The Great Betrayal: How Mustafa Omer Squandered a Historic Opportunity in the Somali Region

Editor’s note : Views in the article do not necessarily reflect the views of borkena.com

By Hassan Yusuf 

In the grand circus of Somali region politics, few performances have been as astonishing, ironic, and tragically comedic as Mustafa Omer’s transformation from a celebrated social activist to the embattled president of the Somali Region. When he took office in 2018, Mustafa was handed a golden opportunity—an opportunity that no Somali Regional leader before him had ever had. The people, exhausted by decades of repression under the brutal rule of Abdi Mohamoud Omar, widely known as Abdi Iley, welcomed Mustafe with cautious optimism, granting him the benefit of the doubt and time to prove himself. His rise coincided with the overthrow of the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) regime, which meant, for the first time in decades, the Somali Region was no longer under the direct rule of federal military commanders and the infamous Amharic-speaking Amakari intelligence operatives. For the first time in nearly a century, the region was free from both direct military occupation and active armed rebellion.

This was Mustafe’s moment to rewrite history, to transition the Somali Region from a war-torn land into a stable, self-governed, and economically thriving region. He inherited a rare clean slate, where no insurgency was threatening his administration and no external force was dictating his decisions. But rather than capitalizing on this once-in-a-generation opportunity, Mustafe Omer saw it as a personal fiefdom to consolidate power, sideline potential challengers, and engineer a return to the very authoritarianism he once claimed to oppose. Over time, his leadership has become defined not by reform or progress but by a cunning strategy of division and suppression, where he seeks to manufacture new enemies and conflicts to justify his increasingly authoritarian rule.

Perhaps the most dangerous of his recent moves is his quiet but deliberate attempt to push the Ogaden National Liberation Front (ONLF) back into armed resistance. This may sound counterintuitive, but for Mustafe, an active rebellion is a political gift. He knows that as long as the region remains peaceful, his mismanagement, corruption, and failed projects will remain the central political discussion. However, a revived armed struggle would provide a perfect distraction, allowing him to further centralize power, stifle opposition, and maintain control under the pretext of security concerns. His escalating hostility toward ONLF leaders, political harassment of former fighters, and divisive tactics within the movement are all calculated moves to provoke internal fractures and external aggression.

To understand Mustafe’s current approach, one must revisit how he rose to power. For years, he was an outspoken critic of Abdi Iley’s brutal regime, often using his social media presence to expose human rights violations and systemic corruption. His fiery rhetoric against the ruling party gained him a strong following among young Somalis, the diaspora, and intellectuals who viewed him as a fresh voice of resistance. His background as a former UN humanitarian worker gave him an aura of credibility; here was a man who had worked within international institutions, had seen governance from the inside, and was equipped with the tools to lead a new era of accountability and reform.

But the very system that Mustafe condemned was also the one that shaped him. When the EPRDF government collapsed, he was quickly installed as the Somali Region’s president—not through an election or a democratic transition, but through political appointment. His main qualification? His history as an opponent of Abdi Iley. The very institutions of repression remained intact; only the face of the leadership changed. And instead of dismantling the authoritarian structures that he once criticized, Mustafe learned to use them to his advantage.

As time went on, his leadership style became indistinguishable from the autocrats he replaced. He began sidelining opponents, silencing journalists, and cracking down on dissent. Critics who once supported him found themselves targeted by the very same tactics he had opposed. Political parties, including ONLF, were given nominal space to operate but were closely monitored, harassed, and weakened through internal divisions. The opposition quickly realized that Mustafe did not want a multi-party system; he wanted a rubber-stamp opposition that could be controlled and manipulated.

One of the most insidious strategies Mustafe has employed is the old colonial tactic of divide and rule. Understanding that a united Somali Region would pose a threat to his hold on power, he has actively pitted clans against each other, reviving historical grievances and ensuring that political alliances remain fragmented. Instead of fostering reconciliation and unity, he has encouraged competition and suspicion, making sure that no single group is strong enough to challenge his administration. This has led to an increase in inter-clan tensions, localized conflicts, and deepened mistrust among the people.

His divide-and-rule tactics have also extended to ONLF. The once-united front of Somali nationalism has been deliberately fractured, with Mustafe engineering internal rifts to weaken its political influence. He has strategically favored certain factions over others, promoting infighting and eroding the movement’s ability to function as a credible opposition. By doing so, he aims to push ONLF toward a position where its members see no political path forward—thus nudging them toward armed resistance. If ONLF were to take up arms again, Mustafe would have the perfect excuse to expand his authoritarian measures, justify crackdowns, and present himself as the only leader capable of maintaining “stability” in the region.

Beyond his political games, Mustafe’s administration has been a disaster in terms of governance. The Somali Region’s economy remains underdeveloped, infrastructure projects are either abandoned or riddled with corruption, and basic services like water and healthcare remain inaccessible to large segments of the population. The widely publicized Jigjiga water project is a prime example of how his government operates—big promises, grand ceremonies, but little to no actual progress. Millions were allocated to improve the city’s water supply, yet years later, the project remains incomplete, plagued by allegations of mismanagement and financial embezzlement.

The same pattern repeats across various sectors. Roads that were supposed to connect rural communities remain unfinished. Schools that were promised remain without teachers and materials. Hospitals that were meant to provide modern medical care stand as empty shells. And when confronted with these failures, Mustafe resorts to a familiar script—blaming external forces, downplaying the issues, or launching PR campaigns to distract from the glaring reality.

But the Somali people are not blind. They see through the illusion. The honeymoon period is over, and discontent is growing. The very people who once celebrated Mustafe as a revolutionary leader are now questioning whether he was ever committed to change or if he was simply another politician using reformist rhetoric to seize power. The region stands at a crossroads. Will Mustafe double down on his authoritarian path, further isolating opposition and deepening divisions? Or will he recognize that true leadership requires accountability, inclusivity, and genuine efforts toward development?

What is clear, however, is that history is watching. If Mustafe continues on his current trajectory, he will not be remembered as the leader who transformed the Somali Region. He will be remembered as the man who squandered an opportunity that generations before him could only dream of. He will be remembered as the reformist who became an illusionist, the activist who became the autocrat, and the leader who—when given a chance to change the course of history—chose power over progress.

The Somali Region does not need another strongman. It needs a statesman. The question now is whether Mustafe Omer is willing—or even capable—of becoming that leader. If he is not, then his legacy will be nothing more than a cautionary tale of wasted potential and shattered dreams.

Hassan Yusuf The writer can be reached at :  hyusufka@gmail.com

Editor’s Note : Views in the article do not necessarily reflect the views of borkena.com
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