Political identity, emerging state structures and conflict in northern Somalia

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Political identity, emerging state structures and conflict in northern Somalia

 

Markus V. Höhne

 

Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology, Halle/Saale, Germany.

 

The Journal of Modern African Studies, Volume 44, Issue 03, Sep 2006, pp 397-414

doi: 10.1017/S0022278X06001820, Published online by Cambridge University Press 03 Aug 2006

 

 

(In this article the clan names have been replaced by regional names, it might confuse you sometimes, but I think you will figure it out).

 

Abstract

This paper discusses the logic of political identification by individuals and groups in the context of re-emerging state structures in northern Somalia. Current identities are analysed as political identities, which are both a product of and a driving force behind political and military conflict in the region. In everyday life political cleavages can be bridged by cross-cutting ties based on neighbourhood, intermarriage or common experiences and history. Only when conflict reaches a certain level and violence escalates, do political identities become mutually exclusive and large-scale fighting become a real threat.

 

INTRODUCTION

 

During the Somali civil war, all state institutions collapsed. Somalia had been led by the dictatorial government of Siyad Barre for more than two decades until 1991. During this period the state at least provided certain services. Over the last 14 years every attempt to rebuild it has failed. This, among a legion of other problems, has led to a crisis of political and national identity among many Somali, raising the question of people’s orientation towards the state. For people in northern Somalia, this question is not about parties or ideologies within a state or an international framework, but about the very existence of a state itself, and the individual and collective identities related to it. With Somaliland in northwestern Somalia and Puntland in northeastern Somalia, two de facto state administrations have been set up which partly fill the state vacuum (Doornbos 2000). As outlined below, their policies towards the future of the greater region and its inhabitants are incompatible and lead to conflict.

 

I argue that as a result of the civil war and certain developments in northern Somalia, new identities have formed on the ground. These identities are not new in the sense that they are invented from scratch, but they combine existing identity markers in a way that is particularly meaningful in the current political context. According to Mamdani (2001: 20), these identities can be understood as political identities. He writes: ‘the process of state formation generates political identities that are distinct not only from market-based identities but also from cultural identities’. Mamdani sees the prescription of certain identities by law and the enforcement of these identities in the context of state-formation as central for the development of political identities. In this way political identities are ‘the consequence of how power is organized’ (ibid.: 22). But they are not only defined ‘from above’. They can also be forged ‘from below’ in the course of political action in contention with the state (ibid.: 23). Mamdani’s distinction between cultural and political identities is important. The former is based on a common past, while the latter testifies to a common project for the future. Furthermore, cultural identities tend to merge into one another and become blurred, while political identities develop towards polarisation and therefore ‘give rise to a kind of political difference where you must be either one or the other. … The difference becomes binary, not simply in law but in political life’ (ibid.). This process of dividing people according to different (legal) identities was, in both colonial and post-colonial times, often related to violence–that of either the colonisers or post-colonial governments against groups of subjects and vice versa (ibid.: 24–39).

The Somali case differs in two ways from Mamdani’s discussion of political identities, which is based on the example of Rwanda. Firstly, in Somalia in general and northern Somalia in particular, legal prescription was less important for the forging of political identities than the political activities of colonial and post-colonial governments and the parties to the civil war. Secondly, the political identities discussed in this paper developed partly in the context of state-formation, and partly in the context of state collapse. These differences do not, however, make Mamdani’s concept inapplicable, but rather help to expand it.

 

Political identities manifest themselves in northern Somalia today as the product of cumulative political conflict and violence, from the time of the anti-colonial uprising of Sayid Maxamed Cabdille Xassan 1899–1920 (see, for e.g. Hess 1968; Sheikh-‘Abdi 1993), up to the struggle of the Somali guerrilla movements in the 1980s and 1990s (see Compagnon 1990; Prunier 1995). A basic understanding of the history and the most salient aspects of political identities in Somalia can be grasped from the literature. According to the classic accounts of northern Somali society (Burton 1987 [1856]; Lewis 1961), patrilinear descent (tol in Somali), Somali customary law (xeer) and Islamic prescriptions were the fundamental principles of social organisation in pre-colonial Somalia. Samatar (1989: 152ff.; 1992: 633–41) and Kapteijns (1994: 220ff.) argue that this basis of society was transformed during colonial and post-colonial times in the context of political and economic change. According to their accounts, descent was increasingly detached from xeer and religion and was, especially under Siyad Barre, manipulated by power-hungry elites. They analyse this process as ‘clanism’. Kapteijns (1995: 258) states that clanism emerged in the colonial era ‘from specific struggles for power not only between the colonial state and local Somali leaders but also among Somali leaders themselves as they operated within (and manipulated) colonial realities’. These struggles continued in post-colonial times. In my view these are the dynamics to which the development of political identities in Somalia can be traced. The forging of mutually exclusive political identities accelerated in the days of fratricide in the Somali civil war, in the late 1980s in northern Somalia and the early 1990s in southern Somalia (see Africa Watch 1990; Human Rights Watch 1995: 22ff.), and continues today in the conflict between Somaliland and Puntland in northern Somalia.

 

Against this background, this short paper focuses on the most recent phase of political identity-formation in northern Somalia. Identities are very flexible in this setting, due to the common practice of ‘climbing up’ or ‘down’ the chain of male ancestors, on which the segmentary lineage system of Somali society is built. However, this kind of cultural identity, to use Mamdani’s phrase, does not contradict the existence of political identities. Segmentary identities, such as clan family, clan and sub-clan are different from the political identity described above, even though in the Somali case they can be incorporated into it.

It is nevertheless important to see political identities as non-static. Mamdani describes the formation of political identities as a process and, as is known from cases of Hutu–Tutsi massacres, the final separation of Hutu and Tutsi at the local level often happened in the very act of killing (Appadurai 1998: 232ff.; Malkki 1995: 78ff.). This was when bonds of neighbourhood, friendship and affinal ties and so on were finally cut. In everyday life, political identities are characterised by a certain flexibility and openness. Mamdani (2001: 20) states that cultural, economic and political identities can overlap significantly. However, flexibility vanishes when violence comes into play.

There follows a brief outline of the current political situation in northern Somalia. Then I describe two identity clusters, which form the basis of political identities in this setting. By showing how these identities are expressed, certain internal contradictions regarding the political claims and the exclusiveness of each cluster become obvious. These contradictions are partly due to, and partly the basis for, cross-cutting ties, and facilitate peaceful cohabitation in the region. However, in the case of serious political and military conflict, these crosscutting ties are cut and mutually exclusive blocks confront each other.

 

 

Somaliland is presented by the government in Hargeysa as an independent state, which seceded from the rest of Somalia in the borders of the former British Protectorate. Its inhabitants belong to different clan families: Waqooyi-Galbeed, Awdal and Northcentral/Northeastern. The Somaliland government claims international recognition for its country on the basis of the clearly demarcated former colonial borders and the support of the majority of the population for independence, which was expressed in the approval of the Somaliland constitution in a public referendum in 2001 (Somaliland 2002). In the context of politics the term ‘Somalilander’ is used by local politicians and by other people pointing to the viability of Somaliland as a nation state borne by a nascent Somaliland national identity.

Puntland is, according to its constitution, part of the Somali state and works towards rebuilding the Somali government. The government in Garowe is based on an alliance of different Northcentral/Northeastern clans, such as Bosaso, Neo-Darwiish and Maakhir (Battera 1999).7 Apart from this genealogical identity, the Somali national identity is adhered to. People supporting Puntland very rarely refer to themselves as ‘Puntlanders’. Mostly they use the term ‘Somali’ when speaking about their nationality.

These different positions conflict most severely with regard to, and also in, the Northcentral/Northeastern inhabited regions of Sool and Sanaag, which are, depending on one’s political position, in eastern Somaliland or western Puntland. These regions are claimed by each of the two governments in northern Somalia. The propaganda issued in the political centres, but also discussions about and manifestations of political identity in daily life, reflect the tensions between the Somaliland and the Puntlander/Somali identity in the study area.

