Challenging the Ideal? Traditional Governance and the Modern State in Somaliland

ABSTRACT

Increasing attention paid to state-building and reconstruction of post-conflict states has highlighted significant deficiencies in the practice of state-building, largely brought on by a lack of knowledge and expertise, but also because of a narrow and intrusive view of what a state can and should be. By examining assumptions underlying much of the literature on weak, fragile and failed states, the myth of the ‗ideal‘ state is highlighted; through this it is possible to understand, and also critique, the expectations for state formation or state-building and what a state ‗should be.‘ An idea case study for this, and thus the focus of this thesis, is Somaliland, an unrecognised state in the Horn of Africa. For all pretences, Somaliland is a separate entity from its southern neighbour, and is often referred to as the ‗model‘ of state formation in Africa. However, Somaliland deviates from the normative values surrounding successful statehood in its inclusion of traditional authority in the central government. Whilst the hybrid government in Somaliland was created to establish peace and stability in the territory, pressure for democratisation of government institutions is creating tensions between the ‗old‘ Somali style of governance and the ‗new‘ democratic government in the territory; tensions which are becoming more apparent and problematic. This thesis examines these tensions and relates this case study to larger questions of not only state-building but also state formation; namely the impact and consequences of international norms of statehood on stability within new or democratising states. Somaliland shows the absence of international state- building projects and the ability to closely tailor the project to the specific case can facilitate the creation of the state, particularly in contrast to the ongoing succession of failed projects in Somalia, resulting in a project that reflects both internal and external demands and desires. In addition to highlighting and examining the successes of and obstacles to Somaliland‘s state formation project, this thesis comments on deficiencies in international intervention in developing, forming or re-building states as well as in the normative frameworks or blueprints concerning how to be a state.

Chapter 1: Introduction

 While many of the existing territorial states in Africa remain fragile and prone to collapse, these conditions have not always given way to anarchy. On the contrary, in a few cases, the breakdown of large, arbitrary state units has given way to more coherent and viable (though not always more benevolent) political entities.

The 1991 failure and collapse of the state in Somalia ushered in what was to become a long-term and largely unsuccessful effort aimed at internationally driven post-conflict state reconstruction and state-building. Since 1992 Somalia has been the subject of numerous peace conferences and a succession of attempts at re-establishing the state apparatus and a government. The current government in Somalia continues to be plagued with difficulties, not only from within the government itself but also from various factions within society. The return of Somalia‘s government from more than a decade in exile in Kenya was not met with jubilation in the streets, but rather the continuation of violence so intense in the capital city of Mogadishu that the returning government opted to base itself in Baidoa, nearly 160 miles away. Today‘s unstable and unpredictable situation in Somalia leads one to question the sustainability of the current incarnation of the government and, more broadly, of an externally created government within the archetypal failed state that is synonymous with anarchy. Despite the persistent failures at re-building the state, the international community and Somalia‘s neighbours continue their endeavours aimed at building a stable and accountable Somalia. Where the international community is absent, however, pockets of locally created governance have emerged. In the northeast province of Puntland, along-standing regional government offers basic services and security to the

In many areas outside the major cities, clan governance continues to population provide social and physical stability and security to the people. And in the northwest territory of Somaliland, the most organised and developed of these pockets of governance, a new ‗state‘ that exhibits the central democratic government that has so far eluded the south is emerging. It is here that an extraordinary project of state formation is taking place within the larger failure of Somalia.

Throughout the literature on failed states and that of state-building, the on-going project in Somalia is a constant point of reference. Within these studies the self- declared independent territory of Somaliland is often referred to as a rebel region or as a deviant breakaway territory that refuses to engage with the wider project of reconciliation and rebuilding. Whilst it is true that there is a refusal on the part of both Somalia and Somaliland to engage with each other in negotiations or discussions on the nature of Somaliland‘s status, the attachment of the rebellious or deviant label creates a situation in which the causes for Somaliland‘s secession and the successes in creating a state are not acknowledged. Instead, the existence of an independent Somaliland is problematic for the long-standing goal of re-establishing a government able to exercise its power throughout the entirety of Somalia. The insistence on the territorial integrity of Somalia coming from the West as well as strongly from the African Union ensures that very little official attention is paid to the state formation process in Somaliland. It therefore remains conspicuously absent from much of the state-building policy, practice and literature.

The insistence on an externally-led project of creating a central democratic state in Somalia reflects the current development trend of promulgating a universally applied style of state. Indeed, state-building in Somalia, as the first post-Cold War state- building project informed by the idealistic New World Order, marked the start of the promotion of an idealised modern democratic state through state-building and development projects. With a flux of new Eastern European states creating increased competition for investment and development assistance from the West, the message portrayed to African states seeking support regarding what was needed to obtain support became clear. As Dowden recollects: Europe and America gave African governments three conditions for their continued, if diminishing support: pursue free market policies, as laid down in the Washington consensus, respect human rights, and hold democratic elections – by which they meant multi-party democracy.

This emphasis on conforming to the dominant international norms informs state- building projects that began with the project in Somalia in 1993 as well as development and reform policies.4 The response to what are seen as financial, political social and security concerns or problems is a prescribed ‗one size fits all‘ approach5 to modern idealised statehood in order to create stability in not only the state in question, but also the international system of states. This ‗ideal‘ state conforms to liberal notions of acceptable statehood, exhibiting not only a democratic government and a secure territory, but also exercising good governance, providing public and political goods to the population, engaging in the international economy through liberal policies and eager for political interactions with other states and international institutions. In other words, the ‗ideal‘ state is one in which political, economic and security threats are eliminated and the practices, policies and structures of the state are familiar and easily accessible to the international community, particularly the West. The ideal state, therefore, is an extension of liberal intervention and as such subject to the control or subjugation of powerful states and international institutions. It does not reflect an already existing state structure, but rather comprises a wish list of sorts; it is a composition of factors that together would make the perfect acceptable or successful state not only for security, but also for political and economic relationships with powerful actors in the international community. The promulgation of the ideal state is more a liberal tool than an achievable reality.

Although the ideal state is a reflection of desires rather than a recreation of an existing state structure, this rubric of statehood is exhibited in policy as the desired outcome of interventionist actions. It extends far beyond active development or state-building policy, however. The dominance of this style of state in the normative liberal framework guiding international relations also creates an environment in which alternatives to or deviations from this blueprint of statehood and the path through which to reach it are not trusted, regardless of any success that may be exhibited. As such, international norms of what it means to be a state also direct domestic policy within developing states and, in particular, unrecognised states. For the latter, conforming to these acceptable standards of statehood is considered vital to achieving international recognition. By exploring conceptions of the acceptable or ideal state it is possible to understand, and also critique, the expectations for modern state formation. An ideal case study for this is Somaliland. For all pretences, Somaliland is a separate entity from its southern neighbour, Somalia, and is often referred to as the model of state formation in Africa: on empirical grounds it ―fulfils the principle criteria for statehood‖ and ticks the boxes of what a stable, modern state should be.

By all pretences it is a state, albeit one that lacks international recognition of sovereignty. A 2005 report commissioned by the World Bank, however, unveils a perceived problem with the state in Somaliland: a deviation from the liberal blueprint in the inclusion of traditional authority in the de facto state‘s central government.

The stated goal of creating a modern state is the same in both Somalia and Somaliland, but Somaliland has taken a drastically different path to achieving this and has set about creating a state on its own. Its exclusion from international involvement in the state formation process, however, has meant that the territory has been subjected to little direct interference from the international community. This isolation has allowed for Somaliland to create its own path to statehood and to define its own conditions for the introduction of demands for modern statehood, including democracy, in the governing structure and practices of the territory. The formation of the state in Somaliland reflects not only the normative dominance of the idealised acceptable or successful modern statehood, but also adapts these demands to Somaliland society. What is being created is a hybrid state that is inclusive of both familiar traditional governance structures as well as the newly introduced modern democratic government.

The hybrid government in Somaliland was integral to establishing peace and stability, but as the state continues to grow and develop this hybridity is being tested from within Somaliland itself. With domestic pressure for modernisation of government institutions, tensions between the ‗old‘ Somali style of governance and the ‗new‘ democratic government in the territory are becoming more apparent and problematic. This case study will examine state formation through the context of the normative framework of the ideal state. This thesis will consider the normative framework surrounding the creation of the ideal state and how this is enabled on a domestic level and in accordance with local political structures and priorities within the non- recognised state of Somaliland. This thesis will also examine the tensions between the ‗old‘ and the ‗new‘ resulting from this reconciliation between the two parallel governing structures. This introductory chapter provides an overview of research on the state formation process in Somaliland and its linkage to the wider discourse on the modern acceptable state. It will also briefly outline the key conceptual framework of the research, the chapter structure of the thesis and the methodological approach taken.

The Ideal Modern State and Indigenous Governance Structures

Within literature and policy on state failure, state-building and state development the successful or acceptable – the ideal – state is portrayed as one that complies with the normative framework of the modern state. As Berger notes, the growing body of literature concerned with failed and failing states ―attempts to facilitate the formulation of policies that will reverse this trend and create a world order of stable, economically dynamic and secure nation-states.

This is also reflected by the technocratic Ghani and Lockhart in the subtitle of their book, Fixing Failed States: A Framework for Rebuilding a Fractured World.9 Failed, fragile, weak or collapsed states are seen as states in crisis and as such are threatening to the cohesiveness and stability of the international system of states. Because of this there is a perceived incompatibility of failed states and the international system of states, thereby forcing the system to seek a way to strengthen its weaker chains. As Weiner indicates, weak, failed or fragile states create the threat of a bad neighbourhood, with the problems of one state quickly spreading to impact upon the others in its proximity. In line with this, failed, weak, fragile or collapsed states can be seen as crudely akin to a crack house in a residential neighbourhood: the malignant force of a failed state threatens the stability of a surrounding area and therefore must be addressed.10 Since removal of the entity is unfathomable under current rules of the international system, the response is a prescriptive remedy similar to an urban regeneration scheme that would be established to address a problematic neighbourhood. Berger associates this increased prescriptive attention with an emerging crisis of the nation-state system, with states failing to meet the rigorous demands of modern statehood threatening the stability of a system built on and dependent upon the functioning or legitimate sovereign states. However, the current means of addressing these problems itself are problematic in that the impending crisis is not one which can be addressed by ―technocratic prescriptions for the creation or stabilisation of particular collapsing or failing nation-states or the rehabilitation of the nation-state,‖ but rather the international community must reconsider the dictate of what is acceptable in the modern state.

As models of development have largely been dictated by the dominant discourses of the period, policies such as the push for political reform based on democracy‘s third wav, the economic sector oriented Washington Consensus and increased awareness of and concern for social and human security within sovereign states have significantly informed today‘s development policy and therefore the normative framework for acceptable statehood.12 Modernisation of state institutions and practices is integral to this framework; ‗backwards‘ traditional, indigenous or non-democratic structures and procedures are not efficient or effective in meeting the ideals being presented. Thus, modernisation of political and economic structures through democratisation, good governance practices and liberal economics becomes a vital component of the state. Even though an definitive statement of ideal statehood does not exist, policies such as Structural Adjustment Programmes and aid conditionality, together with the promotion of good governance and modernisation of institutions and government support the perception of an ideal, preferred, or acceptable state. In other words, within this literature and policy there exists a notion of the type of state that is preferred by the international community; a type of state that viewed as secure and stable and is preferable to engage with on an investment, development or financial assistance level. In addition to a liberal economy and democracy, the ideal state exhibited within this discourse is one that provides what Jackson terms empirical statehood and what Rotberg identifies as public and political goods. Amongst these are key components of Weberian statehood such as security, but also more socially orientated provisions such as education and health care, the maintenance of physical infrastructure and respect for human rights.13 Whilst there are no specifically stated parameters for this state, the popular characteristics defined by developed states and presented in literature and policy create a picture of the ideal that developing states should strive to become and what the international community should build through state-building interventions.

For those entities aspiring to legally recognised statehood, however, creating the ideal state can become more than just conforming to a normative model of statehood; it can become the perceived path to recognition and therefore to the political, social and economic interactions and benefits that accompany legal statehood. In reference to the enlargement of the European Union, Ghani and Lockhart paint a picture of a structured path for aspiring member states, with the accession to the EU being the end reward for following the pre-determined rules and regulations for membership.14 In a similar manner, the benefits of recognised statehood are the carrot being dangled in front of those territories wanting to be states. In the context of what Jean-François Bayart identifies as a strategy of extraversion,15 or actively seeking external sources of financial benefit, creating the ideal state with the aim of gaining recognition of statehood can become a means through which a territorial entity can benefit from interaction with the international community; the state becomes a strategic tool.

Through the medium of legally recognised statehood, ‗de facto‘ states endeavour to gain access to those areas largely reserved for states, such as legal financial frameworks and developmental assistance through international organisations. The process of creating an ideal modern state, therefore, can be a means to a financially, politically and socially beneficial end.

The concern here, however, is the uniform approach to creating stable or successful states using the blueprinted framework of the ideal state, particularly within non-Western or traditional societies. How are local structures and dynamics

accommodated in the creation or formation of a state, particularly within territories or entities with little or no experience of the modern or democratic state? The model of modern acceptable or successful statehood discounts the centralisation of indigenous or traditional governance structures, particularly in Africa, as they are believed to be backwards, corrupt, unpredictable or unstable. Although indigenous structures are viewed as useful when engaging locally in governance or development projects, their exclusion from the central state creates a situation in which the expectation is the creation of a modern and acceptable state in varied social or political contexts. As a result, modes of social and political organisation that are specifically tailored to the territory and society, yet do not follow the Western model of statehood, are often the target of reform by external donors and institutions as those unfamiliar alternatives do not conform to the ideal and trusted picture of the successful state.

Somaliland is such a case. Outwardly, the outcome of the state formation process in Somaliland appears to be a modern democratic state – albeit an unrecognised one – and the modern practices of the state are widely referred to in Somaliland‘s quest for international recognition of sovereignty. The imposition of modern democracy within the complexities of Somaliland‘s political and social environment was not as simple as just creating a democratic government and modern state practices, however, and was viewed as potentially destabilising by the founders of Somaliland. Because of this, a compromise was reached between clan governance and modern democracy, resulting in a deviation from the model of the modern state with the formation of a hybrid government in Somaliland. The government being formed is thus a product of reconciliation between ‗old‘ traditional structures and the ‗new‘ democratic structures and practices, thereby creating a central government inclusive of and dependent upon both. This thesis will examine the creation of such a state, asking why a modern democratic state was created, why the traditional was included in this state, and how the complex relationship between the old and the new functions in the formation, the growth and the future of the state. This thesis will also consider what the implications of the success this hybrid government are for not only for Somaliland, but for the broader picture in the context of the discourses on state formation and state-building.

Situating Somaliland

Somaliland proves an interesting case in that what is occurring in the territory is state formation that whilst informed and guided by international norms and standards of statehood, is also proceeding as an indigenous process with minimal direct external intervention. In contrast to the fraught filled long-term international state-building project taking place in Somalia, Somaliland is an oasis of calm in the chaos of the archetypal failed state. Although Somaliland appears to conform to the standards and requirements of acceptable statehood, despte its declaration of independence in 1991 it is not recognised as an entity separate from Somalia. Because of its inability to access international structures and institutions that are reserved for sovereign states, achieving recognition of statehood has become a primary goal of the government in the territory, with the creation of a democratic state at the centre of Somaliland‘s strategy. Whilst on the surface the state does exhibit the characteristics of a successful modern state and the government engages in an aggressive international public relations campaign advertising and espousing its success, it does deviate from the ideal statehood mould in that it has incorporated traditional Somali forms of governance in the central state structure in the form of a house of parliament. Whilst there is no conspiracy to hide the traditional nature of this body, its promotion as a primarily legislative body downplays those functions of the institution that are associated with the indigenous clan governance structure.16 With the objective of obtaining recognition of sovereignty in order to be capable of fully participating in the international system of states, and with the structure and function of the state apparatus appearing to conform to the acceptable state framework, the question must be raised of why a traditional institution was included in the government of this aspiring state? Indeed, without the inclusion of this traditional element from the beginning of the state formation process, the territory would not exhibit the level of peace and stability that exists today; and without peace and stability the introduction of a modern, yet foreign, democratic governing structure would have encountered significant difficulties. Whilst the inclusion of the traditional was essential to the initial stages of state formation, however, its continuance in the growing and evolving central government has begun to be questioned by elements within the Somaliland government and society. In order to maintain the uniquely Somaliland structure that has ensured stability, re-negotiating the relationship between the old Somali governance system and the new democratic structures and practices in the hybrid government is the focus of the next phase of state formation in the territory.

For purposes here it is important to distinguish between state-building and state formation projects. The term state-building is predominately used in reference to externally propelled and controlled re-building or re-creation of state institutions in legally recognised and sovereign states. State-building projects are generally based on the pre-existence of a state apparatus in some form; in literature and practice, state- building typically refers to the re-building of a collapsed, failed or post-conflict state or a previously autonomous territory within that state.17 State formation, on the other hand, is not commonly referenced in association with contemporary states. Rather, it is most often used in association with the creation of European states.18 It is the emergence or creation, rather than the re-building or even imposition, of a new state. State formation is the process in which a new state, including its governing apparatus, is domestically created rather than the externally-led restructuring of a pre-existing state structure; it is generally an indigenous process that is starting from scratch or close to it. State formation does not discount the pre-existence of a nation or a sense of nationality, but rather is primarily concerned with the more legal, technical and structural aspect of obtaining recognised sovereignty, as well as creating the governing structure that maintains the Weberian condition of monopoly of force and the modern demands good governance such as social provision and responsibility. State formation, therefore, is creating a new state entity from within rather than externally re-building a pre-existing state. Put simply, state-building is an externally led project aimed at rebuilding state structures and strengthening state functions, whereas state formation is predominantly an internally devised process aimed at creating new structures and functions. Whilst what is taking place in Somalia is an international project of state-building, what is taking place in the northwest territory of Somaliland is an example of state formation.

With the ideal democratic state being the end goal in state-building and development projects, as well as modern state formation projects, a set of guidelines for statehood and a blueprint of the ‗good‘ or ‗strong‘ state have been put forward. Whilst Somaliland follows this to an extent in that what is being created in the territory is a democratic state exhibiting many desired attributes of acceptable governance, the divergence in the inclusion of indigenous or traditional rule in the government sets Somaliland apart. This inclusion still puts Somaliland on the path towards democracy, but it does so in a way not defined by the international community but rather by Somaliland itself. The state being created in the territory is one that makes democracy work by tailoring the ideal to fit and therefore be possible in Somaliland. Because of the deviation, however, the success of the Somaliland challenges the dominant acceptance of the acceptable modern state. In balancing a desire for recognition of sovereign statehood with the need to create a stable governing structure in Somaliland, the shapers of this government have also created an interesting case of state formation for study. The case of Somaliland raises interesting questions concerning not only dominant state-building and state formation discourse, policy and practice, but also questions the ‗cookie cutter‘ approach commonly found in both literature and policy.

With that said, it should be noted that whilst the approach to state formation taken by Somaliland has been successful, it is not the intention of this thesis to suggest that the territory‘s distinctive experience should be carbon copied by other territories or states. What has worked for Somaliland is a tailored fit. Its importance is not that it has created a new blueprint for non-Western state formation or state-building, but that what has been created works for Somaliland and has been successful in creating a strengthening stable state within the remnants of chaotic Somalia. Somaliland is an example of how the model of acceptable statehood fails to acknowledge the importance of local social and political dynamics in contributing to the stability and success of a developing, re-building or forming state. It is because of this that the examination of the government in Somaliland in this thesis focuses on the deviation that has proved to be the foundation for stability in the forming state: the inclusion of the indigenous traditional governance structures into the Somaliland government. It must also be noted that it is not the purpose of this thesis to assess Somaliland through the discourse of right to self-determination. The complexity surrounding the international community‘s response to and policy regarding Somaliland‘s declaration of independence is best saved for a separate project. However, it would be misleading to present the assumption that the inclusion of traditional authority in Somaliland‘s government is the sole reason for lack of recognition. Whilst the power of the clan authority in the government has been noted as a concern, issues regarding Somaliland‘s placement within Somalia and expressed policy protecting territorial integrity in the region are also considerable obstacles to recognition. Until Somalia is stabilised, Somaliland is unlikely to be recognised. The isolation due to this, however, has been beneficial to Somaliland as the territory has been granted the time and space to ―go it alone.

Overall, examining Somaliland‘s state formation experience is valuable on many levels. The territory provides an excellent platform for the study of contemporary state formation, particularly how this is shaped or reactive to normative values of statehood. The territory also proves interesting in examining the interaction between Western ideals and traditional practices and structures. Somaliland is relatively untouched by either researcher or practitioner, making its virtual isolation an interesting test tube in which the indigenously created state and its strategies for recognition, its interaction with the modern acceptable state and its adaptation of the ideal can be studied.

