission Delegation in Kenya had been found willing to support the National Electoral Commission by sending two technical consultants. The EC Delegation also funded voter education and the training of more than 3,000 election workers and domestic observers, mostly members of local NGOs. Interestingly, the EU’s participation was an outgrowth of its programme of support for democracy and good governance in Somalia. The Somaliland local government election was considered an essential step in a transition from a clan-based system toward a more democratic form of governance in the collapsed state (Bradbury, Abokor and Yusuf 2003: 466). The three political associations that came out on top in the 2002 local elections were UDUB, Kulmiye and UCID. This distinction conferred on them the legitimate title of political party, and allowed them to contest in the presidential and parliamentary elections. According to the Somaliland constitution, the political associations that came in fourth or lower ceased to exist, and where these associations won seats on local councils, the elected council members had to join one of the three offfĳicial political parties. UDUB won the election, receiving 41% of the overall vote and managing to exceed the required threshold of 20% in fĳive of the six regions. Kulmiye came in second, with an overall result of 19%, reaching the threshold in two of the six regions. Contrary to popular expectation, not SAHAN but UCID ranked third. However, the decision to rank UCID higher than SAHAN was controversial. Whereas SAHAN reached the 20% threshold in two regions, UCID reached it in none of them. Yet, UCID was awarded the third place on the basis of its small margin of diffference with SAHAN: overall, UCID had 1500 votes more than SAHAN (Bradbury, Abokor and Yusuf 2003: 466). 238 chapter nine

Table 2. Somaliland 2002 Local Council Election Results, by Region (CIIR/ICD 2003: 30). Valid Region votes UDUB Kulmiye UCID SAHAN HORMOOD ASAD Awdal 100,495 58,939 13,679 7,422 4,499 7,229 8,727 58.6% 13.6% 7.4% 4.5% 7.2% 8.7% Sahil 27,234 13,502 5,309 2,900 2,054 1,188 2,281 49.6% 19.5% 10.6% 7.5% 4.4% 8.4% Sanaag 53,096 16,574 13,701 3,401 11,356 1,409 6,655 31.2% 25.8% 6.4% 21.4% 2.7% 12.5% Sool 6,261 1,055 3,070 224 51 154 1,707 16.9% 49.0% 3.6% 0.8% 2.5% 27.3% Togdheer 66,598 18,330 17,476 4,821 15,234 1,454 9,283 27.5% 26.2% 7.2% 22.9% 2.2% 13.9% Woqooyi 186,383 70,989 29,923 30,676 14,748 29,104 10,943 Galbeed 38.1% 16.1% 16.5% 7.9% 15.6% 5.9% Total 440,067 179,389 83,158 49,444 47,942 40,538 39,596 40.8% 18.9% 11.2% 10.9% 9.2% 9.0%

The tabulation of results shows where and among whom the competing political associations had drawn their support. UDUB came out on top in all regions, except Sool, where very limited voting took place. As pointed out by the report by CIIR (Catholic Institute for International Relations, now Progressio), UDUB prevailed because its superior fĳinancial resources and association with the government attracted strong candidates from across the clan spectrum (Abokor, Bradbury et al. 2003: 31). Even if people voted for their kin rather than a party programme, they could still vote UDUB. Yet, in the clan constituencies of important UDUB fĳigureheads it clearly did even better—e.g., in Saahil, the region of the vice president, and Awdal, the region of the president.28 UDUB also profĳited from its incumbency: people who voted for them cast a “conservative” vote out of

28 In Awdal, more votes were cast than in Togdheer, which was somewhat odd as the latter is the bigger and more populous region. It turned out that many of the people who voted in Awdal (almost 59% of them for ‘their’ president’s party UDUB) were actually Somali who were normally Ethiopian residents. They were Gadabursi nomads who were in Awdal region because of the drought in the Ethiopian Somali region. Since they were members of Somaliland clans, nobody could stop them from voting (Aden Yusuf Abokor, interview, Hargeysa 17/03/2003). somaliland as a model for building proper states? 239 concern for maintaining peace and stability, even if at least some of them did not consider the sitting government ideal.29 According to a local observer, the concerns about peace and stability caused ASAD to loose a top place in the election. Gaal’s political association had lost the competition over the Habar Ja’lo vote with Kulmiye. Apparently ASAD’s close association with radical SNM veterans and the Alan As had not gone down well with Habar Ja’lo voters, who considered them “troublemakers.”30 They did, however, win 27 % of the votes cast in Sool, so another probable factor in ASAD’s defeat was that large parts of Sool, Sanaag and Bohodle did not participate in the election, which meant that ASAD lost a potential support base (Abokor, Bradbury et al. 2003: 32). Like ASAD’s, UCID’s voter support was very unevenly spread. Sixty percent of UCID’s votes came from Hargeysa, where the subclan of UCID’s chairman Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe’ live. Hormood as well won most of its votes (72%) in Hargeysa, where the chairman had his clan constituency. The election result of UDUB’s main competitor, Kulmiye, was more evenly spread. Kulmiye was able to attract votes from across the clan spectrum in Hargeysa, Saahil and Sool. Still, however, Kulmiye polled even better in Togdheer and Sanaag, the clan constituency of its chairman. UDUB’s victory margin was narrower there.31 The three now offfĳicially recognised political parties incorporated the politicians from the political associations that had lost the election. UDUB attracted former members of the three defeated parties by offfering them ministerial posts. In March 2003, the cabinet expanded dramatically. Kulmiye, for its part, opened up important positions in the Kulmiye party structure by expanding its Central Committee. UCID, which, as the small- est victor, was highly unlikely to win the presidential election, only attracted marginal support. All three defeated parties, Hormood, SAHAN and ASAD, split two ways: part of the candidates went to the government party, the other, to the Kulmiye opposition. Kulmiye evolved into a “complex alliance of interest groups” (Bradbury 2008: 191), including ex-Ufffo members who had been with Hormood, a

29 Aden Yusuf Abokor, interview, Hargeysa 17/03/2003. 30 Mohammed A. Mohamoud ‘Awoowe,’ interview, Hargeysa 29/03/2003. 31 In Awdal, more votes were cast than in Togdheer, which was somewhat odd as the latter is the bigger and more populous region. It turned out that many of the people who voted in Awdal (almost 59% of them for ‘their’ president’s party UDUB) were actually Somali who were normally Ethiopian residents. They were Gadabursi nomads who were in Awdal region because of the drought in the Ethiopian Somali region. Since they were members of Somaliland clans, nobody could stop them from voting (Aden Yusuf Abokor, interview, Hargeysa 17/03/2003). 240 chapter nine religious group, and a number of civil activists, including a good number of women. At the same time, Kulmiye attracted politicians from SAHAN and ASAD who had been associated with Alan As (Lindeman and Hansen 2003; Bradbury 2008: 191). Silanyo’s willingness to accept a reunited Alan As group within his party ranks surprised and worried many internal observers. Politically strong, but radical and unforgiving, the Alan As were feared as possibly causing the end of Kulmiye: as was clear from the results of the local election, peace and stability remained hugely important issues for the Somaliland electorate, regardless of clan allegiance. Yet Alan As was suspected of ignoring or even undermining this message, and thereby potentially causing an early defeat for Kulmiye. And loosing Kulmiye, the only serious challenger to UDUB, would mean loosing the prospect of a “real” election in Somaliland.32 Most of ASAD’s politicians (including Egal’s former arch enemy, Suleiman Gaal) crossed the floor to UDUB’s side, reportedly because “it was the better deal.” ASAD politicians were promised one third of the positions in UDUB party structures, as well as the guarantee that UDUB and the government would pay more genuine attention to Sool region. UDUB/the government had to commit itself to making sure that Sool would be able to vote in the upcoming presidential election.33 Yet Sool’s inhabitants were not unanimously enthusiastic about this agreement. They simply did not want any trouble, and that is exactly what the upcoming Somaliland presidential elections were expected to bring, whether Sool inhabitants actually voted or not, in this politically unstable region claimed by both Somaliland and Abdillahi Yusuf’s Puntland.34 Local clan elders, solicited and bought by either the Somaliland and Puntland governments (or both) were believed to have been involved in political killings in the region.35 And while Somaliland claimed to govern Sool, the Somaliland government was accused of not having a genuine commitment to administer the region or a genuine commitment to

32 Matt Bryden, interview, Hargeysa 11/04/2003; Mohammed A. Mohamoud ‘Awoowe,’ interview, Hargeysa 29/03/2003. 33 ASAD politicians—and the Sool/Sanaag politicians—were well catered for. The ASAD group was ‘given’ 46 members out of 131 of the UDUB Central Committee and 8 members of 36 on its Executive Committee, one of which was Suleiman Gaal. In addition, ASAD won six cabinet posts: three ministers with portfolio (defence, water and public works) and three ministers without portfolio, all from the Eastern Regions—one Warsengeli and two Dhulbahante (Mohammed Ahmed Barre ‘Garaad, interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003). 34 Matt Bryden, interview, Hargeysa 11/04/2002. 35 Yasin Hadji Mahamed, interview, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 241 provide services to Sool’s inhabitants as citizens of Somaliland. Instead, it was suspected of using them in a political power game centred on Hargeysa and Mogadishu. Egal had always been accused (notably by ASAD) of deliberately keeping Sool and eastern Sanaag in limbo until he could win a stake in the Mogadishu government. Riyale was accused of deliberately having blow-up the local peace process preceding the local elections for his own political gain. By incorporating ASAD politicians in to UDUB, Riyale made up with ASAD over cancelling the elections in most of Sool, where ASAD enjoyed a lot of support. Although former ASAD politicians (including some Dhulbahante) were for the most part accommodated and absorbed into the government party, the situation on the ground for the inhabitants of Sool remained politically and economically disastrous. The regions continued to be isolated and disenfranchised.

2.2. The 2003 Presidential Election Local elections had been only the run up to the race for the big prize: the presidency, which would be contested by three candidates: the incumbent president, Riyale (UDUB); his main competitor Silanyo (Kulmiye); and Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe’ (UCID), who did not stand a serious chance in view of the more narrow clan base of his supporters. Thus, the contenders in the race were Riyale and Silanyo. Everyone knew it would be a close call, and the stakes were raised even further when the parliamentary election, which was supposed to be held concurrently, was cancelled. The clash between Somaliland’s two chief politicians turned into a major test of Somaliland’s institutions. This test was passed, but only just narrowly and, at least partially, thanks to the relative detachment (or even irrele- vance) of Hargeysa politics in the lives of ordinary people. The parliamentary election was cancelled because problems had arisen in getting an electoral bill through parliament. Gadabursi members of the Guurti and the House of Representatives refused to pass it, as they were not satisfĳied with the proposed demarcation of parliamentary constituencies. The new bill would give them fewer parliamentary seats than they had under the existing arrangement. To move the process along, it was decided to avoid the demarcation issue for the time being and proceed with the presidential election only. The term of the Somaliland parliament was extended for two years and, in conformity with the constitution, that of the Guurti for three years (Bradbury, Abokor and Yusuf 2003: 476). Personal conversations with some members of the House of Representatives indicated that they were rather satisfĳied with 242 chapter nine this solution and were not inclined to give up their parliamentary seats without a pension arrangement.36 The postponement of the parliamentary election however, meant that the party that won the presidential election would rule the country on its own, without other parties participating in government. There would be no pluralistic legislative branch of government to balance the weight of the executive. Whoever lost the election would have nothing to offfer members of parliament and party executives or stalwarts, since it would have no access to power, fĳinancial means or government positions. It would be very difffĳicult to keep any party going for two years under those circumstances and it was feared that Somaliland would become a de facto one-party state. Against all odds, despite inexperience, lack of technical know-how and sufffĳicient fĳinances, the National Electoral Commission managed to put everything in place for the presidential election by April 14, 2003. This time, because the election was ‘national’ rather than just local, the European Commission had no role in fĳinancing the activities. The European Commission did not want to risk that its support might be considered an implicit recognition of Somaliland as an independent state.37 A few EU member states individually contributed to meet some of the costs for technical assistance and voter education (Bradbury, Abokor and Yusuf 2003: 468). Similar to the December, 2002 local election, local NGOs and women’s organisations provided training for polling station stafff, party representatives and domestic observers.38 International observers, mostly from international NGOs, would witness the preparations and the actual proceedings on polling day. Contrary to what was the case in Mogadishu politics, there was little external interference in the lead-up to the presidential election. Although Djibouti was rumoured to favour UDUB, and Ethiopia was suspected of preferring Kulmiye, neither had acted upon these perceptions. On the contrary, Ethiopia rebufffed attempts of both Riyale and Silanyo to win Ethiopian endorsement (ICG 2003b: 23). Both UDUB and Kulmiye were prepared to fĳight to the bitter end. There was little to distinguish the parties except for the personalities and the clan backgrounds of their leadership. All parties had the same programme:

