Somalia: between violence and hope

Wirepullers: sedici anni dopo Restore Hope, l'operazione militare americana che risultò in un fallimento totale, la Somalia è sempre più in caduta libera, verso il caos e l'ingovernabilità. Non solo pirati, che di romantico hanno ben poco, ma clan religiosi, tribalismo e signori della guerra: questa sono i veri protagonisti della spirale di distruzione che ha investito il corno d'Africa. In una regione dove le guerre civili possono trasmettersi ai paesi vicini come un'influenza, data l'instabilità cronica di questa zona dell'Africa, è urgente trovare una soluzione rapida e durevole, oltre che giusta. Affinchè ciò che si racconta oggi della Somalia, non lo si debba raccontare domani con riferimento a tutto il continente nero. (3)

The endemic conflict in Somalia continues to devour lives and divert resources from the reconstruction of the country. Only a political solution that offers Somalis the promise of a better life will bring it to an end, say Harun Hassan & David Hayes.

The war in Somalia goes on. The sentence is so familiar that it could have been written on almost any day since 1991. Yet such familiarity does not lessen the pain of the many thousands hurt by violence and displacement, or by the hunger and poverty that war has also inflicted. Each latest death and injury, each enforced flight and disrupted schooling, hits with the rawness of the first.

There is an endless search for movement beyond the chaos, however. Somalis survive and build their lives as best they can amidst it - in the country itself, as well in the diverse (and sometimes flourishing) diaspora. Somalis recreate and sustain their homeland even in the absence of a functioning state - through local institutions and networks, through mobile and virtual connections, through conferences and gatherings, through clan solidarities. In doing so they keep alive the dream of a peaceful, sovereign and secure country where they can live in dignity.

The ongoing conflict in Somalia may overshadow these efforts, but it never entirely eclipses them. At the same time it is hard for Somalis to explain to outsiders what after all this time the war in their country is actually about and why it has lasted so long. How is it that one of the most homogeneous societies in the world created a failed state with its own hands? What is the core problem: money, land, oil, clan, political leadership, the United States, Ethiopia, piracy, terrorism, kidnapping, environmental degradation? There is no simple answer. What then is the solution? Here, the answer is clearer: everything comes back to politics.

The ingredients
Every lengthy conflict can be divided into phases. In the case of Somalia, the roots of the current situation can best be understood by tracing a line of descent from what has happened since the second half of 2006.

The story of these three years is of the rise to prominence of the Islamic Courts Union (ICU) movement in the south of the country, and their brief takeover of the capital, Mogadishu; the lightning incursion and subsequent occupation of Ethiopian troops, ostensibly in support of the transitional federal government (TFG) of Somalia based in Baidoa, who ejected the courts from the capital only to face a burgeoning resistance from the even more militant al-Shabab militias; the presence of a limited and ineffective African Union peacekeeping force; the collapse of the TFG and its replacement; the withdrawal of the Ethiopians; the rise of piracy and a consequent revival of global interest in what is happening in Somalia.

All these events within a relatively short period of three years have left Somalia still torn, with fighting in Mogadishu in the first two weeks of July 2009 resulting in dozens of deaths as shelling by al-Shabab and the forces of Somalia's president of six months(and former ICU leader), Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, battle it out in the streets; as many as fifty-one were killed and 212 injured in intense fighting on 12 July alone.

In early January 2007, the defeat of the ICU by the Ethiopian troops in support of the Somali government of then-president Abdullahi Yusuf ignited an armed insurgency led by the Islamic Courts and clan militias from the southern parts of the country. Brutal clashes in the capital claimed the lives of at least 10,000 people - most of them civilians - and displaced up to a million others. The corrosive violence was aggravated by the Somali government's failure to pursue reconciliation with its emerging national challengers. Meanwhile Ethiopia's military tactics incurred strong international criticism. The widespread human-rights violations by all sides and in-fighting among the government's top leadership meant that the political, security and humanitarian condition of Mogadishu and south-central Somalia deteriorated even further. This situation remained constant throughout 2007 and 2008.

The negotiations
The first significant political manoeuvres came in November 2007, when President Yusuf and his uncompromising former prime minister Ali Mohamed Gedi parted company. The ensuing appointment of two individuals - a new premier, Nur Hassan Hussein, who worked on the humanitarian field, and a new special envoy, the Mauritanian-born diplomat Ahmedou Ould-Abdallah - changed the picture.

These two individuals made contact with the main leadership of the insurgency, the ICU and former parliamentarians who had opposed Ethiopia's incursion. The ICU, led by Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, was based in Asmara, capital of Eritrea (Ethiopia‘s bitter rival). These significant contacts led to ten days of talks between government and opposition in Djibouti, which resulted in an accord signed on 11 June 2008. The Djibouti accord provided for the withdrawal of Ethiopian troops, a key insurgency demand; the cessation of hostilities, a key government demand; and the merging of the two militias to ensure security after the Ethiopian evacuation.

The Djibouti accord, however, created a further rift within the transitional government. In December 2008, after a running dispute over the concessions given to the insurgents, President Yusuf announced the sacking of prime minister Hussein. However, Hussein had the support of the United Nations and the United States.

The Ethiopians, unable to continue expensive military operations without political gains by the government they were supporting, also were looking for a face-saving exit. Ethiopia announced it would withdraw troops in accordance with the Djibouti agreement. All these sides put pressure on Yusuf to resign and let the premier negotiate with the opposition.

The talks came to fruition in January 2009. The key achievements of the deal were the withdrawal of Ethiopian troops; the formation of a new government led by former opposition and ICU leader Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed; and the expansion of the parliament to 550 members, bringing together representatives of the TFG and ICU.

The fighting
A group of former Islamic fighters has continued the struggle against the new government. Those who are leading the two sides are religious leaders; those who are calling for - and imposing - more death and destruction are religious people, not (as before) warlords.

The ongoing violence has disappointed the expectations raised when members of the international community welcomed the new Somali president to Brussels and pledged substantial funds in support of his government. A powerful trio - the United Nations, the European Union and the United States - all declared full support for Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed and the Somali leadership, describing the new situation as "the best and most credible opportunity for Somalia for a long time".

The bulk of the money promised to Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed was intended to establish a security and police-force totalling 34,000 to be recruited from the nine regions of south-central Somalia which have been the focal point of the country's troubles. But as the president returned to Mogadishu to initiate the actions needed to unlock the assigned funds, his government came under attack from two (loosely allied) Islamic groupings: al-Shabab and Hizb-ul-Islam.

Both al-Shabab and Hizb-ul-Islam (the latter itself divided) are in effect splinter groups of the former Islamic Courts Union, which have declared strong opposition to the new transitional government. Their fighters have pursued the war despite and against the package of political moves designed to bring it to an end by attacking rival Islamic (but pro-government) militias, capturing several of their bases, occupying areas and settlements outside Mogadishu - and (in July 2009) waging a ferocious assault inside the capital itself.

The international community's response has in rhetorical terms at least been firm. The UN special envoy, Ahmedou Ould-Abdallah, described the militias' operations as an attempt to overthrow the government. A number of other authorities - including the European Union, the African Union, the Arab League, and the United States's under-secretary for Africa, Johnnie Carson - also condemned the attacks.

The new government attempted to regroup by assembling an impromptu force - including military personnel trained in Ethiopia and Uganda (inherited from Abdullahi Yusuf's unpopular government), several hundred former ICU fighters, and an equal number of militias from loyal clans. This body was in turn supported by about 4,000 troops from the African Union Mission in Somalia (Amisom), who had been defending the government and key installations in Mogadishu (among them the seaport, airport and the presidential palace).

Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed retains considerable political capital in the south of Somalia, as well as in Mogadishu itself (where Abdullahi Yusuf's government failed to get the support of the local clans). However, the new president and government are faced with a highly-trained and well-led opposition that composes the most powerful military force in Somalia today. The main group, al-Shabab, has thousand of fighters who are determined to overthrow the government, force Amisom to withdraw and form an Islamic government. The other group, Hizb-ul-Islam, is less advanced in military terms than al-Shabab but is led by influential Islamist figures such as Sheikh Hassan Dahir Aweys.

In fact, it was the return of Sheikh Hassan Dahir Aweys from Asmara that inspired the opposition to launch its attack on the government. Sheikh Aweys is another former prominent figure in the ICU who once worked alongside President Ahmed. However, when Ahmed himself left Eritrea in early 2008 to begin negotiations in Djibouti with the TFG government, Sheikh Aweys was sceptical - and stayed behind in Asmara. As the talks in Somalia progressed, the differences between the two leaders grew wider - to the point where their political coalition, the Alliance for the Reliberation of Somalia (ARS), broke apart in May 2008 after only eight months of existence.

The mediation
There were attempts, in Yemen and Sudan, to reconcile Sheikh Ahmed and Sheikh Aweys. These came to nothing. As the Djibouti process evolved in parallel, Sheikh Aweys's animosity towards Sheikh Ahmed intensified. Some of Somalia's best-known scholars and most influential clan elders intervened in a fresh attempt to arrange a ceasefire and find a path towards reconciliation. These too have proved abortive. Sheikh Aweys has said that he will not sit down with Sheikh Ahmed until the latter relinquishes the presidency and Amisom troops are withdrawn.

President Ahmed, by contrast, has declared his readiness to talk to Aweys and other opposition figures. In an attempt to ease the conflict, his government has accepted an earlier demand from the scholars and signed a document approving Islamic law as the basis of all Somalia's legal systems, after this had been approved by the cabinet and the newly expanded parliament.

The exit
The military threat to the president represented by al-Shabab and Hizb-ul-Islam means that he is unlikely to accept the opposition's demand to withdraw Amisom troops, which are one of his few ostensible protections (despite being widely disliked in Somalia, in part because of their shelling of civilian areas during periods of fighting). Indeed he wants the African Union to build Amisom's troop-strength to the original planned total of 8,000; as the conflict in early July 2009 escalated, Somalia's prime minister Abdirashid Ali Sharmarke said that he expected more Amisom soldiers to arrive within days. Sheikh Ahmed also seeks to secure the financial support pledged to train new police and security forces.

There is broad agreement between the Somali political leadership and international actors that this government represents a confluence of two contrasting ideologies - western-backed secular governance and moderate former members of the Islamist-led insurgency. The process that led to its formation saved the transitional federal institutions (parliament, charter and government), led to the withdrawal of the resented Ethiopian troops and brought elements of the Islamic agenda into Somalia's formal political mechanisms.

Now the process, and Somalia's opportunity for a political way forward, is again at a crossroads. The daunting security challenges mean that the president will have to take specific steps in order to save his government from what has become a major threat. These include communicating a consistent message to the Somali public, the opposition and the international community: over Amisom, the training and promotion of former ICU commanders, the merging of the former and new militias into a modern armed force, and persuading Somalia's international partners to convene a second donor conference aimed at raising money specifically for Somalia's rebuilding and development.

There is a very delicate political as well as security task involved here. Somalia's infrastructure has been devastated by the years of war. The president needs evidence of progress in reconstruction that can put the skills of Somalis tired of figting to use in job-creating contributions to the rebuilding of roads, houses, schools, airports and ports. But this in turn requires that he secures and keeps the support of the clans and clan-elders of the areas where al-Shabab and Hizb-ul-Islam operate. The two militias control large areas but do not necessarily have the support of the local clans. The government, if it can surmount the pressing militia challenge, has opportunities to make progress.

This in turn makes it vital that the international community implement its promises to support the Somali government financially and politically. It has to speak out against the groups and individuals that are accustomed to derailing every possible channel for peace and progress. This is a task that combines short- and long-term objectives, in which different international agencies need to be involved.

The United Nations would, for example, perform a valuable service if - as recommended by Ahmedou Ould-Abdallah - it initiated a commission to map the human-rights violations and acts of violence against Somalis during almost twenty years of war and mayhem. In a similar vein, the appeal by fifty Somali MPs and civil-society leaders in Nairobi on 15 July 2009, asking that the international community help to strengthen Somali institutions, focuses on an important part of the current agenda.

Somalia's insecurity remains deep-rooted. Yet the political process of 2008-09 has given Somalis a chance to take back control over their own destiny. It is the best they have had for a long time. If this one too is drowned in violence, Somalis will be obliged to continue to build their country as best they can without the functioning state and set of institutions that remain just beyond their grasp.

Autori: Harun Hassanm, David Hayes

Fonte: www.opendemocracy.net

Somalia: un incubo senza fine

Wirepullers: sedici anni dopo Restore Hope, l'operazione militare americana che risultò in un fallimento totale, la Somalia è sempre più in caduta libera, verso il caos e l'ingovernabilità. Non solo pirati, che di romantico hanno ben poco, ma clan religiosi, tribalismo e signori della guerra: questa sono i veri protagonisti della spirale di distruzione che ha investito il corno d'Africa. In una regione dove le guerre civili possono trasmettersi ai paesi vicini come un'influenza, data l'instabilità cronica di questa zona dell'Africa, è urgente trovare una soluzione rapida e durevole, oltre che giusta. Affinchè ciò che si racconta oggi della Somalia, non lo si debba raccontare domani con riferimento a tutto il continente nero. (2)

C'è davvero al Qaida nello Stato fallito?

La nuova escalation di violenza. Il governo chiama i signori della guerra. Nuovi protagonisti: cos’è Ahlu Sunna wal Jama'a. L’opposizione islamista: alla ricerca di una leadership.

Ritorna la guerra a Mogadiscio e in Somalia fra le milizie filogovernative e l’opposizione islamista composta dai combattenti di al-Shabab e Hizbul Islam. Più di trecento vittime nella sola capitale nelle ultime tre settimane e un numero di sfollati oramai salito, secondo stime UNHCR, a più di 200mila, dipingono in maniera esaustiva la tragicità della situazione. Intanto, a Ginevra, l'United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) denuncia continue violazioni dei diritti umani commessi da entrambi i fronti, non solo ai danni della popolazione civile ma anche di giornalisti locali. Come se non bastasse inoltre, in questo macabro scenario si susseguono false notizie che spesso colgono impreparata anche la stampa internazionale; come quella dell’esecuzione a Baidoa di sette somali di fede cristiana accusati dagli Shabab si essere spie al soldo dell’occidente, oppure della fantomatica presenza in Somalia di combattenti stranieri di al-Qaida. Ma come si spiega la nuova spirale di violenza? C’è davvero la mano della rete qaidista dietro il fronte di opposizione islamista somalo? E inoltre, perché le nuove istituzioni transitorie – nonostante il sostegno internazionale – stentano ad uscire vittoriose dallo stallo politico e militare in cui tutt’oggi si trovano? La nomina lo scorso inverno delle nuove Istituzioni Transitorie allargate ai moderati dell’ARS (Alleanza per la Re-liberazione della Somalia) non si è materializzata nella formazione di un vero e proprio governo di unità nazionale, ma si è trattato piuttosto di una sostituzione di leadership culminata con l’elezione di Sheikh Sharif Sheikh Ahmed a presidente delle Istituzioni Federali di Transizione. L’uscita di scena dalla compagine governativa dei fedelissimi dell’ex presidente Abdullahi Yusuf ha determinato anche una sostituzione di milizie sul campo. L’apparato militare del Governo Transitorio infatti, prima dell’uscita di scena dell’Etiopia, si è quasi sempre appoggiato su "mercenari" Darawish (circa 3.500) originari del Puntland. Le dimissioni di Abdullahi Yusuf e il ritiro dell'Etiopia hanno lasciato Sheikh Sharif con le sole forze del nuovo ministro della sicurezza Omar Hashi (per lo più Hawiye un tempo al soldo delle Corti Islamiche) e dei peacekeepers dell’Unione Africana.

