From the Time Magazine
Terror's Playground
More than a decade after U.S. troops pulled
out, Somalia has fallen to Islamic fundamentalists. Here's why it could become
the world's next nightmare
Posted Sunday, Nov. 19, 2006
On a
dusty side street in Somalia's former capital, there's little that
distinguishes Mohammed's stall from the others. A grenade rests against a box
of ammunition next to a row of AK-47s, and still more
rifles hang from nails beneath a patch of tin roofing. His booth occupies prime
real estate in the center of Mogadishu's Bakaraaha Arms Market, and he obsessively polishes his guns
with an oil-stained rag in a battle against sand and grit. But few passersby show interest. Once one of the most bustling,
bristling arms bazaars in the world, the Mogadishu weapons market is weathering
a down cycle, with business a mere fraction of what it was in the days when
warlords settled internecine grudges in the city's streets. Mohammed's average
daily sales have dropped from 15 AKs to just
three--and prices have fallen by almost half, to $300. "The only good job
was selling guns," says Mohammed, 24. "Now I
don't know what I'll do."
In
most strife-torn parts of the world, a bear market for weapons would be cause
for relief. But tranquillity rarely lasts long in Somalia. Since the overthrow
of dictator Mohammed Siad Barre in 1991, the country has been a byword for
dysfunction, less a nation-state than a destitute, unremittingly violent land
ruled by the barrel of a gun. Last June the warlords' grip on power was finally
broken by a dedicated confederacy of fundamentalist Muslim militias that fought
their way into the former capital and sent the warlords fleeing.
Since
then, the Muslim militias, which call themselves the Islamic Courts Union
(ICU), have consolidated their claim to Mogadishu and expanded their control to
include most of Somalia, particularly the fertile lands and strategic ports in
the country's south. Meanwhile, the U.N.-backed transitional government is unraveling. Confined to the squalid town of Baidoa near the Ethiopian border, the government is
dependent on foreign money and security and crippled by internal dissent and
mass resignations.
The
fear is that Somalia, a country with nearly 9 million Muslims and one that the
U.S. has long suspected is a haven for al-Qaeda, may fall further into the
hands of Islamic fundamentalists sympathetic to terrorist organizations. A
report by the U.N.-chartered watchdog group on Somalia, which was submitted to
the U.N Security Council last week, says the ICU has developed extensive ties
with groups and states steeped in terrorism.
The
report states that the ICU sent "approximately a 720-person-strong
military force to Lebanon to fight alongside Hizballah
against the Israeli military" during this summer's monthlong
war. In exchange, Hizballah's leadership "has
made arrangements" for governments like Iran's and Syria's to contribute
arms and supplies to the ICU. And senior leaders within the ICU, including
co-leader Sheik Hassan Dahir
Aweys, allegedly have direct ties to al-Itihaad al-Islamiya, a radical
group suspected of links to al-Qaeda.
Leaders
of the ICU deny such allegations, but it's telling that they don't seem
particularly bothered by them. "We believe the war against terrorism is a
war against Islam," says the hard-line ICU national security chairman,
Sheik Yusuf Indahaadde. "Those
who are making trouble are not based here." Then, in English, the sheik
adds forcefully, "Bush is the mother and father of terrorism."
And
yet, in spite of the Islamists' disreputable allies, many Somalis cannot
remember a time when they felt safer. For Americans, the single, searing image
of Somalia was formed in October 1993, after two U.S. Black Hawk
helicopters--part of a U.S. mission to provide humanitarian relief and restore
order--were felled by militias loyal to warlord Mohammed Farrah
Aidid. Eighteen U.S. special forces
were killed, and the world community's involvement in Somalia effectively
ended. What followed was a decade and a half of intermittent war that reduced
Mogadishu to rubble. Along the "green line," the architectural gem of
the former Italian colony that bore the brunt of the warlords' reign, the once
proud edifice of the National Bank is obliterated, and only a stone shard
remains of the cathedral's twin bell towers.
But
over the past few months, there have been glimpses of progress. In the
clearings between bullet-pocked buildings and along the city's broad, leafy
avenues, children play soccer and a decade's worth of trash is slowly being
hauled away. Extortionate militia checkpoints and roving bands of technicals--pickups mounted with heavy artillery and
carrying armed thugs--have been replaced by disciplined Islamic troops. The
city's ports have reopened, buses travel the roads by day, and Somali families stroll the sidewalks by night. Barring the notable
exceptions of a Swedish journalist and an Italian nun who were recently
murdered, there's no denying Mogadishu's new semblance of order. "This is
an area of the world that we would obviously like to see stable, and [the
Islamists] are doing that to some extent," says a Western diplomat. "So
if what you see is what you get, then maybe it isn't the worst thing in the
world."
