The Minister of Appeasement and the President Who Won’t Act

There comes a moment in every nation’s struggle for recognition when its own officials become the greatest obstacle to its dignity. That moment arrived this week when our Minister of the Presidency—a man entrusted with safeguarding the honor of our Republic—chose instead to bow, scrape, and genuflect before Qatar’s diplomatic insult with the enthusiasm of a colonial subject grateful for his master’s attention.

The facts are stark and shameful. Qatar’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in a statement dripping with contempt, referred to Somaliland as a mere “province of Somalia” and had the audacity to claim they discussed “Somalia affairs” with President Abdirahman Abdillahi “Cirro”—the duly elected President of the Republic of Somaliland. This was not a diplomatic mishap or translation error. This was a calculated humiliation, a deliberate erasure of our sovereignty delivered with the precision of a surgical knife.

Any self-respecting official would have demanded an immediate correction. Any patriot would have recalled our delegation or if the President truly thought this was a good idea resign on the spot. Any leader worthy of the title would have made it crystal clear that the Republic of Somaliland stands as an independent nation, not as some wayward province awaiting reconciliation with a failed state.

Instead, our Minister of the Presidency—let us now call him what he truly is, the Minister of Appeasement—returned from Doha with a statement so craven, so utterly devoid of national pride, that it belongs in a museum of diplomatic cowardice. “The statement from Qatar was okay,” he declared with the casual indifference of a man selling his birthright for a mess of pottage, “because Somaliland is not officially recognized.”

Not officially recognized? This is the pathetic mantra of a defeated mind, the white flag of surrender disguised as pragmatism. By this logic, we should accept every insult, endure every humiliation, and smile gratefully at every slight because some distant capitals have not yet acknowledged what we have built with our blood, sweat, and unwavering determination.

For thirty-three years, Somaliland has stood as a beacon of democracy, stability, and progress in a region torn apart by chaos. We have held free and fair elections while Somalia remained a playground for warlords and foreign interventions. We have built institutions while they collected aid money. We have secured our borders while they begged for peacekeepers. We have created a functioning state from the ashes of genocide while they perfected the art of failure.

Yet our Minister of Appeasement would have us believe that none of this matters because a few bureaucrats in foreign capitals have not yet rubber-stamped our existence. This is not realpolitik—this is capitulation. This is not diplomatic wisdom—this is the mentality of the colonized, forever seeking validation from masters who view them as subjects, not equals.

The President of Somaliland does not discuss “Somalia affairs” any more than the President of France discusses “German affairs” or the President of Kenya discusses “Ethiopian affairs.” He discusses Somaliland affairs, Horn of Africa affairs, regional affairs, and international affairs—but never the internal matters of a foreign nation with which we share nothing but a colonial border drawn by European powers who cared nothing for our distinct identity, culture, and aspirations.

Qatar’s foreign ministry knew exactly what they were doing when they issued that statement. They were testing our resolve, measuring our spine, and calculating whether we would defend our dignity or accept their contempt. Thanks to our Minister of Appeasement, they have their answer: we will not only accept their insults, we will thank them for the privilege of being insulted.

This is what happens when appeasement becomes policy, when the desperate desire for acceptance trumps self-respect, when officials mistake servility for diplomacy. The Minister of Appeasement has not advanced Somaliland’s cause—he has set it back by demonstrating that we can be bullied, dismissed, and humiliated without consequence.

The people of Somaliland deserve better than officials who treat their sovereignty as a negotiable commodity. They deserve leaders who understand that recognition is not a gift bestowed by benevolent powers but a right earned through struggle, sacrifice, and the unwavering defense of principle.

Every concession to those who would deny our existence makes the next concession easier. Every acceptance of diplomatic slight paves the way for greater humiliations. Every moment of appeasement delays the day when the world will have no choice but to acknowledge what we have always known: that Somaliland is a nation, not a province, and its people are citizens, not subjects.

But this is not the first time our Minister of Appeasement has displayed such breathtaking political tone-deafness. When he sat in opposition as Secretary General of Waddani party, pontificating about diplomatic wisdom and lecturing the government on proper statecraft, he demonstrated the same shocking inability to grasp the most basic principles of sovereignty that he now exhibits from the driver’s seat.

