Talk of negotiations between the Somali government and Al-Shabaab is no longer confined to scattered leaks or exaggerated political speculation. It has become part of a quiet conversation held more in foreign capitals concerned with Somalia’s future than in Mogadishu itself.
While clashes continue on the ground without fundamentally altering the balance of power, a parallel process unfolds behind the scenes—far from the public gaze—where diplomatic and intelligence channels explore the possibility of opening a political track with the group, even if only in the long term.
These are talks that are neither announced nor denied, but they move in the shadows, driven by regional and international calculations far beyond the ability of any Somali actor to fully control. At the heart of this opaque landscape, the Somali state and Al-Shabaab find themselves confronting a single question: has the time finally come to test what no one has dared to declare openly over two decades of war?
The idea of negotiations resurfaces whenever the conflict reaches a phase that drains both sides without producing decisive outcomes—a conflict that seems to reproduce itself in a loop where the state does not win and the movement does not lose.
After nearly twenty years of confrontation, Somalia appears to be approaching a point where military force alone can no longer reshape the political or security landscape, and where the country cannot afford to wait indefinitely for a breakthrough. Here, “negotiations in the shadows” emerge as an option discussed by outside powers even before Somalis themselves contemplate it.
Yet the deeper question remains: have the conditions for negotiation truly matured? And do both sides possess the political will and technical capacity to move from a war that has exhausted everyone to a political settlement that could redefine Somalia’s future?
First, understanding what each side holds at this moment is essential.
The Federal Government of Somalia enters any potential negotiation backed by broad international recognition and political legitimacy unrivaled within the country, and supported by regional and global partners who see the survival of the Somali state as a strategic necessity.
The government also has financial resources, the ability to secure technical and military support, and the exclusive mandate to represent the Somali people and shape the country’s political future—making it the only actor capable of granting Al-Shabaab the legitimacy it seeks.
On the other hand, Al-Shabaab possesses a different but equally significant set of strengths that make it an indispensable actor. It controls large territories, maintains exceptional internal cohesion, and operates a sophisticated taxation system that has produced substantial financial surpluses and sustained independence. Its decision-making structure is highly centralized and flexible, giving it a level of political and security agility that the government does not enjoy.
Al-Shabaab also retains the capacity to impose peace or extend war, and could, if it wished, reunify large parts of the country under a single authority—an idea that appeals to segments of a population weary of instability. In addition, the group wields influence in regional dynamics and possesses deep knowledge of the state’s vulnerabilities, acquired through long and intimate engagement with national institutions.
Second, the question of what each side fundamentally wants goes far beyond a ceasefire.
For the government, the priority is to secure a sustainable peace that allows it to consolidate the internal political landscape, advance reform efforts, and prepare for direct elections within a less violent environment. The government understands that the ongoing war drains its political and economic capacity, and that a negotiated understanding with Al-Shabaab could grant it political longevity beyond an election cycle and weaken the influence of domestic rivals.
For Al-Shabaab, the objective extends well beyond battlefield gains. The group seeks political legitimacy that releases it from international isolation and allows it to operate publicly as a political and social actor rather rather than a clandestine insurgency. Yet it fears that entering the political process could fracture its base—united by war, not peace—and that the international community might abandon any promises made, as has happened in other contexts.
It also fears becoming a new version of the 2006 Islamic Courts Union: co-opted into the system only to be marginalized later. Still, for the group, the greatest reward of successful negotiations would be formal recognition, allowing it to shape the country’s future rather than exist outside it.
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In this context, and according to information circulating within diplomatic circles, several major powers and regional states—as well as international organizations and intelligence agencies—have maintained indirect contacts over the past years with both the Somali government and Al-Shabaab regarding the possibility of negotiations. Most of these efforts have been exploratory, aimed at “testing intentions” rather than launching any serious political track.
They have unfolded quietly, without formal commitments, subject to larger and more complex geopolitical considerations that transcend Somalia and its neighborhood—considerations whose consequences may not become visible for decades. These initiatives do not align with the Somali public’s instinctive sense of urgency; instead, they reflect the slow, calculated rhythm of international strategy.
Third, should negotiations begin, the balance of gains and losses becomes intricate.
The government stands to benefit from dealing with a single powerful actor capable of altering the security landscape, opening major roads, and reviving economic lifelines. A successful agreement could strengthen the government’s political standing and enhance its ability to implement its state-building project.
Yet the government also fears that Al-Shabaab could infiltrate the social and institutional fabric once a ceasefire is in place—a scenario seen in other countries where ideological movements transformed into legitimate political entities.
Al-Shabaab, meanwhile, would gain political recognition, freedom of public messaging, and protection for its leadership in a post-conflict environment. Its potential losses include internal fragmentation or the erosion of its ideological structure if subjected to civilian political norms.
At the core of these calculations lies the economy.
The group has near-total control over economic circulation in areas under its influence, while the government commands access to international aid and global economic networks. A genuine peace agreement cannot succeed without merging the two economic spheres, because neither can function sustainably in isolation.
Beneath all these layers lie distinctly Somali considerations—social, clan-based, and political—which many international stakeholders fail to fully grasp. These complexities form an unspoken narrative that shapes Somali decision-making, and they are a story for another time, because of how profoundly they influence the country’s trajectory beneath the surface.
Somalia today stands at a historic juncture. War has exhausted its ability to produce solutions, while peace continues to search for a national will strong enough to transcend ideological and political divisions. If Somalia can craft a unique model of settlement—one that avoids the mistakes of the past and draws from regional experiences—the country may enter a new era of unity and stability. But if the parties fail to overcome their fears, Somalia will remain trapped in a cycle of violence whose beginning is known, but whose end no one can foresee.
I am not attempting here to paint a rosy picture suggesting that the potential negotiations between the Somali government and Al-Shabaab will bring an end to the Somali crisis. There are no guarantees—even if negotiations succeed—that Somalia will emerge as a problem-free state. What may follow could be phases no less complex than what preceded them, for the turbulent world surrounding Somalia is full of surprises yet to unfold.
When it comes to negotiations aimed at achieving lasting peace between the Somali government and Al-Shabaab, swallowing the poison becomes unavoidable—no matter how bitter it is or who goes first. The price of perpetual confrontation has already shown itself to be far more corrosive, while peace, however costly, is still less lethal than a war with no end in sight.
Ali Halane is a Somali journalist, researcher specializing in African and Middle Eastern affairs, and co-founder of the Somali Cultural Parliament.
The opinion expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Dawan Africa
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