With U.S. development aid shrinking, counterterrorism support declining, and European donors showing increasing fatigue, Somalia is becoming dangerously isolated. In this deteriorating context, alShabaab appears more empowered than ever—yet few are closely monitoring the group’s deepening internal rifts, driven by clan rivalries and a looming power struggle that could erupt into open conflict.

President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s recent call for a national consultation—inviting opposition politicians, federal member state presidents, and community leaders to unite against terrorism—was a welcome gesture. “I am extending an invitation to a consultation meeting for the politicians and the leaders of the community to come together to join our arms in fighting against the terrorists,” he declared. While the opposition cautiously welcomed the move, seeking clarity on the agenda, the more pressing struggle lies beyond the conference hall—in the shadows of al-Shabaab itself.

In November 2021, a striking remark by Boqor Osman Aw Mohamud, widely known as Boqor Buurmadow, an influential traditional leader from Somaliland, captured Somalia’s political psyche. Speaking at an assembly of his closest political elites in Mogadishu, he stated: “There are two governments in Somalia: The Federal Government and the al-Shabaab Government and we head one of them.” Though delivered with humor, the comment carried a chilling truth.

Today, a clan-based power struggle threatens to fracture al-Shabaab’s leadership. At the center of the tension lies a volatile divide between the elites from Dir and Hawiye clans. While the group has long been controlled by shadowy ethnic Dir leaders from the Somaliland region—most notably the current leader Ahmed Diriye aka Abu Ubaidah, the successor to the late Ahmed Godane “Abu Zubeyr”—the group’s public face has been dominated by prominent ethnic Hawiye figures: Ali Dhere, Mahad Karate, and Yusuf Kabakudukade.

Al-Shabaab’s leadership, inspired by the Taliban’s return to power in Afghanistan and the political evolution of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham in Syria, began exploring its own path from terrorism to governance. But rather than consolidating its position, the group has become entangled in internal discord—an unraveling that reflects a form of ideological karma for the years of terror and repression it has inflicted on the Somali people. Its political aspirations have only sharpened internal contradictions and exposed deep-rooted fractures within its ranks.

Beneath the surface, a deeper strategic dilemma is taking shape: if peace negotiations—brokered by countries such as Norway, Qatar, Turkey, and the United States—materialize, the question of who will represent the group becomes unavoidable. The ethnic Hawiye faction, with its public visibility, seems more suitably placed to lead such talks, while the more clandestine ethnic Dir leadership risks being sidelined. Al-Shabaab’s top leader has sensed that his authority is being undermined by his own invisibility. To address this emerging threat, he has sought reinforcement by elevating prominent figures from his clan to serve as the group’s new public face.

The reinvention of al-Shabaab’s public image brought several high-profile figures from the Somaliland regions into the fold. Most notable among them is former academic Nageye Ali Khalif, alongside poet Abdiwahid Gama’did and hardline cleric Sheikh Adan Sune. These individuals quickly became part of al-Shabaab’s propaganda apparatus, appearing in videos, training camps, and sermons—serving as new public faces aligned with the group’s leader.

A growing fear compelled the Hawiye elites within al-Shabaab to reassess their alignment with the leader and their defensive strength. Past internal purges—like Godane’s 2013 assassination of Ibrahim Afghani and Moalim Burhan, two of the group’s founding fathers, which also forced hardliner Sheikh Hassan Dahir Aweys to flee and surrender to the government—served as a warning.

The arrival of figures like Nageye, Gama’did, and Adan Sune sent a chilling message to Ali Dhere, Mahad Karate, and Yusuf Kabakudukade, who perceived their inclusion as a strategic attempt to sideline them permanently. To avoid a similar fate to their eliminated comrades, they adopted a two-pronged strategy: recruiting from their own sub-clans to strengthen internal loyalty and reaffirming their relevance to both al-Shabaab’s leadership and external actors, including the Somali government and its international partners.

Their recruitment approach broke with al-Shabaab’s longstanding strategy of avoiding fighters from dominant clans. The group had traditionally sourced its foot soldiers from large but politically marginalized communities like the Jareerweyne and Rahanweyn, while reserving leadership for elites from the Dir, Hawiye, and Darod clans.

Diplomatic engagement with al-Shabaab is no longer speculative. Norway has spent years laying the groundwork for possible dialogue, gradually bringing in Turkey, Qatar, and the United States. While no formal talks have been acknowledged, mounting evidence suggests that indirect negotiations are taking shape.

The group’s capacity for destruction remains unmatched in the region, though its capacity to govern a nation remains entirely untested. Its deadliest act came in October 2017, when it executed Africa’s most devastating suicide bombing in Mogadishu, killing over 1,000 people—second only to 9/11 on a global scale. Al-Shabaab’s reach extends beyond Somalia. Its attacks have rocked regional capitals—Nairobi, Kampala, Djibouti—and various areas of Kenya and Ethiopia.

