When statehood collapsed in Somalia, so did our unity and peace. Everyone fled to wherever they could find safety. Nowhere was the devastation more severe than in Mogadishu, the nation’s very heart. In most countries, when conflict erupts, as long as the capital remains intact, there is hope for recovery. But for us, our capital was the epicenter of destruction.
I was among those who stayed behind, witnessing the tragedy firsthand. What happened in Somalia cannot be summarized; it was, in every sense, a disaster. Together with other intellectuals, we believed that something had to be done to control the chaos. When despair seemed to consume the country, people began searching for ways to restore governance. The international community also initiated numerous efforts to help rebuild the Somali state.
Fourteen reconciliation conferences were held abroad, in Djibouti, Nairobi, Addis Ababa, Cairo, and elsewhere. Yet those meetings mostly gathered the same warlords, men more interested in seats and power than in the suffering of their people. That constant hunger for positions led to the repeated collapse of those conferences. The Cairo Conference, the last of them, ended in deep disappointment and despair after dragging on for months without tangible results.
After that failure, elders and intellectuals began their own efforts to stop the suffering and find a genuine solution. We issued a public declaration rejecting the so-called government announced by General Mohamed Farah Aidid in June 1995, because it could neither unite the country nor bring peace. There were 125 of us, from whom a smaller committee of 25 members emerged, chaired by Abdiqasim Salad Hassan, with me serving as the youngest member and secretary. Our main objective was to organize a reconciliation and state-building conference in Baidoa District, believing it could serve as a neutral venue for a Somali-led peace process.
Our goal was clear: to organize a national conference led by Somali civil society, not another warlord gathering. We reached out to Lawyer Hassey, who governed the Bay and Bakool regions, as those areas were relatively stable. He agreed to host us. But before our plans could materialize, General Aidid seized Baidoa. Rumors spread that our plans had leaked, prompting him to act preemptively.
We regrouped in 1998 and founded a political movement called Kulanka Walaalaha Soomaaliyeed (“The Somali Brothers’ Forum”). Unfortunately, the party didn’t take off. Somalis were not yet ready for political parties. We realized that Mogadishu, though deeply wounded, remained the nerve center of the country, and peace there would symbolize hope for the entire nation. So, we decided to organize a peace conference for the people of Mogadishu at the end of 1998, to spread its message nationwide.
Our approach was clan-based to reconcile warring clans before venturing into politics. After six months of preparation, we gained the support of the clans, just as Djibouti’s President Ismail Omar Guelleh announced his peace initiative for Somalia in September 1999. We welcomed his proposal wholeheartedly; it aligned perfectly with what we had been working toward.
We sent a five-member delegation led by Abdiqasim Salad Hassan to Djibouti in November 1999. When they met President Guelleh, they expressed full support for his initiative. The President and the people of Djibouti received them warmly, assuring them that they acted purely out of compassion for the suffering of the Somali people, not out of personal or political interest.
We handed over our earlier plans from 1995, the very blueprint of a Somali-led national conference we had hoped to hold in Baidoa, to the Djibouti leadership. They appreciated the ideas, noting that it provided a foundation-built years earlier. The delegation also travelled to Hargeisa, where they met with Somaliland’s President, Mohamed Haji Ibrahim Egal. It was agreed, in principle, that Somaliland would participate in the upcoming conference.
There was even an understanding that, if they joined, Hargeisa could be the capital and Egal could lead. With that optimism, the delegation returned to Mogadishu.
Soon, a series of large public meetings took place in Mogadishu; gatherings free from warlord control. Three factions emerged: the old warlords who had failed to reconcile the nation despite attending 14 previous conferences; our organizing group and the civil society we mobilized; and a third group, independents who rejected warlord dominance but wanted to take part in rebuilding their nation. Those independent initiatives were very positive signs of change.
Djibouti proceeded with its preparations for the conference, which unfolded in four phases:
- Preparation Phase — around 60 intellectuals gathered to lay the groundwork.
- Reconciliation Phase — elders and community leaders were invited to resolve clan disputes.
- Political Phase — once reconciliation was achieved, delegates discussed political representation.
- State Formation Phase — the drafting of a national charter and the establishment of a parliament.
I was among the first 47 participants who arrived in the small Djiboutian town of Arta on April 27, 2000. Among us were Ali Mahdi Mohamed, Abdiqasim Salad Hassan, Generals Mohamed Sheikh Osman, Jilaow, and Galal, Imam Mohamud Imam Omar, Ahmed Rage, Haji Ahmed Diriye, and others. Arta was a peaceful resort town, home to luxurious villas that traders usually vacated in summer, and those homes were opened to host us.