Hargeysa/Central West Somaliland

 

General setting

 

Mostly Waqooyi-Galbeed live in the central west of Somaliland. The Waqooyi-Galbeed are the majority clan family in Somaliland and in colonial times were closely linked to the British. When Somaliland gained its independence on 26 June 1960 political power was in the hands of the Waqooyi-Galbeed. Following unification with the south on 1 July 1960, however, the Waqooyi-Galbeed became politically marginalised, and most social and economic developments took place in the south. This resulted in a large-scale migration of people from northwest Somalia to southern Somalia to obtain higher education and in pursuit of work.

The uneasy relationship with the government in Moqdishu, especially under the military dictator Siyad Barre, finally led to the formation of the Somali National Movement (SNM) in 1981. This guerrilla organisation was mostly Waqooyi-Galbeed based. After the SNM had taken control over the northwest in the context of a general collapse of the state in early 1991, the independence of Somaliland was proclaimed at a conference of all clans living in the region held in Burco. In the last 15 years peace has been restored and a government with its seat in Hargeysa established; since 2001 serious steps have been undertaken to transform the clan-based system of governance into a more democratic system.

 

Expression of identity

 

In early February 2004, a delegation of British parliamentarians arrived in Hargeysa for a 24-hour visit to Somaliland. A splendid welcome was staged at the airport. About two hundred people filled the margins of the airstrip at nine in the morning. In anticipation of the arrival of the plane in 2 hours time, Foreign Minister Edna Aaden and Minister for Information Cabdullahi Maxamed Du’aale, assisted by some policemen and women, organised the show. Girls wearing dresses resembling traditional Somali women’s wear were put in line to the right and left of the estimated landing place. The traditional white of the dress had been replaced by the green, white and red of the Somaliland flag. The girls started singing and dancing to the monotonous beat of their drums long before the arrival of the delegation.

In the centre stood a group of men consisting mostly of members of the bicameral Somaliland Parliament in which elders and representatives represent the clans and regions of Somaliland. A handful of World War II veterans decorated with British medals also took their positions. The scene was completed by the presence of John Drysdale, the oldest British resident of Somaliland, who has been involved in Somali affairs since colonial times.

Among the participants masses of posters with the Somaliland flag and a picture of Queen Elisabeth II were distributed. The headline on the Queen’s poster was: ‘The Queen, our mother’. Some people held large banners with messages referring to the long-standing British–Somaliland friendship and to the recent history of Somaliland. Journalists swept the place photographing and filming the parade. In the background an armada of new four-wheel drives waited to take the VIPs to the city.

 

When the parliamentarians arrived, Edna Aaden and the Minister for Information first received them. Some girls stepped forward and decorated the guests with wreaths of flowers. Following this, Edna Aaden led the group along the masses, whilst the girls danced and sang and the men greeted the guests. Brief conversations were held with the members of the Somaliland Parliament, the war veterans and of course, with John Drysdale. After 15 minutes of shaking hands and posing for the cameras of the journalists, the guests together with the more important participants in the event were carried away by the waiting cars. Along the way to the city spectators had gathered shouting and gesticulating at every car that came from the airport. The police blocked the main roads in the centre of Hargeysa and only government vehicles were allowed to proceed.

 

The event was interesting with regard to which aspects of the Somaliland identity were presented and which were neglected. It was striking how openly the memory of the colonial past was revived. Looking at the scene one could almost think that Somaliland was still a British Protectorate, and indeed, strove after British protection. Not in the sense that the British government should take control of Somaliland once again, but in the sense that London should protect and facilitate Somaliland’s way to international recognition. An amusing example for the direct relation of the ‘airport choreography’ and this political agenda could be read in the papers the following day: it was reported that the war veterans had asked the visitors for their pensions as former British soldiers; however, the veterans assured them that they would happily renounce their claims if the British government would recognise Somaliland.

 

The second theme of the event was the achievements of the Republic of Somaliland since its establishment. The peace and stability of the country were represented by the masses of girls dancing and singing and the absence of any great number of security forces. The ministers and the members of the Somaliland Parliament stood for what has been accomplished politically so far, almost without external help. The idea behind this was simple: the only thing Somaliland is renowned for internationally is its peacefulness and the innovative way in which a new political system has been established. This distinguishes it from the rest of Somalia, where heavy fighting still flares up occasionally

 

Equally important to what was presented at the airport is what was omitted. The 30 years in which the north and the south of Somalia were one country were hidden. The logic behind this huge historical gap is that any relationship with southern Somalia except economic cooperation is an obstacle to Somaliland’s claim to be an independent country deserving international recognition. But this historical omission leads to contradictions with regard to the experiences of the older generation. People over 40, in particular, remember Somalia as it was in the 1960s and 1970s, with a strong national army and widespread international relations. Some of these older Somalis, including some of the active SNM fighters, prefer a future reunion with the south to the independence of Somaliland. They argue that the economy of Somaliland is weak and the number of its people too few to defend itself against potential enemies such as Ethiopia. In their view, economic development and independence based on military power can only be reached together with the Somalis in the south, who are their brothers and sisters, even if split by civil war.

Furthermore, at the airport no reference was made to the SNM and its long and bloody war against the former Somali regime. This is consistent with the current political line of the Somaliland government. The SNM has had its role in the past, but now civilians have succeeded to the rule of the guerrillas, who were almost exclusively Waqooyi-Galbeed. Somaliland today is eager to present itself as a multi-clan state where peace reigns. Efforts were made to efface the intra- and inter-clan warfare, which dominated the guerrilla war and the first years following secession from Somalia. But in fact some of the old inter-clan and political tensions prevail. When politics are discussed in the market of Hargeysa, members of the Dclan family (including the Northcentral/Northeastern clans) are refered to as ‘fa-qash’. The same term is used for people who had positions in the former Somali government in general, including Waqooyi-Galbeed, many of whom have high-ranking positions in the current Somaliland government. ‘Fa-qash’ is translated by Hashi (1998: 170) as ‘a Dirty or corrupt person; filth’.

 

Laascaanood/eastern Somaliland–western Puntland

 

General setting

 

Laascaanood is the capital of the Sool region. Neo-Darwiish, a branch of the Northcentral/Northeastern clan, almost exclusively inhabits Sool. In the early twentieth century the area was the setting for an anti-colonial uprising led by the Oga-den sheikh, poet and politician Maxamed Cabdille Xassan. His followers were called Dervishes (Daraawiishta), the majority of whom were Neo-Darwiish. They fought mostly against the British, aided by Waqooyi-Galbeed troops. Following the defeat of the Dervishes in 1921, the Neo-Darwiish area was effectively incorporated in the British Protectorate. In the 1970s and 1980s, most Neo-Darwiish, being Dclan, supported the regime of Siyad Barre, who belonged to the Gedo clan of the Dclan family. A further factor strengthening this alliance was the appointment of Axmed Suleban ‘Daffle’, a Neo-Darwiish, as the head of the National Security Service (NSS), making him one of the most powerful men in the state. Until 1991 the clan fought on the side of the government against the guerrillas.

When the SNM took over most of the northwest of Somalia, the representatives of the Neo-Darwiish agreed on peace with the Waqooyi-Galbeed. But the majority of the clan did not accept the programme of secession from Somalia agreed on in Burco. In the years that followed the social and political progress of Somaliland was achieved while excluding the Sool region and largely without the participation of the Neo-Darwiish . In opposition to Hargeysa, the Neo-Darwiish played a prominent role in the establishment of Puntland as a Northcentral/Northeastern state in northeast Somalia in 1998. A Neo-Darwiish was made vice president, and the Neo-Darwiish thus became the second power after the Bosaso, the ‘older’ Northcentral/Northeastern brother. The inhabitants of the Sool region have since been split between Somaliland and Puntland.

