The World's Most Dangerous Place: Inside the Outlaw State of Somalia

by James Fergusson

Although the war in Afghanistan is now in its endgame, the West’s struggle to eliminate the threat from Al Qaeda is far from over. A decade after 9/11, the war on terror has entered a new phase and, it would seem, a new territory. In early 2010, Al Qaeda operatives were reportedly “streaming” out of central Asia toward Somalia and the surrounding region.Somalia, now home to some of the world’s most dangerous terrorists, was already the world’s most failed state. Two decades of anarchy have spawned not just Islamic extremism but piracy, famine, and a seemingly endless clan-based civil war that has killed an estimated 500,000, turned millions into refugees, and caused hundreds of thousands more to flee and settle in Europe and North America.What is now happening in Somalia directly threatens the security of the world, possibly more than any other region on earth. James Fergusson’s book is the first accessible account of how Somalia became the world’s most dangerous place and what we can—and should—do about it.

Genres: Africa, Nonfiction, History, Somalia, Politics, Terrorism, Military Fiction

436 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2013

About the author

Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.

Reviews

[Sleepy Boy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mostly excellent, amazing reporting style and first person interviews. Hard to argue with the conclusions the author draws.

[Chris · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was unexpectedly outstanding. I picked this up on a whim, for a variety of reasons. I enjoy reading books written by journalists, for one. They tend to have a good pace for a non-fiction, and feature first-hand observation. I also live in Columbus, Ohio, which is a major center for the Somali diaspora. I work in a public library, and a large number of our customers are Somali. When you have a large insular subculture in your area, I think it is helpful to try to understand them. I hope that doesn't sound paternalistic, because I don't at all mean it that way. Understanding Somalia, and what these people have left behind, gives me a better window into this culture that is nearby, yet so far away.

The book is primarily centered in 2011 and 2012, when the author traveled to several cities in Somalia, in an attempt to experience the realities of life there. Mogadishu in particular was horrifying to me. A Stalingrad that has lasted a decade. He also travels to various parts of the world to meet members of the diaspora, including Kenya, Minnesota, and London, UK (where he lives, so it might be cheating to count that).

Overall, a great analysis of the current political and economic situation in Somalia, the status of the diaspora, and their connections with al-Shabaab, the Islamist rebel group controlling much of southern Somalia.

[Nick · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the aftermath of the U.S. President's insult of a Somali-born U.S. Congresswoman (who, unlike him, was elected by a majority of the voters in her jurisdiction), let me say that in the course of teaching English to refugees and studying medical interpreting, I have met a few Somali women. They struck me as studious, desirous of and successful at learning English quickly, with great dignity, and grateful to live in a country not shattered by violence.
Even with the bombing this weekend, Somalia seems a bit less dangerous than it was when James Fergusson published his book in 2013; the piracy in particular seems to have abated. Fergusson's book is both detailed and broad, a rare account from the various regional governments (at least as they existed at the beginning of the decade) and refugee communities from Britain to Minneapolis; the portions on refugee communities include not just the usual details of radicalized youth, but especially those who with courage and tenacity struggle to reach their fellow Somalis to adapt and thrive. Fergusson's account of how the Somali clans (and large number of sub-clans) evolve, interact or fight each other is clear, a real achievement. The book is also a telling reminder of how destructive foreign intervention is: colonialism, from the odd couple of the British and Italians, introducing modern weapons, destabilizing traditional structures, and drawing arbitrary boundaries; Al-Shabaab, with its Saudi-influenced ideology (and not without factions) stepping into the chaos following the defeat of Mohammed Siad Barre, one of those dictators who chooses ideology based on who will supply him with loads of weapons. When the Russians abandoned him for the Ethiopians whose territory Siad Barre invaded, he turned American military gifts on his own people. The image of Somali that most Americans remember,"Blackhawk Down", with the desecration of the bodies of American servicemen, resulted in that time-honored trope of Hollywood: the dark-skinned, bloodthirsty savages. Anyone who dies in the service of a nation, especially on a humanitarian mission, deserves the highest honors, but in honoring those servicemen who died in Mogadishu we should also remember that they were part of an operation, that, Fergusson argues, saved as many as a quarter of a million people from dying of starvation. Sic semper Hollywood. Yes, as Fergusson details, there is frightening violence in Somalia, for no one so much as the Somalis. But, I think his even-handed, thorough, and clear investigation and writing also remind us how destructive it is to reduce a complex situation and a whole people to an easy label, a stereotype cobbled together from glances at newspapers and Hollywood moneymakers. The consequences may be on the other side of the world but that in no way offers absolution.

