By TheSomali.com | Special Analysis
On a stretch of coastline overlooking the Gulf of Aden, a struggle over Somalia’s future is unfolding far beyond the reach of its capital. Ports are being developed, security forces are being trained, political leaders are cultivating foreign patrons, and agreements with potentially far-reaching military consequences are being negotiated. In Mogadishu, successive governments have struggled to assert authority over a federal system whose constituent administrations increasingly maintain relationships with foreign governments independently of the national government. Thousands of miles away, in Sudan, a war that has devastated entire communities has acquired a logistical dimension involving Somali territory.
Taken individually, these developments might appear to be unrelated matters of commercial investment, regional diplomacy and security cooperation. Viewed together, however, they reveal a more consequential pattern: the growing ability of external powers, particularly the United Arab Emirates and Israel, to pursue strategic interests in the Horn of Africa through relationships that risk weakening Somalia’s central institutions, deepening its political divisions and compromising its sovereignty.
The issue is not whether Somalia should engage with foreign governments. It is whether those governments are prepared to respect Somalia as a sovereign state, with a national government constitutionally responsible for foreign affairs and defence, or whether they prefer a country whose individual territories can be approached, negotiated with and strategically influenced separately.
The distinction is fundamental. A sovereign state can enter partnerships with foreign governments, welcome investment and cooperate on security. What it cannot reasonably be expected to accept is a situation in which external powers cultivate competing political and military authorities within its internationally recognised borders, negotiate strategic arrangements with regional administrations and treat the national government as merely one participant among several.
For more than a decade, the UAE has developed an extensive presence across Somalia. Through investment in ports, security assistance, military training and direct political relationships, Abu Dhabi has established influence in Somaliland, Puntland and Jubaland, three administrations whose relationships with Mogadishu have frequently been contentious.
This approach has given the UAE considerable strategic leverage. It has also created an increasingly difficult question for Somalia: who ultimately determines the country’s foreign policy, controls its strategic infrastructure and decides which foreign military activities may take place on its territory?
The consequences became particularly visible in January 2026, when Somalia’s Council of Ministers announced the cancellation of all agreements with the UAE, including arrangements involving the ports of Berbera, Bosaso and Kismayo, as well as defence and security cooperation.
The decision followed mounting tensions over the UAE’s relationships with Somalia’s regional administrations and Israel’s recognition of Somaliland. Mogadishu accused Abu Dhabi of actions undermining the country’s sovereignty, territorial unity and political independence. The UAE did not immediately issue a public response to the cancellation announcement. Reuters, January 12, 2026.
The regional administrations were quick to reject Mogadishu’s decision. Puntland, Jubaland and Somaliland maintained that their respective agreements with the UAE would continue, despite the federal government’s announcement.
The episode exposed something more serious than a diplomatic disagreement. It demonstrated that a foreign government had developed relationships with political authorities capable of openly challenging the decisions of Somalia’s internationally recognised national government.
Aweis Ahmed, a visiting fellow with Chatham House’s Africa Programme, examined this dynamic in an October 2026 analysis of Somalia’s worsening political crisis. He observed that the UAE had maintained direct relationships with Somaliland, Puntland and Jubaland, while its relations with administrations opposed to Mogadishu were contributing to further tensions. He wrote that retaining influence with the leadership of each territory was critical to the UAE’s wider strategy in the Horn of Africa.
Ahmed also identified a broader pattern in which Somali political elites seek external support to strengthen their domestic positions, offering foreign powers access to strategic infrastructure, economic partnerships and military facilities in return. Chatham House, October 16, 2026.
This is the central mechanism through which foreign influence becomes a threat to sovereignty. External governments do not necessarily need to control a country directly. They can acquire considerable leverage by supporting competing political centres, cultivating relationships with regional leaders and creating dependencies that make those leaders less accountable to national institutions.
In Somalia, the consequences are particularly dangerous because the country’s federal settlement remains politically contested. The 2012 Provisional Constitution explicitly reserves foreign affairs and national defence for the Federal Government under Article 54. Article 53 requires consultation with Federal Member States on negotiations involving foreign aid, trade, treaties and other major international agreements. It does not, however, transfer sovereign foreign-policy authority to individual regional administrations.