Chapter 2: State Failure, State Formation and State Utilisation
States have historically derived from various specific and by no means universally realised conditions, and the global political system has until recent times comprised areas under the control of states, areas regulated by other forms of governance, and areas with no stable government at all.
The rise and fall of states is nothing new. From the time of Westphalia and European absolutism, states have come and gone in the historical processes of state formation,
The modern Western state has taken centuries to reach what is exhibited today, with a Darwinistic survival of the fittest approach contributing to the evolution of the membership of the international community of states: the modern Western state is the product of a lengthy process rather than a unitary declaration or act. United Nations Plenary Session 864 (1960) and Resolution 2621 (1970), however, altered the exclusive club of statehood and as a result the number of states in the international system increased drastically.The bestowing of sovereignty and therefore statehood upon the former colonial territories, the majority of which are located in Africa, thrust these new non-Western states into the international system as fully sovereign states on par with those states that have existed for centuries. Herbst notes the obvious in recognising that state formation and consolidation in post- Westphalian Europe differs greatly from state formation and consolidation in as within Africa the creation of independent states was superseded by decolonisation and the granting of blanket sovereignty. As a result, what took place within the majority of former colonial territories was not state formation but rather state bestowing that took for granted the existence of state structures and practices. All of this together makes obvious one of the most fundamental yet most erroneous normative assumptions of policy and research surrounding state formation and failure: that all states will reflect or even follow the ‗European path.‘ The above-mentioned resolutions highlight the key distinction between European state formation following Westphalia and recent state formation in former colonies: the blanket sovereignty granted by the international community – through the UN – following decolonisation bestowed juridical sovereignty upon the new states regardless of the existence, or lack thereof, of what are widely identified as ‗functioning‘ or ‗acceptable‘ state structures and practices. As Jackson states, ―[t]o be a sovereign state today one needs only to have been a formal colony yesterday. All other considerations are irrelevant.Whilst empirical statehood was not an explicit concern in the granting of statehood following decolonisation, the opposite is apparent today. Current development policy centres on good governance, or what it means to be a legitimate, competent and accountable state, as vital to development and growth. This is nowhere more apparent than in the 2002 Monterrey Convention, which asserts:
[g]ood governance is essential for sustainable development. Sound economic policies, solid democratic institutions responsive to the needs of the people and improved infrastructure are the basis for sustained economic growth, poverty eradication and employment creation. Freedom, peace and security, domestic stability, respect for human rights, including the right to development, and the rule of law, gender equality, market-oriented policies, and an overall commitment to just and democratic societies are also essential and mutually reinforcing.
Carothers also notes this emphasis on governance in his work on democracy, stating: [i]n reaction to accumulated frustration with the negative developmental consequences of unaccountable, unrepresentative governments in many countries,
the development community embraced the idea that good governance is necessary for development. laden terminology often used in discussions on good governance, such as ‗sound,‘ ‗unaccountable,‘ ‗acceptable,‘ ‗legitimate‘ and ‗competent,‘ denote not only an act of assessment, but also a sense of superiority and judgment – in this case in reference to the developed world towards the developing. These assessments and judgements are apparent nowhere more strongly than in literature and policy regarding what have been termed ‗failed‘ states. Assessing of the effectiveness of states, specifically those within the ‗developing world,‘ and the degree of ‗goodness‘ in the governance of those states evidences the dominance of what Jackson distinguishes as empirical statehood in modern conceptions of what it means to be a state.8 This is not only a sharp departure from the Westphalian statehood applied to the early European states, but also from what was required for statehood in the immediate post-colonial era.
To understand modern state formation, one must first understand the evolution of the conception of the state from juridical conditions derived from Westphalia, through to the empirical pre-eminence found in modern normative values surrounding statehood. This chapter will examine this development as a pre-cursor to a critique of the discourse on failed states. In the context of the assessment of functionality or empirical attributes deemed necessary to be an acceptable or stable state, this chapter will conclude by offering a critique of this value-laden assessment and offering an alternative framework through which to identify and understand non-Western political organisation and practices, particularly within the African state. In separating the non- Western from its Western counterpart, it is possible to examine political organisation and function without assessing its effectiveness or legitimacy against normative Western political practices and state composition.

From Westphalia to Governance
The 1648 Peace of Westphalia is widely accepted as the landmark agreement that laid the foundation for the creation of independent demarcated sovereign states as well as the beginnings of the interstate system. As populations within Europe increased and land became more valuable both economically and politically, sovereigns and other powerful actors began competing for territory. The creation of states within Europe through the establishment of absolutist sovereignty was a means through which the territory of a sovereign could be protected against invasion or usurpation, particularly in border regions. Control of territory and a monopolisation of force necessary to extract rents and taxes was considered vital to the growth and sustainability of the state.9 This concern over clear territorial demarcation and security rather than the provision of social goods as the definitive tenet of sovereignty and therefore statehood was, as indicated primarily by Max Weber,10 a necessary precursor to the formation of the state apparatus itself. The Westphalian state, therefore, favoured territorial security and to a lesser extent, economic security, over humanitarian and social welfare provided by the sovereign. The ability to control a territory and to accumulate the capital necessary to ensure and maintain the territorial integrity of the state was the foundation of early statehood.
Drawing on this Westphalian sovereign guarantee of territorial boundaries, Max Weber offers a concise and widely used conception of the state. Weber asserts that a state is a corporate or bureaucratic group that has compulsory jurisdiction, exercises continuous organization, and most importantly, claims a monopoly of force over a territory and its population, including ―all action taking place in the area of its jurisdiction.‖11 Within this, Weber augments the rudimentary Westphalian conception of the state through acknowledging the empirical actions of the state in addition to the existence of a legal territory. Although under this definition his concern with the empirical maintains the focus on state actions in maintaining security and control within the state as well as the territorial integrity of the legal boundaries, the empirical is inseparably related to the juridical. It was not until his later works – those specifically in response to German political occurrences of the time – that he delved further into an assessment and proposal of the ideal empirical attributes of a state.
Consistently for Weber, if the monopoly of force by the national government is absent, the territory exists in a realm of statelessness. Whilst social, humanitarian, economic and political responsibilities may be interpretively derived from this definition through an examination of the elements of control or organisation, whether charismatic leadership, traditional leadership, or bureaucratic control,12 engrained in this definition is the persistent emphasis placed on force necessary to first achieve and then maintain statehood.
From Juridical to Empirical
Whilst territorial control and monopoly of force within a territory invariably remain essential components of modern statehood, the evolution of what it means to be a state has resulted in increased importance being placed on the actions of the central government outside of the realm of physical or territorial security. As stated previously, Weber expanded upon his definition of the state in response to pre-World War I German politics. Regardless of the German-specific nature of his commentary on the state, it, together with his earlier ruminations, continues to shed light on what Weber believed a state should be: physical security and monopolisation of force remain the primary responsibilities, but the state also should not have free reign in regard to how it treats the population. Due to the specific nature of Weber‘s conception, however, it is difficult to apply it broadly as his Eurocentrism cannot be ignored. Going further in offering a more contemporarily relevant definition, Ian Brownlie incorporates the criteria for statehood codified in the 1933 Montevideo Convention on the Rights and Duties of States in his conception of the state. He describes the state as a legal entity – recognised by international law – with four main elements: a defined territory; a permanent population; an effective government; and
independence, or the right to enter into relations with other states.13 Compared with Weber‘s primarily security centred conception of a state, and with the criteria espoused in the Montevideo Convention, Brownlie deviates in that although he recognises the importance of territorial security, he also places emphasis on the internal occurrences and practices of the sovereign within the element of ―effective‖ government. In a similar theme, Robert Jackson, in his presentation of what he terms quasi-states, articulates that modern states exhibit two forms of statehood: empirical and juridical. Juridical statehood is the internationally recognised sovereignty over a legally delineated territory. Following admission to the United Nations, ex-colonial states, as Jackson argues, ―have been internationally enfranchised and possess the same external rights and responsibilities as all other sovereign states: juridical
statehood. The key identifier for juridical statehood, in this sense, is the granting of the rights and responsibilities of statehood by the international community (in this case, the United Nations) as purely international or external responsibilities based on the existence of legally recognised boundaries. Internal responsibilities are not a component of juridical statehood.
According to Jackson, purely juridical statehood is incomplete statehood. He argues that the modern state must also possess and exhibit empirical statehood, or internal responsibilities. He argues that empirical statehood undoubtedly began with the earliest modern states in Europe, although still in a force-centric manner. Echoing Weber, Jackson affirms that these states, consisted in a populated territory under a ruler who claimed the territory as his realm and the population as his subjects and was able to enforce the claim. He possessed a government apparatus that could project royal power and prerogative both internally and externally.
Although the existence of monopoly of violence continues to dominate, according to Jackson sovereignty in its historic sense was not only respected externally, but was exercised internally. A state was not complete, to use Jackson‘s terminology, if it did not present both external as well as internal sovereignty.
Just as the conception and understanding of the state has changed, it can be argued that the conception of empirical statehood has also evolved.16 When discussing empirical attributes of early mostly European states, Jackson excludes mention of state responsibilities to the populace. His discussion of the inclusion of the responsibility to the people occurs not in a positive manner, but instead becomes a concern when considering the new wave of statehood that occurred following decolonisation. In this granting of ―blanket sovereignty,‖ the empirical was overlooked in the rush to grant juridical statehood. Accordingly:
many [ex-colonial states] have not yet been authorized and empowered domestically and consequently lack the institutional features of sovereign states … They disclose limited empirical statehood: their populations do not enjoy many of the advantages traditionally associated with independent statehood. Their governments are often deficient in the political will, institutional authority, and organized power to protect human rights or provide socioeconomic welfare.
From this, Jackson makes a key distinction between complete and incomplete, or ‗quasi,‘ states in how the two types of states exercise external (over the territory) sovereignty and internal (within the territory) sovereignty.18 To clarify, for Jackson external sovereignty refers to territorial sovereignty and the state‘s ability to engage with the international system as a sovereign entity. Internal, on the other hand, refers to what happens within the boundaries of the state; it is the state‘s ability to effectively exercise authority over the population with the territory. Internal sovereignty, therefore, includes components such as style of governance, the state‘s social provision or treatment of the population, physical and infrastructural development and domestic economic policy. For Jackson, quasi states are those that exercise predominately juridical, or external, sovereignty within which ―sovereignty is a legal fiction not matched by an actual political capacity.‖19 Grounded in the conception of the liberal state, complete states, conversely, are those that have been granted sovereign recognition and that also exhibit what is deemed the beneficial internal workings of a state. Within his discussion of quasi states, therefore, Jackson places conditionality for complete, or acceptable, statehood on the existence of not only exercising the force necessary to maintain the sovereign borders, but also for the state‘s domestic responsibilities to the populace.
Rotberg further expounds upon this emphasis on state provisions in maintaining that modern states are responsible for mediating the ―constraints and challenges of the international arena‖ with the ―dynamism of their own internal economic, political, and social realities.‖ He also identifies the importance of physical territorial security to the existence of sovereign statehood. However, he places security at the top of a list of goods that a state must provide, indicating the importance of security but also noting that it is not the sole purpose for the existence of a state:
[n]ation-states exist to provide a decentralized method of delivering political (public) goods to persons living within designated parameters (borders) … modern states focus and answer the concerns and demands of citizenries … [political goods] encompass indigenous expectations, conceivably obligations, inform the local political culture, and together give content to the social contract between ruler and ruled that is at the core of regime/government and citizenry interactions.
Rotberg stresses that the provision of political goods is vital to the domestic legitimacy of the state, and as such in assessing the empirical performance of a state key political goods are hierarchically identified as valid tools of judgment and evaluation. Within this security is the top priority for successful states, and although Rotberg does not distinguish between physical and human security, based on the remainder of his list it can be assumed that physical security is the primary concern for a successful state. In addition to this, however, other more social-political goods are also ranked as being fundamental to a state‘s legitimacy and success, such as enforceable rule of law, free and fair participation in the political process, the provision of social goods such as health care and education, physical and economic infrastructure, communications infrastructure, environmental protection, sound and logical fiscal policy and even the promotion of civil society.
Under these assessments, states are not complete, functioning or legitimate if they are lacking in the empirical provision of public goods that are perceived as essential to effective rule within the legally recognised territorial boundaries of juridical states. Successful states, therefore, perform in a way that legitimises governmental rule domestically and internationally by protecting the interests and security of not only the sovereign and the territory, but the population as well. It is for this reason that much of the current development focus of the international community, particularly those areas concerned with fragile states or states on the brink of failure, is closing the gap between juridical and empirical statehood.
What is not recognised within mainstream literature and policy, however, is how the empirical evolved in Western states. Western states exhibit vast bureaucratic structures to ensure the well-being of the population. Ministries or departments such as those for education, health, transportation, and social welfare exist within the structure of the state in order to monitor or support the population, creating welfare agencies that exist in parallel to the more Weberian bureaucracies responsible for the physical security of the state. As a result, there is little gap between juridical and empirical. Within those states that are the target of academic scrutiny or development policy, however, there is an assumption that welfare bureaucracies and empirical institutions are either not needed or are already in existence in some sub-state capacity. Within African states, or other states considered to have strong traditionally based societies, for example, there is an unwritten assumption that society is self- reproducing through reliance on traditional structures, meaning central bureaucratic government ministries tasked with social welfare are viewed as redundant or inefficient as the more socially entrenched traditional support structures provide the necessary empirical goods. This is evident in contemporary development policies, particularly those of NGOs, where local indigenous institutions or structures are seen as more effective in social provision than the state and are thus placed at the centre of the distribution or enactment of development assistance.23 If the state, therefore, does not have the primary responsibility over the protection and support of society, what then is the purpose of the state other than to ensure territorial security? If the state is redundant in the area of social provision, what empirical attributes of the central government itself are necessary for the state to be ‗successful‘ and why the firm insistence within literature and policy on closing the gap between the empirical and juridical? Whilst these questions are impossible to answer, it remains important to continue to question the contradictions and the gaps within the normative and uniform expectations for ‗successful‘ statehood.

From Ideology to Action
The importance of the distinction between external and internal sovereignty becomes apparent when comparing international intervention in developing states during the Cold War to post-Cold War involvement. The relationship between the ‗Third World‘ and the West during the Cold War was one of ideological balance – assistance was given to leaders of the developing world and in exchange those leaders would join the ‗democratic‘ or anti-communist side in the ideological struggle. The Cold War patronage system ensured monetary and military support in exchange for ideological conditions; little regard was paid to occurrences inside the state apart from the appearance of ideological conformity and protection of borders. Thus, during the Cold War importance was placed on maintaining territorial boundaries, military capabilities and ideological leanings rather than the inner workings of the state and the relationship between the state apparatus and the populace.
Following the end of the Cold War and thus the patronage system, international focus moved away from the ideological leanings and the militarization of the state. As evidenced in President George H.W. Bush‘s short-lived New World Order, and later prevalent in the output and actions of the United Nations, in particular Boutros Boutros-Ghali‘s 1992 An Agenda for Peace as well as the advent of humanitarian intervention, the empirical actions of state leadership in regards to the treatment and
conditions of the populace became predominant over the state‘s juridical sovereign right to non-intervention.24 What is important to note, however, is that the current focus on state performance and empirical statehood identifies an expanded conception of statehood rather than a sudden change in the nature of the state itself. As Jessop notes, the notion of what it means to be a state is a perpetually incomplete and
Although Jessop discusses the changing nature of the state as a result of changing economic practice, the observation can also be applied to changes resulting from normative values determining what it means to be a state. In other words, what has changed is not the state, per se, but rather the conception or understanding of the state. Whilst provision of public goods and empirical statehood are not new concepts in relation to the state, the focus is no longer solely on the physical attributes of statehood but rather on the more empirical domestic occurrences. The conception of expected state action, both externally and domestically, has shifted from a focus on force to a focus on provision, both to the international community and the domestic population of the state in question. It is within this realm where the legal state separates from the normative state. Where Weber and Brownlie emphasise the legalistic monopolisation of force – a close derivative of the Westphalian state – contemporary conceptions of effective statehood have come to include the state‘s ability to provide for its citizens in the realm of territorial security as well as in terms of political, social, economic, and human security. Whilst the legal definition of sovereignty and statehood has changed little since the formation of the early European states, as evidenced not only by Weber‘s and Brownlie‘s definitions of statehood but also by the United Nations Resolution 864, the normative conception of statehood has evolved. This is increasingly evident within the discourse on failed and fragile states and what it means to be a state in today‘s international system.
Failed States, or Failed Ideals?
The assessment of state performance has reached a pinnacle with the recent attention on failed states. With the post-Cold War focus shifting from the ideological or military state to the humanitarian or governance state, the criteria through which to assess state performance have also altered. Whilst control of territory and therefore physical security remain of high importance in the assessment of state performance, social and humanitarian standards have become more prominent. These new benchmarks for statehood are clearly evidenced in literature concerning failed states.
Semantically, the term ‗failed state‘ is relatively new, although the concept of state failure is not. As Bøås and Jennings ascertain: [a]lthough the rhetorical and policy adoption of ‗failed states‘ is quite recent, intellectually speaking the concept has been around for a long time. Indeed,
‗failing‘ or ‗failed‘ are simply the most recent in a long list of modifiers that have been used to describe or attempt to explain why states residing outside of the geographical core of Western Europe and North America do not function as ‗we‘ think they are supposed to.
They continue in identifying previously used terms within scholarship, including ‗neopatrimonial,‘ ‗lame,‘ ‗weak,‘ ‗quasi,‘ and ‗premodern.‘27 Morton and Bilgin share this view of the place of the failed state in the international system in arguing that the failed state is nothing more than the latest representation of the problematic ―post-colonial‖ state. Whereas the term ‗failed state‘ was made popular by Madeleine
Albright during her tenure as United States Ambassador to the United Nations,29 after 11 September 2001 it became the dominant term associated with states in which there has been an ―implosion of government‖30 and where the absence of central authority creates a vacuum of sovereignty. Indeed, a commonly used definition identifies failed states as those in which ―the central government ceased to function and [is] unable to provide for the well-being of its population or protect it from internal or external threats. A failed state is unsuccessful at maintaining the most basic Weberian norms of statehood as well as in the areas of social provision and human security.
The Fund for Peace in its Failed States Index also considers economic conditions in its consideration of state failure, and the State Failure Task Force adds to these factors such as environmental protection and ―democracy level‖ as variables in its statistical determination of a failed state.
Although ‗failed state‘ is a popularly used term within academia and policy, definitional ambiguity exists surrounding what the phenomena actually is. Thürer, in his attempt to clarify the conception, offers the French language equivalent of etat sans gouvernement, or ‗state without government.‘ However, he also acknowledges that this term is too narrow, leading to a concept that overlooks the function of a state to instead focus on the presence of a state apparatus. He also argues, though, that the term failed state is too broad, encompassing ―the aggressive, arbitrary, tyrannical or totalitarian state‖ that would be considered failed ―according to the norms and standards of modern-day international law.‖ Identifying that neither term is―sufficiently precise,‖ Thürer chooses to use clarify his usage of ‗failed state‘ by stating that it should be understood as indicating a ―disintegrated‖ or ―collapsed‖ state,
thereby offering more definitional and conceptual vagueness in his attempt to solidify the term.34 To add to the confusion, the CIA commissioned State Failure Task Force identifies four different categories of state failure: revolutionary wars, ethnic wars, mass killings (genocide or ‗politicide‘) and adverse or disruptive regime change.35 The 2008 Failed States Index also reflects this extensive definition in that its taxonomical list identifies thirty-five states on ―alert‖ for collapse and failure, with another ninety- two in the ―warning‖ category. Only fifty out of 177 states on the list indicate sustainability or stability of the state, indicating that according to their criteria only a handful of the world‘s states are not failing or at risk of failing. Within these offerings a wide definitional expanse becomes clear, with everything from complete lack of government to poor governance to violent state actions falling into the broad conception of state failure.
Whilst recognising the imprecise definition of the concept, Derrick Brinkerhoff offers a useful elucidation into the meaning of state failure:
[i]n general, a failed state is characterised by: (a) breakdown of law and order where state institutions lose their monopoly on the legitimate use of force and are unable to protect their citizens, or those institutions are used to oppress and terrorise citizens; (b) weak or disintegrated capacity to respond to citizens‘ needs and desires, provide basic public services, assure citizens‘ welfare or support normal economic activity; (c) at the international level, lack of a credible entity that represents the state beyond its borders.
Whilst the emphasis on both territorial security and public goods is clear in this definition, exactly what constitutes state failure, how to assess failure, who assesses failure and whether or not there is an identified threshold that if crossed indicates failure remains uncertain. The exact meaning of the failure of a state is left open to interpretation and assessment, with the control against which a state is assessed being unspecified beyond vague specifications such as citizens‘ needs and desires and legitimate government. Following the arguments of Fiona Adamson as well as Martha Finnemore, it can be assumed that these standards for non-failure, or success, are based on the hegemonic ideals presented by the Western liberal state, thereby raising concerns of Eurocentric determinations, expectations and impositions on non-Western states. In other words, the broad conception of the ‗failed‘ state can be reduced to mean the opposite of the ‗functioning‘ Western state; the ‗failed‘ is the mirror image of the model of the ‗success‘ espoused in and propelled by the liberal state.
As Gros acknowledges, ―even the phenomenon – failed states – is poorly defined‖ as states that exhibit any degree of weakness or breakdown in terms of what is desired of state performance can be labelled failed. Confusion is exacerbated by the often synonymous use of failed with terms such as ‗collapsed,‘ ‗weak,‘ ‗fragile,‘ ‗quasi,‘ and even ‗rogue,‘ all of which have their own separate definitional ambiguity attached. What is consistent throughout the literature, however, is the prevalence of assessment and judgement based on conceptions of Western democratic statehood and the model or ideal state portrayed through normative assumptions. These value laden comparisons of success and dysfunction, particularly those that compose state performance taxonomies,41 paint a picture of superior versus inferior state forms, organisations and actions. The term – the classification, even – brings with it the semantically valued implication that ―[a] failed state[s] is a polity that is no longer able or willing to perform the fundamental tasks of a nation-state in the modern world.‖42 As a failed state is ―utterly incapable of sustaining itself as a member of the international community,‖ those considered to be as such ―subsist as a ghostly presence on the world map.
Yannis reflects on the synonymous use of ‗collapse‘ and ‗failure‘ in saying:
the term [failed state] can mislead if it is understood to imply a value judgement that there are specific standards of social, political and economic performance and success to which all states should aspire, rather than minimum standards of governance that reflect a universal consensus about the minimum requirements of effective and responsible government.
Although Yannis opts to use the ―more descriptive and dispassionate term ‗state collapse‘‖ throughout his work, the above statement highlights the value conceptions surrounding the term failed state; by highlighting the ambiguity it is possible to extract the underlying value assumptions of what a successful state should be. Yannis claims that normative minimum requirements of government should be the basis of performance evaluations, but he fails to clearly identify what these minimum standards are. One can only assume that Yannis is establishing his point of reference for state evaluation as the Western liberal democratic ideals of successful governance and statehood which are prominent throughout the literature on state failure. These value-laden assumptions of what an effective and responsible government should be contribute to a normative understanding, and framework, of what the expected performance of an acceptable or successful state is.
The emphasis on the ideals of successful statehood highlights an important distinction that is prevalent throughout current state failure literature: that of societal responsibility. Yannis, amongst others, makes clear there is an idealised point or standard of statehood at which to aspire that goes beyond the existence of a central government; a standard which incorporates Rotberg‘s political or public goods. It is here that the normative assumptions of what a state is expected to be become clearer: a central democratic government is expected to protect the territory and the people as well as provide certain goods and services. States that do not achieve this, therefore, have failed the standards of statehood, a departure from the more innocuous and literal etat sans gouvernement conception of the failed state. These standards of governance are echoed by Jackson, who claims failed states are those states that ―cannot or will not safeguard minimal civil conditions for their populations: domestic peace, law ad order, and good governance. During the Cold War and the liberation and nationalist struggles in the former colonies, when movements attempted to seize states and remake them in the name of the people the West intervened and armed the states in order to resist these popular pressures. Today, however, the opposite is taking place and the West is intervening to remake states in the name of the people in an attempt to ensure the security of the population. The intervention taking place carries the semantics of modernising and developing, and what is being created is a human security or governance state (see Chapter 3). The implication of failure to society as an aspect of state failure not only displays the value placed on societal responsibilities of states to their populations, but also links the existence of an effective central government to societal stability. The association of the failure of the state with failure
to society deviates greatly from the Cold War assessments of state performance that placed emphasis on military control rather than societal security.
In the early post-Cold War years, state failure was perceived of as being problematic primarily because it was detrimental towards local populations and regional stability. Following 11 September 2001, however, state failure became a widely recognised international security threat. As such, state failure,
is now increasingly identified with the emergence within a disintegrated state of non-state actors who are hostile to the fundamental values and interests of the international society such as peace, stability, rule of law, freedom and democracy… [it is] the descent of a state into Hobbesian anarchy.