36 Personal communication. 37 Manfred Gers, interview, Hargeysa 09/04/2003. 38 The Integrity Watch Committee, convened by the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development, worked to get the parties to commit themselves again to the voluntary Code of Conduct. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 243 independence and recognition for Somaliland, economic growth and of course peace. UDUB condensed their goals in its campaign slogan as “Peace and milk,” referring to the times of peace and plenty after the sea- sonal rains. As in the local elections, the UDUB campaign banked very much on the notion of peace in Somaliland and the role that politicians who now were UDUB members had played in securing and maintaining that peace. Therefore, voting for UDUB meant voting for peace and stability. Kulmiye’s public image on the other hand was both enhanced but at the same time tainted by the links of its leaders to the SNM. To some, SNM meant war, while to others it meant liberation. It created fĳissures within the party. UDUB pointed to key Kulmiye politicians, particularly those associated with the Alan As, as trouble makers who were to blame for Somaliland’s episodes of civil war. In UDUB propaganda Kulmiye was ‘war,’ whereas UDUB meant ‘peace.’ In the Kulmiye propaganda, on the other hand, UDUB meant ‘oppression’ whereas Kulmiye meant ‘liberation’ and ‘change.’ Kulmiye pointed to Riyale’s past as an offfĳicer of Barre’s National Security Service, and its operatives referred to UDUB as faqash, a derogatory term used by the SNM militia for Siyyad Barre’s forces. Both UDUB and Kulmiye campaigned hard, soliciting the elders of the countless Isaaq and non-Isaaq sub-clans to sit down with party offfĳicials in one of many party-sponsored qaad sessions to advertise what the parties had to offfer. Once the elders made their decision, they would relay it to the rest of their clansmen, who could then decide what to do with their elders’ opinion.39 Both UDUB and Kulmiye were reported to have organised the buying of votes by handing out money to clan elders. Most of the money however stuck to the hands of the ministers who were supposed to distribute it; some of it, however, was given to a limited number of trusted elders. None of it reached the voters, the players who were ultimately going to call the shots. In the end the handouts are believed not to have influenced the outcome of the election (ICG 2003b: 22). UDUB and Kulmiye campaigned in Sool as well. The regional capital Las Anod was visited by UDUB campaigners—armed, and a group of youngsters supporting Kulmiye. At the same time Dhulbahante gangs, paid by Puntland’s Abdillahi Yusuf, wrecked havoc around the city,40 confounding the local population’s fears that taking Somaliland politics

39 Matt Bryden, interview, Hargeysa 11/04/2003. 40 However, as Bryden pointed out, they were not ‘clan’ militia. The groups of fĳighters were disowned by their clans; their elders did not want to take responsibility for them any more. No diya would be paid when they killed someone. It made them even more 244 chapter nine to Las Anod at that time would make for an extremely tense and dangerous situation. Las Anod residents blamed UDUB for having put them in such a situation: the lead-up to the election was very dangerous and if at all there was going to be an election, in Sool it would not be a genuine one. This course of events led to a widening of the gap between the Dhulbahante and the UDUB government in Hargeysa, with the Dhulbahante feeling they were just a pawn in a political game that did not really concern them.41 Because of security considerations, the NEC decided to suspend voting in 37 out of 147 polling stations in Sanaag and in 87 out of 116 voting stations in Sool (Lindeman and Hansen 2003). In the end, no voting would take place in three out of four Sool districts. The election proceeded as planned on the 14th of April. It was a memo- rable day. Voting was conducted in an orderly and quiet manner. In some instances, long queues formed outside polling stations, one for men and one for women. Party representatives and sometimes domestic observers were present at the polling stations to witness the balloting. Although international observers were somewhat worried about the secrecy of the ballot, the voters themselves obviously did not care at all about this, and some loudly announced whom they would be voting for. They were both proud and happy to do so without fear. This sense of pride, in fact, was remarkable in the polling stations where I was privy to observe42 along with other international observers. “Go tell your countrymen that Somaliland now deserves to be recognised,” voters told the international observers.43 When the voting was over, party representatives and polling station stafff started counting the votes—slowly, meticulously and trans- parently. Any doubt about the validity of a ballot paper and the chairman of the polling station would propose a solution which was then discussed. All decisions were agreed upon by all offfĳicers and all party representatives. International observers corroborated this democratic process in their reports.44 It was a moving occasion, pregnant with hope for the future.

dangerous: they would shoot when ordered to, because that was they were paid to do. Clan militia is diffferent: they would follow an order and shoot, but they would fĳire in the air in order not to hit anyone. They would never shoot their other Dhulbahante ‘cousins’ merely because they are told to do so (Matt Bryden, interview, Hargeysa 11/04/2002). 41 Matt Bryden, interview, Hargeysa 11/04/2003. 42 Saahil region: Berbera, Sheikh, Mandera. 43 Personal observations. 44 See e.g. Lindeman and Hansen (2003) and the report of two Dutch observers Riemke Rip and Annemieke de Wit (Alkmaars Steunpunt Vluchtelingen). somaliland as a model for building proper states? 245

However, after the initial euphoria of free and fair elections, reality hit hard, and the elated atmosphere wore offf almost instantly. In the days after the poll, everyone was waiting for the preliminary results (which would have to be confĳirmed later by the Supreme Court) to be announced. For days, the NEC remained silent. Finally, on the evening of the 18th of April, the NEC announced that the results would be communicated the next day. Rumours that Kulmiye had won the election were very persistent and set offf a festive mood among its supporters. In fact, everyone— friend or foe—suspected that Kulmiye had pulled it offf and had carried the election. Silanyo had already declared victory. One of the Hargeysa newspapers, Haatuf/Somaliland Times, went to press carrying the news that Silanyo was going to win.45 To the consternation of many, on the 19th the NEC issued a statement that UDUB had won by an extremely narrow margin of 80 votes. What followed was a Florida-style thriller, in more than one respect reminiscent of the 2000 United States presidential election.

Table 3. Presidential Election 2003, Results per Region, and Share of each Region in National Vote (Based on Progressio 2006). National Region Valid votes UDUB Kulmiye UCID vote Awdal 65,930 43,347 16,607 5,976 65.7% 25.2% 9.1% 13.5% Sahil 30,537 17,554 10,271 2,712 57.5% 33.6% 8.9% 6.3% Sanaag 57,938 23,359 27,830 6,749 40.3% 48.0% 11.6% 11.9% Sool 9,702 3,715 5,524 463 38.3% 56.9% 4.8% 2.0% Togdheer 115,064 38,105 63,506 13,453 33.1% 55.2% 11.7% 23.6% Woqooyi 208,864 79,328 81,585 47,951 Galbeed 38.0% 39.1% 23.0% 42.8% National 508 187 192 129 constituency 36.8% 37.8% 25.4% 0.1% Total 488,543 205,595 205,515 77,433 42.1% 42.1% 15.8%

45 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 19/04/2003. 246 chapter nine

Kulmiye militants and party offfĳicials were incensed. The suspicion arose that the election result had been engineered. The NEC had been meeting extensively with the chairman of the Guurti and the House of Representatives on the eve of the announcement. Small protests erupted in Bur’o and Gabiley. The government immediately curtailed these erup- tions, banning all rallies and invoking emergency law (Bradbury, Abokor and Yusuf 2003: 468).46 In Hargeysa, Kulmiye activists had taken to the streets. In a highly critical report, African Rights, the human rights organisation headed by Rakiya Omaar,47 severely denounced the government reaction. The report made mention of police intimidation and violence against Kulmiye supporters who were arrested and beaten (African Rights 2003). While the general public remained remarkably calm and composed, even after the announcement of the results, party activists and the political elite in general were agitated and determined to win the presidency, for better or for worse. Four days after the announcement, Kulmiye at its press conference formally challenged the result claiming that there had been miscalculations in the fĳinal tabulation and that in reality Kulmiye had won by 76 votes. In response, the NEC made it known that any complaints should to be taken to the Supreme Court which would pass fĳinal judgement. The NEC refused public recalculations or alterations of the preliminary results as announced. Although he was under severe pressure from his supporters, Silanyo did not form a competing government as many of his constituency demanded (ICG 2003b: 24; Bradbury, Abokor and Yusuf 2003: 469). Kulmiye would take its case to the Supreme Court. In anticipation of Kulmiye’s expected complaint to the Supreme Court, UDUB launched a complaint as well. Although UDUB’s party agents had initially agreed to the NEC’s decision to disqualify certain ballot boxes on procedural grounds, the party now claimed that the NEC had improperly annulled those ballots, a number of which came from pro-UDUB constituencies. In response, Kulmiye dropped its claim of tabulation errors and maintained instead that a ballot box from a pro-Kulmiye constituency (Balle Alanle) had also been improperly omitted in the count. The hear- ings began on the 8th of May, after the Supreme Court had sought clarifĳication from the NEC. In its response the NEC maintained that UDUB’s complaints about the omission of boxes were “baseless.”

46 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 26/04/2003. 47 Rakiya Omaar is a Somalilander from the London Diaspora who had recently returned to Hargeysa. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 247

Concerning Kulmiye’s petition about the Balle Alanle box (n. 627), NEC claimed that the box had not been counted for procedural reasons: there had been irregularities concerning the handling of the box following a security incident that had allegedly involved UDUB supporters trying to disturb the voting. The box was taken to Bur’o, where it was left with the NEC being unable to trace it until after the announcement of the preliminary results. Therefore, according to the NEC, the disposition of the box was a matter for the Supreme Court. Since most of the estimated 700 votes in the box could safely be assumed to be for Kulmiye, counting the box could tilt the election result in favour of Silanyo.48 The Supreme Court, however, refused to have additional ballot boxes opened. In its ruling of the 11th of May, it declared Dahir Riyale Kahin the winner of the presidential election, with a margin of 217 rather than 80 votes. No further explanation was given. Once more, the announcement led Kulmiye’s chairman to challenge the result. The fact that no explanation had been given and the Supreme Court had come up with a totally new fĳigure raised doubts concerning the trustworthiness of the Court. Kulmiye claimed that the court was incompetent (as indeed, most of the Somaliland judiciary was generally considered) and fell short of its required impartiality (all the judges had been appointed by Riyale, who had fĳired their predecessors in a move that had actually been cheered by the Somaliland public). Kulmiye announced to the UN News Information Service that it would not recognise UDUB as the winner of the election and that party offfĳicials would meet to decide on their next course of action.49 Dahir Riyale Kahin and his vice president were sworn in anyway, on the 16th of May in a ceremony attended by UDUB party offfĳicials, the leaders of Parliament, government ministers and the Ethiopian representative in Somaliland. Kulmiye and UCID offfĳi- cials were absent. Silanyo had appealed to Kulmiye supporters to remain calm.50 Nevertheless, Riyale’s fĳirst public address on the 18th of May was characterised by a heightened level of security which African Rights analysed as “suggesting a degree of nervousness new to the body politic of Somaliland” (African Rights 2003). Reports in Haatuf/Somaliland Times make mention of “undeclared curfews,” harassment, beatings, arrests and a general curb on the freedom of movement in Hargeysa.51 Although there have