The constitutional distinction matters. Consultation is not the same as independent authority to conduct national foreign policy. Federalism does not mean that every regional administration can independently negotiate military arrangements with foreign governments, particularly when those arrangements affect national security, territorial integrity or the country’s international obligations.
Article 90 also gives the president responsibility for signing international treaties proposed by the Council of Ministers and approved by the House of the People.
Somalia’s constitutional framework therefore provides a basis for challenging foreign arrangements that bypass the federal government. Whether a particular port concession or commercial contract is legally invalid requires examination of the agreement, the authority of the parties and the relevant law. But defence and foreign-policy arrangements made independently by regional authorities raise a much more direct constitutional problem.
This distinction is important when examining the UAE’s involvement in Puntland and Jubaland.
In Puntland, the Emirati presence has developed around Bosaso, a strategically important port and airport on the Gulf of Aden. The UAE has supported the Puntland Maritime Police Force, an armed security institution that reports directly to Puntland’s regional leadership. The relationship has provided Abu Dhabi with a substantial security presence in an area of considerable importance to maritime traffic and the wider Red Sea region.
In Jubaland, the relationship has centred partly on Kismayo and the political leadership of Ahmed Mohamed Islam, commonly known as Ahmed Madobe, who has led the administration since 2013. His political relationship with Mogadishu has repeatedly deteriorated, particularly over federal authority, electoral arrangements and the control of security institutions.
The UAE’s historical involvement in the supply of military equipment to Jubaland is not merely a contemporary political allegation. A 2015 United Nations Monitoring Group report documented the delivery of military vehicles from the UAE to the Interim Jubba Administration. It identified Ahmed Madobe receiving armoured vehicles and Toyota pickup trucks at Kismayo port in May 2015. The Monitoring Group noted that the relevant committee had not received notification of the shipment for consideration under the applicable arms-embargo arrangements. Earlier UN reporting had also documented military-type vehicles imported from Dubai into Kismayo in 2014 and subsequently converted into combat vehicles.
These findings are significant because they demonstrate that the controversy surrounding foreign military assistance to regional administrations predates the current political crisis. It is a longstanding problem involving the transfer of military resources to security institutions outside the direct control of the Federal Government. UN Monitoring Group report S/2015/801.
The implications extend beyond individual weapons shipments. When a regional leader receives military equipment, training and financial support through a foreign relationship that bypasses national institutions, the balance of power within the country changes. The regional administration becomes less dependent on the federal government and potentially more dependent on its external patron.
That is not necessarily the same as proving that the foreign government controls the regional leader. But it creates a political relationship in which external support can reinforce domestic resistance to national authority.
The consequences are visible in the continuing disputes between Mogadishu and Puntland and Jubaland. Somalia’s federal system was designed to accommodate regional interests and prevent the concentration of power in the capital. It was not designed to create a collection of competing political territories, each with its own foreign security patron.
The most troubling example of how this external influence can acquire consequences beyond Somalia’s domestic politics is Bosaso.
For years, the UAE’s presence in Puntland has been justified partly through maritime security and counterterrorism cooperation. Yet investigations published in 2026 have raised questions about the use of Bosaso and its surrounding military infrastructure in the Sudanese war.
A May 2026 investigation by Human Rights Watch, titled From Bogotá to El Fasher, documented the movement of Colombian military contractors through Somalia as part of a wider network that supported the Rapid Support Forces in Sudan.
The investigation identified Bosaso as a transit point in the movement of foreign military contractors. One Colombian contractor interviewed by Human Rights Watch described arriving in Bosaso in March 2025, where he spent approximately ten days at what he described as a military base alongside around forty other Colombians. Human Rights Watch geolocated videos recorded during his stay to an area of the Puntland Maritime Police Force compound near Bosaso airport.
According to the contractor, he subsequently travelled by private flight to Abu Dhabi, where he was taken to a UAE military facility and received training before travelling onwards through Chad to Sudan.
Human Rights Watch also documented the expansion and militarisation of Bosaso airport, including the construction of additional hangars, a military apron and associated facilities. It identified a UAE military presence at the airport and at the nearby Puntland Maritime Police Force compound.
The report’s findings are especially consequential because they connect the use of Somali infrastructure to the wider international allegations concerning Emirati support for Sudan’s RSF.