The importance placed on democracy and the expectation of this style of governing evident within the above statement again exposes normative standards of statehood.
Failed states are seen as a threat to democracy and therefore are presumably undemocratic and descending into Hobbesian anarchy. These dangerous states which, according to Rotberg, are ―black holes‖ where a ―dark energy‖ exists and where ―the forces of entropy have overwhelmed the radiance that hitherto provided some semblance of order,‖ are antithetic to secure liberal democratic states.47 Whereas this language may appear to be overdramatic, the sense of pessimism and even despair portrayed is typical of the posture found throughout literature on failed states.
Much of this pessimism derives from recognition of the lack of socially and economically focused political goods. Ayoob concedes that ―[w]hat are considered in the West to be norms of civilized state behaviour – including those pertaining to human rights of individuals and groups‖ are ignored or neglected in many states, particularly former colonial states, which are still establishing government structures. Excluded from much of the literature is an acknowledgement that many of those states considered to be failed are former colonial states with relatively new sovereign statehood. Of the thirty-five states identified as failed or failing by the 2008 Failed States Index, only four do not have a colonial past: North Korea, Ethiopia Liberia and Nepal. Amongst the remaining thirty-two, eighteen are found in Africa. All but two of the former colonial states identified as on alert of failure were created in the twentieth or twenty-first centuries, with the most recently independent being East Timor (2002), Uzbekistan (1991), and Zimbabwe (1980).49 As many of these states are new states, it must be acknowledged that they are continuing to undergo the lengthy and often violent process of state formation.50 In this context what is often identified as breakdown and decay of social order can also be viewed as the necessary steps of state formation and consolidation.
The criteria against which failed states are being judged, although often ambiguous or not concretely identified, are criteria established in the context of the Western liberal democratic state created through the lengthy formation of the European state. De jure sovereignty was granted by the United Nations following decolonisation on the assumption that political and economic stability and viability would ensue in the new states.52 What is omitted from much of the study and policy regarding failed states is that former colonial states were admitted into a system that had pre-existing and established norms and standards as to what statehood was; a marked difference from the fledgling system that existed during the time of the emergence and formation of the European state. Because of this, former colonial states must be expected to take a markedly different route towards statehood than European states. In the context of Africa:
Because of this assumption, much of the current literature on state failure focuses on characteristics of the process of failure, with particular attention paid to Iraq and Afghanistan as well as African states. Along with describing and identifying symptoms, but not causes, of state failure, prescriptive methods are put forth for which to pull these states out of their ―tense, deeply conflicted, dangerous‖55 environments in order to make them strong and viable members of the international community of states and reduce the threat they may pose to the rest of the world. That is, they must be ‗restored‘ to the Western-style state that most were granted at independence in order to sustain an effective or functioning future.
Failing the Norms of Statehood?
As Gourevitch critically observes, by viewing state failure as domestic anarchy, analysts and policymakers ―do not have to understand the local dynamics driving the crisis … Instead they can simply treat it as chaos. Implicit in this analysis is that by identifying state failure in Western terms – that is, applying the assessment of failure, chaos or anarchy to situations that do not comply with norms of statehood – the self- image of the ideal Western state is reinforced and intervention to ‗fix‘ or ‗remake‘ the chaotic state is justified. As a result, non-Western forms of political organisation and practice are often overlooked as legitimate forms of state organisation and are therefore excluded from state-building, political development or governance reform projects. Whether they be shadow networks headed by warlords or strongmen, or indigenous or traditional means of social, economic and political control, these forms of organisation can, and often do, provide a form of law and order within the territory or state. The focus of much of the literature on state failure is not on understanding what causes the perceived chaos, but rather proposes possibilities for international intervention into failed or failing states as a means of establishing a functioning government and to restore order, albeit often without taking into account these local sources of order. Within this is the underlying assumption that the key to a successful state, and the key to preventing state failure, is to create a modern democratic state that is familiar and understandable to the West, regardless of the effectiveness of pre- existing structures of control.
Whilst shadow networks are commonly associated with criminality, traditional or customary structures are also viewed negatively in the context of the liberal normative framework of statehood. In his explanation of the evolution of the state Weber defines traditional authority as legitimated by sacred traditions and considers it an important early step on the path to modern statehood.58 What is important to note, however, is that Weber does not endorse the inclusion of traditional authority in the end result of modern statehood but rather rejects legitimacy based on it as archaic or retarding progress. Indeed, Weber‘s conception of traditional legitimacy identifies it as ―the authority of the ‗eternal‘ yesterday; the perceptions of backwardness, regression and negatively being stuck in the past60 place traditional authorities in a position that is contrary to the creation of a modern ideal state. The attitude expressed by Weber is echoed in contemporary liberal policies aimed at state-building, reform and development.
Whilst rejecting the inclusion of traditional authority in central government, international institutions do often recognise benefits resulting from the utilisation of traditional structures in local projects. Institutions such as the World Bank view that ‗legitimate‘ traditional governance structures, as opposed to ‗illegitimate‘ structures such as those headed by warlords or strongmen, can play an important role in enabling development projects and governance reform within local communities by utilising pre-existing and well-known social, political and economic structures. However, as Garrigue notes, this does not come without conditions as there is a ―particular phase‖ in the evolution or strengthening of a state after which traditional structures can become useful. It is only when traditional structures ―become one among other stakeholders of the local governance‖ and are parallel to the state rather than a component of or a competitor to modern governance that they can be effective in implementing or enabling policies or reforms and therefore can be accepted within the scope of the project.61 In other words, it is only when traditional authorities become complicit in and therefore controllable through the project that they become useful. As such, the traditional authority becomes another level of complicit elite within the state. The recognition of the benefits of traditional authorities, however, rarely extends into the sphere of central government, particularly democratic government. As indicated, traditional authority and legitimacy derived from traditional structures in this realm are often perceived of as being backwards, unpredictable, unreliable and contrary to the practice of modern democracy and the existence of a modern state.
The stance of international institutions and development organisations in regards to the inclusion of traditional authority in a modern central government is indicative of the bias against centralised traditional governance. Ottaway and Mair argue that these actors ―seem to respect the essential rules of civilized behaviour,‖ but often do not have access to means of coercion and are therefore ineffective in maintaining the basic security requirements of a state.62 The Weberian emphasis on security is not the only concern, however. As the United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (UNCAE) Traditional Governance Focus Group explains, traditional authorities are incompatible with the ideal of democratic government: in democracies ―rulers are not chosen by divine right or on the basis of a hereditary entitlement,‖ meaning that ―[o]ne of the difficulties for chieftaincy is its incompatibility with the democratic ideal‖ of recognises the predominant view of the relationship between modern democracy and traditional authorities in governance discourse and practice as being competing paradigms of governance at extreme opposite ends of the Shivakumar expands on this, stating that within liberal international policy there is a common perception that traditional authority simply cannot be trusted. Accordingly, although a traditional authority has the potential to be beneficial in an institutional or central capacity, as every component and historical aspect of that authority cannot be traced or identified the risky elements of the unknown and the unpredictable are too great. Shivakumar goes further, stating that as we have to ask whether the terms of competition among alternative problem-solving routines have been conditioned with respect to specific normative standards as reflected in the agreed on rules of the game,‖ there is no way of ensuring that the traditional authority in question is the optimal option.65 Therefore, in comparison with the ‗tried and tested‘ system of modern democracy and acceptable statehood, because the traditional institution cannot be traced through the ―sieve of time and trial…we cannot…expect the result of processes of institutional evolution to produce,
Whereas the unknown impacts only minimally on localised projects, and therefore the international community as a whole, the uncertainty surrounding an institutionalised version at the state level is perceived to be too great and therefore the risk should be excluded.
Critical of interventions, Milliken and Krause argue that strong and legitimate state institutions must have their roots in local populations and organisations; externally shaped institutions are not the best solution to the lawlessness and anarchy that is associated with state failure.67 Ottaway echoes this in saying that attention must be paid not to ―the creation of institutions but to ―generating power and authority. Chopra identifies the difference between a crisis due to the collapse and failure of government and a perceived crisis of legitimacy within a structurally sound, albeit non Western-style state structure in saying, ―there is a profound difference between anarchy defined as the absence of a national executive, legislature and judiciary, and the actual breakdown of indigenous social structures.‖69 To quote Gourevitch, ―[w]hat state failure discourse misses is that the central issue during political crises is a crisis of legitimacy. With little attention being paid to understanding the political structures and socio-economic-political environments in which failure takes place, unfamiliar non-Western state structures are often labelled as failures and prescriptive
methods of intervention are proposed in order to ‗cure‘ the dysfunctional. Milliken and Krause note:
one way to think about the contemporary anguish over state collapse is to note that what has collapsed is more the vision (or dream) of the progressive, developmental state that sustained generations of academics, activists and policy-makers, than any real existing state.
What has failed, therefore, are not solely a small number of individual states, but also the dreams of the proliferation of the ideal state that has not been realised.
Forms of political organisation that do not mimic or comply with the familiar Western state or the picture of an ideal modern state are often present in states identified as failed; it is often these forms that create the basis for and often provide the rule of law, monopoly of force and social provisions mandated by the acceptable state. However, they are often overlooked, ignored or not identified by academics and policymakers due to their unfamiliar nature or due to the presence of a multiplicity of actors exercising variable forms of non-centralised control over regions within the state‘s
The dominant vehicle for survival and prosperity in the international system continues to be the state,74 although domestic expectation of the state may not always reflect the desires and demands of the liberal normative framework. Within this the possibility exists for a state to exhibit the apparatus and structure of the acceptable state whilst also utilising those structures in a manner not consistent with the expectations of the modern state. This will be discussed further in the following section as well as in Chapter 3.
One of the key criticisms of the ideal state is that there is no uniform model in practice. The Western liberal state is hailed as the solution to weak or problematic states, yet there is a significant degree of disparity between the political organisations of Western states, particularly those within Europe. This lack of a practical model, as well as lack of recognition of variance in proposed solutions, is a significant gap in the literature.75 Despite the lack of a singular practical model of the ideal state, there is also an inability amongst its proponents to see benefits outside this framework. As a result, non-Western or non-liberal forms of political or state organisation that may challenge the uniform applicability of the ideal state are often overlooked or rejected. This is not to say that in all instances the idea of the state is dead or being abandoned, but rather that not all states and societies exhibit, or benefit, from the
cohesiveness and uniformity espoused by the ideal state. This does not mean that those states need to be fixed. In some cases, such as Somalia, applying a standardised prescription for success through uniformity has been unduly negative and has resulted in chaos. The lack of a central government or the presence of a non-Western or weak government does not automatically mean there is an absence of control or provision, and a weak or absent government does not doom the state to the Hobbesian anarchy as claimed by Yannis as parallel, shadow or social institutions may fill the empirical gaps. Success in a non-Western form of state or political organisation does not mean an abandonment of the state design altogether, but rather an alternative to the political and state organisation enshrined by the ideal state. Much of the current literature, however, fixates on the supposed anarchy created by the absence of a central democratic state rather than recognising other forms of governance that emerge to provide order and organisation in the absence, weakness or ineffectiveness of a government. Menkhaus, in his examination of political order in post-1991 Somalia, recognises that Somalia is ―stateless‖ but not ―anarchic.‖ He identifies that: local communities have responded [to the failure to revive a central government] with a wide range of strategies to establish the minimal essential elements of governance. What has emerged in Somalia are fluid, localized polities involving authorities as diverse as clan elders, professionals, militia leaders, businessmen, traditional Muslim clerics, Islamic fundamentalists, and women‘s associations.
He continues to note that following Kaplan‘s ―The Coming Anarchy: the collapse of the central state authority is synonymous with anarchy, violence, and societal breakdown. Somalia shows that local communities in Africa have proved more resilient, more politically innovative, and less passive in the face of a crisis of governance than Kaplan and others have assumed.
In this case, shadow structures exist parallel yet peripherally to officially recognised structures.79 These shadow institutions provide the necessities of daily life – what could be identified as political goods – in place of the virtually powerless formal state institutions. Peter Little argues that the story of Somalia ―sharply challenges conventional ideas about economy, politics, and social order and confronts the very
premise under which Western diplomacy and development agencies operate‖ in that Somalia exhibits dynamic governance structures created by not only warlords but also entrepreneurs and, most prominently, the Somali clan system.
Whilst Somalia is an extreme example of state failure, governance structures that emerged following the 1991 collapse of the central government highlight the possibility for better received state organisation in states that do not have a positive record of the Western-style state. Whilst there is much focus on the value assessment of state success based on the comparison of these states to Western democracies, what is not recognised is the value of alternative forms of political organisation and thus alternative sources of public goods, state control and security. As such, success or failure is judged primarily on what Western components are missing in non-Western states. In the same manner, the dominance of a uniform approach to state action is misleading as alternative motivations for action are removed from consideration and agency is seemingly removed from the target state. The following section will examine an Africa-specific approach to studying and understanding the state that creates a means through which to view the state and its interactions with the normative framework of statehood outside the ideal-tinted Western lens. In identifying non- Western forms political organisation and state action in this way, autonomy must be recognised within the state in question: the state may be influenced by the international community but it cannot be automatically assumed that it is controlled by the international community. In other words, dominant normative models may inform and influence, but they may also be manipulated and exploited and therefore must not be viewed as uniformly and singularly dictating the structure of the state, particularly
The following section will explore this alternative explanation of state organisation, action and motivation in relation to the framework of acceptable statehood.

‘The Politics of the Belly’ and Extraversion
The current literature on state failure contains normative assumptions portraying a hierarchy of states in the international system, negatively comparing what are perceived to be failed states to those that fit the ideal model of a state. As a result, those states that fit the acceptable normative mould are identified as more successful than those that deviate from the norm. As Bilgin and Morton identify, labelling these states in the hierarchical sense is an extension of previous practices found in colonial
the continuum of success and failure is simply a continuation of the practice of reacting to ‗different‘ or non-Western style states in a value-laden and patronising manner. The same can be noted in what Duffield claims is the increasing attention paid towards those states identified as fragile: ―As expressions of state ineffectiveness they represent the antithesis of what policy makers and many academics conceive as effective, successful or robust states.As a result, failed or fragile – unsuccessful – states are regarded as backwards or inferior and are treated as such, as evidenced in the prescriptive recommendations for not only failed states, but also those fragile states considered to be on the brink of failure or collapse. In many parts of sub-Saharan Africa, the geographic region with the highest number of states considered to be failed or at risk of failure, the benchmark modern state acting as the acceptable standard of statehood arguably has never existed. Instead, unique and complex forms of political, social and economic organisation characterise even those states that appear to conform to the framework modern democratic state. Whilst it must be understood that this observation cannot uniformly apply to all sub-Saharan African states and it cannot be applied to all actions, it does offer a starting point for a useful tool for understanding interactions between the African state and the international community. Largely associated with the work of Jean-Francois Bayart, this approach to African politics extrapolates key components of political systems found in Africa – components that assist in identifying and understanding the African state in the context of the model of acceptable statehood.
In his book The State in Africa: Politics of the Belly, Jean-François Bayart identifies patterns of resource and financial accumulation as an historical trait correlated with patterns of power accumulation within sub-Saharan African societies and therefore within states. In what he terms ‗politics of the belly,‘ the personal accumulation and public redistribution of state or community wealth and resources are central to the accumulation of political power and control. Simply put, according to Bayart in these states wealth equals power: sub-Saharan African leaders have historically fought (both literally and figuratively) for the accumulation of wealth in order to strengthen their political (power) positions within society. As Bayart argues, this is an established and accepted form of obtaining and maintaining political power within sub-Saharan Africa. Politics in Africa, therefore, can be viewed as a politics of consumption as well as selective redistribution of wealth to the population calculated to maximise the returns necessary to sustain consumption of the elites and the state.
What is important to recognise in this, though, is the subjects of Bayart‘s analysis are the strong actors – the political leaders – within the territory or state, thereby excluding the impact on the majority of the population from the analysis and conclusions. Even though Bayart argues that political power was also gained from what was given back to the population, thereby linking the actions of the powerful to the population, the amount of power granted by the domestic population should not be overestimated and the cost-benefit calculations for the elites must always be considered when examining what appear to be negative consequences of extractionary practices and relationships.
In Bayart‘s framework, political power arises first from the personal accumulation of wealth and resources extracted from domestic natural and fabricated resources; from the domestic population these come in the form of taxes, rents or other forms of extraction, and from external sources they are from interactions such as foreign monetary assistance, development assistance, investment or trade. Although the concept of obtaining the capital accumulation needed to form the state is not new,85
and some such as Mamdani and Reno have identified the continuation of the relationship between the maintenance of personal wealth and public political power as a colonial legacy that creates a weak or corrupt state, Bayart claims these practices of accumulation as power are an ahistoric personal and political practice not specific to a period in the continent‘s history and identifiable in pre-colonial, colonial and post-
Whilst some view these extraction-based political processes as negative, unstructured or deviant forms of political control, Bayart identifies European and African state formation and political development as parallel process linked by a co-dependent utilitarian relationship. As such, African extraction and redistribution practices may be different to Western political practices but are no less legitimate and are necessary for the development of not only the African state, but also the European state.87 Within the explanation provided by Bayart, the formation and maintenance of the state in Africa, and with it internal and external political practices, must be viewed as ongoing indigenous processes with roots in the pre-colonial era. In addition, these processes must be viewed as largely dependent on maximising not only domestic extraction but also external utilitarian relationships, part of which Bayart terms strategies of extraversion.
Within his work, Bayart argues that the pre-colonial, colonial and post-colonial African state actively sought external sources of personal and state income in addition to domestic extraction. Bayart states that despite the tendency in current scholarly work on Africa to identify the continent as isolated and with a history that began with Western intervention, in actuality Africa has a rich history in international interaction and extraversion that pre-dates colonisation. He states that with the emergence of dependency theory, ―[t]he theme of the isolation of Africa from the rest of the world, and of African societies from one another, is a key one in the negation of their historicity.‖ Because of this view, the place of Africa in history is often identified as being with ―that of the western world which had made them dependent. History shows, however, that African leaders have long sought resources from outside the African continent, particularly Arabia and Asia, prior to European colonisation. Bayart states:
[r]elationships such as those which African societies maintained with their external environment were crucial to the constitution of their internal politics, even if the
effects of this connection between the two spheres of the internal and the external varied from place to place and time to time.

