HARGEISA / DOHA — Somaliland has crossed a diplomatic threshold that would have been unthinkable just a few years ago. In a series of high-level engagements, President Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi Irro has positioned the Republic of Somaliland squarely inside the Gulf’s strategic conversation — marking a pivot that quietly reconfigures the Horn of Africa’s political map.

Today’s meeting in Hargeisa with Qatar’s Ambassador Abdullah Bin Salem Al Nuaimi followed months of deepening engagement. It underscored a rare development in Gulf-Horn diplomacy: Qatar is now speaking directly to Hargeisa, not through Mogadishu.

The conversation focused on investment, regional stability, humanitarian cooperation, and infrastructure development — the pillars of a long-term state-to-state partnership.

The symbolism was clear. But the substance is even more consequential.

The Doha Breakthrough: Recognition by Practice, If Not by Name

President Irro’s landmark July visit to Qatar marked the first time a Somaliland leader was received by Doha’s senior leadership on explicitly bilateral terms. His meeting with Prime Minister and Foreign Minister Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman Al Thani was both subtle and historic.

Qatar’s language was measured, but its signals unmistakable: it acknowledged Somaliland’s political reality and opened the door to structured engagement.

In diplomatic practice, this is how recognition begins — quietly, incrementally, through cooperation rather than declarations.

During talks with Dr. Mohammed bin Abdulaziz Al-Khulaifi, Qatar’s Minister of State for Foreign Affairs, Somaliland reaffirmed its core position: it is not part of the Federal Government of Somalia but a functioning, self-governing republic for 34 years.

Qatari officials did not counter that assertion. That silence — in diplomacy — speaks volumes.

Economic Gravity Pulls Doha Toward Hargeisa

The economic dimension was even more telling. In meetings with Qatar’s Minister of Foreign Trade, Dr. Ahmed Mohamed Al-Sayed, Irro presented Somaliland’s strongest card: geography.

Sitting at the mouth of the Red Sea, controlling access to the Gulf of Aden, and anchored by the rapidly expanding Berbera corridor, Somaliland offers Qatar a stable commercial gateway at a time when Red Sea security is becoming one of the Gulf’s top strategic anxieties.

Talks explored Qatari investment in livestock, energy, agriculture, mining, infrastructure, and maritime trade — sectors in which Somaliland has both raw potential and strategic relevance.

Qatar sees opportunity. Somaliland sees partnership. The Gulf sees a rising player. Mogadishu sees a problem.

Humanitarian and Development Signals a Larger Shift

Meetings with the Qatar Development Fund and Qatar Charity established concrete pathways for cooperation in education, healthcare, water systems, youth employment, and local industries.

Qatar Charity’s pledge to double its operations in Somaliland marks the most significant humanitarian expansion Doha has ever committed to in the republic.

Each engagement, taken alone, is notable. Taken together, they form a pattern: Qatar is moving toward a parallel relationship with Somaliland, independent of Somalia.

Irro’s Diplomacy Rewrites the Horn’s Strategic Map

Whether intentional or inevitable, Qatar’s opening to Somaliland cracks a long-standing Gulf policy doctrine that treated Hargeisa through Mogadishu’s lens.

President Irro has leveraged this moment with discipline, clarity, and timing — offering Qatar something it has lacked in the Red Sea corridor: a stable, democratic, and strategically located partner.

Somaliland is no longer knocking on the Gulf’s door. It is inside the room. And the geopolitical landscape of the Horn of Africa will not look the same again.

President Irro Breaks the Gulf Wall: Qatar Embraces the Horn’s Rising Power

Somaliland Secures Key Diplomatic and Development Wins During President Irro’s Qatar Visit

Irro in Doha: How Somaliland’s Silent General Just Outplayed the World

President Irro Opens Door to Billions in Gulf‑Horn Trade

President Abdirahman Irro Advances Somaliland’s Economic Diplomacy

Clan Tensions and Cabinet Chaos: Inside President Irro’s Most Dangerous Political Test.

HARGEISA — Not even a year into his presidency, Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi Irro finds himself boxed in by a convergence of political crises that threaten to overwhelm his administration.

