On Boxing Day 2006, Ethiopian troops, endorsed by the United States, rolled into Mogadishu. Their intervention, aimed at crushing the Islamic Courts Union (ICU) and installing “a weak, decentralised client state … willing to settle for ongoing state collapse rather than risk a revived Arab-backed government in Mogadishu”, shattered a fragile moment of order and birthed the regional jihadist monster known as Al-Shabaab.

Nineteen years later to the day, another seismic shock struck the Horn of Africa. Israel’s recognition of the secessionist region of Somaliland has been met with vehement repudiation from Somalia, the African Union, the Arab League, the EU and the United Nations Security Council. The diplomatic crisis is evident. The impending security catastrophe is being perilously disregarded.

History is not merely rhyming; it is preparing to repeat its most violent verse. In Somalia, clans, not the state, control territory. Somaliland claims the territory of British protectorates, including Isaaq, Gadabursi, Issa, and Daarood Harti clans. Ironically, Somaliland does not control the eastern part, which is part of the Federal Government and known as the Northeastern State of Somalia. Most Gadabursi and Issa populations want to join Somalia. The western region, called Awdal, is named after the Adel state led by Ahmed Gurey, who conquered current Ethiopia. Gurey’s legacy, documented in the 16th-century chronicle Futuh Al-Habasha, remains a potent symbol that can be invoked to frame modern conflicts as a timeless religious struggle. The eastern region traces back to Dervishes who fought colonial powers: the British, Ethiopia and Italy, making Somalia the first African country to be bombed from the air. It is into this deeply fractured and historically charged arena that Israel has now intervened.

Israel’s move, driven by its own strategic needs to attack the Houthis and because Somaliland agreed to relocate Gazans, recreates the exact toxic conditions of 2006: a controversial foreign power colluding with a local faction, fracturing Somali politics and alienating its population. The result will be the same: a devastating empowerment of Al-Shabaab and a bloody spillover of conflict into the fragile states of the region, particularly Ethiopia.

The 2006 blueprint: the nationalist bridge to Jihad

To understand the future, we must confront the past. In mid-2006, the ICU had done the unthinkable in Mogadishu: it restored security. “The Courts achieved the unthinkable, uniting Mogadishu for the first time in 16 years, and re-establishing peace and security.” People walked the streets free from the tyranny of warlord checkpoints. This stability, born—though not exclusively—of a conservative brand of Salafist rule, was broadly popular and framed in terms of Somali nationalism and sovereignty.

The Ethiopian invasion, blessed by the US as part of the War on Terror, shattered this. It was justified as a mission to remove a terrorist threat, but its effect was to turn a domestic political entity into a cause for resistance. Critically, the intervention itself transformed the ideological landscape. The ICU’s initial platform was not one of global jihad. However, the foreign invasion provided the catalyst for a fateful pivot. Sufi-oriented scholars within the ICU, like Sheikh Abdulqadir Ali Omar, saw their nightly, soft-spoken radio sermons shift from governance to an explicit call for defensive jihad—a direct and radicalising response to the US-backed Ethiopian incursion. This created a bridge: first, a legitimate nationalist grievance against foreign occupation, which was then channelled into a religiously framed conflict. The US and Ethiopia justified their actions mainly by viewing the ICU as a potential threat to their security interests. The subsequent statistics tell the story of the brutal blowback that followed: over 16,000 civilian deaths, 30,000 wounded, and 1.3 million displaced. From this cauldron, Al-Shabaab emerged, mastering the fusion of Somali as “nationalist as well as a transnationalist.”

 The 2025 catalyst: laying the nationalist plank

Fast forward to the present. Israel’s recognition of Somaliland is not an act of altruistic diplomacy. Israeli sources frame it as a strategic necessity: to secure the Red Sea from Houthi attacks and to relocate Palestinians from Gaza, potentially. For the isolated Somaliland elite, it is a desperate, decades-long quest for recognition, finally answered by a powerful but deeply controversial partner.

