As media-age flourishes, Somalia’s media withers 

The Somali media landscape is failing in its fundamental public duty to challenge power and through that keep citizens informed.  

After riots and protests that claimed the lives of more than 35 people, the Kenyan president, William Ruto, decided to hold a roundtable interview with the media. It was an unprecedented move, aimed at addressing both the nation and the protesters. He faced tough questions. Some of the questions were so probing that they made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes occasionally flicking towards the interviewers with a perturbed look. The legitimacy of his office and his history of broken promises were brought into sharp focus. From the first interaction, one of the interviewers, veteran Kenyan journalist Linus Kaikai, boldly asked the president, “do you have blood on your hands?” in reference to the staggering death toll of protesters. 

It was a historic moment for the country’s media, and, I would also argue, for the entire region and even the wider continent. It is hard to imagine an African president facing such tough questions. It was particularly inspiring to see African journalists asking daring questions without fear, bias, or prejudice. It demonstrated how the Kenyan press had matured enough to have the courage to call out a president who was acting contrary to his campaign promises. 

Ruto built a campaign that was arguably one of Kenya’s most successful in its long history. He crafted a political campaign from the bottom up, challenging the fixed ethnic politics that had long defined Kenyan elections. Against all odds, he galvanised huge support. His campaign—popularly termed “Hustler Nation”—managed to defeat two of the most prominent Kenyan elites: the former president, Uhuru Kenyatta, and the opposition leader, Raila Odinga, both hailing from dominant ethnic groups. Though Ruto managed to break with long held traditions in Kenyan ethno-politics in that sense, he failed to build an alternative to the one he challenged. Ken Opalo, associate professor at Georgetown University, writes: “It appears that all he sought to do was destroy the old system but lacked any plans to build something new. And now he is reaping the rewards of that oversight”. 

For President Ruto, the interview was nothing short of a disaster. Kenyan Senator Crystal Asige aptly termed it a “trainwreck of a conversation from start to finish that left the emperor naked.” Ruto’s performance was a far cry from the polished image he had projected during his campaign and during his visit to Washington. For the protesters, it offered a telling glimpse of a president who had campaigned on promises of change but had failed to deliver. This unmasking gave them an opportunity to continue their call for the president’s resignation. Demonstrators have been unwilling to accept his gestures, including the sacking of cabinet ministers.  

More importantly, it has shown the continent how daring media personalities can hold powerful politicians, who often enjoy impunity, accountable. 

Meanwhile, at a time when the Kenyan president faced such intense scrutiny, in another part of the world, CNN hosted a highly anticipated presidential debate between President Joe Biden and Donald Trump. This debate has become a hallmark moment in the run up to the more intense part of the presidential campaign. For Trump, it was a moment of triumph, bolstering his base and platform with his combative style, further strengthened by surviving an assassination attempt. This pivotal event seems to have all but secured him another term in office. For Biden, however, it was a disaster of epic proportions, a performance so fraught with missteps that it left many Democratic donors and strategists questioning his ability to effectively challenge Trump. Gavin Newsom, California’s governor and Gretchen Whitmer, Michigan’s governor are now flirting with the prospect of putting themselves forth as candidates. Biden stumbled through his responses, unable to give coherent answers to Dana Bash and Jake Tapper’s barrage of questions. That debate alone plunged President Biden and the Democratic Party into a quagmire of doubt.  

Soon after the debate, a wave of panic swept through American media, with pundits and analysts agitatedly dissecting the president’s performance and his cognitive ability. Headlines screamed about Biden’s blunders, and talk shows buzzed with speculation about the future of the Democratic campaign. Thomas Friedman, a key voice in the liberal establishment, made his own desperate plea in the New York Times telling Biden “he must bow out of the race”. Whilst many news organisations had been warning about Biden’s age for a long time, when key parts finally realised he was a no-go, they jerked back. David Sirota, editor-in-chief of The Lever, said the liberal media “worships power.” It took the threat of losing that to get them working, but now their volte-face is imperilling Biden’s doomed bid for the presidency. 

