Puntland
is furious at Türkiye. Jubaland is furious at Türkiye. Both have spent the past
five weeks accusing Ankara of killing their own people. Neither is in a
position to make that accusation as a matter of principle. Puntland's ports are
run by the UAE. Jubaland's survival for over a decade has depended on Kenya.
The one Somali federal member state that tried to stand apart from any foreign
patron — South West State — was crushed by federal troops within 48 hours in
March.
This
is not a story about Somali federal member states defending sovereignty against
a foreign power. It is a story about which foreign power each side has chosen.
Puntland's
own patron
Puntland's
Bosaso port has been run by Dubai's DP World since 2017, under a 30-year
concession. In 2022, DP World and the Puntland government signed a roughly $366
million expansion plan for the port, according to regional trade reporting.
When Mogadishu cancelled all of its agreements with the UAE in January 2026,
Puntland refused to go along. President Said Abdullahi Deni flew to Abu Dhabi
for talks the following week. Puntland's government argued the federal
cancellation had no legal authority over a regional matter. DP World kept operating
Bosaso regardless.
In
March, Puntland went further. It formally reaffirmed its security cooperation
with the UAE, stating plainly that Mogadishu "has no authority over
Puntland's security responsibilities." The UAE, for its part, confirmed it
would keep funding and training Puntland's Maritime Police Force, cancellation
or no cancellation. As recently as September 12, Middle East Eye reported
Puntland was still openly defying Mogadishu's break with Abu Dhabi, months
after the fact.
None
of this makes Puntland's accusations against Türkiye false. Thirteen people are
dead off its coast, and the two governments involved can't even agree on what
they know. Türkiye told the BBC it had no information about the strikes.
Somalia's own State Minister for Defense, Omar Ali Abdi, told reporters in
Mogadishu that the federal government had prior knowledge of the strike near
Garmaal — directly contradicting Türkiye's denial. Neither government has
explained the gap. In Eyl, protesters — joined by Nugaal's own governor, deputy
governor, and a Puntland army general — burned Türkiye's flag over the
killings. Puntland's outrage sits inside a relationship of its own — one where
a foreign power funds its security forces, runs its port, and gets defended
against the same federal government that's supposed to speak for the whole
country.
The
UAE is not Puntland's only foreign backer, either. In August, Puntland
President Deni signed a security agreement directly with a U.S. delegation from
Africa Command, expanding the American military base at Bosaso — announced
through Puntland's own State House, bypassing Mogadishu entirely. The expanded
base is aimed at ISIS-Somalia fighters in the Cal Miskaad mountains and
Al-Shabaab, and is widely understood to double as a staging point for potential
operations against Yemen's Houthi rebels. A follow-up meeting to accelerate the
plans took place September 1. Puntland, in other words, doesn't lean on one
foreign military. It leans on two.
Jubaland's
patrons run deeper — there are two of them
Jubaland's
relationship with Kenya predates the current dispute by fifteen years. Ahmed
Madobe's own security force — then called the Ras Kamboni Brigade — fought
alongside Kenyan troops during Kenya's 2011 invasion of southern Somalia.
Kenyan forces helped him take Kismayo from Al-Shabaab in 2012. He has run
Jubaland, and its port revenue, independently of Mogadishu ever since.
That
alliance has only deepened. In December 2024, Jubaland forces clashed with
federal troops at Ras Kamboni. According to reporting from the time, several
hundred retreating Somali soldiers crossed into Kenya and were disarmed at a
Kenyan military base before Jubaland retained the territory and Madobe kept
power. When Mogadishu imposed an air blockade on Jubaland last year, Madobe
flew out anyway — to Kenya, for talks with Kenyan officials, defying the
embargo outright. Kenya has mediated Jubaland-Mogadishu disputes for years. A
Horn Review analysis published in June put Kenya's calculation plainly: Nairobi
is "highly unlikely to sacrifice a reliable and battle-tested partner in
Kismayo for an uncertain Somalia-centric arrangement."
Kenya
is not the only foreign military backing Jubaland. Ethiopia is the other.
