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Mea Culpa: We Questioned His Silence. He Was Making History.
They said it couldn’t be done. They said Somaliland would wait another generation—perhaps two—before any state would dare extend formal recognition. The politics were too complex, the risks too high, the opposition too entrenched.
President Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi “Irro” wasn’t listening.
On the anniversary of his inauguration, Somaliland’s soft‑spoken president delivered a geopolitical thunderclap that reverberated from Hargeisa to Jerusalem, from Washington to Mogadishu: the State of Israel has formally recognized the Republic of Somaliland. Not a memorandum. Not a framework. Full. Official. Recognition.
After thirty‑three years of democratic governance, security, and institutional continuity in one of the world’s most volatile regions, Somaliland has finally secured what it earned long ago—a seat at the table. And it was delivered not by bombast or spectacle, but by a career diplomat who understands that history is often made in silence.
The Silence That Spoke Volumes
Six weeks ago, President Irro departed for Dubai. At first glance, it appeared routine. Then the days stretched into weeks. No press briefings. No photo opportunities. No diplomatic platitudes about “fruitful engagements.”
Even this publication began asking uncomfortable questions. Where the hell was he? What was taking so long? In an age of performative transparency, the blackout was striking. Speculation flourished.
The explanation, revealed only yesterday, was as simple as it was consequential: Dubai was merely the opening move.
A single photograph released by Israel’s foreign ministry told the real story. President Irro was not in a conference hotel in the Gulf; he was in Israel itself. Negotiations of historic consequence were underway—talks so sensitive that secrecy was not a preference but a prerequisite.
A small, disciplined circle of advisers kept the process sealed. No leaks. No theatrics. No premature triumphalism. While critics muttered about transparency and rivals fumed in ignorance, Somaliland’s president was quietly doing what no administration before him had managed: converting legitimacy into recognition.
Somaliland’s Henry Kissinger
Those who know Abdirahman “Irro” know he is not a man of slogans. He is deliberate, analytical, and unflashy—a diplomat shaped by process rather than applause. He understands that trust is built privately, that leverage is accumulated patiently, and that results matter more than rhetoric.
Somaliland has found its Henry Kissinger—a practitioner of real statecraft who operates in the shadows, who understands that the most consequential diplomacy happens behind closed doors, who knows when to speak and when silence is the most powerful weapon in the arsenal.
Like the great strategists of the twentieth century, Irro grasped a lesson too often forgotten in Hargeisa: transformative diplomacy is not crowdsourced. It is executed quietly, protected ruthlessly, and revealed only when irreversible.
Where others hesitated—paralyzed by imagined backlash or regional sensitivities—Irro calculated differently. He understood that waiting for the “perfect moment” is merely another way of choosing permanent deferral. Sovereignty is not granted by consensus; it is asserted and defended.
The Risk Others Refused to Take
The strategic case for Israeli recognition was never in doubt. Technology transfer, agricultural innovation, security cooperation, diplomatic amplification—every serious administration understood the upside.
What stopped them was fear: of clerical outrage, of Arab League condemnation, of predictable denunciations from Mogadishu, of domestic critics cloaked in piety and caution.
So they did nothing. They studied the issue. They formed committees. They engaged in “quiet diplomacy” that was so quiet it never made a sound.
Irro reached a harder, more honest conclusion: inaction carried greater risk than action. Somaliland’s future could not remain hostage to hypothetical reactions from actors who had denied its existence for three decades. And so he acted—decisively, discreetly, and without apology.
This was cold‑eyed realism, not recklessness. Strategic patience, not timidity. A recognition that diplomacy at this level cannot survive leaks or vetoes from those invested in Somaliland’s stagnation.
When Reality Arrived
The formal exchange between Jerusalem and Hargeisa was restrained, professional, and historic. Two governments acknowledging a reality long obvious to anyone paying attention.
The public reaction confounded every cynic.