What was meant to be a period of consolidation after a peaceful transfer of power has instead devolved into a landscape marked by factionalism, clan pressures and mounting diplomatic vulnerabilities. The stability that Somaliland has long projected to the world is now showing visible cracks.

The confrontation involving former president Muse Bihi Abdi at Cigaal International Airport has become the catalyst for a broader political unraveling.

What began as a dispute over vehicle access quickly escalated into gunshots, public outrage and, most dangerously, the mobilization of armed groups aligned with Bihi’s political base.

Their demand for an official government apology—accompanied by threats of retaliation—amounts to political coercion rooted in clan-based muscle. For a state that defines itself by its break from the militia politics of early 1990s Somaliland, this moment is deeply destabilizing.

Instead of containing the fallout, the government’s response intensified it. A statement by Minister of the Presidency Khadar Hussein Abdi—offering an apology while asserting that “Muse Bihi was wrong”—landed with equal parts confusion and frustration.

It signaled not conciliation but disarray, feeding into a growing perception that the executive is reactive, divided and unable to project coherent authority. For an administration already struggling to demonstrate internal discipline, the episode has become a symbol of weakness.

The airport standoff is only the most visible manifestation of a larger internal drift. Within Irro’s cabinet, conflicting public messages have become common, reflecting either poor coordination or deep ideological fissures. Both interpretations point to a governing structure that lacks cohesion at a time when unity is essential.

More alarming is the resurgence of clan politics, an old fault line that Somaliland worked for decades to contain. The recent dispute over the publication of the “Xeer Iise” customary law book revealed the administration’s inability to manage competing clan pressures.

The government’s abrupt reversal—from accepting the book to banning it amid rising tensions—underscored an executive caught between asserting national authority and placating powerful local constituencies. Meanwhile, clan elders increasingly dominate media debates in place of elected officials, signaling a drift away from institutional governance toward tribal arbitration.

This internal fragmentation comes at the worst possible moment. President Irro campaigned on the promise of achieving international recognition by late 2025—a deadline that now appears politically and diplomatically unrealistic.

Recognition requires stability, unity, and a government capable of demonstrating institutional maturity. Instead, Somaliland today presents an image of fracturing political order just as Somalia is exploiting diplomatic tools—such as new e-visa restrictions—to reinforce its own sovereignty narrative.

The cumulative effect is stark: President Irro is not navigating a temporary turbulence but confronting a structural crisis that threatens the foundations of Somaliland’s political model.

If unchecked, these overlapping fractures risk eroding three decades of hard-won statehood and weakening the very case for recognition that once defined his presidency.

U.S.–Russia Backchannel Diplomacy Raises Fears of Pressure on Kyiv.

As Washington prepares for a new round of direct talks with Moscow, European leaders are bracing for a scenario they have long feared: a peace process that places the burden of concession squarely on Ukraine.

The imminent meeting between Vladimir Putin and Steve Witkoff, Donald Trump’s hand-picked envoy, has triggered a wave of alarm across Europe, where officials worry that Kyiv may be pushed toward territorial and political compromises it has repeatedly rejected.

Kaja Kallas, the EU’s foreign policy chief, captured the anxiety with unusual bluntness. The risk, she warned, is that “all the pressure will be put on the victim,” while the aggressor escapes accountability.

Kallas and other European leaders argue that any deal that rewards Russia’s invasion—by legitimizing territorial gains or limiting Ukraine’s ability to defend itself—would undermine the principles of sovereignty on which Europe’s postwar order rests.

The concerns are not theoretical. A leaked early version of the U.S. proposal, drafted by Witkoff based on a Russian outline, included sweeping concessions: ceding eastern territories Russia does not yet control, restricting Ukraine’s military capacity, and shelving its NATO ambitions.

Although U.S. officials say the plan has since been revised, Ukraine’s allies see the trajectory clearly—and they fear Kyiv will be cornered.

Zelenskyy, who has spent days rallying European support, emphasized that “Russia must not perceive anything as a reward for this war.” His government insists no Ukrainian territory will be traded for a ceasefire.

But Kyiv is negotiating from a position complicated by both battlefield pressures and political turmoil at home, including the sudden resignation of his chief of staff, Andriy Yermak, amid a widening corruption investigation.

European capitals, already uneasy with Trump’s willingness to bypass them, are pressing to ensure they are present at any negotiating table.

