We Didn’t Abandon the Union. We Were Never Truly Part of It.

When Somaliland entered into a voluntary union with Somalia in 1960, it brought to the table its own sovereignty, institutions, and international legitimacy. It expected partnership. What it received was marginalization.

Between 1960 and the collapse of the Somali state in 1991, more than $4.358 billion in development aid was poured into the Somali Republic. Of that, only 3.33%—around $145 million—was allocated to Somaliland. The rest—over 96%—went almost entirely to southern and central Somalia.

This isn’t just about finance—it’s about structural exclusion. Out of 145 major development projects funded by international institutions, nearly all were implemented in Mogadishu, Afgoi, Jowhar, Kismayo, and Baidoa. Somaliland was allocated only a fraction—token gestures rather than transformative investments.

These were not minor initiatives. They included power plants, sugar estates, dams, ports, telecommunications systems, road networks, universities, hospitals, aviation hubs, and broadcasting infrastructure. Somaliland, the north-west region of the country, was bypassed almost entirely.

A few scattered projects appear in the official records. Berbera Port Extension—never completed before the state collapsed. The Hargeysa–Borama Road. Cold storage facilities in Berbera, Burco, and Hargeysa. A modest upgrade to Hargeysa Airport. A livestock holding ground in Qolcaday. A fisheries training center. A few lines, while southern cities like Mogadishu alone received a national university, three power stations, four massive irrigation schemes, a sugar factory, a pharmaceutical laboratory, international port and airport expansions, full telecommunication systems, roads, housing, and more.

What makes this imbalance even harder to accept is the strategic role Somaliland played in attracting many of these foreign funds in the first place. During the Cold War, Berbera Port became Somalia’s premier bargaining chip. First the Soviets, then the Americans, established military and strategic infrastructure there. That leverage brought money to Somalia—but not to Berbera. Instead, it funded port developments in Kismayo and Bossaso, cities far from the source of the bargain.

Somaliland’s coastline helped build Somalia, but Somaliland itself was not built. The same applies to livestock exports. In the 1970s and 1980s, the vast majority of Somalia’s foreign currency came from livestock shipped through Berbera. And yet the roads, markets, schools, and national institutions built with that income were placed in the south.

No public university in the north. No central bank branches. No major highways. No power generation. Just 3.33%.

That number—3.33%—was not discovered yesterday. It was documented and preserved through the meticulous work of Abdillahi Oomaar Awale and later passed on to me by the late Ali Gulaid (Ali Marshal). May Allah grant them both eternal peace. Their efforts confirm what our elders always told us: that Somaliland was not an equal partner in the union. It was a province used for its strategic value, but denied equal investment, equal respect, and equal presence in the national agenda.

And that’s why this still matters. Because for many in the international community, the story of Somaliland’s reassertion of independence is reduced to conflict or emotion. But for us, it is also about economic justice and historical record.

For today’s generation, the case for Somaliland’s independence is no longer just historical—it is economic, institutional, and undeniably just.

We tried unity. We were peaceful. We were patient. But we were not included.

We didn’t abandon the union. We were never truly part of it.