 

Expression of identity

 

I first met Xassan in Laascaanood in November 2003. He was a Neo-Darwiish, who at the time of our meeting had come only for a visit to Laascaanood. He came from Garowe, the capital of Puntland, where he worked as a high-ranking member of the government. Xassan invited me to visit him in Garowe. I accepted his invitation and spent about a week with him. We talked, among other things, about Dervish history. Xassan told me of his family’s, the Bihidarays, conflict with Maxamed Cabdille Xassan during which the Dervishes massacred several of the Bihidarays men. In reaction to this his family had allied with the British and was involved in one of the most devastating defeats of the Dervishes in a place called Jidbaale in the western Sool region. As Xassan put it: ‘we defeated him [Maxamed Cabdille Xassan] in Jidbaale’. According to Xassan a man called Cawke ‘Jabane’ (Cawke Cabdi Aaden), the leader of Bihidarays in those days, advised the British on how to deal with the Dervishes, including the tactics that later led to their defeat. Some days later as Xassan and I walked the streets, and his mood was jollier, he began to sing poems composed by Maxamed Cabille Xassan. I asked him about that and he answered: ‘I am a Dervish!’

I was told that Xassan was one of the men who had organised the attack against the Somaliland President Dahir Rayaale Kahin in Laascaanood in December 2002. This attack is one of the recent heroic tales told by Puntland hardliners in Laascaanood, and I was very interested in researching it further. Xassan confirmed that he had been involved in this event and gave me an outline of what had happened. Dahir Rayaale Kahin visited Laascaanood on 7 December 2002; hardly anyone in Somaliland or Puntland was informed about this. More than a dozen ‘technicals’ (pick-up trucks mounting heavy machine guns) and about 200 soldiers accompanied the president. In the town several Somaliland followers had organised a number of local forces. The visit was unprecedented; no Somaliland president had previously dared to step foot in Sool.

Puntland had to react, even if totally unprepared. Xassan together with some other Neo-Darwiish politicians collected a force of three technicals and led them from Garowe to Laascaanood. In the early afternoon they passed the eastern checkpoint of Laascaanood without being stopped by the local forces posted to guard the place for Somaliland; the soldiers at the checkpoint were closely related to Xassan. As they entered the town the Puntland forces immediately opened fire, to the utter shock of the Somaliland troops. Following a fierce exchange of fire lasting about 15 minutes, the Somaliland president ordered his troops to retreat. He feared a general uprising of the Puntland followers in town and wanted to avoid bloodshed among civilians. The president left Laascaanood hastily and retreated to Caynabo, a district town in western Sool where Waqooyi-Galbeed are predominant. On the side of Puntland, this rather chaotic operation was hailed as a great victory. Shocked by the event Daahir Raayale Kahin ordered his local shadow administration to leave Laascaanood in the following months. This paved the way for the effective occupation of the regional capital by Puntland one year later, in December 2003.

The next time I saw Xassan was in Laascaanood in late January 2004. He told me that he would remain in town for the next few months as a member of the new Puntland administration. I was astonished to hear three weeks later that Xassan had deserted the Puntland camp and come to Hargeysa, where he had been received well. That a high-ranking member of the administration of the ‘enemy’ had switched sides was celebrated as a victory for Somaliland in the newspapers in Hargeysa. In March I had a chance to meet Xassan in the capital of Somaliland. When I asked him about his change of mind, he said that he had had a disagreement with the Puntland leadership about politics in Sool. In Xassan’s view, Puntland just pushed more and more soldiers into the region, which burdened the already low economy of the state (Puntland) and provoked a military confrontation with Somaliland. An escalation of violence in Laascaanood and Sool would only cause mayhem among the local population, which was already in the grip of a severe drought. There was a more personal reason behind Xassan’s decision to leave Puntland, however. He had not received his salary for about six months, and neither had most of the members of the administration and the army. Furthermore, he felt inadequate and uninspired under the dictatorial rule of President Cabdullahi Yusuf.

This is admittedly an extreme episode, and is also limited to Laascaanood and the Sool regions. Nevertheless, it reveals some important aspects of the political identity of many inhabitants of the region, including some contradictions. To call oneself ‘Dervish’ has two meanings in the current political context of the Sool region, both of which can be located in history. Firstly, in the post-colonial years Maxamed Cabdille Xassan was forged as a national hero who fought with his troops for the political unity of all Somalis. To claim to be a Dervish today refers to the vision of building a strong Somali state united once more, against the secessionism of the Waqooyi-Galbeed, as many Neo-Darwiish see it. Secondly, Maxamed Cabdille Xassan’s contribution extended further than anti-colonial resistance. As oral and written accounts show, he also fought for power in northern Somalia against traditional rulers and their clans, such as Boqor Cusman, the ‘king’ of the Bosaso, the clan currently dominating Puntland politics.

Today the term ‘Dervish’ gives an identity to the Neo-Darwiish in Sool who belong neither to Somaliland nor to Puntland. Due to this indefinite position, Sool is one of the least developed regions in northern Somalia. Only one international organisation has a permanent presence there, and not much comes from either Hargeysa or Garowe. Apart from the heroic tales of the Dervish struggle, the cultural heritage left by Maxamed Cabdille Xassan as a poet is a source of pride for the impoverished Dervishes of today.

Neo-Darwiish today monopolise the Dervish history and use it for political reasons, to distinguish themselves as the ‘Somali’ Neo-Darwiish from the ‘British’ Waqooyi-Galbeed. This aspect of political identity, condensed to ‘everyday propaganda’, can be summarised as follows: while the Waqooyi-Galbeed clans have been allies of the British in the colonial past and today call upon them to back their ambitions of separating from Somalia, the Neo-Darwiish have always remained loyal Somali ‘nationalists’. This contradicts the more realistic and locally well-known accounts of the history of numerous individuals and families. A good number of Neo-Darwiish in fact deserted Maxamed Cabdille Xassan’s camp and joined the British, while some Waqooyi-Galbeed, especially in the first years of the uprising, joined the Dervishes.

Xassan’s story also reveals the feeble nature of the loyalty of many Neo-Darwiish to either state, which is largely determined by material gain of some sort (e.g. a salary or an aid project) from the Somaliland or the Puntland side. When, however, the conflict between Somaliland and Puntland escalates, most Neo-Darwiish ally with their Northcentral/Northeastern brothers. This is clearly demonstrated by the defeat of the Somaliland president in Laascaanood.

 

Northcentral/Northeastern politicians try to forge a ‘natural’ divide between the Waqooyi-Galbeed on the one side and the different Northcentral/Northeastern clans on the other. They therefore have to neglect the cultural and social closeness which developed under British rule between the Neo-Darwiish and the Waqooyi-Galbeed. Members of these two groups studied together in school, and served together as clerks, soldiers or policemen under the British administration. They internalised the ‘British system’, which was distinct from the ‘Italian system’ that the Bosaso and the other former Italian colonial subjects had internalised. On a more local level, intermarriage patterns reveal intensive relations between Neo-Darwiish and Waqooyi-Galbeed clans who have lived for decades as neighbours in the central and northeastern regions of Somaliland. Intermarriage with the Bosaso is not as strong, as many Neo-Darwiish admit freely. Neo-Darwiish elders, asked about what relates their clan to the Waqooyi-Galbeed, quite often reply: ‘Waa isku degaan, waa isku dhaqan; waanu is dhalnay.’ (‘We live in the same area, we have the same culture; we gave birth to each other.’)