Somali Guardian reported that Ethiopian troops allegedly supported Jubaland
forces directly in clashes with the Somali National Army at Dolow in December
2024. Jubaland's own vice president, Mohamud Sayid Adan, has held repeated
meetings with Ethiopian military commanders and is described by Garowe Online
as "widely regarded by many Somalis as Addis Ababa's chief proxy."
Ethiopian National Defense Force troops are stationed inside Jubaland's own
Gedo region. In October 2025, senior Ethiopian military and intelligence
officials traveled to Dolow to warn Somali clan elders directly against forming
any rival administration to Madobe's, calling the prospect "a direct
threat to Ethiopia's national security." Somali Guardian summarized the
arrangement plainly: Madobe "has ruled Jubaland for more than 15 years
with the backing of both neighboring countries."
It's
worth noting neither Kenya's position nor Ethiopia's is simple. Kenya also
contributes 1,410 troops to the African Union's stabilization mission that
props up the same federal government it has, at other moments, undercut by hosting
Jubaland's forces and its exiled rivals of Mogadishu. Ethiopia, too, keeps
troops inside the federal stabilization mission while separately backing the
regional government that mission's own federal government is trying to bring to
heel. Both of Jubaland's patrons are playing both sides of Somalia's federal
divide at once, not picking one outright.
Anti-Türkiye
protests have swept Jubaland's own towns, too — Doolow, Garbahaarrey, Kismayo,
Afmadow — with demonstrators burning Türkiye's flag, and in some towns, Egypt's
as well. Placards read, in Somali, "We don't want Erdoğan, we don't want
Turkey."
Jubaland
has also mirrored, almost exactly, the move it condemns in Mogadishu. It
amended its own constitution to extend Madobe's term from four years to five,
overriding federal term limits, in the same way President Hassan Sheikh
Mohamud's government did nationally in March. Both governments accuse each
other of illegitimacy. Both did the same thing to get there.
Even
the opposition coalition Puntland and Jubaland lead together — the Somali
Future Council, founded in October 2025 — is headquartered in Nairobi.
A
third Kenya problem, and it has a body count
There
is a separate, more serious Kenya question, and it isn't about Jubaland's
government at all. It's about a man Kenya has refused to hand over.
Abdiaziz
Laftagareen, the ousted president of South West State, fled to Nairobi on March
30, the day federal forces took Baidoa. He has been based there ever since —
and from Nairobi, he has directed a running campaign against the city that once
was his. Clashes in May left at least six dead. A July mobilization saw his
ally, General Mahad Abdirahman — Laftagareen's father-in-law and a former
commander of Somalia's prison service — moving forces toward Baidoa's outskirts.
In August, his forces struck again: the federal government said it repelled the
assault and killed at least 30 attackers, while Laftagareen's side claimed, in
an account that could not be independently verified, that his forces had
briefly taken the city center before withdrawing. A second attack on September
3 seized two federal bases before withdrawing, killing the commander of South
West President Adan Madobe's own personal guard and wounding a senior army
officer. Médecins Sans Frontières treated 71 people wounded that day at Bay
Regional Hospital, including 15 women and 12 children.
A
23-year-old journalist, Bashir Mohamed Abdullahi, was shot twice in the back
that day while trying to reach safety. He died four days later — the second
Somali journalist killed this year, according to the Somali Journalists
Syndicate.
South
West State's own Security Minister has publicly called on Kenya to arrest
Laftagareen and extradite him, holding him "responsible for recent attacks
and bombings in the city" and saying he "must face accountability for
the violence." South West's Council of Ministers has gone further still,
formally designating Laftagareen and his militia a terrorist organization
allied with Al-Shabaab.
Kenya
has done neither. Laftagareen remains in Nairobi. He continues, from there, to
insist he is still the legitimate president of a state he no longer controls,
and to speak openly of plans to "liberate" it.
Whether
Kenya's government is actively protecting Laftagareen or simply has not been
pressed hard enough to act, the outcome is the same: a man formally accused by
a Somali regional government of directing deadly attacks operates freely from
Kenyan soil.
