Pens for hire: A eulogy for Somali political literature

Somali political authors are too hagiographic in their writing on our leaders, and embolden their most authoritarian instincts 

Within the Somali literary sphere, there has recently been an uncanny revelation gaining traction. We have entered a literary epoch of unprecedented bowing, scraping, and sycophancy, where literary connoisseurs compete publicly to massage the egos of their flattery-addicted political class. Instead of leveraging their literary prowess to challenge societal injustices, disrupt the status quo, or expose the underbellies of demagogues, they choose to lavish undue praise on leaders. This practice, often driven by monetary gain or the desire for favour, represents a profound misuse of literature. It aligns neither with the ethos of Oscar Wilde, who championed the concept of art for art’s sake, nor with the philosophy of George Orwell, who wielded his literature as a tool for accountability. Rather than serving as a lighthouse for social change, their works become instruments of sycophancy and flattery.  

The misuse of literature in this manner not only undermines the integrity of the literary profession but also deprives society of a crucial tool for reflection and reform. It compromises the didactic role of authentic literature, leading to a formidable decline in our rich literary history. True literature should strive to expose social evils, provoke critical thought, and inspire positive change. By succumbing to the allure of financial gain, writers begin to distract and betray their craft, contributing to the perpetuation of the very injustices they should oppose. This results in praised demagogues developing an “everyone must sneeze when I cough” mentality, tightening the grip of dictatorship, maladroitness, and total ineptitude. 

Let me take you on a mental tour through history. During the regime of Siad Barre, literary juggernauts like Hadrawi (Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame) and Gaariye (Mohamed Hashi Dama) played critical roles in resisting his dictatorship through their powerful poetry. 

Hadrawi, often referred to as the “Somali Shakespeare”, used his poetic prowess to criticise Barre’s regime and advocate for social justice. One of his notable works, “Siinley,” is a scathing critique of the regime’s oppression and corruption. Through vivid imagery and profound metaphors, Hadrawi highlighted the suffering of the Somali people and called for unity and resistance against tyranny. The works of these poets were not just artistic expressions but also acts of resistance. Their poems were recited at public gatherings, spreading messages of defiance and hope. Despite the risks, they continued to write and speak out, inspiring many to stand against the dictatorship. 

A noteworthy didactic poem of his is titled; “Hal la qalay raqdeedi” loosely translated as A Slaughtered She Camel: 

I’ll keep rallying and calling  

until the Day of Judgment,   

pray my cries can comfort the dead:  

tie me to this task, and don’t   

release me from its harness.  

Gaariye was another prominent poet who bravely opposed Barre’s dictatorship. His poem “Hagarlaawe” (The Merciless One) is a poignant condemnation of the regime’s brutality. Gaariye’s poetry often blended traditional Somali poetic forms with contemporary political themes, making his work both culturally resonant and politically impactful. 

Notably, throughout history, literature has served as a potent tool for challenging authority and advocating for social change. From sharp critiques of corrupt governments to passionate calls for human rights, authors have used their pens to illuminate injustices and inspire action. For instance, in my own country, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, the prolific Kenyan playwright and novelist, is a striking example of this. Ngũgĩ disrupted the prevailing dictatorship of President Moi. One of his notable works, “Petals of Blood,” published in 1977, stands as a powerful critique of post-independence Kenya, sharply targeting the corruption and failures of the ruling elite. The novel is set in the fictional village of Ilmorog and follows the lives of four main characters: Munira, Karega, Wanja, and Abdulla. Through their personal struggles and interactions, Ngũgĩ delves into broader societal issues plaguing Kenya, such as the betrayal of the ideals of the Mau Mau rebellion, land dispossession, and the exploitation of the common people by a self-serving political class. 

Ngũgĩ portrays the disillusionment felt by many Kenyans who had high hopes for their country’s future after gaining independence from British colonial rule. Instead of the promised prosperity and justice, they faced rampant corruption and inequality perpetuated by their own leaders. The novel’s characters grapple with these harsh realities, revealing a deep sense of betrayal and the continuing struggle for true liberation. 

Furthermore, the publication of “Petals of Blood” had immediate and far-reaching consequences for Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o. The Kenyan government, uneasy with his sharp criticism and the novel’s revolutionary undertones, took drastic measures to silence him. In December 1977, Ngũgĩ was arrested and detained without trial at Kamiti Maximum Security Prison. His imprisonment lasted over a year and was a clear response to his outspoken denunciation of the government’s corrupt practices and his involvement in politically charged community theatre. 

Ngũgĩ's ordeal did not end with his release in 1978. Continued harassment and threats from the government forced him into self-imposed exile in 1982. Ngũgĩ spent over two decades abroad, during which time he continued to write and advocate for political reform and social justice in Kenya. His time in exile only solidified his role as a leading voice against oppression and injustice. 

Despite the government’s efforts to suppress his voice, “Petals of Blood” has had a lasting impact on Kenyan literature and political discourse. The novel remains a potent reminder of the unfulfilled promises of independence and the ongoing need for vigilance against corruption and tyranny. It has inspired countless writers, activists, and ordinary citizens to continue the fight for a fairer, more equitable society.  

