Northeastern State accuses Somalia’s president of subverting constitution, demands inclusive elections

Analysis: Northeastern State’s warning shot tests Somalia’s fragile federal bargain

Somalia’s most politically assertive region, Northeastern State, has accused President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud of trampling the country’s basic rules — and it’s not just a routine war of words. In a sharply worded statement from Garowe, Northeastern State’s leadership warned that what it calls constitutional overreach from the federal center risks tipping the country into crisis unless Somalis agree on a shared path to the next elections. They even backed a call by the opposition-aligned National Salvation Forum for the president to step aside to enable an inclusive dialogue — an escalation few in Mogadishu will ignore.

Beneath the rhetoric lies a familiar, unresolved question: who gets to decide Somalia’s political future, and how? The answer matters far beyond Mogadishu and Garowe. It reaches into every district where elders, party organizers, and security officers are trying to build a workable state amid a long insurgency, a fragile economy, and a shifting regional landscape.

What’s behind the standoff

Northeastern State’s statement alleged the president is “misusing constitutional agreements and provisions” — a reference to contentious reforms that have been moving through federal institutions. Mogadishu has argued that centralizing presidential authority and moving toward one-person, one-vote elections by 2026 will end the opaque, clan-based formulas that have defined Somali politics for a generation. But Northeastern State, which has long prized its autonomy and experimented with local direct elections in its own way, sees unilateral constitutional redesign as a power grab.

In plain terms, both sides say they want a more democratic system. They just disagree over who gets to write the rules, when, and with whose consent. In the statement, Northeastern State emphasized that the president’s term runs until May 15, 2026 — signaling the clock is already ticking — and urged a “national dialogue” to align timelines, rules for political parties, and federal-state relations. “Any moves that jeopardize national unity, security, or political stability must be avoided,” the presidency warned.

The Somali presidency did not immediately respond. That silence is not unusual; in recent years, disputes between Villa Somalia and federal member states have often unfolded as cautious statements, shuttle diplomacy, then late-night compromises that hold just long enough to reach the next milestone. Sometimes they snap.

Why timing matters

Somalia is in the midst of overlapping transitions. The African Union mission is drawing down. Security forces are fighting an entrenched Al-Shabaab insurgency that still stages bombings in the heart of the capital. Meanwhile, the government has pursued sweeping institutional changes — from party laws to the shape of the executive — with a promise of nationwide direct elections in 2026.

If you lived through Somalia’s last election crisis, the calendar can feel ominous. In 2021–22, a standoff over expired mandates, election models, and the rules of the game led to delays, street battles in Mogadishu, and a brokered compromise. The lesson then — and the one Northeastern State is insisting on now — is that calendar pressure, absent consensus, breeds confrontation.

What each side wants

For Villa Somalia, the case for moving fast is clear: Somalis deserve direct elections; reforms are overdue; piecemeal bargaining with every state entrenches old patronage networks. Supporters of the president point to sporadic success with local votes and the need for a cleaner, nationwide reset to anchor security and economic recovery.

Northeastern State’s counterargument is that speed without consent is fragility by another name. The region has been vocal for years about protecting a federal balance that gives member states real leverage, not just symbolic seats. It distrusts any centralization that could marginalize regional authorities, especially while the rules remain “provisional” and contested.

There’s also political theater here. Both sides are positioning for 2026. Northeastern State’s endorsement of a call for the president to step aside — even temporarily — is a high-stakes gambit designed to raise costs for unilateralism. Whether that becomes a red line or a bargaining chip depends on what happens next.

The bigger picture: Somalia and a regional pattern

Somalia’s angst over constitutions and timelines mirrors a wider African trend. From Sudan’s aborted transition to Ethiopia’s wrenching centralization, the continent is awash in renegotiated political compacts. In each case, the questions are similar: Who holds the pen? How inclusive is the process? And can new frameworks outlast the personalities who create them?

Somalia’s challenge is unique in one respect: it is trying to build a social contract while still fighting an insurgency. That puts a premium on legitimacy. A reform that looks elegant on paper can falter if key power centers — federal states, clan elders, parties, security chiefs — don’t see themselves in it. And legitimacy here is local: a fisherman in Bosaso and a market trader in Bakara must be convinced that the state is theirs, not just something declared in Mogadishu.

What happens if talks fail

There are three risks that keep officials up at night:

• Fragmentation: If federal states peel away from national processes — even symbolically — it slows security operations, complicates aid delivery, and weakens the state’s negotiating hand with both insurgents and donors.
• Mandate disputes: As 2026 approaches, arguments over who has authority to make which decisions could trigger paralysis or parallel institutions — a pattern familiar from Somalia’s past.
• Political violence: When parties believe the rules are being rewritten without them, mobilization can move from social media to the streets. Somalia has weathered that before. It shouldn’t have to again.

Paths out of the impasse

A reset is possible. Somalia has pulled back from the brink more than once. Practical steps could help:

• A time-bound national dialogue convened by a neutral forum, including federal states, opposition figures, and civil society, to agree on the sequence of reforms — what must happen before 2026 and what can wait.
• Independent arbitration on the most contentious constitutional clauses, perhaps with technical support from regional bodies that understand Somalia’s federal experiment but aren’t seen as partisan.
• Clear guarantees for state-level political space — including protections for parties, media, and peaceful assembly — so that reform doesn’t feel like centralization by other means.

None of this is glamorous politics. But the alternative — a slow drift back into brinkmanship — is riskier. As one veteran civil society leader in Mogadishu liked to say in calmer moments, constitutions don’t keep the peace; consent does.

A test for Somalia’s democratic promise

For a generation, Somalis have been told that the 4.5 clan formula was a bridge to democracy, not a destination. Many have waited patiently for a vote where they can finally choose leaders directly. Northeastern State’s pushback does not reject that aspiration. It asks a harder question: can Somalia get there together, without repeating the shortcuts that alienated so many in the past?

As dhows bob in Bosaso’s port and Mogadishu’s tea stalls fill at dusk, these debates can feel abstract. But the contours of daily life — security checkpoints, school openings, market prices — are shaped by who writes the rules and whether everyone buys into them. If Northeastern State and Villa Somalia can find common ground on the process, the election that follows will mean more than a date on a calendar. It will be a promise kept.

The next move belongs to the presidency. Silence can be strategic; it can also be costly. The country is listening.

By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.