Whither Ahmed Samatar? 

Ahmed Samatar, the prominent Somali scholar and intellectual, has been ousted from his political party, Hilaac. But is the problem with him or our political system?  

 In a televised media briefing, a spokesperson of the Hilaac political party leadership announced that it had ousted its founder and leader, Professor Ahmed Ismail Samatar. One of the more bizarre reasons cited by party officials for his removal was that Samatar had appeared on television with a singer and performed with her, which they claimed had tarnished his public image. When they raised the issue, the professor reportedly responded: “I don’t care.”  

No further explanation was provided as to why singing would justify his removal from the leadership post. President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan frequently sings, having belted out a Turkish classic after his re-election last year. Even Vladimir Putin once sang in public at a charity fundraiser. Twelve years on, he is still in charge in Moscow. Both are very meticulous about the serious tough-guy image they like to project but did not see singing as something that undermined it. 

Although Samatar’s ouster has largely escaped attention, the party’s problem with his leadership was clear: cultural sensitivity was important to them, and Samatar, an outspoken western-educated professor, was oblivious to that. They said they made a huge effort to boost his reputation as their party head, but that he tore that all down.  

Professor Samatar is a rare breed among contemporary Somali politicians as he joined politics following a successful academic career. A man of unflinching candour with maverick instincts, he doesn’t mince words, which often makes him controversial. Watching his public speeches, it is hard to differentiate between the conflicting and diverging views of the professor. He is both a saber-rattling populist and a velvet-voiced visionary. On one hand, he speaks out against the “corrupt clannist establishment” vowing to drain the swamp and return power to the people; but he also holds inspiring and progressive views about the future of Somalia, Somaliland and Africa.  

As one of the most prominent and educated Somalis of his generation, he has made significant contributions to Somali political history, literature, and academia in various ways. He is a household name, and it is rare to find a Somali who has not heard of him. Samatar is the founder of Bildhaan, a leading academic journal dedicated to Somali studies. Throughout his career, he has combined scholarly levels of erudition with the polished style of a wide-ranging essayist.  

His profound understanding of the Somali nation is matched only by his deep connection to the soul of Somali society and the broader African people. He does not merely observe Somalis through the lens of his academic work; he tries to lift the lid on the currents which drive it and give a close encounter with its spirit and, through his adeptness with language, artfully portrays it. By combining philosophy and literature with the latest political theory and political science, he provides original, often exhilarating and ruthless analysis. 

Here is an example of some of his prose, examining what he often refers to as the “Somali condition”: “The Somali people, like other humans, cannot avoid the maelstrom of their own history. Consequently, the choice is stark: bear the testing burdens of transition and invent a stronger Somalinimo, or continue pulling flesh from each other’s bones—the price of living in chronic political ignominy.”  

He has made it his mission to inject Somali intellectual perspectives and ideas into the broader academic and cultural discourse. In his work, he often uses analogies to communicate the complexities of challenges that Somalis face. One of his essays begins by drawing parallels between thinkers who ordinarily wouldn’t be found in the same essay later alone the same sentence in some cases. He sets the tone with a quote from the 18th-century Italian philosopher Giambattista Vico, follows with a reference to Nigerian political scientist Claude Ake, and concludes with a powerful Somali poem by Maxamuud A. Cabdalle. 

Elsewhere he draws on Michael Oakshott, the conservative English political philosopher, who employs the metaphor through Arthur Schopenhauer of a porcupine colony to illustrate the challenges Somalis face in resolving questions around co-existence:  

“There was once, the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer tells us, a colony of porcupines. They were wont to huddle together on a cold winter‘s day and, thus wrapped in communal warmth, to escape being frozen. But, plagued with the pricks of each other‘s quills, they drew apart. And every time the desire for warmth brought them together again, the same calamity overtook them.” 

During a public talk, he skilfully invoked four intellectual giants, each representing a distinct era and worldview, seamlessly weaving their ideas together. He began by referencing Fernand Braudel, the renowned French historian, then turned to Immanuel Kant, the celebrated German philosopher known for his work in epistemology, ethics, and aesthetics. This was followed by a mention of Antonio Gramsci, the influential Italian writer. He concluded with a nod to the esteemed Somali poet Mohamed Sultan Timacadde, reminding his audience that Somalis, like other civilisations, have their own remarkable thinkers and intellectuals who can bat with the best.  

Apart from his academic excellence, there is always a twist, a talent that distinguishes him from his peers: his voracious love for music. Several videos of him singing have gone viral, some featuring him performing with Somalia’s greatest artists. Upon watching perform, you would be hard-pressed to distinguish him from a Somali musician. You could easily mistake him for an established musician. 

One noteworthy published interview conducted by the professor features the great Somali artist Ahmed Hussein Hodeide. In his introduction to Hodeide, Samatar wrote: “He is as distinguished as any Somali of national accomplishment. Still tall with a straight back, his gait strong, his mind fully alert, he is the greatest living Somali master of the oud (kaman).”  

Samatar continued: “He looks as formidable as the late Andrés Segovia, the renowned Spanish and world-class guitarist who transformed that instrument into a treasure of classical music.” By the end of the interview, Samatar’s admiration for the great musician and the art itself is clear. One can sense it in the words he uses: “Not only are you a grand fanaan, but you have also spoken like a sage. Much obliged, Master Hodeide.”  