The
Islamists who control the city occupy a whitewashed compound in Mogadishu. They
are eager to present their domination as a fait accompli. "We are ready to
be a nation," says Foreign Minister Ibrahim Hassan Addou. "We want
Somalia to be peaceful, and we want to establish good relations with the rest
of the world." With both hands, he beckons toward the open window in his
office. "Feel free to look around," he says. "You can go where
you want to go and see what you want to see."
Well,
not quite. The Islamists have instituted Taliban-style rules banning drinking,
cinemas, dancing and women swimming, as well as curbing the press. Sheik Sharif Sheik Ahmed, the ICU's co-leader, insists these
restraints are the product of spontaneous acts of piety by the public. "We
don't have any rules issuing from the Islamic Courts to stop any of this,"
he insists. "The people are doing this by themselves without intervention
by us." That seems open to dispute. Just last week, after protests erupted
over the shortage of khat, the seemingly ubiquitous
narcotic chewed in Somalia, the Islamists ordered a ban on the drug. It's
unlikely to go over well. "It's good to stop hashish and harder
things," says a man at a khat stall in
Mogadishu, "but cigarettes and beer? There will be a day when people say,
Wait, they have gone too far. I am sure of it."
The
Islamists' takeover is a parable of the unintended consequences of the U.S.'s
war on terrorism. After Sept. 11, the U.S. intelligence community, acting on
concerns that Somalia's lawlessness could be exploited by al-Qaeda, initiated
the Alliance for the Restoration of Peace and Counterterrorism, a covert
program that funneled aid to warlords in return for
their assistance in capturing suspected terrorists. One of those warlords
approached by U.S. operatives was Osman Hassan Ali Atto. Once a top
financier of warlord Aidid--Atto
was captured just a week before the downing of the Black Hawks in 1993--he is
the last independent warlord in Mogadishu, a testament to his ability to play
both sides of the net. Blunt-spoken and avuncular, Atto
disparaged the U.S. cash-for-warlords program. "It was a waste of
money," he says at his junkyard in Mogadishu, where the rusting hulks of
dozers and pavers are still scarred by flak from U.S. missiles some 15 years
ago. "I always told them that America's interests [should be] a government
that is put in place without the pressure of money. They had their own
ambitions to capture certain individuals. But I told them to f___ off. We are
not for sale."
But
other warlords were. Payments totaling several
hundred thousand dollars were funneled to various
militia groups, according to U.N. sources. The program was an open secret in
Somalia and among the African diplomatic corps, but its only success was to
bolster support for the Islamic Courts among a population weary of anarchy and
opposed to foreign meddling. "It was a spectacular disaster," says
John Prendergast of the International Crisis Group. "Not only were the
militia leaders routed, but the U.S. and CIA support for these militias led to
strengthened support for the Islamic Courts."
Poorly
trained and addled by khat, Mogadishu's bands of
thugs were no match for the highly regimented and dedicated Islamic soldiers. After
just three months, the warlords were decisively routed this summer. "The
warlords, they did not know how to fight," an ICU militia trainer says
during a tour of his training camp just outside Mogadishu. "They had the
guns and the money and the khat, but they did not
have the heart. For many months we have not been paid to fight, whether in
money or in khat. We fight with our hearts."
Those
aren't their only weapons. The U.N. watchdog report circulated to the Security
Council last week says Syria has equipped and trained the ICU military. On July
27, the report says, "200 fighters from the ICU were transported by
aircraft to Syria to undergo military training in guerrilla warfare." The
report also says a Syrian plane delivered a "large quantity" of arms,
including surface-to-air missiles, to the ICU in early September. On at least
two occasions, Iran supplied the ICU with arms, including a shipment on July 25
of 1,000 machine guns and grenade launchers, an unknown quantity of mines and
ammunition, and 45 shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles.
In
mid-August, a large dhow originating in Iran and carrying arms, medical
supplies and food arrived at a Mogadishu seaport. Included in the shipment were
80 man-portable surface-to-air missiles and launchers. The U.N. also charges
that "at the time of writing of this report, there were two Iranians in Dhusa Mareb engaged on matters
linked to the exploration of uranium in exchange for arms to the ICU." In
separate letters written to the U.N., Syria and Iran denied having any
involvement.