[Epimetheus Xaaji · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book oulines much of the problems in Somalia superficially, but it's outdated. Much has changed since 2013.

[John · Rating 3 out of 5]

Seattle has a fairly large Somali population, so I thought I would try this book to get a better handle on what's going on with them. Unfortunately, it read more like a very long magazine article. I hate to say it but on balance I found the story rather dry - not really general interest, as much as for cultural anthropologists and foreign-policy wonks.

[Philip · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very readable and informative. It is dated now but many of the observations and insights remain relevant to this complex problem and the tragedy of the people who inhabit this tortured part of the world. A good read.

[Catherine · Rating 3 out of 5]

I picked up this book at the library after reading "A House in the Sky" (which I highly recommend.) I found this book to be pretty dry but if you are interested in the region it does a good job of explaining the devastating reality that is Somalia.

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

It is small wonder that so many Somalis blame outsiders for their country’s ills. If Afghanistan is the ‘Cockpit of Asia’, as the Viceroy of India Lord Curzon once said, then Somalia is Africa’s unfortunate equivalent, a nation strategically located at the crossroads of competing powers and ideologies, whose fate it is to be endlessly fought over by foreigners (Fergusson).

Travelling in Ethiopia once to Dire Dawa, my plane took a short stop in Jijiga, and in through the airplane doors of this Ethiopian Airways flight walked beautifully clad colourful women, yellows and purple hues, dark skinned and with a gap between their front teeth, tall and decidedly unEthiopian. That was my first experience of the Somali community in Ethiopia. And this book by James Fergusson has gone a long way in filling this huge hole in my knowledge of Somali history culture and society. Although it was published now almost a decade ago, it is incredibly informative of the trials and tribulations of this amazing community, whose lands and territories were torn apart by colonial interests, and the policy of the divide and rule. The five points in the star on its flag represent the five original territories where they lived: the Ogaden in Ethiopia, Kenya's North Eastern Province, Somaliland, Djibouti and Southern Somalia. Fergusson manages to recount his journey through these lands and with incredible ease weave historic moments and Somali poetic verses in his words. A desert land, a failed state, a region devastated by climate change and religious fanaticism, sapped of its youth by a constant diaspora of minds and hearts, this country is however the point of reference and the mirage of many a Somalian whose desire is to move beyond tribalism and its inevitable divisions to reconstruct a real country, leaving behind its distorted metaphor built into the psyches of many a displaced families. Fergusson's last section is dedicated to the Somali diaspora in the West, the forgotten youth in the streets of London and the States, so frequently targeted by religious fanatics. He visits mosques, cafes, qat bars, youth clubs, community centres and talks to substantial numbers of people. In doing so, he paints a constructive picture of Somalis, their entrepreneurial spirit and drive responsible for the upkeep of many a groups back in the homeland. I am not sure where Fergusson's passion for Somalia comes from but this book definitely shows his commitment to put this once failed state irrevocably back into the layman psyche. 5 stars.