Per supplire alla mancanza di milizie armate, lo scorso giugno, il Governo Federale di Transizione è stato costretto ad organizzare a Villa Somalia un incontro con un gruppo di capi milizia strettamente connessi alle Istituzioni Transitorie dell’ex presidente Yusuf, e per questo conosciuti anche come "Mbaghatini", dal nome della località del Kenya dove si è aperto il processo di riconciliazione nazionale somalo che diede vita nel 2004 alle Istituzioni Federali di Transizione. Tra i partecipanti all’incontro erano presenti importanti uomini Abgal (stesso clan del presidente) come Musa Sudi Yalahow, Mohamed Omar Habeeb “Dhere” e Omar Mahamud Mohamed "Finish". L’intento del nuovo GFT è stato quello di allargare le proprie forze cercando di inglobare pericolosi capi milizia che in passato, ai tempi delle Corti, lo stesso presidente Sheikh Sharif aveva sempre osteggiato. Alle nuove milizie Abgal si sono poi aggiunte quelle di Yusuf "Indhadde", ex ministro della difesa delle Corti Islamiche che in passato presiedeva – prima di essere destituito dalle milizie di al-Shabab alla fine del 2008 – un’amministrazione nelle regioni agricole del basso Scebeli dominata con la forza dal suo influente sottoclan Ayr (Hawiye/Habar-Gedir). La scelta del GFT di inglobare le milizie di “Indhadde” – dati gli aspri rapporti di quest’ultimo con gli Shabab, e specialmente con l’ex portavoce Abu Mansur “Robow” – ha finito col precludere qualsiasi tipo di accordo tra le istituzioni transitorie e l’opposizione islamista. Inoltre, la nuova entrata dell’Etiopia in Somalia, e principalmente nelle regioni di confine dell’ Hiiraan e del Galguduud, ha finito per smontare anche la propaganda politica del governo somalo, il quale faceva dell’uscita di scena del contingente di Addis Abeba dal territorio uno dei suoi punti forti. A complicare ulteriormente il lavoro del governo vi è stato anche il clamoroso attacco dove ha perso la vita lo stesso ministro della sicurezza Omar Hashi, ucciso lo scorso giugno da un attentato suicida a Beledweyne, 300 chilometri a nord di Mogadiscio. L’attacco, rivendicato da al-Shabab, ha dimostrato non solo la capacità del movimento islamista di colpire anche importanti personalità governative, ma anche la nuova strategia adottata dai “giovani”; come usare aspiranti martiri dello stesso sottoclan delle vittime designate, in modo da non aprire contestualmente contenziosi clanici. Una dimostrazione questa di come il movimento tenda ad utilizzare strumenti coerenti all’ambiente sociale somalo (come il clan appunto) per perseguire i propri obiettivi militari e politici.

L’uscita di scena di Omar Hashi non solo ha rappresentato la perdita di uno degli uomini forti del nuovo governo, ma anche la conseguente diserzione delle sue milizie, assottigliando ulteriormente l’apparato di sicurezza del governo. In questo clima così precario per le nuove Istituzioni Transitorie, si è aperta così la nuova pesante offensiva dell’opposizione islamista nella capitale, dove sono stati presi di mira anche alcuni quartieri relativamente sicuri come Yaqshid, Karan e Abdulaziz. A sostenere il governo nella propria difesa contro gli insorti, oltre a un manipolo di caschi verdi ugandesi e burundesi dell’Unione Africana, i quali però – almeno su carta – avrebbero tutt’ora un mandato esclusivamente difensivo, si è unito anche un nuovo gruppo, conosciuto con il nome di Ahlu Sunna wal Jama'a (ASWJ), e operante principalmente il quella che viene definita dai somali stessi come “Galmudug” (che sta per l’insieme delle regioni del Galguduud e del Mudug). Ma in cosa consiste il movimento di Ahlu Sunna wal Jama'a? E perché oggi segue la stessa agenda politica del governo? Formalmente Ahlu Sunna wal Jama'a tende ad autodefinirsi come un gruppo islamista “moderato”, fondato nei primi anni Novanta principalmente in contrapposizione ad Al-Ittihad al-Islami (AIAI). Il movimento racchiudeva diversi Sheikh il cui obiettivo era quello di riunire sotto un'unica guida alcune confraternite sufi somale come la Qadiriyya, la Salihiyya e la Ahmadiyya. Il presidente riconosciuto di questa organizzazione risiede tutt’oggi in Arabia Saudita, e prende il nome di Moalim Mohamud Sheikh Hassan, del clan Hawiye - Habar Gedir (Ayr). Questa figura è generalmente molto rispettata in Somalia dagli ambienti sufi, anche di altri clan. Dopo il 2006 però, la struttura di ASWJ ha subito diverse modifiche, principalmente per volere dell’allora primo ministro Mohamed Ali Ghedi, il quale tentò di riorganizzarne i vertici in opposizione ai movimenti radicali di al-Shabab e di quelli presenti nelle Corti Islamiche (principalmente del gruppo di Hassan Dahir Aweys). Questa operazione, denominata con il nome saxwa (in somalo “moderati”), portò all’interno del gruppo altri leader, per lo più Abgal (stesso clan dell’attuale presidente e dell’allora primo ministro Ghedi) e Habar Gedir ostili alla leadership di Dahir Aweys.

Così, da movimento il cui unico obiettivo era limitare l’impatto delle organizzazioni islamiste radicali nate all’inizio degli anni Novanta in Somalia, come Al-Ittihad al-Islami, dopo il 2006, e per volere del governo Ghedi, Ahlu Sunna wal Jama'a diventa principalmente uno strumento governativo prima per opporsi alle Corti Islamiche e agli Shabab, e poi per combattere la leadership Hawiye della resistenza nelle regioni al confine con l’Etiopia del Galguduud e del Mudug. L’attuale attività dell’ASWJ non a caso si è circoscritta all’interno delle regioni di tradizionale appartenenza Hawiye - Habar Gedir, proprio per frenare l’avanzata delle milizie di Shabab e Hizbul Islam, ma soprattutto di quest’ultima, visto che Dahir Aweys sembra ancora oggi essere intenzionato a riappropriarsi delle regioni del suo clan. E proprio in un tentativo del leader di Hizbul Islam di raggiungere il villaggio di Wabho, nel Galguduud, che lo stesso è stato ferito in maniera grave lo scorso giugno proprio dalle milizie di Ahlu Sunna wal Jama'a. In altre parole, sembra che l’agenda di ASWJ, più che filogovernativa, conservi oggi una forte propensione territoriale, la stessa del resto emersa – soprattutto in alcune fasi del conflitto – anche all’interno di Hizbul Islam e di al-Shabab. Nell'ultimo mese si è assistito a due importanti ricambi di leadership nell’opposizione islamista, sia all'interno degli Shabab sia in Hizbul Islam. Abu Mansur "Robow", portavoce dei "giovani" si è dimesso per lasciare il posto a Sheikh Ali “Dhere”, mentre nel Partito Islamico il dottor Omar Iman ha lasciato volontariamente la presidenza a Sheikh Hassan Dahir Aweys. Mentre sembrano piuttosto chiare le motivazioni di quest'ultimo avvicendamento, permangono ancora dubbi sul ricambio avvenuto negli Shabab. A tal proposito è interessante notare che Sheikh Ali “Dhere” – oltre ad essere politicamente molto più "duro" rispetto al suo predecessore – fa parte della famiglia clanica Hawiye (e in particolare Habar Gedir/Ayr), la stessa di Dahir Aweys, e maggioritaria nelle zone dove oggi si sta maggiormente combattendo (Abu Mansur invece è un Digil Mirifleh di Baidoa). È altamente probabile che i "giovani" abbiano voluto cambiar pelle proprio nel momento in cui la guerriglia ha finito per estendersi in piena zona Hawiye (come Beledweyne e Jowhar), oppure - altra ipotesi - che dietro la nomina di Sheikh Ali Dhere ci sia un realtà la longa manus di Aweys, il quale non ha mai nascosto di voler inglobare e/o guidare anche al-Shabab, cosa peraltro impensabile fino a poco tempo fa per la presenza ingombrante di Abu Mansur.