Dear reader, this is the epitome of journalism at its finest. In both cases, we see the media performing its fundamental duty: holding those in power and those who aspire to power accountable to the public, asking them tough questions about their competence and promises. However, I cannot say the same about Somali media. In my view, our media has failed spectacularly to fulfil its role. What we see in our media is incompetence on steroids, a stark reminder of the need for the vigilant watchdogs of democracy that we so desperately require. 

To understand Somali media, one only needs to glance at the daily publications of the top outlets. Observing popular TV channels like MMtv and Universal TV reveals much about the state of our media. These channels are household names among Somalis. Universal TV, one of the first multimedia outlets in the country, has a long history, while MMtv, established more recently, quickly climbed to the top. Despite their different backgrounds, they share the distinction of being the most followed media outlets on social media, particularly on Facebook. Their publications provide a clear snapshot of the current media landscape. 

Visiting their Facebook pages, you are instantly bombarded with a flood of videos featuring politicians, each accompanied by sensational headlines that offer little more than a superficial glimpse of events. Disappointingly, the same uninspired headlines are plastered across their pages. The videos are bland and uninformative, failing to provide any substantive context or analysis. 

Their websites are no different. For instance, Universal TV’s site is a sea of headlines with no sections for commentary, expert opinions, or in-depth articles. This issue is not unique to Universal or MMtv but is common across major media outlets in the country. It’s just headline after headline, quote after quote. 

Rarely do Somali media publish any in-depth coverage of the multitude of challenges facing Somalis. They seldom address the damning corruption that has crippled the country or the deeply rooted socio-cultural issues. In Somalia, the lack of critical journalism is remarkably conspicuous. That vacuum has led to the rise of two new elements that present their own series of challenges.  

First, the rise of citizen journalism—a slippery term—has crept into the Somali media landscape. While the rise of populism, media scepticism, and right-wing movements have undermined trust in media globally, in Somalia, this issue is even more precarious. The lack of serious journalism among traditional media outlets have set a dangerous precedent. Social media platforms have become breeding grounds for misinformation and disinformation, where a few individuals can reach millions and have far more impact than traditional media. This new media wave, which often lacks the rigorous standards and ethical guidelines of professional journalism, has created an even more polarised discourse. People are exposed to unchecked facts and biased narratives. TikTok has presented a challenge for all major countries as people rely on it increasingly for information but in Somalia that tendency isn’t checked by a robust native media. The most prominent journalists tend to live outside the country.  

Second, this media vacuum has allowed our political class to enjoy impunity. Somali politicians rarely face media scrutiny, enabling them to run the country without much accountability. Unfortunately, this has led to a society complicit in its own demise, where the abnormal has become normalised. Corruption has become institutionalised, infiltrating every level of government and public service. The lack of media oversight means that corrupt practices go unchallenged, and those who should be held accountable continue their misgovernance without fear of repercussions. Furthermore, the exploitation of tribalism and clan hatred by the political class has reached alarming levels. 

This raises a legitimate question: What is the role of the media in our country, and what is its impact on society? The primary function of the media is to act as a watchdog, holding politicians and elected leaders accountable. Media shapes public discourse and influences the narrative around important issues. It is supposed to inform the public, providing accurate, timely, and comprehensive insights. However, I fear these guiding principles of journalism are lacking in contemporary Somali media. Does our media focus on profit rather than informing the public? Are they more interested in business gains than in holding political oligarchs accountable? 

“A newspaper has two sides to it. It is a business, like any other, and has to pay in the material sense in order to live. But it is much more than a business; it is an institution; it reflects and influences the life of a whole community; it may affect even wider destinies,” writes C.P. Scott, editor of The Manchester Guardian, now The Guardian. On one side, a newspaper—or, if I may expand the scope, any media—is a business that must generate revenue to cover operational costs and ensure its financial sustainability. Like any other business, it needs to maintain profitability to continue operating. This is a simple fact and common sense, there’s no question about that. 

However, as Scott argued, and with which I wholeheartedly agree, a newspaper is much more than a mere business. It serves as an institution that influences and shapes the life of the community it serves through honesty, integrity, and professionalism, which build trust. Its influence extends beyond simple information dissemination; when conducted properly, it can educate, inspire, and mobilise people, potentially impacting societal norms and behaviours. 