If we turn the pages of history, “Animal Farm” by George Orwell is a textbook example of genuine literature. This allegorical novella satirises the corruption of socialist ideals in the Soviet Union. By depicting the rise of a tyrannical regime among farm animals, Orwell critiques the betrayal of revolutionary promises and the emergence of a new oppressive elite. 

The above literary writers are just a tip of an iceberg; there’s a whole heap of writers across literary movements who are ostensibly known for their pivotal role of fighting ineptitude through the power of the pen. By confronting societal wrongs and offering new perspectives, these artists majorly contributed to the collective consciousness and drove progress.  

Unfortunately of late–in the context of Somali literature–the phenomena of sucking up and uncanny sycophancy have gained momentum. There are crops of pseudo-writers who have reduced the literary landscape into an enclave of monetary gains and flattery. They have mastered the art of ass-licking to demagogic mis-leaders masquerading to be leaders.   

Unfortunately of late–in the context of Somali literature–the phenomena of sucking up and uncanny sycophancy have gained momentum. There are crops of pseudo-writers who have reduced the literary landscape into an enclave of monetary gains and flattery. They have mastered the art of ass-licking to demagogic mis-leaders masquerading to be leaders.   

Corpus literature has been written to praise warlords whose thirst for power grows day by day. These warlords now head the federal states of Somalia, including, but not limited to, Ahmed Madobe, Said Abdullahi Deni of Puntland; Laftagareen of South West State. Examples include Jamaal Ibrahim Ahmed’s “Jowharkii Jubbada” (The Jewel of Jubba) about Ahmed Madobe; “Tabantaabshe” (Champion) by Mohammed Nur Hassan about Laftagareen; and Gu’gii Qoor Qoor by Shamso Cabdulaahi. These books are all hagiographic in tone and content.  

The individuals about whom laudatory books have been written are nothing but warlord demagogues whose expertise lies solely in pitting clans against each other.  

Leaders who engage in such demagoguery risk perpetuating a cycle of corruption and repression. Such works can create an illusion of legitimacy and support for leaders who might otherwise be held accountable for their actions. This not only distorts the public’s understanding of reality but also undermines the next generation, who are left to read pure charlatanry. 

Praising demagogic leaders in literature can have far-reaching and detrimental effects on society. When authors elevate such figures through their writing, they contribute to the normalisation and entrenchment of authoritarianism. By praising these demagogues, writers inadvertently become complicit in the very injustices they should be combating. Literature should serve as a mirror reflecting society’s flaws, not as a tool to obscure them. Somali authors, therefore, have a critical role to play in resisting the allure of sycophancy and using their writing to hold leaders accountable and advocate for meaningful change. 

Writers must consider the impact of their work on their readers and society at large. By choosing to praise demagogues, they not only betray their ethical responsibilities but also risk perpetuating a culture of uncritical acceptance and admiration for those in power. This can have detrimental effects on the development of a just and democratic society.  

Somali authors should be at the forefront of this effort, using their writing to challenge injustices committed by these leaders, highlight social issues, and advocate for a better future.  

Such grovelling was rampant during the dark ages of literature—the medieval period, when the Catholic Church held hegemonic power over all institutions. Sycophants would compose panegyric poetry dedicated to praising specific rulers or patrons. They often exaggerated the achievements and virtues of the subject, presenting them as heroic figures worthy of admiration and loyalty. An example is the “Panegyricus” by Claudian, which celebrates the Roman Emperor Honorius. 

There were also hagiographies, which were biographies of saints or religious figures that often portrayed their subjects in an idealised and reverent light. While not strictly sycophantic in the political sense, hagiographies served to bolster religious authority and promote devotion to the Church and its leaders. 

Once these demagogues dangle the carrot, we become sycophants and fanatics, but rarely loyalists. Notably, there is a thin line between sycophancy and loyalty. Sycophancy is founded on extremism, while loyalty is embedded in honesty. I understand the semantics may be confusing, so allow me to break it down further so that you can determine where you fall. 

A sycophant is described as a self-seeker who uses obsequious flattery to win favour from influential people. He feeds on the vanity and colossal egotism of those in authority. 

Such literature must be shunned and never allowed to flood the market, let alone be read. By extension, publishing houses should be very critical and exercise unparalleled scrutiny on the nature of the works they publish. 

This is the person who tells Mudane/Masuul, “The ground trembles with your name; everyone loves you and cannot imagine life without you. You are God-sent.” This showering of praise and blatant lies becomes so seductive that it quickly obscures the perception of even the sanest and most level-headed politicians. In no time, these demigods are engulfed in delusions of grandeur; they believe they are untouchable, unstoppable, and unbeatable. As the leader becomes more despotic, the sycophants become more jealous in guarding their turf. I am sure you have now learnt how both the sycophant and the fanatic turn our leaders into egotistical sacred cows who increasingly hypnotise themselves into believing they are grand historic figures whose agency fulfils God’s purpose on earth.