Bayart argues that there has been active compliance throughout the history of external relationships, including during the period of colonisation. From this observation he derives what he terms strategies of extraversion: looking externally for the resources necessary to maintain accumulation and political power. He states that the leading actors as well as subaltern actors in Africa prior to colonisation had found that the external environment had turned into ―a major resource in the process of political
centralisation and economic accumulation.‖90 In order to sustain political power or even political movements, dominant actors in African states have looked and must continue to look outside the state for the resources necessary to form and maintain a base of power. As these strategies are not specific to any space or time, they can be formulated to maximise benefit for the specific territory during specific periods; strategies employed by one territory or state may differ from those employed in neighbouring areas, and strategies employed by one regime may be rejected by preceding regimes. Consciously devised strategies of how to best benefit, exploit or extract from the international community thus becomes an integral component of the maintenance of the African state, and the entirety of the state is utilised as those in positions of power become ―active agents in the mise en dèpendance of their
societies.‖91 Unlike in dependency theory, though, the dependency discussed here is identified by Bayart as voluntary, and these practices therefore become an established necessity for political leaders, making the survival of a political organisation as a whole dependent on tactical strategies of creating relationships with actors outside the state. Therefore, dependency is not a consequence of underdevelopment or continued external exploitation, but is rather a result of conscious practices which are central and vital to domestic political power, survival and control.
Bayart argues that interactions through extraversion are central, and vital, to the maintenance of the state in sub-Saharan Africa as interacting with the world economy through purposive strategies allows for the continuation of centralised accumulation of resources which then fuels and augments personal political power. As Bayart notes, the Western world is not responsible for forcibly, or even charitably, integrating
Africa into the world economy; it is and always has been the ―magnetic field of the world economy that is pulling Africa in.92 In its interactions with the international community, however, political considerations are also a concern of the African state as the sovereign power of the state itself becomes a component of strategies of extraversion. William Reno, in his exploration of warlord politics within recognised states, echoes Bayart‘s paradigm in noting that ―rulers of weak states discovered that
outsiders‘ recognition of their sovereign status could be used to attract aid from outsiders that filled in for absent domestic political resources.
The key here, however, is attracting international donors‘ recognition of legitimate sovereign power. Although the practice of extraversion has been consistently utilised throughout history, the strategies are altered to adapt to the changing global environment; as necessary conditions for the establishment of economic or political relationships change, the strategies of African states also change. From Bayart‘s observation of active compliance in the period of colonisation to conditional reform agreements for economic assistance, strategies of extraversion can be recognised as a key tactic in the formulation and maintenance of political power and actions in Africa.
Bayart establishes the groundwork for an understanding of political processes and state formation in sub-Saharan Africa, highlighting agency within the African state in the formation of beneficial, but not necessarily exploitative relationships with external actors. As Bayart argues, ―Africa‘s contemporary political struggles and wars are not the consequences of a radical rupture – colonisation – but are symptomatic of a historical line of continuity, namely, a practice of extraversion.By separating the distinct histories of European and African political organisation and state formation, whilst also recognising the complex relationships between the two regions, a better understanding of African states and their relationships with the international community can be attained. Whilst Bayart is very specifically focused on sub-Saharan Africa, his theory opens important considerations for other regions of the world as well by carefully identifying a localised response to and accommodation of Western hegemony in the international system. Whilst the Western-style state may be the basis for a normative model for statehood, through Bayart‘s lens interactions with this framework through conditional investment, development projects, state-building or governance reform can be identified as a component of strategies of extraversion. In other words, the relationships between the international community and the African state can be understood as conscious strategies or interactions rather than paternalistic dictates. Whilst Bayart‘s theory is not perfect, he offers a strong contribution to the understanding of the actions of the state, as he traverses the internal-external divide that is commonly associated with the state in Africa and thereby gives autonomy and conscious action a prominent place within those states that are so often negatively perceived.
One key criticism to be made about Bayart‘s contribution is his truncated view of the interactions and relationships between African states and the international community. Although within his theory of extraversion he offers a positive explanation as to why African states engage in what are often viewed as exploitative relationships, the basis of his theory does not sufficiently account for the difference between pre-colonial Africa and post-colonial Africa. Although his examination focuses on the placement of the African state in the global economy, in his placement of the African state in history he diminishes important periods such as colonialism to the point where the lasting impact of those interactions are largely overlooked. He also divorces external economic interactions from domestic political or social interests. Although his theory does offer the explanation that political power in the African state is dependent upon the accumulation of resources, his theory of extraversion does not fully account for the impact of domestic demands and domestic legitimacy stemming from interests that are not rooted in economics. In doing so, Bayart‘s current theory does not allow for a more complex understanding of the web of interactions composed of internal needs and demands, the state and its functions and structures, and external pressures and conditions. Through recognising different stages of African history and the legacies left by the different actors involved, however, a more involved approach can be taken. In identifying key historical impacts on the African state, some, such as Mamdani, periodise colonialism and its conclusion as the watershed period for means of at which time the African actors were institutionalised into the international system through the granting of sovereign statehood. The blanket sovereignty granted during decolonisation marked a key period in the history of the African state in which the former colonial centralised bureaucratic structures of control were translated into sovereign states in the global system. The new medium of interaction had significant implications not only for how leaders and the new states could establish new relationships, but also for the tools available for future strategies of extraversion. In addition to demands placed on the functions of states, increased domestic awareness and demands on the state, fuelled not only by the involvement of international organisations and workers but also through social and technological advances such as the Internet and satellite television, ensure that economic interactions alone cannot define the actions of the state. By including both domestic and external demands onto Bayart‘s economic base, a more involved understanding of the social-political-economic relationships involved in the African state and its interactions with the international community can emerge.

Conclusions
The structural inclusion of the former colonies into the international system through the medium of the ‗inherited‘ Western state altered the means for external interaction. With a place in the international community of states, the new leaders were able to use the state itself as a tool in strategies of extraversion. Throughout the Cold War period ideological demands were placed on these interactions and relationships. In the post- Cold War world, however, with emphasis placed on the effectiveness or success of empirical statehood the state apparatus and practice itself becomes a means through which to attract resources. With increased international interdependence and the systemic importance placed on development as security, attracting aid or investment can be a lucrative practice for a state deemed worthy of assistance. As a result, domestic political power can no longer be solely reliant on personal wealth but also becomes associated with the state‘s relationship to international stipulations for acceptable statehood. With the introduction of conditionality attached to loans or assistance coming from international financial institutions such as the World Bank or the International Monetary Fund, structural changes within the African state became commonplace as a means through which to comply with the demands necessary to maintain the flow of funds and resources into the country. The alteration of state institutions and practices, or the appearance of such, is a means through which to attract foreign investment and as such, strategies of extraversion are not only economically determined but are politically determined as well.
Although Bayart claims that the politics of the belly should not been seen as a representation of African states as the ―objects of outside manipulation,‖ or the continent‘s history as being identified with ―that of the western world which had made them dependent,‖96 it is difficult to completely overlook the external influences on the state in Africa, including the legacies of colonialism. The introduction of a central authority that was initially dependent upon the largely rural indigenous or traditional structures in order to maintain or legitimise rule – either economically, politically or
both – is a lasting legacy for the previously decentralised political organisations in many of the sub-Saharan African states. Even Bayart himself concedes to the impact of external influence (but not determination) in saying:
[t]he baroque style of contemporary political constructions is the result of many different formative processes and borrowings from political repertoires, made possible by cultural heterogeneity and extraversion.97
These strategies of extraversion have contributed to the adaptation and maintenance of African political organisation for the domestic population, as well as in relation to international community through the adoption of necessary conditions for the continuation of an economic or political relationship. This is apparent particularly in the context of the normative assumptions surrounding the form of state acceptable to the West. The model of the successful or ideal state becomes the benchmark of statehood for those states seeking to maximise interactions with other states in the international system. The normative liberal framework of statehood thus becomes a vital tool in the portfolio of extraversion strategies. The next chapter will examine this tool in greater depth, focusing particularly on normative lessons implied in the practice of creating acceptable states as well as the ways in which these norms are reflected in the practice of not only strong states and international institutions, but also those states or de facto states seeking improved relationships with the international community.

Chapter 5: The Emergence of the New State
We are in de facto. De jure is only missing. May 1991, the former British Protectorate Somaliland declared its
independence from the troubled state of Somalia and has since functioned as an unrecognised de facto state, balancing the demands of international expectations of statehood with domestic necessities for stability. Although Somaliland officially declared its intention to separate from Somalia in 1991, the build-up to this action began almost from the outset of the unification that created the state.
Whilst the previous chapter addressed problems with the 1960 unification and the two government regimes, this chapter will highlight the increasing separation between Somaliland and Somalia that contributed to the territorial break-up of the state. In particular, this chapter will examine the complaints of the north against the south, as well as Somaliland‘s history during the end of the Barre regime and the period leading up to the declaration of independence. The focus will largely be on the impact of Siad Barre on Somaliland, with the Ogaden War as the departure point from which to examine the formation of Somaliland‘s liberation force and the extrication of Somaliland from the union. Discussion will then turn to post-1991 state formation in Somaliland.

The 1960 Act(s) of Unification and Non-unified Somalia
As stated in the previous chapter, the former British Protectorate of Somaliland and the former Italian Somalia joined together under the guise of Somali unity to form the
state of Somalia in 1960. However, ―[t]he mechanics of establishing a unitary administration [in the new Somalia] were daunting.‖2 Two days after being granted independence by the British government, the Somaliland Legislative Assembly passed the Union of Somaliland and Somalia Law, legally signifying the new state‘s acceptance of the union with the Italian colony upon its independence. On 30th June, the southern Constituent Assembly also adopted an Act of Union, although this was done ―in principle‖ only as the territory did not become an independent state until 1st July.3 For six months, the two separate Acts of Union constituted the only legal binding between the two territories until January 1961. Although a single retroactive Act of Union was passed by the Somalia parliament, its acceptance by the southern dominated legislature did not reflect extreme opposition to it from the north. As Drysdale notes, ―the union between the two countries quickly lost its bloom‖ as northern discontent became increasingly apparent. As early as 1943, calls for unification of the Somali people were being made within the Somali inhabited areas. The desire for unification was closely linked with the nationalist ideal of transcending ‗tribalism‘ and abolishing ‗wasteful‘ clan rivalries in
order to allow for all the Somali populations to come together as a nation under one sovereign flag. The calls for Somali unification and the strengthening nationalist movements in the Italian colony and the British Protectorate were eventually supported by the colonisers and the United Nations.5 Even with the knowledge that the differing colonial experiences and legacies would pose structural and logistical problems, a quick unification was pushed for by all parties involved with the expectation that the differences in the administrative traditions and experiences of the
two territories would ―sort themselves out afterwards.‖6 Because of this, leading up to 1st July important logistical and technical questions pertaining to the unification of two vastly different territories and their administrations were ―suppressed rather than
In addition to differing legacies resulting from the different colonial administrations, the unified state was also facing problems resulting from logistical and institutional variations such as unequal economic, social and political infrastructures; a lack of roads of communications links between Hargeisa and Mogadishu; and even different operating languages of English in the north and Italian in the south. The powerful drive of Somali nationalism was not enough to ensure the survival of the state, and the anticipated problems soon became apparent.
The immediate post-independence government of Somalia was a unitary republic based on parliamentary democracy, yet political distribution between the two former colonies was uneven. Of the 123 members of the new unicameral Somalia parliament, only thirty-three represented the former British Protectorate.8 Of the initial fourteen ministerial posts in the new government, only four were held by men from the
―Northern Regions,‖ with Somaliland‘s prime minister holding the highest position of
Although Lewis noted in 1965 that the new government of Somalia ―represented a reasonable balance of northern and southern interests,‖ it is difficult to overlook that ―politics became centralised in Mogadishu.‖10
The northern territory, which had entered the union with a less developed economy and physical and social infrastructures, also encountered marginalisation in allocation of government spending. With the new state being administered almost solely from Mogadishu, unparalleled economic and social opportunities were created in the southern city that could not be matched in Hargeisa. As Mogadishu grew as a vibrant cosmopolitan city offering political, social and economic advancement, Hargeisa experienced a social and economic decline as unemployment increased and members
of the population moved south seeking opportunities not available in the north.11 The former northern capital ―had declined to a mere provincial headquarters remote from the centre of things … northern pride found it hard to match this reduction in prestige.‖12 With the majority of political seats being held by southern Italian trained politicians, coupled with economic and social marginalisation, it was not surprising that the former Somaliland Protectorate – the only Somali territory that ―heeded the nationalist call‖ from the south to relinquish sovereign independence – was frustrated by the lack of benefits received compared to what many believed was their sacrifice.13 A national referendum on the provisional Somalia constitution reflected this frustration, with a northern boycott of the ―problematic‖ June 1960 referendum clearly reflecting the ―growing mood of discontent and resentment‖ over what was seen as the unfair unification.14 The referendum thus became a test of confidence in the new government and, by extension, in the union itself. Despite the boycott as well as sixty percent of northern votes that were cast going against the constitution, southern votes easily carried the measure.15 The government in Mogadishu did not fully appreciate the ―obvious danger signal‖ coming from the result of the referendum in the north, though. This threat was realised in December 1961, however, when frustrations over the perception of undue favouritism of the south brought some in the north to rebellion in the form of an attempted coup aimed at ending the unification.16 The dissatisfaction of the army officers who staged the coup mirrored the dissatisfaction of the people of Somaliland, and according to Lewis, the coup attempt was widely regarded as a signal of extreme dissatisfaction with the union and as an attempt at secession.17 Although by
1967, when a northerner became Prime Minister of Somalia, the integration of the two former colonies became an accepted fact, northern discontent did not disappear entirely.
Significantly, the unification of Somalia and Somaliland also brought about a change in the balance of power between the clans. As Lewis notes, ―despite the patriotic fervour … the all-pervasive element in politics remained the loyalty of the individual to his kin and clan.‖ The unification of the two territories into one political entity
―entailed significant, and in some cases quite drastic changes in the political status of the various clans and lineages within the state.‖19 Despite what were believed to be modernising influences, such as the establishment of national political parties and the proliferation of education, identification with the clan remained the primary allegiance and the centre of life for the majority of the population. Because of this, politicians began to utilise bonds of kinship for political aims, thereby creating fractures along clan lines in the new political parties and in the government. In the north, a considerable majority of the population belonged to the Isaaq clan, making it a powerful force in the former Protectorate. In a unified Somalia, however, the Isaaq in the government were significantly overpowered by the southern clans. In other parts of Somalia clan allegiances did not stand out as a distinct and separate cleavage nor did they uniformly align to create a single division in society. However, the reduction in the political status of the Isaaq clan, whose distribution throughout the state was almost entirely restricted to the former Protectorate, impacted upon the position of the north in the increasingly clan-based political realm. As power centralised in Mogadishu and as politics and the government became inseparable from the clans, the north became increasingly isolated.
During the nine years of the democratic government in Somalia, unification of the two former colonies was never fully achieved and discontent of perceived northern inequality added to the mix of dissatisfaction throughout the state. Although following the 1961 coup attempt the north received a larger share of development projects and new industries, the divide between the north and the south was difficult, if not impossible, to bridge and northern discontent was not silenced. Even though the democratic government in Somalia was short lived, the isolation of the north under this government would not soon be forgotten, and the rule by Siad Barre only strengthened feelings of frustration with the union, particularly following the 1977-78 Ogaden War.

Mohammed Siad Barre, the Ogaden War and the “Isaaq Issue”
Whilst the separation between north and south that became apparent in the early years of the new state was not enough to end the unification, it did lay the foundations for the eventual division of the state. This is not to say that the isolation of the north was a pre-requisite for the state‘s collapse, but rather the continuation of these divisions was
―sowing the seeds of growing Northern discontent with the union … leading, nearly three decades later, to its dissolution.‖21 The break-up of Somalia, whether inevitable
or not, was certainly hastened by the rule of Siad Barre and the impacts of that on northern Somalia.
As Dool states, under Barre, ―Somalis in the North were made second-class citizens in their own homeland.‖22 Not only did Barre‘s twenty-two year rule have a lasting impact on the placement of the clans in society, but his practices also significantly widened the gap between the north and the south. The 1977-78 Ogaden War between Somalia and Ethiopia was particularly devastating to the former British Protectorate, resulting in increased animosity amongst the population and triggering the Isaaq
movement that would eventually ‗liberate‘ Somaliland. The main focus here will be on the impact of this war on the northern region.
A major component of Barre‘s rule was the revival of Somali nationalism. The dictator‘s call for a Greater Somalia, however, did not aim to unite all the Somali
territories, but instead focused specifically on annexing the Ogaden region of
In this quest Barre involved Somalia in the separatist struggles of two Somali movements in the Ogaden: the Somali-Abo Liberation Front (SALF) and the Western Somalia Liberation Front (WSLF). With one of the largest and best equipped armies in Africa, Barre exercised his nationalistic plans almost solely through force.24 Starting in 1975, clandestine units under the control of the Somali state were operating in support of the separatist movements within Ethiopia‘s Ogaden region, and by 1977 a full-scale war had broken out between Ethiopia and Somalia. This war brought defeat to Somalia, to Barre, and to the unified state.
Somalia‘s defeat in the Ogaden War ―decisively buried the dream of a pan-Somali state,‖ effectively ending almost two decades of the nationalist call. The conflict itself was devastating for all of Somalia, but was particularly harsh in the north. The demise of the nationalist motivation, however, was also devastating to the ethos of a single Somali state that had brought the former Protectorate into the union. The Ogaden War not only marked the beginning of the end for the Barre regime and the Somali state, but it also aggravated those existent feelings of mistrust between the north and the south.26 The isolation of Somaliland had effectively begun almost
immediately upon unification, but Barre‘s policies during and after the Ogaden War marked the turning point for the continuation of the union. The separation between north and south was exacerbated by the consolidation of Barre‘s rule within his own lineage and his brutal tactics, but more significantly the lines of division were deeply
entrenched by the physical, social and economic impact of the war and its aftermath on the north. All of Somalia felt the impacts of the Ogaden War, but due to its geographical proximity to the fighting the northern region experienced the majority of the physical and human destruction. It also absorbed large numbers of Somali refugees fleeing
Ethiopia, overwhelming the population of the region. Approximately a quarter of a million refugees were settled in the north by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees with the approval of the government of Somalia, and overflow from designated refugee camps spilled into the major cities creating chaotic conditions.27 As international aid was funnelled into the area, aid resources earmarked for the refugees became a source of envy and resentment for local residents as no compensation was given to them for bearing the burden of the war. To further problems and resentment, following the end of hostilities Barre heavily favoured the Ogaden refugees, most of whom were members of his lineage. In addition to government and aid resources that went to the refugees before the people of the northern territory, and the refugees also enjoyed preferential access to social services, business licenses and even government posts.28 As expressed animosity and discontent in the north grew, refugee militias were created and armed by the Barre government to quell any rebellion and protect the refugees, thereby creating a dangerous and hostile situation in the northwest.29 In what was essentially buying off the Ogaden refugees through continued preferential treatment and protection, Barre was ensuring their
loyalty to his regime at the expense of the Isaaq who were not only bypassed for economic, social and political advancement, but in many cases were also forcefully suppressed by both the Somalia army and the refugee militias. This practice gave Barre a power base in the northwest, a region of Somalia where he had never been able to fully exert his power. However, it also exacerbated the division between the north – primarily the Isaaq – and the southern regime and led the population in Somaliland to begin taking steps to remove themselves from the Somali Union.
The increased militarization through the formation of refugee militias complemented Barre‘s already violent handling of the northwest region and the ―rebellious‖ Isaaq, as well as his increasingly centralised regime which depended largely on bought loyalties.30 During and following the Ogaden War, Barre had suspected the Isaaq of supporting and assisting Ethiopian forces, even though many in the northwest initially and enthusiastically backed Somalia‘s war effort.31 This suspicion was a key factor in Barre‘s often violent treatment of the northwest, however, and after its defeat in the Ogaden the Barre regime became ―even more repressive‖ as the primary method of exercising power in the northwest.32 As such, ―[t]ensions between the local inhabitants and the refugees were just a symptom of the government‘s cynical manipulation of kinship divisions within Somali society for the purposes of divide and rule.‖33 In the case of the north, this tactic was characterised by brutality and violence targeting the Isaaq and carried out by those benefiting from Barre‘s patronage practices. By early 1978, ―the regime had concentrated the economic resources of the country in its hands, using their selective redistribution to ensure loyalty to the regime.‖ Large amounts of foreign aid, including that directed towards the refugees in the north, were
―diverted and misappropriated‖ by Barre and his ―cronies.‖35 By the end of his rule Barre had isolated himself in his small resource-rich inner circle, turning the one-party Somali state into a one-man state. Increasing economic neglect and deprivation, stringent controls on trade, increasing centralisation of administrative functions in Mogadishu, and the growing brutality of the Barre regime, both from the army as well as from the Barre-supported refugee militias, again pushed the Isaaq in the north to open rebellion against the regime.

The Rise of the Somali National Movement and the Fall of Siad Barre
In response to the increasing centralisation of resources and power, as well as increasing governmental brutality against anyone suspected of being disloyal to Barre, the Somali turned to their clans for not only basic needs such as food and water, but also for protection from Barre‘s government troops. It is undeniable that the increasing repression and brutal tactics of Siad Barre directly influenced the formation of militias and liberation groups throughout Somalia. As Mohammed Said Gees recalls, ―[a]fter Ogaden, we got a demoralised army that had lost the war. Loads of
guns, loads of attempted coups,‖37 the first of which occurred in 1978. Fear of a
successful coup caused Barre to tighten his hold on the population through heightened reprisal violence and pre-emptive persecutions. To counter the well-armed and well- trained military, many clans and sub-clans formed their own militias for the protection of their people and resources, and armed resistance groups emerged throughout the state. These bands of militias were a key component of the overthrow of Barre as they actively sought regime change in the state. From the various militias, two main political movements emerged, the United Somali Congress (USC) and the Somali National Movement (SNM). Unsurprisingly, one of these – the Isaaq-led SNM – originated in the north.
The liberation struggle in Somaliland began with the 1981 formation of the SNM in London. Begun by a group of Isaaq politicians, students and civil servants who had left Somalia, the SNM was established with the aim of toppling the Barre regime and instituting a democratic government in Somalia that would be inclusive of and based on the clan system.38 According to Lewis, upon its formation the SNM ―articulated Isaaq grievances ranging from inadequate political representation, neglect in development, and the frustration of local businessmen and exporters chafing at economic controls.‖39 From the outset, the SNM conveyed that even though it was primarily an Isaaq movement, it was fighting for all of Somalia and as such it would
eventually coordinate its efforts with its counterparts in the south. The SNM was fighting for the overthrow of Barre, not the independence of Somaliland.
Structurally and logistically, the SNM was both a political and military organisation formed within the Isaaq population. The movement consisted of two separate wings: a political wing tasked with making necessary political decisions and garnering logistical and physical support for the movement; and the military wing responsible for fighting Barre‘s forces. For many involved in the SNM, the military wing was necessary for the struggle, but the political component was of primary importance and the focal point of the movement and its goal of giving the government back to the
Largely because of the existence of a separate political wing, unlike its counterparts in the south the SNM had the ―ability, capacity and interest to form an effective government in Somalia. The political wing itself acted as a quasi-government for the movement, not only making important decisions concerning the actions of the movement but also functioning as a diplomatic entity for the SNM. The practice of participatory democracy in the SNM‘s Central Committee brought traditional Somali decision making practices into the body, and the institutionalisation
of a council of clan elders (Guurti)42 into the political wing established a system of checks and balances to constrain the actions of the military movement and to give the SNM the social and political capacity necessary to promulgate its stated aim of a democratic government. This focus on consensus politics and the inclusion of the familiar and customary clan system secured support from a majority of the people affected by Barre‘s retaliatory campaigns. The actions of the SNM during the campaign not only created trust in the movement, but also facilitated the political foundations that would emerge following the military victory.
In February 1982 the SNM moved its base of operations from London to Ethiopia where the movement gained assistance from the Ethiopian government and rooted its
support in the Isaaq in the country.43 From there the SNM waged open rebellion against the Barre regime through incursions, attacking army positions in Somaliland and then returning to Ethiopia. Barre responded to this campaign with ―disproportionate violence‖ against the population in the north and in particular the Isaaq, marking the start of the movement‘s involvement in Somalia‘s civil war.44 The mounting repression against the Isaaq in the northwest was documented by Africa Watch: [t]he government exploited the emergence of the SNM to justify indiscriminate violence against individuals and groups that criticized government policies and leadership, or merely because of clan affiliation … Whenever the SNM launched an attack … that area was subject to harsh reprisals, including summary execution, the burning of villages, the destruction of reservoirs, the indiscriminate planting of landmines and the killing and confiscation of livestock, the lifeline of the nomads.