 

The desertion of Xassan from Puntland to Somaliland is only partly representative, even if there are similar cases among the Neo-Darwiish highlighting their political flexibility, such as the former speaker of the Parliament in Hargeysa, who deserted Somaliland and became minister of interior in Puntland. However, what might manifest as extreme shifts at the level of politicians, points to a more basic pattern among ordinary people. Many Neo-Darwiish are indeed suspicious of the dictatorial ruling style of the old soldier and warlord Cabdullahi Yusuf. They need him to defend them against complete incorporation into Somaliland, but do not want him to take full control of their affairs. Clearly a number of Neo-Darwiish try to benefit economically from this ambiguity. Some work as politicians or soldiers for the government in Hargeysa, and others for the government in Garowe. The explanation given is that this is merely a pragmatic arrangement, which does not express political beliefs. What matters most is to generate some income in a poor region; politically one does not want to get involved in any trouble. But this obviously does not always work out. When Puntland forces finally entered Laascaanood in a police operation in December 2003, their presence was discreetly criticised by a number of people in town. However, the forces stayed and were massively reinforced by troops in the course of establishing a military administration. In this situation, the uneasiness with domination did not cause the majority of the Neo-Darwiish to switch sides and fully support Somaliland. On the contrary, the Puntland military administration was gradually transformed into a civil administration, which is currently relatively well established in Laascaanood. The main reason for this is that Puntland represents the vision of a re-united Somalia. This fits well with the political attitude of many Neo-Darwiish, who take pride in being the ones holding secessionist Somaliland and war-torn Somalia together.

 

Both de facto state administrations in northern Somalia exploit a variety of different identity markers, based on the everyday or collectively remembered experience of the people living in the greater region, for their political purposes. Hargeysa stresses the common colonial history, which led to a cultural closeness of the people from the former Protectorate of Somaliland, and the inclusive peace process in the 1990s, to incorporate non-Waqooyi-Galbeed into Somaliland. Thereby a political identity–Somalilander–was constructed from above. However, this only works because it relates to certain realities on the ground, where people had similar experiences under British colonial rule, later suffered from and fought in the civil war, and, after a phase of desperation, saw new opportunities for themselves in Somaliland, especially in its prospering capital. Yet, even among the Waqooyi-Galbeed, to whom most of the features of the Somaliland political identity apply, not everyone complies with the policies of the government in Hargeysa. It is hardly astonishing that the Northcentral/Northeastern in Sool (and Sanaag) who in the perspective of Hargeysa belong to Somaliland, without sharing most of these preconditions, are distant from the self-declared Republic. This distance has its deeper roots in a genuine, historically and culturally based reluctance of the Northcentral/Northeastern clans to become fully integrated. Over the years this has given a comparatively lower political profile to the Northcentral/Northeastern in Hargeysa, as well as the absence of an effective Somaliland administration and the stagnation of development in the regions they inhabit.

 

Garowe is eager to attract the Neo-Darwiish and Maakhir as Northcentral/Northeastern brothers by granting them a clan-balanced share in the government, and by adhering to the vision of a united (but federal) Somalia. With the exception of a few individuals, all Neo-Darwiish with whom I spoke about the political future of the Somali shared this vision. By sabotaging the full integration of Somaliland in its colonial borders, Puntland politicians hope to prevent its definitive split from Somalia. Nevertheless, historical events as well as social and cultural practices divide the Northcentral/Northeastern along the former colonial division. Furthermore, two internal political problems of Puntland restrict its political success. Firstly, despite its ‘clan-democratic’ constitution, Puntland still resembles a military dictatorship, in which not much can be done against the will of Col. Cabdullahi Yusuf and his close family. Secondly, due to severe corruption in the government and the very high cost of the Puntland delegation to the Somali peace conference in Mbagathi/Nairobi, the administration is chronically short of money; when even members of the government, the armed forces and the civil administration get their salaries very irregularly or not at all, not much can be given to the communities in the contested Northcentral/Northeastern regions to firmly link them to Puntland.

 

It is clear that the political identities presented in this paper are not ‘invented’. They have, to rephrase Schlee (2004: 148), ‘a certain reality about them, [especially] in the sense of having real effects’. As long as the two administrations in northern Somalia and their followers play their political games without reaching a definitive political conclusion, individuals and groups can manoeuvre. Thus a clash of political identities can be avoided, due to the inconsistencies and contradictions inside the identity clusters which result from and in turn reinforce the cross-cutting ties between them. Peace can be kept in normal life, even if the incompatible positions between ‘Somalilanders’ and the adherents of Puntland/Somalia come to the fore in discussions. However, when either the Somaliland or the Puntland side tries to enforce its policy on the ground, the territorial and mental borders of the political identities close, and serious tensions escalate to the level of military confrontation. This happened on 29 October 2004, when Somaliland and Puntland forces clashed in the countryside near the village of Adhiadeye, about 30 km northeast of Lasscaanood. About 15 soldiers were killed on each side, and several dozen were wounded. Immediately after this event the political climate on the ground worsened, and even people who had previously had a tolerant political position, became extreme in their support for either Somaliland or Puntland. Staying in Hargeysa in October and November 2004, I could observe that the borders of the identity clusters closed; for several nights Waqooyi-Galbeed neighbours threw stones at the houses of a Neo-Darwiish member of the House of Representatives of Somaliland, who had lived with his family in the city for years. In reaction to this the family left Hargeysa for Lasscaanood, which was safe according to genealogical logic. This was not an isolated case. To be a Neo-Darwiish became an accusation in Hargeysa in those days, regardless of one’s personal background.

 

So far the process of state-formation in northern Somalia is basically limited to the core regions of each of the two political entities in the study area. Further endeavours to set up a fully effective state (be it Somaliland or Puntland/Somalia) recognised under international law may produce a large-scale armed conflict.

[me]

Us Somalis know as this researcher has pointed out that the political identity formation in Northern Somalia is along clan lines. The Waqooyi-Galbeed clans are the diving force behind the secessionist cause, whereas the Neo-Darwiish clan has cultivated an identity that centres around Somali Nationalism while looking at its Dervish past for inspiration. Puntland on the other hand is striving for a more pragmatic cause in the current political climate in Somalia, namely a Federal Somali State build along clan lines.

 

These three different political identities that coexist in today’s Northern Somalia are not sustainable in the long term, because of their conflicting interest and the inherent instability of the clan system. Furthermore they are doing irreversible damage to the ideal of Somalinimo and the peaceful coexistence of all Somali clans in one Somali state. The formation of these irreconcilable identities in today’s Northern Somalia are laying the foundations of tomorrows warring mini-states.

 

The political elites of the respective clans of Northern Somalia have appealed to the clan consciousness of their people and for the past 16 years none of the political identities that have been formed has transcended the clan barrier. The Puntland identity has had limited success in replacing the Somali Nationalism in the Neo-Darwiish areas but it has fared better than Somaliland in the Neo-Darwiish regions because of two main points, namely: Puntland does not want to secede from the rest of Somalia and the shared genealogical lineage with the people of the Neo-Darwiish regions. Puntland has also tried to incorporate the Neo-Darwiish identity in its state by for example naming its army the Puntland Daraawiish and by choosing a capital that is near the Neo-Darwiish region.

 

These mini-state (clan) identities have been replacing the Somali National identity that has been promoted by the early democratic governments of Somalia and the Socialist regime. The formation of these mini-state (clan) identities has been very successful. In influential sections of the population the ideal of Somalinimo has been downgraded to a discredited ideology just like its cousin Somaliweyn.

 

In my opinion there is a link between clan power and Somali Nationalism. The higher the influence and power a clan has the less importance it attaches to a strong central authority & Somali Nationalism. The powerful clans see a strong central authority as threat. Clans operate in the clan’s interests and not in the national interest. Each one of the powerful clans sees the central authority as a tool that can be manipulated for their clan’s perceived interests. In the event that a powerful clan sees that their interests are not served by the central authority the powerful clan rebels against it as we have seen in the early clan based rebel movements of Somalia.

 

The less powerful clans on the other hand prefer a strong central authority for exactly the opposite reasons. The less powerful clans see that only a strong central authority can guarantee that their interests are served. In the past we have seen that Somali Nationalism has always had the support of the smaller clans, while it was opposed by the larger clans. The Daraawiish and the SYL 13 are perfect examples of the role that the smaller clans have played in the struggle for Somali liberation while the powerful clans have been willing collaborators with the colonialists.