48 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 10/05/2003. 49 IRIN 12/05/2003. 50 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 17/05/2003. 51 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 24/05/2003. 248 chapter nine been reports of several instances when government security forces intim- idated and mistreated Kulmiye militants, the general public remained largely uninvolved and unmoved. There were no mass rallies, protests or explosions of anger or disappointment. The battle for the presidency was clearly a matter among politicians. Some attributed the public acquies- cence to the “maturity of the public” (ICG 2003b: 19) but others labelled it “a limited power of political entrepreneurs to mobilise the public” pointing out that “in a country where the government, of whatever hue, can offfer little in terms of public services, the public perhaps have little reason to support politicians” (Bradbury, Abokor and Yusuf 2003: 471). More than anything, people wanted peace. Kulmiye stuck to its resistance until the 8th of June. Then, fĳinally, “despite strong grievances of injustice in the election,” Silanyo issued a statement to the efffect that Kulmiye would concede the results of the election in the interest of Somaliland. Reportedly, the party had decided to do so, following an appeal and mediation by the Somaliland Council of Sultaans.52

2.3. The 2005 Parliamentary Election The outcome and the events surrounding the presidential election made the parliamentary election, which was to follow, even more important. In the absence of an elected parliament and strong judicial institutions to control the UDUB government, its political power was unchecked. Somaliland functioned as a de facto one-party state. As the government kept expanding its political control (yet not its services to the people it claimed to be Somaliland citizens), the parliamentary election was held offf for another two years. When it fĳinally happened in 2005, the long overdue election realigned political forces but, as we shall see, did not fully restore political checks and balances. UDUB, Kulmiye and UCID had in July 2003 agreed to hold parliamentary elections within a year. The main problem in keeping to this schedule was agreeing on the legislation that had to be put in place beforehand. There was still no agreement over the distribution of parliamentary seats among the regions; there was no agreement over constituency boundaries; and there was no national census to authorise the distribution of seats among the regions. Somaliland’s legislators, pressured by their clan constituencies and motivated by self-interest (the longer it all took, the longer they could stay in their seats), kept putting offf any legislation on

52 Haatuf/Somaliland Times 14/06/2003. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 249 the matter (APD 2006: 23). Inevitably, the new legislation and the election would alter the political landscape. A key concern was that elections under the multi-party system would improve the representation of bigger clans and diminish the representation of smaller ones. Under the old system all groups were guaranteed a measure of representation, with seats reserved for the diffferent clans and sub-clans. The new system favoured candidates from big clans who were able to muster more support and fĳinancial means. Smaller clans, however, wanted their representation preserved. Gadabursi MPs had already blocked a draft electoral bill in 2003 for this very reason (ADP 2006: 10; Bradbury 2008: 203). Delineating constituency boundaries was highly contentious as well. These boundaries were closely associated with traditional clan territories, and altering them would impact the perceived power relations among clans (Bradbury 2008: 203). Finally, there was still the problem of Sool and eastern Sanaag. Large parts of these regions had not participated fully in the local and presidential elections, because it had been decided that polling there would be too dangerous. The security situation in the region had only worsened since October 2004, when Puntland’s president, Abdillahi Yusuf, had become the head of a new Somali-wide government, which had resulted from the Eldoret talks in Kenya. This development made both the secession of Somaliland and the status of Sool and eastern Sanaag even more problematic. At this point, the opposition parties, because they were not represented in the sitting parliament, and the National Electoral Commission grew impatient with the repeated postponements of the election. Finally in January 2005, parliament, on the urgent request of the president, passed an electoral law that required holding both a population census and national voter registration prior to the election. Because elections were scheduled for March, the law efffectively made it impossible to adhere to that date. Consequently, the law incensed both the public and the media in Hargeysa. It was hoped that the Guurti would reject it. But it did not, passing the law with a two thirds majority, leading to public accusations that Guurti members now “ ‘personally jeopardize[d] the peace, security and political future of Somaliland” (ADP 2006: 22). It seemed clearer than ever that in terms of protecting Somaliland’s political stability and peace, the Guurti was to be considered a spent force. The local NGO Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development (SAPD), funded by the Swiss-based international NGO, Interpeace, in cooperation with the NEC, achieved a breakthrough in the political impasse. 250 chapter nine

In February 2005, outside Somaliland’s constitutional and institutional context, the NEC, the SAPD and the three political parties that would be contesting the parliamentary election compromised on a distribution of parliamentary seats among Somaliland’s regions, thus succeeding where the government and the members of parliament (under severe pressure from their clansmen not to give in) had failed. With the opposition parties UCID and Kulmiye growing increasingly impatient, the extra-institutional compromise now had to make its way through Somaliland’s institutions in order to become legal. President Riyale referred the electoral bill to the Supreme Court, which rejected it on the ground that it would make elections impossible. Finally, in April 2005, the House of Representatives (without the involvement of the Guurti) approved a new electoral bill which included the new agreed upon seat distribution (ADP 2006: 23–24). Again the elections had to be postponed, this time until mid-September. Political tension was high. Again, the term of the House of Repre- sentatives had to be extended, now until mid-October, further draining the patience and resources of the opposition. On top of this, two days after the approval of the electoral bill, the Somaliland police raided Kulmiye’s offfĳices in Hargeysa, allegedly in search of illegal broadcasting equipment. Kulmiye reacted by accusing the government of deliberately whipping up a climate of political crisis in order to postpone the election again (ADP 2006: 25). The tension between political parties was mixed with nervousness about clan representation. One particularly contentious issue in organising the election was the voting/seat allocation in Sool and eastern Sanaag. Once again, voting in these regions was a factor in Hargeysa politics, while most of the regions’ inhabitants were not actually being considered or heard. Sool, where most inhabitants would not be voting for security reasons, was particularly problematic. The electoral law provides that seat distribution in regions in which some districts have not voted be determined by the outcome in districts in which voting has taken place. The law also says that when no voting at all takes place in a particular region, seat distribution there will be determined by the country-wide results. Both Kulmiye and UDUB endorsed the fĳirst provision, hoping to rope in the seats for a whole region with a minimal, very concentrated efffort. The NEC eventually decided in their favour by limiting elections in Sool to one district (Ainabo, mostly inhabited by Habar Ja’lo) and 10 polling stations in Las Anod. This ruling meant that a very small proportion of voters would determine the outcome for the whole region. Concerns were raised that because the Dhulbahante were unlikely to vote, the seats assigned to somaliland as a model for building proper states? 251 these areas would end up being “gifts” to the Isaaq, but neither national politicians as well as local Dhulbahante leaders protested the issue (APD 2006: 27–28). Clan representation also came up, more acute this time, when difffĳicul- ties arose demarcating voting constituencies north of Hargeysa, where Gadabursi and Habar Awal/Isaaq subclans were perturbed about the borders of the constituencies in which they would be voting. The issue could not be solved until a delegation of Guurti members (sponsored by the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development) brokered a solution in which demarcation of borders was simply abandoned, and inhabitants of the area could be convinced to vote in a diffferent constituency of their choice. A similar mission was successfully dispatched to Erigavo, where Warsengeli leaders threatened to boycott the election, because the Warsengeli in non-voting districts would only be accorded two seats in the Somaliland parliament (ADP 2006: 32). More than anything, this election turned out to be about clan representation in the House of Representatives. There were no major diffferences between the programmes of the three political parties. But whereas the presidential election had been a clear-cut contest between three candidates from three parties, campaigning and voting in the parliamentary election involved a complex web of support seeking and support giving strategies in which clan-based allegiances played the most important part. Political parties of course have an interest in selecting candidates who are likely to win their districts. They therefore turned to local clan leaders, who became key in providing nominees for all three party lists, which by law then had to be approved by the NEC. For their part, clans were eager to send their own representatives to Parliament for the prestige of the clan and the promise of enhanced access to state resources, if and when they would become more readily available. Sometimes in the case of larger lineages who were able to fĳind candidates for more than one list, this strategy backfĳired: when the support of the clan was spread too thinly over two or more parties, the result was that none of the candidates was able to win (Progressio 2006: 21). Clan votes were split by the political parties themselves as well: in a few cases a political party would deliberately put a close relative of a candidate on its list. Sub-clans sometimes switched their support from one party to another. Ministers promoted fellow clansmen, even those from another political party. Since most candidates were dependent on their clans (rather than the party or their own pockets) for fĳinancing their campaigns, political parties mattered relatively little and were reduced to 252 chapter nine vehicles for establishing clan representation in parliament (Bradbury 2008: 206–207). This trend was reinforced by the system of open party lists: each party’s candidates competed equally for election, regardless of their position on the list. So even when there was clan equity in composing the list, this could easily be undone in the election itself, when larger clans would vote in their candidates at the expense of the smaller ones. Arguably, the open list system had a negative efffect on the development of the multi-party system and the political parties themselves. It allowed (or even forced) candidates to promote a clan agenda rather than a party agenda. Moreover, it kept the agenda local, rather than allowing it to address urgent national issues. Finally, paradoxically, it caused political competition between clans in a system that had been designed to overcome this phenomenon (APD 2006: 37). The election was eventually held on the 29th of September. Again, it was monitored by national and international observers and considered reasonably free and fair. Only minor irregularities were detected, although all parties tried to cheat. But because the NEC was now on its third election and much more experienced than in 2002, it was much harder to manipulate the process systematically (ICG 2009: 17). Nevertheless, candidates went to great lengths to get maximum benefĳit from whatever support they could muster. Remarkably, considering the resource scarcity of the environment, a huge number of voters voted in another constituency than their own. Candidates, their clans and their parties organised and paid for the movement of an estimated 35,000 people out of Hargeysa to vote in areas where their votes were most efffĳicacious for their sponsors (Progressio 2006: 19). The results were consistent with the two previous elections. UDUB won with 33 seats, Kulmiye came second with 28 and UCID came third with 21 seats out of a total of 82. This outcome was, however, a Phyrric victory for UDUB, since the aggregated opposition won a majority in the House and UDUB was now a minority party in the Somaliland parliament. The president was now potentially subject to parliamentary control. Voting patterns were to a large extent determined by clan and regional afffĳiliation, but not to as obvious an extent as in the presidential election, because the electorate could fĳind clansmen to vote for on each of the party lists. In Awdal, for example, UDUB did not receive the landslide vote from the Gadabursi electorate that it had counted on. In Togdheer Kulmiye, with a strong political support base among the Habar Ja’lo, still had a hard time competing with UDUB’s Habar Ja’lo candidates. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 253

Table 4. Parliamentary Election 2005, Results per Region, and Share of each Region in National Vote (Based on Progressio 2006). Region Valid vote UDUB Kulmiye UCID National vote Awdal 133,026 74,691 26,837 31,498 56.1% 20.2% 23.7% 19.8% Sahil 52,479 21,793 12,355 18,331 7 41,5 23,5 34,9 7,8% Sanaag 89,286 34,727 36,652 17,907 13,3 38.9% 41.1% 20,1 Sool 20,557 9,157 8,964 2,436 3,1 44,5 43,6 11,8 Togdheer 121,751 39,529 47,639 34,583 18,2 32,5 39,1 28,4 Woqooyi 253,229 81,552 95,881 75,796 37,8 Galbeed 32,2 37,9 29,9 Total 670,328 261,449 228,328 180,551 39,0 34,1 26,9

Clan voting patterns, clearly determined the clan composition of the parliamentary representation of each party. For example, 34% of the votes received by UCID were attributed to candidates from the Habar Yunis. 31% of the votes received by Kulmiye were from the Habar Ja’lo and 21% from the Saad Muse/Habar Awal. 31% of UDUB’s votes came from the Gadabursi, 20% from the Habar Yunis. This meant that while UCID and UDUB would each have 8 Habar Yunis MPs, Kulmiye would have only one Habar Yunis MP. Out of a total of 17 Habar Yunis MPs only one would belong to Kulmiye (ADP 2006: 41–43). The election also resulted in several important shifts as a consequence of the new political system which no longer guaranteed each clan a fĳixed number of seats. There were winners and losers now in terms of clan representation as well. Between the Isaaq and the non-Isaaq clans, the Isaaq gained representation by winning nine additional seats over their membership in the old House. This happened at the expense particularly of the Harti clans, especially the Dhulbahante from Sool. Pre-election fears that the Isaaq would win in Sool at the expense of the Dhulbahante because of the small number of polling stations and their location in non- Dhulbahante areas were borne out. The Gadabursi, on the other hand, won two extra seats as a result of the new regional seat distribution agreed 254 chapter nine upon by parliament, while a smaller non-Isaaq clan, the ‘Iisse, saw their seats reduced from fĳive to one. Within the Isaaq clan family, larger clans won seats at the expense of smaller ones: the Habar Awal, the Habar Garhajis and the Habar Ja’lo together now held 51 of the 82 seats. Smaller Isaaq clans lost seats. The so-called ‘minorities’ (also called the Gabooye in Somali) were left with no seats at all, whereas in the previous parliament they had a guaranteed four. Within the big three Isaaq clans, the most signifĳicant change was the dramatically increased representation of the Habar Yunis from seven to seventeen seats (Progressio 2006: 21).

