In a political maneuver that has shaken Somaliland’s post-election landscape, former President Muse Bihi Abdi is staging a calculated return—not as a reformer, but as a power-seeker unwilling to relinquish control. Following his 2024 defeat to Dr. Abdirahman Mohamed Abdillahi “Irro,” Muse is now attempting to reassert himself as Kulmiye’s future presidential candidate by overtly consolidating power within the party. This is no subtle operation—his moves are deliberate, visible, and unrepentant. Rather than championing democratic reform or fostering a competitive leadership transition, he is advancing the candidacy of Mohamed Farah, an unpopular junior academic from the Sahil region, widely perceived as a political puppet, to assume the role of party chairman—cementing Muse’s grip from the shadows while projecting a façade of change.
Mohamed Farah, currently serving as Executive Director of the Academy for Peace and Development (APD), was once entrusted with leading one of Somaliland’s most respected and impartial institutions. However, his tenure has been widely criticized as a failure, attributed largely to his unwavering, partisan loyalty to Muse Bihi. Under his leadership, APD lost its credibility, neutrality, and public trust—reduced now to little more than a name. If he could not preserve the integrity of a non-political institution built to promote dialogue and national cohesion, expectations for his leadership of a fractured political party are not just low—they are non-existent. Even more troubling, Farah has never belonged to Kulmiye’s files and ranks. His abrupt promotion to the party’s highest seat is viewed as illegitimate—politically, legally, and ethically. His sole qualification appears to be blind allegiance, making his candidacy not just divisive, but dangerously destabilizing. His appointment would signal not only reform, but deepening dysfunctions.
This setup is designed to eliminate internal opposition and entrench Muse as the central figure in the party’s future.
Silencing Old Guards: The Political Dismissal of Colonel Kahin
At the heart of this maneuver lies Muse’s decision to discard Colonel Mohamed Kahin, the current Chairman of Kulmiye and a hopeful contender for the party’s presidential candidacy. A longtime confidant—and Muse’s former rubber-stamp Minister of Internal Security—Kahin served as both enabler and political shield for over four decades. The two were once inseparable, forming a strategic axis that was foundational to Kulmiye’s rise and dominance. Despite Colonel Mohamed Kahin’s central role in building and leading Kulmiye, his abrupt removal from the party’s leadership signals a cold, calculated purge—engineered by Muse Bihi to eliminate internal rivals and pave the way for his own political comeback.
By installing a compliant chairman, Muse creates an echo chamber within Kulmiye, silencing seasoned voices while concentrating decision-making in his own hands. The approach may be tactically clever, but it has deepened factional divides and eroded trust within the party’s old guard.
The Jeegaan Dilemma: A Pact on the Verge of Collapse
The most delicate issue Muse faces is not political mechanics—but historical allegiance. Kulmiye was co-founded through a strategic alliance between Habar Awal and Habar Jeclo, whose coalition—popularly known as the Jeegaan (Rainbow Alliance)—was designed to embody inclusivity, unity, and shared ownership. This cross-clan pact gave Kulmiye its former national stature and enduring electoral strength.
Today, that alliance is under serious strain. Senior figures aligned with Colonel Kahin, particularly from the co-founding bloc, perceive Muse’s actions as a betrayal of the party’s founding principles. They do not see themselves as peripheral actors, but as original architects and equal partners in the party’s rise. Muse’s attempt to consolidate control within his immediate political base—while marginalizing longstanding allies—is widely viewed as a breach of trust and a dismantling of the foundational covenant.
If this internal fracture continues to deepen, the Jeegaan alliance may collapse altogether—reducing Kulmiye to a narrowly defined faction and stripping it of the national legitimacy it once proudly claimed.
Leader Without a Coalition: The Disoriented Inner Circle
The fallout from Muse Bihi’s internal takeover has left Kulmiye’s senior leadership not just politically disoriented—but largely discredited. Figures such as Abdirahman Soltelco and Abdi-Aziz Mohamed Samaale have failed to offer any credible vision or alternative path forward. Lacking both cohesion and moral authority, they now appear as passive spectators in Muse’s political theater—unable, unwilling, or unqualified to contest his dominance.
Soltelco’s name remains stained in the public memory as arguably the most corrupt mayor Hargeisa has ever seen—a man entrusted with the capital’s governance who turned it into a symbol of inefficiency, mismanagement, and backroom deals. His legacy is not one of leadership but of urban decay and lost public trust.
Samaale, meanwhile, is widely remembered as one of the most nepotistic and incompetent finance ministers in Somaliland’s history, dating back to the Silanyo era. His leadership was defined not by fiscal reform or economic planning, but by patronage networks, corruption, favoritism, and bureaucratic dysfunction. Today, he remains lost in political confusion—fighting irrelevant battles and unknowingly strengthening the very forces that undermine him.
Abdiweli Sheikh Abdillahi, the former Minister of Information & Communication Technology, however, stands out as a notable exception. As a relatively young and energetic politician with a formidable grassroots base in Gabiley—where he has consistently secured over 50,000 votes—he represents a rare blend of popularity and promise within the party. Yet, despite his credentials, Abdiweli has been sidelined by Muse’s exclusionary politics, a reflection of internal power dynamics rather than any deficiency in leadership potential.