 

So although Somalinimo & Somaliweyn are downgraded to discredited ideologies in some sections of the Somali population, these ideas are far from dead. Somalinimo still lingers in the memories of the older generation Somali Nationalists and the awakening young patriots and it has a powerbase in all regions and among all clans, especially in the less powerful clans.

 

So ME proposes the alliance of the smaller clans of Somalia to counter the threat posed by the power hungry egotistical,unpatriotic clans.

 

So in your opinion do you think there is a link between clan size and loyalty to the Nation?

[Sharif_seylaci]

this guy is right the puntland administration claims soool and easteren sanaag on behave of there tribe

 

its verry strainge if afganistan invades iran becous the same farsi ppl live there both in afganistan and in iran

 

Or what if daahir rayaale feels like he must invade jabuuti becous his tribe lives there its crazy talk

[me]

^^como estan roaddawg, stop this emotional nonsence. We all know your are Naxar Nugaaleed, Ersalem & all the other undercover am-XAAR-o's. I have been checking ur IP-adress

 

These Am-XAAR-o's come to Somali boards/chats to spread clannist filth and try to seperate people allong clan lines. Wake up Somalis, they are among us.

[Sharif_seylaci]

i dont know those names u named but i am just sharif its the truth claimin land on etnicay thats great it doesent matter the jsl army are inside sool and are taking care those infedels

[me]

IP-adress

[Sharif_seylaci]

And that means explain becous i dont know these ppl and its ramadan been ku sheegi mayoo

[me]

That means you are all the same people. You are one person using all those different names, trying to stir up tribalist sentiments.

 

NaxarNugaleed plays the extremist Puntlander

Sharif saylici plays the extremist secessionist

Ersalem plays the extremist southerner

 

Do you follow me Roaddawg? You are exposed. You play this game to keep the conflict on SOL going, to fill the people’s heads with clannish animosity.

 

You are not Somali and your language is exposing you.

 

So once again COMO ESTAN Roaddawg.

[Sharif_seylaci]

your sick waleh waleh

 

i just suport my country no secsonist or whats so ever man

[me]

^^ True say Blad, you support your country ETHIOPIA.

[Sharif_seylaci]

yes i suport Ethiopia as a federal state

 

I Suport my somaliland as wel as my Djbouti

 

May allah help uss 2 divide our selfs

[me]

^^ WEll done Am-XAAR

[me]

Political identity, emerging state structures and conflict in northern Somalia

 

Markus V. Höhne

 

Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology, Halle/Saale, Germany.

 

The Journal of Modern African Studies, Volume 44, Issue 03, Sep 2006, pp 397-414

doi: 10.1017/S0022278X06001820, Published online by Cambridge University Press 03 Aug 2006

 

 

(In this article the clan names have been replaced by regional names, it might confuse you sometimes, but I think you will figure it out).

 

Abstract

This paper discusses the logic of political identification by individuals and groups in the context of re-emerging state structures in northern Somalia. Current identities are analysed as political identities, which are both a product of and a driving force behind political and military conflict in the region. In everyday life political cleavages can be bridged by cross-cutting ties based on neighbourhood, intermarriage or common experiences and history. Only when conflict reaches a certain level and violence escalates, do political identities become mutually exclusive and large-scale fighting become a real threat.

 

INTRODUCTION

 

During the Somali civil war, all state institutions collapsed. Somalia had been led by the dictatorial government of Siyad Barre for more than two decades until 1991. During this period the state at least provided certain services. Over the last 14 years every attempt to rebuild it has failed. This, among a legion of other problems, has led to a crisis of political and national identity among many Somali, raising the question of people’s orientation towards the state. For people in northern Somalia, this question is not about parties or ideologies within a state or an international framework, but about the very existence of a state itself, and the individual and collective identities related to it. With Somaliland in northwestern Somalia and Puntland in northeastern Somalia, two de facto state administrations have been set up which partly fill the state vacuum (Doornbos 2000). As outlined below, their policies towards the future of the greater region and its inhabitants are incompatible and lead to conflict.

 

I argue that as a result of the civil war and certain developments in northern Somalia, new identities have formed on the ground. These identities are not new in the sense that they are invented from scratch, but they combine existing identity markers in a way that is particularly meaningful in the current political context. According to Mamdani (2001: 20), these identities can be understood as political identities. He writes: ‘the process of state formation generates political identities that are distinct not only from market-based identities but also from cultural identities’. Mamdani sees the prescription of certain identities by law and the enforcement of these identities in the context of state-formation as central for the development of political identities. In this way political identities are ‘the consequence of how power is organized’ (ibid.: 22). But they are not only defined ‘from above’. They can also be forged ‘from below’ in the course of political action in contention with the state (ibid.: 23). Mamdani’s distinction between cultural and political identities is important. The former is based on a common past, while the latter testifies to a common project for the future. Furthermore, cultural identities tend to merge into one another and become blurred, while political identities develop towards polarisation and therefore ‘give rise to a kind of political difference where you must be either one or the other. … The difference becomes binary, not simply in law but in political life’ (ibid.). This process of dividing people according to different (legal) identities was, in both colonial and post-colonial times, often related to violence–that of either the colonisers or post-colonial governments against groups of subjects and vice versa (ibid.: 24–39).

The Somali case differs in two ways from Mamdani’s discussion of political identities, which is based on the example of Rwanda. Firstly, in Somalia in general and northern Somalia in particular, legal prescription was less important for the forging of political identities than the political activities of colonial and post-colonial governments and the parties to the civil war. Secondly, the political identities discussed in this paper developed partly in the context of state-formation, and partly in the context of state collapse. These differences do not, however, make Mamdani’s concept inapplicable, but rather help to expand it.

 

Political identities manifest themselves in northern Somalia today as the product of cumulative political conflict and violence, from the time of the anti-colonial uprising of Sayid Maxamed Cabdille Xassan 1899–1920 (see, for e.g. Hess 1968; Sheikh-‘Abdi 1993), up to the struggle of the Somali guerrilla movements in the 1980s and 1990s (see Compagnon 1990; Prunier 1995). A basic understanding of the history and the most salient aspects of political identities in Somalia can be grasped from the literature. According to the classic accounts of northern Somali society (Burton 1987 [1856]; Lewis 1961), patrilinear descent (tol in Somali), Somali customary law (xeer) and Islamic prescriptions were the fundamental principles of social organisation in pre-colonial Somalia. Samatar (1989: 152ff.; 1992: 633–41) and Kapteijns (1994: 220ff.) argue that this basis of society was transformed during colonial and post-colonial times in the context of political and economic change. According to their accounts, descent was increasingly detached from xeer and religion and was, especially under Siyad Barre, manipulated by power-hungry elites. They analyse this process as ‘clanism’. Kapteijns (1995: 258) states that clanism emerged in the colonial era ‘from specific struggles for power not only between the colonial state and local Somali leaders but also among Somali leaders themselves as they operated within (and manipulated) colonial realities’. These struggles continued in post-colonial times. In my view these are the dynamics to which the development of political identities in Somalia can be traced. The forging of mutually exclusive political identities accelerated in the days of fratricide in the Somali civil war, in the late 1980s in northern Somalia and the early 1990s in southern Somalia (see Africa Watch 1990; Human Rights Watch 1995: 22ff.), and continues today in the conflict between Somaliland and Puntland in northern Somalia.

 

Against this background, this short paper focuses on the most recent phase of political identity-formation in northern Somalia. Identities are very flexible in this setting, due to the common practice of ‘climbing up’ or ‘down’ the chain of male ancestors, on which the segmentary lineage system of Somali society is built. However, this kind of cultural identity, to use Mamdani’s phrase, does not contradict the existence of political identities. Segmentary identities, such as clan family, clan and sub-clan are different from the political identity described above, even though in the Somali case they can be incorporated into it.