Secondo fonti somale infatti, sembra che le dimissioni di Abu Mansur siano state decise a seguito di una riunione di alcuni leader del gruppo avvenuta a Mogadiscio alla fine dello scorso giugno, in cui erano presenti, oltre che lo stesso ex portavoce, anche Sheikh Fuad Mohamed Qalaf, conosciuto anche come Fuad Shangole, e Sheikh Mukhtar Abu Subeyr, ufficialmente il capo di al-Shabab. Mentre il primo è un Darod del nord, quest’ultimo appartiene alla famiglia clanica Isaaq, maggioritario in Somaliland. È possibile dunque che la convergenza storica di interessi tra gli Isaaq e gli Hawiye - Habar Gedir abbia finito per influire anche nella scelta della destituzione di Abu Mansur. Il suo allontanamento dagli alti quadri di al-Shabab ha determinato da un lato la fusione formale delle milizie di Hizbul Islam con quelle Shabab, e dall’altro il repentino cambiamento delle amministrazioni Shabab nelle regioni del Bay e del Bakool, dove la carica di governatore è oggi tenuta da Sheikh Mahad Omar Abdikarin, clanicamente vicino ad Aweys e al nuovo portavoce Shabab. Tali avvicendamenti hanno certamente radicalizzato l’attività di al-Shabab anche nel Benadir e nelle città costiere di Merca e Brava. Fino ad oggi infatti, i santuari sufi di quelle zone (a differenza di quelli di Chisimaio) erano stati risparmiati dalle demolizioni proprio per volere di Abu Mansur che, essendo un Digil Mirifleh, ha sempre conservato un buon rapporto con l’ambiente clericale sufi e con gli anziani locali. Inoltre, l’ondata di condanne e di arresti avvenuta ultimamente nel Benadir, che la stampa internazionale erroneamente ha spesso etichettato come rispondente ad un’applicazione più rigida della sharia, è molto probabile sia stata funzionale ad evitare un piccolo colpo di stato “Ayr”, dove – tra gli altri – erano implicati anche personaggi vicini allo stesso Yusuf “Indhadde”, il quale aspira tutt’oggi a riappropriarsi delle posizioni perse lo scorso anno per mano degli Shabab. Data la fluidità della situazione, è difficile oggi pensare a cosa accadrà in Somalia nei prossimi mesi. C’è da dire che le istituzioni transitorie, pur conservando l’appoggio di gran parte della comunità internazionale, stanno perdendo costantemente terreno, sia militarmente sia politicamente. L’inclusione all’interno delle forze di sicurezza del GFT di milizie legate a pericolosi warlords infatti, ha gettato nel caos il coordinamento degli apparati di sicurezza del nuovo governo (che tendono a rispondere sempre meno alle istituzioni transitorie e sempre di più ai loro leader clanici), finendo inoltre per incidere negativamente sulla stessa legittimità interna della presidenza di Sheikh Sharif.

L’affannosa ricerca di una “pistola fumante” che possa dimostrare la presenza di al-Qaida in Somalia per ora non ha portato alcun risultato, se non il goffo tentativo di catturare l’attenzione internazionale su una crisi che – nonostante tutto – resta ancora per lo più dimenticata. La continua enfasi data all’eventuale presenza di al-Qaida nel paese ha però determinato un altro risultato; ovvero quello di radicalizzare sempre più l’opposizione islamista, le cui strategie politiche e militari – nonostante il loro forte carattere locale – tendono sempre più a prendere la forma di quelle sperimentate dalla rete globale del terrore, dalle fasi di reclutamento alle attività di guerriglia sul campo. Le vie diplomatiche di soluzione alla crisi hanno risentito – e risentono tutt’ora – della politica americana che verso i gruppi di opposizione, e specialmente gli Shabab. È interessante notare che questo tipo di atteggiamento votato all’”esclusione” è molto simile a quello che fu usato da Washington nei confronti delle Corti Islamiche prima dell’intervento etiopico del dicembre 2006. In quel periodo però, l’unico risultato raggiunto dalla politica statunitense fu di radicalizzare ulteriormente i gruppi esclusi dalle trattative di pace, rendendoli al contempo pedine per attori regionali impegnati esclusivamente a perseguire politiche di destabilizzazione regionale, come è stato – ed è ancora – il caso dell’Eritrea del presidente Isaias Afeworki, impegnata, più che a sostenere la causa somala, a creare focolai di guerriglia contro il suo storico antagonista etiopico. A questo punto, l’unica soluzione in un momento così critico per il paese potrebbe essere quella di trovare meccanismi di riconciliazione locali alla crisi, coinvolgendo gli attori presenti sul campo (dalle amministrazioni locali alle milizie islamiste radicali). In altre parole, più che cercare di porre un freno alla violenza con aiuti a pioggia, economici e militari (come avvenuto a Bruxelles lo scorso aprile), o imponendo processi di riconciliazione a livello nazionale costruendo una legittimità “internazionalmente riconosciuta” ma localmente inconsistente, bisognerebbe identificare e valorizzare quegli attori davvero influenti sul territorio. In tutto questo l’Unione Europea, e in particolare l’Italia – a differenza del partner statunitense e delle deboli organizzazioni regionali come UA e IGAD – può far molto, grazie anche al basso profilo mantenuto fino ad oggi rispetto alla crisi, il quale ha finito per preservarla dal pericolo di screditamento agli occhi delle fazioni somale in campo, islamiste e non. Insomma, iniziare a considerare l’opposizione islamista radicale per quella che è, ovvero alla luce di dinamiche interne al contesto somalo, potrebbe essere un inizio.

Autore: Matteo Guglielmo

Fonte: http://www.limesonline.it/

Somalia, le speranze stanno svanendo

Wirepullers: sedici anni dopo Restore Hope, l'operazione militare americana che risultò in un fallimento totale, la Somalia è sempre più in caduta libera, verso il caos e l'ingovernabilità. Non solo pirati, che di romantico hanno ben poco, ma clan religiosi, tribalismo e signori della guerra: questa sono i veri protagonisti della spirale di distruzione che ha investito il corno d'Africa. In una regione dove le guerre civili possono trasmettersi ai paesi vicini come un'influenza, data l'instabilità cronica di questa zona dell'Africa, è urgente trovare una soluzione rapida e durevole, oltre che giusta. Affinchè ciò che si racconta oggi della Somalia, non lo si debba raccontare domani con riferimento a tutto il continente nero. (1)

La situazione di grave pericolo in cui versa la Somalia è stata rimarcata un paio di settimane fa dall'assassinio del Ministro per la Sicurezza Omar Hashi Aden. Siamo al punto che notizie come queste non riescono neanche ad aumentare il livello di disperazione del paese. Durante la conferenza stampa con il leader libico Muammar Gheddafi del mese scorso, il presidente del Consiglio italiano, Silvio Berlusconi, ha chiesto azioni forti e immediate nel Corno d’Africa. Se si volesse seriamente dare seguito a questi propositi si dovrebbe cominciare dalla Somalia.