[Aurélien Thomas · Rating 3 out of 5]

First of, let's regret the easy and sensationalist title that doesn't make for a good first impression! Stamping thus Somalia straight of as 'the world's most dangerous place', and being written by a British journalist to depict a country that had more than his fair share of misunderstanding by the western medias I had (yes, simply because of such a poor title!) braced myself for yet again one of those dismissive tale of an hopeless country pointing to everything wrong with Africa! Well, I am glad I passed that and read it anyway, because it's not quite and only so.

Starting when AMISOM forces fought al-Shabaab in the streets of Mogadishu and, ending when al-Shabaab retreated from most of their conquered territories, here indeed is a riveting reportage as interesting as it is harrowing. Travelling around Somalia, sometimes at the risk of his life, the author meets from presidents to pirates, AMISOM soldiers to al-Shabaab deserters and, of course, commoners of all sorts to offer a complex but fascinating snapshot of a baffling country.

Sure it is, at times, gruesome, disturbing, and makes you want to weep in despair (e.g. the constant violence, children soldiers, the disastrous consequences of the famine). It can also be frankly annoyingly unfair and simplistic as when, to try and delve into the far reaching consequences of the civil war James Fergusson meets Somali both in the UK (London) and the US (Minneapolis) to show how easily a lost generation of immigrants can slip into gangs and terrorism! But, a least all this is quite balanced by his meetings with various activists at home and abroad and, most of all, his depiction of the Puntland and Somaliland, to show that successful alternatives are possible. More, pointing fingers at how the West can misunderstand such a region, and therefore completely mismanaged its crisis, such reads also allows for a fair share of the blame to show why Somalia is in the poor state it is.

Bitter and sad picture of a country with a tragic history? Yes. But it nevertheless contains some glimpses of hope for those optimistic enough to believe in possible changes. All in all, an insightful reportage.

[Nyarie · Rating 5 out of 5]

An excellent read to say the least! The book is well-written and provides vivid and easily accessible accounts of the political situation in Somalia. I appreciated the fact that the author did not write the book from a 'superior' position as most Western writers do on African subjects. Fergusson dissects the subject matter of Somalia's past present and future from multifaceted points of view with accounts from Somali individuals themselves- which is excellent. His account was raw, questioning, objective and analytical. Fergusson through his book, takes you to Somalia and back with each turn of a page. The book will leave you brainstorming about what solutions are available and pondering deeply about what the future of Somalia will be. There are immense lessons to be learnt from this book on how things can go terribly wrong for a country. If you have any interest on the situation in Somalia, this is the book for you; even if you do not have an interest in that part of the world- the book is an excellent piece of non-fiction writing that will take you on a journey! A definite recommend!

[Joseph · Rating 3 out of 5]

I first published this review on Cicero magazine
http://ciceromagazine.com/reviews/sha...

Since the rise of al-Shabaab (The Youths) terrorist group, Somalia has never been far from headlines across the globe. It is this troubled and tragic country that journalist James Fergusson profiles in his most recent book, The World’s Most Dangerous Place. Fergusson has had a diverse career, including being a press spokesman for the Office of the High Representative in Sarajevo after the Daytona Peace Accords and he has extensive work as a journalist.

Fergusson’s work on Afghanistan is highly regarded, even if some of his conclusions (such as the suggestion that ISAF should negotiate with the Taliban) might be controversial. Fergusson applies a similar on the ground approach to his latest book, but the subject this time is the Horn of Africa and not Central Asia. In compiling the book Fergusson travelled across “Greater Somalia” from Hargeisa in the north to the Somali majority areas of Kenya in the south.

When Somalia first made global headlines after the end of the Cold War, most of al-Shabaab were still in theirs diapers. Between 1992 and 1995, Somalia was home to the United Nation’s largest international mission, UNOSOM. UNOSOM’s staff of 30,000 consumed an annual budget of $1.5 billion. The international community seemed committed to stabilising Somalia in the spirit of pan-humanism that briefly characterized the Post-Cold War period. Then the fateful 1993 Battle of Mogadishu occurred, best chronicled in Mark Bowden’s 1999 book Black Hawk Down, and in its aftermath the international community decided that stabilizing Somalia wasn’t worth the price. It wasn’t until the rise of the Islamic Courts Union in 2007 that Somalia again captured headlines across the world. The country’s status on the fringe of global news is superficially similar to Afghanistan, which is perhaps why Fergusson decided to make Somalia his next project after extensive reporting in Afghanistan.