France’s Emmanuel Macron and Germany’s Friedrich Merz each warned that peace cannot be dictated “over Ukraine’s head,” while Poland and the Baltic states argue that allowing Russia to redefine borders by force would embolden other authoritarian regimes.

Trump’s envoys—Witkoff and Jared Kushner—have become central figures in this delicate moment. Their private diplomacy, held in venues from Florida golf resorts to Moscow conference rooms, has raised eyebrows in Europe, where officials remain wary of Trump’s transactional approach to global conflict.

For many, the fact that Trump’s team is negotiating without strong European participation is itself a red flag.

Meanwhile, Russia appears emboldened. Its forces have made their largest territorial gains in a year, seizing more than 700 square kilometers in November alone, according to U.S.-based analysts.

Putin has reiterated maximalist demands: full Ukrainian withdrawal from the Donbas and recognition of Russian control—terms even Kyiv’s most cautious allies consider unacceptable.

Yet the diplomatic clock is ticking. Marco Rubio, the U.S. Secretary of State, acknowledged the complexity but expressed optimism after weekend talks with Ukrainian officials.

The next phase—Witkoff’s arrival in Moscow—will test whether “delicate” diplomacy becomes coercive pressure.

The deeper fear in Europe is that Ukraine may be pushed toward a ceasefire that ends the fighting but codifies Russia’s gains, creating a frozen conflict that rewards aggression and leaves Kyiv strategically weakened.

For leaders like Kallas, the precedent would be catastrophic—not only for Ukraine but for European security as a whole.

This, she warned, is a “pivotal week” for the future of the war. It may also be a turning point for the Western alliance.

Global Arms Revenues Hit Record $679 Billion as Nations Rush to Rearm.

A new report from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) shows the world’s largest arms manufacturers posted record sales in 2024, as governments accelerated rearmament in response to the wars in Ukraine and Gaza and rising geopolitical tensions across nearly every major region.

According to SIPRI’s annual ranking, released Monday, the world’s top 100 arms producers increased their combined revenues by 5.9 percent last year, reaching an unprecedented $679 billion. It was the first time since 2018 that all five of the largest firms—led by U.S. giants Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, and General Dynamics—saw simultaneous growth.

The surge underscores a global shift toward long-term military modernization. Companies across Europe and the United States expanded production lines, opened new facilities, and pursued acquisitions to meet soaring demand. Yet SIPRI researchers caution that even as revenues rise, persistent supply-chain vulnerabilities, labor shortages, and cost overruns threaten to slow delivery timelines.

U.S. Industry Grows, but Delays Deepen

American firms accounted for nearly half of all global arms revenues in 2024—$334 billion—an increase of 3.8 percent. But the growth came against the backdrop of mounting delays in marquee Pentagon programs, including the F-35 fighter jet, the Columbia-class ballistic submarine, and the Sentinel intercontinental ballistic missile.

SIPRI analysts warn that these setbacks could complicate Washington’s efforts to rein in spending while trying to replenish stockpiles emptied by aid to Ukraine and Israel. Several major systems expected to anchor U.S. military planning into the 2030s now face uncertain timelines.

Europe Rearms at Historic Speed

Europe posted the strongest regional gains, with arms revenues jumping 13 percent to $151 billion. The rise reflects a profound strategic realignment triggered by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Nearly every major European arms producer increased sales, and some—like the Czech firm Czechoslovak Group—recorded extraordinary spikes tied directly to Kyiv’s urgent demand for ammunition.

Yet Europe’s ramp-up faces its own obstacles. A heavy reliance on critical minerals—historically sourced from Russia and China—has forced companies to rebuild supply chains at higher cost. Industry leaders warn that these structural challenges could slow production just as governments commit to multi-year defense spending increases.

Russia Grows Despite Sanctions

Russia’s two firms in the ranking—Rostec and United Shipbuilding Corporation—reported a 23 percent revenue increase, despite Western sanctions and shortages of imported components. Domestic military demand more than offset a decline in exports. SIPRI analysts note that the Russian defense industry continues to display resilience that many Western policymakers underestimated.