The incident remains seared in the memory of anyone who understands the stakes of our struggle. When Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed floated the disastrous idea of bringing Somalia’s then-President Mohamed Abdullahi Farmajo to Somaliland—a scheme so transparently designed to legitimize Somalia’s claim over our territory that even a first-year political science student could see through it—the entire political establishment united in opposition.

The then-President Bihi, in a rare moment of genuine statesmanship, consulted with all relevant stakeholders. The Chairman of Parliament, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, and leaders of both opposition parties understood immediately what was at stake. Allowing Farmajo to set foot on Somaliland soil would have handed Somalia’s beleaguered president the propaganda victory of a lifetime—the symbolic return of the “prodigal son” to the fold, regardless of the circumstances of his arrival.

The optics alone would have been devastating. Here was a man whose government controlled barely half of Mogadishu, whose authority was so weak that he couldn’t venture outside the Green Zone without an army of foreign peacekeepers, whose legitimacy was so questioned that he extended his own mandate by force—and we would have given him the gift of appearing as the president who brought Somaliland back into Somalia’s embrace.

The political establishment understood this. The intelligentsia understood this. The man on the street understood this. Even children playing in the streets of Hargeisa understood that you don’t invite those who deny your existence to tea in your living room.

Everyone understood except our current Minister of Appeasement, who responded to this grave threat to our sovereignty with the casual indifference of a man discussing the weather: “What is the big deal if Farmajo comes to Hargeisa?”

What is the big deal? The big deal, Mr. Khadar Loge, is that symbols matter in politics. The big deal is that perception shapes reality in international relations. The big deal is that we have spent three decades building a reputation as a sovereign nation, not a wayward province awaiting reconciliation with a failed state.

The big deal is that every photograph of Farmajo in Hargeisa would have been worth a thousand Somali propaganda pamphlets. Every handshake would have been transformed into evidence of Somalia’s benevolent leadership over its “northern regions.” Every moment of his visit would have been weaponized against our cause in every African Union summit, every Arab League meeting, every international forum where our recognition is debated.

But our Minister of Appeasement couldn’t see the big deal then, just as he can’t see it now when Qatar treats our President as a regional administrator discussing “Somalia affairs.” This is not growth in office—this is consistency in capitulation, a career-long dedication to missing the point of our struggle.

And if his casual dismissal of sovereignty weren’t damaging enough, the Minister of Appeasement has now ventured into the most sacred territory of our national narrative—the very foundation of our independence—with the delicacy of a bulldozer in a graveyard. In another moment of jaw-dropping insensitivity, he has declared that Somaliland is “not as fragile as an eggshell” and that we should not frame our exit from the ill-fated Somalia union on the genocide and catastrophic events that led to our destruction.

Let that sink in. The Minister of Appeasement wants us to forget the genocide. He wants us to whitewash the systematic destruction of our cities, the deliberate targeting of our civilians, the mass graves that still scar our landscape. He wants us to pretend that our independence was not born from the ashes of Siad Barre’s war machine but from some genteel philosophical disagreement about governance structures.

This is not just historical amnesia—this is historical vandalism of the most obscene kind. The Minister of Appeasement would have us erase the very foundation of our moral case for independence, the bedrock argument that no people should be forced to remain united with those who sought to exterminate them.

The bones of our martyrs in Hargeisa’s mass graves would turn if they could hear such words. The survivors of the concentration camps in Mandheera would weep at such betrayal. The mothers who lost their children to Siad Barre’s jets would curse the day they trusted their story to such hands.

“Not as fragile as an eggshell”? Tell that to the families who fled across the border with nothing but the clothes on their backs while their cities burned behind them. Tell that to the entire population of Somaliland—yes, the entire population—who were displaced, scattered like leaves in a hurricane, their lives shattered by a regime that viewed them as obstacles to be removed rather than citizens to be protected.

The Minister of Appeasement, in his infinite wisdom, believes we should downplay this “inconvenient” history. He thinks our case for independence would be stronger if we simply forgot why we needed to be independent in the first place. This is the logic of the colonized mind—the desperate desire to appear reasonable, moderate, and unthreatening to those who would deny our very right to exist.