Rischio escalation

La crescente violenza nella Somalia del sud e in particolare nella capitale Mogadiscio, anch'essa profondamente segnata dal conflitto, rischia di mettere a repentaglio i pur modesti risultati politici faticosamente raggiunti a partire dallo scorso dicembre. Se non saranno adottati provvedimenti condivisi e urgenti che possano porre fine alle violenze, la probabilità che il paese scivoli in un vero e proprio conflitto civile è alta. C'è il rischio che il numero di rifugiati somali, così come l’estremismo violento in uscita dalla Somalia, crescano ancora.

La dimensione e la ferocia dei nuovi scontri tra il governo transitorio e le fazioni islamiste più estreme che vi si oppongono non ha precedenti, neanche per gli standard somali. Più di 200.000 civili sono sfollati a causa dei combattimenti a Mogadiscio e dintorni, in centinaia sono stati uccisi e migliaia risultano feriti. I combattimenti si sono estesi a zone che non erano state sfiorate dalla violenza neanche nei peggiori momenti degli scontri degli ultimi tre anni, fino ad arrivare a regioni centrali tradizionalmente meno violente, come l’Hiiran e Galguduud, diventate teatro di aspri scontri tra le truppe pro-governative del movimento di Ahl al-Sunnah wal Jama’ah e gli estremisti di Al-Shabaab.

L’enorme ondata di profughi civili, particolarmente massiccia a Mogadiscio, sta aggravando la terribile crisi umanitaria. Ne ha fortemente risentito la capacità di operare delle agenzie di aiuto: è il prevedibile risultato di una politica contraddistinta da una serie di passi falsi e opportunità mancate.

Gli ultimi sei mesi hanno offerto alla Somalia la rara possibilità di ri-orientare ed espandere il processo di pace, e raggiungere un accordo di pacificazione politica che fosse duraturo. Una serie di sviluppi politici e militari favorevoli, avvenuti in rapida successione, hanno rappresentato una novità che sembrava offrire un margine di speranza per il futuro.

Una riconciliazione subito abortita

Lo scorso dicembre, il Presidente del governo transitorio, già fortemente impopolare, subiva delle forti pressioni a lasciare il proprio incarico. L’Etiopia calava il sipario sull’intervento militare, durato due anni e fin dall’inizio destinato al fallimento, che ha contribuito all’ulteriore radicalizzazione del paese e ad aumentare il sostegno per gruppi militari islamici come Al-Shabaab. Il processo di pace di Gibuti culminava in un pacifico accordo tra il governo transitorio e la fazione dell’Alleanza per la ri-liberazione della Somalia guidata dallo sceicco Sharif Sheikh Ahmed. Successivamente, una sessione comune ed allargata del Parlamento, lo acclamava presidente. La speranza era che la sua connotazione di islamico lo avrebbe aiutato a riconciliarsi con i suoi ex compagni di militanza che si erano opposti alla conferenza di Gibuti. Tra le sue prime mosse figuravano il trasferimento a Mogadiscio e l'avvio di trattative sotterranee con i più potenti leader insurrezionali, grazie all’intercessione di personalità di spicco di varie comunità locali e a un gruppo di capi islamici provenienti dal Golfo.

Adesso però è chiaro che Sharif ha iniziato tale dialogo con scarsi mezzi e senza la necessaria preparazione. Anzitutto, ha sottovalutato la forte antipatia personale e la diffidenza che suscitava presso i suoi ex-compagni di militanza, da cui veniva considerato un traditore. In secondo luogo, Sharif non aveva in realtà molto da offrire in vista di un accordo, e anche dal punto di vista militare la sua posizione era debole. Alle fazioni militanti, che grazie a una serie di vittorie militari già controllavano indisturbate vaste aree della Somalia centrale e del sud, non veniva offerto alcun incentivo al compromesso (le truppe etiopi si erano già ritirate per decisione autonoma).

In ultimo, Sharif stava operando al buio in assenza di un consenso internazionale a un processo di pace inclusivo anche nei confronti delle frange militanti. Mentre alcuni governi sostenevano questa prospettiva, altri preferivano impegnarsi in maniera più selettiva. Lo stesso inviato dell'Onu, Ahmedou Ould-Abdallah, è apparso titubante sulla strategia da adottare.

Le esitazioni della comunità internazionale

I contatti con il leader miliziano Hassan Dahir Aweys sono stati particolarmente danneggiati da tali ambiguità. Oltre alla vaga promessa che il governo transitorio e i governi arabi avrebbero insistito per rimuovere il suo nome dalle liste americane dei finanziatori terroristi esteri, nient’altro è stato offerto ad Aweys. Era dunque inevitabile che questi avrebbe visto nella sbandierata strategia di riconciliazione solo un modo per ottenere a basso prezzo il suo appoggio al governo transitorio. Non c’è da meravigliarsi che Aweys si sia alla fine dimostrato solo un “guastatore”.

Considerata la gravità e la complessità della crisi somala, è normale che la comunità internazionale continui a rimanere perplessa. Nonostante ciò, non agire sarebbe comunque imperdonabile e fortemente irresponsabile, data la piega assunta dalla crisi. Oggi, la comunità internazionale ha bisogno di rinvigorire il processo di pace per cercare di far breccia nelle fila dei militanti, offrendo un accordo che possa conquistarne il favore. Un primo passo sarebbe la ripresa del dialogo tra il governo transitorio e le milizie in una località neutrale. Si tratta innanzitutto di discutere i termini per un cessate il fuoco che garantisca incolumità ai civili e la sicurezza dei corridoi per gli aiuti umanitari.

Azioni ritardate o inadeguate potrebbero favorire l’aggravarsi della situazione somala, la crescita del numero dei militanti estremisti e minacciare anche altri paesi oltre a quelli del Corno d’Africa. Opzioni, dunque, da non prendere in considerazione.

Autori: Daniela Kroslak, Andrew Stroehlein

Fonte: www.affarinternazionali.it

Why We Don’t Condemn Our Pirates

Wirepullers: per molti somali, quelli che noi chiamiamo pirati sono dei guardiacoste. Proteggono il loro mare dallo scarico di scorie da parte di imprese che lavorano nello smaltimento dei rifiuti tossici. Povertà, assenza dello stato, difesa del proprio mare: quando l'illegalità è l'ultima risorsa per sopravvivere. L'articolo di K'Naan, rapper e poeta somalo-canadese.

