Edward Wadie Said, that illustrious Palestinian-American scholar, quipped once about the complexities of identity — a mosaic of history, culture, and power dynamics. “Identity is never singular,” he’d muse. Isn’t it intriguing how a single word can knot up a nation, uproot communities, and foster divisions we’ve long pretended to absolve? Germany’s Otto von Bismarck might have celebrated realpolitik, yet contemporary narratives in Russia and Ukraine paint a different scene, stirring deep-seated animosities tracing back to the Kievan Rus’ epoch. A legacy war, if you’ll allow, a clash over roots from eons past.
The remnants of the Soviet Union have etched cavernous chasms, progenitors of resentment, shaping modern disputes. Leaders tethered to ancient legacies joust, while citizens stagger despairingly through war-ravaged streets. A painful reflection, really, of how history disregards none in its relentless course.
Consider too, the relentless strife in Gaza. The flicker of conflict between Palestine and Israel serves as a stark reminder of history’s unrelenting sorrow — lives lost, dreams silenced beneath ruins, each brick a narrative of human tragedy. “We all bleed the same color,” they say, but narratives of division persevere, unwilling to concede to shared humanity. Isn’t it time we let compassion dictate our rhetoric?
Globally, nations wrestle with identity crises. From Somalia’s rugged terrains emerges a similar narrative. Du Bois captured it perfectly: “A people without knowledge of their past is like a tree without roots.” The fractures in Somalia mirror its forgotten roots, as shifting sands of clan allegiance stir conflict and brew instability.
Recall Rwanda, 1994 — an ethnic ballet of woe and genocide. Hutus and Tutsis, an unbearable legacy unfolding over 100 tragic days, leaving a scar yet to fully heal. Rwanda’s Gacaca courts, a community’s courageous reconciliation, paved a path toward fragmented peace. Can Somalia trace a similar arc?
And closer still, Kenya’s 2007 post-election unrest. A political tempest ignited by ethnic Kikuyu and Luo resentments, writing tales of loss and dislocation. But in its aftermath, resilience blossomed. A new constitution, the fruits of justice and reconciliation — a nation daring to confront its spectral past.
Somalia stands at a crossroad laden with historical, tribal, and political quandaries. Clan politics cloud governance, extending the shadow in which extremist factions find fertile ground. Must not now be the moment for collective venture, emphasizing an invigorated national identity and governance strategy?
Why, then, do we shackle ourselves to division when diversity heralds strength? Are not our Somali roots, defined by language, faith, culture, and history, a testament to unity? Prioritizing resolution over regional autocracies — North Western State of Somalia, Northeastern State, Jubaland — could usher focus onto salient causes presently eclipsed by division.
Imagine a fabric untainted by clan and political strife. As one Somali clan, united not vying for supremacy but engaged in mutual growth, what heights could we reach? Somalia can rebuild the greatness it once envisaged — for a united Somalia radiates the potential of shared strength in defiance of the odds.
Inherent here is a call not just to preserve our identity but to evolve it. Nourished not by division, but unity; aware not of old grievances, but potential paths forward. Shared awareness is the key — a Somali Project if you will, focused on holistic national growth and inclusion.
Mr. Sadik Warfa, experienced in international relations and a staunch advocate for Somali unity, holds that the answer lies in commitment toward an inclusive future, weaving together the strands of Somalia’s rich tradition into a cohesive tapestry.
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times International–Monitoring