In spite of the violence waged against the Isaaq within Somalia, because of its base in Ethiopia the SNM was able to escape prolonged direct confrontation with Barre‘s forces. In April 1988, however, Barre and Ethiopian leader Mengitsu Haile Mariam agreed to halt support to Somali armed movements based within the two states. As a result, the SNM not only lost support from the Ethiopian government, but it was also lost its base of operations. If the campaign was to continue, the SNM had no choice
In May 1988, the SNM forces began their move into Somalia by taking control of Hargeisa and Somaliland‘s second city, Burco.47 Barre‘s response to these actions was a new level of violence to handle the ―Isaaq
ordering the shelling and aerial bombardment of the major cities in the northwest and the systematic destruction of Isaaq dwellings, settlements and water points. These reprisal attacks forced an estimated 300,000 Isaaq and non-Isaaq to flee to Ethiopia.49 With assistance from clan elders from all the Somaliland clans and sub- clans affected by Barre, the SNM garnered enough physical and logistical support from the influx of refugees to enable its continuing move into Somalia.
The Isaaq in the north, facing increasing isolation, exploitation and violence from the Barre regime, had long since turned to the clan for protection, and the emergence of the SNM offered this on a larger scale. Whereas military action initially concentrated on the Isaaq, broad hard-won support for the SNM throughout the territory and amongst the different clans meant that as the SNM became a Somaliland movement rather than an Isaaq movement (see Chapter 6). As this happened, almost the entirety of Somaliland became the target of increasing state violence. The disillusionment with Somali unity that had emerged during the democratic government became cemented in the northern mindset. As the war intensified and the violence increased, though, the stated aim of the SNM continued to be the overthrow of Siad Barre rather than independence for Somaliland.
In January 1991 the United Somali Congress ousted Barre from Mogadishu and the SNM began its final campaign in the north. After continued fighting and a bloody campaign in the north,50 the SNM claimed victory over the army of Somalia in February 1991.51 The SNM took no part in fighting that took place in Mogadishu following the overthrow of Barre and it did not become part of the first post-Barre government. Its exclusion from political occurrences in post-conflict Somalia, although viewed as disastrous at the time, would prove to be an advantage to the people of Somaliland. Whilst the south continued to descend into chaos, the people of the north began the long process of reconciliation and reconstruction. The end of Barre‘s regime brought the beginning of state collapse and failure for the south, but also brought promise to the north.
The road to peace in Somaliland was not bloodless, and the end of the civil war did bring retributive acts against those who had supported Barre or those who were in opposition to the SNM. Because of actions of the SNM, however, this violence was kept to a minimum. Once Hargeisa was liberated, the SNM Chairman of the Central Committee, Abdulrahman Ahmed Ali ‗Tuur,‘ immediately sent SNM commanders and clan elders throughout Somaliland with instructions for the SNM and the people to not seek revenge against Barre‘s supporters.52 Although the civil war had created divisions in Somaliland society, the majority of the population had in some way supported the SNM. Because of this and the non-violent post-war stance of the SNM, there was a low level of animosity between the Isaaq and other communities and cessation of hostilities was expedited.53 In addition to its immediate efforts, the SNM leadership allowed for a reconciliation process led by the elders of the Somaliland clans rather than asserting its authority in the territory through force; this step helped bring about an end to the fighting and laid the foundations for the envisaged democratic government.54 The bottom-up road to peace and reconstruction was the first and only avenue taken. In February 1991, the SNM and the elders of Somaliland began the peacemaking process by convening the first of many national shir (see Chapter 6). This process aimed to reconcile the fractured Somaliland society so that work towards introducing a new government could take place, with reconciliation efforts falling firmly on the shoulders of clan elders. At the second of these national conferences held at Burco in April and May 1991, the representatives of the Somaliland people resolved to create a new and independent state, and the agreement reached there established the
―cornerstone of the peace‖ that allowed for the creation of a government in Somaliland.55 A succession of national conferences and local initiatives has continued since 1991, working for further reconciliation as well as a strengthening of governance and government in the territory. Whereas the next chapter will focus on the role of traditional authority in establishing and maintaining the Somaliland state, the remainder of this chapter will offer an overview of the post-war creation of the hybrid state in Somaliland.

Going It Alone: The Declaration of Independence and the Beginnings of the State
The initial goal of the Somali National Movement was realised when Siad Barre was driven from power in January 1991. However, when the newly formed interim government in Mogadishu excluded the SNM, the war-devastated people of the northern territory feared further repression from the south if the union were to
Although independence was not an original goal of the liberation movement, under popular pressure the SNM leadership was compelled to consider and then formulate plans for secession. On 18th May 1991 the representatives at the Burco Conference revoked the 1960 and 1961 Acts of Union and declared the secession of the Republic of Somaliland from Somalia. Based on the territorial boundaries of the British Protectorate of Somaliland at the time of its independence, the creation of the new Republic was a ―pragmatic stance to distance the north from the factional fighting in the south,‖ as well as a recognition that the people of the north, particularly the Isaaq, had minimal physical, economic, social or political stake in Somalia. According to Bradbury, it was also believed that the foundations of security and stability in the north would attract much needed international aid that would not be linked with or conditional upon occurrences in the south.57 Declaring independence from the chaotic
and governmentless Somalia was a relatively simple task. The creation of a state, on the other hand, was a monumental task facing the people of Somaliland, as Somaliland needed to prove both to its people and the international community that it was not going to be another Somalia.
Following the declaration of independence, the SNM quickly established a government based on the structure of and formed from the leadership of the movement. The SNM had always advocated that the clan could not be ignored in Somali politics as ―the clan system lay at the root of political stability, social cohesion and economic activity.‖58 Thus, the intention of the leadership was to create a modern
democratic government that also included traditional Somali practices, including customary social contracts (xeer) and the moderating roles and practices of clan elders, as ―without the traditional sector protecting the integrity of its values, a reversion to authoritarian rule over the democratic essence of the body politic could not be excluded.‖59 The hybrid government that resulted is specifically tailored to Somaliland, and this is often credited with the establishment of peace and stability in the territory. As Abdirahman Aw Ali Farah notes, the hybrid system ―began from when we [the SNM] were in the bush‖ when a council of clan elders (Guurti) was incorporated into the political operations of the SNM.60 The fusion of this stabilising clan governance structure with the stated democratic desires of the SNM carried over into the immediate post-independence state formation period and into Somaliland‘s government.
Following the declaration of independence the SNM did not automatically assume control of the territory. Instead, the first government that was formulated at Burco was mandated to the SNM by the clan elders at the conference, thereby legitimising the rule of the movement with the sanction of the elders. The political-military separation established by the SNM during the liberation struggle eased the transition between liberation movement and ruling regime as the political structures were already in existence and were translated into the government structure. The political wing of the SNM, which had acted in the role of the executive during the liberation struggle, assumed leadership of the territory under former chairman of the SNM cum interim president, Abdulrahman Ahmed Ali ‗Tuur.‘ The legislative branch of the new government also came from the SNM: one house of the new bicameral legislature came from the SNM Central Committee, whilst the other was filled by the elders (Guurti) who had assisted the SNM during their military campaign. This purpose- driven and permanent institutionalisation of the traditional guurti brought the once non-centralised and ad hoc clan governance structure into the central government of the forming state.
Tuur‘s interim administration was tasked with two key issues. First, peace needed to be established throughout the territory and fighting between those who had supported
Barre and those who had not, as well as between clans attempting to profit from the chaotic situation, had to be stopped. The institutionalised Guurti was instrumental in achieving this. Second was building a functioning government in the new state, which proved to be fraught with difficulties. As Lewis notes, Somaliland‘s initial years were testing and Tuur struggled to generate the income needed to finance the government.
In addition, the continued existence of militias undermined public security and the government‘s attempts at reconciling the rifts created by the war.61 Tensions within the SNM also quickly became apparent as factional pursuits emerged in the absence of the common and unifying enemy, Barre. As a result, lasting support for Tuur‘s administration was difficult to obtain; his ability to complete the tasks was questioned and lack of cohesion within the SNM threatened to derail the interim administration.
In 1992, fighting again broke out in Somaliland between Tuur‘s government forces and a coalition of militias loosely based on clans and linked with opposition factions within the SNM. The violence that started in Burco and quickly spread to Berbera and
Hargeisa ―reduced [Somaliland] to a state of near-anarchy.‖62 Throughout the civil war clan elders had been vital to gaining popular support for the SNM, and in the post-war return to fighting the SNM leadership and the population again turned to the clan elders, this time the now permanent Guurti, for guidance and assistance with reconciliation. In October 1992, at the town of Sheik, the Guurti negotiated a cease- fire to end the conflict. Another national reconciliation conference, the 1993 Grand Borama Conference, was convened to address the causes of the violence.
The Borama Conference was an important milestone in the formation of the government in Somaliland. It was a ―make or break event‖ in the creation of the state for on the agenda were two vital items: reconciliation and security, and state formation. A national committee of 150 Somaliland elders representing all the Somaliland clans and sub-clans comprised the voting delegation at the conference, and during the four months of the conference more than 2000 Somalilanders attended or participated.63 Significantly, the Borama Conference, as with most of the national shir,
was funded almost entirely by Somalilanders and members of the Diaspora. Without the pressures exerted by international donors, the people of Somaliland were able to establish what they perceived of as best for the territory at that given time. In the words of Gerard Prunier, Somaliland ―[went] it alone.

Rejecting ‘Anarchy’: Peace, Reconciliation and Making Somaliland
Whilst the international community was present in Somalia under the guise of the United Nations Operations in Somalia (UNOSOM I & II), the leaders in Somaliland clearly expressed their desire for the UN to stay out of the northern territory. Somaliland‘s quest to be treated separately from the south in regards to aid or international assistance became apparent almost immediately when Somaliland‘s leaders were offered UN assistance through UNOSOM II. As the aid would have been under the auspices of the UN‘s state-building project aimed at reconstructing a unified and functioning Somalia, this assistance was refused. As Abdullahi Duale recalls, when UNOSOM commander Admiral Jonathan Howe met with leaders in Hargeisa they told him, ―thank you, but we don‘t need your help.‖ He continues in his reflection in stating, ―[w]e appreciated Operation Restore Hope, or whatever it was called, but
we were busy with institution building. In rejecting international assistance, Somaliland also rejected internationally led mediation and reconstruction efforts; instead depending on conflict resolution mechanisms present in the clan system and clan governance structures to create the foundations for the state. Starting with Burco, a series of national shir took place aimed at ending the violence and, following Borama, establishing the framework and guidelines for the procedural and institutional structure of a new state. Within these, the institutionalised Guurti was used in lieu of international mediators and state-builders to carry out and oversee conflict resolution and the formation of a government. In the national shir reconciliation conferences, the clans of Somaliland came together in discussion and negotiation and the agreements reached became customary law (xeer), thereby binding all of the clans to the outcome. The agreements made at Burco ended the violence resulting from the Somalia civil war and began to lay the foundations for the introduction of a new government. The 1993 Borama Conference continued these processes.66 Throughout this series of national shir the clan system, clan elders and customary practices were used by the SNM, including its institutionalised Guurti, to negotiate a state.
At the Borama Conference two significant agreements were made: the National Charter and the Peace Charter. Together these formed Somaliland‘s first interim constitution and served as the basis for continued peace-making and state formation during the transition period. In addition, at Borama the clan elders serving as representatives of the communities transferred power from the SNM factional rule to a civilian system characterised by community-based governance (beel) and power- sharing between the clans. Remarkably, in accordance with the agreement established by the elders at the 1991 Burco Conference, after two years of rule the SNM leadership peacefully stepped down in order to allow the civilian administration appointed by the elders at the Borama Conference to take control of the territory and continue the formation of a state. Mohammed Ibrahim Egal, the first prime minister of Somaliland in 1960 and the last civilian prime minister of Somalia in 1969, was appointed as the first civilian president and was tasked with leading the transition to Although not chosen through a national plebiscite but rather by the council of clan elders, Egal was a highly respected and experienced leader who was regarded as the ―right person for the job‖ of guiding the territory through the period of state formation.68 The Borama Conference not only succeeded in establishing a legal framework for the government and transferring power to civilian
rule, but it also marked the start of the remarkable local efforts undertaken to establish a modern Somaliland state.
The establishment of the Peace Charter and the National Charter laid constitutional foundations upon which the new government would be built. The Peace Charter was created as a direct response to security issues that arose after independence was declared, in particular the fighting that had broken out in 1992. The Charter not only recognised the importance of the clan elders in ending that conflict and emphasised
their position in reconciliation and peacemaking, but also officially regularised and institutionalised the role of elders in establishing and strengthening security in the territory. As an agreement between clans and therefore binding customary law, the Peace Charter established a structure in which demobilisation of the militias and the remaining SNM factions could take place, and in which law enforcement and the judicial system could be established.69 It therefore ―set out a clear code of conduct, which the council of elders and people of Somaliland were to follow, so that harmony and security could exist as desired at independence.‖70 This legal acknowledgment of the importance of clan elders in establishing a secure environment conducive to the creation of a state not only tasked the elders with the maintenance of stability, but it
also constitutionally sanctioned the institutionalisation of the previously ad hoc guurti as a governmental body.
Whereas the Peace Charter was concerned with establishing and maintaining a stable and secure environment, the National Charter addressed the need for state institutions founded on that stability. Ratified with a two-year mandate, the National Charter outlined the framework for the new government, authorising the appointment of a president and the bicameral parliament and the establishment of an independent judiciary. In addition, the National Charter mandated the creation of a permanent constitution under which a democratic government would develop. The government outlined by the National Charter was not only to be a modern democracy, but it also allowed for every clan and sub-clan to be represented in the parliament as well as promoted consensus politics, a type of decision making with a long history in Somali society. In essence, the National Charter “established a government rooted in a clan
system with a fusion of the western system.‖71 The fusion of the ‗old‘ – the Somali clan system – with the ‗new‘ – modern democracy – is regarded as the cornerstone of stability in the Somaliland government.
With the Peace Charter firmly identifying the need for peace and stability upon which a government could be created, and with the National Charter establishing the foundations for a hybrid government tailored to Somaliland, the intentions of those
involved in creating these two documents were clear. Bradbury notes that within both Charters there are clear links to the original vision of radical governance reform proposed by the SNM, who envisioned a democratic government rooted in the clan system.72 As Lewis notes, the most novel feature of the new government structure was an,
imaginative innovation in the shape of a bicameral legislature, with a non-elected upper house of traditional elders (the guurti), and an elected lower house of representatives: a kind of compromise between the old clan-based SNM and the exigencies of modern administration.
Starting with the first national conference at Berbera, the clan elders had played a vital role in the establishment of peace in the territory and in laying the foundations for the government. As such, many involved in the creation of Somaliland‘s government claim that the clan elders provided the bedrock for the establishment of Somaliland and the spine for the continued stability of the emerging state.74 The importance of the clan system in the new government was enforced in the institutionalisation of the clan elders as the upper house of parliament – a house responsible for the maintenance of
peace and stability as well as mediating and guiding the state formation process. Because of their respected position both within and outside of the emerging political
structures, the elders became the impartial and self-less ―King Makers who were responsible for sanctioning the new government and appointing its members. The prominent placement and power of the clan elders in the hybrid government not only confirms the importance of the clans in the territory, but also reflects the recognition that the inclusion of the clan system was essential to the success of creating the new state.
With the foundations laid at the Borama Conference, President Egal began constructing the state in Somaliland. With the vital assistance of the clan elders and starting with the basic foundations of security, the Egal administration was able to make advances in moving from existing as a break-away territory to creating a separate state. The first step in this was the demobilisation of the militias begun in 1993 and undertaken primarily by the upper house of parliament through negotiations and agreements with local clan elders. Although complete demobilisation and
disarmament did not take place, as early as February 1994 an estimated 5000 militias had been disbanded and disarmed.76 While demobilisation was not as effective in the eastern Sanaag and Sool provinces, the main population centres in the west as well as the route from the port of Berbera to Hargeisa were secured. In addition, through his clan associations Egal was able to gain control of the port of Berbera, the primary import-export centre and a major source of revenue for Somaliland.77 With the improved security situation and control of the port, Egal was able to drastically increase financial resources available to the government as taxes could be levied throughout the territory and customs duties were collected.78 In addition, increased security brought more investment money from the diaspora community which funded
projects such as improving infrastructure and establishing businesses. Under Egal security in the territory drastically improved and the economy boomed.Whereas Tuul‘s rule was characterised by inadequacy, Egal‘s administration was able to ride the ―wave of euphoria after Borama‖ and oversaw remarkable progress in establishing the institutions and functions of a state.80 Key to this progress, though, was Egal. Throughout his rule the initial euphoria continued and the charisma and influence of Egal, as well as his popularity and veneration from the people, greatly benefited the emerging state. As the current vice president of Somaliland, Ahmed Yusuf Yassin, stated, Egal was the ―man who made the base foundation for Somaliland. He knew the culture of the elders, he knew the culture of the people, he knew the culture of the west. He knew how to bring them together.‖81 Although Egal was revered, his clan connections and political savvy cannot be overlooked: in many ways he was an opportunist, not necessarily for himself but for the project, and he utilised numerous avenues to press the state formation project further. Egal maintained tight control over Somaliland, not in a dictatorial manner but as a strong leader managing the creation of the government and the infrastructure of the state. Under the guidance of Egal, state ministries were established, government buildings were built or restored, the central bank of Somaliland was re-opened, a new currency was printed and introduced, regular business working hours were established, and a civil service agency was created. A national army, customs offices, local and regional judicial systems, a legal system and a police force were also established. The infrastructure of the major population centres was repaired and work began on improving transportation links between the major cities. Communications links were improved and links were made to domestic and foreign NGOs and the UN through the newly created planning ministry. Schools were set up, hospitals were re-opened and sanitation services were established. A minimum wage was introduced and civil servants were paid regularly. A working relationship was also begun between the central government and regional authorities within Somaliland.82 In addition, the government institutions first mandated by the National Charter began to govern. Laws were passed and the legal system was updated. The Egal administration was building the attributes of statehood – the public goods articulated by Rotberg – concurrently with building the institutions of a state from the ground up. All the trappings of statehood were beginning to emerge, even those often overlooked such as the printing of postage stamps and the composition of a national anthem. Building on the extraordinary security measures accomplished with the help of the Somaliland clans, the Egal administration began ticking the boxes of acceptable modern statehood.
Although considerable progress was made establishing the institutions of government in the first two years of Egal‘s rule, according to Bradbury the state remained politically fragile and was increasingly vulnerable to a shift in power between clans and politicians.83 The potential for instability and return to conflict is reflected in the high cost of security in the first year: fifty percent of government spending went to defence and the police, whereas health and education received only seventeen percent jointly.84 This fragility was exposed when fighting again broke out in the territory in
1994. Largely sparked by opposition to the government and fuelled by desires for personal gain, this return to conflict was a substantial setback for the new state.
A combination of factors, including inter-clan hostilities, continuing dissatisfaction from SNM factions that felt the government had ―slipped from their hands,‖85 the clash of powerful egos, unremitting struggles over control of Hargeisa airport, and a backlash against attempts at expanding government control outside the capital city, came to a head when ―the Borama process moved from the conference hall to the proving grounds of Somaliland.‖86 The return of fighting first broke out in Hargeisa and quickly spread to Burco. It was seen by many non-Isaaq clans as an Isaaq problem that concerned only the political and economic elite. Despite this belief, the conflict involved the heaviest fighting since the civil war, with tens of thousands of people fleeing Hargeisa and Burco and with widespread destruction of property.87 The war also damaged confidence in the new government and its ability to maintain order and security within the territory. As Bradbury notes, ―the war threw Somaliland‘s viability into doubt.‖88 In order to resolve the conflict, the Guurti opened negotiations and mediation efforts and another national conference was convened in Hargeisa beginning in 1996. At the conclusion of this five month conference a peace agreement was reached, ending Somaliland‘s last major conflict to date. The grievances of those in opposition to the government were also addressed and the reconciliation process was expanded beyond the clans, resulting in greater inclusion within the government as well as peaceful means through which to address opposition opinions and groups. Just as importantly, though, were the endorsing of a new provisional constitution to replace the National Charter and the establishment of a schedule for the transition to a multi-party democracy.89 Egal was re-elected as president by the delegates and a new vice president, Dahir Rayale Kahin, was chosen. Faith in the government and its ability to end conflict and maintain the peace had been severely damaged by the conflict, but after steps taken at Hargeisa confidence was partially restored and the next step in creating a multi-party democracy was taken.