Table 5. Parliamentary Election 2005, Distribution of Seats (Based on Progressio 2006). Region UDUB Kulmiye UCID Total Awdal 7 3 3 13 Sahil 4 2 4 10 Sanaag 5 5 2 12 Sool 6 4 2 12 Togdheer 5 6 4 15 Woqooyi Galbeed 6 8 6 20 Total seats 33 28 21 82 % of seats won 40 34 26

Somaliland ended up with a parliament in which the three big Isaaq clans were more equitably represented. Taking into account that Habar Yunis dissatisfaction with its representation in parliament had been one of the triggers of Somaliland’s 1994–1996 civil war, this was probably a positive evolution, serving to mitigate clan-based political conflicts on the national political level (Progressio 2006: 22). Yet, on the other hand, the increase of Isaaq/Gadabursi seats at the expense of the Dhulbahante and Warsengeli would without a doubt contribute to the latter clans continued marginalisation in the Somaliland political theatre. The under- or non-representation of smaller clans and minorities left a good number of groups without a voice in a context where power relations among clans are politically highly relevant. What the efffects would be of the opposition parties UCID and Kulmiye in control of the parliament remained to be seen. Paradoxically, the parliamentary election, intended as the fĳinal stage in Somaliland’s transition from clan representation to multi-party democracy, exposed (more obviously than the previous two elections) how somaliland as a model for building proper states? 255

Somaliland was still clearly a hybrid political order. In that hybrid political order, now superimposed on a political structure involving winners and losers, sound mechanisms to regulate the struggle for political power (both clan-based and in the realm of the state) were less than established. On the contrary, political and clan-based power struggles among Somaliland’s political actors (be they politicians, elders, businessmen or clan-based power brokers) seemed to reinforce each other, leaving a few civic urban-based organisations, such as the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development (but also other organisations and individuals), to mediate political disputes on diffferent levels and to advo- cate for the development of equitable and trustworthy (state) institutions. The political situation, however, was as unsettled after the election as it had been before. Although it came as a relief that the poll had been conducted peacefully, it was clear to all that the post-election period would be just as critical as polling day itself (APD 2006: 33).

C. Somaliland after the First Round of Elections under the Multi-party System

Did the multi-party system introduce new checks and balances to substitute for the former mediating role of the clan elders? Not immediately. Somaliland became a closed political system: politicians of the three political parties and their associated clan-based power brokers battled for control over state institutions and resources in a contest where the winner took all. During and after the parliamentary election President Riyale’s hold over power hardened. The president increasingly resorted to Barre- style opposition-control, reinstating the ‘security committees,’ initially set up under Egal.53 The committees were manned by government offfĳicials (such as governors, mayors) and security offfĳicers (police and army commanders, prison commanders) empowered to order the detention of individuals or groups of citizens for some public or state security-related reason, without trial or the involvement of the judiciary. According to the Somaliland government, these committees were authorized by Somalia’s 1963 Public Order Law (HRW 2009: 18–19). Although the security committees were not nearly as repressive under Riyale as under the Barre regime, they encountered fĳierce resistance from a number of civic groups, such as

53 Under Egal they met with a formal protest from the then House of Representatives (see http://www.somalilandlaw.com/House_of_Reps_Resolution_on_Security_Committees _010899.htm) 256 chapter nine

Somaliland Human Rights Network (Shuro-NET), which argued that the committees had no basis in Somaliland law or the constitution (Shuro- NET 2007; Somaliland Lawyers Association 2007). Whereas the Egal government had to tread carefully when taking on its political adversaries for fear of antagonizing their clan constituencies, under Riyale political arrests became possible. In January 2007 three journalists of the Haatuf/Somaliland Times Newspaper were arrested without warrant and detained in prison incommunicado. Reportedly the reason for their arrest was Haatuf’s publication of a series of articles alleging corruption on the part of the president and his wife Huda Barkhad (AI 2007). The journalists were tried under the old Somali Penal Code, convicted and sentenced to two years and fĳive months imprisonment, plus a fĳine for “reporting false information about the government, discrediting the president and his family and creating inter-communal tension.” All local and international protests were of no avail. The men were only released after a presidential pardon, implying that they remained guilty (Afrol News 29/03/2007). Four days before the presidential pardon for the journalists, according to a report of Shuro-NET, security forces cracked down on a protest of meat traders in Bur’o who were demonstrating against a doubling of the city’s abattoir fees. Armed police stormed the building and arrested the protesters. The same day, they were sentenced to six months in jail by the regional security committee. The number of reports of similar incidents increased steadily. In September 2007, the Hargeysa Regional Court sentenced three prominent Somaliland politicians (including one of Riyale’s former ministers) to three years and nine months in prison for illegally forming a political party, engaging in unauthorized political activities and putting the good name of the head of state in disrepute.54 The three politicians were also barred from standing for public offfĳice for fĳive years. Eventually the government had to release the men four months later under pressure of Diaspora and local groups. But their ban from taking part in elections was left in place. The Guurti, Somaliland’s Upper House and constitutional guarantor of peace and consensus-building, was not in a position to counterbalance central power. While under Egal the Guurti still had the leverage left to

54 The three politicians were Mohamed Abdi ‘Gabose,’ former government minister; Mohamed Hashi Elmi, one of the SNM founders in Saudi Arabia and former Mayor of Hargeisa; and Jamal Aideed Ibrahim, businessman as specifĳied in the Amnesty International press release that stated that the three had not been granted a fair trial (AI 2007). somaliland as a model for building proper states? 257 make a diffference mediating conflicts between the government and its opposition, this was much less possible under Riyale. The Guurti’s role and status were moot when the multi-party system was introduced. Should it, given the fact that it was a house of clan elders, be elected, or should the members somehow be selected in another way? The 2005 parliamentary election had proceeded without tackling this thorny question. Moreover, Guurti members in fact refused to discuss or consider it. As a result, the parliamentary election only included the lower house, the House of Representatives, leaving Guurti members in their seats. Thus by succeeding in extending its own life, the Guurti considerably undermined its standing as the “unique institution that had been at the heart of clan-based power-sharing and consensual politics in Somaliland, linking modern political institutions to traditional political organization and, by extension, inter-communal politics to national politics” (Kibble 2006). Guurti members were accused of having mainly their own personal interest in mind. Nevertheless, President Riyale unilaterally (and illegally) extended the Guurti’s mandate again in March 2006 (Kibble and Abokor 2007). In 2007, the Guurti then extended the mandate of the local district councils, although it did not have the constitutional power to do so. Reportedly, this happened in collaboration with the president and the leadership of the two opposition parties, neither of which had an interest in risking the emergence of a new political player on the hitherto closed fĳield—a risk they would run if (like in the local election of 2002) the election was opened up to new political associations (i.e. other than the three existing parties) (HRW 2009: 21). After the parliamentary election, overt popular criticism of the political class kept mounting. In face of this criticism, the Somaliland government kept emphasising the benefĳits of recognizing Somaliland as a state to the international community, particularly in view of Somaliland’s potential role as an ally in countering international terrorism and as an island of peace in an unruly Horn of Africa. At home, however, things kept deteriorating. Government and opposition politicians were increasingly mistrusted for being mutually interchangeable, self-serving, and corrupt and for unscrupulously using clan politics to achieve their goals. The use of clan politics afffected relations between communities belonging to dif- ferent clans inside as well as outside Hargeysa. It necessarily also afffected the capacity of local clan elders to make and keep peace. While Somaliland’s ‘traditional’ clan-based mechanisms for regulating and mediating power struggles had eroded, the government itself was disregarding state-based institutions and rule of law on many occasions. 258 chapter nine

When I visited my colleagues working at the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development (SAPD) and at other local NGOs in Hargeysa in early 2008, some of them, weary of the oppressive political climate, talked of leaving Somaliland. A veterinarian I had interviewed in 2001 told me: “We should go back to our old clan-based system. It was a mistake. This isn’t working.”55 Three years later, the mood seemed to have turned. There was a sense of careful optimism in the air when I visited again in the spring of 2011. On the 26th of June 2010 Somaliland had, against all odds, succeeded in holding a peaceful presidential election and yet another smooth transition. Kulmiye’s candidate, Mohamed Silanyo, had carried the election by a comfortable margin (49,59% of votes cast), defeating President Riyale (33,24%) as well as UCID candidate Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe’ (17,17 %). Within 24 hours President Riyale handed over power to Silanyo. Immediately, on the very fĳirst day of Silanyo’s presidency, Riyale’s emergency laws were lifted. Public sector salary backlogs, piling up in the months prior to the election, were swiftly cleared: reportedly, there was a lot more money in the state’s cofffers as Somaliland’s new fĳinance minister, Mohammed Haashi Elmi upon taking offfĳice had dramatically

Table 6. Presidential Election 2010, Results per Region, and Share of Each Region in National Vote (NEC 2010). Region Valid votes UDUB Kulmiye UCID National vote Awdal 81,338 59,605 18,452 3,281 73.3% 22.7% 4.0% 15.1% Sahil 29,211 15,553 10,548 3,110 53.2% 36.1% 10.6% 5.4% Sanaag 58,515 22,580 28,631 7,304 38.6% 48.9% 12.5% 10.9% Sool 20,848 4,034 15,357 1,457 19.3% 73.7% 7.0% 3.9% Togdheer 111,653 21,613 75,746 14,294 19.4% 67.8% 12.8% 20.7% Woqooyi 236,651 55,496 118,172 62,983 Galbeed 23.5% 49.9% 26.6% 44.0% Total 538,716 178,881 266,906 92,429 33.2% 49.6% 17.2%