Fergusson is a good friend of British Prime Minister David Cameron and since it was published, The World’s Most Dangerous Country has certainly been read in policy circles. The title is a bit of a stretch no matter how we interpret “dangerous.” Fergusson provides much insight into Somalia’s woes in the book, but the argument that this is the most perilous spot on the map deserves some doubt. Having travelled in the Horn of Africa, I would argue that political violence aside, the incidence of violent crime is much higher in, say, Latin America. Secondly, from a geopolitical perspective Pakistan is probably the world’s most dangerous state. Nor is it the terrorist hotspot it once was. In 2014, according to the Institute for Economics and Peace, 32,658 people were killed by terrorism, (compared to 18,111 in 2013) with the top five countries being Afghanistan, Iraq, Nigeria, Pakistan, and Syria. This issue aside, the strength of this book lies in the author’s readiness to examine all of Somalia’s problems and those of its diaspora.



This is one of the more readable journalistic books on an African security problem in part because of Fergusson’s dedication to understanding Somali culture

The “dangerous” referred to in the title might be the result of the fact that this region has been awash in small arms for decades. Modern rifles were first introduced to the area by the French in large numbers during the building of the Addis-Abba-Djibouti railway, allowing homicidal inter-tribal warfare to become genocidal (page 55). During World War I, the Ottomans provided guns to Somalis willing to fight the British. Following World War II, with Ethiopia in ruins and British or Allied control of what is today Kenya, Somalia, and Djibouti, there was for a brief moment an opportunity to create a true nation state. Yet the vision of a Greater Somali alluded to by the five-pointed star on Somalia’s national flag was not realized.

World War II and the Cold War brought even more Western arms to the region. This point is persuasive because few regions in Africa were as much of a geopolitical playground in the 20th century as the Greater Somali region was and the primary beneficiary of this since the end of the Cold War has been Ethiopia. Indeed, the destruction of Somalia was achieved for similar geopolitical reasons as that of Ethiopia, as Somalia once fielded Africa’s most capable army (page 113).

This is one of the more readable journalistic books on an African security problem in part because of Fergusson’s dedication to understanding Somali culture (he clearly studied Somali music and poetry in writing the book). There is also plenty of British imperial history, with references to the Mad Mullah, Sir Francis Burton, and Gerald Hanley. Fergusson talks to religious leaders, the unemployed, those press-ganged into al-Shabaab and those just trying to make ends meet. The author also travels outside of Somalia for his research, including Somali-majority areas in Kenya and Ethiopia and the wider diaspora in the UK and US.

Probably the most intriguing part of the book is the time Fergusson spends in Mogadishu where he meets former al-Shabaab fighters and by chance spends some time with Jerry Rawlings, the half-Scottish former leader of Ghana. He also spends time with frontline Ugandan units battling al-Shabaab in Mogadishu. The discussions with Ugandan military commanders deployed to Somalia are enlightening, though the author seems to feel that Ugandan President Museveni was primarily concerned with regional security when he sent Ugandan troops to Mogadishu. Yet the inverse was true in 2006 when the decision was made for African Union troops to intervene in Somalia and today the Ugandan military believe al-Shabaab is supporting anti-Museveni groups like the ADF. In the Horn of Africa, as in Afghanistan, all is often not as it first appears.

[Fe · Rating 2 out of 5]

A largely readable book on a place I didn't know much about before.

