Deputy Senate Speaker holds talks with North Eastern State Speaker in Mogadishu

Somalia’s Quiet Test of Federalism: A New State’s Speaker Knocks on Mogadishu’s Door

In the thick summer heat of Mogadishu, a meeting that might have gone unnoticed told a larger story about where Somalia’s fragile federal experiment may be heading. On Tuesday, Abdullahi Ali Hirsi Timacadde, the Second Deputy Speaker of Somalia’s Upper House, hosted Dr. Adan Abdullahi Aw-Hassan, the Speaker of the North Eastern State Parliament, for talks that were part ceremony, part signal, and all politics.

The official readout was spare: briefings on legislative activity in the newly formed North Eastern State, a survey of political and social developments there, and a framing around cooperation with the Senate, which constitutionally represents federal member states. But in Somalia—where state formation remains a moving target—such encounters amount to careful choreography. They are moments when political actors gauge what’s possible without saying too much out loud.

Why this meeting matters

Somalia’s Senate exists to be the chamber of the regions. What those regions are, who leads them, and on what terms they engage with Mogadishu have been unsettled questions for a decade. Dr. Aw-Hassan’s presence in the capital—he has been in the city for weeks, meeting federal officials and community leaders—suggests a push for recognition, coordination and a legislative handshake with national institutions.

In August 2025, Dr. Aw-Hassan was elected Speaker of the North Eastern State Parliament, according to the electoral commission. The new state’s emergence, and the fact that its Speaker is working the Mogadishu circuit, points to a broader recalibration of Somali federalism after a bruising year of constitutional change and political disputes. Across the country, from Puntland State to the areas administered by the self-declared SSC-Khaatumo authorities, the map of authority is still being redrawn—in parliamentary halls, in clan council meetings, and sometimes, tragically, in skirmishes on the ground.

Reading the room in Mogadishu

Somali politics doesn’t move in straight lines. It zigzags between formal institutions and the traditional authority of elders, known as the guurti, between the letter of the constitution and the lived xeer—customary law—of the communities. When a new state structure appears, the first task is often not governance but translation: aligning state-level laws with federal frameworks on security, revenue, and natural resources; figuring out representation in national institutions; and avoiding overlap that can inflame long-running clan rivalries.

The Senate, a 54-seat chamber designed for sober second thought and regional balance, is meant to be the place where that translation happens. Tuesday’s meeting, by that logic, was one of those quiet tests of whether Somalia’s federal system can keep up with the political realities on the ground without breaking under their weight.

The stakes: law, money, and security

Behind the pleasantries, the agenda is likely to feature issues that have tripped up Somali federalism before:

• Security coordination: integrating regional forces within the national security architecture as the African Union draws down its mission and Somalia leans into its own readiness against al-Shabab.
• Fiscal federalism: revenue sharing from ports, fisheries, and customs; the hard math of who collects what and who gets what, and when.
• Natural resources: rules for onshore and offshore exploration, where overlapping claims can create conflict if not anchored in agreed legislation.
• Justice and representation: synchronizing state-level lawmaking with federal courts and national electoral frameworks, especially as Somalia edges toward more direct representation.

Each of these isn’t just a line item; it’s a political tripwire. The memory is still fresh of federal-state rifts that slowed national decision-making, delayed election timelines, and eroded trust. In such a context, a new state parliament turning up in Mogadishu is akin to stepping onto a floor where some tiles are loose and others have yet to be laid.

A country that changes fastest at the edges

Somalia’s demography skews strikingly young. The median age hovers below 20, and a generation that came of age after state collapse is now moving into city halls, business associations, and parliaments. In places like Bosaso and Garowe, Hargeisa and Laascaanood, the decisions made about revenue, jobs, and security aren’t theoretical. They determine whether a fishing boat can safely dock, whether a new road is built, whether a teacher’s salary clears before Ramadan.

The federal experiment, in that sense, is not only about the constitution. It is about whether institutions can keep pace with the aspirations and anxieties of a restless, inventive population that lives on remittances, trade routes, and the quiet heroism of everyday hustle. As climate change deepens cycles of drought and flood, regional resilience—how quickly a district can mobilize water trucks or fix a washed-out bridge—depends on the clarity of who is responsible for what.

Lessons from elsewhere—and from Somalia’s own past

Countries that navigate federal complexity without constant rupture tend to do the unglamorous work early: mapping powers clearly, funding them predictably, and building habits of consultation. Nigeria’s tussles over oil revenue, Ethiopia’s fraught ethnic federalism, Kenya’s devolution to counties—all hold lessons, good and bad, for Somalia’s path. But Somalia also has its own inventory of what works: consultative processes that blend formal debate with community-led shirs; hybrid security arrangements that keep local buy-in; and pragmatic trade-offs that respect clan balance while still moving the national agenda.

Dr. Aw-Hassan’s weeks in Mogadishu, spent shuttling between government offices and tea tables with community leaders, seem to recognize this. It is an old rhythm in Somali politics: the idea that enduring deals are made as much in conversation as in legislation.

What to watch next

The real test will be in the follow-through. Will the Upper House and the North Eastern State Parliament agree on timelines for harmonizing laws and procedures? Will there be a roadmap for security integration, revenue sharing, and representation? And crucially, how will this new state position itself alongside neighboring administrations to avoid duplication and dispute?

Somalia’s national story has always been sharper than the headlines: a place where politics happens at high velocity but legitimacy accumulates slowly, where young reformers sit alongside veteran powerbrokers, and where the coast—blue and generous—reminds everyone that the country’s fortunes are bound to trade, openness, and cooperation.

Tuesday’s meeting didn’t produce grand declarations. It did something subtler: it put another brick in the wall of a federal architecture still under construction. In a country where too many walls have been torn down, that counts.

As Somalis at home and in the diaspora look on, the questions are clear. Can Mogadishu and emerging state authorities embed a habit of cooperation that outlasts personalities? Can they write laws that travel well—from the Senate floor to a district council on the coast? And can they do it quickly enough to matter for families measuring out their lives in school fees, market prices, and the ever-present cost of security?

Those aren’t just constitutional questions. They’re dinner-table ones. The answers begin with meetings like this.

By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.