It is nevertheless important to see political identities as non-static. Mamdani describes the formation of political identities as a process and, as is known from cases of Hutu–Tutsi massacres, the final separation of Hutu and Tutsi at the local level often happened in the very act of killing (Appadurai 1998: 232ff.; Malkki 1995: 78ff.). This was when bonds of neighbourhood, friendship and affinal ties and so on were finally cut. In everyday life, political identities are characterised by a certain flexibility and openness. Mamdani (2001: 20) states that cultural, economic and political identities can overlap significantly. However, flexibility vanishes when violence comes into play.

There follows a brief outline of the current political situation in northern Somalia. Then I describe two identity clusters, which form the basis of political identities in this setting. By showing how these identities are expressed, certain internal contradictions regarding the political claims and the exclusiveness of each cluster become obvious. These contradictions are partly due to, and partly the basis for, cross-cutting ties, and facilitate peaceful cohabitation in the region. However, in the case of serious political and military conflict, these crosscutting ties are cut and mutually exclusive blocks confront each other.

 

-

 

Somaliland is presented by the government in Hargeysa as an independent state, which seceded from the rest of Somalia in the borders of the former British Protectorate. Its inhabitants belong to different clan families: Waqooyi-Galbeed, Awdal and Northcentral/Northeastern. The Somaliland government claims international recognition for its country on the basis of the clearly demarcated former colonial borders and the support of the majority of the population for independence, which was expressed in the approval of the Somaliland constitution in a public referendum in 2001 (Somaliland 2002). In the context of politics the term ‘Somalilander’ is used by local politicians and by other people pointing to the viability of Somaliland as a nation state borne by a nascent Somaliland national identity.

Puntland is, according to its constitution, part of the Somali state and works towards rebuilding the Somali government. The government in Garowe is based on an alliance of different Northcentral/Northeastern clans, such as Bosaso, Neo-Darwiish and Maakhir (Battera 1999).7 Apart from this genealogical identity, the Somali national identity is adhered to. People supporting Puntland very rarely refer to themselves as ‘Puntlanders’. Mostly they use the term ‘Somali’ when speaking about their nationality.

These different positions conflict most severely with regard to, and also in, the Northcentral/Northeastern inhabited regions of Sool and Sanaag, which are, depending on one’s political position, in eastern Somaliland or western Puntland. These regions are claimed by each of the two governments in northern Somalia. The propaganda issued in the political centres, but also discussions about and manifestations of political identity in daily life, reflect the tensions between the Somaliland and the Puntlander/Somali identity in the study area.

Hargeysa/Central West Somaliland

 

General setting

 

Mostly Waqooyi-Galbeed live in the central west of Somaliland. The Waqooyi-Galbeed are the majority clan family in Somaliland and in colonial times were closely linked to the British. When Somaliland gained its independence on 26 June 1960 political power was in the hands of the Waqooyi-Galbeed. Following unification with the south on 1 July 1960, however, the Waqooyi-Galbeed became politically marginalised, and most social and economic developments took place in the south. This resulted in a large-scale migration of people from northwest Somalia to southern Somalia to obtain higher education and in pursuit of work.

The uneasy relationship with the government in Moqdishu, especially under the military dictator Siyad Barre, finally led to the formation of the Somali National Movement (SNM) in 1981. This guerrilla organisation was mostly Waqooyi-Galbeed based. After the SNM had taken control over the northwest in the context of a general collapse of the state in early 1991, the independence of Somaliland was proclaimed at a conference of all clans living in the region held in Burco. In the last 15 years peace has been restored and a government with its seat in Hargeysa established; since 2001 serious steps have been undertaken to transform the clan-based system of governance into a more democratic system.

 

Expression of identity

 

In early February 2004, a delegation of British parliamentarians arrived in Hargeysa for a 24-hour visit to Somaliland. A splendid welcome was staged at the airport. About two hundred people filled the margins of the airstrip at nine in the morning. In anticipation of the arrival of the plane in 2 hours time, Foreign Minister Edna Aaden and Minister for Information Cabdullahi Maxamed Du’aale, assisted by some policemen and women, organised the show. Girls wearing dresses resembling traditional Somali women’s wear were put in line to the right and left of the estimated landing place. The traditional white of the dress had been replaced by the green, white and red of the Somaliland flag. The girls started singing and dancing to the monotonous beat of their drums long before the arrival of the delegation.

In the centre stood a group of men consisting mostly of members of the bicameral Somaliland Parliament in which elders and representatives represent the clans and regions of Somaliland. A handful of World War II veterans decorated with British medals also took their positions. The scene was completed by the presence of John Drysdale, the oldest British resident of Somaliland, who has been involved in Somali affairs since colonial times.

Among the participants masses of posters with the Somaliland flag and a picture of Queen Elisabeth II were distributed. The headline on the Queen’s poster was: ‘The Queen, our mother’. Some people held large banners with messages referring to the long-standing British–Somaliland friendship and to the recent history of Somaliland. Journalists swept the place photographing and filming the parade. In the background an armada of new four-wheel drives waited to take the VIPs to the city.

 

When the parliamentarians arrived, Edna Aaden and the Minister for Information first received them. Some girls stepped forward and decorated the guests with wreaths of flowers. Following this, Edna Aaden led the group along the masses, whilst the girls danced and sang and the men greeted the guests. Brief conversations were held with the members of the Somaliland Parliament, the war veterans and of course, with John Drysdale. After 15 minutes of shaking hands and posing for the cameras of the journalists, the guests together with the more important participants in the event were carried away by the waiting cars. Along the way to the city spectators had gathered shouting and gesticulating at every car that came from the airport. The police blocked the main roads in the centre of Hargeysa and only government vehicles were allowed to proceed.

 

The event was interesting with regard to which aspects of the Somaliland identity were presented and which were neglected. It was striking how openly the memory of the colonial past was revived. Looking at the scene one could almost think that Somaliland was still a British Protectorate, and indeed, strove after British protection. Not in the sense that the British government should take control of Somaliland once again, but in the sense that London should protect and facilitate Somaliland’s way to international recognition. An amusing example for the direct relation of the ‘airport choreography’ and this political agenda could be read in the papers the following day: it was reported that the war veterans had asked the visitors for their pensions as former British soldiers; however, the veterans assured them that they would happily renounce their claims if the British government would recognise Somaliland.

 

The second theme of the event was the achievements of the Republic of Somaliland since its establishment. The peace and stability of the country were represented by the masses of girls dancing and singing and the absence of any great number of security forces. The ministers and the members of the Somaliland Parliament stood for what has been accomplished politically so far, almost without external help. The idea behind this was simple: the only thing Somaliland is renowned for internationally is its peacefulness and the innovative way in which a new political system has been established. This distinguishes it from the rest of Somalia, where heavy fighting still flares up occasionally

 

Equally important to what was presented at the airport is what was omitted. The 30 years in which the north and the south of Somalia were one country were hidden. The logic behind this huge historical gap is that any relationship with southern Somalia except economic cooperation is an obstacle to Somaliland’s claim to be an independent country deserving international recognition. But this historical omission leads to contradictions with regard to the experiences of the older generation. People over 40, in particular, remember Somalia as it was in the 1960s and 1970s, with a strong national army and widespread international relations. Some of these older Somalis, including some of the active SNM fighters, prefer a future reunion with the south to the independence of Somaliland. They argue that the economy of Somaliland is weak and the number of its people too few to defend itself against potential enemies such as Ethiopia. In their view, economic development and independence based on military power can only be reached together with the Somalis in the south, who are their brothers and sisters, even if split by civil war.

