During the past 15 years of war and civil conflict in Somalia, most observers — Somalis and foreigners alike — have understood that a resolution to the country’s problems could only come from agreement among Somalis themselves.
This has now changed in a way that carries potential dangers.
It was all very different only two months ago. In June, the political situation in Somalia seemed to offer grounds for cautious optimism. The Union of Islamic Courts (UIC), backed by considerable popular support, was banishing the warlords and their militias from large swathes of the country (including the capital, Mogadishu). After years of anarchy and chaos, the courts ostensibly presented a model of governance based on a moderate interpretation of sharia law, one that a people hungry for security and order might readily embrace.
Meanwhile, the weak Somali interim government based in the town of Baidoa — a coalition of forces that had emerged from the peace agreement painstakingly negotiated during two years of difficult consultations in Kenya — was obliged to acknowledge the rising power of the courts by appearing ready to engage in dialogue with the new movement.
It appeared for a moment that a combination of the force of arms, backing from war-weary Somalis and understanding of the country’s needs might make such a dialogue the foundation of a longed-for political settlement. Instead, two centres of power have been consolidated in Mogadishu and Baidoa, each with a different ideological orientation, and each claiming primary legitimacy as the authentic voice of Somalis.
More recently, a new element has been added to the mix with the active involvement of two of Somalia’s neighbours in its domestic turmoil, each seeking to strengthen one of the emerging sides: Ethiopia (Somalia’s great historic rival) in support of the formal government in Baidoa, and Eritrea (with which Ethiopia has fought two bitter wars in the last generation) in support of the Islamic courts.
This strategic rivalry over Somalia was first apparent in the reported incursion into the country by Ethiopian troops to support the interim government. Ethiopia has not officially admitted sending troops into Somalia, but both the United Nations and independent journalists have confirmed their presence in the government’s temporary base in Baidoa, and in another of its strongholds, Wajid. Ethiopia has in any case declared its intention to support the Somali government militarily and politically and to help crush the advancing Islamic courts movement.
The response of the Islamic courts has been equally blunt: it has urged a “holy war” against Ethiopia and the courts have mobilised their militias to that end. At one anti-Ethiopia rally in Mogadishu, the leader of the UIC, Sheik Sharif Sheik Ahmed said that Ethiopia’s intervention was a violation of Somalia’s sovereignty and should be steadfastly opposed.
But the UIC has its own foreign backer, evident in two secret landings at Mogadishu airport by a plane with unspecified cargo believed to be weapons. The source has not been definitively confirmed, but all indications point to Eritrea.
The United States shares the view of the Baidoa government that Eritrea is indeed involved in the internal Somali conflict. The US’s assistant secretary for African affairs, Jendayi Frazer, warned both Ethiopia and Eritrea that they should stay out of the crisis. But in saying that the international community must help the interim government stand on its feet, Frazer was also making it clear where the US government’s sympathies lie.
The logic of these foreign interventions is that the Somali crisis is no longer going to be left to the Somalis.
The presence of the Ethiopians is a factor in delaying the start of proposed talks between the Islamic courts and the government. The UIC leaders say they will not discuss matters with the government as long as foreign troops remain on Somali soil; and the Somali Parliament (also based in Baidoa) is equally opposed to any Ethiopian presence.
The UIC statement has a wider relevance than to the Ethiopian issue. An initiative by the African Union’s (AU’s) regional inter- governmental authority on development (Igad) — which includes Ethiopia, Eritrea and Somalia among its members — is also on the table; if implemented, this would see peacekeepers from other parts of the continent enter Somalia.
The proposal is still at an early stage: the AU has yet to approve its timescale, its mandate, and the number of troops to be sent. In order for it to proceed, the AU first wants the UN to lift an arms embargo on Somalia. Meanwhile, it now seems that two of the AU’s member-states have already violated the embargo by taking matters into their own hands.
The reported unilateral involvement of Eritrea and Ethiopia represents a potent challenge to the AU. In any case, there are three obstacles to the AU proposal.
First, two Igad members (Eritrea and Djibouti) are against it, and two others (Sudan and Uganda) say they will send troops only if all sides in Somalia agree to the deployment and announce a ceasefire. Once more, this places Ethiopia in the eye of the storm: if it declares willingness to contribute to an AU force, it may divide the region’s states as it has already reinforced internal schisms within Somalia.
Second, the Somali Contact Group recently formed by the United States (comprising the US, Britain, Norway, Tanzania, Sweden and Italy) advises against sending troops into Somalia.
Third, the proposal was made when the situation on the ground was very different. At the time, the Islamic courts — which vigorously oppose the AU idea — had virtually no control over any part of Somalia; now, they control five out of 10 regions in southern Somalia after defeating the US-backed warlords.
This, then, is a key test for the AU. Should it stick to its original plan or show flexibility in light of a changing balance of power inside Somalia; should it seek to curb the influence of its member-states that have taken unilateral decisions or take sides in Somalia’s domestic turmoil? So far, the AU has remained silent on Ethiopian and Eritrean involvement in Somalia — but if it pursues a plan to send its own troops there, it cannot do so for much longer.
There is another significant cautionary factor. The Somali interim government has authority over less territory than its main rivals and has not been able to reconcile the main contending groups throughout the country. Any deployment of foreign troops is more likely to succeed after mediation through diplomacy with and among Somalia’s contending parties; otherwise, it might appear as much a one-sided imposition as the Ethiopian intervention. How the AU approaches this issue will be crucial to its credibility, as well as to the lives of its troops.
Meanwhile, what guides the thinking of Ethiopia and Eritrea in Somalia? It is likely that Eritrea’s support for the Islamic courts movement is largely a case of tweaking the lion’s tail and challenging Ethiopia’s regional status. Ethiopia itself, by far the biggest of the three countries, is a major player in the region and its ambitions in relation to Somalia make its strategy highly important.
Ethiopia and Somalia have for centuries been divided by religion (Ethiopia is a Christian country, Somalia is Muslim). They have also been locked in a territorial dispute, one of the legacies of the British empire in the region. In 1948, Britain granted to Ethiopia an area under its protection — the Ogaden — inhabited by Somalis. Both countries claim ownership of this land and have fought two major wars, in 1964 and 1977, over it.
Somalia has always asked Ethiopia to return the Ogaden or to ask the Somali inhabitants of the area to express their own views about its future. Ethiopia has always refused to do so, and (partly for climatic reasons, but partly because of this dispute) the Ogaden remains the most underdeveloped region of Ethiopia.
This helps explain why Ethiopia is so concerned to have a friendly government in Somalia.
Somalis need to find a way forward that avoids a new round of bloodshed. They may need the constructive help and support — as opposed to the self-interested interference — of their African neighbours. But ultimately, Somalis must do it for themselves.
Harun Hassan worked for Associated Press and the BBC in Somalia. He currently works as a freelancer. This article was originally published on the independent online magazine www.opendemocracy.net