The diplomatic earthquake triggered by Israel’s recognition of Somaliland in December 2025 has produced dangerous aftershocks, revealing fault lines far deeper than a dispute over sovereignty. The reaction from Somalia’s government in Mogadishu, characterized by inflammatory rhetoric and military posturing, has laid bare a profound and enduring enmity toward the people of Somaliland. More alarmingly, specific pronouncements by senior Somalia officials have chillingly evoked the language and logic of the 1988-1991 Isaaq genocide, suggesting not a political rivalry but a potential pattern of repetition that demands urgent international scrutiny. This analysis argues that Somalia’s response has crossed from diplomatic objection into the realm of public incitement. By reactivating the collective trauma of a past atrocity and leveraging modern geopolitical tensions, Mogadishu’s actions suggest an intent to suppress Somaliland’s sovereignty through a campaign of intimidation that risks spiraling into wider conflict.
To understand the gravity of current statements, one must first confront the historical trauma that defines Somaliland’s national consciousness. The military dictatorship of Siad Barre launched a systematic campaign of genocide against the Isaaq clan, the predominant group in Somaliland. This was a coordinated effort of aerial bombardment, scorched-earth tactics, and mass killings that resulted in an estimated 200,000 deaths and the near-total destruction of cities like Hargeisa and Burao—a period the Lemkin Institute notes “remains forgotten, uninvestigated, and unpunished.” The collective memory of this atrocity is the bedrock of Somaliland’s claim to independence—a secession born of survival from a state-sponsored campaign of annihilation. This unaddressed crime ensures that any threat from Mogadishu is heard not as political hyperbole, but as a potential echo of existential violence.
Tragically, the current rhetoric from Somalia’s leadership mirrors the grim precursors to that very violence. Where the historical genocide began with the aerial bombardment of civilian centers, today’s threats are voiced by Somalia’s own Defense Minister, who has publicly called for foreign allies to “carry out an attack on Somaliland.” The state-led campaign that once targeted the Isaaq population finds a modern parallel in official propaganda framing Somaliland as a “Zionist crusader project” and its leaders as “apostate puppets”—a narrative eagerly adopted by the militant group Al-Shabaab. Furthermore, officials and media aligned with Mogadishu actively stigmatize Somalilanders as “separatists” and “traitors,” language identified by genocide prevention institutes as a direct risk.
This rhetoric escalates beyond dehumanization to the explicit incitement of direct violence. This dangerous pattern is exemplified by senior figures within the Somalia government, most notably a District Commissioner in Mogadishu who publicly urged civilians to wield “machetes” against political dissenters—a call to brutal, extrajudicial violence that the federal government has conspicuously and disgracefully failed to condemn. For the people of Somaliland, such language is not heard as political hyperbole but decoded through the prism of historical trauma. They interpret it as a direct and literal threat of renewed genocide, a chillingly plausible escalation rooted in the lived experience of a past campaign of annihilation, not a metaphorical warning.
Under international law, this pattern of speech constitutes a grave danger. The 1948 Genocide Convention establishes “direct and public incitement to commit genocide” as a standalone, prosecutable crime, known as an inchoate offense, meaning action can be taken to prevent violence before it occurs. Applying this legal test is revealing: the “direct” element is met by clear calls to action like demanding foreign bombardment; the “public” criterion is satisfied when such incitement comes from government ministers. The most crucial element—the “intent to destroy” (mens rea) can be inferred from a persistent pattern of dehumanizing rhetoric and calls for violent elimination, especially against the backdrop of an unpunished past genocide. While establishing genocidal intent in court requires deep investigation, the current rhetoric builds a strong prima facie case and must be treated as the early warning sign of mass atrocity the Genocide Convention was designed to heed.
Israel’s recognition has acted as a catalyst, exposing and intensifying this deep-seated enmity. For Somalia, the move is perceived as a profound humiliation and a strategic threat, triggering a desperate counter-offensive that leverages alliances with Turkey and stages provocative political visits. In response, Somaliland has projected calibrated deterrence, such as the graduation of 6,000 troops and a warning of an “unforgettable response” to any aggression, projecting a confidence backed by new international partnerships.
In conclusion, Somalia’s reaction has revealed an enmity that is historical, visceral, and now dangerously amplified by geopolitics. The rhetoric employed is not merely reckless diplomacy; it reactivates the trauma of genocide and deploys language international law recognizes as a precursor to mass violence. By failing to condemn its own officials’ calls for violence, the Somalia government risks normalizing a discourse of extermination. The path forward is perilously narrow.
The international community, particularly actors like Turkey with influence in Mogadishu, must recognize that financing and arming a government engaged in such rhetoric makes them complicit in escalating risks. The focus must shift from fueling proxy rivalries to enforcing accountability for incendiary speech. Somalia is urged to accept the reality on the ground and refrain from weaponizing historical grievances. No amount of threat, intimidation, or calls for foreign powers to bombard will stop Somaliland from pursuing its sovereignty and seeking international recognition. The world has a responsibility, born from the failures in Rwanda and the Holocaust, to not “watch from a distance” when the language of genocide re-emerges. The enmity is laid bare; the question now is whether the international architecture built to prevent repetition will be activated before it is once again too late.
By: Said W. Hersi
Researcher and Expert in Strategic Leadership, Organizational Transformation and Human Capital Development
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