Foreign
diplomats warn that the arms buildup may be a prelude
to a wider war. Despite being sidelined by the Islamists, the transitional
government still enjoys the full-throated backing of the international
community and is being armed to the teeth by neighboring
Ethiopia--a necessary violation of the country's arms embargo if the
transitional government is to survive, but hardly endearing to most Somalis,
for whom Ethiopia is a blood enemy. Meanwhile, Ethiopia's main rival in the
region, Eritrea, has funneled arms and forces to the
ICU. Peace talks between the Islamists and the transitional government have
largely collapsed, and skirmishes are increasing.
The
African Union plans to deploy some 7,000 African peacekeepers to keep the two
sides at bay. But the Islamists have made clear they will consider this an act
of war. "If they come, we will view them as invading troops," said
Ahmed. "And we are ready to defend ourselves because we are not ready to
be colonized again by any sort of troops in the world." Without those
peacekeepers, however, the two sides seem destined to clash. A face-off would
surely drag Ethiopia and Eritrea into a proxy--if not outright--war. The
Islamists' stated aim to unite all of Somalia is believed to include the
secular breakaway territories of Puntland and Somaliland,
as well as portions of Kenya and Ethiopia. Once fighting has begun, there's
little to prevent Somalia from becoming a conflict that could engulf the Horn
of Africa, cause horrific loss of life and create the continent's next major
humanitarian crisis.
With
those storm clouds gathering, the Islamists in Mogadishu are intent on
solidifying their hold on power, dispensing their harsh brand of justice and
leaving no doubt about who's in control. A reminder of
that came on a clear blue morning in mid-October, when thousands of Somalis
gathered at the parade ground of the old police barracks on the city's battered
coast. Guards led a tall, undernourished man, condemned to death for killing
another man, to a clearing in the center. After a
reading from the Koran, the man conducted his ablutions, said a prayer and was
led to a post facing eight soldiers in balaclavas and armed with AKs. His hands and feet were tied and his eyes blindfolded.
With the bright blue sea behind him and puffy white clouds above, and to the
jubilant shouts of Allahu akbar (God is great) from the crowd, the man's head
and stomach were ripped by bullets.
In
mid-August, a large dhow originating in Iran and carrying arms, medical
supplies and food arrived at a Mogadishu seaport. Included in the shipment were
80 man-portable surface-to-air missiles and launchers. The U.N. also charges
that "at the time of writing of this report, there were two Iranians in
Dhusa Mareb engaged on matters linked to the exploration of uranium in exchange
for arms to the ICU." In separate letters written to the U.N., Syria and
Iran denied having any involvement.
Foreign
diplomats warn that the arms buildup may be a prelude to a wider war. Despite
being sidelined by the Islamists, the transitional government still enjoys the
full-throated backing of the international community and is being armed to the
teeth by neighboring Ethiopia--a necessary violation of the country's arms
embargo if the transitional government is to survive, but hardly endearing to
most Somalis, for whom Ethiopia is a blood enemy. Meanwhile, Ethiopia's main
rival in the region, Eritrea, has funneled arms and forces to the ICU. Peace
talks between the Islamists and the transitional government have largely
collapsed, and skirmishes are increasing.
The
African Union plans to deploy some 7,000 African peacekeepers to keep the two
sides at bay. But the Islamists have made clear they will consider this an act
of war. "If they come, we will view them as invading troops," said
Ahmed. "And we are ready to defend ourselves because we are not ready to
be colonized again by any sort of troops in the world." Without those
peacekeepers, however, the two sides seem destined to clash. A face-off would
surely drag Ethiopia and Eritrea into a proxy--if not outright--war. The
Islamists' stated aim to unite all of Somalia is believed to include the
secular breakaway territories of Puntland and Somaliland, as well as portions
of Kenya and Ethiopia. Once fighting has begun, there's little to prevent
Somalia from becoming a conflict that could engulf the Horn of Africa, cause
horrific loss of life and create the continent's next major humanitarian
crisis.
With
those storm clouds gathering, the Islamists in Mogadishu are intent on
solidifying their hold on power, dispensing their harsh brand of justice and
leaving no doubt about who's in control. A reminder of that came on a clear
blue morning in mid-October, when thousands of Somalis gathered at the parade
ground of the old police barracks on the city's battered coast. Guards led a
tall, undernourished man, condemned to death for killing another man, to a
clearing in the center. After a reading from the Koran, the man conducted his
ablutions, said a prayer and was led to a post facing eight soldiers in
balaclavas and armed with AKs. His hands and feet were tied and his eyes
blindfolded. With the bright blue sea behind him and puffy white clouds above,
and to the jubilant shouts of Allahu akbar (God is great) from the crowd, the
man's head and stomach were ripped by bullets.
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