Furthermore, at the airport no reference was made to the SNM and its long and bloody war against the former Somali regime. This is consistent with the current political line of the Somaliland government. The SNM has had its role in the past, but now civilians have succeeded to the rule of the guerrillas, who were almost exclusively Waqooyi-Galbeed. Somaliland today is eager to present itself as a multi-clan state where peace reigns. Efforts were made to efface the intra- and inter-clan warfare, which dominated the guerrilla war and the first years following secession from Somalia. But in fact some of the old inter-clan and political tensions prevail. When politics are discussed in the market of Hargeysa, members of the Dclan family (including the Northcentral/Northeastern clans) are refered to as ‘fa-qash’. The same term is used for people who had positions in the former Somali government in general, including Waqooyi-Galbeed, many of whom have high-ranking positions in the current Somaliland government. ‘Fa-qash’ is translated by Hashi (1998: 170) as ‘a Dirty or corrupt person; filth’.

 

Laascaanood/eastern Somaliland–western Puntland

 

General setting

 

Laascaanood is the capital of the Sool region. Neo-Darwiish, a branch of the Northcentral/Northeastern clan, almost exclusively inhabits Sool. In the early twentieth century the area was the setting for an anti-colonial uprising led by the Oga-den sheikh, poet and politician Maxamed Cabdille Xassan. His followers were called Dervishes (Daraawiishta), the majority of whom were Neo-Darwiish. They fought mostly against the British, aided by Waqooyi-Galbeed troops. Following the defeat of the Dervishes in 1921, the Neo-Darwiish area was effectively incorporated in the British Protectorate. In the 1970s and 1980s, most Neo-Darwiish, being Dclan, supported the regime of Siyad Barre, who belonged to the Gedo clan of the Dclan family. A further factor strengthening this alliance was the appointment of Axmed Suleban ‘Daffle’, a Neo-Darwiish, as the head of the National Security Service (NSS), making him one of the most powerful men in the state. Until 1991 the clan fought on the side of the government against the guerrillas.

When the SNM took over most of the northwest of Somalia, the representatives of the Neo-Darwiish agreed on peace with the Waqooyi-Galbeed. But the majority of the clan did not accept the programme of secession from Somalia agreed on in Burco. In the years that followed the social and political progress of Somaliland was achieved while excluding the Sool region and largely without the participation of the Neo-Darwiish . In opposition to Hargeysa, the Neo-Darwiish played a prominent role in the establishment of Puntland as a Northcentral/Northeastern state in northeast Somalia in 1998. A Neo-Darwiish was made vice president, and the Neo-Darwiish thus became the second power after the Bosaso, the ‘older’ Northcentral/Northeastern brother. The inhabitants of the Sool region have since been split between Somaliland and Puntland.

 

Expression of identity

 

I first met Xassan in Laascaanood in November 2003. He was a Neo-Darwiish, who at the time of our meeting had come only for a visit to Laascaanood. He came from Garowe, the capital of Puntland, where he worked as a high-ranking member of the government. Xassan invited me to visit him in Garowe. I accepted his invitation and spent about a week with him. We talked, among other things, about Dervish history. Xassan told me of his family’s, the Bihidarays, conflict with Maxamed Cabdille Xassan during which the Dervishes massacred several of the Bihidarays men. In reaction to this his family had allied with the British and was involved in one of the most devastating defeats of the Dervishes in a place called Jidbaale in the western Sool region. As Xassan put it: ‘we defeated him [Maxamed Cabdille Xassan] in Jidbaale’. According to Xassan a man called Cawke ‘Jabane’ (Cawke Cabdi Aaden), the leader of Bihidarays in those days, advised the British on how to deal with the Dervishes, including the tactics that later led to their defeat. Some days later as Xassan and I walked the streets, and his mood was jollier, he began to sing poems composed by Maxamed Cabille Xassan. I asked him about that and he answered: ‘I am a Dervish!’

I was told that Xassan was one of the men who had organised the attack against the Somaliland President Dahir Rayaale Kahin in Laascaanood in December 2002. This attack is one of the recent heroic tales told by Puntland hardliners in Laascaanood, and I was very interested in researching it further. Xassan confirmed that he had been involved in this event and gave me an outline of what had happened. Dahir Rayaale Kahin visited Laascaanood on 7 December 2002; hardly anyone in Somaliland or Puntland was informed about this. More than a dozen ‘technicals’ (pick-up trucks mounting heavy machine guns) and about 200 soldiers accompanied the president. In the town several Somaliland followers had organised a number of local forces. The visit was unprecedented; no Somaliland president had previously dared to step foot in Sool.

Puntland had to react, even if totally unprepared. Xassan together with some other Neo-Darwiish politicians collected a force of three technicals and led them from Garowe to Laascaanood. In the early afternoon they passed the eastern checkpoint of Laascaanood without being stopped by the local forces posted to guard the place for Somaliland; the soldiers at the checkpoint were closely related to Xassan. As they entered the town the Puntland forces immediately opened fire, to the utter shock of the Somaliland troops. Following a fierce exchange of fire lasting about 15 minutes, the Somaliland president ordered his troops to retreat. He feared a general uprising of the Puntland followers in town and wanted to avoid bloodshed among civilians. The president left Laascaanood hastily and retreated to Caynabo, a district town in western Sool where Waqooyi-Galbeed are predominant. On the side of Puntland, this rather chaotic operation was hailed as a great victory. Shocked by the event Daahir Raayale Kahin ordered his local shadow administration to leave Laascaanood in the following months. This paved the way for the effective occupation of the regional capital by Puntland one year later, in December 2003.

The next time I saw Xassan was in Laascaanood in late January 2004. He told me that he would remain in town for the next few months as a member of the new Puntland administration. I was astonished to hear three weeks later that Xassan had deserted the Puntland camp and come to Hargeysa, where he had been received well. That a high-ranking member of the administration of the ‘enemy’ had switched sides was celebrated as a victory for Somaliland in the newspapers in Hargeysa. In March I had a chance to meet Xassan in the capital of Somaliland. When I asked him about his change of mind, he said that he had had a disagreement with the Puntland leadership about politics in Sool. In Xassan’s view, Puntland just pushed more and more soldiers into the region, which burdened the already low economy of the state (Puntland) and provoked a military confrontation with Somaliland. An escalation of violence in Laascaanood and Sool would only cause mayhem among the local population, which was already in the grip of a severe drought. There was a more personal reason behind Xassan’s decision to leave Puntland, however. He had not received his salary for about six months, and neither had most of the members of the administration and the army. Furthermore, he felt inadequate and uninspired under the dictatorial rule of President Cabdullahi Yusuf.

This is admittedly an extreme episode, and is also limited to Laascaanood and the Sool regions. Nevertheless, it reveals some important aspects of the political identity of many inhabitants of the region, including some contradictions. To call oneself ‘Dervish’ has two meanings in the current political context of the Sool region, both of which can be located in history. Firstly, in the post-colonial years Maxamed Cabdille Xassan was forged as a national hero who fought with his troops for the political unity of all Somalis. To claim to be a Dervish today refers to the vision of building a strong Somali state united once more, against the secessionism of the Waqooyi-Galbeed, as many Neo-Darwiish see it. Secondly, Maxamed Cabdille Xassan’s contribution extended further than anti-colonial resistance. As oral and written accounts show, he also fought for power in northern Somalia against traditional rulers and their clans, such as Boqor Cusman, the ‘king’ of the Bosaso, the clan currently dominating Puntland politics.

Today the term ‘Dervish’ gives an identity to the Neo-Darwiish in Sool who belong neither to Somaliland nor to Puntland. Due to this indefinite position, Sool is one of the least developed regions in northern Somalia. Only one international organisation has a permanent presence there, and not much comes from either Hargeysa or Garowe. Apart from the heroic tales of the Dervish struggle, the cultural heritage left by Maxamed Cabdille Xassan as a poet is a source of pride for the impoverished Dervishes of today.

