Somali Army Warns Civilians: Don’t Wear Uniforms, Don’t Touch Military Vehicles, After Militant Attack
MOGADISHU — Somalia’s army has issued a sweeping warning forbidding civilians from wearing military uniforms, displaying insignia, or using vehicles tied to the armed forces, an emergency measure meant to choke off a well-known loophole exploited by militants and common criminals alike.
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The Somali National Army (SNA) said Saturday that anyone caught using military gear or vehicles without authorization will face “legal and disciplinary measures consistent with the laws governing the armed forces.” The order comes days after Al-Shabaab militants used a government military vehicle to stage an assault on the Godka Jilicow detention facility in Mogadishu, a stark reminder of how easily symbols of authority can be turned into weapons in a city still battling a violent insurgency.
What’s changing now
SNA commanders framed the directive as both a deterrent and a clean-up campaign across the capital and beyond. In its statement, the army said the ban covers “all military uniforms, ranks, and symbols exclusive to the Somali National Army,” and urged businesses to stop making or selling anything that mimics official gear.
- No civilian wearing of SNA uniforms, ranks, or insignia
- No use of SNA-registered vehicles without authorization
- No private garages modifying, repairing, or housing SNA vehicles
- No manufacturing or commercial sale of military-styled clothing or badges
“This decision aims to safeguard national security and preserve the integrity of the armed forces,” the army said, calling on citizens to report abuses and promising tighter discipline within its own ranks.
After the Godka Jilicow attack, a renewed urgency
Al-Shabaab’s assault on the high-security Godka Jilicow detention facility rattled Mogadishu. The militants’ use of a government-marked vehicle exposed a familiar vulnerability: when attackers look like soldiers, checkpoints and guards can be tricked, and chaos can follow in seconds. The incident triggered a rapid review by Somalia’s security agencies, who have since rolled out more inspections of military vehicles across the capital. The Ministry of Internal Security separately ordered that no privately owned garages or workshops should repair or store SNA vehicles without official permission.
“In conflicts shaped by deception and speed, uniforms are not just cloth; they are passports,” a senior security adviser in Mogadishu said, speaking generally about the tactic and asking not to be named. “If that passport is easy to fake, then everything else—checkpoints, curfews, even public trust—can be undermined.”
A common tactic in a dangerous war
Al-Shabaab and other insurgent groups have long used disguise to breach defenses: stolen license plates, fake insignia, and uniforms stitched in informal markets. Somalia is not alone. In Nigeria, attackers aligned with Boko Haram have posed as soldiers. In Afghanistan and Iraq, militants for years appropriated military gear to slip past security lines. The pattern is grimly consistent: in urban environments already fatigued by conflict, the thin line between civilian and soldier can blur fast.
That is why Somalia’s new directive leans heavily on symbolism. Who can wear a uniform? Who can buy one? Who is allowed behind the wheel of an armored pickup? It’s about control—of equipment, of appearance, of narrative. For a government still extending authority block by block, controlling symbols can be as important as controlling territory.
Cracking down on a marketplace problem
In Mogadishu’s bustling markets, you can find everything from phone chargers to fatigues that look a little too official. The army’s ban on manufacturing and selling military-style gear is an attempt to cut off supply at the source. The language was unambiguous: “All commercial activities involving the sale or distribution of military-related materials are strictly prohibited.”
Retailers—many of them small shopkeepers—now face a new moral calculus: a quick sale versus the risk that a shirt, patch, or cap could end up as part of a disguise. The government, for its part, will have to back the ban with inspections, seizures, and clear lines of what counts as “military-related.” In countries where uniforms are also a fashion statement, that can be a fuzzy line. The stakes in Somalia are too high for ambiguity.
Public cooperation as a force multiplier
The SNA’s call for citizens to report misuse of uniforms and vehicles taps into a broader, global lesson of counterinsurgency: security forces cannot be everywhere, but communities can be vigilant. Somalia’s residents have shown that vigilance before—alerting authorities to suspicious movements, even forming neighborhood watches in chaotic times. Yet vigilance is a two-way street. The public’s willingness to help depends on seeing that their tips are acted upon and that officers wearing those uniforms are accountable.
The army acknowledged this, saying it is doubling down on discipline. That promise is central to rebuilding trust after any incident involving misuse of military assets—whether by militants, rogue actors, or corrupt middlemen. Uniforms, in the end, represent a contract between the state and its citizens: an assurance that the person wearing one is there to protect, not to exploit.
Wider context: a transition under pressure
The timing of the directive is telling. Somalia’s security transition—shifting more responsibility to national forces as African Union troops draw down—has put a spotlight on logistics, chain-of-custody, and perimeter control. Uniform and vehicle management may sound bureaucratic, but they are foundational. Lose control of those, and you risk losing control of the streets.
For international partners backing Somalia’s stabilization, Saturday’s announcement will be read as an effort to tighten the bolts at a critical hinge point. It also presses a question common to fragile states: How do you keep a capital open for trade and daily life while sealing off the pathways militants exploit? The answer often lies in a mix of smarter enforcement, cleaner records, and public buy-in—more tedious than dramatic, but no less vital.
What to watch next
- Enforcement: Will checkpoints and patrols begin seizing counterfeit or misused uniforms? Will courts back swift penalties?
- Supply chains: How aggressively will authorities police workshops and market stalls selling military-style gear?
- Accountability: Will the army publish findings from its security review after the Godka Jilicow attack?
- Public response: Do citizens embrace the reporting campaign, and do they see results?
For now, Somalia’s message is direct: the uniform matters. The badge matters. The vehicle’s markings matter. In a city where a single deception can open the door to catastrophe, drawing a hard line around those symbols is both practical and deeply symbolic—an assertion that the state controls its image, and through it, its security.
By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
