Today Somalia is not only the world's most spectacular case of a
failed state-it has, after all, been more than twenty years since the
benighted land has had anything resembling a central government-but,
thanks to the worst drought in six decades, it is what the United
Nations refugee agency has described as the "worst humanitarian
disaster" in the world. Nearly half of Somalia's population-some 3.7
million people-face starvation as famine has been declared in two
regions in the southern part of the country, while another 11 million
across the Horn of Africa are at risk.
Given this grim reality, the first priority of the international
community is, understandably, getting relief to the victims. The United
States, the largest bilateral donor to East Africa, recently added $28
million to the $431 million emergency assistance it has already provided
this year, while last week the European Union sent another €27.8
million on top of the €70 million it previously sent.
However, in addressing immediate needs, attention needs to also be
paid to the broader political context as well as the long-term
implications of the current crisis.
Unfortunately, the Somali areas most affected by the drought and
famine-Bakool and Lower Shabelle-happen to also be in the south-central
part of the country which has been the backdrop of an insurgency
spearheaded by al-Shabaab, an al-Qaeda-linked militant Islamist
movement, against Somalia's dysfunctional "Transitional Federal
Government" (TFG).
While al-Shabaab is far from a monolithic organization, it has a
history of denying access to the areas under its control to UN relief
agencies like UNICEF and the World Food Program (the subject of its
responsibility for the current famine deserves separate consideration).
For their part, the agencies and several nongovernmental organizations
pulled out of the region last year after several aid workers were killed
and al-Shabaab began imposing strict conditions on their remaining
colleagues, extorting "security fees" and "taxes."
Moreover, because al-Shabaab has been designated as an international
terrorist organization by the United States and other countries, NGOs
have avoided working in areas it controls for fear of running afoul of
laws against providing material support to terrorist groups.
Consequently, it is heartening that over the weekend US Assistant
Secretary of State for African Affairs Johnnie Carson signaled the
administration's willingness to be flexible, acknowledging:
"There are sub-sets of [al-Shabaab] that may be willing to allow
humanitarian assistance to reach Somalis in need. In spite of our
concerns about the organization, we are working with international
organizations to explore the options to provide additional aid inside
Somalia."
Meanwhile, although Somalia's unelected officials may be preferable
to the insurgents seeking to overthrow them, but they represent, at
best, the international community's choice for the lesser of two evils.
As I noted in testimony last month at a joint hearing of two subcommittees of the House Foreign Affairs
Committee, not only does it provide none of the services expected of a
government, but it is little better than a criminal enterprise, one that
its own auditors showed stole more than 96 percent of the bilateral
assistance it received in the years 2009 and 2010. The findings
contained in the annual report to the Security Council by the UN
Sanctions Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea, released just last
week, were even more damning: "Diversion of arms and ammunition from the
Transitional Federal Government and its affiliated militias has been
another significant source of supply to arms dealers in Mogadishu, and
by extension to al-Shabaab." The monitors even found a case where an RPG
launcher and ammunition, purchased for the regime under a US State
Department contract, found their way into a stronghold of al-Shabaab
that the African Union peacekeeping force (AMISOM) managed to capture.
In short, the self-appointed "leaders" of Somalia consistently prove
that they are more likely to be part of the problem than part of the
solution.
Hence it comes as no surprise that Somalis are on the move. The
Dabaab refugee camp just over the border in Kenya, which was built
during the last great Somali famine in 1992, to temporarily house 90,000
people nowadays hosts somewhere around 400,000, with more than one
thousand additional persons arriving each day. Another 112,000 refugees
have found shelter in the Dollo Ado area of Ethiopia. And these are the
lucky ones: it is estimated that there are possibly 1.5 million Somalis
internally displaced within their own country, with some unfortunates
even literally caught in the no man's land at outskirts of Mogadishu
between the frontline positions of the insurgents and AMISOM troops.
Given the parlous conditions prevalent across the territory of the
former Somali state (outside of secessionist Somaliland in the northwest
and autonomous Puntland in the northeast), it is virtually assured that
any Somali who crosses the border into Kenya or Ethiopia is a permanent
emigrant. Since there has been no rush of third countries offering
resettlement to the preexistent Somali refugee population before the
famine, there is no reason to think that things will be different with
the influx of new arrivals. But Kenya and Ethiopia, with complicated
issues with their own ethnic Somali minorities, are hardly in a position
to absorb hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of itinerant Somalis.
Such a population shift threatens to upend delicate political balances
as well as present new security challenges-concerns over the latter have
already exposed one rift within Kenya's national unity government
between Prime Minister Raila Odinga, who opened the border as a
humanitarian gesture, and ministers who oppose the move. Thus, if they
are not to cause, however unintentionally, even greater harm, responses
to the mass migration set in motion by the prolonged Somali crisis and
now the famine need to take into account these realities.
Confronted with the dreadful specter of mass starvation, the
overriding preoccupation should be on the provision of emergency relief.
However, it is also incumbent upon American and European policymakers
who, with increasing media coverage of the famine, will come under
pressure from constituents to "do something," to be cognizant of the
political context of the crisis as well as its broader geostrategic
implications as they craft their responses.
Dr. J. Peter Pham is director of the Michael S. Ansari Africa Center at the Atlantic Council. The article was first published by the New Atlanticist.



August 3, 2011
Eva Maria Krockow, GIZ, Ghana, Platinum Contributor (209)
Thank you for your very informed contribution. In this context, I would like to refer to a previous article, which outlined problems of foreign toxic waste dumping and illegal fishing at Somalia's coasts and the consequent development/reinforcement of piracy in the region (http://www.atlantic-community.org/index/Open_Think_Tank_Article/Sto...).
Hopefully, the current disaster situation will provide the necessary impulse for a comprehensive Western policy review concerning the Horn of Africa and Somalia in particular. The latter will naturally have to address questions on political stabilization and the fight against Islamism/piracy. Furthermore, international recognition of the democratically organized and comparatively stable Somaliland should be strongly considered. Its example could serve as a role model guiding future state-building in the former Somali state.