The latest failed attempt by Somalia’s government to block President Muse Bihi Abdi’s successor, President Muse Irro, from visiting Kenya in May 2025 offers yet another clear window into the deep-seated resentment and unprovoked hostility Somaliland faces—simply for existing, governing effectively, and engaging the world as a responsible and dignified actor. The diplomatic ruckus surrounding Irro’s Nairobi visit, where Somalia demanded Kenya deny him entry or restrict his diplomatic engagements, fell on deaf ears. Kenya, like a growing number of regional and international partners, recognizes Somaliland’s record as a stable, democratic, and self-governing territory. The shameful spectacle served only to remind observers of a recurring pattern: Somalia’s obsession with obstructing Somaliland’s progress at every turn.
Despite the uproar, President Irro’s Nairobi visit was a resounding diplomatic success. He officially inaugurated Somaliland’s diplomatic office in Nairobi, marking a significant step forward in formalizing bilateral relations. He also met with President William Ruto in a closed-door meeting described by Kenyan officials as constructive and forward-looking. Furthermore, President Irro held productive discussions with representatives of the African Union, European Union, and key diplomatic missions, further reinforcing Somaliland’s position as a reliable and stable partner in the Horn of Africa. These meetings were not merely symbolic—they reflect a growing recognition of Somaliland’s legitimacy and capacity as a state actor.
This antagonism is made all the more ironic by the historical foundations of the Somali Republic. The white five-pointed star on the Somalia flag represents five Somali territories: British Somaliland, Italian Somalia, Djibouti (French Somaliland), the Somali region in Ethiopia (Ogaden), and the Northern Frontier District in Kenya. Of all these, it was the British Somaliland Protectorate that led the way to Somali unity, gaining its independence on 26 June 1960 and uniting voluntarily five days later with the Trust Territory of Somalia. The Somalilanders who spearheaded the union did so with open hearts, relinquishing their sovereignty in the hope of fulfilling a pan-Somali dream—one that the others never even attempted to fulfill.
“Somaliland was the first Somali territory to become independent and the only one that willingly sacrificed its sovereignty to unify with Italian Somalia,” says Dr. Hussein Bulhan, a leading Somaliland scholar. “But while the people of Somaliland took unity seriously, they were the only ones who paid for it—in blood, in dignity, and in the loss of their statehood.”
The union that was meant to symbolize Somali brotherhood devolved into a hierarchy of exploitation. Within a few years, Somalilanders were marginalized in politics, the economy, and governance. By the late 1980s, the Siad Barre regime launched a brutal campaign against the north, bombarding Hargeisa and Burao and committing acts that Human Rights Watch described as amounting to “crimes against humanity.”
Somaliland withdrew from the union in 1991, following the collapse of the Somali state. Since then, it has rebuilt itself independently—holding six peaceful elections, creating a functioning parliament, instituting peaceful transfers of power, and maintaining internal stability. Despite all this, Somalia’s federal government has done everything it can to erase, sabotage, and distort Somaliland’s reality.
The most visible forms of this sabotage include Somalia’s opposition to every bilateral and multilateral agreement Somaliland signs. When Ethiopia and Somaliland entered into a landmark Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) in 2024 to grant landlocked Ethiopia commercial access to the Red Sea, Mogadishu predictably erupted in fury—summoning ambassadors, calling for international condemnation, and threatening violence.
What makes the situation worse is that Somalia often acts as part of a regional gang, pulling in Djibouti, the Ethiopian Somali State, and sympathetic officials in Kenya to isolate Somaliland diplomatically. These coordinated efforts are less about principle and more about envy.
As former U.S. Assistant Secretary of State Jendayi Frazer stated: “Somaliland fulfills the criteria of a functioning state—stable institutions, rule of law, and a population that supports its governance. The reluctance to recognize it is political, not legal.”
It is not the first time. Somalia has attempted to block port development agreements between Somaliland and the United Arab Emirates, obstructed the Berbera Corridor project supported by DP World, and spread diplomatic pressure on nations hosting Somaliland offices. Somalia has no qualms labeling Somaliland’s international delegations as “rogue,” even when such meetings are clearly diplomatic and developmental in nature. From Taiwan to Kenya, and from the EU to the African Union, Somalia cries foul each time a foreign dignitary so much as acknowledges Somaliland’s existence.
Worse still is Somalia’s repeated and baseless claims that all of Somaliland’s success somehow belongs to Mogadishu, despite the fact that Mogadishu remains a city plagued by clan violence, militant insurgency, and foreign troop dependency. It is a city where elections are indirect, where parliamentarians are often chosen through clan elders and cash exchanges, and where accountability is a dream deferred. Meanwhile, Somaliland continues to demonstrate the exact opposite.
In the words of Michael Keating, former head of the UN Assistance Mission in Somalia (UNSOM): “Somaliland has shown what can be achieved when there is security, credible institutions, and a degree of social cohesion.” Yet Mogadishu continues to paint a false equivalence, attempting to fold Somaliland into its faltering statehood, while offering nothing in return but dysfunction.
What makes this hostility even more irrational is that none of the other Somali territories represented in the five-point star joined the union. Djibouti chose to remain with France in 1958 and opted for independence in 1977 without joining the Somali Republic. The Somali Region in Ethiopia remains part of Ethiopia. The Northern Frontier District remains in Kenya. And yet, Mogadishu directs no vitriol toward them. Only Somaliland is hated—precisely because it has succeeded and exposed the fragility of Somalia’s narrative.
In this context, Somalia’s reaction to President Irro’s Nairobi visit is not an anomaly—it is the norm. And it is a form of diplomatic vandalism rooted in envy, not principle. Mogadishu has never come to terms with Somaliland’s moral, historical, and democratic superiority in the Somali political landscape. Instead, it has weaponized international platforms, lobbying networks, and diplomatic ties to isolate Somaliland and block its recognition. Even development initiatives targeted toward Somaliland are often routed through Mogadishu, with aid either delayed or diluted.
As Professor Abdi Ismail Samatar once remarked, “Somaliland has proven that Somali people can govern themselves responsibly. It is a shame that such an example is met not with celebration but with sabotage.”
In the end, it is clear: the hatred directed at Somaliland is the misplaced vengeance of a failed partner. The very state that championed Somali unity has become the pariah in the eyes of the one government it once joined in good faith. But Somaliland’s resilience and consistency have prevailed, and the international community is beginning to see through the tantrums of Mogadishu.
The Nairobi incident should serve not just as a warning of Somalia’s pettiness, but as a reminder that Somaliland’s dignified conduct, democratic credentials, and peaceful diplomacy are slowly—but steadily—winning the argument. If the dream of pan-Somali unity died, it died not because Somaliland walked away, but because it was the only one who ever showed up.