There were no riots, no religious conflagrations, no national unraveling. Instead, Somaliland celebrated—spontaneously and joyfully. Israeli flags appeared alongside Somaliland’s green, white, and red banner with its black star and shahada. Fireworks lit Hargeisa’s skyline. Across Berbera, Burao, Borama, and beyond, citizens marked the end of a thirty‑three‑year diplomatic purgatory.
This was not manufactured enthusiasm. It was release.
The lesson was unmistakable: results unite more effectively than rhetoric ever could. The quiet diplomat had done what the loud ones couldn’t.
The Predictable Chorus of Hypocrites
Predictably, the familiar chorus assembled.
Palestinian officials echoed Mogadishu, recycling Al Jazeera propaganda about alleged plans to displace Palestinians to Somaliland Al Jazeera. Let’s be clear: Somaliland’s bilateral relationship with Israel has absolutely nothing to do with conspiracy theories or anyone else’s manufactured outrage. Somaliland has welcomed thousands of refugees—Yemenis, Syrians, and others who have built thriving communities here. Our foreign policy is not subject to veto by external actors, however loudly they protest.
Egypt coordinated objections with Somalia, Turkey, and Djibouti The Times of Israel—despite maintaining its own long‑standing peace treaty with Israel since 1979 and receiving billions in U.S. aid as a result. Moral lectures from beneficiaries of the very relationship they condemn carry limited weight.
Turkey’s denunciation was particularly theatrical. Ankara condemned recognition as Israel’s “expansionist policies” and “explicit intervention in Somalia’s internal affairs” The Times of Israel—while maintaining extensive diplomatic and commercial ties with Israel. Turkey, which signed a Free Trade Agreement with Israel in 1996 and has seen bilateral trade grow from $1.41 billion in 2002 to nearly $9 billion by 2022. Turkey, which despite Erdoğan’s fiery anti-Israel rhetoric, was Israel’s fifth-largest supplier in 2024, with exports totaling $2.86 billion.
The hypocrisy is breathtaking.
But here’s where Turkey’s moral lecture truly falls apart: this is a country with massive human rights violations and an outright massacre of Kurds in its own backyard. Turkey has no moral ground whatsoever to lecture Somaliland and Israel about sovereignty, self-determination, or human rights. The performative outrage may serve domestic audiences, but it does not substitute for credibility.
Somaliland will not outsource its sovereignty to states that reconcile with Israel in practice while condemning others in public.
Who Hesitated—and What It Cost Them
This moment also exposes the opportunity cost of hesitation—most notably for Ethiopia.
Addis Ababa once grasped what others refused to acknowledge: Somaliland is not a theoretical entity, but a strategic reality. The now‑defunct Somaliland–Ethiopia Memorandum of Understanding reflected a hard‑nosed assessment of Ethiopian interests—access to the Red Sea, diversification away from Djibouti, and partnership with a stable, democratic neighbor rather than a perpetually fragile Somalia.
Then Mogadishu kicked dust in Ethiopia’s face.
Somalia responded to the MOU not with negotiation or compromise, but with diplomatic tantrums, threats, and manufactured outrage—despite lacking sovereignty over Somaliland and lacking the capacity to offer Ethiopia anything comparable. Faced with noise and pressure, Addis Ababa blinked. The MOU was shelved. Strategic clarity gave way to short‑term risk aversion.
That hesitation now carries a measurable cost.
The Somaliland Ethiopia courted under an MOU was an unrecognized polity willing to trade access, concessions, and flexibility for political backing. The Somaliland that now exists—recognized by a sovereign state with global reach—is categorically different. Recognition changes the balance sheet. It raises the price of entry. It formalizes expectations. It reduces the need for asymmetrical concessions.
From this point forward, Somaliland does not negotiate from isolation. It negotiates from legitimacy.
There is also a Washington factor that shaped Addis Ababa’s caution. For the past several years, Ethiopian officials have operated under the assumption—fair or not—that U.S. policy space on Somaliland was constrained by a State Department culture unusually sympathetic to Mogadishu’s narrative, amplified by influential congressional voices hostile to Somaliland’s recognition. That perception mattered. It discouraged risk‑taking and made de‑escalation seem prudent, even when Ethiopian interests argued otherwise.