However, some of the descriptions and word choices felt so uncomfortable, unnecessary and downright orientalist in places that it completely undermined many of the interesting insights otherwise on offer:

- "He grinned at me with his mouth full of bad Somali teeth"

- And quoting at length a US military advisor who said that suicide bombings are inevitable in Muslim societies because women are so oppressed that they have high stress hormone levels and therefore fail to bond with their babies, which somehow leads to "cognitive impairments, such as flying planes into buildings rather than just fantasising about it"?

These (and other) parts were such a shame because they detracted from some extremely interesting interviews and scenes, and were frequent enough so as to make the whole reading experience quite uncomfortable.

[Donald Pryde · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bit slower than his usual books but non the less a good insight into Somalia and terrorists

[Dan Parrott · Rating 4 out of 5]

Good book. Put forth an overview of Somali history without digging into the weeds too much. I also though the section on qat was unique and very well done.

[Voracious · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fascinating, if rather depressing.

[Zach]

Pretty good survey of current Somalia. The author not only examines the current issues within the nation but also discusses the large ex pat communities in the US and UK.

[CTEP]

if anyone works with large Somali populations and is interested in the history, culture, politics, etc of what's going on over there and how refugee populations are resettling, I strongly, strongly, strongly suggest you pick up a copy of The World's Most Dangerous Place: Inside the Outlaw State of Somalia by James Fergusson.

It's a pretty hefty book, about 400 pages, and sounds daunting and slightly boring- 400 pages of history and politics? But I assure you it's an amazing read. Fergusson does an amazing job at opening discussions on every possible issue that is afflicting Somalia, both past and present, its hopes for the future, and how it can achieve that future. There's even an entire 30-something page chapter dedicated to Minneapolis (unfortunately, not for the best of reasons..). I found it so interesting because I do primarily work with a Somalian population, and while Fergusson's work isn't encapsulating of all Somalis experiences, it's interesting (and horrifying) to see some of the things that forced them to leave home.


If you end up grabbing a copy, let me know. We can talk about it over coffee.

James Fergusson's book The World's Most Dangerous Place discusses the state of Somalia and its large diaspora as a result of the civil war that has been ongoing since the early 1990s. Interviews with politicians, former Al-Shabaab militants, soldiers fighting with the African Union, UN workers, Somali locals, and members of the diaspora help Fergusson create an all-inclusive image of the effects that the civil war continues to have on the country and the ways in which Somalis are working to introduce a more stable infrastructure. His attention to the enduring Somali clan system hints that introducing such an infrastructure will be difficult, especially as politicians and other decision-makers continue to favor members of their own clans while younger Somalis have begun to denounce the clan system altogether.

While most of The World's Most Dangerous Place focuses on the relationship between Somalia's civil war and terrorism, the most relevant chapters (for me) were those about the Somali populations of London, Minneapolis, and the Nairobi suburb of Eastleigh. These three chapters demonstrated that there is much variation across the diaspora both between and within cities. For example, Somalis living in London appear to have had the least luck reconciling their own culture with that of their new country, despite the fact that many of them have begun to criticize the centuries-old clan system that often prevents effective change from taking place in the modern nation-state of Somalia. Although Fergusson does mention some success stories, the chapter on London paints an overwhelmingly negative picture, detailing drug abuse and significantly above average school dropout rates. Somalis living in Minneapolis and Eastleigh seem to have fared much better, with the two cities being home to a number of Somali-owned businesses and Somali people in positions of power or influence. This is especially true in Eastleigh, where Somali residents have been the catalysts for unprecedented local economic growth. Unfortunately, the chapter on Somalis living in Minneapolis primarily addressed local Somali men who have left the United States to fight for Al-Shabaab and the imam who may or may not have driven them to jihad, along with the Somali community's attempts to prevent further radicalization. As a result, I finished reading The World's Most Dangerous Place with only a minimal understanding of how Somali people living in Minneapolis have both assimilated into and been kept outside of the larger American society.