55 Personal communication. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 259 restrained corruption.56 However, the presidential election, repeatedly postponed (March/April 2008, December 2008, March 2009 and September 2009), had been a close call. On election day the proceedings had been conducted smoothly, but the lingering three-year crisis that pre- ceded it had painfully exposed all the weaknesses of the political system and the deep-seated mistrust between the political actors and their parties, who largely drew on clan-based support. Let us go back to January 2007. According to the constitution, which set a fĳive-year mandate for Somaliland’s presidents, Riyale’s term in offfĳice was supposed to end in May 2008. For any election to happen, however, a new National Electoral Commission (NEC) had to be composed, as the mandate of the former Commission expired in January 2007. The new NEC would be central in overseeing the production of a list of eligible voters prior to the election, a long standing demand by the opposition to prevent vote rigging and ballot stufffĳing by the incumbent government. The process of appointing new NEC commissioners was heavily steered by the president who, disregarding the law and after months of bickering, eventually pushed through his own candidates, who were sworn in on the 9th of September 2007—eight months after the expiry of the previous NEC’s mandate. It was immediately clear that maintaining April 2008 as the date for the election would be impossible. On the 11th of October, the NEC and the political parties agreed to postpone the presidential election until August 2008 and the local election which was supposed to precede it until July. However, the voter registration process proved to be a drawn- out, arduous afffair producing more delays, that resulted in bitter conflict among the parties. Somaliland was experiencing a major constitutional and political crisis that brought it close to the brink of renewed civil war. Only in February 2008, barely four months before the scheduled July election, the NEC and the political parties reached an agreement on a voter registration system that relied on a high-tech biometric identifĳica- tion system (electronic fĳingerprinting). This system required sophisti- cated equipment such as computers, scanners, printers etc. which had to be made operational in even the most remote areas of Somaliland. It also required procurement of material and technical expertise that was not available in-country. Forseeable problems materialised: tendering was slow; time to develop and customize the system for Somaliland was too short; and training of Somaliland personnel woefully inadequate

56 Aden Yusuf Abokor, Interview, Hargeysa, 08/03/2011. 260 chapter nine

(ICG 2009: 6–7). A new postponement of the elections appeared inevita- ble. While the political parties agreed that a postponement was needed, the Guurti, at the request of the president (but referring to its constitutional mandate to delay elections in the face of “circumstances related to security and stability”—Art. 83[5] of the Constitution)—pre-empted them and voted an extension of the presidential mandate by one year. There was profound disagreement between the government and the incensed opposition both about whether the Guurti intervention was jus- tifĳied, and also, about the implications of the intervention. The 2001 Somaliland Constitution neither specifĳied parameters for “circumstances related to security and stability” nor set a course of action in this kind of situation. For the opposition, delaying the election implied installing a caretaker government until an election could be held. For the government it simply meant another extension of the president’s mandate (Walls 2009: 8). Responding to the constitutional and political impasse, external donors (notably the European Commission, the United States, the UK, Norway, Sweden and Denmark)57 who had pledged to provide technical and fĳinan- cial support for the election process now threatened to withhold funding for the planned voter registration. As a result of this external pressure, internal mediation produced an 8-point agreement in June 2008. The newly appointed NEC members and the political parties agreed that the presidential election should be held before 6 April 2009, the end of the extension granted by the Guurti. Local government elections were also postponed indefĳinitely, which abruptly closed offf the possibility that political parties besides the three existing ones would be able to participate in the presidential election.58 Moreover, a further delay of the presidential election would be subject to the mutual agreement of the parties and the NEC. And—the Guurti would be required to duly ratify their decision. Finally, the agreement stated that voter registration would proceed without further delay (Walls 2009: 8). Once the voter registration process started, in Saahil Region in October 2008, it became immediately tainted by large-scale fraud. Clan and

57 Together they form the Somaliland Democratisation Programme Steering Committee. 58 In 2002/2003 the outcome of the local council elections determined which three political associations received political party status and would be eligible to contest in the presidential election. Because the constitution and electoral laws had been drafted with the 2003 election in mind, the law remained unclear on whether the same method would be followed each time round. The government maintained that it had been one offf occurrence and that no new political associations would allowed to become political parties. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 261 political party leaders tried to inflate their group’s numbers by bussing in people from other regions and having supporters register multiple times.59 As pointed out by Walls (2009:9): “clan and party afffĳiliation [had] become intricately linked and the behaviour of registrants [could] be seen as a collective efffort to gain advantage for each simultaneously.” Registration operators were bullied into registering people as voters without taking their fĳingerprints, or into taking prints of just any fĳinger (rather than the mandatory right index one), thereby making possible multiple registra- tions possible. Although the government and the NEC (by now widely seen as inexperienced, incompetent and under the influence of clan manipulation) were aware of the fraud, nothing was done to prevent or penalize it, which encouraged even more widespread rigging of the process in the other regions that followed. The result was a voter list in which 53% of the entries lacked biometric data (ICG 2009: 7–9). Confronted with the obviously flawed list the parties and the NEC agreed to try to clean up the records, by deleting duplicate entries using the photographs taken in the process for facial recognition. However, this would take more time; clearly, the election could not be held on schedule.60 Kulmiye, exasperated, broke offf all communication with the Riyale government, demanding the installation of a caretaker government. Nevertheless, the Guurti, blatantly disregarding the June 2008 agreement, extended Riyale’s term by another six months. The election was postponed until 27 September 2009. Somaliland continued sliding toward open conflict until the Elections Monitoring Board61 intervened to broker an agreement. The opposition, including Kulmiye, accepted the new extension, provided that it would not be extended again, even if elections were still not possible. But president Riyale refused to sign: he argued that

59 Moreover, it had been decided to combine voter registration with the creation of a civil registry and a national identifĳication system. The prospect of a Somaliland identity card attracted many Somalis from Ethiopia and Puntland (ICG 2009). 60 On top of all other delays the registration process had been suspended with 5 weeks after suicide bombers in November 2008 simultaneously attacked the Presidential Palace, the UNDP Compound and the Ethiopian Mission in Hargeysa, causing the Indian contractors who facilitated the registration to pull out. 61 The Elections Monitoring Board had been established following conflicts preceding the 2005 Parliamentary election. The members of the Board (14) were selected in consultation with the political parties. They represented a cross section of society and were chosen on the basis of their moral authority (distinguished religious fĳigures), academic qualifĳica- tions, work experience, etc. and include academics, former senior public offfĳicials, civil society members, etc. Its function was to police infringements of the 2005 Code of Conduct for the Political Parties (established after mediation between the parties by the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development). 262 chapter nine the prohibition of further extensions was unconstitutional. The Elections Monitoring Board, having run out of options, retreated. When the voter list was fĳinally presented on the 27th of July, it was accepted by the opposition parties but rejected by the government. Yet the NEC announced that the election would proceed anyway—without the list. Opposition parties, enraged with the NEC’s decision, staged demonstrations in major towns and tried to initiate an impeachment procedure in parliament. The move was fĳiercely opposed by UDUB parliamentarians and led to brawls and even physical violence in the House.62 Four demonstrators were killed outside the Parliament, when they were fĳired at by the police acting on the orders of a beleaguered government. Rumours that the clans were remobilizing militia were widespread. At the eleventh hour, two days before the 27th of September (the set date for the election), Somaliland’s political parties—under severe international and domestic pressure, but also realising that the alternative was a return to war, reached an agreement. A Memorandum of Understanding was signed: a cleaned up voter register would be used, leadership and composition of the NEC was to be reconsidered and a new election date would be set in consultation with international technical experts (ICG 2009: 10; IRIN 25/08/2009). The Memorandum of Under standing, however vague and noncommittal, proved a political breakthrough that brought Somaliland back from the brink. But it did not constitute a qualitative leap toward a fairer and more balanced political system. Even after the successful 2010 presidential elections, the constitutional and political challenges at the root of the crisis still persist. With the postponed local elections drawing near (President Silanyo, promised them by the end of 2011) several questions seem particularly urgent. Participants in the planning workshop of the Somaliland Non- State Actors Forum (SONSAF) I was facilitating during my 2011 visit were acutely aware of the stakes involved as they drew questions for discussions and public consultation for their 2011 work year. Should new political associations be allowed to participate in the electoral process and given the chance to rise to political party status? If so, should the number of recognised political parties be expanded and under what conditions, given the fact that the limitation was set in order to counter the possibility of parties fragmenting endlessly along clan lines? What about the less than perfect voter register (manipulated by clan and political interests)

62 Somaliland Times 396, 30/08/2009. somaliland as a model for building proper states? 263 and its implications for the seat distribution in the houses of parliament? And indeed, what about the Guurti, the House of Elders the composition of which has remained unchanged since the 1993 Borama Conference?63 What should its role be in the new political system and accordingly, should members be selected by their own clansmen, as before, or in some way or other be elected by the Somaliland citizenry? All these questions fĳit within a common theme: how can the current dysfunctional interplay between political and clan based power-brokering be disentangled and Somaliland’s system of broad consensus-building on a nation-wide level be restored? Somaliland indeed has come a long way, but this is the decisive issue at hand. It is for Somaliland political actors now to negotiate and hammer out the new political and institutional arrangement Somaliland needs to consolidate its hard-won peace.

D. Conclusion

Looking at Somaliland, one cannot help being amazed by the dynamics and the complexity of the emergence of this polity. On fĳirst entering Somaliland in 2001, I had my own Simon Reeves experience. Looking for successful examples of post-war political reconstruction, I became fasci- nated with Somaliland and its apparent state of semi-offfĳicial peace and order within Somalia, a state that no longer really existed any more. Somaliland’s border controls, trafffĳic lights and uniformed police were iconic testimonies to the country’s claim to statehood. More or less naturally, my encounter with Somaliland propelled me into a search for the roots and the nature of statehood and state making outside the Western world. Because it was so prominently isolated as the central element in the making of Somaliland I concentrated on the role of non-Western features in the state-making process, i.e., the so-called ‘traditional’ leaders and institutions. So in sum what do we know about the state that has been produced in Somaliland and, how do traditional leaders and institutions fĳit in? Like most states in Africa and elsewhere outside the small core of Western states, Somaliland is not an example of a classical Weberian state. It is a permanently shifting Hybrid Political Order in which notions associated with Weberian statehood (territory, sovereignty, government etc.) have played an increasingly visible part. Yet, they exist alongside elements

63 Deceased members were often simply replaced by family members. 264 chapter nine associated with traditional (clan) institutions. These, in the contest over political power and economic control interact and intermingle in one and the same political space. Early in Somaliland’s existence, hybrid elements have made for crucial positive contributions to the development of the polity; since then, they have complicated further development of equitable power-sharing on a national level. Arguably, Somaliland’s hybridity has, to an extent, “turned the wrong way.” Politically active clan elders (partly playing by the rules and laws of the Somali clan system) were essential in putting the Somaliland polity on its feet. They had an important role in the SNM and some of the opposing militia that sided with Siyyad Barre; they played a crucial role in brokering cease-fĳires between the Isaaq and non-Isaaq (pro-Barre) clans after the war; and they were instrumental in getting the diffferent Isaaq clans to negotiate about sharing (the very limited) state power. Clan elders also provided local security and in some cases even a limited level of social services. Then President Egal’s ascent to power in 1993 tilted the balance. As the realm of central power expanded, clan-based power brokers— often Hargeysa-based politicians and businessmen with vested interests in statehood as a guarantor of security and market control—overtook the clan elders as pivotal political actors. Though the labels suggesting hybridity (elders councils, clan-based power sharing, etc.) survived, their underlying content changed: patronage privileges gradually substituted for traditional sources of authority as the “ties that bind” clan segments and their—increasingly self-appointed and self-serving agents (Renders and Terlinden 2010: 742). Clan elders (and clan-based rules and laws) are still vital to the central power: they deal with localized conflicts in Somaliland’s heartland (e.g. property conflicts or murders, provided the case remains limited in scope). In its borderlands they represent the only form of security as well as—on the condition of state payment—a kind of very limited government-presence-by-association. Yet, the clan elders no longer have a place at the national level of power negotiation. Somaliland became a hybrid political order serving the interests of an increasingly narrow political and economic elite, one in which security was partly outsourced but power heavily centralised.