That era is ending.
The geopolitical environment has shifted. Washington’s internal debates no longer freeze policy by default, and recognition by Israel punctures the illusion that Somaliland remains diplomatically radioactive. The signal to Addis Ababa—and to every capital that hesitated—is unmistakable: the train has left the station, and it is not stopping.
Ethiopia still has a seat. But it is no longer boarding at the MOU price. Engagement now means formal recognition of reality, serious state‑to‑state arrangements, and the acceptance that a recognized Somaliland bargains as an equal, not as a petitioner.
For Ethiopia, the lesson is stark: early movers shape terms; late adopters pay premiums. What could have been secured through quiet bilateral alignment will now require formal treaties, multilateral scrutiny, and harder bargaining. A recognized Somaliland is not less available to Ethiopia—but it is far more expensive.
This is the broader warning to every capital that hesitated when confronted by Mogadishu’s bluster. The cost of denial compounds. Somaliland’s recognition did not merely reward patience; it penalized indecision.
Who Stood Up—and Who Did Not
For three decades, Somaliland has governed responsibly, conducted peaceful elections, secured its territory, countered extremism, and built institutions from scratch. In return, it was told—endlessly—to wait.
Israel declined to participate in that fiction.
It assessed Somaliland as it exists, not as others wish it away. It recognized a functioning democracy exercising de facto and de jure independence. No permission sought from Mogadishu. No indulgence in diplomatic euphemism.
That’s a friend. That’s an ally. That’s a partner who checks the box with a big fat marker.
That distinction matters.
What This Moment Signals—and Who’s Next
This recognition is not an endpoint. It is a breach in a diplomatic dam.
Israel brings tangible advantages—technology, security cooperation, agricultural expertise, and access to international corridors long closed to Somaliland. More importantly, it establishes precedent. The taboo has been broken. The cost of continued denial has just risen for every capital that quietly acknowledges Somaliland’s reality while publicly denying it.
The world did not collapse. The region did not ignite. A democratic state recognized another democratic state. That’s it. That’s the whole story.
And it changes everything.
Now we’re in the world community. Other countries are already lining up.
The United Arab Emirates stands out as the most likely Gulf state to formalize what has long been reality. The UAE has already recognized Somaliland—informally, quietly, but unmistakably—through its massive investment in Berbera Port and the corridor. DP World’s multimillion-dollar commitment to Berbera was not charity. It was a calculated bet on Somaliland’s stability, sovereignty, and future. The infrastructure speaks louder than any diplomatic cable: the UAE has been treating Somaliland as a viable partner for years.
Formal recognition would merely align Abu Dhabi’s diplomatic posture with its economic reality. The infrastructure is already built. The investment is already made. The relationship is already functional. What remains is paperwork—and in the post-Israel recognition environment, that paperwork just became significantly easier to justify.
The floodgates have opened. The precedent has been set. The impossible has become inevitable.
The Work Ahead
But let’s be clear-eyed: recognition confers opportunity, not absolution. The real test begins now—converting diplomatic legitimacy into economic growth, strategic depth, and institutional resilience.
This will require unity, discipline, and seriousness of purpose. We must stand behind President Irro and let him take us to the promised land we have been seeking for thirty-four years. Internal distractions, factional politics, and performative outrage are luxuries Somaliland can no longer afford.
President Irro forced the door open. Walking through it—deliberately and together—is the national task.
A Moment Earned
There will be time for critique and debate. That is the privilege of a democracy. But history also demands moments of clarity.
This is one of them.
President Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi “Irro” delivered what generations were told was unattainable. He did so quietly, methodically, and without theatrics. He has made his people proud. He has made his nation proud. Somaliland is stronger for it.
The celebration will fade. The work will not.
Somaliland has entered a new era—and the hard work begins now.
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