Moreover, it can “affect even wider destinies” by playing a crucial role in the functioning of democracy. It acts as an instrument of power by holding those in power accountable, exposing corruption, and ensuring transparency. Without a functioning and competent media, our country risks sliding into uncharted territory—the kind of territory in which we already find ourselves. The only missing piece of the puzzle in our nascent democratic process is independent and serious media. 

Balancing the business side and the institutional aspect of Somali media while ensuring their independence is undoubtedly challenging in Somalia, given the multitude of daily challenges faced by media personnel. Arbitrary arrests, violations of journalists’ rights to report, and even killings are commonplace. Somali journalists are frequently detained without criminal warrants, simply for fulfilling their professional duties. These arrests often happen without due process, leaving journalists languishing in jail for extended periods without formal charges or trials. To choose this career path and taking it seriously demands courage in Somalia.  

It's noteworthy that the notion of challenging political elites is not alien to Somali journalists. In 1972, during the military rule, the veteran journalist Abdillahi Hajji went to Somalia for a working visit. He wasn’t expecting to arrive in the country at the same time as the infamous execution of three generals: General Mohamed Aynaanshe, General Salaad Gabeyre, and Colonel Abdulkadir Dheel Abdulle, who were accused by the dictatorial regime of plotting a coup against the “Kacaan government” (revolution government). “I did not expect officers to be executed, the Somali language to be written, or Somalia joining the Arab League,” Hajji recalls. 

He also narrated how unsettling the environment was at that time. If senior generals were being executed what hope did a journalist have. Mohamed Haji Ingriis wrote the following in his book, citing the work of one of the witnesses from that day, who happened to be a medical doctor: “Masked soldiers pushed the prisoners and bound them to the poles of death. They put a red cloth over each prisoner’s head. The firing squad got its orders for action. The thunder of different rifles echoed.” 

Ingriis later described that day on X, formerly Twitter: “The elders and intellectuals (men and women) I interviewed in Mogadishu vividly recounted that it was like doomsday for the capital city on 3 July 1972, when Siad Barre executed General Mohamed Aynaanshe, General Salaad Gabeyre, and Colonel Abdulkadir Dheel Abdulle.” 

However, that didn't deter Hajji from making an audacious move by asking the autocratic ruler, Siad Barre, two questions. “The Somali people are not accustomed to military rule. When will you transfer power and hand it over to the civilian population?” he asked, adding: “Recently, you executed three officers. Why did you kill those men?” 

What we're missing in contemporary Somali media are two essential elements, which are the cornerstone of functioning and democratic media that challenges the power structure. One is the principled courage of journalists like Abdillahi Hajji, who are willing to speak truth to power, even when it’s unpopular or difficult. The other is independence, not just from political and power influences but also from financial interests, allowing media outlets to operate freely and make decisions based on the interest of the wider public, rather than being beholden to the interests of the political class or other special interests. 

Scott reminds us again: “one of the virtues, perhaps almost the chief virtue, of a newspaper is its independence.” This independence ensures that the media’s content remains trustworthy and credible, helping to maintain public confidence. Furthermore, independence protects the media and fosters an environment in which they can conduct fearless investigative journalism, serving as watchdogs for democracy and social justice. However, the extent of our media’s financial independence remains uncertain; that remains a mystery to the public. 

However, one thing should remain clear to both the media and Somalis: in the contemporary world, where information has become the most crucial instrument for political and socio-cultural change, their role is indispensable. Without it, Somalia and Somalis in general will remain in ruins indefinitely. The emerging democracy across the country will be at risk, political elites will continue to act with impunity, and corruption will persist. Human rights abuses and abuses of power will not diminish unless Somali media recognise their pivotal role in holding the country accountable, advancing democracy, and keeping the public informed through fearless, independent journalism. Instead of merely portraying politicians positively, Somali media outlets should prioritise investing in rigorous journalism. This is how the media can genuinely contribute to societal progress and uphold democratic principles.