Although the book was published only two years ago, I do wonder what amendments Fergusson would make to The World's Most Dangerous Place given the changes that have occurred within Somalia and the Somali diaspora recently. For example, Fergusson notes that Al-Shabaab had largely retreated by early 2013. Surely the Al-Shabaab-coordinated attack on Garissa University in northern Kenya earlier this year, as well as the Somali and American governments' attempts to rid the Somali countryside of insurgent-controlled areas last year, would have led Fergusson to write a completely different book from the one he worked on before 2013.

Another new development since The World's Most Dangerous Place was published is the growing number of members of the diaspora who have chosen to move back to Somalia in order to help the country rebuild. While Fergusson does discuss some of these returnees in his book, he primarily focuses on Somali politicians who previously held well-paying and high-ranking jobs in various Western countries. The past couple of years, however, have seen a significant increase in the number of Somalis abroad going back to their home country as a result of a new, permanent government (http://www.startribune.com/more-minne......). While few of these returnees stay in Somalia for as long as the diaspora politicians have, their often negative attitudes about the clan system and their influence on both Somalia itself and the diaspora would likely give Fergusson much to add if he wrote his book today.

[Bill Purkayastha · Rating 3 out of 5]

So where is this “world’s most dangerous place”, you ask? Syria? Iraq? Gaza, which would get my vote? Well, not according to the book. The subtitle says it all: Inside the Outlaw State of Somalia.

[The author admits that the title is controversial and that the Somalis he’d talked to don’t like it. I wouldn’t, too, if I were a Somali. I wouldn’t even though I am not a Somali, because to anyone except the blind and deaf, there are far more dangerous places to be right now.]

Not all that long ago, most of the world had never heard of Somalia, an amazing feat for possibly the single most strategically positioned nation on earth. That changed in 1992, when an American raid on Mogadishu ended with US soldiers’ corpses being dragged through the streets.

The world knows something about that bit, from the racist and militarist film Hollywood made on it, Black Hawk Down. This piece begins where that propaganda film leaves off – what happened after the “heroic” Marines and soldiers left Somalia, at the end of their murderous “humanitarian” mission.

After decades of dictatorship, outside meddling and civil war, Somalia had essentially fragmented into three parts. To the extreme north-west was the self-declared independent state of Somaliland. South-east of that was Puntland, which had declared itself autonomous but not independent. And to the south was Somalia proper, which had had no government since 1991, and which shall be referred to as “Somalia” for convenience for the purposes of this article. What it had was warlords leading clan armies which carved out areas of influence and fought each other bitterly for control.

But in 2006, Somalia finally got a measure of government, by a loose coalition of mullahs and other fundamentalist Muslim factions, known collectively as the Islamic Courts Union, which drove out the warlords. Though the ICU had imported Wahhabism from Saudi Arabia, a form of Islam hitherto unknown to the mystical Sufi religion of Somalia, they actually provided some good governance, at least compared to the warlord hell that had gone before. So they had popular support, and might have stabilised the situation – but for one factor.

That factor was George W Bush.

On the pretext that Somalia was sheltering Al Qaeda, something which was at that time a complete fantasy, Bush encouraged Ethiopia – Somalia’s traditional enemy – to invade Somalia and overthrow the Islamic Courts Union. Now, as stated, the ICU was a combination of disparate groups, with the moderates under Sheikh Sharif Ahmed in charge. They had kept the radicals under control, but once ousted from power, that restraint was removed. The most radical of the radical groups was Al Shabaab, an outfit remarkably similar in its modus operandi to Boko Haram in Nigeria – a group with which it later developed linkages. Unlike Sheikh Sharif, who decided to cooperate with the Ethiopian invaders and their American masters and was rewarded by being reinstated in – carefully supervised – power, Al Shabaab fought an increasingly effective campaign against Ethiopia, and by 2008 had successfully driven out the proxy troops and recaptured Mogadishu and most of Somalia.

