The End of KULMIYE dominance

Short Summary:

Somaliland’s 2024 elections marked the end of Kulmiye’s dominance and the rise of a new coalition between Waddani and the emerging Kaah Party. But behind this political realignment lies a deeper shift: a new electoral system that centralizes power and risks excluding large segments of society. This analysis examines how reform, if left unchecked, could undermine Somaliland’s democratic credibility, internal balance, and long-term stability.

In 2024, Somaliland underwent a landmark political transition. After nearly 15 years of dominance, the Kulmiye Party lost both the presidency and its position as the leading political force. The November 2024 elections delivered victory to the opposition Waddani Party, which formed a governing alliance with the newly formalized Kaah Party. At first glance, this peaceful transfer of power seemed to affirm Somaliland’s democratic resilience.

But beneath the surface, a far more complex transformation has taken place—one that raises difficult questions about representation, legitimacy, and the direction of Somaliland’s political system.

The origins of this shift go back to 31 May 2021, when Somaliland held its first parliamentary elections in over 15 years. The outcome saw Waddani win a narrow plurality, Kulmiye lose its majority, and a group of politically independent MPs emerge as critical power brokers. This group, spearheaded by former Minister Mohamoud Hashi, would later evolve into the Kaah Party.

Kaah’s rise was not driven by mass mobilization or electoral campaigns, but by quiet influence. Well before it became an official party, it had already shaped the legislature and parliamentary leadership through a disciplined bloc of loyal MPs. By 2023, Kaah had become a behind-the-scenes force capable of deciding key political appointments.

When the 2024 elections approached, Waddani’s leadership took a strategic step. Abdirahman Mohamed Abdillahi (Irro), the longtime opposition figure, stepped down as party chairman, handing the reins to a former Kulmiye minister who had previously broken ranks after the controversial 2015 succession of President Bihi. This move broadened Waddani’s appeal and solidified an alliance with Kaah.

After Waddani’s electoral victory, Kaah was awarded 30% of government positions, including four cabinet portfolios and the influential post of Chief of Intelligence. Somaliland had entered a new era: Waddani governed, Kaah shaped strategy from within, and Kulmiye was relegated to a diminished opposition.

However, the broader context surrounding these elections signals not just a political realignment—but a structural transformation in how Somaliland functions as a democracy.

In 2024, alongside the presidential vote, Somaliland adopted a new centralized mechanism for party selection. Instead of earning party status through grassroots victories in local council elections, political associations now compete in a single nationwide contest. The top three are then granted legal status for the next ten years.

While this reform was intended to streamline the system, it has introduced serious long-term risks.

First, all three recognized parties are now led by individuals from closely related sub-clans. While legal, this concentration of power threatens to upset the delicate balance of inter-clan representation that has held Somaliland together since its independence declaration in 1991.

Second, the new system strongly favors the powerful: well-funded actors, entrenched political elites, and dominant social groups. Emerging reformers, women, youth, and minority communities face steep barriers to entry.

Third, associations that fail to qualify aren’t just defeated—they are excluded from the political system for a full decade. That level of exclusion can alienate entire communities and regions, breeding resentment and apathy.

Fourth, combining presidential and party elections into a single contest places enormous pressure on Somaliland’s electoral institutions. If results are disputed, the fallout affects not just executive legitimacy, but also the structure of the party system itself.

Fifth, a narrowed and elite-driven political landscape is far more vulnerable to foreign influence. When political control is concentrated, external actors can focus their efforts on a small number of gatekeepers. Meanwhile, excluded groups may seek international patronage to regain relevance—undermining national sovereignty.

Somaliland has long presented itself as a democratic exception in the Horn of Africa—a self-reliant republic with peaceful transitions, civic engagement, and grassroots legitimacy. That credibility has been a core pillar of its case for international recognition.

But if democracy becomes exclusive, if legitimacy is replaced by maneuver, and if political access is limited to the few, then Somaliland risks losing the very qualities that set it apart.

This is a critical moment. Realignment has opened space for reform—but also for regression. What happens next will determine whether Somaliland becomes more inclusive, resilient, and democratic—or whether it drifts into a narrower, more fragile system of elite rule.

The future of Somaliland must be built not just on peaceful elections, but on meaningful representation. Political access must be broadened, not locked away. Democracy must remain a tool of participation, not exclusion.

Before strategic reform hardens into systemic risk, Somaliland must reassess the direction it is heading.