Mogadishu (Caasimada Online) – What was meant to be a landmark summit on regional security in the Horn of Africa instead turned into a tense diplomatic standoff, laying bare the deepening divide between two key regional players: Somalia and Ethiopia.
The Eastern African Standby Force (EASF) summit, hosted for the first time in Mogadishu—a symbolic milestone for Somalia—was quickly overshadowed by Ethiopia’s controversial pitch to deploy a naval unit under the new African Union peacekeeping mission known as AUSSOM.
Though Addis Ababa framed the proposal as a gesture of regional solidarity, Somalia’s swift and adamant rejection exposed far more than a simple disagreement over troop deployment. Beneath the surface, it revealed strategic anxieties rooted in Ethiopia’s contentious maritime deal with Somaliland and its broader ambitions in the region, raising concerns that could unravel fragile cooperation across the Horn.
Why a naval offer set off alarm bells?
At first glance, Ethiopia’s offer to contribute naval forces might appear to be a good-faith commitment to regional security. But for Somali officials, the move rang alarm bells—seen not as peacekeeping, but as provocation.
Earlier last year, Ethiopia signed a controversial agreement with Somaliland, the self-declared breakaway region in northern Somalia, to lease a stretch of coastline in exchange for possible diplomatic recognition. Somalia swiftly condemned the deal, calling it a blatant violation of its sovereignty. Relations between the two countries have remained tense ever since.
So, when Ethiopia proposed stationing naval forces along Somalia’s coast—just months after that port deal—officials in Mogadishu saw it as anything but coincidental. To them, it appeared to be a calculated step toward securing a permanent maritime presence under the convenient cover of an African Union mission.
“You can’t sign a deal with a separatist region, then ask to park your navy in our waters,” said one senior Somali adviser. “It doesn’t work that way.”
The EASF summit, bringing together military, police, and civilian leaders from 10 member states to address regional security threats such as terrorism and cross-border crime, quickly turned contentious. What began as a hopeful opportunity for collaboration ended in “uproar and shouting,” derailing the summit’s very first day.
Ethiopia has been landlocked since Eritrea gained independence in 1993, and since then, it has sought alternative access to the sea, not just for trade, but also for geopolitical leverage. Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has repeatedly emphasized this need, calling sea access an “existential issue” for his rapidly expanding economy.
The Somaliland agreement was one pathway—a bid for direct access to the Red Sea. The naval offer under the AUSSOM framework is another, one that could legitimize Ethiopia’s maritime presence through a multinational mission.
On paper, it’s a shrewd move: contribute to a peacekeeping mission, help stabilize a neighbor, and quietly expand influence at sea. But for Somalia, the offer felt like part of a larger pattern—one where gestures of cooperation mask deeper strategic encroachment.
Peacekeeping, or power politics?
This latest dispute raises a broader, uncomfortable question for the African Union and its peacekeeping operations: Are some nations leveraging these missions to advance their national agendas?
The AU has long championed missions like AUSSOM—launched in January 2025 to succeed ATMIS—as “African solutions to African problems.” Their core mandate is to support the Somali government in defeating Al-Shabaab and promoting national stability. But when troop-contributing countries appear to use these platforms to secure political or territorial advantages, the very foundation of trust that underpins such missions begins to crumble.
Somalia’s sharp rejection of Ethiopia’s naval proposal sends a clear message: sovereignty remains non-negotiable, even under the banner of regional cooperation.
“Multilateralism can’t be a cover for backdoor power plays,” said a regional diplomat familiar with the summit. “Otherwise, the whole thing collapses.”
The Mogadishu summit was supposed to mark a new chapter—proof that Somalia is ready to lead as a full partner in regional peace and security. Instead, it exposed the fault lines that still divide the region and the difficulty of rising above entrenched mistrust.
Planning for AUSSOM will likely continue, with Ethiopia expected to contribute forces alongside Uganda, Djibouti, Kenya, and Egypt. But now the question is no longer just about troop numbers. It’s about credibility. Who is genuinely committed to Somalia’s security—and who is playing a longer, more strategic game?
For Ethiopia, the naval uproar is a cautionary tale: maritime ambitions, no matter how legitimate, must be pursued with far greater diplomatic sensitivity, especially given the sensitive backdrop of the Somaliland deal. For Somalia, this is a moment to assert its sovereignty and regional leadership without being boxed in by the ambitions of larger neighbors.
And for the broader Horn of Africa, the events in Mogadishu are a sign of things to come. The next frontier of regional competition may no longer be fought only on land, but increasingly, at sea.