In truth, while Abdiweli Sheikh shows promise, the rest of Kulmiye’s senior figures lack the credibility, clarity, or constituency needed to mount a serious challenge to Muse. It is their collective weakness—not Muse’s strength—that explains his continued dominance.
Until credible challengers emerge, Muse remains the sole architect of Kulmiye’s future—no matter how self-serving that future may be.
Collapse or Reinvention: Four Future Scenarios
Kulmiye now stands at a political crossroads. Four outcomes are possible:
- Collapse Scenario: The party follows the fate of UDUB, unraveling under factionalism and clan monopolization, and becoming irrelevant on the national stage. Without credible leadership renewal or broad-based support, Kulmiye risks fading into political history.
- Compromise Scenario: A negotiated leadership balance emerges—perhaps with a credible figure such as Abdiweli Sheikh appointed as party chairman, and Colonel Mohamed Kahin endorsed as the presidential candidate. This arrangement would restore the traditional power-sharing formula between Kulmiye’s founding constituencies and offer a chance to rebuild internal trust and organizational unity. Though not without its imperfections, this scenario remains the most viable and stabilizing path forward—capable of preserving internal equilibrium, honoring founding commitments, and reestablishing Kulmiye as a political force.
- Capture Scenario: Muse Bihi succeeds in installing Mohamed Farah, a political outsider and his loyalist, as party chairman and reclaims the presidential candidacy for himself. Farah’s candidacy is deeply controversial—he is not only external to Kulmiye’s political ranks but also widely discredited for having dismantled the neutrality and credibility of the once-respected Center for Peace and Development (CPD), which he turned into a partisan vessel for Muse’s agenda. His elevation would not only deepen the crisis within Kulmiye but also symbolize its institutional collapse.
- Facade of Inclusion Scenario: Muse eliminates Colonel Kahin from the leadership structure and appoints a new chairman from his own Habar Awal constituency, while promoting a presidential candidate from the Awdal region to manufacture an illusion of inclusivity. Though this setup may appear balanced on the surface, it is widely interpreted as a calculated scheme to consolidate real power within Muse’s faction—using the Awdal figure as a symbolic placeholder. In practice, this maneuver would deepen internal fractures, marginalize the party’s co-founders—especially Kahin’s loyal Habar Jeclo base—and hasten Kulmiye’s political disintegration. Far from rescuing the party, it would serve as a final ticket to failure, mirroring the collapse of the once-dominant UDUB and sealing Kulmiye’s fate as a party in irreversible decline.
Taken together, these four scenarios reveal a party on the brink—torn between collapse and reinvention. At best, Kulmiye’s survival hinges on a rare moment of political maturity: one that recognizes the value of internal balance, credibility, and renewal. Yet, all indicators suggest the dominance of self-interest, clan monopolization, and authoritarian impulses. If Kulmiye continues on this trajectory, driven by Muse Bihi’s personal ambitions and the manipulation of loyalist figures, it will not only betray its founding vision but also render itself obsolete in the eyes of an increasingly disillusioned public. The window for reform is closing fast, and without bold, inclusive leadership, Kulmiye’s legacy may be remembered not for its rise to power—but for its spectacular fall.
National Consequences: A Dangerous Legacy
The implications of Muse’s maneuvering extend far beyond Kulmiye. His previous administration left Somaliland with deep structural wounds—social fragmentation, nepotism, economic instability, civil unrest, and diplomatic isolation. These are not distant memories; they are the active burdens inherited by the Wadani-led government under President Irro.
To allow the same leadership model, same ideology, and same elite circle to return under the Kulmiye banner would be a disservice to national healing and democratic development. Somaliland cannot afford to recycle the politics that once pushed it toward internal strife.
Given their notorious and disastrous leadership, and the deep scars they left on Somaliland’s political, economic, and social fabric, neither Muse Bihi nor Colonel Mohamed Kahin should be allowed to continue holding influence in national party politics. Their return would not signify renewal but regression. Rather than vying for power, they deserve accountability—and, in any healthy democracy, would face impeachment or formal political censure for the long-term damage they have caused.
Can National Leadership Promote a Healthy Political Landscape?
A broader question emerges: Does Somaliland’s national leadership—across all institutions—have a stake in encouraging a healthy, functional opposition?
While respecting party independence and the boundaries of democratic competition, many believe that safeguarding multiparty democracy requires more than silence. Stability is reinforced when opposition parties remain credible, pluralistic, and nationally representative. The fragmentation or capture of Kulmiye by narrow interests could weaken the entire political system. Encouraging political renewal and institutional balance—through moral leadership, not interference—may serve the long-term interest of the Republic.
Conclusion: The Last Gamble or the Last Stand?
Muse Bihi’s return is not a renaissance—it is a final gamble. Whether it results in successful consolidation or a political miscalculation depends not on his maneuvering alone, but on the will of Kulmiye’s rank and file to reclaim the party’s founding vision.
If the founding coalition fractures—and if younger, reform-minded voices remain sidelined—Kulmiye risks becoming a relic of the past: remembered for its contributions, but irrelevant to the future.
Somaliland deserves a political culture that is inclusive, forward-looking, and anchored in national interest—not personal power. Whether Kulmiye can evolve to meet that challenge or collapse under the weight of its internal contradictions will define not only its legacy, but also shape the broader trajectory of Somaliland’s democratic experiment.
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