China’s Revenues Fall Amid Corruption Crackdown

Asia and Oceania was the only region to see a decline, dropping 1.2 percent to $130 billion. The decrease was driven almost entirely by China, where corruption probes and procurement disruptions caused major contracts to be delayed or canceled. NORINCO, China’s primary land systems manufacturer, saw revenues fall by 31 percent—one of the steepest drops in the entire ranking.

By contrast, Japan and South Korea reported booming sales as they deepen security partnerships with Europe and expand domestic procurement.

Middle East Arms Industry Expands Rapidly

A record nine Middle Eastern firms, including five from Turkey, entered the Top 100, posting combined revenues of $31 billion. Israeli companies grew by 16 percent despite global criticism of the Gaza war, while the UAE’s EDGE Group continued its rise as one of the world’s fastest-growing state-linked defense conglomerates.

A Defense Industry Reshaped by War

The overall picture, SIPRI says, is unmistakable: The global arms market is entering a period of sustained expansion. The ripple effects—economic, geopolitical, and strategic—will influence global security long after the wars that triggered this surge have ended.

Somaliland Faces a Coordinated Misinformation Assault: Evidence of Foreign Influence Campaigns Emerges. 

The daily churn of online debate in Somaliland has begun to reveal something far more consequential than the fleeting noise of social media.

What once looked like ordinary digital conversation has hardened into a battlefield where no armies appear and no shots are fired, yet the damage reaches deeper than any conventional conflict.

Somaliland, like many small and transitional democracies, now sits squarely in the sights of a relentless information war—one designed to fracture trust, poison public discourse, and destabilize political gains at a moment when the country is making unprecedented diplomatic strides.

Under President Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi Irro, Somaliland has entered a rare period of international visibility, engaging with Djibouti, Kenya, the UAE, Qatar, and other regional partners in ways that strengthen its claim to recognition.

But progress has also made Somaliland a target. External actors—state-aligned, interest-driven, or opportunistic—have exploited digital platforms to push misinformation, inflame internal tensions, and project the illusion of widespread dissent.

The aim is to create psychological disruption before political disruption: to weaken a rising state by attacking its confidence from within.

A central element of this campaign is the weaponization of diaspora voices. A segment of Somalilanders living in Europe and North America have used geographic distance as a shield, spreading radical rhetoric, financing local unrest, and fueling clan-based hostility with an intensity rarely seen among those who actually live inside Somaliland.

Germany’s investigation into Somali influencers active during the Las Anod conflict—involving individuals who openly boasted about militia activity despite holding no valid asylum status—revealed a deeper security gap.

These actors not only import their conflicts into host countries, but they export new waves of grievance back home, often with devastating effect.

Such influence operations are neither spontaneous nor unique to Somaliland. A 2018 RAND Corporation study analyzing more than 22 million tweets exposed how foreign propaganda networks impersonate local identities to manipulate national conversations.

These networks mimic dialects, humor, and social norms to project manufactured sentiments as if they were authentic public opinion.

For years, versions of this tactic circulated widely in Somaliland’s digital sphere. Accounts posing as locals—writing in colloquial Somali, referencing local grievances—were later revealed through platform geolocation tools to be operating thousands of miles away.

The revelation was less a surprise than a confirmation of what many suspected: a coordinated effort to simulate internal division where none existed.

The objective of such campaigns is rarely to persuade people of a specific lie. It is to erode the very idea of truth. Once the public distrusts all narratives—official, journalistic, or grassroots—the battlefield is won. And in a region shaped by fragile institutions and clan-based political dynamics, the consequences of that fog are immediate and dangerous.

Somaliland’s adversaries have adapted their operations to the country’s changing geopolitical environment. As President Irro accelerates diplomatic outreach, the disinformation directed at him has intensified.

stories, manipulated videos, and coordinated misinformation echo across social platforms moments after major foreign policy announcements. Reliable sources indicate these attacks are not isolated but synchronized by anti-Somaliland factions seeking to undercut the country’s growing legitimacy.

Countering this offensive requires a strategy that extends beyond policing rumors. The government must formally alert host nations to the activities of diaspora actors who use Western legal protections to direct instability back home.

There is precedent: European states—Germany in particular—have begun scrutinizing communities whose online incitement has real-world consequences. Somaliland’s diplomatic corps can and should press for accountability.