But the genocide is not a liability to be hidden—it is the ultimate proof of why Somaliland can never, must never, and will never return to a union with Somalia. When a government turns its military machine against its own citizens, when it bombs cities into rubble, when it forces an entire population into exile, it forfeits forever any claim to legitimacy over those people.

The world understands this principle. It is why South Sudan gained independence. It is why Bangladesh exists. It is why the international community accepts that some unions are so poisoned by violence that they cannot be salvaged. But our Minister of Appeasement, in his eagerness to appear diplomatic, would throw away our strongest argument because it makes him uncomfortable at cocktail parties.

This is not pragmatism—this is capitulation to the oppressor’s narrative. This is not strategic thinking—this is the internalized shame of a man who believes our suffering was somehow our fault, that our genocide was somehow an embarrassment rather than a crime that cries out for justice.

The Minister of Appeasement has now crossed a line that no Somalilander should ever cross. He has not just failed to defend our sovereignty—he has actively undermined the moral foundation upon which that sovereignty rests. He has not just accepted insults from foreign powers—he has provided them with the arguments they need to dismiss our cause.

But the damage extends far beyond hurt feelings or wounded pride. Every act of appeasement, every acceptance of humiliation, every capitulation to those who would erase us sends a clear and devastating message to the international community: Somaliland itself is not convinced of its own sovereignty.

When potential suitors—those brave nations who might muster the courage to recognize Somaliland—witness our officials accepting insults with gratitude, they draw the obvious conclusion: if Somaliland’s own ministers don’t believe in their independence, why should we risk our diplomatic capital to support it?

Our Minister of Appeasement has been while in opposition and unfortunately, it has not been just an election rhetoric, he has become Somalia’s most effective ambassador. With every statement that downplays our independence, with every acceptance of being treated as a province, with every dismissal of our historical grievances, he telegraphs to the world that we are indeed still part of Somalia—perhaps just waiting for a better deal to be offered, a sweeter reunion package, a more palatable version of subjugation.

This is diplomatic suicide of the most sophisticated kind. The Minister of Appeasement has managed to convince potential allies that recognition would be premature, that Somaliland itself is ambivalent about its independence, that we might yet return to the fold if the terms were right.

Why would any nation risk Somalia’s wrath to recognize a state whose own officials suggest it might not be permanent? Why would any government expend political capital on a cause that Somaliland’s own representatives seem reluctant to champion? Why would any leader take the leap of recognition when Somaliland’s own ministers are building the arguments against it?

The international community takes its cues from our actions, not our aspirations. When we accept being called a province, they see a province. When we dismiss our genocide as irrelevant, they see a grievance without substance. When we treat our independence as negotiable, they see a temporary arrangement awaiting better terms.

The Minister of Appeasement has single-handedly convinced potential allies that Somaliland is playing hard-to-get rather than fighting for survival, that we are negotiating terms rather than defending principles, that we are waiting for a better Somalia rather than rejecting Somalia entirely.

This is not diplomacy—this is the slow-motion destruction of our international case. This is not strategic patience—this is the systematic demolition of everything our people have built with their sacrifice and determination.

Here lies the true tragedy of our Minister of Appeasement: he spends more time defending his asinine policies to outraged Somalilanders than he does defending Somaliland to the world. When Qatar insults our sovereignty, he rushes to defend Qatar’s position. When Ethiopians propose legitimizing Somalia’s claims over our territory, he asks “what’s the big deal?” When his own people cry out against his capitulation, he lectures them about not being “fragile as eggshells.”

This is a man who has perfected the art of fighting the wrong battles. He will argue passionately with patriotic Somalilanders who question his judgment, but he will not lift a finger to challenge foreign powers who deny our existence. He will spend hours explaining to his own people why they should accept humiliation, but he will not spend five minutes demanding respect from those who humiliate us.

The Minister of Appeasement has his priorities exactly backward. He treats his fellow Somalilanders as the enemy to be defeated and foreign powers as friends to be appeased. He has more fight in him when responding to criticism from Hargeisa than when defending Hargeisa’s honor abroad.