Codifying the Hybrid: The Constitution and Democratic Elections
The founders of the Somaliland state made it clear that the government structure and functions must be mandated and defined by a constitution and thus it became a priority to make Somaliland a constitutional state. Creating the Somaliland Constitution was a lengthy and difficult undertaking, but as Abdullahi Duale states,
―[you] can‘t draw a constitution overnight and say this is it.‖90 With the new interim constitution drafted at the Hargeisa Conference in place, work was begun on a permanent constitution in 1997. The final product was then adopted in 2001 following a national referendum.
The National Constitution of Somaliland is a compromise between two separate drafts: the interim constitution and a draft proposed by Egal. After lengthy negotiation and compromise between the two drafts, the final constitution was ratified by a margin
of one vote in Parliament and a national referendum was prepared.92 Even with a completed document to put before the people, Egal faced significant opposition as the document mandating democratic elections potentially threatened the political positions of those already in the government. With this as well as public uncertainty following the lengthy process, the Egal administration needed to push hard to gain popular support for the document. Thus the president very publicly linked a yes vote for the constitution as a yes vote for independent statehood, implying that the democratic practices to be established by the constitution were a pre-requisite for international
The campaign was successful: the 2001 national referendum returned public approval for the constitution and it was quickly ratified by Somaliland‘s parliament. The power of the new constitution and the stability of the new government were put to the test, however, when in May 2002 Egal died suddenly. Upon hearing the news, one government minister is reported to have wept ―not because Egal died, but because of what will happen to [Somaliland].‖94 These fears
were unfounded, however, when the constitution was closely followed and Vice President Rayale peacefully took office.95 The first of many tests for the Somaliland Constitution was passed, and opposition to the process of introducing democracy was diminishing in Somaliland.
The structure of the government found in the constitution mirrors that established by the National Charter: an Executive led by a president, a bicameral legislature, and a Supreme or Constitutional Court.96 The constitution mandates that the president, vice president and lower house of parliament be elected through popular elections, and that government ministers and court justices be appointed by the president and confirmed by both houses of parliament. The upper house of parliament is where the institutional inclusion of the clan in Somaliland‘s hybrid government can be found. Codified in the constitution, the House of Elders (Guurti) is the continuation of the permanent clan council that first emerged within the SNM leadership, and its membership is drawn solely from clan elders. The membership of the House of Elders continues to be nominated by their respective clans and officially appointed by the president. Whereas the eighty-two popularly elected members of the lower house represent geographic political constituencies, the eighty-two appointed voting members97 of the upper house technically represent their clans, although many members of the House claim they represent all of Somaliland.98 The membership of Somaliland‘s Guurti functions both as a clan council and as a parliamentary body (see Chapter 6).
Although the House of Representatives ―forms the first part of the country‘s legislative, passing laws and approving and overseeing the general political situation and the direction of the country,‖ the upper house is the more influential of the two parliamentary bodies.99 The House of Elders also holds legislative powers, and all legislation passing through the lower house except for those pertaining to the budget and finance must be passed by the upper house before being signed into law by the president. The Guurti, as the representation of the clan, also has sole jurisdiction over legislation concerning religion, traditions and culture. Whilst the legislative duties are important, more crucially the Guurti continues to be responsible for the maintenance of peace and security in the territory as well as reconciling between the people and the government and within the government itself. As the general secretary of the Guurti states, ―the Guurti is both legislative and cultural. It still plays an important role in linking the two. You can‘t just impose democracy. The Guurti acts as a link between the old and the new.‖100 The Guurti also acts as the key advisor to the government, and as such has a wide purview of powers that are rarely checked. As part of this role, the upper house has the exclusive power to extend the terms of any member or branch of the government, a power that has been exercised on a number of occasions when it was deemed that the territory is not capable of holding elections due to lack of resources, instability, or war.101 As the physical as well as symbolic inclusion of the clan, the House of Elders is seen by many as the spine of the Somaliland government, a position which grants it broad power.
Powers of the other two branches of government are also defined by the constitution. As expected, the Supreme Court is the highest appeals court in Somaliland and is responsible for interpreting the constitution. Powers granted to the president, on the other hand, are broad and highly interpretable. The constitution is often referred to amongst government officials and members of civil society as ‗Egal‘s suit‘ as it gave the first civilian president wide latitude with which to create the state.102 Given Egal‘s esteemed status in the territory and his political prowess, these broad powers benefited
the stability of the territory and the government as they paved the way for quick reform as well as creating a means through which security and stability problems could be immediately addressed.103 Without giving Egal this wide purview, it is likely that the early years of state formation would have been significantly more difficult for Somaliland.104 With the strengthening of institutions and practices, and with the popular election of both the president and the House of Representatives, however, the ‗suit‘ no longer fits the purpose, and the broad powers given to the President are beginning to be checked by the representatives of the people. The resultant changing dynamics of the government are exposing the holes in the Constitution that had allowed for the growth of the government, but are now ―creating more problems than solving.
Although the Somaliland government is grounded in the clans, safeguards have been put in place to protect against the destructive clan politics that plagued the 1960-1969 government of Somalia. These measures primarily restrict political parties and electoral practices. The constitution allows for only three political parties which cannot be clan based and must be representative of all the Somaliland clans. These parties were officially confirmed following local elections held in 2002, with the three parties obtaining the largest number of votes in that election, UDUB, Kulmiye and UCID, becoming the official parties. An elaborate practice of party-list proportional representation is another means through which to protect against clan politics. In this system, theoretically the party becomes more important than the clan in determining representation, although in reality the backing of clan leadership of often needed for a
With the clan as the dominant organised social community in Somaliland, it continues to play a role in the political process, but limitations placed on its infiltration into the political process have thus far eliminated the one clan-one party practice that plagued Somalia‘s democratic government.
On its path to creating a modern democracy, Somaliland has so far held three national elections. The first was the 2002 local elections which also determined the three official political parties. In 2003 presidential elections were held in which President Rayale, representing the UDUB party, was narrowly elected for another term in office by a margin of eighty votes.107 Despite the close result, the runner-up refused calls from his party, Kulmiye, to establish a rival government in the territory and instead chose to respect the electoral process. This election marked the first peaceful contest over leadership of the forming state. Deemed relatively free and fair by international observers, the 2005 parliamentary elections were also conducted peacefully.108 Problems arose following the vote, however, when the popularly elected majority comprised of the two opposition parties was incorporated into a government that had previously been dominated by Egal‘s party (UDUB). Contention over leadership of the newly elected House of Representatives emerged, but was resolved peacefully through negotiations moderated by the House of Elders and with the opposition parties maintaining the power and influence associated with their electoral victories. The next rounds of local and presidential elections were scheduled to take place in early 2008, but have since been postponed until 2009 (See Chapter 7). Although the election process in Somaliland has not been flawless, as one Somali researcher states, ―[t]his country is a lab…We‘re still going through the process, still experimenting.‖109 Despite the minor problems encountered, beginning to introduce and establish the
democratic component of the hybrid government was a milestone in the state formation process in Somaliland.

Although much has been accomplished in Somaliland, those involved in creating the hybrid state realise that the framework, both on paper and in practice, is not perfect, and as of yet many functions of the emerging state are still weak. The framework for the government and the wording of the constitution indicate that a greater provision of public goods is aspired to, but the government of Somaliland does not yet have the resources or the institutional capacity to expand upon those provisions begun by Egal. What has been successful, however, is establishing peace and security within the territory, which is not a small accomplishment when compared with the chaotic and violent situation that exists in most of southern Somalia. The nascent state in Somaliland has the foundations for further political and social development and provision, but has yet to fully realise them.
As a high ranking civil servant succinctly notes, ―[w]hen we were writing that constitution we were trying to kill one bird with thousands of stones in order to assert
our separation‖ from the south.110 Many of the obstacles present in Somaliland today stem from the constitution and its ambiguities resulting from the compromise and amalgamation of two separate drafts as well as the broad mandate necessary for the establishment of the government. Regardless of the real or potential problems, though, what has taken place in Somaliland since 1991 is remarkable. Out of a violent conflict resulting in the failure of one state, a new state is emerging; one that is overcoming obstacles that have derailed its neighbours for many years. The establishment of a secure and stable environment in which a new style of governing is being introduced is a testament to the devotion of the Somaliland people to this project of state formation. That this is domestically driven and is being done almost entirely in the absence of international involvement not only proves the exciting occurrences within the territory, but contrasts sharply to the ‗cookie cutter‘ approach to state-building that was attempted and that failed in Somalia. The success in introducing and establishing components of the acceptable state, though, was dependent on forming a state the Somaliland way. That is, the success in introducing these structural components and
practices of the state were dependent upon grounding the state in the Somaliland clans, thus breaking from the dominant state-building blueprint.
A Remarkable Process and a Uniquely Somaliland State From the beginning, the process of state formation in Somaliland has been propelled by a group of self-socialised elites within the territory who push for compliance with the norms of statehood that are seen as necessary for recognition, but who also strive to ensure that the state being created is one that reflects the needs of Somaliland. The result of this is the hybrid reconciliation between the ‗old‘ Somali governance and the ‗new‘ liberal democratic practices in the Somaliland government. Initially composed of SNM political leadership, this group continues to evolve as the state formation process continues, and is increasingly becoming composed of diaspora returnees with experience of European and American government systems; the ‗old guard‘ of the SNM is being replaced by the ‗new.‘ Both the old and the new, however, continue to strive to ―prove‖ to both the international community and the Somaliland people that Somaliland can be a successful and acceptable state. Although it, like its neighbours, is impacted upon by the occurrences in Somalia, Somaliland exists almost entirely politically, economically and socially separate from the south. A democratic government has been established and codified in a constitution, and free and fair presidential and parliamentary elections have led to a peaceful transfer of power. Clan militias have been largely contained, and security has been maintained throughout most of the territory since 1996. As for Rotberg‘s list of political goods provided by an acceptable state, Somaliland meets most of the requirements, particularly in areas not dependent upon institutional strength or government spending. The press is relatively free, and the government maintains a laissez faire attitude towards business ventures and the economy. Religious freedoms are protected, as long as religions other than Islam are not proselytised. The rights of women are also protected, and the state and civil society are taking steps towards stopping abuses commonly found in East Africa, particularly towards women. A formative legal and judicial system is also in place. Somaliland has a flag, a national anthem, its own visa and passport system, and it prints and uses its own currency. The government has unofficial diplomatic representation in many European states and the United States, and has regular contact and meetings with other governments.112 It has a state-to-state relationship with Ethiopia and Djibouti, with the Somaliland passport a widely accepted travel document in both. Civil society is growing and the government is even taking action against environmental pollutants.
As Bryden argues, Somaliland ―fulfils the principle criteria‖ for statehood.
aspiring state reflects the normative values of acceptable statehood, an attribute that makes it complicit with the pressures of the international community even in the absence of direct international action.

The crux of meeting normative demands and creating the hybrid state in Somaliland was the introduction of a multiparty democratic system. The original objective of the SNM was the establishment of a democratic government as a means of returning the government to the people, and the introduction of democracy in Somaliland goes back
to the democratic practices of the SNM in Ethiopia.114 Although the stated aim of the SNM was to give the government back to the people, it is unclear if a Western-style democracy was the intended aim, or even if how to introduce this new form of government to the population had been considered. As the intention of the SNM was not the creation of an independent state in Somaliland, though, it can be assumed that democratic government was not proffered to appease the international community but was instead was what the SNM leadership thought was best for Somalia.
Regardless of whom one speaks to in the government of Somaliland, whether it is a top ranking cabinet official or an elected member of parliament, the conversation consistently begins with the story about the SNM struggle and then the formation of Somaliland. The story almost always includes mention of the success of the most
recent democratic elections and concludes with a strong statement about how Somaliland deserves to be recognised. It would be rare for anyone involved in the creation of Somaliland or those in the current government to publicly state that Somaliland‘s push for democracy is propelled, at least in part, by the quest for recognition. Whilst direct statements are not likely, however, there is much that indicates that democracy and the quest for recognition have become linked. Much can be taken from statements, particularly early speeches by President Egal that indicate that democracy had obtained a second purpose other than returning the government to the people. In a speech prior to the constitutional referendum in which Egal had linked democratic government with recognition, the president stated, ―[w]e could only be accepted as a member of the world community if we move to a new stage of nationhood … The international community does not recognize congregations of
clans, each remaining independently separate. In linking the nature of Somaliland‘s political system with its prospects for recognition, Egal indicated that Somaliland needed to move beyond the clan system and create a system of government that was acceptable to the international community. Current government actions continue to link governance with recognition. Reflecting this, the current vice president indicates that today the primary goal of the government is for Somaliland to be recognised, with ―all other problems [being] secondary.‖116 Minister of Foreign Affairs Abdullahi Duale goes further in recognising that although necessary, democracy was unknown to the majority of the population of Somaliland and
―[t]eaching and introducing the democratic process itself was a huge challenge … We put the package together and sold it to the people. It‘s a miracle it happened.‖117 There is a sense from some that Somaliland is merely imitating democracy, with the institutions and practices being created because of the importance placed on the appearance of a democratic government.118 Regardless of the initial motivations, however, with recognition being the primary objective and with a connection being made between style of government and recognised statehood, the push for continued democratisation cannot be separated from the quest to be a legally recognised state.
Somaliland is continuing to ―learn‖ democracy and the newness of this system of government cannot be overlooked. Although the imperative was always to have a democratic state, those who were involved in creating the state recognised that the introduction of democratic practices would not be easy as they could not ―jump from point A to E without going through B, C, and D.‖119 This challenge was met in a novel way through the creation of the hybrid government as the old was used to introduce and facilitate the new.120 The dependence on the old in order to foster cooperation in the hybrid system characterises the state formation process in Somaliland and makes it an exceptional case of modern state formation. Although this system also creates particular obstacles, the hybrid Somaliland democracy is often credited with maintaining the foundational peace and stability necessary for the creation of the state. As Bobe Yusuf Duale recognises, the people of Somaliland ―live in two worlds, the
west and the clan,‖ and the government reflects this duplicity of life.121 duality that will be the focus of the following chapters.

Conclusions
Throughout the brief history of the unified Somalia, the northern region experiences were distinct from those in the south. When in 1991 long-term instability resulted in the collapse of the state, the people of the north seized upon the opportunity to remove themselves from the Somalia union. It was at this crossroads that the state of Somaliland was born.
The people involved in creating the state in Somaliland acknowledge that the democratic system that is in place in Somaliland today is not perfect, but that what has
been created is ―the best there is. Mohammed Said Gees articulates that the attitude at the time of the creation of the government was ―we don‘t want to be old, reflecting not only a desire to rid Somaliland of the corrupt practices that plagued the Somalia governments, but also a desire for something new.123 For Somaliland, this meant a step away from the clan and a move towards a modern democratic state. As strong as the push for something new was, however, the value of the old Somali practices and customs were not discounted. Thus, the clan governance system and the social control that the clan elders held became integral to creating the foundations upon which a democratic government could be introduced. Although the new was believed to be both necessary to return the government to the people as well as in the active quest for recognition of sovereign statehood, its existence within the government would not be possible if it did not exist in tandem with the old.
It is very difficult to discuss Somaliland in any capacity without some mention of recognition. As Bryden appropriately notes, the pursuit of international recognition
has become a ―sort of national obsession‖ in Somaliland. Whilst for many Somalilanders the benefit of legal statehood would be improved economic opportunities, the recognition campaign is driven by the political. The existence of a democratic government within the territory, whilst created as part of the bigger scheme to give the government back to the people, is now utilised as the central focus of the campaign and the primary evidence of deserving legal statehood. In other words, the argument being made is one that other de facto states employ, that the territory has earned sovereignty through exhibiting preferable and acceptable empirical statehood. Whereas a strong legal justification for recognition can be made based on brief period of sovereign independence in 1960, the campaign for statehood has grown to encompass this acceptableness, and as such the style and appearance of the state and the government have become a vehicle through which recognition is sought. With sovereign statehood being a pre-requisite for the acquisition of resources and entry into international frameworks, organisations and legal codes, the state formation process and the democratising government in Somaliland have become part of a complex and very politically rooted strategy for recognition and within that, of extraversion. Whereas the democratic component of the state may not have been included for the intention of attracting recognition, its existence has since become the centrepiece the campaign. As such, the growth, strengthening and modern practices of
the Somaliland state must be viewed not only as part of fulfilling the initial desires of the founders of Somaliland, but also as fulfilling international normative demands for acceptable statehood.
Interestingly, though, Somaliland exhibits one key deviation from the preferable or the acceptable: the inclusion of traditional authority in the central government. To be clear, the existence of traditional clan governance in the government has not been an exclusive factor in the continued non-recognition of Somaliland; complex regional considerations, peace initiatives for Somalia and policies of the African Union as well as non-African actors have thus far prevented recognition of Somaliland. However, the notable inclusion of the clan in the government of a Somali state is perceived of as a significant risk factor for instability and violence. With the continued volatility in the south of Somalia, and with the clan being targeted as a key component of this instability, it is curious that in Somaliland the clan has such a place of prominence within the modern democratising government. The perception of unpredictability and uncertainty that accompanies the inclusion of the traditional signifies that it should not be preferred in such an important position, yet for Somaliland it is a vital component of the state and the process taken to create that state.
The next two chapters will examine this inclusion of the traditional in the democratising government in Somaliland. Why was the clan governance structure included in the government? What role has it played and does it continue to play? More importantly, could the current state of Somaliland exist without the inclusion of the clan? The mix of old and new in Somaliland has not been unproblematic, and the need to reconsider the negotiation between the two has recently been raised within the territory. Regardless, and in many ways because of this, the case of Somaliland is an interesting case of modern state formation and the trials that accompany this in respect to international norms of acceptable statehood.

Chapter 6: The Institutionalisation of the Traditional
The Somali clan system serves as a mechanism of solidarity and fragmentation as well as competition and coalition building. It is this enigma of the functions of the clan system – its capacity to serve as a mechanism of solidarity and warfare, its vulnerability to fragmentation and the weakness of its mechanism of leadership accountability – which needs to be understood. Somaliland adapted these features and functions of clan organisation it its strategies of organising resistance to the regime, resolving conflicts within the movement during the struggle, as well as in postwar reconciliation and in building political consensus.
Throughout the campaign of the SNM the Somaliland clans were integral to the success of the liberation struggle as well as post-conflict reconciliation and state formation. Although the clans were vital to the emergence of an independent Somaliland, out of the SNM campaign and rule emerged not an absolute dependence on the clan, but rather the integration of the clan system into the government. The partnership of the clan system and democracy, both in state institutions and government practices, characterises the Somaliland government. Although not entirely unproblematic, the grounding of unfamiliar democratic practices in the familiar clan system has facilitated the creation of a stable and strengthening government in Somaliland, and has set the de facto state far apart from the failed state of Somalia.
Whilst the aim of the SNM had been creating a democratic government in Somalia, after the declaration of independence this goal became one for Somaliland. As Abdullahi Duale articulates, however, ―[y]ou just cannot impose democracy. It has to come from within.‖ He goes on to argue that Somaliland had to create a government from the bottom up, and they had to ―do it [their] own way.‖2 For Somaliland, this meant including traditional structures of governance in what would become a democratic government. The remainder of this chapter will examine this inclusion,
starting with the role of the clan during the liberation struggle and the post- independence interim government. This will be followed by an explanation of the clan‘s current role in the government and an analysis of the importance of the clan inclusion in the emerging state.

The Clan and the Council of Elders: A Pillar of the SNM
For Somali society, the foundation of social, political and economic life is the clan. As one Member of Parliament notes, ―[t]he clan is everything. It is the basis of all. Social, economic, political, all.‖3 Historically, ―[c]ollective action through kinship‖ provided physical, political, social and economic security.4 It is well documented that under the Barre regime the Somali clans were repressed as a means of maintaining tight control over society, and clan association was deemed an act against the state. As power increasingly centralised in the country, however, Somalis turned to the clan for provision and protection, particularly in the distant north where the clan system had been less disrupted than in the south by events such as colonisation and government practices. In Somaliland, this clan allegiance and dependence, together with the influence of elders over their clans, contributed to the success of the liberation movement throughout the long campaign against Barre.
The liberation struggle of Somaliland originated with the creation of the Somali National Movement in London in April 1981. Formed from a succession of various political organisations created by Isaaq businessmen, students, former civil servants and former politicians living in the United Kingdom, the SNM emerged following the merger of the UK organisations with similar groups from Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. The London base was chosen not only because of the large number of Isaaq living in the UK, but also because the leadership of the nascent movement determined that the social, political and legal environment in the UK would be more conducive to the movement‘s existence and actions than would those in countries
such as Saudi Arabia or the UAE. The Isaaq clan was central to the activities of the liberation movement from the beginning, and at the start membership and leadership of the SNM was almost exclusively limited to the Isaaq clan.
The initial intent of the political organisations preceding the SNM was not to become an armed liberation front. Rather, these groups formed in response to new policies enacted by Barre which were viewed as direct attacks on Isaaq living abroad. Following a meeting of the newly formed SNM Congress in October 1981, however, the official position changed to one of liberation, with the expressed aim of ridding Somalia of Barre. The SNM advocated liberal economic policies and a neutral foreign policy stance, meaning rejecting alignment with either of the Cold War superpowers. The SNM also aimed to re-establish a democratic system in Somalia whilst maintaining existing Somali clan structures. The SNM‘s campaign for liberation came not only from the desire for the end of the Barre regime, but was also propelled by a vision of a new government for Somalia; one that would return the government to the people whilst respecting and depending on the centrality and pervasiveness of the clan system.