Can anyone ever really be for piracy? Outside of sea bandits, and young girls fantasizing of Johnny Depp, would anyone with an honest regard for good human conduct really say that they are in support of Sea Robbery? Well in Somalia, the answer is: it's complicated. The news media these days has been covering piracy in the Somali coast, with such lop-sided journalism, that it's lucky they're not on a ship themselves. It's true that the constant hijacking of vessels in the Gulf of Aden is a major threat to the vibrant trade rouet between Asia and Europe. It is also true that for most of the pirates operating in this vast shoreline, money is the primary objective. But according to so many Somalis, the disruption of Europe's darling of a trade rout, is just Karmabiting a perpetrator in the butt. And if you don't believe in Karma,maybe you believe in recent history. Here is why we Somalis find ourselves slightly shy of condemning our pirates. Somalia has been without any form of a functioning governmentsince 1991. And although its failures, like many other toddler governments in Africa, sprung from the wells of post colonialindependence, bad governance and development loan sharks,the specific problem of piracy was put in motion in 1992. Afterthe overthrow of Siyad Barre, our charmless dictator of twenty some odd years, two major forces of the Hawiye Clan came topower. At the time, Ali Mahdi, and General Mohamed Farah Aidid, the two leaders of the Hawiye rebels were largely considered liberators. But the unity of the two men and their respective sub-clans was very short-lived. It's as if they were dumbstruck at the advent of ousting thedictator, or that they just forgot to discuss who will be the leader of thecountry once they defeated their common foe. A disagreementof who will upgrade from militia leader to Mr. President broke uptheir honeymoon. It's because of this disagreement that we've seen oneof the most decomposing wars in Somalia's history, leading to millionsdisplaced and hundreds of thousands dead. But war is expensive and militias need food for their families, and Jaad (an amphetamine-based stimulant) to stay awake for the fighting. Therefore a good clan based Warlord must look out for his own fighters. Aidid's men turned to robbing Aid trucks carrying food to the starving masses, and reselling it to continue their war. But Ali Mahdi had his sights set on a larger and more unexploited resource, namely: the Indian Ocean. Already by this time, local fishermen in the coastline of Somaliahave been complaining of illegal vessels coming to Somaliwaters and stealing all the fish. And since there was no government toreport it to, and since the severity of the violence clumsily overshadowedevery other problem, the fishermen went completely unheard. But itwas around this same time that a more sinister, a more patronizing practicewas being put in motion. A Swiss firm called Achair Parterns, and an Italian waste company called Progresso, made a deal with Ali Mahdi, that they were to dump containers of waste material in Somali waters. These European companies were said to be paying Warlords about $3 a ton, where asin to properly dispose of waste in Europe costs about $1000 a ton. In 2004, after Tsunami washed ashore several leaking containers, thousand of locals in the Puntland region of Somalia started to complain of severe and previously unreported ailments, such as abdominal bleeding, skin melting off and a lot of immediate cancer-like symptoms. Nick Nuttall, a spokesman for the United Nations Environmental Program, says that the containers had many different kinds of waste, including "Uranium, radioactive waste, lead, cadmium, mercury and chemical waste." But this wasn't just a passing evil from one or two groups taking advantage of our unprotected waters, the UN Convoy for Somalia, Ahmedou Ould-Abdallah, says that the practice still continues to this day. It was months after those initial reports that local fishermen mobilized themselves, along with street militias, to go into the waters and deter the Westerners from having a free pass at completely destroying Somalia's aquatic life. Now years later, the deterring has become less noble, and the ex-fishermen with their militias have begun to develop a taste for ransom at sea. This form of piracy is now a major contributor to the Somali economy, especially in the very region that private toxic waste companies first began to burry our nation's death trap. Now Somalia has upped the world's pirate attacks by over21 percent in one year, and while NATO and the EU are both sending forces to the Somali coast to try and slow down the attacks, Black Water and all kinds of private security firms are intent on cashing in. But while Europeans are well in their right to protect their trade interest in the region, our pirates were the only deterrent we had from an externally imposed environmental disaster. No one can say for sure that some of the ships they are now holding for ransom were not involved in illegal activity in our waters. The truth is, if you ask any Somali, if getting rid of the pirates only means the continuous rape of our coast by unmonitored Western Vessels, and the producing of a new cancerous generation, we would all fly our pirate flags high. It is time that the world gave the Somali people some assurance that these Western illegal activities will end, if our pirates are to seize their operations. We do not want the EU and NATO serving as a shield for these nuclear waste-dumping hoodlums. It seems to me that this new modern crises, is truly a question of justice, but also a question of who's justice. As is apparent these days, one man's pirate, is another man's coast guard.

Autore: K'Naan

Fonte: www.urb.com

Illustrazione di Emad Hajjaj

The Most Dangerous Place in the World (2)

Seconda parte dell'articolo sulla Somalia.

By 2005, the CIA saw what was happening, and again misread the cues. This ended up being Strike Two.
In a post-September 11 world, Somalia had become a major terrorism worry. The fear was that Somalia could blossom into a jihad factory like Afghanistan, where al Qaeda in the 1990s plotted its global war on the West. It didn’t seem to matter that at this point there was scant evidence to justify this fear. Some Western military analysts told policymakers that Somalia was too chaotic for even al Qaeda, because it was impossible for anyone—including terrorists—to know whom to trust. Nonetheless, the administration of George W. Bush devised a strategy to stamp out the Islamists on the cheap. CIA agents deputized the warlords, the same thugs who had been preying upon Somalia’s population for years, to fight the Islamists. According to one Somali warlord I spoke with in March 2008, an American agent named James and another one named David showed up in Mogadishu with briefcases stuffed with cash. Use this to buy guns, the agents said. Drop us an e-mail if you have any questions. The warlord showed me the address: no_email_today@yahoo.com.

The plan backfired. Somalis like to talk; the country, ironically, has some of the best and cheapest cellular phone service in Africa. Word quickly spread that the same warlords no one liked anymore were now doing the Americans’ bidding, which just made the Islamists even more popular. By June 2006, the Islamists had run the last warlords out of Mogadishu. Then something unbelievable happened: The Islamists seemed to tame the place.

I saw it with my own eyes. I flew into Mogadishu in September 2006 and saw work crews picking up trash and kids swimming at the beach. For the first time in years, no gunshots rang out at night. Under the banner of Islam, the Islamists had united rival clans and disarmed much of the populace, with clan support of course. They even cracked down on piracy by using their clan connections to dissuade coastal towns from supporting the pirates. When that didn’t work, the Islamists stormed hijacked ships. According to the International Maritime Bureau in London, there were 10 pirate attacks off Somalia’s coast in 2006, which is tied for the lowest number of attacks this decade.

The Islamists’ brief reign of peace was to be the only six months of calm Somalia has tasted since 1991. But it was one thing to rally together to overthrow the warlords and another to decide what to do next. A rift quickly opened between the moderate Islamists and the extremists, who were bent on waging jihad. One of the most radical factions has been the Shabab, a multiclan military wing with a strict Wahhabi interpretation of Islam. The Shabab drove around Mogadishu in big, black pickup trucks and beat women whose ankles were showing. Even the other Islamist gunmen were scared of them. By December 2006, some of the population began to chafe against the Shabab for taking away their beloved khat, the mildly stimulating leaf that Somalis chew like bubble gum. Shabab leaders were widely rumored to be working with foreign jihadists, including wanted al Qaeda terrorists, and the U.S. State Department later designated the Shabab a terrorist organization. American officials have said that the Shabab are sheltering men who masterminded the bombings of the U.S. embassies in Kenya and Tanzania in 1998.

Somalia may indeed have sheltered a few unsavory characters, but the country was far from the terrorist hotbed many worry it has now become. In 2006, there was a narrow window of opportunity to peel off the moderate Islamists from the likes of the Shabab, and some U.S. officials, such as Democratic Rep. Donald M. Payne, the chairman of the House subcommittee on Africa, were trying to do exactly that. Payne and others met with the moderate Islamists and encouraged them to negotiate a power-sharing deal with the transitional government.

But the Bush administration again reached for the gunpowder. The United States would not do much of the fighting itself, since sending large numbers of ground troops into Somalia with Iraq and Afghanistan raging would have been deemed insane. Instead, the United States anointed a proxy: the Ethiopian Army. This move would be Strike Three.

Ethiopia is one of the United States’ best friends in Africa, its government having carefully cultivated an image as a Christian bulwark in a region seething with Islamist extremism. The Ethiopian leadership savvily told the Bush administration what it wanted to hear: The Islamists were terrorists and, unchecked, they would threaten the entire region and maybe even attack American safari-goers in Kenya next door.

Of course, the Ethiopians had their own agenda. Ethiopia is a country with a mostly Christian leadership but a population that is nearly half Muslim. It seems only a matter of time before there is an Islamic awakening in Ethiopia. On top of that, the Ethiopian government is fighting several rebel groups, including a powerful one that is ethnically Somali. The government feared that an Islamist Somalia could become a rebel beachhead next door. The Ethiopians were also scared that Somalia’s Islamists would team up with Eritrea, Ethiopia’s archenemy, which is exactly what ended up happening.