At home, the Ministry of Information must confront the foundational weakness that makes these campaigns effective: a population that has never been structurally trained to interrogate what it sees online.

Media literacy is no longer an optional reform; it is a national security imperative. A core curriculum that teaches young people how to assess sources, identify manipulation, and understand algorithmic amplification would do more to defend the country than any reactive press conference.

Public institutions must also communicate faster and more transparently, giving citizens timely, factual information before manufactured narratives fill the void.

Somaliland has not been alone in confronting this landscape. Saudi Arabia, among others, has shown how sustained awareness campaigns and improved verification tools can help societies differentiate real sentiment from engineered outrage.

But Somaliland’s resilience will ultimately depend on individual vigilance—the ability of citizens to pause, question, and examine before sharing the content that adversaries rely on to inflame division.

The digital conflict facing Somaliland is a psychological one: a war against trust, identity, and the fragile sense of shared belonging that sustains any nation.

Its weapons are cheap, its operatives invisible, and its impact profound. Yet its greatest vulnerability remains the informed citizen. No technology—no matter how sophisticated—can substitute for a society that refuses to be manipulated.

Countering the Threat: Hostile Information Campaigns Against Somaliland

Somaliland’s Information War Is a Threat to National Security

How Misinformation Is Threatening Somaliland’s Stability

How the Lebanese Militia Lost Its Core Myth – A Regional Analysis.

For nearly four decades, Hezbollah built its legitimacy on a single, seductive narrative: that its weapons existed to deter Israel and defend Lebanon. Wrapped in martyrdom iconography and the myth of “divine victory,” this story became the ideological scaffolding that allowed a militia to eclipse a state.

Today, that scaffolding has collapsed.

Israel’s sustained and precise campaign against Hezbollah’s commanders, infrastructure, and northern networks has exposed the core truth long denied in Beirut: Hezbollah’s deterrence was never real. It was a political illusion—one that disintegrated the moment Israel decided to ignore the group’s mythology and target it at will.

A Resistance Movement With No Freedom to Resist

The debate following the assassination of senior figure Haytham Tabtabai centered on whether Hezbollah would respond. But even asking the question misreads the strategic landscape.

Hezbollah does not decide anymore.

There is no Lebanese decision and Iranian decision. There is only Iran’s decision—filtered through the IRGC chain of command.

The group that once vowed to strike Tel Aviv could not even mount symbolic retaliation for the assassination of its own secretary-general, Hassan Nasrallah. Iran, for its part, responded to Qassem Soleimani’s killing with carefully choreographed theatrics.

The “Axis of Resistance” now resembles less a regional alliance and more a brittle, centralized bureaucracy constrained by Tehran’s political calculations, which today are cautious, defensive, and deeply pragmatic.

The Mask Has Fallen

Hezbollah’s founding charter—“The Islamic Revolution in Lebanon”—was never a metaphor. It was a mission statement. For years, the group hid that mission behind the veneer of Lebanese nationalism and the rhetoric of liberation.

But since October 7, the mask has slipped.

Hezbollah opened the northern front not to defend Lebanon, but to support Hamas—an Iranian strategic initiative coordinated across the Axis. The result was not deterrence but the opposite: the largest Israeli military campaign inside Lebanon since 2006, conducted with unprecedented freedom and minimal pushback.

Lebanese officials still cling to the line that Hezbollah cannot disarm “under occupation,” ignoring the basic fact that it was Hezbollah’s own decision on October 8 that reignited the border conflict.

This is not neutrality. It is political surrender.

Israel’s Strategy: Kill the Story, Not the Territory

Israel has no appetite for a ground invasion that plays to Hezbollah’s strengths. Instead, it is waging a campaign shaped by intelligence dominance, airpower, and tempo: eliminating field commanders, striking logistical hubs, and dismantling precision networks inside Palestinian camps and across southern Lebanon.

Hezbollah cannot claim a single symbolic victory. Israel has denied the militia every arena where it once built its mythology.

Hezbollah’s famed rocket arsenal has become strategically irrelevant. Without Iran’s approval, it cannot be meaningfully deployed. Without a ground invasion, its anti-armor and close-range warfare capabilities are unusable. Hezbollah is trapped in a conflict where Israel decides the rules—and Israel has no incentive to give it the kind of battlefield it needs.

