Trump’s ‘garbage’ remark sparks disappointment and backlash across Somalia

JOHANNESBURG, South Africa — After vowing this week to cut down on immigration from “third world countries” in response to the deadly attack on two National Guard members by an Afghan national, President Donald Trump turned his ire on Somalis, calling them “garbage” and urging Somali Americans to “go back” and “fix” their homeland, which he described as “hell.”

The comments drew swift condemnation from Somali Americans — including Somalia-born Rep. Ilhan Omar, a Democrat, who called the remarks “vile” — and from Somalis inside the country, who said they are already working, often at great personal risk, to strengthen their communities and rebuild from decades of conflict with the Islamist insurgency al-Shabab.

Somalia descended into anarchy after the 1991 overthrow of military ruler Siad Barre. In the three decades since, millions have fled, forming a diaspora across the United States and beyond. Yet inside the country, civic groups and individual volunteers have stepped into gaps left by weak state institutions, pushing back against the narrative that Somalia is irredeemable.

‘Every life has an equal value’

Among those leading the effort is Dr. Abdulkadir Abdirahman Adan, a dentist who founded the capital’s only free ambulance service — a lifeline in a city where bombings and targeted attacks remain a recurring threat. His teams routinely race toward danger, arriving minutes after explosions and bracing for the possibility of second blasts designed to kill rescuers.

Adan said Trump’s comments betray a misunderstanding of Somali society. “In every nation there is some bad people, in every nation, but not all of them. Somalis, I do believe there are very good people, in generosity, helping others,” he told NPR. That ethos drives his staff to respond even when it is perilous. “If we don’t go to do it, who’s going to do it? We go, we do, because every life has an equal value … no one should be left to die just because helping them is not safe.”

His calculus captures a broader truth in Mogadishu: the institutions most citizens rely on — from emergency response to survivor support — were built, or rebuilt, by civilians determined to restore a measure of normalcy.

Filling the void: peace builders, athletes and reporters

That determination is evident at the Elman Peace and Human Rights Centre, led by Nobel Peace Prize nominee Ilwad Elman. The organization operates Somalia’s first rape crisis center, supports the rehabilitation of youths drawn or forced into militias, and runs education and trauma recovery programs. On Mogadishu’s shoreline, it offers ocean therapy to children who have survived violence, a buoyant ritual that counters the city’s harsher rhythms.

It is visible, too, on the soccer pitch. The country’s first amputee team, founded by former Somali Premier League player Abdiaziz Kediye, gives men who lost limbs in the conflict a chance to compete again — and to be seen for their skill, not their injury. The squad has become a symbol of perseverance in a nation rebuilding its public life.

In the newsroom, Bilan Media — an all-women outlet — is challenging norms and holding power to account. Reporters there have built a reputation for rigorous, sensitive coverage of abuses often overlooked in a male-dominated media. “We have many positive things happening in Somalia. Our young people are starting new businesses, using technology, and also making art and music. Somali women are becoming leaders,” said Bilan reporter Farhia Mohamed Hussein. “We have a strong culture, full of hospitality; we have some challenges, but people continue building … Somali people never give up.”

That spirit stretches beyond Somalia’s borders. The diaspora has seeded businesses, funded schools and clinics, and lobbied in host countries for policies that reflect the complexity of Somalia’s security and humanitarian needs. “We’re really talking about a Somali population, both in Somalia and the diaspora, that has made huge contributions to their communities,” said Ahmed Soliman, a Horn of Africa researcher at Chatham House in London.

Security struggles and a partnership that endures

Somalia’s fragility is real. Al-Shabab retains the capacity to stage lethal attacks, and the federal government’s institutions remain uneven. But the United States has been a central partner in Somalia’s security effort for years, and that cooperation continues despite rhetoric from Washington, analysts say.

“The U.S. has been engaged in Somalia for decades; they are an important bilateral partner, an important partner in helping the Somali federal government to stabilise its security against the Islamist insurgency al-Shabab,” Soliman said.

U.S. forces have trained Somali army units and regularly conduct drone strikes against al-Shabab targets. Since the Trump administration took office this year, those strike rates have risen considerably, according to the liberal think tank New America, citing U.S. Africa Command data. The operations form part of a strategy to pressure the insurgency while Somali and African Union forces work to retake territory and secure urban centers.

For many Somalis, that long-standing security cooperation and deep diplomatic engagement are the counterpoint to political broadsides. Ilham Ali Gassar, a Somali representative at the East African Legislative Assembly and an expert in governance and peace-building, said statements that demean Somalia or its people are “deeply hurtful.” Yet the broader relationship, she argued, has proven resilient. “For decades, our two nations have worked together … That deep partnership is far bigger than any single political movement or individual.”

Beyond the insult: a country still building

Trump’s “garbage” remark was received with anger and disappointment in places like Mogadishu and Minneapolis, where Somali Americans have built vibrant neighborhoods and small-business corridors. Omar underscored that Somali Americans contribute to the United States and “are working to make our country better.” The message from inside Somalia was strikingly similar: People are, in fact, trying to fix what years of war shattered — often without fanfare, and sometimes at great risk.

Those parallel efforts — diaspora and domestic — are not a panacea for the state’s structural problems, nor do they erase the trauma of recent decades. But they are, Somalis say, the clearest answer to caricature: a record of work, brick by brick, that runs from an ambulance hurtling toward a blast site to a journalist filing a story that might save a life, to a goalkeeper balanced on crutches punching away a shot under a hot coastal sun.

In the end, the measure of Somalia and its global community is not the insult, but the insistence — on dignity, on service, on the plain, everyday act of showing up. That persistence is what many here hope outsiders will see, beyond the soundbite and the slur.

By Ali Musa

Axadle Times international–Monitoring.