Not everyone in Washington swallowed the Ethiopian line. The country has a horrendous human rights record, and the Ethiopian military (which receives aid for human rights training from the United States) is widely accused of brutalizing its own people. But in December 2006, the Bush administration shared prized intelligence with the Ethiopians and gave them the green light to invade Somalia. Thousands of Ethiopian troops rolled across the border (many had secretly been in the country for months), and they routed the Islamist troops within a week. There were even some U.S. Special Forces with the Ethiopian units. The United States also launched several airstrikes in an attempt to take out Islamist leaders, and it continued with intermittent cruise missiles targeting suspected terrorists. Most have failed, killing civilians and adding to the boiling anti-American sentiment.

The Islamists went underground, and the transitional government arrived in Mogadishu. There was some cheering, a lot of jeering, and the insurgency revved up within days. The transitional government was widely reviled as a coterie of ex-warlords, which it mostly was. It was the 14th attempt since 1991 to stand up a central government. None of the previous attempts had worked. True, some detractors have simply been war profiteers hell-bent on derailing any government. But a lot of blame falls on what this transitional government has done—or not done. From the start, leaders seemed much more interested in who got what post than living up to the corresponding job descriptions. The government quickly lost the support of key clans in Mogadishu by its harsh (and unsuccessful) tactics in trying to wipe out the insurgents, and by its reliance on Ethiopian troops. Ethiopia and Somalia have fought several wars against each other over the contested Ogaden region that Ethiopia now claims. That region is mostly ethnically Somali, so teaming up with Ethiopia was seen as tantamount to treason.

The Islamists tapped into this sentiment, positioning themselves as the true Somali nationalists, and gaining widespread support again. The results were intense street battles between Islamist insurgents and Ethiopian troops in which thousands of civilians have been killed. Ethiopian forces have indiscriminately shelled entire neighborhoods (which precipitated a European Union investigation into war crimes), and have even used white phosphorous bombs that literally melt people, according to the United Nations. Hundreds of thousands of people have emptied out of Mogadishu and settled in camps that have become breeding grounds for disease and resentment. Death comes more frequently and randomly than ever before. I met one man in Mogadishu who was chatting with his wife on her cellphone when she was cut in half by a stray mortar shell. Another man I spoke to went out for a walk, got shot in the leg during a crossfire, and had to spend seven days eating grass before the fighting ended and he could crawl away.

It’s incredibly dangerous for us journalists, too. Few foreign journalists travel to Somalia anymore. Kidnapping is the threat du jour. Friends of mine who work for the United Nations in Kenya told me I had about a 100 percent chance of being stuffed into the back of a Toyota or shot (or both) if I didn’t hire a private militia. Nowadays, as soon as I land, I take 10 gunmen under my employ.

By late January, the only territory the transitional government controlled was a shrinking federal enclave in Mogadishu guarded by a small contingent of African Union peacekeepers. As soon as the Ethiopians pulled out of the capital, vicious fighting broke out between the various Islamist factions scrambling to fill the power gap. It took only days for the Islamists to recapture the third-largest town, Baidoa, from the government and install sharia law. The Shabab are not wildly popular, but they are formidable; for the time being they have a motivated, disciplined militia with hundreds of hard-core fighters and probably thousands of gunmen allied with them. The violence has shown no signs of halting, even with the election of a new, moderate Islamist president—one who had, ironically, been a leader of the Islamic Courts Union in 2006.

If the Shabab do seize control of the country, they might not stop there. They could send their battle-hardened fighters in battered four-wheel-drive pickup trucks into Ethiopia, Kenya, and maybe even Djibouti to try to snatch back the Somali-speaking parts of those countries. This scenario has long been part of an ethereal pan-Somali dream. Pursuit of that goal would internationalize the conflict and surely drag in neighboring countries and their allies.

The Shabab could also wage an asymmetric war, unleashing terrorists on Somalia’s secular neighbors and their secular backers—most prominently, the United States. This would upend an already combustible dynamic in the Horn of Africa, catalyzing other conflicts. For instance, Ethiopia and Eritrea fought a nasty border war in the late 1990s, which killed as many as 100,000 people, and both countries are still heavily militarized along the border. If the Shabab, which boasts Eritrean support, took over Somalia, we might indeed see round two of Ethiopia versus Eritrea. The worst-case scenario could mean millions of people displaced across the entire region, crippled food production, and violence-induced breaches in the aid pipeline. In short, a famine in one of the most perennially needy parts of the world—again.

The hardest challenge of all might be simply preventing the worst-case scenario. Among the best suggestions I’ve heard is to play to Somalia’s strengths as a fluid, decentralized society with local mechanisms to resolve conflicts. The foundation of order would be clan-based governments in villages, towns, and neighborhoods. These tiny fiefdoms could stack together to form district and regional governments. The last step would be uniting the regional governments in a loose national federation that coordinated, say, currency issues or antipiracy efforts, but did not sideline local leaders.

Western powers should do whatever they can to bring moderate Islamists into the transitional government while the transitional government still exists. Whether people like it or not, many Somalis see Islamic law as the answer. Maybe they’re not fond of the harsh form imposed by the Shabab, who have, on at least one occasion, stoned to death a teenage girl who had been raped (an Islamic court found her guilty of adultery). Still, there is an appetite for a certain degree of Islamic governance. That desire should not be confused with support for terrorism.
A more radical idea is to have the United Nations take over the government and administer Somalia with an East Timor-style mandate. Because Somalia has already been an independent country, this option might be too much for Somalis to stomach. To make it work, the United Nations would need to delegate authority to clan leaders who have measurable clout on the ground. Either way, the diplomats should be working with the moneylords more and the warlords less.

But the problem with Somalia is that after 18 years of chaos, with so many people killed, with so many gun-toting men rising up and then getting cut down, it is exceedingly difficult to identify who the country’s real leaders are, if they exist at all. It’s not just Mogadishu’s wasteland of blown-up buildings that must be reconstructed; it’s the entire national psyche. The whole country is suffering from an acute case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Somalis will have to move beyond the narrow interests of clans, where they have withdrawn for protection, and embrace the idea of a Somali nation.

If that happens, the work will just be beginning. Nearly an entire generation of Somalis has absolutely no idea what a government is or how it functions. I’ve seen this glassy-eyed generation all across the country, lounging on bullet-pocked street corners and spaced out in the back of pickup trucks, Kalashnikovs in their hands and nowhere to go. To them, law and order are thoroughly abstract concepts. To them, the only law in the land is the business end of a machine gun.

Autore: Jeffrey Gettleman

Fonte: www.foreignpolicy.com

The Most Dangerous Place in the World

Wirepullers: postiamo la prima parte di un interessante articolo di Jeffrey Gettleman sulla Somalia e sui motivi per cui è diventata "il posto più pericoloso del mondo". Alle radici del disastro di un paese, che fa notizia solamente per "merito" di normali pescatori che decidono di diventare pirati.

Somalia is a state governed only by anarchy. A graveyard of foreign-policy failures, it has known just six months of peace in the past two decades. Now, as the country’s endless chaos threatens to engulf an entire region, the world again simply watches it burn.

When you land at Mogadishu’s international airport, the first form you fill out asks for name, address, and caliber of weapon. Believe it or not, this disaster of a city, the capital of Somalia, still gets a few commercial flights. Some haven’t fared so well. The wreckage of a Russian cargo plane shot down in 2007 still lies crumpled at the end of the runway.

Beyond the airport is one of the world’s most stunning monuments to conflict: block after block, mile after mile, of scorched, gutted-out buildings. Mogadishu’s Italianate architecture, once a gem along the Indian Ocean, has been reduced to a pile of machine-gun-chewed bricks. Somalia has been ripped apart by violence since the central government imploded in 1991. Eighteen years and 14 failed attempts at a government later, the killing goes on and on and on—suicide bombs, white phosphorus bombs, beheadings, medieval-style stonings, teenage troops high on the local drug called khat blasting away at each other and anything in between. Even U.S. cruise missiles occasionally slam down from the sky. It’s the same violent free-for-all on the seas. Somalia’s pirates are threatening to choke off one of the most strategic waterways in the world, the Gulf of Aden, which 20,000 ships pass through every year. These heavily armed buccaneers hijacked more than 40 vessels in 2008, netting as much as $100 million in ransom. It’s the greatest piracy epidemic of modern times.