The UN Independent International Fact-Finding Mission for Sudan went further in September 2026. Its report, Fuelling Sudan’s Conflict: Weapons, Fighters and External Support Networks, found reasonable grounds to believe that a transnational network had facilitated RSF military operations through interconnected supply routes involving the UAE, Chad, southeastern Libya and Puntland in Somalia.
The mission specifically identified locations in Puntland as logistical and transit hubs through which weapons, personnel and other military supplies were moved into RSF-controlled areas. It also documented equipment and weapons transferred through routes involving Bosaso.
The UN report is particularly important because it moves the discussion beyond competing political accusations. It provides an independent international investigation identifying Puntland and Bosaso within a wider logistical network supporting one of the parties to Sudan’s war. Human Rights Watch, May 25, 2026; UN Independent International Fact-Finding Mission for Sudan, September 2026.
The legal implications are serious.
The UN arms embargo on Darfur, established under Security Council resolutions 1556 and 1591, remains binding on states. The September 2026 fact-finding report emphasised that states have obligations to enforce the embargo and prevent prohibited military transfers. It also identified the responsibilities that may arise for companies and private military and security contractors involved in weapons, logistics, intelligence and training operations.
The UAE has consistently denied providing military support to the RSF. In statements to international institutions, it has described the allegations as unfounded and maintained that its involvement in Sudan is humanitarian and diplomatic.
Human Rights Watch, however, concluded that the evidence it examined indicated that an Abu Dhabi-based security company with close links to senior Emirati figures had recruited Colombian contractors who subsequently fought alongside the RSF. The organisation said the alleged assistance could constitute aiding and abetting war crimes and crimes against humanity. The UAE’s denial must be recorded, but it does not eliminate the need for an independent investigation.
For Somalia, the question is equally important. How could infrastructure within its internationally recognised territory become part of a logistical network supporting a foreign armed conflict without a transparent national authorisation framework?
If foreign military contractors, weapons or logistical supplies are being moved through Somali airports and military facilities for use in an external conflict, the implications extend beyond a question of bilateral relations. Somalia risks being drawn into a war whose political and humanitarian consequences it has no authority to determine.
The danger is not simply reputational. It concerns the potential exposure of Somali territory to sanctions investigations, diplomatic pressure and retaliation from parties to regional conflicts. It also risks making Somalia’s ports and airports instruments of foreign military policy rather than assets of the Somali state.
Bosaso is therefore more than an airport in a regional political dispute. It has become a test of whether Somalia can exercise meaningful control over the use of its own strategic infrastructure.
The UAE’s relationship with Somaliland presents another dimension of the same problem, this time involving commercial investment, territorial sovereignty and Ethiopia’s search for access to the sea.
In 2016, Dubai-based DP World entered into a long-term concession arrangement with Somaliland authorities to develop and operate the Port of Berbera. Two years later, an expanded investment arrangement was announced involving DP World, Somaliland and Ethiopia. Under the proposed shareholding structure, DP World was to hold 51 per cent, Somaliland 30 per cent and Ethiopia 19 per cent.
The project was presented as a commercial development initiative intended to transform Berbera into an important regional trade gateway. For Ethiopia, a landlocked country with a large population and substantial import and export requirements, the attraction was obvious. For DP World, the port represented an opportunity to strengthen its position along one of the world’s most strategically important maritime corridors.
But for Somalia, the agreement raised a fundamental question: how could an international company and a neighbouring government enter strategic arrangements concerning a major Somali port without the consent of the internationally recognised Federal Government?
Somalia’s government rejected the arrangement as unconstitutional and detrimental to the country’s unity. The federal government was not a party to the agreement.
There is an important legal distinction here. DP World’s commercial concession is not automatically an unlawful international treaty simply because it was concluded with Somaliland’s authorities. Private investment agreements with de facto administrations can raise complicated questions of contract law, recognition and jurisdiction. But the ability to make a commercial arrangement does not confer sovereign authority to determine the international status of territory or independently grant another state military access to it.
The constitutional question is especially significant because foreign affairs and national defence are federal responsibilities. A regional authority cannot acquire sovereign treaty-making powers merely through its ability to exercise de facto control over a port.