This is the ultimate betrayal of office: a minister who sees his own people as the problem and their oppressors as the solution. This is not diplomacy—this is collaboration with those who would erase us from the map.

The Minister of Appeasement has forgotten the most fundamental principle of sovereignty: possession is nine-tenths of the law. We possess our land—every hill, every valley, every grain of sand from Zeila to Las Anod. We possess our institutions—a functioning democracy, a professional military, a working bureaucracy. We possess our dignity—earned through three decades of self-governance and democratic progress.

Somalia possesses nothing but empty claims and faded maps. They cannot govern their own capital without foreign peacekeepers, yet they claim dominion over a nation that has governed itself successfully for over three decades. They cannot secure their own borders, yet they draw lines on our territory. They cannot feed their own people, yet they dream of ruling ours.

The world may debate recognition, but reality has already rendered its verdict. We are here. We are functioning. We are thriving. We possess what is ours—our country, our government, our future. No amount of diplomatic double-talk can change the fact that Somaliland exists as a sovereign nation while Somalia exists as a concept sustained by international life support.

Yet our Minister of Appeasement would have us beg for permission to exist from those who themselves exist only through the charity of others. He would have us seek validation from failed states and their enablers, as if our three decades of democratic governance count for nothing compared to a rubber stamp from bureaucrats who have never set foot in our country.

Possession is not just nine-tenths of the law—in our case, it is the entirety of the law. We possess our sovereignty not because anyone granted it to us, but because we built it with our own hands, defended it with our own blood, and sustained it with our own will. Those who would deny this reality are denying the evidence of their own eyes.

But ultimately, the Minister of Appeasement is not the one who stands before history as the guardian of our national destiny. That responsibility belongs to President Abdirahman Abdillahi “Cirro,” the man Somalilanders elected with a clear and decisive majority to lead them into the promised land of international recognition.

The President now faces a moment of truth that will define his legacy and determine whether he is the leader who finally delivers Somaliland to its rightful place among the world’s recognized nations or another chapter in the long litany of failed leadership.

If his Minister of the Presidency is truly compromised—if foreign influences have found in him a receptive ear for their narratives about Somaliland’s place in the world—then President Cirro’s failure to act reveals a fatal weakness in his own leadership. A minister operating under such influences is not just the minister’s shame; it is the President’s abdication of duty.

If, alternatively, his Minister of the Presidency genuinely believes this garbage through sheer ignorance—if his understanding of diplomacy comes from hastily reading leaflets or ChatGPT summaries rather than grasping the fundamental realities of statecraft—then what does that say about the President’s judgment in selecting such a man for such a critical role?

Either way, President Cirro stands condemned by his own choices. Either he lacks the strength to remove a minister who has lost his way, or he lacks the wisdom to recognize basic incompetence when it stares him in the face. Either he is too weak to act, or too blind to see. Neither bodes well for a president entrusted with the sacred mission of leading Somaliland to recognition.

The people of Somaliland did not elect President Cirro to manage decline or to oversee the systematic undermining of their cause by his own appointees. They elected him to be the president who would walk Somaliland into the community of nations as a respected and recognized member. They entrusted him with carrying their will—not appeasing their enemies.

Every day the Minister of Appeasement remains in office is another day that President Cirro fails the mandate he was given. Every capitulation his minister makes is a capitulation the President owns. Every insult his minister accepts is an insult the President endorses.

President Cirro, you cannot fulfill your destiny with a Minister of Appeasement who believes our strongest arguments should be hidden and our proudest achievements should be downplayed. You cannot lead Somaliland to recognition with an official who spends more energy defending our enemies than defending our interests. You cannot be the president who delivered recognition while tolerating a minister who delivers only excuses and humiliation.

The choice before you is stark and unforgiving: be the president who had the courage to remove those who betrayed the people’s trust, or be the president who will be remembered as the man who let appeasement destroy Somaliland’s destiny. History will not judge you kindly if you choose the latter. Neither will the people who believed in you enough to give you their votes.

The Republic of Somaliland deserves better than ministers who mistake surrender for sophistication. It deserves better than presidents who mistake loyalty to failed appointees for leadership. It deserves recognition, and it deserves leaders strong enough to demand it.

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