By- Fasil Z
Abiy Ahmed’s diplomatic visit to Mogadishu on February 27, 2025, might appear as a statesman smoothing over rough edges, but beneath this thin veneer lies a desperate scramble to clean up the mess he created with the Somaliland Memorandum of Understanding (MoU). Signed on January 1, 2024, the MoU—trading sea access for a vague nod of recognition—didn’t just backfire; it transformed Ethiopia into a regional pariah and exposed Abiy’s pattern of prioritizing optics over strategy. This visit to Somalia feels less like a diplomatic breakthrough and more like a desperate attempt to undo the damage of his previous blunder.
Let’s examine the MoU itself: a half-baked agreement that promised Ethiopia a naval foothold but delivered nothing but diplomatic chaos. Somalia didn’t just object—it erupted, viewing the deal as a blatant violation of its sovereignty. Abiy’s justification, wrapped in lofty rhetoric about Ethiopia’s “natural right” to access the sea, ignored the highly volatile dynamics of the Horn of Africa. In response, Somalia expelled Ethiopia’s ambassador, declared the MoU null and void, and cozied up to Egypt and Turkey, eager to counterbalance Addis Ababa’s growing ambitions. For a leader who brokered peace with Eritrea, Abiy seemed to forget a fundamental lesson: neighbors don’t take kindly to having their territorial integrity bartered behind their backs.
The ripple effects of the MoU were swift and brutal. Somalia ramped up its military presence, Egypt increased arms shipments, and Turkey took on a larger mediation role. These moves didn’t emerge in a vacuum—they were direct reactions to Abiy’s provocative actions. His insistence on pushing forward, even as Somaliland’s own citizens and politicians began to backtrack, revealed a stunning disconnect from reality. The deal’s vagueness—would Ethiopia truly recognize Somaliland or was it merely a symbolic gesture?—only deepened the confusion, leaving both allies and adversaries questioning Abiy’s endgame. By mid-2024, Ethiopia found itself diplomatically isolated, with its peacekeeping troops under scrutiny and Abiy’s regional influence in tatters.
So, what is this trip to Mogadishu really about? On the surface, it’s a peace offering, but one born out of necessity, not foresight. The Ankara Declaration in December 2024, where Ethiopia grudgingly acknowledged Somalia’s unity, wasn’t a diplomatic triumph—it was a forced concession after months of deadlock. Hassan Sheikh Mohamud had stonewalled Abiy until the MoU was effectively rendered null and void, and it was only through Turkey’s intervention that this handshake became possible. Abiy might be smiling in the photos, but it’s the grin of a man who knows he miscalculated—his hand too far stretched, his credibility damaged.
At home, this diplomatic dance looks like a desperate attempt to salvage domestic support in the face of Ethiopia’s unraveling—rising rebellions, runaway inflation, and a post-Tigray hangover. The MoU was sold as a legacy-defining victory, but in reality, it’s left Ethiopia with more enemies and no port. Abiy’s pivot to damage control doesn’t undo the fact that he misjudged Somalia’s resolve, overestimated Somaliland’s unity, and underestimated the regional backlash. His diplomatic overtures since the MoU have not rebuilt trust—they have only underscored how much he has squandered.
In the final analysis, Abiy’s ill-fated Somaliland gamble was a textbook example of hubris, not diplomacy. His attempts to patch things up now are less about genuine repair and more about saving face. The Horn of Africa deserves more than a leader who stumbles into crises and then scrambles for applause in an effort to cover his tracks.
