Somalia’s recent land evictions illustrate the clearest example of an administrative decision gone wrong — a decision that contradicts the law, is issued by authorities with no proper mandate, and ignores the foundational principles of fairness, due process, and constitutional equality.
These are not merely technical errors. Their consequences fall directly on the lives of ordinary people: homes torn down, families uprooted, and livelihoods extinguished. When a government strays beyond its legal boundaries, the damage is not procedural; it is deeply human, economic, and political.
A lawful government action must comply with the law, be made by an institution empowered to do so, and follow procedures that ensure justice. The recent demolitions in Mogadishu fail all three. To this day, it remains unclear who issued the directive that displaced hundreds of thousands of citizens.
What is known, however, is that land management does not fall under the constitutional functions of the President. His highest obligation is to uphold a Constitution that begins with a clear principle: “Somali citizens are equal in rights and obligations.” Yet equality was the first victim of these demolitions.
The inconsistencies are glaring. Some communities displaced “for public interest” were offered affordable plots, as seen in San’a and Zona Key. Others, such as residents of Siinaay Market, were removed without a shilling in compensation.
In certain areas, uprooted families were told to purchase new plots for up to $100,000, while others acquired land of similar size for a fraction of that amount. This is not cohesive public policy. It is selective enforcement, structural inequality, and an erosion of basic fairness.
President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud has addressed land issues twice. The first time, he framed the demolitions as part of an urban reorganization policy aimed at clearing chaotic settlements and restoring public roads — a vision that, while not constitutionally his mandate, still falls within the realm of national debate.
The second time, he left unanswered the most critical question: if land was taken from poor citizens in the name of public interest, why has it not been returned to public use? Where are the promised public buildings? Where is the transparent redevelopment plan? None of the displaced communities have seen the public projects used to justify their removals.
Instead, what has emerged is a pattern of elitist gain. Fewer than 50 individuals appear to have benefited from land allocations. Public institutions such as the former Postal and Telecommunications School are now sites of private development.
Agencies like the Fire Brigade continue to occupy state land illegally. Rushed construction quickly replaces demolished homes, with no regulatory oversight and no connection to public welfare. This is not governance. It is the appropriation of public resources through state power.
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The human cost is staggering. Over 200,000 people, according to UN reports, have been displaced. These are citizens who now face homelessness, trauma, economic ruin, and a complete absence of legal remedy — despite having every constitutional right to compensation for material loss, psychological harm, and violations of due process. A government that claims democratic legitimacy cannot ignore such obligations.
Once the President publicly addressed land matters, responsibility became unavoidable. He must answer the questions that now define this crisis: what will the government do for the families that were displaced? How will it compensate those whose homes were destroyed under an unlawful order? Silence will no longer suffice — not politically, not morally.
It is difficult to believe that President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud and Prime Minister Hamza Abdi Barre are comfortable with the scale of injustice inflicted upon vulnerable citizens. Their histories do not paint them as leaders who would consciously permit such suffering. But the contradiction between their public values and what has occurred under their administration is what makes this moment so troubling.
Unlawful administrative decisions do not fade with time. They must be confronted, corrected, and acknowledged. Somalia cannot rebuild trust, legitimacy, or effective governance atop the rubble of demolished homes and the pain of abandoned citizens.
Restoring public confidence begins with a simple but essential act: acknowledge the wrong, reverse it where possible, and compensate the victims.
Until that happens, these demolitions will stand not just as a policy failure, but as a lasting moral and constitutional stain.
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Yusuf Aybakar Shadoor, is a writer, legal expert, and professor of law at the Somali National University.
The opinion expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Dawan Africa.