Neo-Darwiish today monopolise the Dervish history and use it for political reasons, to distinguish themselves as the ‘Somali’ Neo-Darwiish from the ‘British’ Waqooyi-Galbeed. This aspect of political identity, condensed to ‘everyday propaganda’, can be summarised as follows: while the Waqooyi-Galbeed clans have been allies of the British in the colonial past and today call upon them to back their ambitions of separating from Somalia, the Neo-Darwiish have always remained loyal Somali ‘nationalists’. This contradicts the more realistic and locally well-known accounts of the history of numerous individuals and families. A good number of Neo-Darwiish in fact deserted Maxamed Cabdille Xassan’s camp and joined the British, while some Waqooyi-Galbeed, especially in the first years of the uprising, joined the Dervishes.

Xassan’s story also reveals the feeble nature of the loyalty of many Neo-Darwiish to either state, which is largely determined by material gain of some sort (e.g. a salary or an aid project) from the Somaliland or the Puntland side. When, however, the conflict between Somaliland and Puntland escalates, most Neo-Darwiish ally with their Northcentral/Northeastern brothers. This is clearly demonstrated by the defeat of the Somaliland president in Laascaanood.

 

Northcentral/Northeastern politicians try to forge a ‘natural’ divide between the Waqooyi-Galbeed on the one side and the different Northcentral/Northeastern clans on the other. They therefore have to neglect the cultural and social closeness which developed under British rule between the Neo-Darwiish and the Waqooyi-Galbeed. Members of these two groups studied together in school, and served together as clerks, soldiers or policemen under the British administration. They internalised the ‘British system’, which was distinct from the ‘Italian system’ that the Bosaso and the other former Italian colonial subjects had internalised. On a more local level, intermarriage patterns reveal intensive relations between Neo-Darwiish and Waqooyi-Galbeed clans who have lived for decades as neighbours in the central and northeastern regions of Somaliland. Intermarriage with the Bosaso is not as strong, as many Neo-Darwiish admit freely. Neo-Darwiish elders, asked about what relates their clan to the Waqooyi-Galbeed, quite often reply: ‘Waa isku degaan, waa isku dhaqan; waanu is dhalnay.’ (‘We live in the same area, we have the same culture; we gave birth to each other.’)

 

The desertion of Xassan from Puntland to Somaliland is only partly representative, even if there are similar cases among the Neo-Darwiish highlighting their political flexibility, such as the former speaker of the Parliament in Hargeysa, who deserted Somaliland and became minister of interior in Puntland. However, what might manifest as extreme shifts at the level of politicians, points to a more basic pattern among ordinary people. Many Neo-Darwiish are indeed suspicious of the dictatorial ruling style of the old soldier and warlord Cabdullahi Yusuf. They need him to defend them against complete incorporation into Somaliland, but do not want him to take full control of their affairs. Clearly a number of Neo-Darwiish try to benefit economically from this ambiguity. Some work as politicians or soldiers for the government in Hargeysa, and others for the government in Garowe. The explanation given is that this is merely a pragmatic arrangement, which does not express political beliefs. What matters most is to generate some income in a poor region; politically one does not want to get involved in any trouble. But this obviously does not always work out. When Puntland forces finally entered Laascaanood in a police operation in December 2003, their presence was discreetly criticised by a number of people in town. However, the forces stayed and were massively reinforced by troops in the course of establishing a military administration. In this situation, the uneasiness with domination did not cause the majority of the Neo-Darwiish to switch sides and fully support Somaliland. On the contrary, the Puntland military administration was gradually transformed into a civil administration, which is currently relatively well established in Laascaanood. The main reason for this is that Puntland represents the vision of a re-united Somalia. This fits well with the political attitude of many Neo-Darwiish, who take pride in being the ones holding secessionist Somaliland and war-torn Somalia together.

 

Both de facto state administrations in northern Somalia exploit a variety of different identity markers, based on the everyday or collectively remembered experience of the people living in the greater region, for their political purposes. Hargeysa stresses the common colonial history, which led to a cultural closeness of the people from the former Protectorate of Somaliland, and the inclusive peace process in the 1990s, to incorporate non-Waqooyi-Galbeed into Somaliland. Thereby a political identity–Somalilander–was constructed from above. However, this only works because it relates to certain realities on the ground, where people had similar experiences under British colonial rule, later suffered from and fought in the civil war, and, after a phase of desperation, saw new opportunities for themselves in Somaliland, especially in its prospering capital. Yet, even among the Waqooyi-Galbeed, to whom most of the features of the Somaliland political identity apply, not everyone complies with the policies of the government in Hargeysa. It is hardly astonishing that the Northcentral/Northeastern in Sool (and Sanaag) who in the perspective of Hargeysa belong to Somaliland, without sharing most of these preconditions, are distant from the self-declared Republic. This distance has its deeper roots in a genuine, historically and culturally based reluctance of the Northcentral/Northeastern clans to become fully integrated. Over the years this has given a comparatively lower political profile to the Northcentral/Northeastern in Hargeysa, as well as the absence of an effective Somaliland administration and the stagnation of development in the regions they inhabit.

 

Garowe is eager to attract the Neo-Darwiish and Maakhir as Northcentral/Northeastern brothers by granting them a clan-balanced share in the government, and by adhering to the vision of a united (but federal) Somalia. With the exception of a few individuals, all Neo-Darwiish with whom I spoke about the political future of the Somali shared this vision. By sabotaging the full integration of Somaliland in its colonial borders, Puntland politicians hope to prevent its definitive split from Somalia. Nevertheless, historical events as well as social and cultural practices divide the Northcentral/Northeastern along the former colonial division. Furthermore, two internal political problems of Puntland restrict its political success. Firstly, despite its ‘clan-democratic’ constitution, Puntland still resembles a military dictatorship, in which not much can be done against the will of Col. Cabdullahi Yusuf and his close family. Secondly, due to severe corruption in the government and the very high cost of the Puntland delegation to the Somali peace conference in Mbagathi/Nairobi, the administration is chronically short of money; when even members of the government, the armed forces and the civil administration get their salaries very irregularly or not at all, not much can be given to the communities in the contested Northcentral/Northeastern regions to firmly link them to Puntland.

 

It is clear that the political identities presented in this paper are not ‘invented’. They have, to rephrase Schlee (2004: 148), ‘a certain reality about them, [especially] in the sense of having real effects’. As long as the two administrations in northern Somalia and their followers play their political games without reaching a definitive political conclusion, individuals and groups can manoeuvre. Thus a clash of political identities can be avoided, due to the inconsistencies and contradictions inside the identity clusters which result from and in turn reinforce the cross-cutting ties between them. Peace can be kept in normal life, even if the incompatible positions between ‘Somalilanders’ and the adherents of Puntland/Somalia come to the fore in discussions. However, when either the Somaliland or the Puntland side tries to enforce its policy on the ground, the territorial and mental borders of the political identities close, and serious tensions escalate to the level of military confrontation. This happened on 29 October 2004, when Somaliland and Puntland forces clashed in the countryside near the village of Adhiadeye, about 30 km northeast of Lasscaanood. About 15 soldiers were killed on each side, and several dozen were wounded. Immediately after this event the political climate on the ground worsened, and even people who had previously had a tolerant political position, became extreme in their support for either Somaliland or Puntland. Staying in Hargeysa in October and November 2004, I could observe that the borders of the identity clusters closed; for several nights Waqooyi-Galbeed neighbours threw stones at the houses of a Neo-Darwiish member of the House of Representatives of Somaliland, who had lived with his family in the city for years. In reaction to this the family left Hargeysa for Lasscaanood, which was safe according to genealogical logic. This was not an isolated case. To be a Neo-Darwiish became an accusation in Hargeysa in those days, regardless of one’s personal background.

 

So far the process of state-formation in northern Somalia is basically limited to the core regions of each of the two political entities in the study area. Further endeavours to set up a fully effective state (be it Somaliland or Puntland/Somalia) recognised under international law may produce a large-scale armed conflict.

[Sharif_seylaci]

aND your point is i said its crazy if you claim land by Etnicy and tribe rayaale can claim the holl off jabuuti becous just his tribe lives there and his clan gote almost 30 wassiers in Djbouti its enough to claimm inne