What does Somaliland’s history teach us regarding the issue of traditional leaders and institutions in the construction of governance or state-building? What about the idea of intentionally involving them? Could Somaliland really be a model? Clearly, it is not the case that ‘elders’ or ‘traditional’ leaders automatically take up a stabilising, benefĳicial or quasi-governmental role in the absence of a more or less functional state somaliland as a model for building proper states? 265 or government. Their role—and even their very nature—is contingent upon a number of factors that seem time– and space-specifĳic. ‘Traditional’ leadership and ‘traditional’ institutions do not exist in an unchanged form and meaning since times immemorial. They are dynamic and adaptable. They loose old meanings and gain new ones under influence of internal and external stimuli. Clan elders’ are accorded new roles and take on new roles of their own volition. The origins of the Somaliland case are a case in point. Somali politicians from the northwestern Isaaq clan, politically sidelined under the withering regime of Siyyad Barre, tried and to an important degree managed to reconquer, recapture and pacify part of the Somali polity (which became Somaliland) through ‘traditional’ leaders and institutions. This process, however, occurred on multiple levels and evolved over a period of time. Politicians did not simply use ‘traditional’ leaders and institutions to achieve a well-defĳined predetermined goal. Many politicians were and are in fact ‘elders’ in their clans and subject to corresponding pressures, obligations and expectations. The economic and political linkages between Isaaq businessmen, traditional leaders, and politicians that made possible the post-war evolution of a ‘clan-based state’ had been developing way before the actual collapse of the Barre regime. This evolution was not only gradual, but one may also argue that it was more or less coincidental. The current social formation in Somaliland is also the result of an aggregate of factors. Similar structural and individual options have operated in the later development toward a multi-party political system. Without the end of the cold war, for example, things would surely look diffferently today in the Somali region. If an opposition movement like SNM had found an external sponsor, perhaps it would not have been quite so dependent on the Isaaq population and not quite as answerable to Isaaq clansmen as a result. In terms of individual agency—it seems likely that Somaliland would not have been the same place without the political adroitness of Mohammed Ibrahim Egal, efffortlessly juggling clan and state politics. The multiple narratives running through this book help to explain why it is so difffĳicult to replicate the positive outcomes of the ‘Somaliland experience.’ What worked for Somaliland may not work in other cases, at dif- ferent times, in diffferent circumstances. Moreover, the question of whether a state based on indigenous ‘traditional’ leaders and institutions is more legitimate, more accountable and therefore more efffective than imported political forms now seems itself inherently problematic. In every case, ‘tradition,’ ‘authenticity,’ ‘indigenousness’ are politically 266 chapter nine constructed in a diffferent way and, interacting with whatever adaptations to ‘modernity’ exist locally, produce diffferent social and political outcomes. The example of Somaliland, although it has been quite successful in its own right, cannot be transplanted in order to fĳix problems in other African or even other Somali contexts. First, because there are too many parameters and variables. The outcome depends on the context, local and international, historical, sociological, political and even ideological. Second, because the issue is not technical but political by nature. External interveners cannot avoid alleged political spoilers by working via a bypass of traditional leaders as putative a-political societal actors. Traditional leaders are political too. And state-(re)building is an inherently political pursuit, not a technical fĳix. External interveners cannot avoid the political nature of their project by trying to present it as a-political, technical or best-practice solutions. Building and governing a state or any other polity for that matter is subject to the messy reality of politics. This is nothing new, and the Somali case is in this regard not unique. Insofar as a state, a polity or indeed any social formation is makeable, it is at any given point in time the product of a process of establishing, altering and renegotiating power relations among a variety of actors associated with state and non-state spheres. States are not things that can simply be reconstructed after they have apparently broken down. They are more than trafffĳic lights, uniformed police and border controls. They are not immutable constructions. They are more living organisms than lifeless structures, more organically evolving and permanently disputed arrangements than purely functional, legal-institutional constructs. What are the implications for any kind of external intervention in this process? A state is not something that can be built according to a blueprint. State-building is inherently messy, inconsistent and political. This does not mean that external actors should never engage with state- building processes. It does mean that they should know better what they are engaging with and that they should acknowledge that any role they take in that process is political as well, and comes with a political responsibility. As for international engagement with Somaliland itself: for twenty years after its unilateral declaration of independence, Somaliland, despite all the problems and shortcomings in its current political arrangement, has enjoyed an almost uninterrupted period of peace. For this, the people who consider themselves Somaliland citizens deserve credit. Honest, careful and informed international engagement with the challenges Somaliland now faces is the very least they can ask for. BIBLIOGRAPHY

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B. Newletters and Media

Afrol News (www.afrol.com) BBC Monitoring Service (www.monitor.bbc.co.uk) BBC Summary of World Broadcasts, through BBC Monitoring Service Haatuf/Somaliland Times (www.somalilandtimes.net) Horn of Africa Bulletin (www.life-peace.org/default2.asp?xid=316) Indian Ocean Newsletter IRIN–United Nations Integrated Regional Information Networks (www.irinnews.org) Jamhuuriya/The Republican Radio Banaadir, Mogadishu, through BBC Monitoring Service Radio Hargeysa, through BBC Monitoring Service Somalia News Update

C. Interviews

This list contains cited interviews and key interviews I do not directly refer to in the text. It does not contain all the interviews I have conducted during the course of my fĳieldwork. Many of the non-listed interviews were either explorative or served to double check research data. Interviewees are referred to in the capacity they introduced themselves to me. Some of the interviewees remain anonymous.

‘Abbaas,’ Puntland intellectual, Nairobi 21/01/2002. ‘Dr. Abdi,’ Regional Medical Offfĳicer, Las Anod 22/06/2002. Abdi Yusuf Du’aale ‘Boobe’, ex-SNM secretary of the Executive Committee, researcher at the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development, 16/04/2003. Abdillahi Aden ‘Quruh,’ elder and 1995–1996 Habar Yunis negotiator, Bur’o 05/04/2003. Abdillahi Mohamed Ahmed ‘Filter,’ elder and 1995–1996 Habar Ja’lo negotiator, Bur’o 07/04/2003. Abdirahmaan Jim’aale ‘Dherre,’ Borama professional and researcher at the Somaliland Academy for Peace and Development, Hargeysa 20/03/2003. Abdirahman Ahmed Gaas, elder and 1995–1996 Habar Ja’lo negotiator, Bur’o 31/03/2003. Abdirahman Mahamed Ajib, Director General Ministry of the Interior, Hargeysa 18/03/2003. Abdirahman Sheikh Omar, intellectual, Borama 26/03/2003. Abdirizak Osman, Puntland buisnessman, Nairobi 22/01/2002. Abdulkadir Girde, deputy Speaker of the House of Representatives, Hargeysa 09/07/2002. Adam Bahnaan, elder and 1995–1996 Habar Yunis negotiator, Hargeysa 19/03/2003. Aden Muse Jibril, member Peace Committee for Somaliland, Hargeysa 12/04/2003. Aden Yusuf Abokor, Bur’o intellectual, (NGO) stafff CIIR, Hargeysa 08/07/2002; Hargeysa 08/03/2011. Ahmed Dirir Ali, professor, ‘assistant’ to one of Buro’s ‘opposition’ sultaans, Hargeysa 13/06/2002. Ahmed Haashi Abiib, University lecturer, Borama 26/03/2003. Ahmed Hassan Bile, Puntland governor, Las Anod 23/06/2002. 280 bibliography

Ahmed Mahamed Madar, Hormood party representative, Hargeysa 09/02/2002. Ahmed Yusuf Farah, sociologist, Nairobi 21/01/2002. Ali Dirriye Jama ‘Mudubbe,’ elder and 1995–1996 Habar Ja’lo negotiator, Bur’o 06/04/2003. Anonymous Somali businessman, London 29/06/2004. Basha Ali Jama, politician, Las Anod 17/06/2002. Chairman Somali Welfare Society (NGO), Las Anod 16/06/2002. Director SVO (NGO), Las Anod 19/06/2002. Dr. Gaboose, SAHAN party representative, Hargeysa 11/02/2002. Dr. Mohamed Rashid Hassan, anthropologist and sufĳi master, Hargeysa 03/04/2003. Dhulbahante professional living in Hargeysa, interview with the author, Hargeysa 30/06/2002. EU offfĳicer, interview with the author, Nairobi 16/01/2002. Faisal Ali ‘Waraabe,’ politician and presidential candidate, Hargeysa 29/01/2002. Fuad Aden Addeh, politician, Las Anod 24/06/2002. Gadabuursi sultaan I, Borama 25/03/2003. Gadabuursi sultaan II, Borama 25/03/2003. Garaad Abdiqani, Dhulbahante title elder, Las Anod 15/06/2002. Garaad Abshir, Dhulbahante titled elder, Las Anod 16/06/2002. Garaad Suleiman, Dhulbahante titled elder, Las Anod 20/06/2002. Georges Block, UN security offfĳicer, Hargeysa 04/02/2002. Gérard Prunier, sociologist, Paris 03/02/2003. Hadji Jama, Gadabursi elder, Borama 07/02/2002. Haroon Yusuf, Bur’o professional working in Hargeysa for ICD (NGO), Hargeysa 08/07/2002. Hassan Buur, Bur’o professional working for UNDP in Hargeysa, Bur’o 03/04/2003. Hassan Garuf Abdi, Government NGO coordinator, Bur’o 12/06/2002. Hassan Hiss, journalist, Hargeysa 10/04/2003. Hassan Mohamed Ali, Programme Coordinator Vet Aid (NGO), Hargeysa 30/05/2002. Hussein Mahmoud, Hargeysa mayor, Hargeysa 12/04/2003. Ibrahim Ayaanle Mirre, elder and 1995–1996 Habar Yunis negotiator, Bur’o 05/04/2003. Ibrahim Magan, ex-mayor, Borama 23/03/2003. International NGO worker, Las Anod 22/06/2002. Islamist businessman, Hargeysa 09/06/2002. Islamist intellectual, Hargeysa 03/04/2003. Jama Ahmed Kodah, commander custodian corps, Bur’o 12/06/2002. Leslye Rost van Tonningen, partnership coordinator at CARE (NGO), Nairobi 15/10/2002. Mahamed Ali Shirreh, former politician, Las Anod 18/06/2002. Mahmoud Aden Elmi, COSONGO (NGO) umbrella, Hargeysa 28/01/2002. Manfred Gers, international elections consultant, Hargeysa 09/04/2003. Matt Bryden, international consultant, Nairobi 18/01/02, Hargeysa 10/07/02, Hargeysa 18/03/03, Bur’o 06/04/03, Hargeysa 11/04/2003. Meeting with the members of the House of Akils, Bur’o 11/06/2002. Michael Mariano ‘Robleh,’ lawyer, Hargeysa 30/05/2002. Mohamed A. Mohamoud ‘Awoowe,’ Bur’o professional and WSP/SAPD administrator, Hargeysa 29/03/2003. Mohamed Aden ‘Dherre,’ Togdheer elder, Hargeysa 30/03/2003. Mohamed Ahmed ‘Silanyo,’ ex-SNM chairman, Kulmiye presidential candidate, Hargeysa 05/06/2002. Mohamed Ahmed Barre ‘Garaad,’ Gababuursi member House of Representatives, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. Mohamed Dahir Abdi, chief akil elected on Bur’o local council, Hargeysa 30/03/2003. Mohamed Farah Nur ‘Fagadhe,’ Dhulbahante politician, Hargeysa 13/04/2003. Mohamed Haashi Elmi, SNM founder Saudi Arabia, Hargeysa 15/04/2003. Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame ‘Hadraawi,’ poet, ex-SNM cadre, Hargeysa 16/04/2003. bibliography 281