He’s also an African intellectual whose writing, though often focused on the region, transcends the Horn of Africa. In his borderline-prophetic words, he attempts to awaken the African conscience: “To regain any measure of dignity and virtue, Africans will have to learn not only how to keep imperialism at bay but, more immediately, to understand that there will be no cataclysmic event or promised millennium that will deliver liberation. Instead, the long and tortuous march begins with giving our individual and collective best to the present.” 

This statement echoes Amilcar Cabral's “no easy victories,” challenging the tendency among the dispossessed to hope for the arrival of messianic figures like Gamal Abdel Nasser or Kwame Nkrumah. It reminds the public and the intelligentsia that responsibility lies with them and that the journey will not be easy. There will be no “cataclysmic event” or “promised millennium” – nations do not develop in such a manner, and these childish myths need to be dispelled. 

One might assume that such a sober intellectual poise would mean he possesses all the qualities required to transition from the ivory tower to the trenches of Somali politics; however, the tides of history in our country have not always lifted his ship. 

He first entered the political arena in 2012 when he ran for the presidency of Somalia. His bid ended in a significant defeat, securing only 8 out of over 250 votes. Following this loss, he shifted his allegiance, declaring that he no longer supported unionism and instead embraced the secessionist cause—a cause he had previously described as “frightening”—which advocates for the independence of Somaliland from the rest of the republic. 

Samatar’s difficulties with contemporary Somali politics are neither an isolated case nor a departure from the norm, but rather a symptom of a long-standing trend among Somali western-educated elites, who have often struggled to influence Somali political discourse and translate the ideals they absorb abroad into actionable political programs.  

They often arrive with the aim of redeeming Somalia from its fallen state, but their ambitions are thwarted by entrenched power dynamics that do not welcome their grand ideas. A deep sense of responsibility and shame compels them to feel they must salvage their country from the wreckage, only to find themselves powerless against the deep inertia of Somali clan politics.  

It was “the city boys with university degrees that wrought Somalia’s ruin,” wrote one of the finest Somali intellectuals, Professor Said Samatar (of no relation), in his “confessional” essay where he drew a parallel between his own struggles and those of Fyodor Dostoyevsky. The Russian novelist underwent personal and ideological transformations following his arrest and mock execution in 1849.  

While Dostoyevsky’s near-death experience, imprisonment, and subsequent exile led him to become a staunch defender of the “Russian soul” as he termed it, the collapse of the Somali state was Said Samatar’s analogue to Dostoyevsky’s transformational experience. By his own admission, the fall of the nation brought about a deep sense of humiliation and despair. He lamented the loss of identity and pride in a world that often equates statelessness with primitiveness. It was likely episodes like the incident in which the former British ambassador to Somalia, Ben Fender, remarked that he never truly understood Thomas Hobbes’ “state of nature” thesis until he had observed Somali politics, which caused him to descend into the haunting depths he described in that essay. 

However, Said Samatar’s observation about the Somali educated elite was not made lightly but arose from his own personal experiences working with them. In the essay, he recounted an incident where, with American assistance, he assembled a group of Somali intellectuals to form what later became the “peacemakers”. This group, funded by the international community and supported by prominent U.S. figures, was intended to “devise a governance plan” for Somalia following the fall of the dictator Siad Barre and the subsequent state collapse. Unfortunately, the group quickly descended into internal conflicts and failed to produce a unified governance plan, thereby undermining their cause.  

No one could say with certainty how much professor Ahmed Samatar’s acumen would have contributed to resolving the leadership crisis that has tormented Somalis, whether in Mogadishu or Hargeisa. However, it is undeniable that his potential to provide an alternative to the leadership deficit in the country was not realised. His pursuit of political power, in many ways, led to his own undoing—a slow, tragic career suicide. Some Somalis now view him as no different from the very things he passionately fought against – political opportunism. But this view doesn’t tell the whole story. 

Throughout his life, he dedicated his work to writing about the nature of Somali politics. Unfortunately, the very issues he lamented about confronted him when he tried to change them. Clan loyalties that outweigh national interest; elites and oligarchs locked in a hysterical battle for power; and a political discourse that seems allergic to integrity, honesty, and genuine leadership. These were values he held dear, but when he entered the tussle, he found himself in an environment where such principles were not just unwelcome—they were in fact liabilities. And in the end, like many before him, he was guzzled by the very madness he sought to change. 

The American conservative author Thomas Sowell noted in Intellectuals and Society: “While logic and evidence are ideal criteria for the work of intellectuals, there are many ways in which much of what is said and done by intellectuals has less to do with principles than with attitudes.”  

In the context of the Somali western educated elite, this offers one answer to the question of the challenges they face in contemporary Somali politics. In a sense, some of them fall victim to their personal ambitions, which overshadow their principles—not necessarily due to a lack of ethical values but rather because of a self-serving interest. The rest of the answer lies in the environment in which these intellectuals find themselves: belligerent political discourse, systematically incompetent ruling class, rife tribalism, and, as Samatar put it, a predatory form of corruption that literally steals from the mouths of children dying of hunger. In a 2011 speech Samatar said the fate of Somalis left onlookers either aghast, contemptuous or offered them opportunities to manipulate the situation to serve their ends. There isn’t much evidence that this has changed but it isn’t likely that Samatar would appreciate any of these uncharitable appraisals or their possible consequences. Though it isn’t much of a redeeming argument, it would probably raise more questions if he had succeeded in such a corrupt political system.