The
one state that had no patron
South
West State's Laftagareen tried something Puntland and Jubaland never did. He
broke with Mogadishu without a foreign security guarantee behind him. When
federal troops moved on Baidoa in March, the Somali National Army took the city
in 48 hours. Opposition figures at the time accused Turkish forces of providing
aerial support to that federal offensive — a claim neither confirmed nor
independently verified, but one that fits the pattern: the side with Türkiye's
backing won, decisively, against the side that had none.
Residents
of villages around Baidoa had burned Türkiye's flag once before, in August —
the earliest of the three protests referenced above, predating both the
Puntland and Jubaland demonstrations — saying airstrikes had killed their
livestock and damaged the farmland they depend on to survive. Anger at Türkiye
in South West State, in other words, predates Laftagareen's own campaign
against it.
Ten
weeks later, Adan Madobe was elected president of South West State in the same
city, with full federal backing and no comparable resistance. Mogadishu treated
the matter as settled.
It
was not. Laftagareen has spent the five months since proving it, from exile, in
a country that has not moved to stop him.
What
this actually shows
Mogadishu,
for its part, does not describe its relationship with Türkiye in these terms.
Barre's own farewell remarks made that plain. Federal officials describe the
Türkiye relationship as a partnership rooted in shared history, not a patron
arrangement — the same language Puntland uses about the UAE, and Jubaland
avoids using about either Kenya or Ethiopia at all. Each side has a foreign
backer. Only some sides admit it.
Mogadishu
also isn't relying on Türkiye alone. After the UAE cancellation, Qatar stepped
into the gap, signing a security agreement with the federal government and
funding a new force loyal to it. Regional analysts describe the goal plainly:
building "a centrally loyal force capable of reasserting authority over
defiant regions." Puntland, Jubaland, and Somaliland's own security
establishments reportedly view that Qatari-trained force as a private army for
Villa Somalia, the seat of federal power in Mogadishu — the same accusation,
almost word for word, that could be made about Türkiye's own Gorgor commandos,
the Turkish-trained Somali unit already at the center of the fighting in
Baidoa. Saudi Arabia signed its own military cooperation agreement with
Mogadishu in February, and Egypt has deployed roughly 10,000 troops in support
of the federal government, tied to its own dispute with Ethiopia. One regional
analysis names the bloc outright: Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, and Qatar,
aligned together against the UAE and Israel.
Puntland
and Jubaland are not defending Somali sovereignty against foreign interference.
They are defending their own foreign arrangements against a federal government
that has assembled a bigger, better-armed coalition of its own. The UAE and the
United States back Puntland. Kenya and Ethiopia both back Jubaland, and Kenya
has taken no action against the man trying to violently retake South West State
besides, while both Nairobi and Addis Ababa also fund the federal mission meant
to stabilize the country their other hand is helping destabilize. Türkiye,
Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt back Mogadishu, and by extension, the campaign
that removed the one regional leader who had no comparable patron of his own.
The
dead in Puntland's waters and the dead in Baidoa's hospitals are not victims of
a fight between a foreign power and Somali sovereignty. They are casualties of
a fight between foreign powers, conducted with Somali forces, on Somali soil,
with Somali civilians and one Somali journalist paying the price so far.
Nobody
in this fight is neutral. Increasingly, nobody in Somalia can afford to be.
--------------------------------
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
Ismail
Abukar is Co-Founder and Chairperson of the Organization for Prisoners' Rights
(OPR), an independent civil society organization based in Mogadishu, Somalia.
He has conducted primary field research in Somalia for seven years, covering
prisoners' rights, enforced disappearances, press freedom, and electoral
corruption. His investigations have been published by African Arguments and
Horn Observer, including "Somalia's New Speaker Got His Seat Through a
Military Operation,""The Disappeared," and "A Government
With One Foot Out the Door: Somalia's Foreign Passport Crisis." He holds
an MA in International Law and Human Rights from the University for Peace
(UPEACE) and maintains an active ORCID record: 0009-0003-1435-3691.

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Somalia's Federal Member States Aren't Defending Sovereignty — They're Defending Their Patrons - No One in This Fight Is Neutral
Horn Observer about 2 hours 11 mins read
This article was sourced from an external publication.
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