Mohamed Jame Botan, businessman, Bur’o 13/06/2002. Mohamed Muse Bahdoon, former mayor, Borama 23/03/2003. Mohamed Said ‘Gees,’ Minister of Planning, Hargeysa 06/06/2002. Mohamoud Abdi Hamud ‘9,’ former director SRDA (NGO), Hargeysa 08/06/2002. Musa Bihe, SNM military commander, Hargeysa 30/06/2002. Mustafa Rashaad, university lecturer, Hargeysa 04/02/2002. Omar Dahir, journalist, Hargeysa 11/07/2002. Osman Ahmed Hassan, ex SNM cadre, Somaliland Representative in the United Kingdom, London 27/06/2004. Rashid Sheikh Abdillahi, Chairman War Graves Committee, Hargeysa 09/06/2002. Saad Noor, SNM founder Saudi Arabia, Hargeysa 15/04/2003. Saadia Ahmed, NGO offfĳicer Penha/women’s group member, Hargeysa 28/01/2002. Suleiman Awood Jama, elder and 1995–1996 Habar Ja’lo negotiator, Bur’o 06/04/2003. Suleiman Muse Hassan, police commander, Bur’o 12/06/2002. Sultaan Nadiif, Gaboye titled elder, Hargeysa 17/03/2003. UN offfĳicer, Nairobi 17/01/2002. Women’s group member, Las Anod 22/06/2002. Yasiin Hadji Mahamed, Sool politician, Hargeysa 01/04/2003. Youth group member I, Las Anod 22/06/2002. Youth group member II, 22/06/2002. Youth group member III, Las Anod 22/06/2002. Yusuf Awale, Bur’o professional, Bur’o 11/06/2002. Yusuf Buraale, former politician, Las Anod 18/06/2002. Zamzam Abdi Aden, businesswoman/women’s group member, Hargeysa 11/02/2002. INDEX

Aafada 164 Bihe, Musa 118, 213 Abdiqani, Garaad 84, 88, 122, 179, 180, 181, Blue Helmets 119, 120, 121 190, 191, 192 Borama Abdi Waraabe, Haji Abdikarim Hussein capture by SNM militias 90 Yusuf 82, 142 local governance 164 Abokor, General Ismail Ali 72 fn. 30 Borama Conference. See Clan conferences Abshir, Garaad 192 Botan, Ahmad Jama 218 Adan, Edna 230 Botan, Mohammed Jama 207, 218 Addis Ababa Conference (1993) 121, 182 British Commonwealth 39 Adrosh (meeting of SNM and Isaaq British Somaliland 2, 14, 15, 26, 35, 42, 45, elders) 81 64, 70, 92, 123 fn. 16, 195 African Union 16, 50 fn. 24, 186 administration 36, 39, 40, 43, 44, 45 Aideed, General Mohammed Farah 121, Building-blocks approach 186 125, 183 Bur’o Aideed, Hussein 188 fn. 19 bombardment 78 Airport war. See Somaliland civil war local governance 160–164 (1994–1996) opposition against Egal by sultaans Akil 36, 41, 42, 43 (2001) 207 Alan As 94, 95, 99, 100, 103, 132, 143, 199, opposition meeting (2001) 208 203, 233 fn. 19, 239, 240, 243 student protest 62 Al-Itihaad al-Islami 183, 186, 187, 189, 190 Alliance for Salvation and Democracy Cairo Conference. See Somalia (ASAD) 213, 216, 217 Checks and balances 227, 242, 252 elections campaign (2002) 234 Citizenship 201, 220, 231 results 2002 elections 239 Civil war Arab League 126, 186, 229 Somalia (see Somali civil war) Arta Conference. See Somalia Somaliland (1994–1996) (see Somaliland Arteh, Omar 104 fn. 30 civil war (1994–1996) ) ASAD. See Alliance for Salvation and Clan conferences Democracy Ballidhaye Conference (1996) 146 Aw Ali, Abdirahman 91, 94, 103, 112, 170 Beer Conference (1996) 148, 149, 155 fn. 32, 178, 213 Bo’ane Dhulbahante conference Aw Dahir, Abdi 206, 232 (1992) 123 fn. 15, 180 Awdal, local government 112–115 Borama Conference (1993) 99, 100–102, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 117, 122, 124, 127, Ballidhaye Conference. See Clan 136, 142, 143, 146, 148, 151, 155, 156, 158 conferences fn. 6, 166, 170, 180, 226 Barre, Siyyad, xviii 2, 33, 35, 48, 49, Bur’o Conference (1991) 92, 100, 179, 181 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 58, 59, 63 fn. 4, 69, Bur’o Habar Yunis Conference 171, 178, 187 (1995) 138 coup 47 Djibouti Conference (Habar establishing clan militias 83 Awal–Habar Yunis) 96 fall of regime 79, 84, 91, 95 Durugsey Conference (1996) 146 state of emergency 61 Erigavo Conference (1993) 110–112, Beel 155 122, 180 Beer Conference (1996). See Clan Garadag Conference (1992) 108 conferences Gashaamo Conference (1996) 145 Berbera port 56, 93, 95, 97, 127, 135, 170, Hargeysa Conference (1996–1997) 148, 171, 177, 219, 230 fn. 5 154–159, 198, 202 284 index

Libaan I (1993) 137 Durugsey Conference (1996). See Clan Libaan II (1994) 137 conferences Mandera Conference 147 Sheikh (Tawfĳiiq Conference) 98 Eastern Alliance 106, 108, 109, 205 Clan institutions 45, 67, 87, 90, 117, 159, Egal administration 103, 117, 142, 216 198, 222, 226, 227 1995 conflict with Habar Yunis 138 Clanism 21, 44, 68, 76 demobilizing clan militias 126, 128 Clan militias development policies 168, 169 adabursi 83 economic policy 156 demobilisation 101, 118, 126, 128, fĳinancial policies 134, 164, 170 153, 226 international (aid) agencies 167 Dhulbahante 83, 88, 178, 179 international donors 118, 169 Gadabursi 83, 88, 90, 91 fn. 7, 113, international recognition 119, 126, 197 114, 160 local government 114, 141, 160 Garhajis 98 opposition from Habar Yunis 199 Habar Awal 95, 96 oppostion by Bur’o sultaans 206–208 Habar Ja’lo 94, 95, 96, 138, 144 position on reunifĳication 200 Habar Yunis 94, 95, 96, 138 Somaliland nationalism 170 Idagalle 96, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, trade policy 140 138, 142 UNOSOM II, 122, 124 Warsengeli 83, 88 Egal, Hajj Ibrahim 43 Clanship 9, 33–35, 37, 40 fn. 9, 45, 56, 57 Egal, Mohammed Ibrahim 43 Committee for the Registration of Political death 221 Associations and the Approval of elected President of Somaliland Parties 203 (1993) 102 Conference on National Reconciliation founding UDUB, 203 in Somalia. See Addis Ababa Conference President of Somaliland 103 Constituency boundaries 215, 216, 231, 248, re-election (1997), 156 249, 251 secretary of the Somali National Constitution 156, 157, 198, 200, 209, 210, League 44 216, 221, 259, 260 Elections Constitutional elders 226, 227 civic education 233 Convergence thesis 19, 20 international observers 237, 242, 244 Customary law 163 local elections 2002, 234–241 Daar, Mohammed 17, 20 planned 2011, 262 Dahabshiil, Mohammed Saeed parliamentary election Du’aale 210 2003 (postponed), 242 De facto states 17 2005, 248–255 Degaweyn, col. Ibrahim Abdullahi presidential election Hussein 95, 219 2003, 241 Derwish War 38, 39 2010, 258 Development theory 21, 42 cancellation (2001), 216 Dhabar Jabinta 63 results Dhere, Mohammed 188 fn. 19 2002 elections 237 Dhulbahante 180, 181, 185 2005 parliamentary election 252–255 garaads in politics 190–192 2010 presidential election 258 peace making with Isaaq 179 voter registration problems 260 war with SNM in Sool 178 Elections Monitoring Board 261 Dilla, town destoyed by SNM militias 90 Electoral Law 214 Diya 41, 42, 48, 65, 108, 111, 114, 162 Erigavo Du’ale, Abdillahi 1, 2 Habar Yunis administration 105 Dualism 22 occuption by SNM militias 88 index 285

regional peace conference Ballidhaye Conference (1996) (see Clan (1993) 110–112 conferences) Beer Conference (1996) (see Clan Failed state. See State, failure conferences) Failed States Index 18, 21 Durugsey Conference (1996) (see Clan conferences) Gaal, Mohammed Suleiman Aden 99, 204, Gashaamo Conference (1996) (see Clan 205, 207, 213, 216, 218, 219, 234, 240 conferences) appointed governor of Bur’o 142 peacemaking with Harti (1992), 108–109 arrested 204 Somaliland civil war (1994–1996), 138 presidential candidate (1997), 204 Gashaamo 144 Somaliland Minister of the Interior 94 Habar Yunis Gaboose, Dr. Mohammed Ali 213 Ballidhaye Conference (1996) (see Clan elections campaign (2002) 233 conferences) Gadabursi Beer Conference (1996) (see Clan alliance with SNM 90 conferences) local government in Adwal 112–115 1995 conflict with Egal Gani, General Mohammed Haashi 61, administration 138 187 Durugsey Conference (1996) (see Clan Garaad 36, 88, 89, 194 conferences) Garowe 6, 14, 123, 189, 195 Gashaamo Conference (1996) (see Clan Garowe constitutional conference conferences) (1998) 184, 190 land issues with Harti 109 Gashaamo 138, 144, 145 opposing Egal administration 137 Gashaamo Conference (1996). See Clan peacemaking with Harti (1992), conferences 109–110 Gees, Mohammed Said 110 Somaliland civil war (1994–1996), 138 Minister of Planning 169 Gashaamo 144 Ghalib, General Jama 128 Habar Yunis conference (1995). See Clan Girde, Abdulkader 202 conferences Grand Conference of Northern Peoples. Haile Selassie, emperor of Ethiopia 46 See Clan conferences, Bur’o Conference fn. 18 (1991) Haji Jaama Mohammed Ugaas Elmi 114 Greater Somalia 50, 51 Hargeysa Guelleh, President Ismail Omar 186 air bombardment 59 Guurti 89, 101, 142, 143, 147, 155, 162, 209, airport 1, 6, 95, 98, 128, 171, 204 210, 214, 215, 216, 217, 220, 226, 234, 249, airport war 127 256, 263 bombardment 78 Gadabursi Guurti of 21, 97, 98, 112, 113, student protest 62 114, 180 Hargeysa Conference of National Habar Awal guurti 150 Communities (1996–1997). See Clan Habar Yunis guurti 145 conferences Isaaq guurti 81, 88, 99, 100 Hargeysa self-help group. See Ufffo Isaaq guurti in Sanaag 105 Hargeysa Women Community 210 national Guurti (see Guurti) Harti 108–109, 109–110 regional guurti in Sanaag 111 Harti Sheikh SNM guurti 91, 92 refugee camp 134 Warsengeli guurti 89 trade 134 Guus, Abdi Mohammed Muuse 113 Hassan, Abdiqasim Salad 187 Heer system 41, 42, 68, 161 Haabsade, Ahmed Abdi 230 fn. 8 Hormood 211, 212 Haashi, Mohammed Elmi 65, 258 elections campaign (2002) 233 Habar Ja’lo House of Akils 162 286 index

