An Unlawful Clampdown on Journalism and Protest in Mogadishu

The afternoon of March 28th in Mogadishu seemed like any other—busy streets laced with the usual vibrant chaos. But beneath this apparent normalcy, a storm of justice and outrage brewed. Five journalists were meticulously documenting a protest, a determined cry for accountability echoing through the streets, yet their voices were abruptly silenced.

What ignited this protest was appallingly familiar: accounts of a young Somali woman allegedly gang-raped in Nairobi, Kenya, and reports of a minor girl forced into a marriage in Puntland. Both stories touched a raw nerve, sparking indignation across Somalia, particularly among women who have had enough of enduring senseless brutality. It’s a question that lingers: How long must they continue to plead for their rights?

At approximately 2:30 PM, the rhythm of the protest, a chorus demanding, “We want justice, and we do not consent to be raped,” was violently disrupted. Officer Amin Abukar ‘Muniish’ and his colleagues from the Hodan district police swooped in, eager to dismantle both the protest and the documentation of it. As the women, mainly younger, were driven apart, the police swiftly turned their attention to the journalists. The command was clear—stop filming, stop recording, stop everything.

“When Somalia’s Mogadishu police attack journalists and deny women the right to protest against rampant sexual violence, it only proves that the Somali government stands with perpetrators rather than victims.”

The journalists were not just passive onlookers, but the vessels through which these women screamed their story to the world. Among them were Abdirazak Haji Sidow Nor and Abdullahi Abdukadir Ahmed from Himilo TV, alongside Abdirizak Abdullahi Adan and Abdirahman Barre Hussein of Radio Mustaqbal. They were soon joined in custody by Anisa Abdiaziz Hussein, a determined female voice from Himilo TV.

Transported to the confines of the Hodan district station, the journalists watched as more than their freedom slipped away – their equipment, the lens capturing truth, was confiscated. As if stealing tangible objects wasn’t enough, the officers deleted the interviews, erasing testimonies that took immense courage to voice. The male journalists found themselves crowded in a cell, while Anisa was held separately. Imagine the thoughts racing through their minds as they pondered over how one incident so readily exposed the fragility of press freedom.

There’s a saying by George Orwell: “Freedom of the press, if it means anything at all, means the freedom to criticize and oppose.” Yet, here they were, held under an order stipulating future silence if they wished for release. Eventually, their physical freedom was restored, cameras and gear handed back—a fleeting victory overshadowed by a chilling reminder of what it means to stand at the crossroads of justice and censorship.

The Somali Journalists Syndicate (SJS), while welcoming the journalists’ release, pointedly condemned this infringement—a stark interference into the right to report, to protest, and to simply be heard. Such actions are not just a strike against a handful of reporters but rather an assault on the very fabric of independent journalism and free expression within Somalia.

“We urge the Mogadishu authorities to return to the law and order, respect what the Somali constitution says, and uphold press freedom and protect the rights of women instead of siding with violent abusers.”
– Abdalle Mumin, Secretary-General, SJS

Reflecting on recent events raises poignant questions: what does justice truly mean in a society where the guardians of the law may sometimes be the ones subverting it? How might we redefine strength and resilience in communities battered by incessant injustice?

As the cries of protest dissipate into the shadows of Mogadishu’s bustling streets, one hopes they linger in the corners of our hearts and actions. They remind the world that silence is the true enemy, an accomplice to oppression when voices should fiercely contest darkness. In this ongoing battle, both within Somalia and beyond, one thing remains imperative: let us never mute these narratives yearning for justice.