By A. M. Yusuf
No peace caravan leads to Mogadishu. For more than thirty years, Somalia’s capital has been the gravitational centre of conflict, trauma, and political paralysis. It remains the symbolic heart of the nation, but it is also a city burdened by scars so deep that they have become structural. A country cannot heal while its political centre remains trapped in perpetual crisis. And a nation cannot meaningfully reconcile if its capital is a source of division rather than unity.
Somalia’s ailing patient, our collective Maan-deeq, the she-camel whose health represents the wellbeing of the entire nation, needs a recovery ward far from the danger zones of conflict and fragmentation. Mogadishu deserves rehabilitation, not relentless pressure. It is time for Somalia to confront a difficult but necessary question: Should the capital city remain in Mogadishu? Or is it time to establish co-capitals elsewhere in the country while allowing Mogadishu the time, space, and dignity to recover?
A Question That Determines National Unity
A national consensus on the capital is not a technical or bureaucratic discussion. It is an existential one. Capital cities shape national identity, political legitimacy, and the prospects for long-term peace. A disputed capital generates endless mistrust, delays reconstruction, and deepens political fractures. A consensual capital, by contrast, becomes the foundation of unity and a symbol of national belonging for all clans, all regions, and all Somali communities across the Horn of Africa.
The question is simple: Does Mogadishu still function as that symbol of unity? Or has it become a fault line that the nation can no longer afford?
A Capital That No Longer Feels National
Somalia needs a capital that is inclusive and unifying, free from clan ownership, free from the monopoly of a single constituency, and free from the heavy-handed presence of foreign armies, intelligence agencies, and diplomatic enclaves that now operate as mini-states within the city.
Mogadishu was once the embodiment of a city for all Somalis. Nuruddin Farah captured its essence beautifully in Maps:
“Mogadiscio—whose sand was white as the smoke of a fire just built. Mogadiscio— the most ancient city south of the Sahara, a city bombed by the Portuguese, looted by the Arabs, colonized by the Ottoman Turks, subdued by the Italians and bought, at the turn of the century, by a Zanzibar! who paid for it a little more than Bombay had
cost Britain or Manhattan the Dutch. The Sultan of Zanzibar sublet the territory to the Italians. I love its centre which sports a multiracial, multicultural heritage. I love it because it doesn’t make me feel small looking up at very tall skyscrapers.1”
For decades, Somalis from every clan, tariiqa, and region defended Mogadishu as a shared inheritance. Its streets, cafés, beaches, Shangani and Xamarweyne, its iconic Lido and Ceelgaab—these were treasured places woven into the collective memories of the entire nation. Visiting Mogadishu was a badge of pride. It belonged to everyone.
But that Mogadishu is no longer the Mogadishu we know today. The city’s demographic, cultural, and political landscape has been transformed beyond recognition, especially since the collapse of the state in 1991.
A City Living on a Razor’s Edge
It is impossible to speak honestly about Mogadishu without acknowledging the fear that shadows daily life. Visiting the city today is akin to dancing on a razor’s edge. Many Somali friends and acquaintances—bright minds, brave public servants, and innocent residents—have been murdered in suicide attacks targeting hotels, restaurants, government offices, and busy streets.
Despite the endless security checkpoints, concrete blast walls, and heavily fortified zones, violence remains the unwelcome constant. The city lives under the continuous threat of bombings and assassinations.
For Mogadishu’s residents, this has become a tragic routine. For visitors, it is a shock to the system. The psychological toll has crippled the city’s social fabric and distorted its public life. A capital city cannot operate under this constant siege and still claim to be the nerve centre of a recovering state.
The Rape and Ruin of Mogadishu
After the fall of Siyad Barre’s regime, Mogadishu became the first battleground in a series of clan-driven wars that ripped the nation apart. Rural militias, mobilised by clannish slogans, descended upon the city. Urban residents, though largely unarmed, were violently displaced.
Cultural institutions, archives, schools, universities, and libraries were pillaged. Homes and businesses were seized. National monuments were looted and smuggled abroad. The demographic character of the city was reshaped by force and fear.
This deep trauma remains unaddressed. Mogadishu’s wound, grievances, resentments, including long memories of dispossessions, are still raw. And these unresolved tensions continue to fuel instability not only in the capital but across the country. Mogadishu has repeatedly acted as the epicentre of national earthquakes, sending political tremors across all regions of Somalia.
A capital that destabilises the entire country cannot be the foundation of a lasting peace.
A Strategic Argument: Redistribution of Power and Wealth
There is also a strategic reason to reconsider the capital: to redistribute national power and wealth more fairly.
Centralising every organ of the state: executive, legislature, and judiciary within a single, volatile city has hindered political progress, slowed development, and entrenched deep regional inequalities. The economic and political lifelines of the entire country pass through Mogadishu, starving other regions of opportunity.
Many nations have recognised the risks of over-concentration and adopted multi capital models. South Africa, the Netherlands, Côte d’Ivoire, Benin, Malaysia, and Bolivia all distribute their governmental branches across two or three cities to promote balanced development and reduce political volatility. Somalia should do the same.
A Two- or Three-Capital System Makes Sense
Decentralising the capital does not mean abandoning Mogadishu. On the contrary, it means helping Mogadishu heal by allowing it to evolve into a financial, cultural, and commercial hub instead of forcing it to carry the unsustainable burden of being the sole political centre of a traumatised nation.
Imagine a Somalia where:
• the executive operates from one safe, neutral city,
• the parliament sits in another region,
• and the judiciary is headquartered in a third.
This model could:
• reduce social and political polarisation,
• distribute development funds more equitably,
• strengthen federalism,
• and give every region a tangible stake in national governance. Somalia desperately needs such a recalibration.
A Debate We Can No Longer Avoid
The debate about the capital is not a threat to national unity. It is a pathway toward it. Somali leaders must confront the ambiguities in the provisional constitution regarding the status of the capital, and they must do so with honesty, courage, and a vision for a peaceful future.
Relocating or decentralising the capital would be a transformative step; one that recognises the political realities on the ground while respecting Mogadishu’s historic significance.
We would not be abandoning Mogadishu. We would be giving it a chance to breathe again. A chance to rebuild. A chance to become what it once was: the jewel of the Indian Ocean, not the battleground for competing militias and political factions.
Fair for Mogadishu, Fair for Somalia
A new capital arrangement would reset regional relationships, stimulate development in underrepresented areas, and finally relieve Mogadishu of a burden it can no longer bear alone.
It is fair for Mogadishu. It is fair for the nation. And it is essential if Somalia is to achieve genuine, durable peace.
For any further correspondence, please contact AM Yusuf at
sharmarke.samatar@yahoo.com