Nor should the 2018 arrangement be confused with the separate and more consequential Ethiopia-Somaliland memorandum signed in January 2024.
Under that memorandum, Somaliland announced that Ethiopia would receive access to a 20-kilometre stretch of coastline for fifty years, including arrangements for naval and commercial maritime use. Somaliland said the arrangement would be accompanied by Ethiopia’s recognition of its independence. Addis Ababa’s public account was more cautious, describing an agreement to assess Somaliland’s aspirations for recognition while securing access to a maritime outlet.
The full text of the memorandum was not publicly released, making it difficult to establish the precise legal obligations of the parties. Nevertheless, the announced terms created a serious confrontation with Mogadishu.
Somalia argued that neither Somaliland nor Ethiopia had the authority to conclude an agreement affecting Somali territory and national sovereignty without the consent of the Federal Government.
The African Union, IGAD and other regional actors subsequently emphasised the importance of respecting Somalia’s territorial integrity. The African Union’s position was particularly important because its founding principles place considerable weight on the preservation of inherited borders and the sovereignty of member states.
Under Article 2(4) of the UN Charter, states must refrain from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of another state. Article 125 of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea recognises the right of landlocked states to access the sea and freedom of transit, but this right is exercised through agreements with transit states. It does not provide a landlocked country with a unilateral entitlement to another state’s coastline or territory.
Ethiopia’s need for reliable access to maritime trade is legitimate. Its desire to develop naval capabilities is not inherently unlawful either. The legal problem arises when access to a coastline, the establishment of a military facility or the acquisition of strategic rights is pursued through an arrangement that disregards the territorial state’s sovereign government.
Ethiopia’s ambitions in this area are not new. In 2018, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed announced plans to rebuild an Ethiopian navy despite the country’s loss of direct access to the sea following Eritrea’s independence in 1993. At the time, he said: “We should build our naval force capacity in the future.”
The statement reflected Addis Ababa’s long-term interest in developing maritime capabilities. The 2024 memorandum with Somaliland gave that ambition a much more concrete geographical dimension.
It is important, however, not to confuse Ethiopia’s broader naval ambitions with a proven UAE programme to build the Ethiopian navy. Publicly available evidence establishes Ethiopia’s intention to develop naval capabilities and the UAE’s involvement in the Berbera port arrangements, but does not independently establish that Abu Dhabi has directly financed or built Ethiopia’s navy. The distinction matters when assessing the extent of foreign coordination.
What is clear is that the combination of Emirati commercial interests, Ethiopia’s maritime ambitions and Somaliland’s pursuit of international recognition has created a strategic arrangement with potentially profound implications for Somalia.
The most consequential development came on December 26, 2025, when Israel became the first country to formally recognise Somaliland as an independent state.
The announcement was an extraordinary diplomatic intervention in a dispute that had remained unresolved for more than three decades. Somaliland declared independence in 1991 and has since maintained its own political and administrative institutions. Yet it has not enjoyed broad international recognition as a sovereign state.
Israel’s decision transformed that longstanding dispute into a much wider geopolitical issue.
For Israel, Somaliland offers a strategically valuable position near the Gulf of Aden, the Bab el-Mandeb Strait and the Red Sea. These waterways are central to international shipping and have become increasingly important to Israeli security calculations amid the regional confrontation involving the Houthis in Yemen.
An analysis published by Israel’s Institute for National Security Studies in November 2025, before the formal recognition announcement, identified Somaliland’s strategic geography and potential security cooperation as important considerations for Israel. The research highlighted the territory’s proximity to the Houthi conflict and its potential value as a partner in the wider Red Sea security environment.
The recognition decision therefore cannot be understood solely as a diplomatic endorsement of Somaliland’s self-determination aspirations. It also has a clear strategic context.
Israel’s recognition potentially gives it a new partner in a region where access to maritime intelligence, surveillance infrastructure and military facilities could have considerable value.
Israeli officials have defended the decision by arguing that Somaliland meets the criteria for recognition through its history and effective self-government. But this position does not resolve the wider implications for Somalia’s territorial integrity or the regional consequences of recognising a breakaway territory without agreement with the internationally recognised national government.