The first SNM constitution, created in 1981, mandated that clan units should be respected in any new government and that cooperation between the clans should be based on customary law (xeer) rather than through government mandates or force.6 The SNM constitution also gave clan elders an important role as grassroots decision makers; a role which would later be elevated to a much larger scale. With this recognition of the centrality and importance of the clan, the SNM proposed combining ―the advantages of Somali democracy and egalitarianism with the benefits of modern national government;‖7 by elevating the concept of xeer to the national level and utilising customary practices in conjunction with modern democratic principles and practices the SNM anticipated effective, fair and peaceful governance in Somalia. This amalgamation of modern democracy and traditional Somali clan governance was also seen as the ideal way to address the issue of destructive ‗clannism,‘ a re-occurring problem in post-colonial Somali politics and one that was a significant factor in the establishment of Barre‘s draconian anti-clan policies. By incorporating the clan rather than removing it or outlawing it, the SNM envisioned a disaggregated federal system with regional clan-based administrations responsible for the delivery of most public and political goods. As Drysdale notes, by placing primacy in the clan as a useful, necessary and stabilising element in a new government rather than as a divisive political factor, the SNM was successful in reversing attitudes against clannism that had been prevalent under Barre.8 The proposal of decentralised rule not only reflected the reality of clan dominance in geographic regions within Somalia, but also expressed the desires of the Isaaq nationalist movement as devolution of power to the regional governments would place the majority of Somaliland under Isaaq rule and the majority of Isaaq under Somaliland rule.9 By using the clan structures as a part of a federal democratic government, the leadership of the SNM envisioned the creation of a stable political system in Somalia. The SNM also fully utilised the clan system and clan loyalties within the structure of the movement itself. Although the Isaaq clan is sub-divided into powerful sub-clan groupings, the concept of clan balance determined leadership within the movement, with the senior positions in the SNM rotated amongst the various sub-clans to ensure Isaaq solidarity and cooperation. In the broader movement, individuals were of lesser importance than the group; a practice that was further demonstrated with the exclusion of certain SNM supporters from the minority Gadabuursi and Darood clans as they were unable to ―carry their clans with them‖ in support of the movement. Clan distribution was also used to determine the collection of funds for the movement; operating funds for the SNM were collected in a similar manner to that of diya payments.10 From the beginning the SNM depended on the support of the clan groups for its continued operation and later, for its success. Whilst some viewed the Isaaq exclusivity of the SNM as tribalism or extreme Isaaq nationalism, an explanation based upon the practicalities of clan exclusivity is more likely than any extremist agenda. Barre‘s oppression against the Isaaq clan was seen
by many as justification for action against the regime, and increased totalitarian measures experienced in the northwest fuelled Isaaq support for the SNM prior to the start of the war. As Somali clans act collectively when threatened, even with sub-clan divisions and competition within the Isaaq clan itself, a unified position was possible because of Barre‘s policy against the Isaaq as a whole. Because of this, gathering needed logistical support from the Isaaq was less complex than it would have been if other clans and their specific considerations or grievances had been included. Also, an element of trust played into the Isaaq exclusivity. When members of the Hawiye clan, which comprised the majority of the United Somali Congress (USC) in Somalia, approached the SNM to take part in the SNM Congress in London, they were refused participation as it was suspected that the Hawiye were complicit with the Barre regime. Because of this, inclusion of the Hawiye would introduce the risk of internal SNM policies and actions being passed on to the dictator. Although one cannot entirely discount elements of Isaaq nationalism, the functioning of the Somali clan system creates a situation in which depending on a single clan is more practical than being all inclusive.
In late 1981, a group of intellectuals in Hargeisa began an action group determined to improve social services in the northwest. Seen as an attack on Barre by identifying failures in his rule, thirty-eight members of the group were arrested and put on trial in
When rumour that the group was being sentenced to death spread through Hargeisa, riots erupted in the city in protest. Although the rumour was false, the open retaliation in Hargeisa empowered senior Isaaq military officials in the Somalia army to defect to the SNM, thereby giving the political movement significant military leadership. The rebellion in Hargeisa had ―marked the opening on their home ground‖ of the war between the now-militarised Isaaq and Barre.12 As Barre attempted to tighten control in the north, support for the SNM within Somaliland began to grow. Shortly thereafter, the SNM leadership moved its base of operations from London to Ethiopia, drawing its support mainly from the Isaaq in the Somali inhabited regions of the country. Although the political
component of the movement was never discarded, with its move to Ethiopia the SNM went from being a political organisation to a liberation movement.
During its time in London, the involvement of clan leadership in the SNM had been important for negotiating support within the UK and other areas with large Isaaq populations. With the move to Ethiopia, however, the clan elders were tasked with a more active role and thus became entrenched in the operations of the movement. Because of its difficult history with the Somali population in the Ogaden, the Ethiopian government viewed all Somalis as being problematic and treated them as such. The Ogaden War also made the Ethiopian government wary of the intention of liberation movements, particularly those based within the Somali population. As a result, the Ethiopian government forcefully acted against the SNM in an attempt to quash any potential conflicts within Ethiopia itself. For the SNM leadership, ―that was a headache … We found out Barre had a fifth column in Ethiopia [fighting us].‖13 As a way of convincing the Ethiopian government of the validity of the SNM presence in the country, and that the SNM was not targeting the Ethiopian government but rather the Barre regime, the first SNM Guurti,14 or council of elders, was convened by the movement‘s political leadership.
The guurti has long been integral to the Somali clan governance system. As the most respected council in the Somali-inhabited territories, the traditionally ad hoc body is responsible for resolving differences within or between the clans or to unite the clans in times of crisis or war and is therefore a vital component of clan governance. The SNM first utilised this traditional body in 1982 to reconcile between the SNM and the Ethiopian government, thereby elevating the guurti to a quasi-diplomatic position between a liberation movement and a foreign state government. As Hassan Issa, the man in charge of convening this first SNM Guurti recalls, the predominantly Isaaq elders were ―rounded up‖ from the clans in Ethiopia and ―taken in the back of a pick- up truck‖ to Addis Ababa where they met with Ethiopian authorities to ―educate‖
them about the SNM.15 When asked why the elders were tasked with this rather than a political or military figure, Issa simply replied, ―[i]t‘s Africa.‖16 The SNM leadership felt that the elders, including two sultans, would garner more respect from the Ethiopian authorities than an official from the liberation movement as traditional figures would be more trusted than a political or military representative. The utilisation of the elders in this regard was for a very specific purpose: to invoke respect from the Ethiopian authorities in order to garner Ethiopian support for the SNM. According to Issa, the Guurti ―did a fantastic job‖ and the clan body therefore became a tool for the SNM.17 As such, the Guurti assumed a traditional role and became a mediation and reconciliation body for the movement. With the first SNM Guurti, however, how the clan was used changed. Whereas clan allegiance and solidarity had previously been invoked to garner support from within the clan itself, the new form of guurti took on the added role of convincing and campaigning actors outside the Somali population on behalf of the SNM. Through this, the clan became a tool of the movement and the utilisation of the guurti by the SNM made the traditional institution a part of the movement‘s apparatus.
This quasi-political incarnation of the Guurti thus first emerged as a created institution, acting first as a mediator between the SNM and the Ethiopian government and later between the SNM and the Somali population. Similar to traditional guurti, under the SNM clan elders were brought together to serve a specific purpose: to further the cause of the liberation movement. Although initially convened for this and loosely disbanded afterwards, the eventual permanency of the SNM Guurti as an institution moved it away from its traditional ad hoc and decentralised nature. Instead of the elders convening and exercising power and control outside the purview of the state or central political body in response to a specific situation, as traditional guurti had done, the created Guurti became a body that was dispatched on behalf of the SNM. The ad hoc council was thus transformed into a mobile political body that became a valuable component of the SNM leadership.
The initial Ethiopian support obtained by the clan elders allowed the SNM to function within Ethiopian borders and to move to the Somalia border. Following the 1987 agreement between Siad Barre and Ethiopian leader Mengitsu Haile Mariam, however, Ethiopian support was withdrawn in exchange for Barre withdrawing support from the Ogaden liberation movements based in Somalia.18 Without physical and logistical assistance and sanction from the Ethiopian government, and with the Ethiopian government pushing the movement out of the country, the SNM was forced to look elsewhere for the resources needed to maintain its campaign. This changed situation brought about the re-emergence of the SNM Guurti. The second incarnation of the Guurti worked in the same manner as the previous body, but rather than using the council of elders to win over the Ethiopian government, the elders were co-opted to garner the support of Ethiopian Somalis as well as the large Somaliland refugee population that had crossed the border following attacks by the Somalia military. Even though the targets of Barre‘s attacks in the north were primarily the Isaaq, all the northern clans were affected by the violence. Because many of the attacks were in retaliation for SNM actions and raids into Somaliland, though, support for the SNM within both in Somaliland and Ethiopia faced uncertainty as suffering increased. In targeting the Isaaq, Barre was not only fighting against those he viewed as rebellious, but also outwardly identifying the Isaaq and the SNM as the root cause of the suffering of the non-Isaaq population. Barre‘s divide-and-rule tactic of placing the blame on the Isaaq threatened the survival of the SNM, as in continuing their actions the liberation movement was creating a situation in which it could have been defeated by the people it was trying to liberate. Because of this, the SNM was forced to move away from its Isaaq exclusivity in order to incorporate the other clans into the movement‘s operations and garner the support of the Somaliland population as a whole. Once again, the SNM utilised the clan elders, dispatching the Guurti to reconcile with the non-Isaaq clans and to bring them into the support base of the SNM. The Guurti was therefore tasked with linking the active SNM struggle to the new cross-clan refugee population as well as those remaining in the cities, a task which they did ―fantastically.‖19 The SNM Guurti continued this role when the SNM moved into Somaliland in 1988, and by 1990 the SNM and the Guurti had expanded
By April 1990 the Guurti was formally institutionalised into the SNM governing structure as a separate branch of the leadership, making the traditional structure a permanent institution and giving it a leading role in the liberation movement.
As the SNM struggle ensued, the Guurti continued to negotiate with the clans and widen its support base within northern Somalia. The Guurti is widely credited with obtaining logistical, financial and military support necessary for the SNM to move into Somalia, allowing it to directly confront Barre‘s troops. According to Dr. Aden Abokor:
[t]he only institution supporting the SNM was the institution of the clan. Everything was a contribution from the clan. Guns came from the clan. People came from the clan. Food came from the clan. Everything came from the clan.
However, despite the new cross-clan base, ―[a]s the scope of military operations widened and intensified the clan basis of units became, if anything, more sharply delineated.‖23 During the period of all-out war against Barre (1988-1990), the SNM had five ‗regular‘ regiments comprised of the major Isaaq sub-clans, and other clans were encouraged to create their own fighting factions instead of joining one of the Isaaq regiments.24 As a result, SNM military units were formed along strict clan and sub-clan lines with each unit fighting primarily within their own territory. To avoid clashes and misunderstandings between sub-clans, the SNM Guurti strove to ensure balance and cooperation between the clan units fighting for the movement.
During the liberation struggle ―the $6 million question was how to involve the masses.‖26 The solution reached by the SNM was the utilisation of clan loyalties and
governance. The elders were a key element in this, acting as a driving force by ―spreading the word of revolt and win[ning] support‖ of the Somaliland population both within Somalia and in Ethiopia.27 Because of the relationship between the Guurti and society, and therefore the SNM and the people, the elders continually acted as a point of reassurance for the people during the conflict as well as following the overthrow of Barre. Following the devastation of the civil war and the collapse of the government in Mogadishu, the people of Somaliland turned to the familiar and trusted clans and the ostensibly apolitical elders for provision and security. The Guurti therefore ―came into their own, empowered by civil war and devastation.‖28 Taking on the vital role of reconciliation in a war-torn society, the body once again became an agent of reassurance, mediation and leadership in post-war Somaliland.

The Somaliland National Conferences: Traditional Peacemaking and Modern State-Making
Whereas during its formation in London the SNM had been a forum almost exclusively for the Isaaq community, during the war it ―was able to not feed war against Barrism with Isaaqism‖ and eventually became a movement for all of the
Lewis notes that the SNM was successful in gaining the support of the population because it was a ―grassroots movement which sprang from the tribal structures of Somali society and not a movement based on the theoretical discourse of
a few intellectuals or the blind determination of a few hotheads. The democratic nature of the SNM, together with its multifaceted decentralised leadership, are counted among the more ―valued legacies‖ inherited from the movement by post-war Somaliland.31 A component of this leadership, the institutionalisation of traditional
leadership, is also an invaluable legacy that contributed greatly to the establishment of stability in the territory following the end of Barre‘s rule.
Although the SNM had incorporated all of the Somaliland clans in some capacity by the end of the war, it was still seen by many as ―an armed expression of the Isaaq people‖32 as the movement continued to be dominated by the majority clan. As such, tensions between the Isaaq and those clans that had largely supported of Barre – the Gadabuursi and Ise (Dir sub-clans), and the Dhulbahante and the Warsangeli (Darood sub-clans)33 – threatened a continuation of the civil war in the north. Because of this potential, following the end of the conflict with Barre the SNM and the Guurti took steps towards fostering peace and stability in the north as regional reconciliation was deemed necessary for the successful implementation of a federal government. In areas where pro-Barre and anti-SNM elements were strong, the first point of concern was ensuring that retributive violence did not erupt between the various clan groupings. Even though the SNM and the Guurti did not gain the full support of all the clans – opposition to the boundaries of Somaliland and the existence of the government continues today, primarily in the eastern provinces of Sanaag and Sool – the success of reducing violence in the territory is accredited to the immediate post-conflict actions of the SNM and the Guurti.
Despite the continued opposition, ―given the role played by the marginal clans in the anti-SNM campaign, the SNM‘s behaviour in the very first few days of the takeover had a great importance for the possibility of northern cohesion.‖34 Many involved in this process recall the SNM‘s desire for forgiveness rather than retribution against those who had opposed them and, in some instances, their victory. As Hassan Issa acknowledges, the SNM and its supporters ―wanted something greater than
The SNM leadership discerned that continued fighting or forceful domination would only hinder achieving the end goal of democratic governance in Somalia; before the needs for democracy could be addressed the fractures within society needed to first be closed. According to Ali Farah, only the Guurti could be
successful at achieving this. As he articulates, the clans ―needed reconciliation between them rather than the democratic process. They needed the Guurti’s help for
this … [they] changed confrontation into negotiation.
leading priority, and through a succession of national clan conferences the Guurti was once again utilised to bring the clans together to support the larger SNM project.
Somali society is characterised by confrontation, and military strength is the final sanction in any relationship in Somali society. Therefore as the victors of war it was the responsibility and the right of the SNM to take the lead in the post-war north. As Samatar articulates, however, ―I can recall no other example of a liberation movement which won power through the barrel of the gun and which was simultaneously so uninterested in ruling with its gun.‖37 Because of its position of power as the victor the SNM was ―able to sue for peace from a position of strength‖ rather than demanding compliance through force.38 As Dr. Aden Abokor recalls, minorities did not have much choice other than comply with the actions of the militarily superior SNM, as
―they had been given peace on a silver platter.
reconciliation in post-war Somaliland came from the SNM, the leadership again relied heavily on clan elders to negotiate a settlement between the clans as well as between
society and the liberation movement.40
meetings (shir) involving the clans and guurti became an important component of negotiating a peaceful settlement and creating stability throughout the territory.41 These ‗national‘ shir also became an invaluable component of the formation of the Somaliland state.

The Berbera Conference
It is important to note that national shir were rare occurrences in northern Somalia, with the last one prior to 1991 being held in 1954 in response to the British ceding a portion of Somaliland grazing area to Ethiopia.42 With the need for inter and intra-clan reconciliation, however, a national meeting was the optimal prospect. The first of these was the Brotherhood Conference of the Northern Clans held in Berbera in February 1991. At what Guurti member Haji Abdi Hussein refers to as ―the Declaration of Peace Conference,‖ the SNM leadership, various Isaaq clan elders and representatives of the minority clans came together to begin the reconciliation process.43 In addition to the SNM Guurti, local guurti and individual clan elders were also part of the peace process, and at Berbera they were charged with the important task of negotiating and maintaining peace locally. Although convened by the SNM leadership, the Berbera conference was composed of and managed by clan elders, and it was this conference that ―demonstrated the skilfulness of the traditional elders in peacemaking and conflict management, a sign that confirms the richness of the peace making culture of Somaliland communities.
The objective of the Berbera Conference was to restore trust and confidence between the Isaaq and the non-Isaaq clans, and the start of this reconciliation process was the most obvious outcome of the shir. This conference achieved what one observer has described as ―the SNM‘s conciliatory policy of peaceful co-existence between all the clans,‖45 and at Berbera a ―surprising degree of peace [was] secured, largely through the efforts of the traditional clan elders.‖46 Holding a national conference to address post-war issues and possibilities set a precedent which would have a substantial impact on post-war Somaliland. Although this first conference differed from those which followed in that the Berbera shir was convened and led by the SNM not the clans, it nevertheless laid the groundwork for larger conferences that would take place
between April 1991 and February 1997. Instead of exhibiting authority through force, the SNM leadership consented to a peaceful clan-led process through these conferences, thereby invocating clan elders as those responsible for peace and reconciliation in post-war Somaliland.

The Burco Conference
The first conference following Berbera was The Grand Conference of Northern Clans held in Burco in April and May 1991. Convened and run by clan elders, this conference took place parallel to the regularly held meeting of the SNM central committee. It was at this conference that the clan elders exhibited the powerful
position they had within the territory. autonomous force and firmly established its role as an institution in the leadership of the territory. As Höhne notes, the Burco conference was the starting point for the new political powers that the Guurti has gained since 1991.49
The leaders and decision makers at Burco were clan elders, but all sectors of Somaliland society took part. The purpose of the conference was to finalise and formalise the peace agreements that had been reached at the Berbera Conference and to continue discussion of Somaliland‘s place in the unified state of Somalia. However, the conference agenda was altered in May when Somaliland‘s independence was declared and creating a state became a primary concern. At Burco the elders thus tasked the SNM leadership with heading a new transitional government in Somaliland for a period of two years to allow for reconciliation to take place before the process of creating a permanent government would begin. As noted in Chapter 5, the Guurti became an integral component of this new government, with the elders who were delegates at the Burco Conference filling the membership of the interim upper house of parliament. As not only a legislative body but also an advisory council, the Guurti became an institution within the government that was also tasked with appointing the interim administration. This duality made the body concurrently both internal and external to the new government.
In the early years of the emerging state the most important role for the Guurti was that of peacemaking and peacekeeping, and a significant accomplishment of the Guurti was grassroots reconciliation. Haji Abdi Hussein notes that the Guurti knew that a government could not be initiated with hostility remaining in the community, particularly if that government was to exercise power-sharing between the clans. Therefore, in the capacity of reconciliation the Guurti was a ―stepping stool for independence.‖50 During the two-year rule of the SNM the Guurti continued to expand its place within the new state and to entrench its position as a governing institution, undertaking or participating in major peace and security building initiatives such as demobilising militias and assisting local guurti in quelling outbreaks of violence. Twenty local peace and reconciliation conferences took place between the Burco Conference and the next national shir in 1993, including the Sheikh Conference in October 1992 at which the government gained control of the port of Berbera.51 Whilst these were not national conferences, the new Somaliland Guurti was involved in most, sending delegates to the local negotiations. As an active presence in both local and national governance structures and initiatives, the Guurti’s influence extended far beyond that of the troubled Tuur administration. During the Tuur administration ―the Guurti was more interactive and productive than the government‖ and the body grew in importance and power as it was through the clan
institution that continuity of the government was maintained.
institutional representation of the traditional clan structure, the body was able to include the communities and clans not only in the government but also in creating the foundations for the state apparatus.

The Borama Conference
In 1993 Somaliland held its next national conference in Borama, the ‗capital‘ of the Gadabuursi clan; the decision to hold the conference amongst the Gadabuursi was a way to show that the new state being created was not an Isaaq state.53 The clan elders took further steps in removing the association with Isaaq dominance when they transferred rule in the territory from the Isaaq-associated SNM to a civilian administration. The peaceful transfer to civilian rule marked the start of the process of creating a democratic state in Somaliland. One hundred fifty voting members from all the Somaliland clans took part in the five-month Borama Conference which was completely controlled by the clan council in what Prunier identifies as a showcase of
As much a healing process as a political
meeting, the Borama Conference became an arena in which the balance between the clans was of prime importance. As Prunier notes, ―electing the new president became almost a side issue … the political and cultural display of social dynamics became essential.‖55 As the first national meeting since the declaration of independence, grievances about the direction of Somaliland were aired and dynamic negotiations continued.
At Borama the Guurti again proved its internal-external capacity and importance by not only continuing as a legislative component of the new government, but also in creating the institutions of the state and determining their membership. Just as it had been for the interim government, the civilian government‘s authority originated from the clan elders. As Abdikadir Mohammed Hassan ‗Indho‘ states ―[a]fter we settled things, we called the government to come to us.‖56 At the Borama Conference the Guurti assumed the powers of the SNM administration after the liberation movement relinquished control of the government, and therefore assumed the power of governing the territory. For a brief period in April and May 1993, the Guurti was the
Although rule by the Guurti was only for the duration of transition
from military to civilian rule, it was during this time that the trust and respect of the elders became palpable; the elders holding onto power and not continuing the transition to a civilian rule was not a consideration. Following the Burco Conference, the Guurti and other clan elders emerged with a reputation of being selfless, wise, courageous and peaceful because of the manner in which they had managed the conference and the successful reconciliation efforts. As Dr. Abdirahman Yusuf Artan
recalls, the elders ―really got their name and reputation there.‖58
Borama carried this reputation with them, and their voluntary participation in the conference and the administrative transition exhibited their commitment to a peaceful and stable future for the territory. With the Guurti viewed as the neutral body that could be entrusted with handing the government back to the people, it was the elders at the Borama Conference that chose, appointed and empowered the new civilian administration.59 Because of its role, the Guurti is widely considered to be the ―father‖ or ―dad‖ of Somaliland and its success.60 Mohammed Said Gees acknowledges the
institution‘s foundational importance in identifying the Guurti as ―the seed‖ of the Somaliland government. Gees takes this further, though, in recognising not only the Guurti’s capacity to anoint governing power to the civilian administration, but also the position of the elders as the metaphorical rock of the Somaliland state: ―because of them, there is rule of law, order, a social system, etc. [They were] absolutely
In addition to the body‘s role in appointing the
government, the Guurti also acted in an advisory, almost parental capacity to the new government to ensure that the state formation process stayed on track. The Guurti was the backbone supporting the new state.
The role of a central and permanent Guurti developed significantly during and after the Borama Conference. Whereas under the National and Peace Charters the institutionalised Guurti had been sanctioned as the peacemakers and the keepers of traditional, religious and cultural values, it was at Borama that the current role of the Guurti was constitutionally codified as a body with both legislative and traditional or
cultural responsibilities within the hybrid government.62 This new role inarguably again changed the nature of the clan body by placing it firmly within the political structure of the state. Although it maintained its stabilising influence, following Borama the Guurti went from being a primarily reconciliatory body to becoming part of the political machinery of Somaliland.

The Hargeisa Conference
One final national conference was held in Hargeisa in 1996-1997. Partly in response to a renewal of violence in Somaliland, and partly as a means of ending deadlock between Egal and the Parliament over the drafting of a permanent constitution, the Hargeisa conference was a means of bringing together a fragmented population as well as a divided government. Whilst previous conferences were clan-based conferences with the onus being on the Guurti for reconciliation and beginning the creation of a state, the Hargeisa Conference was a political conference that was labelled a ―national conference‖ rather than a ―clan conference.‖ Although the Hargeisa Conference was announced by the House of Elders, it was convened and financed by Egal‘s government rather than the people and the diaspora as past
conferences had been. Petitions to establish a neutral guurti and preparatory committee were rejected by the government and the nearly 300 participants were hand-picked by the president.63 With Egal controlling so much of the process, many maintain that the Hargeisa Conference was more an exercise of Egal‘s control over the peace process and the state, including the Guurti, than a shir in the way that Burco and Borama had been.64 Even though the Guurti was instrumental in reaching a peace agreement that ended the renewed violence, the body‘s internal-external position was changing as the Guurti became more entrenched in Egal‘s government; the dual positioning of the Guurti became an important resource for the president. The strong rule of Egal overshadowed the role of the Guurti, and as Bradbury notes, ―Egal‘s influence over the conference damaged the credibility of a national shir as a mechanism for political change in the future.‖65 These changing power relationships,
leading to and part of the alteration and arguable politicisation of the Guurti, have had a significant impact on the present-day government, posing challenges that will be discussed in the following chapter.
After nearly five months of negotiations, the Hargeisa Conference resulted in significant changes for Somaliland. A peace agreement was signed, bringing an end to the fighting, and Egal was re-selected as president. More noteworthy, however, the conference resulted in the start of a transition from the community or clan based (beel) government system that had thus far characterised the government to a multi- party democratic system.66 An interim constitution reflecting this was established and
the process of creating a permanent constitution was began. It was under this constitution, ratified in 2001, that the current position, powers and responsibilities of the Guurti were established. It is this constitutional placement of the traditional structure within a democratising government that is the focus of the next section.