In more than a dozen trips to Somalia over the past two and a half years, I’ve come to rewrite my own definition of chaos. I’ve felt the incandescent fury of the Iraqi insurgency raging in Fallujah. I’ve spent freezing-cold, eerily quiet nights in an Afghan cave. But nowhere was I more afraid than in today’s Somalia, where you can get kidnapped or shot in the head faster than you can wipe the sweat off your brow. From the thick, ambush-perfect swamps around Kismayo in the south to the lethal labyrinth of Mogadishu to the pirate den of Boosaaso on the Gulf of Aden, Somalia is quite simply the most dangerous place in the world.

The whole country has become a breeding ground for warlords, pirates, kidnappers, bomb makers, fanatical Islamist insurgents, freelance gunmen, and idle, angry youth with no education and way too many bullets. There is no Green Zone here, by the way—no fortified place of last resort to run to if, God forbid, you get hurt or in trouble. In Somalia, you’re on your own. The local hospitals barely have enough gauze to treat all the wounds.

The mayhem is now spilling across Somalia’s borders, stirring up tensions and violence in Kenya, Ethiopia, and Eritrea, not to mention Somalia’s pirate-infested seas. The export of trouble may just be beginning. Islamist insurgents with al Qaeda connections are sweeping across the country, turning Somalia into an Afghanistan-like magnet for militant Islam and drawing in hard-core fighters from around the world. These men will eventually go home (if they survive) and spread the killer ethos. Somalia’s transitional government, a U.N.-santioned creation that was deathly ill from the moment it was born four years ago, is about to flatline, perhaps spawning yet another doomed international rescue mission. Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed, the old war horse of a president backed by the United States, finally resigned in December after a long, bitter dispute with the prime minister, Nur Hassan Hussein. Ostensibly, their conflict was about a peace deal with the Islamists and a few cabinet posts. In truth, it may be purely academic. By early this year, the government’s zone of control was down to a couple of city blocks. The country is nearly as big as Texas.

Just when things seem as though they can’t get any worse in Somalia, they do. Beyond the political crisis, all the elements for a full-blown famine—war, displacement, drought, skyrocketing food prices, and an exodus of aid workers—are lining up again, just as they did in the early 1990s when hundreds of thousands of Somalis starved to death. Last May, I stood in the doorway of a hut in the bone-dry central part of the country watching a sick little boy curl up next to his dying mother. Her clothes were damp. Her breaths were shallow. She hadn’t eaten for days. “She will most likely die,’’ an elder told me and walked away.

It’s crunch time for Somalia, but the world is like me, standing in the doorway, looking in at two decades of unbridled anarchy, unsure what to do. Past interventions have been so cursed that no one wants to get burned again. The United States has been among the worst of the meddlers: U.S. forces fought predacious warlords at the wrong time, backed some of the same predacious warlords at the wrong time, and consistently failed to appreciate the twin pulls of clan and religion. As a result, Somalia has become a graveyard of foreign-policy blunders that have radicalized the population, deepened insecurity, and pushed millions to the brink of starvation.

Somalia is a political paradox—unified on the surface, poisonously divided beneath. It is one of the world’s most homogeneous nation-states, with nearly all of its estimated 9 to 10 million people sharing the same language (Somali), the same religion (Sunni Islam), the same culture, and the same ethnicity. But in Somalia, it’s all about clan. Somalis divide themselves into a dizzying number of clans, subclans, sub-subclans, and so on, with shifting allegiances and knotty backstories that have bedeviled outsiders for years.

At the end of the 19th century, the Italians and the British divvied up most of Somalia, but their efforts to impose Western laws never really worked. Disputes tended to be resolved by clan elders. Deterrence was key: “Kill me and you will suffer the wrath of my entire clan.” The places where the local ways were disturbed the least, such as British-ruled Somaliland, seem to have done better in the long run than those where the Italian colonial administration supplanted the role of clan elders, as in Mogadishu.

Somalia won independence in 1960, but it quickly became a Cold War pawn, prized for its strategic location in the Horn of Africa, where Africa and Asia nearly touch. First it was the Soviets who pumped in weapons, then the United States. A poor, mostly illiterate, mainly nomadic country became a towering ammunition dump primed to explode. The central government was hardly able to hold the place together. Even in the 1980s, Maj. Gen. Mohamed Siad Barre, the capricious dictator who ruled from 1969 to 1991, was derisively referred to as “the mayor of Mogadishu” because so much of the country had already spun out of his control.
When clan warlords finally ousted him in 1991, it wasn’t much of a surprise what happened next. The warlords unleashed all that military-grade weaponry on each other, and every port, airstrip, fishing pier, telephone pole—anything that could turn a profit—was fought over. People were killed for a few pennies. Women were raped with impunity. The chaos gave rise to a new class of parasitic war profiteers—gunrunners, drug smugglers, importers of expired (and often sickening) baby formula—people with a vested interest in the chaos continuing. Somalia became the modern world’s closest approximation of Hobbes’s state of nature, where life was indeed nasty, brutish, and short. To call it even a failed state was generous. The Democratic Republic of the Congo is a failed state. So is Zimbabwe. But those places at least have national armies and national bureaucracies, however corrupt. Since 1991, Somalia has not been a state so much as a lawless, ungoverned space on the map between its neighbors and the sea.

In 1992, U.S. President George H.W. Bush tried to help, sending in thousands of Marines to protect shipments of food. It was the beginning of the post-Cold War “new world order,” when many believed that the United States, without a rival superpower, could steer world events in a new and morally righteous way. Somalia proved to be a very bad start. President Bush and his advisors misread the clan landscape and didn’t understand how fiercely loyal Somalis could be to their clan leaders. Somali society often divides and subdivides when faced with internal disputes, but it quickly bands together when confronted by an external enemy. The United States learned this the hard way when its forces tried to apprehend the warlord of the day, Mohammed Farah Aidid. The result was the infamous “Black Hawk Down” episode in October 1993. Thousands of Somali militiamen poured into the streets, carrying rocket-propelled grenades and wearing flip-flops. They shot down two American Black Hawk helicopters, killing 18 U.S. soldiers and dragging the corpses triumphantly through the streets. This would be Strike One for the United States in Somalia.

Humiliated, the Americans pulled out and Somalia was left to its own dystopian devices. For the next decade, the Western world mostly stayed away. But Arab organizations, many from Saudi Arabia and followers of the strict Wahhabi branch of Sunni Islam, quietly stepped in. They built mosques, Koranic schools, and social service organizations, encouraging an Islamic revival. By the early 2000s, Mogadishu’s clan elders set up a loose network of neighborhood-based courts to deliver a modicum of order in a city desperate for it. They rounded up thieves and killers, put them in iron cages, and held trials. Islamic law, or sharia, was the one set of principles that different clans could agree on; the Somali elders called their network the Islamic Courts Union.
Mogadishu’s business community spotted an opportunity. In Mogadishu, there are warlords and moneylords. While the warlords were ripping the country apart, the moneylords, Somalia’s big-business owners, were holding the place together, delivering many of the same services—for a tidy profit, of course—that a government usually provides, such as healthcare, schools, power plants, and even privatized mail. The moneylords went as far as helping to regulate Somalia’s monetary policy, and the Somali shilling was more stable in the 1990s—without a functioning central bank—than in the 1980s when there was a government. But with their profits came very high risks, such as chronic insecurity and extortion. The Islamists were a solution. They provided security without taxes, administration without a government. The moneylords began buying them guns.

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