Somali poets often delve into the intricate depths of philosophy and social critique. A shining example of this is Hadrawi, whose poem ‘Dabo-Huwan’ sharply critiques neoliberalism and the ripple effects of globalization. He argues with fervor that the relentless chase for material wealth has corroded the moral core of Somali society. In his view, the modern fixation on individual desires has inadvertently catalyzed the erosion of time-honored cultural virtues—endurance, harmony, trust, honesty, unity, and, most importantly, an overarching sense of communal love.
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It’s a stark reality we can all recognize; our world is fraught with suffering, both personal and societal. This suffering often seems compounded by the absence of a universal moral compass, one that might guide us in a more positive direction. Humans, unlike animals who act primarily on instinct, can intentionally inflict harm upon one another. A poignant illustration of this moral decay is the ongoing tragedy in Gaza. How do we make sense of such widespread violence? In the midst of this bleakness, it’s intriguing to consider that many thinkers have wished to escape their circumstances, longing instead to be birds, unencumbered by the weight of human existence.
Figures like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, disenchanted with modern life, idealized birds for their purity and freedom. He saw them as symbols of innocence, representing a state of being that civilization had tainted. Similarly, Arthur Schopenhauer viewed birds as metaphors for liberation from the relentless suffering of existence. Rainer Maria Rilke utilized birds to symbolize spiritual transcendence—a joyful instinct that stands in stark contrast to the burdens of human self-awareness. Friedrich Nietzsche, too, incorporated birds, particularly eagles and doves, to evoke ideas of strength and creativity. For these thinkers, the bird embodies a longing for a less destructive existence—a simplistic beauty we humans seem to endlessly complicate.
This exploration brings us to Abdi Ali Wayd, a young Somali songwriter whose life was tragically cut short. In his work, Abdi expressed his yearning for liberation from the brutal realities life often imposes—both through external circumstances and the malice of others. He, too, sought to become a bird, symbolizing a life that transcends worldly struggles. The metaphor is powerful: birds symbolize joy, innocence, love, and communion—ideals that sharply contrast with the complexities and disappointments of the human condition.
Reflecting on this emotional aspiration, we can see that Abdi’s longing is a universal sentiment. Many of us, when faced with life’s injustices, find ourselves idolizing the bird—a creature devoid of the drama that burdens our existence. Throughout history, this sentiment resonates deeply. Take, for instance, the life of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), who faced betrayals not just from non-believers but even within his own community. The treachery of figures like Abdullahi ibn Ubayy ibnu Salool, leader of the hypocrites, illustrates how deeply ingrained these human tendencies are.
Leadership has its own set of challenges. It always strikes me as fascinating how leaders expect unwavering love and support, often in stark contrast to the complexities upon which societies operate. A vivid example is Abiy Ahmed, who, at a tribal conference, emotionally probed his audience, asking, “Maxaad iiga doonaysaan, ood igu haysataan?” (“What do you want from me, what have I done wrong?”). His heartfelt plea speaks volumes about the harsh realities of political dynamics that cannot guarantee loyalty.
The same predicament appeared when Mohamed Siyad Barre found himself surrounded by forces that challenged his authority. He couldn’t comprehend why people would rebel rather than continue their lives as usual. And as President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud faced armed opposition in Mogadishu, one can almost hear him echoing similar questions: “Why the resistance? Why can’t we live in peace?”
President Mustafe Cagjar, too, expressed a similar sentiment at a public meeting, recounting his contributions while questioning his clan’s dissatisfaction. By asking, “You didn’t oppose Abdi Iley—what do you want from me?” he highlights a crucial point: the political context has significantly changed. Mustafe’s failure to recognize this transformation underscores the complexity of political allegiance, which often stems more from political interests than mere tribal loyalty.
In closing, as we reflect on the Somali political landscape, it becomes paramount for aspiring leaders to recalibrate their expectations. The notion of unconditional admiration or loyalty is a rarity, if not an illusion. Support is frequently contingent upon personal or political interests rather than heartfelt allegiance. Even loyalty from one’s own sub-clan will fade unless it aligns with their perceived interests. Consequently, effective leadership requires a grounded understanding of human behavior rather than an overreliance on emotional appeal or assumed loyalty.
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times International – Monitoring.
About the Author
Mohamed Rage Hassan is an independent researcher based in Hargeisa, North Western State of Somalia. He holds a BSc in Economics and an MA in Public Administration with a focus on public policy and institutional development. He has written several research papers and analytical articles on governance, political economy, and social systems. Currently, he is pursuing an interdisciplinary MSc at the University of Bonn in Germany, concentrating on welfare systems, social policy, and humanitarian project development.