At the United Nations Security Council on December 29, 2025, Somalia’s Permanent Representative, Abukar Dahir Osman, condemned the decision as an assault on Somalia’s territorial integrity. He argued that the recognition was contrary to the UN Charter and the African Union’s founding principles.
The UN Assistant Secretary-General Khaled Khiari, briefing the Council, recalled that the Security Council had repeatedly affirmed respect for Somalia’s sovereignty, territorial integrity, political independence and unity. He also urged peaceful dialogue between Mogadishu and Hargeisa.
The significance of this response should not be underestimated. Somalia’s territorial integrity is not merely a domestic political position. It is recognised within the international diplomatic framework and repeatedly affirmed by the United Nations and regional organisations.
Recognition by one state does not automatically establish an internationally accepted sovereign state. Nor does it extinguish the territorial claims of the recognised state from which a region has unilaterally declared independence.
The International Court of Justice’s 2010 advisory opinion on Kosovo is relevant to understanding the limits of this legal debate. The Court concluded that international law did not generally prohibit declarations of independence. It did not, however, establish a general right of unilateral secession or require other states to recognise every territory that declares independence.
The legal and political consequences of Israel’s decision must therefore be considered separately. Recognition is an act of foreign policy, but it can become a source of international tension where it appears to undermine the territorial integrity of another state or is accompanied by arrangements that interfere in its domestic affairs.
Israel’s move also raises questions about the relationship between its strategic interests and those of the UAE. Both countries have developed important relationships around the Red Sea, and Somaliland’s location provides opportunities for economic and security cooperation.
The two governments should not automatically be assumed to be operating under a single coordinated plan. Nevertheless, the convergence of their interests deserves careful attention.
The potential consequences for Somalia are substantial. An internationally recognised foothold for Israel in Somaliland could encourage other governments to reconsider their own positions, deepen the political confidence of separatist authorities and make the eventual settlement of Somalia’s territorial dispute more difficult.
It could also intensify the competition between regional powers, particularly Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia and the UAE, whose interests in the Horn of Africa increasingly overlap.
The issue is not that Ethiopia or Israel should be prohibited from pursuing legitimate security and economic interests in the region. It is that those interests cannot reasonably be pursued by disregarding the sovereignty of another country.
Somalia’s geography is not an invitation for foreign powers to redesign its political map.
The wider consequences are also visible in the growing strategic competition between the UAE and Turkey. Turkey has invested heavily in its relationship with Mogadishu, including military training, infrastructure and security cooperation. It operates a major military training facility in Somalia and has developed strategic defence arrangements with the federal government.
The UAE, meanwhile, has cultivated a more geographically dispersed network of relationships, maintaining ties with both federal institutions and regional administrations.
These approaches are not identical. Nor should Turkey’s own strategic interests escape scrutiny. But there is a fundamental difference between a foreign government conducting security cooperation through the internationally recognised national government and one cultivating relationships with competing administrations in ways that risk weakening national authority.
The distinction is institutional rather than sentimental. Somalia should not be required to choose between foreign patrons. It should insist that all foreign partners respect the same constitutional and legal framework.
The danger of failing to do so is already becoming visible. When external powers can provide political, financial and security support to competing Somali administrations, domestic political disagreements become internationalised. Regional leaders gain incentives to seek foreign backing rather than compromise with Mogadishu. Foreign governments, in turn, acquire leverage over the internal political direction of the country.
This is how a constitutional dispute can become a geopolitical conflict.
The experience of Sudan, Libya and Yemen provides a warning. Each country has experienced the devastating consequences of internal political divisions interacting with external military and financial intervention. Somalia should not assume that its circumstances will necessarily produce the same outcome, but neither should it ignore the lessons.
A particularly dangerous possibility is the emergence of competing security structures, each supported by different foreign partners, operating within the same internationally recognised country. Such an arrangement would weaken the national chain of command, undermine the development of a unified military and create opportunities for external actors to influence domestic political outcomes.
It would also weaken Somalia’s ability to confront al-Shabaab and Islamic State-linked groups. Every political crisis that diverts national resources away from security operations gives extremist organisations an opportunity to reorganise and expand their influence.
The question facing Somalia is therefore not simply how to respond to the UAE or Israel. It is how to rebuild a political and constitutional order capable of resisting external manipulation.
