Puntland and SSC’s once-strong alliance has fractured, with SSC now accused of undermining Puntland’s stability despite having previously benefited from its support.

Puntland, Somalia’s oldest federal member state, was forged from the shared vision of traditional elders, intellectuals, and pragmatists across the country’s northeastern regions. Born in the wreckage of a failed state—amid the chaos and civil war that engulfed Somalia from the late 1980s through the 1990s—Puntland was a bold experiment in self-governance. Five provinces and the district of Buhodle came together to form this new state, united not just by geography but by necessity and a sense of collective survival.

Unlike other experiments in Somali statehood, Puntland’s foundation was built not on clan supremacy, but on consensus. It was a model of inclusivity: every clan involved in its creation saw it as a shared enterprise, a political home built in a time of national ruin. From the start, disputes were settled through dialogue. The very act of maintaining Puntland became an exercise in cooperation.

But the region’s fragile unity was ruptured in 2007 when Somaliland, with the aid of local collaborators, seized Las Anod—the capital of Sool province—and its surrounding areas. The annexation marked a dramatic escalation and set off a slow-burning conflict that would reignite years later.

In late 2023, after a protracted and bloody war, Somaliland forces were expelled from Las Anod. The local community, emboldened by their victory and weary of external control, declared their independence from any existing polity and announced plans to form their own autonomous administration—what would become known as SSC.

During that war, Puntland—its government and its people—stood shoulder to shoulder with SSC. The solidarity was absolute. Puntland sacrificed its soldiers and poured millions into the conflict, viewing SSC’s cause as just and their suffering as a shared burden. Few moments in Somali history illustrate such unwavering unity between the two communities. Puntland not only backed SSC militarily and financially, but also welcomed its aspirations with open arms, publicly endorsing the region’s desire to govern itself.

And yet, today, that very same SSC appears to be turning its back on Puntland. The question is: why?

In the months following Somaliland’s retreat, the relationship between SSC and Puntland deteriorated. SSC, now entangled with actors aligned with the federal government in Mogadishu—Puntland’s chief political rival—has shifted from solidarity to subversion. Along with opportunistic spoilers backed by federal authorities and anti-Puntland elements, SSC has begun sowing discord in the regions of Sanaag and the Highlands.

This is no mere disagreement. These efforts are viewed as a direct challenge to Puntland’s cohesion. Ironically, the very tactics Somaliland once used to marginalize SSC are now being deployed by SSC itself—against the communities of Sanaag and the Highlands, who have consistently expressed satisfaction with their place in Puntland.

That Mogadishu is encouraging this fragmentation is a grim commentary on the dysfunction at Somalia’s center. A federal government ostensibly tasked with uniting the nation has instead become an agent of division. Rather than confronting the growing threat of terrorism in the country’s south—where towns are increasingly falling to extremist forces—it has prioritized internal sabotage, arming militias, and destabilizing one of the few relatively stable regions in Somalia.

One would think the government had learned its lesson after the embarrassing debacle in Jubbaland’s Raas-Kamboni district. However, it once again appears to be consumed by short-term political gain over national interest.

Suppose SSC were to succeed in peeling away Sanaag and the Highlands from Puntland. What would Puntland lose, materially speaking? Not much. These regions lack major revenue-generating infrastructure—no strategic ports, airports, or customs points. Compared to other Puntland provinces, their contributions to the state coffers are minimal.

Conversely, it’s the SSC-affiliated communities that have benefited most from their association with Puntland. The state’s vice president and speaker of parliament—its second and third highest officials—hail from these very regions. Their representation is robust: 26 of Puntland’s 66 MPs come from SSC areas. The cabinet includes a sizable number of ministers, deputy ministers, and state ministers from the same communities. They also fill high-level positions across the civil service, military, and public administration.

Far from being marginalized, these communities are among the most empowered within the Puntland political structure. Their calls of underrepresentation ring hollow when weighed against their visible presence at every level of governance. Indeed, their position is arguably stronger than that of many other clans in the state.

Somalia, a nation already buckling under the weight of dysfunction and insecurity, cannot afford yet another internal fracture. If SSC insists on establishing itself as a separate entity, it must do so within the boundaries of its communities—and refrain from destabilizing regions that remain committed to Puntland’s founding vision.

As for the federal government, it would be well advised to abandon its politics of sabotage. With only a limited window left in its current mandate, it should focus on addressing the spiraling crises in the south rather than fanning the flames in the north.

And to the people of Puntland: this is a time for resolve, not retreat. The future of your state depends on your ability to present a united front. The task at hand is nothing less than defending a political project that, for nearly three decades, stood as a rare example of cooperation in a country all too familiar with collapse.