House of Elders. See Guurti Land disputes 83, 105, 111, 114, 161, House of Representatives 101, 102, 138, 155, 163, 165 164 fn. 23, 202, 203, 208, 209, 210, 214, 215, Laws 220, 221, 241, 246, 250, 251, 257 Law of the Referendum on the HPO. See Hybrid political orders Constitution 201 Hybrid political orders (HPO) 28, 29, 60, Law on the Structure of the Ministry of 87, 104, 117, 127, 153, 154, 222, 225, 226, Internal Afffairs and the 255, 263 Administration of the Regions and the Districts 215 ICG. See International Crisis Group Presidential and Local Council IGAD. See Intergovernmental Authority Elections Law 214 for Development Public Order Law 255 Imagined community 221 Regions and Districts Law 231 Indigenous institutions. See Traditional Regulation of Political Associations and institutions Parties Law (RPAPL), 202, Initiative and Referendum Institute 201 203, 211 Intergovernmental Authority for Somaliland Citizenship Law 201, 231 Development (IGAD) 182, 186, 229 Somali Penal Code 256 International (aid) agencies 166 Lewis, I.M., 40, 42 International Crisis Group (ICG) 16 Interpeace 249 Madar, Sheikh Ibrahim Sheikh Yusuf Invention of tradition 25 Sheikh 81, 82, 90, 97, 101, Isaaq 2, 9 142, 155, 216 founding of SNM 2 Mad Mullah 38 intra-Isaaq civil war (1992) 3, 96–98 Mahdi, Mohammed Ali 104 fn. 30 Isaaq Council of Elders. See Guurti Mandera 118 Isaaqism 68 Mandera Conference. See Clan Isaaqiyya Islamiyya 81 conferences Islamic brotherhoods 37 Mandera high security prison (1983 attack Italian Trust Territory of Somalia 45, 70, by SNM) 73 123 fn. 16, 195 Mariano, Michael 45 fn. 17 Mengistu Haile Mariam 50, 69, 78 Jama, Deega 230 fn. 8 Ministry of National Planning and Jama, Garaad 88 Coordination 169, 171 Jama, Jama Ali (President of Mirre, Ahmed 145 Puntland) 189 MOD-alliance 178 Jigjiga 51 Modernity 21, 27 Modernization theory 24 Kahin, Dahir. See Riyale Mohammed, Abdisalaan Sultan 89 Kahin, Mohammed 72 fn. 29, 93, 94 Mohammed, Ahmed. See Silanyo, Ahmed Kamungo, Leonard 122 Mohammed Karim, Ataul 125 Morgan, General Mohammed Said Kent, Randolph 219 Hirsi 77, 188 fn. 19 Khalil, Mohammed Ibrahim 157 Multi-party system 9, 11, 84, 156, 157, 158, Kulmiye 229 159, 198, 202, 203, 208, 222, 227, 249, 252, after 2002 elections 239 255, 257 elections campaign (2002) 233 presidential election (2003) 241, 242 Nadiif, Muse 72 fn. 29 results 2002 elections 237 National Electoral Commission results 2005 parliamentary election 252 (NEC) 214, 215, 216, 218, 235, 236, 237, results 2003 presidential election 245 242, 244, 245, 246, 247, 249, 250, 251, 252, 259, 262 Labaatan Jirow maximum security National myth 3, 4, 87 prison 63 National Refugee Commission (NRC) Land Court 165 53, 54 index 287

National Security Service (NSS) 49, 62, 77, elections campaign (2002), 232, 235 178, 228, 243 President 221 Nation-building 121 presidential election (2003), 241 NEC. See National Electoral Commission re-elected president (2003), 247 Noor, Saad 65 results 2003 presidential election 245 NRC. See National Refugee Commission Vice president of Somaliland 160 NSS. See National Security Service RVF. See Rift Valley Fever Nuh, Sheikh Ahmed 82 Nur, Yasiin Ahmed Hadji 178 SAHAN, 213, 217 elections campaign (2002), 233 Ogaden 35, 50, 53 fn. 27, 64 results 2002 elections 237 fn. 8, 69 Sahnoun, Mohammed 95 refugees 53, 54, 61 Samatar, I. M., 76 fn. 44 Ogaden War 51, 52, 60, 61, 64 Sanaag 105, 112, 185, 250 Omaar, Rakiya 246 SAPD. See Somaliland Academy for Peace Oog agreement, Isaaq and Dhulbahante and Development (1991) 88 Sayyid Mohamed Abdallah Hassan 37, 38 Operation Restore Hope. SDRA. See Somali Development and Relief See UNOSOM II Agency Organisation of the Islamic Sheikh Madar 37 Conference 186 Shine, Aden 72 fn. 29 Shir 42, 76, 107, 155 Pastoral democracy 40, 42, 81 Shirmaarke, Abdirashid Ali 47 Patronage 11, 30, 35, 53, 54, 56, 57, 59, 154, Silanyo, Ahmed Mohammed 146 fn. 71, 156, 189 fn. 21, 222, 225, 227, 264 158, 218 Peace Charter for the Somaliland chairman of SNM, 73, 80, 81 Clans 101 elections campaign (2002), 233 Peace Committee for Somaliland 145, 147, minister in Barre government 66 149, 150, 154 presidential candidate for Kulmiye 229 Piracy 17 presidential election (2003), 241 Political associations 203, 211, presidential election (2010), 258 257, 262 President of Somaliland 258 Port Authority 171 results 2003 presidential Postcolonial state 27 election 245, 247 Post–Washington consensus 23 Somaliland Finance Minister 172 fn. 37 Puntland 184, 189, 240 SNL. See Somali National League SNM. See Somali National Movement Qaad 1, 8, 56, 57 fn. 31, 114, 129, 135, 233, 243 SNP. See Somali National Party Qaalib, Jama Mohammed 132 Social Services Voluntary Organisation Qalib, Omar Arteh (SOSVO) 113 elections campaign (2002), 233 Somalia Arta Conference (2001) 186, 187, 188, 191, Rabasso, meeting of SNM and Isaaq clan 197, 199 elders (1985) 75 Cairo Conference 183 Radio Halgan 72, 74 Eldoret Conference 229, 249 Radio Hargeysa 2, 129, 131, 200, 220 Sodere Conference 182, 183 Ragga u Dhashay Magaalada 62, 63 Transitional Charter (Addis Raghe, Ahmed 72 fn. 29 Conference) 121 Region 5, 140, 144, 171 Transitional Charter (Arta Rift Valley Fever (RVF), 172 Conference) 187 Riyale administration 228, 257, 259 Transitional National Assembly 187, 189 domestic policies 230 Transitional National Council 121 foreign policy 229 Transitional National Government 104 political opponents 255, 256 fn. 30, 123, 187, 187 fn. 18, 188, 189, 190, Riyale, Dahir Kahin 197, 198, 210, 229 288 index

Somalia Uncensored, newspaper 62 guurti 81, 91, 93, 96, 97 Somali civil war 33 internal power struggles 72, 73, 74, 77, Somali Commercial Bank 55, 56 87, 93, 94, 95, 98, 99, 104 Somali Democratic Alliance 125, intra-SNM-war 138 125 fn. 26 leadership 10, 59, 68, 70, 72, 73, 74, 79, Somali Democratic Islamic Movement 65 81, 82, 84, 85, 87, 88, 90, 91, 93, 96, 98, Somali Development and Relief Agency 100, 117 (SDRA), 106, 111 Libya 71, 73 Somali diaspora operations 71, 77–79, 82, 85 Saudi Arabia 64, 65, 67 Rabasso meeting (1985), 75 United Kingdom 66, 67, 69 Somaliland nationalism 151 Somaliland Somali National Party (SNP), 67 secession 92, 104, 178–180, 195 Somali Patriotic Movement (SPM) 84, shilling 134 123 fn. 16 Somaliland Academy for Peace and Somali Reconciliation and Development (SAPD), 237, 249, 251, Restoration Council (SRRC) 188, 255, 258 188 fn. 19, 189, 229 Somaliland civil war (1994–1996) Somali Revolutionary Socialist Party Airport war 127 (SRSP) 49 Bur’o 138 Somali Salvation Democratic Front Gashaamo 144 (SSDF) 52, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 123, 184, 234 Somaliland Council of Sultaans 208, 209, Somali Salvation Front 52, 70 fn. 24 210, 211, 217, 219, 228, 248 Somali Welfare Association 67 Somaliland Human Rights Network 256 Somali Youth League (SYL), 44, 45 Somaliland identity 226 fn. 17, 47 Somaliland National Army 118, 126, 129, SONSAF. See Somaliland Non-State Actors 130, 131, 144 Forum Somaliland National Charter (1993) 202 Sool 185, 234, 243, 250 Somaliland National Demobilisation SOSVO. See Social Services Voluntary Commission 128 Organisation Somaliland Nationalism 198 SPM. See Somali Patriotic Movement Somaliland National Referendum SRRC. See Somali Reconciliation and Committee 202 Restoration Council Somaliland Non-State Actors Forum SRSP. See Somali Revolutionary Socialist (SONSAF) 262 Party Somaliland Protectorate. See British SSDF. See Somali Salvation Democratic Somaliland Front Somali National Army 52, 71, 77, 78, 79, State 200, 209 banana test 14 Somali National Democratic Party 66 failure 9, 14, 17–21, 22–24, 29, 57 Somali National League (SNL), 44–45 Montevideo Convention on Rights and Somali National Movement (SNM) 9, Duties of States 15, 16 64–67, 79, 84, 178, 179 postcolonial state 22, 23 Adrosh meeting 81 Weberian state 18–21, 24, 27, 28, 29, 87, clan relations within 59, 60, 67, 68, 70, 153, 154, 159, 160, 225 75, 82, 90, 105, 178 State-building paradigm 3, 9, 11, 14, 22, 24, 1984 congress 73 25, 27, 29, 31, 153, 225, 264 1990 Congress (Almis–Bale Gubadle), 81 Statehood 11, 14, 15, 17, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 44, 1987 Congress and political 58, 104, 112, 117, 137, 154, 159, 189, 194, 197, manifesto 75 198, 221, 225, 227, 228, 263, 264 constitution 92 criteria 30 demobilization 128 mediated statehood 159 diaspora 60, 62, 64, 65 Statelessness. See Stateless societies in Ethiopia 69, 71, 72, 78 Stateless societies 19, 170 foundation 2, 67 Suleiman, Garaad 88, 179 index 289

Suleyman, Adan 72 fn. 29 UNHCR. See United Nations High Sultaan 36, 42, 43, 88, 89, 145 Commissioner for Refugees Sultaan Hersi Qani 219 Union of Islamic Courts 187 Supreme Court 49, 214, 221, 230, 231, 245, United Nations High Commissioner for 246, 247, 250 Refugees (UNHCR) 134 SYL. See Somali Youth League United Nations Security Council (UNSC) resolution 794, 120 Technicals 71, 92, 111, 128 resolution 814, 120 fn. 6 Toon, battle at 130 United Somali Congress (USC) 75, 84, 87, Trade 55, 56, 57, 129, 140 92, 123 fn. 16, 125, 183 Habar Awal 132 United Somali Front (USF) 125, 125 Habar Garhajis 132 fn. 27 livestock 39, 43 fn. 14, 46, 55, 57, 72, 83, United Somali Party (USP) 123, 124, 90, 108, 132, 133, 134, 160, 171–173, 125, 184 179, 213 UNOSOM II 117, 119, 120, 122, 123, 124, ban 173, 174, 213 125, 126, 137, 151, 153, 181, Traditional institutions 4, 9, 14, 19, 21, 22, 184, 199 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 39, 42, 43, USC. See United Somali Congress 257, 263 USP. See United Somali Party Transitional Charter (Borama Conference), 101, 102, 118 Voting rights 201 Tuur, Abdirahman 124, 130, 132, 136, 137 chairman of SNM, 81, 92 Wadadiid, Hassan Aden 143 President of Somaliland 93, 94, 95, 96, Waraabe, Faisal Ali 149 fn. 80, 212 98, 100, 117 elections campaign (2002) 233 presidential election (2003) 241 UCID, 211, 217 presidential election (2010) 258 presidential election (2003) 241 Warlords 3, 25, 119, 120, 194 presidential election (2010) 258 War-Torn Societies Project (WSP), 5, 6, 9 results 2005 parliamentary Western Somali Liberation Front election 252 (WSLF) 50, 51, 52, 78 UDUB World Bank 20, 23, 24, 30, 31 after 2002 elections 240 structural adjustment 30, 54 elections campaign (2002) 232, 233 WSLF. See Western Somali Liberation founding 203, 206 Front internal rivalry 232 WSP. See War-Torn Societies Project presidential election (2003) 242 results 2002 elections 237 Yasiin, Ahmad Yusuf 229 results 2005 parliamentary Yusuf, Abdillahi 52 fn. 26, 188, 189, 191, 195, election 252 234, 243 results 2003 presidential commander of SSDF, 69, 123, 184 election 245 President of Puntland 185 Ufffo 62, 77, 85, 113, 212, 239 President of Somalia 249