Mogadishu must begin by establishing clear national rules for foreign investment, port concessions, military cooperation and access to strategic infrastructure. Every agreement involving defence, foreign affairs or national security must be subject to constitutional scrutiny and appropriate parliamentary oversight. The government should publish the terms of existing agreements wherever security considerations do not justify confidentiality.
It should also seek an independent investigation into the use of Bosaso and other Somali infrastructure in foreign military operations, with cooperation from relevant international institutions. The findings of Human Rights Watch and the UN fact-finding mission provide a substantial basis for further investigation.
The federal government must also address the domestic political grievances that make regional administrations susceptible to foreign influence. A federal system cannot survive through coercion or the assumption that every disagreement with Mogadishu is an act of disloyalty. Regional administrations have legitimate political, economic and constitutional interests. Those interests must be accommodated through genuine dialogue and an agreed distribution of powers.
But federalism must not become a vehicle for the fragmentation of national sovereignty.
The same principle applies to Ethiopia. Somalia should remain open to negotiations on trade, port access and regional economic integration. Ethiopia’s large population and commercial requirements make it an important economic partner. But any maritime arrangement involving Somali territory must be negotiated with the sovereign government of Somalia and in accordance with international law.
Israel, too, must understand that establishing relations with Somaliland at the expense of Somalia’s territorial integrity carries consequences that extend beyond its bilateral relationship with Hargeisa. It risks creating a dangerous precedent in an already unstable region.
Ultimately, Somalia’s response must be grounded in law, diplomacy and national unity rather than inflammatory rhetoric. The country should pursue international legal remedies where appropriate, mobilise the African Union and United Nations, and build partnerships with states that support its territorial integrity.
The UAE and Israel are not the only foreign powers with interests in Somalia, and neither can be treated as the sole explanation for the country’s political problems. Somalia’s own leaders have repeatedly contributed to the weakness of its institutions through political competition, inconsistent foreign policy and the prioritisation of personal and factional interests.
That domestic failure is precisely what gives external actors room to operate.
The former national security adviser who recently criticised the restoration of relations with the UAE raised an important question when he said he had warned the government about the dangers of renewed cooperation. His account deserves public scrutiny, particularly regarding what warnings were delivered, to whom and how they were addressed. But the larger issue transcends the political fortunes of any individual administration.
Somalia cannot defend its sovereignty selectively, depending on which president occupies Villa Somalia or which political faction benefits from a foreign relationship.
A country that condemns foreign interference when it affects one administration but welcomes it when it benefits another has no coherent sovereignty doctrine.
The same standard must apply to every foreign power and every Somali political leader. Puntland cannot claim that foreign defence arrangements are exclusively a regional matter when they affect national security. Jubaland cannot treat foreign military assistance as a substitute for constitutional authority. Somaliland’s pursuit of international recognition cannot automatically confer the right to negotiate away the sovereignty of the Somali state. And Mogadishu cannot demand national unity while refusing to resolve the political disagreements that undermine it.
The central question is whether Somalia will remain a sovereign country capable of determining its own international relationships, or whether its strategic geography and internal divisions will allow more powerful states to determine its future on its behalf.
The Red Sea is becoming one of the world’s most contested strategic regions. The Gulf of Aden, Berbera, Bosaso and Kismayo are not simply commercial locations. They are gateways to maritime trade, military access, regional influence and the security of international shipping.
Somalia’s coastline is an extraordinary national asset. Its ports, airports and territorial waters should contribute to the country’s development and security, not become instruments through which external powers advance competing agendas.
Ethiopia has a legitimate interest in maritime access. Israel has legitimate security interests in the Red Sea. The UAE has legitimate commercial interests in port development. None of these interests grants any of them the right to undermine Somalia’s constitutional order or territorial integrity.
There is a difference between partnership and political penetration, between investment and strategic control, and between diplomatic relations and the cultivation of competing authorities.
Somalia must insist that this difference be respected.
The country does not need to isolate itself from the world. It needs a government strong enough to engage the world without surrendering its independence.
Somalia’s sovereignty is not a bargaining chip, its coastline is not foreign property, and its internal divisions are not an invitation for powerful states to decide its future.