The Constitutional Guurti
Although the shape and function of the Guurti has been developing since its inception in 1982, the 2001 Constitution officially codifies its role in Somaliland‘s multi-party democratic government. Articles 57 to 79 of the Somaliland Constitution specify both legislative and traditional duties of the house. Constitutionally, members of the House of Elders must be at least forty-five years old and must be male. In contrast to the House of Representatives, there are no formal education requirements other than a ―good knowledge of the religion [Islam]‖ and being ―versed in the traditions.‖68 There is also no stipulation for the member to hold a titled position. In terms of clan composition, following the Hargeisa Conference the membership of the House was amended to be more inclusive of all the clans of Somaliland so as to widen participation and representation. As a result, the membership is currently ―selected according to a consociational rule which divides posts according to a delicate balance respectful of clan weight and the right of minorities,‖69 with the Isaaq sub-clans holding the majority of seats (See Figure 2). The constitutional term of office for the House of Elders is six years, although debate surrounding how the membership will be chosen in the future has led to an extension of the current house‘s term.
The members of the Guurti are currently nominated and selected by their sub-clan and their appointment is confirmed by the president. There are currently no specifications on how the members are chosen by their sub-clans. In terms of accountability, although many members claim to represent all of Somaliland, whether they represent their sub-clan or all the people is debated. Many in the House of Representatives, however, argue that as they are not checked by the population through elections, the Guurti members are accountable only to themselves and the president. Accusations also surface regarding the urban-rural distribution of seats, with claims that the majority of Guurti seats are held by sub-clan members from the major cities, resulting in the nomadic population and those in the rural areas being under-represented in the
upper house.71 Some within the government and civil society in Somaliland also argue that as a traditional body, the Guurti reached its pinnacle at the Borama Conference, after which it was co-opted by Egal as a political tool. Others argue that the traditional nature of the Guurti has not been eroded and is in fact the strongest facet of the Somaliland government.72 Regardless of the criticisms, however, three key roles of the Guurti in the Somaliland government are widely identified: as a legislative organ; as the representation of the clan system and Somali traditions; and as the mediation and advisory body.

The Modern: The Legislative Body
The legislative role of the House of Elders is the most defined of its roles, with duties pertaining to legislation clearly specified in the constitution. The House of Elders has sole purview over matters relating to religion, culture, traditions and security, thereby granting the upper house total power in issues pertaining to those areas. Its primary purpose in this regard is to ensure that proposed bills do not contradict cultural or religious laws and stipulations. Although constitutionally there is limited provision for the body or individual members to originate legislation pertaining to other areas, in practice this is often overlooked.73 In its legislative capacity, the house also acts in an advisory capacity, exercising powers of review and revision over legislation passed by the lower house. When asked, members of the upper house respond that the legislative function of the Guurti is an important component of the Somaliland government, just as the Senate is important in the United States and the House of Lords in Britain.74 Indeed, members of the Guurti often compare the body‘s legislative capacity to those Western legislative institutions.

The Traditional: Representing the Clan System
Due to the structure and functions of the Somali clan system, sustained cooperation between the clans and sometimes sub-clans through institutions is difficult. Because of this, inter-clan governing structures in Somali society were historically ad hoc as they were adapted well to the needs of the nomadic Somali population as well as to the self-sufficiency of the clan system.75 A permanent clan council was unparalleled in Somali society prior to the establishment of the Guurti. During the transition from the Barre regime to a Somaliland government, however, the lasting presence of the traditional body became vital to the success and survival of the nascent state. Because of this, the nature of the inclusion of the Guurti in the governing of Somaliland was
―based on the idea, the understanding, that in Somali culture elders always had a unique role.‖76
Whilst the Guurti’s legislative purpose is clearly laid out in the constitution, another significant role of the body is more symbolic in nature: representing the clan system. Although the protection of tradition and culture is a mandated responsibility for the Guurti, its role in this regard goes beyond the legislative capacity articulated in the constitution. Whilst the House of Elders is a component of the modern state structure, the Guurti is also the inclusion of the clan that the SNM deemed necessary for the success of the state and democracy in Somaliland. Thus, the House of Elders, as both a legislative organ and the institutionalisation of the traditional governing structures, is a permanent representation of the Somaliland clans in the government. As such, the Guurti is the defining characteristic of the hybrid Somaliland government. As one member of the upper house states, including the clan through the council of elders ensures that the government in Somaliland ―matches [Somaliland] culture.‖77 In this capacity, the House of Elders plays the vital role of not only linking the government to the people, but also ensuring that the functions and benefits of the clan system are not lost in the modern government.
As Mohammed Hassan ‗Gani‘ observes, when the state is weak, absent or violent the clan fills the gaps of social, economic, political and security and provision typically managed by the state. In the north, clan structures were largely maintained out of necessity throughout the first Somalia government and Barre‘s regime as provision and security came primarily from the clan rather than the state. Once the state collapsed and ―peace and reconciliation were the most immediate need,‖ traditional and religious leaders once again ―organised themselves to fill the vacuum of no central authority.‖78 Hassan Issa notes that in the nomadic society the only authority was the clan, so it is ―natural‖ for those authorities to re-emerge outside the purview of the state in times of crisis or state weakness.79 Therefore, during the creation of the
In today‘s Somaliland, however, the clan authority is not re-emerging uncontested as the sole authority, nor is it being empowered external to the state apparatus. In creating the government, Somaliland‘s leaders ―ex post facto accepted and partly legalised existing power-positions that had developed during the times of civil war, state-collapse and state reconstruction,‖ drawing upon the powerful position that clan elders held during these times of crisis as a component of the foundations for the state.81 In post-Barre Somaliland the state is empowering the continuation of this powerful position through the institutionalisation of the clan, and as a result the authority of the clan is emerging within the state apparatus. At the same time, however, the clan authority is also affording legitimacy to the government domestically. The traditional authority that rose up during times of crisis and helped establish the foundations for the new state has not faded into the background upon the arrival of the government, but instead exists both within and alongside the central governing structure, creating a centralised and permanent amalgamation of state and clan.
Höhne notes that the Latin roots of the word ‗tradition‘ (tradere) mean ―pass something‖ or ―hand something over,‖ observing that ―[t]his points to the active, process-oriented aspect of tradition, which connects the present with the past in a
dynamic way.‖82 In other words, traditional leaders often ―mediate the link between the past, present and future‖83 with indigenous institutions ―often represent[ing] ways of doing things that have been handed down through successive generations.‖ As such, ―they are usually well-recognised and long accepted, and often carry the force of legitimacy.‖84 As traditional authorities have roles that are ―perceived as having a link to the past,‖ a positive association with the familiar governance structure grants then legitimacy from their followers.85 One member of the Somaliland House of Elders exemplifies these observations and associations in stating ―[o]ur culture gives us the power.‖86 As the Vice President of Somaliland also acknowledges, there must be an element of clan governance in the government in order to gain the confidence of the people.87 The people‘s trust in the government is deeply entwined with the legitimacy held and given by the traditional authority.
In Somaliland, the Guurti is inextricably linked to both the state and the people through the common denominator of the pervasive clan. Because of this, the government institution is in a position where it is both a part of the state and the society, as well as a bridge between the two, linking the state to society and society to
the state and ―hold[ing] together the government, society and culture.‖88
introduction of a democratic government, the traditional authority in the government became a point of reassurance for a population that had very little, if any, experience of democracy. In this ‗Somaliland democracy,‘ the inclusion of the clan elders was a vital component as ―culture makes the system stable;‖89 in a time of upheaval and transition, the inclusion of the Guurti was an association to the familiar clan governance in an otherwise unfamiliar system. Whereas in many parts of the south the clan was a point of contention, in the north the leaders were able to utilise the clan to bridge the gap between the government project and the population. In its internal- external capacity, the Guurti became a chain linking the familiar forms of governance
with the new; a tempering link that eased the creation of a central government in a territory that was understandably wary of centralised rule. Because of the ―turbulent times‖ and the recent history of Somaliland, it was not possible to ―get rid of the old ways quickly,‖ thereby reinforcing the importance of the old in the new government. Even though the traditional guurti has been altered to fit its contemporary institutionalised role, the trusted clan association has contributed to the Guurti’s successes, not only in the area of security but also in obtaining popular support for the government and the introduction of democratic concepts and practices. The upper house, as a part of both the modern and the traditional, is helping to ease tensions in the transitions and transformations taking place in Somaliland. With the inclusion of the Guurti and by negotiating Somaliland culture and traditions with democracy and the modern state, the creators of the government and those that followed founded the hybrid government that the territory proudly boasts today.
Because of the expressed legislative role of the body, many in the government argue that the inclusion of the traditional is merely symbolic, acting more as a point of reference and reassurance for the population than as a traditional body in practice. Few would dispute the importance of Guurti in this role, however, recognising that the transition period would have been more difficult without the presence of the ‗old‘ clan governance in the ‗new‘ government. Just as it did during the SNM campaign and the immediate post-war reconciliation period, the Guurti‘s place in reconciling the old and the new and mediating between the traditional and the modern, even if only as a symbolic presence, creates stability and lends legitimacy to the government, making this a vital role of the body.

The Bridge: Mediator and Advisor
The role of the Guurti as a bridge extends beyond the symbolic representation of the clan system in a democratic government. This role also extends into another function of the body as the inclusion of the traditional moves beyond the symbolic and into the practical through the mediation capacity of the council of elders. The constitution grants the upper house the power to advise and oversee the government as well as alert the House of Representatives of any ―shortcomings of the administration of the
Government, and these constitutional responsibilities have been broadly interpreted by the government and the body itself during the formation of the government, with considerable latitude conceded. These interpretations have resulted in the Guurti’s intended role as the mediating influence in Somaliland politics and the state formation process.91 As part of this, the upper house has been handed the responsibility to reconcile between branches of the government and more controversially, the power to extend the mandates of the branches of government if the need arises.
Whereas in its more symbolic role the House of Elders connects the people to the government through the institution of the clan, here the Guurti acts in a quasi-judicial manner that is similar to the historic role of the ad hoc clan councils as the Guurti becomes the mediator within the government itself. In this mediation role, the Guurti not only upholds its responsibility to ensure that the government actions do not contradict culture and tradition, but also ensures that contention within the government is resolved. One value of indigenous institutions is that they ―reflect fundamental understandings among affected individuals, who must deal with each other within the context of a particular problem area on how to overcome dilemmas of
Whilst there is a broad range of situations in which this is
applicable, including conflict resolution and development, it is also appropriate when discussing the Guurti’s role in intra-governmental reconciliation. During the formation of the state in Somaliland, the Guurti, as the representation of clan governance and also because of this, has repeatedly provided fora in which problems can be addressed and resolved, as well as in some instances acting as the referee in those fora. Even though the body‘s role in the state formation process changed following the Hargeisa Conference, the advisory capacity of the Guurti ensures its continuation as a body both within and suspended outside the government. As one member of the House of Elders remarks, the continuing and complex internal-external placement of the Guurti makes the body ―a bridge between the Government [president] and the parliament.‖93 As well as acting as a bridge, and sometimes a buffer, the upper house also acts as a political seismograph, cautioning when the actions or inactions of the government pose a threat to stability in the state as a whole.
Indeed, part of the upper house‘s capacity in this role is to fill in where the government is weak, again reverting to clan governance as a fall-back when it is needed for continuity and stability. Both the mediation and the advisory roles that have emerged derive from the Guurti’s traditional association, but with the upper house mediating and advising within a government of which it is a part it is granted immeasurable power in determining the future course of the government and therefore itself.
The Guurti regularly exerts its role as mediator and advisor, most notably when changes in the composite membership of the government threaten stability or present challenges to the state. Following the 2003 presidential election in which an eighty vote margin separated the winner and the runner-up, the Guurti negotiated the concession of the runner-up candidate; this intervention was viewed by many as a politically neutral action carried out in the interest of maintaining stability in the first major test of democratic elections in the territory. The result was a peaceful outcome, a continuation of the integrity of the government and the electoral process, and a smooth transition from an appointed to an elected presidency. More recently, the Guurti exercised its role as mediator following the 2005 House of Representatives election. When the newly elected lower house held its first session, contention between the political parties over leadership of the house ensued. The resulting stalemate threatened to destabilise the government and undermine the election
process. The Guurti intervened to resolve the issue, negotiating an agreement
between all three parties that gave control of the house to a coalition of the opposition parties.94 The Guurti is often looked to when an intra-governmental problem arises, and this quasi-judicial role has been invaluable in maintaining governmental stability during the period of state formation. In many ways, the upper house ensures that political positions and relationships within the Somaliland government remain balanced, cooling hotspots before they can develop into serious threats to the continuation of the state formation and democratisation processes. Current disputes directly involving the upper house, however, may threaten this role. These disputes will be discussed in length in the next chapter.
In its advisory capacity the Guurti also acts as an overseer of the government, testing the state of affairs of both the government and the territory and advising on what is needed for continued stability. Whilst this responsibility could fall under the house‘s security responsibilities, in practice this has extended beyond that outlined in the constitution and instead reflects the role of the Guurti established in the 1993 Peace Charter. This is most evidently expressed in the house‘s ability to extend the mandates of the branches of government in times when it is determined that elections or other membership changes would be impossible, impractical or destabilising. This power allows for the Guurti alone to extend the term of office of the members of government and also allows for the body to propose the postponement of elections. Whilst the Guurti itself cannot officially cancel or reschedule the electoral process, by extending the mandate of a governmental body or institution the house is effectively doing just that. Prior to the first presidential election in 2003 the Guurti exercised the power of extension in order to ensure that elections took place only when stability and logistical capacity were assured. The mandate of the lower house was also extended in 2005 to allow more time to prepare for elections. More controversially, in 2006, the Guurti extended its own mandate, citing election fatigue and uncertainty over the procedures for determining membership of the house as the reasons for postponement. This power was again exercised with the postponement of the 2008 local and presidential elections as security concerns in the eastern provinces of Sanaag and Sool were deemed prohibitive to conducting national elections. Although now proving to be problematic, this power of extension has been exercised to ensure continuity of and trust in the electoral process and to maintain stability in the territory during the creation and strengthening of the state and modern democratic practices.
Whilst all the roles of the Guurti define its capacity as an integral component of both the government and society, the Guurti membership widely maintains that their most important contributions are keeping the peace, both within the territory and the government. Interestingly, however, the body views itself as a legislative body first and a reconciliation or mediation body second.95 In its self-written public presentation of purpose, the Guurti portrays itself as a modern governmental institution, with its
legislative capacity of primary importance.96 In speaking with numerous members of the house, they indicate that maintaining the legislative position is a means of ensuring a future role for the body; by positioning the body as legislative rather than reconciliatory, there is justification for the house within a modern democratic government. Some members also discuss the legislative position in relation to the British House of Lords or the American Senate, removing the connotation of the clan and positing the institution as a legislative body akin to those in Western states. In doing this, however, those members are omitting the vital advisory, mediation and reconciliation roles exercised by the Guurti and definitive of its position within the government. As a legislative body the Guurti is an institution of modern government, but its duality as a body both within and external to the government provides the guidance and bridges without which the successes in Somaliland would not be as marked. Unlike in the south, leaders in the north were able to utilise the clan – both practically and symbolically – to facilitate the introduction of a central democratic government and also to ensure continued stability throughout the state formation process. The Guurti, in its numerous and varied roles, was central to that.

Conclusions
The inclusion of the traditional authority in the governing structure of the SNM undoubtedly contributed to the success of the movement. Without the assistance of the respected and influential elders it is likely that the movement would have either collapsed due to lack of resources or would have succumbed to fighting the people it was attempting to liberate. With the assistance of the Guurti, the SNM was able to foster peace and stability in post-conflict Somaliland, paving the way for the establishment of the new government. As Lewis identifies:
[i]n comparison with the heavy-handed and largely unsuccessful UN and other international efforts to impose peace from the top in southern Somalia, this was an impressive testimony to the effectiveness of traditional grass-roots Somali diplomacy.
The presence of the traditional elders in the movement also marked the beginning of the institutionalisation of the traditional Somali governing structure into a modern democratic government. Although the governance structure of the clan elders had been utilised by the British authorities during colonisation, thereby arguably changing the nature of the traditional in the territory, primary identification with the clan was static and the elders continued to hold positions of respect within the clans. Disillusionment with the clan system in the early post-independence years diminished under Barre and the centrality and importance of the clan re-emerged in the north. Again, the elders became the carers of society in Somaliland.
With the institutionalisation of the Council of Elders into the new Somaliland government, the elders were fully co-opted by the political leadership firstly as a stabilising factor in the post-conflict era, and secondly as a means to reconcile democracy with the traditional clan system. According to Abdirahman Aw Ali Farah, those responsible for the creation of Somaliland had observed that they could not
―jump from the lowest part of the ladder to the top; we needed the Guurti, and we needed them to make the clans share something. This was preferable to imposing democracy that no one knew.‖98 Positing the traditional body within the government, however, altered the traditional notion of the body and changed the nature of the council of elders as the historically apolitical body became a legislative institution in a multi-party democratic government structure. Although the Guurti does in many ways resemble the traditional body that negotiated agreements and established customary law, it is also now directly implicated in the political practice of creating legislation and functioning as a government institution. Further, though, the Guurti is entrenched in the political realm as the advisor and referee of the government; even if the body does maintain impartiality, its involvement in this capacity makes it an intrinsic actor in the political process. Just as Mohammed Said Gees sees the Somali people as existing in both the Somali and the Western worlds, so does the Guurti, existing in both the old and new ways of governing in Somaliland. However, as the government in Somaliland continues to stabilise and grow, and as democratic governance and practices in Somaliland continue to take hold, the necessity of the body in its traditionally associated capacities is being questioned. With the first election of the
House of Representatives in 2005, the legislative capacity also comes under scrutiny as the position of an unelected legislative body in the modern democratic government is at the centre of discussion.
Many in the Somaliland government claim that the both the SNM Guurti and the multifaceted House of Elders is why peace has been sustained in Somaliland but not Somalia. The inclusion of clan governance did contribute to the stability of the territory, but one must be careful as to not place all the credit with the Guurti as other significant factors contributing to Somaliland‘s success were also present. Certainly the benign neglect of the British colonisers and isolation in the unified state allowed for the continuation of clan practices and the emergence of a sense of solidarity in the face of neglect and violence. In addition, the dominance of the Isaaq in the territory and the SNM, and the SNM‘s status of victor over Barre helped ease the post-conflict transition to independent statehood and stability. The non-interference of the international community must also not be overlooked. Without the presence of foreign peacekeepers or state-builders, Somaliland was able to foster peace and to domestically create a government, making it a Somaliland project rather than an international project as is seen in the south. The inclusion of these other factors in the consideration of accomplishments in the north, however, does not negate the role of the clan. Although the Guurti may have had more favourable conditions in which to work than it would have had in the south, this does not exclude the value of its presence in not only peace and reconciliation but also the creation of a government and a state. Because of the value of the Guurti in the central government, Somaliland was able to achieve what has been accomplished without the interference of the international community; and because the external influences were minimal, Somaliland was able to create a state in a way that was seen as best for Somaliland. Rather than the traditional authority acting as a backwards or unpredictable actor in the state, the inclusion of the clan, dependence on the clan and, when needed, primacy of the clan has been vital in the creation of a stable territory and a stable government in Somaliland. For Somaliland, the institutionalised traditional authority is not a sacrifice of acceptable statehood, but rather a necessity for acceptable statehood to be achieved in the emerging state.
Many within the government are apt to emphasise that the inclusion of the traditional sets the aspiring state apart from established Western states, but they also recognise that for Somaliland this deviation was essential for the introduction of the modern government. Influenced by external global discourses, those creating the Somaliland government incorporated normative ideals for success whilst at the same time tailoring these in order to prevent a repeat of past problems and failures of government. In Somaliland, history, culture and tradition were incorporated into the state formation process in order to foster stability; the state came from within Somaliland rather than as part of a package from the outside. Although the path has not been entirely smooth, the creation of a hybrid government in Somaliland has allowed for the state formation process to take place. The question now facing the territory, however, is how long can the hybrid survive?
Few members of the current government view the inclusion of traditional authority as a hindrance to the initial period of development of the state, and few within the executive branch or the upper house itself indicate that the presence of traditional authority in the central government harms Somaliland‘s campaign for recognition. However, this view is not shared by all members of the government, and is
particularly disputed within the opposition parties of the elected House of Representatives. Abdulkadir argues that whilst in the short term clan representation was beneficial in ending conflict, in the long term the potential for clan misuse and abuse means that the clan cannot remain in the political arena.99 Similarly, Shuke maintains that ―clan leaders and elders are not trained or educated to be state leaders, intellectuals, political thinkers, government functionaries, or professional managers of a modern state … clan rule and democracy, as conceived by the West, are two incompatible institutions.‖100 Within the lower house, many share this view, claiming that the Guurti is backwards and restricts Somaliland‘s progression to a modern democratic state. The debate surrounding this issue highlights a key question regarding the place of the traditional authority in the government of Somaliland: how
is the relationship between the ‗old‘ and the ‗new‘ changing in the democratising government? In addition, what is the future of the hybridity of Somaliland‘s government? The upper house itself is already conflicted as to whether its primary purpose is legislative or traditional, and confusion over the role of the Guurti in the future exists within the rest of the government. Somaliland is currently assessing if the territory is ready or willing to remove or alter the traditional, and whether or not this is necessary for furthering the state. Addressing the debate surrounding this issue is the focus of the next chapter.

By Rebecca Richards