The conference began with 47 delegates but grew to more than 2,000 people, including invited guests and self-funded participants, all bound by love for Somalia.
The Djibouti government worked tirelessly to convince the warlords to attend, sending delegations to each of them. We, too, from the Somali civil society side, reached out repeatedly. But the warlords saw the conference as a threat, fearing it would take away the monopoly they had enjoyed over leadership and power. They wanted a conference they could dominate. When they realized that this was not the case, they boycotted it. Puntland’s administration, led by Abdullahi Yusuf, also refused to participate, as did Somaliland’s President Egal, though, in my view, he did so reluctantly, perhaps feeling that the timing was not right for Somaliland’s participation.
From the day I arrived until the end of August, when the transitional government was finally formed, I never left Arta. The mood among delegates was one of unity and optimism. Many said that if Somaliland had joined, they would have gladly handed over leadership and even made Hargeisa the capital; that’s how strong the desire for Somali unity was.
I met with President Guelleh in Arta during the process. He told us clearly: “We have laid the table for you; the ideas and decisions must come from you, Somalis.” He emphasized that Djibouti had no hidden agenda. Eventually, Abdiqasim Salad Hassan was elected President, and Ali Khalif Galaydh became Prime Minister.
The atmosphere in Arta was historic, for the first time, intellectuals, elders, and civil society leaders met freely without warlord interference. The sense of brotherhood and reconciliation was powerful, and Djibouti’s hospitality only strengthened it.
The reconciliation phase was the longest. Nearly all Somali traditional elders attended, and for those few who couldn’t, representatives were chosen. They met clan by clan, resolving grievances and disputes, leading to the creation of a National Reconciliation Committee.
When it came time to form a government, the process was difficult. Without political parties or established structures, representation was ultimately decided using the 4.5 clan power-sharing formula, a compromise born of necessity, not preference.
Two groups, our organizing committee from Mogadishu and the somali diaspora intellectuals from the preparation phase, worked closely behind the scenes to ensure the conference did not collapse. We took on three self-assigned roles: to apply pressure when needed, to advise the facilitators, and to mediate disputes when deadlocks arose. From those experiences, it was coined a phrase that guided us: “This is about a solution, not entitlement.” Meaning, no one would get everything they deserved, but everyone would get peace.
The most intense moment came when disputes over parliamentary seats nearly derailed the talks. President Guelleh gave a heartfelt speech that moved everyone. He said, “Somalis, stand by me, I stand by you.” Those words changed the course of the conference.
Eventually, the parliament was set at 245 members, 225 allocated through the clan system, and 20 left to President Guelleh’s discretion to ensure inclusion of marginalized or overlooked figures. Djibouti handled this honorably, prioritizing fairness and merit, not clan affiliation.
Several factors made Arta a success: Djibouti’s deep understanding of Somali culture, its genuine solidarity, the unifying power of Somali poetry and music performed by artists from both nations, and the active role of Djibouti and Somali media.
When the transitional government was formed, Somalia rejoiced. As President Abdiqasim and his delegation flew into Balidogle, crowds lined the roads from there to Mogadishu, waving flags and cheering. The Mogadishu Stadium overflowed with people celebrating the return of governance, scenes of joy not witnessed in years. Across the country, there was dancing and celebration.
Yet, the new government faced immense challenges: warlords still in control of parts of Mogadishu, a devastated nation, an undisciplined armed population, and no financial resources. International support was weak, and some neighboring states were unhappy with the outcome.
The President and his government tried to rebuild institutions from scratch, operating out of private homes and hotels. But the resistance of the warlords, coupled with a lack of resources and internal divisions, stalled progress.
In my view, President Abdiqasim and his government failed to adopt either of the two viable strategies:
- Compromise fully — bring warlords into government, share power, and secure peace.
- Confront decisively — use public support and legitimacy to disarm and defeat them.
They did neither. As a result, two major battles broke out between government forces and warlord militias, weakening the fragile state’s credibility.
Still, I regard the Arta Conference as a miracle, a moment when Somalis who had fought each other for years came together, forgave one another, and rebuilt their state. No one expected it to happen, yet it did. The return of the Somali flag and national institutions was itself a victory. Even more remarkably, the government peacefully handed over power to an elected successor, a sign that Somalia’s long road to recovery had truly begun.
To the Somali youth, I say this: you are the backbone of the nation and the leaders of tomorrow. If Somalia rises, it will be through you; if it falls, it will be because you turned away. Embrace unity, support your government, and take part in rebuilding our nation, for our shared future depends on it.
