When Somalia’s Defence Minister Ahmed Moalim Fiqi stood before the Upper House this week and declared that “lasting security will never be achieved as long as foreign troops remain inside the country,” he reopened one of the most uncomfortable debates in modern Somali history — the question of who really secures Somalia.
For years, this debate has lingered in the background of political conversations and donor conferences, muted by the logic of necessity: that Somalia, scarred by decades of conflict and institutional collapse, cannot yet stand on its own. But Fiqi’s words — sober, deliberate, and coming from the man charged with rebuilding the country’s defence system — cut through that political caution. His statement was not merely about military policy; it was a call for sovereignty in security — a concept Somalia has postponed for far too long.
A Long History of Foreign Boots on Somali Soil
Somalia’s entanglement with foreign forces began in 1992, when the United Nations deployed the UNOSOM mission, later reinforced by the U.S.-led UNITAF, to respond to famine and civil war. What began as a humanitarian intervention quickly devolved into confrontation with local factions, culminating in the Black Hawk Down tragedy of 1993. By 1995, UN forces had withdrawn, leaving behind bitterness, distrust, and the illusion that peace could be imported.
For more than a decade after that withdrawal, Somalia was left to its own chaos — fragmented, stateless, and ruled by militias. Then, as Al-Shabaab emerged in the mid-2000s, the international community returned — this time under the African Union flag.
In 2007, the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) was launched, bringing together troops from Uganda, Burundi, Kenya, Ethiopia, and later Djibouti. Its stated mandate was to support the transitional government and drive Al-Shabaab from key cities. Over the years, AMISOM evolved — in name and structure — first into ATMIS, and now into AUSSOM, the current “security transition” mission meant to hand full control to Somali forces.
Each version was meant to be temporary. Each ended up staying longer than planned.
The Double-Edged Role of Foreign Forces
To be fair, Somalia’s survival owes much to AMISOM’s early sacrifices. The mission liberated Mogadishu, Kismayo, Baidoa, Beledweyne, and Jowhar, allowing federal institutions to take root. It trained thousands of Somali soldiers and provided the umbrella of stability under which a new constitution, parliament, and electoral system emerged.
Yet these achievements came at a cost. The African Union forces became, in practice, a parallel security authority — better funded, better equipped, and in some areas more trusted than Somalia’s own army. Operational decisions increasingly flowed through foreign command centers, leaving the national army both dependent and demoralized.
Meanwhile, the presence of troops from neighboring states, especially Ethiopia and Kenya, introduced a layer of strategic rivalry that turned Somalia’s security map into an extension of regional politics.
The Neighbors’ Shadow — Security or Influence?
Ethiopia’s involvement has always been complicated. Its 2006 intervention, conducted outside the African Union framework, dismantled the Islamic Courts Union but also ignited the insurgency that produced Al-Shabaab. Since then, Addis Ababa has sought to preserve influence by cultivating political allies and supporting local administrations along its frontier — what analysts describe as an effort to build a buffer zone.
Kenya, meanwhile, entered Somalia officially in 2011 under Operation Linda Nchi and later joined AMISOM. Kenyan troops helped recapture Kismayo, a vital port city, but Nairobi’s persistent influence in Jubaland has fueled suspicion that its interests go beyond counter-terrorism to economic and territorial leverage.
Both countries insist their involvement supports Somalia’s stability. Yet their long-term presence has blurred the line between assistance and interference, leaving Somalis to ask whether their sovereignty is being protected — or quietly diminished.
What Has Somalia Gained?
Eighteen years of African Union deployment have yielded mixed results. Major cities are safer, international embassies have reopened, and Somalia has rejoined regional and global forums. But vast rural areas remain outside government control. Al-Shabaab continues to tax, govern, and terrorize communities even near strategic bases.
The foreign presence has not dismantled the insurgency — it has merely contained it.
At the same time, Somalia’s own security institutions remain fragmented and politicized. Clan loyalties and uneven training continue to weaken the army’s cohesion. International donors fund operations, supply weapons, and even pay salaries. Somalia’s security architecture, as a result, stands on borrowed legs — strong enough to walk, but not yet able to stand unaided.
Why the Addiction Persists
Dependency is not born only of weakness — it grows from habit. For many within Somalia’s political elite, foreign troops have become a safety net: protection from Al-Shabaab, from political rivals, and sometimes from accountability. When failures occur, blame is easily outsourced; when success arrives, legitimacy is shared.
The international aid structure has also institutionalized this dependency. Billions of dollars flow annually through donor channels linked to military support, making it risky — even politically unthinkable — for Somalia to sever the cord of reliance without jeopardizing that funding.
Thus emerged a security comfort zone, where initiative is discouraged and dependence rewarded. As long as others are willing to fight, finance, and strategize, the will to build a self-reliant national defence remains weak.
A Call for Security Sovereignty
Minister Fiqi’s statement was not merely an expression of frustration; it marked a strategic awakening. He voiced aloud what many Somalis have whispered: no foreign army, however friendly, can substitute for a national force grounded in patriotism and public trust.
Somalia will still need partners — for training, logistics, and intelligence — but the relationship must shift from protection to partnership. Building a professional force of disciplined soldiers, uniting police, intelligence, and military under one command, and shielding these institutions from political interference are essential to genuine sovereignty.
This will require more than resources; it demands political will. Somali leaders must stop outsourcing responsibility and begin treating national defence as a symbol of independence, not as a donor project.
The Way Forward
The path to self-reliance starts with a clear, time-bound transition plan for the withdrawal of foreign troops, synchronized with the steady empowerment of Somali forces. AUSSOM’s drawdown should proceed in tandem with the growth of a unified national command capable of defending towns, securing key corridors, and protecting citizens.
Equally important is regional diplomacy: Somalia must engage its neighbors in frameworks of mutual respect rather than unilateral interference. The country’s territory can no longer serve as an arena for proxy agendas masked as peacekeeping.
Finally, the international community must internalize a simple truth: no nation can outsource its sovereignty. Support must empower, not entrench, dependence.
Conclusion
Foreign forces have helped Somalia survive — but they cannot make it sovereign. After more than three decades of conflict and interventions, the country’s greatest challenge is not Al-Shabaab alone but its chronic dependence on others for security.
As Minister Fiqi reminded lawmakers, “As long as others guard our borders, our sovereignty remains incomplete.”
It is time for Somalia to outgrow this dependence, to trust its own defenders, and to reclaim the dignity that comes only when a nation protects itself.
Only then can Somalia move from being a state protected by others to a nation capable of protecting itself.
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