Somalia now stands at a critical crossroads—poised between the potential for transformative progress and the risk of deeper instability. If the government remains blind-spotted by constitutional wrangling, controversial land sales, and intra-elite rivalries—all based on self-interest and short-term ambitions— then the momentum may slip away. The reality is al-Shabaab’s internal divisions could escalate into open confrontation at any moment, and it may offer both a crisis and a strategic opportunity. A fractured insurgency could present the most promising chance in years to deliver a decisive blow, or a splintered terrorist group could give rise to more radical and unpredictable factions. Worse still, a dominant faction might reframe the group’s ideology into an even more dangerous project.

However, whether this chapter becomes a turning point or yet another missed opportunity will not be decided in militant hideouts—but by those in positions of legitimate power, willing to shape Somalia’s future, for better or worse.

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Abukar Albadri is a seasoned media professional with over two decades of experience in journalism, authorship, and cultural production. Email: abukar.albadri@gmail.com

The post Somalia: Al-Shabaab’s Growing Clan Divide and the Government’s Blind Spot appeared first on Kaab TV.

Known for its fertile soil and diverse crop and fruit production, the region is central to Somalia’s food supply.

However, farmers in the area face relentless challenges that threaten their livelihoods and survival.

The majority of farmers in Lower Shabelle have been displaced, forced to abandon their land due to a combination of factors: insecurity caused by Al-Shabaab, ongoing clan militia clashes, and the devastating effects of climate change, which have reduced river water levels and rainfall.

As a result, many local farmers have sought refuge in displacement camps in Mogadishu and other places, leaving fertile lands untended.

Lower Shabelle is divided into eight districts. Six are under government control, while two—Kuntu Waarey and Sablaale—remain under Al-Shabaab’s dominance.

In towns like Janaale, a highly fertile area, farmers continue their efforts to cultivate crops despite overwhelming odds.

Caught between two worlds that cannot coexist

In Janaale, farmers must navigate a daily struggle between two opposing authorities. During the day, Al-Shabaab controls the farmlands and demands financial contributions in the form of zakawat (a kind of extortion tax).

At night, when farmers return home, they face the government, which imposes its taxes. Aweys Eebow Haji, a 60-year-old farmer from Janaale, describes this impossible situation.

“The output of our farms has significantly decreased because, during the day, we operate under Al-Shabaab’s control, and at night, we return to the government’s jurisdiction. This is unsustainable. We live between two worlds that cannot coexist.”

Al-Shabaab demands zakawat from farmers, often forcing them to deliver their harvested crops. Questions about affordability or legitimacy are not tolerated.

“You can’t question them,” says Aweys.

He explains that Al-Shabaab also forbids farmers from cutting down trees, as they use forested areas as hideouts.

Farmers who clear their lands risk being accused of harming Al-Shabaab’s operations and face severe punishments, including being forced to compensate with weapons.

For many, the challenges have become unbearable. Some farmers have abandoned their lands entirely, leading to vast areas becoming overgrown and uncultivable.

The lack of resources and investment further exacerbates the problem.

In government-controlled areas, irrigation systems have fallen into disrepair, making it nearly impossible to bring water to the farms.

Without proper irrigation, the lands remain unused, even during the rainy season.

Farmers like Aweys lament that, without unity and security in the country, these challenges will persist, and hunger will continue to devastate communities.

The Struggle in Shalambood

In Shalambood, another agriculturally rich town in Lower Shabelle which is about 96 kilometres, the situation is no different.

Approximately 90% of the population relies on agriculture for their livelihoods.

However, outdated irrigation canals and lack of investment hinder farming.

“The Shalambood canal, which once extended to Janaale, is now obsolete. It hasn’t been dredged in years. When the rains come, there’s no way for the water to reach our farms,” says Ali Adan Nur, a farmer in Shalambood.

He explains that while businesses did not show interest in investing, the local farmers lack the tools and infrastructure to store rainwater or modernize their farming methods.

Despite these dire conditions, Somalia’s Ministry of Agriculture has yet to announce or implement plans to support farmers in areas under Al-Shabaab’s control.

Farmers in these regions are left to fend for themselves, caught between militant threats and government neglect.

For the farmers of Lower Shabelle, farming is not just a livelihood—it’s a lifeline. Yet, insecurity, lack of resources, and the absence of effective governance have left them struggling to survive.

Many have resorted to waiting for rare food handouts and ration vouchers, unable to return to the lands that once sustained them.

(Watch this report on Youtube with video subtitle in English)

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