Inclusivity must protect citizens’ right to participate, not give every boycotting politician the power to halt the country.

Every time Somalia approaches an election, completes a constitutional reform or begins to recover from a political crisis, a familiar ritual returns. Several political leaders reject the process. Foreign embassies call for “inclusive dialogue.” The Federal Government is told to negotiate again, deadlines are pushed back, and the country is returned to the same political waiting room.

The language sounds reasonable. Somalia certainly needs dialogue, lawful government, and protection for political minorities. But an essential distinction has been lost:

Inclusion is the right to participate; it is not the right of every politician to prevent everyone else from proceeding.

This distinction matters because Somalia’s political system increasingly measures legitimacy by counting the leaders present at a conference rather than the citizens represented by the process. A regional president who refuses an invitation is treated as though an entire population has been deliberately excluded. Meanwhile, millions of citizens living in Mogadishu and across south-central Somalia are treated as politically invisible, even though their communities sustain the national government, participate in the federal system, and bear much of the country’s security and economic burden.

The citizens of these states are not empty chairs.

Using the regional estimates set out for this analysis, Banaadir has approximately 5 million residents; Lower Shabelle, 2.2 million; Middle Shabelle, 1.2 million; Bay, 3.5 million; Bakool, 1.2 million; and Galmudug, 800,000. Together, these estimates produce a population of about 13.9 million. Compared with the UN Population Fund’s 2025 estimate of 19.7 million people for Somalia, that would amount to roughly 70 percent of the national population.

These regional numbers are estimated population, not the results of a completed national census. Somalia’s National Bureau of Statistics has itself explained that the lack of current population and housing data has made evidence-based planning difficult. åsus results become available.

But uncertainty over the exact percentage does not erase the underlying democratic question. Whether the actual share is 60 percent, 70 percent or somewhat lower, these regions contain an enormous concentration of Somalia’s citizens, commercial activity and national institutions. A political process involving these communities cannot reasonably be dismissed as meaningless merely because several regional leaders choose not to participate.

Nor should “control” be used carelessly. The Federal Government does not exercise the same administrative or security controls across all districts in these regions. Some rural areas remain contested, and regional administrations possess their own constitutional responsibilities. The more defensible point is that these populations live in areas that participate in, cooperate with, or are governed by Somalia’s federal institutions. An empty chair cannot cancel their political weight in a conference room.

Mogadishu Gives the State Ground Beneath Its Feet

The Federal Government’s legal authority belongs to the Somali people as a whole. But its practical ability to function is supplied overwhelmingly by Mogadishu.

The capital hosts the presidency, Parliament, ministries, courts, security commands, diplomatic missions, the principal federal seaport and the country’s busiest airport. Its residents provide workers, businesses, tax revenue, recruits, land and the daily social consent that allows these institutions to operate. They also endure the consequences: terrorist attacks, road closures, checkpoints, disrupted commerce and the costs of accommodating displaced populations from across the country.

Mogadishu is therefore not merely the venue at which other Somali actors negotiate national power. It is a political constituency whose people make the republic’s operation possible.

That contribution does not entitle Mogadishu to dominate every region. It does, however, justify constitutionally protected consent over matters directly affecting the capital: its political status, elected leadership, municipal revenue, land, policing and local administration. Somalia’s 2026 constitutional amendments moved toward recognizing a capital assembly and representation for Banaadir. Still, implementation and the precise balance between local and federal authority remain decisive questions.

The principle is straightforward: Somalia belongs to all Somalis, but Mogadishu must no longer be governed as if it were property of the federal political class.

Federalism Does Not Require Unanimity

The strongest answer to Somalia’s political dispute is not unchecked majority rule. A numerical majority must not be permitted to strip smaller regions or communities of constitutional rights. But federalism does not mean that every regional administration receives a permanent veto over national policy.

A functioning federation balances two forms of legitimacy. The lower chamber represents citizens in proportion to their population. The upper chamber protects territorial and regional interests. Independent courts settle constitutional disputes. Elections allow citizens to replace leaders. None of these principles requires that every governor, regional president, or opposition candidate approve every national decision.

Somalia has instead developed an informal system in which the ability to create instability often produces more influence than population, taxation or electoral participation. A leader who participates receives one voice. A leader who boycotts, threatens confrontation or suspends relations with Mogadishu may receive international mediation, new negotiations and effective veto power.

That is a dangerous incentive. It teaches politicians that obstruction works.

Absence and Exclusion Are Not the Same

A credible political process must pass four tests. Participation must genuinely be open. The rules must be public, constitutional and applied equally. Citizens must have a meaningful opportunity to vote or be represented. There must be an independent mechanism for complaints and judicial review.

If a political actor is denied these protections, there is a legitimate case of exclusion. An invitation alone is not sufficient when rules have been secretly or unilaterally designed to guarantee a predetermined outcome.

But when fair participation is offered, rules are transparent and legal remedies are available, a leader who rejects the process has made a political choice. That is a boycott, not exclusion. The distinction is not semantic. Exclusion requires a remedy; a voluntary boycott requires political accountability.

Somalia cannot allow any leader to transform personal absence into ownership of the citizens he claims to represent. Residents of Puntland and Jubaland are Somali citizens with political rights of their own. They are not political property belonging to a regional president. The same standard applies to Mogadishu and every other part of the country.

The International Community Is Not a Third Chamber

Foreign partners have understandable reasons for emphasizing consensus. They fear that political disputes could divide the security forces, disrupt aid operations, or lead to armed confrontation. Somalia’s recent history gives those concerns real weight.

Nevertheless, diplomacy aimed at preventing immediate conflict can unintentionally damage long-term democracy. When every threat of a boycott produces another demand for “consensus,” foreign partners reward the political actors most capable of disruption. Citizens who register, vote, pay taxes and accept peaceful procedures receive less attention than politicians who threaten to derail them.

International partners should support Somali-led negotiations, electoral capacity and constitutional institutions. They should not operate as an unofficial third chamber capable of suspending a Somali process whenever a politically connected actor objects. Somalia’s legitimacy must come from its Constitution, voters, Parliament and courts—not from the number of diplomatic statements released in Nairobi or Mogadishu.

The proper approach is neither coercion nor endless negotiation. Somalia should establish a defined period for dialogue, publish the proposed rules, allow independent legal review and provide every region and political organization a genuine opportunity to participate. Once those conditions and deadlines have been satisfied, the process should proceed wherever lawful and practicable. The door to later participation can remain open; the road ahead cannot remain permanently closed.

Democracy Cannot Be Hostage to Absence.

Somalia is not a negotiation among a handful of political offices. It is a nation of nearly 20 million citizens. A durable settlement must protect regional autonomy and minority rights. Still, it must also respect population, participation, and the equal political value of every Somali citizen.

The question facing Somalia is therefore not whether dialogue is necessary. It is. The question is whether dialogue will guide democratic decision-making or replace it indefinitely.

No regional leader should be excluded. No community should be silenced. But no politician should gain greater power by walking away from the table than millions of citizens do by remaining in the country, supporting its institutions, and casting their votes.

Inclusion gives everyone a door through which to enter. It does not give every person standing outside the power to lock the building.

Mogadishu—long known as the “Pearl of the Indian Ocean”—is not merely the conference room of the Somali Republic. It is a living constituency, and its citizens must count.

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