Published in The Somaliland Times, Vol.2, Issue No.71, 31 May 2003

Human Rights and the Politics of Silence in Somaliland

By Rakiya Omaar

Exchanges between Somaliland's large Diaspora of information and views about the situation “at home”, mainly conducted via email and the internet, reflect the determination outside the country for this new nation to succeed. The economy of Somaliland already relies substantially on the remittances of these men and women. And many regularly and generously use their education and position, usually in the west and in the Arab world, to offer finance, skills and ideas for the development of Somaliland. Like the majority of the country's permanent residents, these people hold their breath as they wait for international recognition of Somaliland. Sitting at their computers at opposite ends of the world, they share a common understanding of the need to present a united front.

Somaliland’s case for recognition depends, after all, upon not being a “basket case.” On a continent where tribalism, clan warfare, political violence, massacres and war are common afflictions, peace is the highest achievement. And when you have come from the back of the race to win this prize, as we in Somaliland have, we all know its true worth. This understanding is why I began writing articles related to issues of human rights and justice soon after returning to Hargeisa a year ago, and it’s also almost certainly why these issues are seen as contentious by some other Somalilanders. My general feeling is that debate in itself is healthy and welcome. Discussions about the kind of nation we want to build in Somaliland are essential; and committed Somalilanders outside the country have as much right to participate in these as those who remained or have returned.

All the same, of late, I have come to realise that, unlike the positive feedback, the few negative responses I have received to my articles have not been targeted at the substance of my opinions; rather they appear resentful of my decision to express them. Speaking only for myself, I can accept, and even understand, why others may wish to quarrel with my views. However, criticisms motivated by a desire to cover up problematic issues have now been aimed at Shadows of the Past as Human Rights Deteriorate, a discussion paper on Somaliland issued by African Rights on 26 May. The paper is based on testimony from people in Somaliland who have, in one way or another, been victimised. In this case, a public response is required.

In a press release issued on 29 May, Rashid Garuf of the Metro-Washington DC Somaliland Community called upon Ahmed Mohamed Siilaanyo, leader of Kulmiye, “to intervene and ask those supporters who make [a] habit of attacking Somaliland interest to control their feelings”, arguing that Shadows of the Past “damaged the interest of Somaliland including [the] chances for recognition.” He went on to say that these “allegations and others like it have political motives and unfortunately their actions hurt Somaliland’s interest much more than Dahir Rayale, his government or Udub party.” Clearly, these are strong claims which African Rights would reject; it already made clear in the introduction to this paper, that “there is an understandable reluctance to broadcast the potential for recent events to spark serious reversals. For many who care about the future of their country, and hope that its gains in terms of peace and security will win it recognition as an independent state, silence might appear to be the best policy. But the shadow of Somaliland’s conflict-ridden past hangs over the issues and personalities at the centre of current political tensions. In this context, silence, coupled with the prevailing lack of international attention, is unlikely to promote the necessary resolve to stem a decline in the human rights situation, which has, unfortunately, begun.”

Mr Garuf’s criticisms were, in fact, directed at me personally, rather than at African Rights. It is important to clarify the distinction between African Rights as an organisation and myself as an individual, although there are overlaps. African Rights was founded in 1992 and since that time its aims and practices have been shaped by many concerned individuals, including myself, firstly as co-director and now as director. But consistently, and above all, the organisation’s work has been defined by its aim of “advocating on behalf of those suffering injustice and oppression.” To achieve this it carries out participatory research, encouraging victims of human rights abuses to speak not only about their experiences but to give their views on how these should be addressed. In other words, African Rights seeks to act as a platform, and the principal voices in its work are those of the people interviewed. It is indicative of the nature and intention of Mr Garuf's criticism, that he has chosen to criticise me rather than the organisation. The aim is to reduce the facts raised in the discussion paper, which he argues are “not true”, to what he perceives to be my personal political beliefs. The effect is to ignore or malign the individuals whose views and experiences are contained in the paper.

Shadows of the Past provided details about the beating of unarmed women and minors by policemen in Hargeisa; the unlawful arrest and detention of peaceful protesters; a ban on the constitutional right to organise demonstrations; restrictions on freedom of movement in Hargeisa; the siege of a group of elders meeting in Gebiley; direct and indirect constraints upon the media and the arrests of journalists; the dismissal from the army of former combatants of the Somali National Movement (SNM): and the arrest and imprisonment, without charges, of a group of ex-combatants. It provides brief snapshot of the current situation; a more comprehensive national coverage of human rights problems would undoubtedly make even more dismal reading. Perhaps Mr Garuf knows this, and that is his worry. Certainly Faysal Ali Warabe, the leader of the party, Ucid, knows it. But since he has decided to throw his political lot in with the government, he too has seen fit to attack African Rights’ report.

Amid the many problems Somalilanders are facing, Mr Garuf’s press release is in itself a trivial matter. But there is a certain amount of danger attached to such views. In the many years I’ve been working in human rights reporting, I have encountered such arguments repeatedly, usually from the leaders of dictatorships. The “defence of the national interest” that Mr Garuf claims to be interested in, has frequently been used as the motivation to cover up human rights abuses or to intimidate government critics, including, as we should not forget, by Mohamed Siad Barre in Somalia. Yes, Mr Garuf, we all want to see Somaliland win international support, but my experience tells me it won’t work to pretend that beatings of women and children, or illegal detentions haven't happened. Looking the other way is only likely to increase the opportunities for such acts. Surely that is not the kind of nation we want to live in, and I doubt it’s the kind that many from the Diaspora would want to return to.

International recognition of Somaliland as a sovereign nation is dear to all the people of Somaliland. I am well aware of the political, economic and social cost of the struggle for survival under the current circumstances. But the argument that keeping silent about human rights abuses will advance the cause of recognition is an illusion. Recognition demands proof of sound policies by a government—including respect for human rights—not patriotic statements. Over the past 12 years, the people of Somaliland have shown formidable reserves in their efforts to resolve conflict and to rebuild their shattered homeland. They can, and will, battle for recognition, but on their feet, not on their knees, from a position of truth and self-confidence, not from a policy of silence.

Rakiya Omaar is the director of the human rights organisation, African Rights.