I write today not as an official of government, but as a citizen who has served long enough inside the system to understand both its weaknesses and its potential. In my years as National Security Advisor, my office worked around the clock on reforms that could strengthen the Somali state. Among them was one draft that I considered foundational: the Official Information Bill.
This draft did not come about by chance. It was born of long consultations with ministries, lawyers, civil society, and even journalists. It was coordinated from my office, though carried forward by the Ministry of Information, Culture and Tourism, as is proper for a Cabinet matter. It is not an academic exercise; it is a practical tool, built on the real challenges I witnessed from the inside. Now, it lies where it belongs: before the two Houses of our Federal Parliament. And it is here that I wish to make a direct appeal.
The Law Somalia Never Had It
Since independence, Somalia has never had a comprehensive law on secrets and access to information. There are scattered clauses in the Penal Code, and vague references in other acts, but never a codified system that defines what information must be protected, what must be shared, and how. For more than sixty years, we have lived in a legal vacuum where “secrecy” could mean everything or nothing.
That vacuum has been costly. Citizens, journalists, and even government officials have been accused of leaking “secrets” when no one could define what a secret was. Accusations were sometimes political, sometimes personal, and almost always arbitrary. At the same time, genuinely sensitive information—on security, diplomacy, or finance—was often left unprotected, stored casually on personal phones or shared over private email. Worse still, some of the most important decisions of our national life—contracts, agreements, even Cabinet and parliamentary resolutions—have been made behind closed doors with no transparency. These practices have left scars on public trust and weakened the credibility of our state.
The Official Information Bill is the first law to end this ambiguity. It sets down, in black and white, how to classify secrets, how to protect them, and how to give citizens the constitutional right to know what belongs to them. For the first time in Somali history, we will have a balanced framework that protects both state security and public accountability.
Clearance as the Entrance Point
The most important innovation in this bill is how it disciplines the machinery of government itself. At the centre of this discipline is one word: clearance.
Clearance becomes the entrance ticket to state information. An official’s level of clearance will determine what he or she can see, which files can be opened, and even which meetings can be attended. No longer will personal connections or political favours dictate who sits at the table. Instead, access will flow from responsibility, defined and vetted by law.
From clearance comes compartmentalisation. Once officials know their boundaries, government information can be managed securely, with each person confined to what their role requires. From there, meetings themselves are disciplined: attendance, discussions, and records all marked according to classification. And from meetings flow records, stored and accessed only according to the clearance level required.
This may sound technical, but in truth it is a revolution. It is the difference between a state that governs by improvisation and a state that governs by rules.
Protecting Citizens from Abuse
For the public, the bill is no less transformational. It recognises what our Constitution already promised but what practice has denied: the right of the Somali citizen to access government information. With this law, citizens, journalists, and researchers will no longer be at the mercy of arbitrary denials. If information is refused, it must be refused with a written reason grounded in law. If that reason is unjustified, the courts can be called upon to intervene.
This also means that secrecy can no longer be used as a weapon against critics. Journalists will not be silenced by vague accusations of leaking. Researchers will not be left guessing because records are hidden. Citizens will no longer be told “this is secret” when it is in fact their constitutional right to know. What is genuinely secret will be defined and classified. Everything else will belong to the people.
Ending a Culture of Vagueness and Misuse
The absence of a law has been more than a technical gap; it has been a breeding ground for misuse. Too often, “state secrets” were invoked to cover corruption, to push through opaque contracts, or to silence dissent. Too often, our Parliament itself was asked to approve agreements without access to the underlying documents. Too often, Cabinet decisions of national importance were passed without public disclosure.
This bill changes that. It requires institutions to keep proper archives, to publish budgets, contracts, and policies proactively, and to respond to requests with discipline. It removes the fog of vagueness and replaces it with clarity. In so doing, it strengthens both the protection of genuine secrets and the accountability of government.
A Balance of Security and Openness
Some will ask whether this openness puts our national security at risk. The opposite is true. By creating a proper system of classification—confidential, secret, and top secret—the bill ensures that what must be protected is protected. It criminalises negligence, punishes betrayal, and introduces order where now there is carelessness. But it also prevents abuse, making it clear that corruption, human rights violations, or unlawful practices cannot be hidden under the label of “security.”
This balance is what strong states around the world have long embraced. It is what Somalia now needs if it is to govern with both security and legitimacy.
Action for the Parliament, MoI and Civil Society
To the Honourable Members of the House of the People and the Upper House: this bill is your responsibility. Passing it will not only honour the constitutional right of citizens, it will also strengthen your own institution. Parliament will gain clearer oversight powers, firmer grounds to demand accountability, and stronger authority over the executive. Do not treat this as another ordinary draft. Treat it as what it is: a foundational law for the discipline of our republic. History will not forget whether you seized this moment or allowed it to drift.
To the Ministry of Information, Culture and Tourism: this is your bill in name, and it must also be your bill in spirit. Champion it. Lobby for it. Educate the public about it. Do not allow it to gather dust in committee. This is not a technical matter. It is a cornerstone of our governance. Lead it with conviction.
To Somali journalists, researchers, and civil society: this law is also for you. It arms you with the right to know, the right to ask, and the right to challenge. It frees you from the arbitrary use of secrecy as a weapon. It gives you the tools to hold leaders accountable, to demand transparency in contracts, budgets, and decisions. It protects you when you seek information in the public interest.
This is your shield as well as your sword.
Conclusion: A Republic Needs Light
Somalia has lived too long in shadows — shadows of secrecy, shadows of misuse, shadows of governance without structure. The Official Information Bill is a chance to bring light. It disciplines the state through clearance and compartmentalisation. It protects what must be secret. It shares what must be public. And it restores trust between government and citizen.
This is not only a law; it is a cultural shift. It is the difference between a republic of secrecy and suspicion, and a republic of trust and accountability.
A republic belongs to its people. And the people’s first right is to know.
Hussein Sheikh-Ali is the former National Security Adviser of Somalia.
The opinion expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Dawan Africa
