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Imagine a single private company holding every lever of government in its hands — shaping decisions, subverting the rule of law to fleece Somaliland, and quietly absorbing state institutions into its own machinery through deception and bribes. That is no longer a hypothetical in Somaliland, a country that has craved diplomatic recognition since 1991.
Many Somalilanders increasingly fear that this is precisely what has happened. At the center of those concerns is Dahabshiil — also known as “Dhiigshiil” — Somaliland’s largest financial and telecommunications conglomerate. Its rise from a small grocery business in Burao to one of the Horn of Africa’s largest enterprises is, by any measure, a remarkable business success. But commercial success does not place any company above public accountability.
Founder Mohamed Said Duale entered the remittance business in the 1980s, serving Somali migrant workers across the Gulf. When the United States shut down the rival Al-Barakat network after the September 11 attacks over terrorism-financing allegations, Dahabshiil expanded rapidly to fill the vacuum. Critics argue that this growing economic power was gradually converted into political influence — first through campaign financing for the Kulmiye party, and later through close relationships with successive administrations, including that of current President Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi “Cirro.”
Perhaps the most alarming development involves the Guurti, Somaliland’s House of Elders — a stabilizing institution long relied on for oversight during national crises, and one of the few checks capable of resisting political or commercial influence, provided it stays independent.
That’s why the recent selection of its leadership deserves scrutiny. After chairman Suleiman Aden resigned for health reasons, Muse Abdi Dualeh — a cousin of Dahabshiil founder Mohamed Said Duale — was chosen to succeed him. Several outlets have alleged the process was shaped by bribery and pressure to secure the post for a relative of the founder. Those allegations remain unproven, but if true, they’d suggest Somaliland’s final constitutional safeguard has itself become vulnerable to private influence.
The years following Kulmiye’s 2010 election victory remain especially contested. As President Ahmed Mohamed “Silanyo’s” health declined, critics say individuals with close Dahabshiil ties exercised outsized influence over government decision-making, blurring the boundary between private interest and public office. Among those frequently named is Hersi Hassan, a former Dahabshiil employee and relative of the founder, who now chairs the ruling Waddani party.
Over the past decade, journalists, opposition figures, former officials, and civil society activists have accused Dahabshiil of systematically extracting public wealth through political influence and the abuse of state power. If accurate, these allegations would represent one of the largest transfers of public assets into private hands in Somaliland’s history. Critics point to the transfer of valuable public land — including the former Traffic Police headquarters and colonial-era government buildings in the Shacab area — without competitive bidding or public disclosure. They also cite the handover of Hargeisa’s electricity utility, serving some 250,000 customers, to a Dahabshiil affiliate later rebranded Sompower, through what critics describe as a noncompetitive process. Consumers subsequently faced rising electricity prices, alongside unanswered questions about a reported $40 million World Bank-funded energy project.
Additional accusations include the construction of a fuel storage facility in Berbera without the required safety permits, an attempted seizure of the Berbera Cement Factory — blocked only after intervention by Sahel clan elders — and coordinated currency hoarding that critics say amounted to manipulation of the Somaliland shilling. If proven, the latter would rank among the most serious economic abuses in the country’s history.
These concerns are not rumor alone. In 2019, Freedom House reported that Somaliland’s Public Accounts Committee had uncovered widespread misuse of government funds during the Silanyo administration and had formally requested an investigation by the attorney general. None followed. Instead, committee chairman Nasir Ali Shire — who had publicly questioned Dahabshiil’s land acquisitions — was removed from his post by the Speaker of Parliament. To many observers, the message was unmistakable: exposing alleged corruption carried greater political risk than investigating it.
Whether any of these allegations could ultimately be substantiated in court is a matter for investigators, not opinion writers. But the volume, consistency, and persistence of the claims — combined with documented institutional failures to examine them — demand far more than official silence.
The appropriate response is neither rumor nor denial — it is independent investigation. The government should establish a credible commission empowered to examine public land transfers, government contracts, donor-funded projects, election interference, and currency manipulation. Its findings should be made public, and prosecutions should follow wherever evidence leads.
But I remain skeptical that the current Waddani administration will initiate such an investigation against a company so deeply intertwined with Somaliland’s political establishment. If the government refuses to act, peaceful civic pressure — including a voluntary consumer boycott of Dahabshiil’s businesses — becomes one of the few remaining courses of action open to citizens. Such a boycott would not be a declaration of guilt. It would be a demand for transparency and equal justice under the law.
Ultimately, this is no longer a debate about one corporation. It is a debate about whether Somaliland remains a republic governed by law, or gradually becomes a state where economic power determines political power — as it did for the Gupta family in South Africa. An independent investigation would either clear Dahabshiil’s name or expose wrongdoing where it exists. Either outcome would strengthen Somaliland’s democracy. Refusing to investigate accomplishes only one thing: it teaches citizens that power, not justice, decides who is held accountable. That is how state capture succeeds — not in one dramatic moment, but one unanswered allegation at a time.
Somaliland’s patriots did not fight, and did not die, for a nation that could be quietly auctioned off to whoever controls the money-transfer market. The Guurti does not belong to Dahabshiil. The government does not belong to Dahabshiil. The republic does not belong to Dahabshiil. Somaliland belongs to its people — and it is time its government proved it believes that.
About the Author
Ali-Guban Mohamed is a political analyst specializing in Horn of Africa politics and security, and the founder and editor of Gubanmedia.com, a site dedicated to news, analysis, and commentary on the region.
Disclaimer: The viewpoints expressed by the authors do not necessarily reflect the opinions, or viewpoints of Somaliland Chronicle, and its staff.
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