Lebanon Caught in the Collapse

The Lebanese state is not simply absent. It is structurally paralyzed—an institution that has absorbed the logic of the Axis and internalized Hezbollah’s miscalculation as national doctrine.

To suggest that Lebanon can “wait out” Israel’s campaign is fantasy. Hezbollah’s survival is not synonymous with Lebanon’s survival; in fact, the militia’s attrition is eroding its hold over the very political system that allowed it to dominate for two decades.

The losses are severe. The death of cadre-level, early-generation commanders cannot be replaced. These were not just fighters—they were the institutional memory of the organization.

The End of a Story That Powered a Proxy

Hezbollah was never created to liberate Palestine or protect Lebanon. It was designed as an external arm of Iran’s revolutionary project—mobilized when Tehran decides, constrained when Tehran hesitates.

October 7 revealed that structure. It also accelerated its collapse.

Hezbollah now finds itself fighting a war it did not design, at a pace it cannot set, and under strategic conditions it cannot influence. Israel no longer fears the mythology.

Tehran no longer has the freedom to escalate. And Lebanon no longer possesses the sovereignty to intervene.

What remains is a militia stripped of its story, a state stripped of its agency, and a region witnessing the unraveling of Iran’s most powerful proxy—not through Israeli invasion, but through Hezbollah’s own strategic overreach.

Why Erdogan Fears Missiles More Than Extremists Inside Turkey. 

Turkey says it needs its own Iron Dome. President Recep Tayyip Erdogan has approved massive contracts for a new multilayered “Steel Dome” air-defense network, modeled explicitly on Israel’s system. For a country that has spent years denouncing Israel’s military actions, the irony is hard to miss: NATO’s only Muslim-led member now wants the very technology it once condemned.

There is nothing unusual about a state investing in missile defense. The Middle East is volatile, and threats are real. But in Turkey’s case, the strategic logic is difficult to parse.

Who exactly is preparing to launch missiles at Ankara? And more importantly: which adversary is Erdogan truly afraid of—an external military threat or the political consequences of his own regional behavior?

Turkish officials say the Steel Dome is necessary because Israel’s strikes in Iran, Syria, Lebanon, and even Qatar “unnerved” Ankara. That explanation reveals more than it conceals.

Rather than confronting the terrorist groups and authoritarian regimes destabilizing the region—many of which operate with Ankara’s tacit or direct support—Erdogan prefers to portray Israel as the primary source of danger.

The dissonance is striking. Turkey is simultaneously courting a role in post-war Gaza, positioning itself as a responsible power capable of joining any international force.

Yet it still hosts, funds, and grants free movement to Hamas operatives on its own soil. As multiple Israeli officials have argued, Ankara cannot demand access to regional decision-making while enabling the same actors driving instability.

Diaspora Affairs and Combating Antisemitism Minister Amichai Chikli went further, calling Turkey’s behavior “enemy state conduct” and urging the closure of Turkish diplomatic missions.

A Domestic Atmosphere of Intimidation

The deeper problem lies not in Israel, but within Turkey itself. A new report by Aid to the Church in Need documents rising hate speech, intimidation, and state-favored Sunni nationalism—conditions that have worsened since the October 7 Hamas massacre.

Turkey’s small Jewish population, along with other minorities, now faces a hostile environment where conspiracy theories flourish and open nostalgia for Hitler has surfaced in local politics.

This is Erdogan’s real dome: an atmosphere of fear that suppresses dissent, marginalizes minorities, and weaponizes antisemitic narratives for domestic gain. A country in which mobs can target Jewish institutions is not endangered by Israel; it is endangered by the politics of its own ruling party.

Prestige, Power, and Insurance Against Self-Made Risks

So why a Steel Dome? Prestige is part of the answer. Erdogan has spent two decades crafting the image of an ascendant neo-Ottoman power—building drones, warships, and now an indigenous air-defense network to match the narrative.

But the Steel Dome also functions as insurance. When a leader picks fights across the region—against Israel, Greece, Cyprus, and Kurdish forces—he eventually begins to worry about retaliation.

If Turkey faces greater risk today, it is not because of Israel’s actions, but because of Erdogan’s.

