Quotes of the Day
In Somalia, even the dead don't rest in peace. Masked gunmen, allegedly in league with the powerful Islamic courts in Mogadishu, the capital, recently laid waste to an Italian colonial cemetery. After breaking open the tombs and pulling up the coffins, they dumped the human remains near the city's decrepit airport. The Militiamen now in control of the cemetery have begun to build a mosque there. The first to discover the desecration was a group of children who picked up bones and skulls and took them away as toys. Such horrors are all too common in Somalia. "For 14 years we have been living like this," says Dahir Ali Adow, 22, a student at Mogadishu University. "What we need is law and order to restore the peace."
Many Somalis, and plenty of Western leaders, had hoped the anarchy would end after the formation of a new government last October, the result of two years of talks in neighboring Kenya between warlords and Somali clan elders. The new leaders promised it would bring security and prosperity to their war-torn East African country and rein in the unelected cadres of businessmen and Islamic fundamentalists exploiting the chaos to extend their power bases. So far, though, President Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed and his government, led by Prime Minister Ali Mohammed Ghedi, haven't even made it home. Holed up in the Kenyan capital, Nairobi, many of the new Somali M.P.s — and even the new President himself — privately say they will not return without the protection of African Union (A.U.) troops. "It's sort of the Wild West there," says Colonel Craig Huddleston, Chief of Staff for the U.S.-led task force for East Africa. "Extremists of all flavors can feel relatively free to be themselves."
When the government does return — Ghedi has said he plans to visit Mogadishu in early February — the task it faces is huge. Civil war and the lack of an effective central government have left Somalia splintered into a mosaic of clan-based fiefdoms. Two mini-states in the north have broken away, though no country recognizes their independence. In the Mogadishu suburbs that sprawl around the devastated old quarter, donkey carts and machine gun-fitted pickups compete for passage on sand-swept streets. Militias still clash regularly and murders and kidnappings are common. Public infrastructure is almost nonexistent. Returning Somalia to its prewar status will take billions of dollars, according to Maxwell Gaylard, who heads up the United Nations' Somalia programs. "It's not total destruction, but something pretty close to it," he says.
The government-in-waiting in Nairobi has neither arms nor funds. When the Asian tsunami struck the country's Indian Ocean coast, ministers had to beg the United Nations to fly them in to survey the damage. But before they can begin rebuilding the country, they must face down the powerful Islamic courts and placate the businessmen. These groups form a powerful élite that has filled the vacuum left by the fading might of the warlords, who destroyed Mogadishu after Mohammed Siad Barre was ousted in 1991.
The most determined opposition will come from the Islamic courts. Started as small-scale operations set up by the city's clans, they gained influence when Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and other Islamic countries provided funding as part of a drive to promote Islam. Now the courts have become one of the city's most powerful political forces. For now, they are avoiding head-on confrontation with the government and have denied playing a role in the desecration of the Italian cemetery. But lately they've been flexing their muscles, banning New Year's celebrations and organizing protests against proposals to bring A.U. troops to the country. Court officials also play politics, reminding their compatriots that Yusuf Ahmed was among the first to take up arms against Siad Barre. "It's nonsense to throw out one dictator and replace him with another," says Sheikh Sharif Ahmed Mohamed, the head of the court system's umbrella group.
The Islamic courts oppose the deployment of A.U. troops to protect the incoming administration because they privately fear their own militias will be curtailed. Publicly, they warn that foreigners could compromise local morality. If foreign troops do come, predicts Sharif, "Military action will happen." Others seem to read the situation the same way. At his swearing in last October, Yusuf Ahmed called for at least 15,000 A.U. soldiers to be deployed; within days the price of a Russian-made AK-47 in Mogadishu's main market jumped from $300 to $400. "Nobody wants to be seen opposing the restoration of government," says Matt Bryden of the International Crisis Group. "But it's very easy to bang the drum and oppose a foreign intervention." Just last week, gunmen assassinated the acting chief of police in his own house. Officials interpret this as a warning against importing outside forces.
The U.S. military suspects Islamic extremists could be behind the killing. "They would certainly be at the top of my list, because the return of government to Somalia would make it much more difficult for extremists to operate," says Huddleston. In addition to homegrown militants, an East African al-Qaeda
affiliate is building a power base in Mogadishu, say U.S. sources.
Opposition from Islamic courts and militants is by no means the only challenge facing the new regime. It must also convince Somalia's entrepreneurs, many of whom control their own private armies, that government will be good for business. Cell-phone companies offer some of the lowest rates in the region,
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Another big threat comes from within. The 275 Members of Parliament were selected to balance the power of each clan and bring dissenters to the table. But the two-year-long talks concentrated on divvying up spoils rather than on reconciliation. The warlords, even those who are part of the new government, could still cause mayhem.
Support in Mogadishu for the government remains high, despite its shaky start. "Bad government is better than the lack of government," says Narifa Abdulhalim Mohammed, 28, an economics major at the university. The President may try to co-opt the Islamic courts by making them an independent judicial arm of government. And Somalia's businessmen will accept some taxation and regulation if they get stability in return. As long as the government stays united, even the warlords might play along. "If they see — one by one — that it's in their interest to stay inside the tent and point their guns out, then together they might have enough power to confront anybody who tries to stop this," says a Western diplomat in Nairobi.
Past attempts to bring government to Somalia have been less lucky. "My worst fear is of a very weak attempt and for this government to fail," says Ali Iman Sharmarke, the head of HornAfrik, an independent television and radio group. "And then the people — a hopeless society seeking law and order — will turn to [the Islamic courts] as an alternative."
- STEPHAN FARIS | Mogadishu
- With the government in exile in Kenya and the country ruled by rival clans, Somalia struggles to become a functioning state again