The dynamic mirrors 2006 with chilling precision, and the ideological playbook is already in motion. Just as the Somali Transitional Federal Government (TFG) was seen as a puppet of Addis Ababa, the Somaliland administration will now be painted—across Somalia and much of the Islamic world—as a client of Tel Aviv. We are witnessing the critical first phase of the 2006 replay: the construction of the nationalist grievance. Following the Boxing Day recognition, Sheikh Adan Sunni, a high-ranking member of Al-Shabaab’s leadership and originally from Hargeisa, issued a warning statement. Significantly, its tone was not initially one of fiery jihad, but of Somali nationalism—a deliberate framing to attract, recruit, and lead broader Somali opposition to what is framed as a Zionist-abetted betrayal of Somali unity. This is the essential first step. It lays the nationalist plank over which the jihadist march will later travel. The group’s narrative is being carefully set to defend the Somali nation under the Islamic banner. The near-universal condemnation from the UN, EU, AU and Arab League validates this nationalist framing, ensuring the crisis creates a vast pool of alienated Somalis from which Al-Shabaab can recruit. While rooted in Somaliland’s understandable, decades-long pursuit of sovereignty, this partnership with Israel comes at a catastrophic cost to regional stability.

The permeable border: from “don’t ask, don’t tell” to open door

Critically, this crisis will rupture a delicate, existing balance. While many Somalis allege direct ties between Somaliland elites and Al-Shabaab families, the more accurate relationship has been a pragmatic, “don’t ask, don’t tell” coexistence. My own research in the region confirms this permeability.

In one telling encounter, a former MP and international consultant described being in a mosque during a Friday sermon in Harageisa and realising the man a few feet away was Ibrahim Mecaad, aka “Ibrahim Afghan,” a notorious Al-Shabaab facilitator. “When he realised, I recognised him, he left the mosque,” the former MP told me. This anecdote reveals a stark truth: Al-Shabaab elements have moved in spaces where official Somaliland authority is tacitly ignored.

A full-blown political and military crisis over recognition will destroy this fragile understanding. Somaliland’s security forces will be stretched thin as they defend a new, contested international status. Internal opposition will flare. In the resulting chaos and governance vacuum, Al-Shabaab will not just slip through—it will march in, positioning itself as the true defender of Somali unity. Sheikh Adan Sunni’s nationalist framing is the recruitment poster; the coming conflict will be the training ground where that nationalism is hardened into jihad.

The spillover: lighting Ethiopia’s eastern front

The fallout will not be contained within Somalia’s colonial borders. Al-Shabaab has long coveted access to Ethiopia, viewing it as a key frontier. A revitalised Al-Shabaab, armed with a potent new nationalist cause and a burgeoning recruitment drive in the north, will direct its energised forces eastward.

Ethiopia, beset by internal rebellions, drought, and deep ethnic fractures, is a tinderbox. A confident Al-Shabaab, now leading a cause that resonates from Bu’aale (Al-Shabaab’s headquarters) to the Bali region of Oromia, will be the spark. The group’s prayers for access to eastern Ethiopia will have been granted. The conflict will metastasise from a Somali civil dispute into a direct assault on the stability of Africa’s second-most populous nation, with catastrophic humanitarian consequences for the entire Horn.

Conclusion: a predictable catastrophe, phase by phase

The script for this disaster is being followed, phase by phase. We have seen this film before: foreign intervention, local clientism, nationalist grievance, ideological pivot, militant backlash, and regional conflagration. Sheikh Abdullahi Ali Omar’s call in 2006 and Sheikh Adan Sunni’s nationalist framing in 2025 are not disconnected events. They are Act I, Scene I of the same tragedy—the deliberate construction of a popular, defensive platform that will be used to legitimise and fuel the coming jihad. In seeking tactical advantages in the Red Sea and Gaza, Israel is not just altering a map; it is activating a deadly radicalisation algorithm with known outputs.

The international community, currently focused on diplomatic outrage, must look ahead. It must see the looming security nightmare and act decisively to de-escalate this recognition gambit. To ignore the lessons of Boxing Day 2006 is to guarantee a future of bloodshed that will dwarf the horrors of the past. The alternative is to watch, again, as a geopolitical calculation births a generation of terror. The lessons of 2006 are not just history; they are a blueprint for the disaster now being assembled.Email