Israel built Iron Dome to protect civilians from enemies that publicly vow to erase it from the map. Turkey, by contrast, is erecting a shield while its president attacks Israel more frequently than he confronts extremists inside his own borders.

The Shield Turkey Actually Needs

Missile defense systems can protect airspace, but they cannot stabilize a country whose leadership stokes hostility, shelters militant networks, and governs through political polarization. They cannot stop the radicalization nurtured inside Turkey’s own institutions.

And they cannot compensate for the erosion of democratic norms that has accelerated during Erdogan’s rule.

Turkey does not need a Steel Dome in the sky.
It needs political reforms on the ground.

Real security begins not with interceptors and radars, but with leadership willing to confront extremism, respect pluralism, and act as a responsible regional partner rather than a provocateur.

Until that shift happens, no air-defense system—no matter how advanced—will make Turkey truly safe.

How Praise Triggered Rage: The Psychological Chess Behind Bihi’s Trap — A Friendship Shattered, A Party Divided.

Hargeisa — The dramatic rupture between former President Muse Bihi Abdi and Kulmiye Chairman Mohamed Kahin Ahmed—two men whose political partnership spans the Barre era, the SNM struggle, and the post-war state-building years—has become more than an internal party dispute.

It is a textbook demonstration of how a leader’s greatest strength can harden into his most dangerous vulnerability.

What has unfolded in recent days reveals a familiar political pattern in the Horn of Africa: power brokers who rise through force, endurance, and personal authority often assume their dominance is permanent. In reality, their power is most fragile at the very moment they believe it is absolute.

A Calculated Trigger

Inside Kulmiye circles, many now argue that the confrontation was not spontaneous but a deliberate provocation engineered by Muse Bihi himself. After decades of working side-by-side, Bihi understood Kahin’s psychological architecture better than anyone.

He knew that a direct confrontation would only embolden the Chairman. Instead, Bihi offered public praise—measured, calm, even deferential.

To the public, it sounded conciliatory. To Kahin, it sounded like a challenge.

Unable to leave even a subtle provocation unanswered, Kahin rushed to the cameras and unleashed a blistering, abrasive attack on the man he once called a brother. The outburst shocked the country—its tone, its speed, and the personal venom behind it.

And that, insiders say, was precisely the reaction Bihi anticipated.

Strength That Became Weakness

Mohamed Kahin’s political authority has always been rooted in force: a reputation for toughness, a voice that commands rooms, and the lingering aura of a wartime figure who can intimidate without trying. That image built his career. It also made him the easiest man in Somaliland to provoke.

His hunger for confrontation—once an asset—became a trap.

By taking the bait, he cast himself as the aggressor in a conflict the public did not want. He alienated allies, alarmed neutral figures, and appeared increasingly unhinged at a moment when the party needed calm stewardship. His defining strength—his willingness to fight—became the very trait that isolated him.

The Strategist’s Advantage

Muse Bihi, ever the tactician, emerged from the episode with his political instincts on display. By setting the trap without raising his voice, he shifted the country’s perception of Kahin from veteran statesman to destabilizing force. His strategy reinforced a long-standing truth: the battle is rarely won by the loudest man, but by the one who controls the tempo.

Yet Bihi’s success carries its own peril. His history of sidelining opponents—even long-standing allies—feeds a growing narrative that he trusts no one, values loyalty only when convenient, and views politics as a battlefield to be dominated rather than a system to be shared.

Such mastery can turn into isolation. And isolation, in the Horn of Africa’s political landscape, has destroyed leaders far stronger than him.

A Mirror for Both Men

Somaliland now watches two giants struggle with the consequences of their own identities:

Kahin, undone by the aggression that once made him powerful.

Bihi, strengthened by strategy but endangered by the cold precision of his own methods.

Their feud exposes a broader truth about leadership in Somaliland: the figure who appears unbreakable is often the most predictable, and the most predictable leader is the easiest to defeat.

In the end, the unlocked gate was built not by their enemies, but by the very strengths that carried them to the top.

Somaliland’s Parties Committee Forces Opposition Kulmiye to Hold Leadership Vote

Inside the High-Risk Battle Over Kulmiye’s Future

Kulmiye Civil War: Kahin Accuses Bihi of Leading a ‘Coup’ to Oust Him