At this stage, Al Shabaab faced an existential crisis. Its stated raison d’être – the war against the hated Ethiopian invaders – had been won. It could either disband itself, thus losing the ample sources of revenue it had secured over the years of struggle, or it could continue the fight, now against the “government” headed by Sheikh Sharif. Not too surprisingly, it chose the latter.

In order to protect the “government”, and its “army” of militias, a multinational African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) army entered the country. This chiefly comprised Ugandan and Burundian troops; Uganda, of course, is one of the US’ most complete vassals in Central Africa. By 2011 they were fighting Al Shabaab in vicious trench battles in Mogadishu, adding more layers of ruins to the already many-times destroyed city.

That’s the point where the book I was reading begins – as the AMISOM troops fought their way slowly across Mogadishu towards the main market, and while wounded, sick and starving Somalis flocked to a camp at the fringe of the airport where doctors tried their best to give them what help they could.

Al Shabaab responded to its attackers with its own peculiar brand of viciousness. One of its staples was child soldiers, whom it recruited from the hordes of refugees criss-crossing what was left of the nation. Unlike West African warlords, who typically conscripted child soldiers after murdering their parents, it preferred to recruit children by promising them food and glory, along with a promised salary; a promise rarely kept. Much like ISIS today in Iraq and Syria, it also attracted recruits in fair numbers from abroad, especially from the Somali diaspora – this is something that I will be talking about in more detail later.

Its cruelty to the people under its own control, too, rather like that of ISIS, beggars belief. In one instance the book describes, it amputated the right hands and left legs of some people it decided were thieves – before the stumps had a chance to heal, it then decided it had cut too far down, and cut the limbs all over again. All this was without anaesthetic, of course. And as a crippling drought ravaged Somalia, causing famine, it not only did not provide any relief, it denied that there even was a drought. It tried to stop Somalis from crossing the lines to the side of the “government” or across the border to Kenya or Ethiopia where there was at least something to eat. It literally preferred to starve the population over which it ruled rather than let them get access to relief supplies. If it caught a civilian with medical papers from the aid agencies, it would murder them on the spot. And it painted all its opponents, even those who had formerly been allies and mentors from the days of the ICU, as “infidels”.

Obviously, all this did not make it popular with the Somalis. Even those who despised the so-called “government” and the foreign AMISOM army preferred them to al Shabaab, and the group would probably have collapsed handily – but for factors that I’ll be talking about later in this article.

This book, basically, is in two parts; the first set in Somalia (all three parts of it) and the second in the West, primarily in Britain and the US. I’ll discuss them separately.

Part I:

James Fergusson is a good author, and while reading his travels in Somalia – crouching along trenches interviewing AMISOM soldiers with Al Shabaab fighters just fifty metres away; driving through the Somaliland desert to a historic fort bombed by the British in 1920 to put down a nationalist rebellion; talking to politicians who gave up comfortable jobs in the west to come back and try and help the people as much as they could; trying to find pirates to interview – it’s easy to become so carried away by what he says, well-researched and presented as it is, that one fails to notice what he doesn’t say. For example, his silence over the US role in destabilising Somalia, and essentially destroying it, is almost total. He hardly even alludes to the Black Hawk Down episode, and any criticism of American actions he makes is muted to the point of being toothless. He’s quite willing to criticise his British compatriots, especially in Part II of his book; but his reluctance to confront the crimes of the United States borders on the farcical.

Let me emphasise something here: the United States is more responsible than anyone else for the situation in Somalia. First, it propped up the Siad Barre dictatorship during the period of its worst repression; then, it devastated what was left of Somalia during its “humanitarian” intervention in the early 1990s; and then, when Somalia was finally approaching something like a stable government in 2006, it had its puppet, the Ethiopian dictator Meles Zenawi (inexplicably spelt “Zeles Menawi” by Fergusson on the one instance he refers to this war criminal, on Page 81 of his book) invade and destroy the country all over again; something which the Somalis now call Burburki, “the destruction”.


Also, for a book which takes extreme pains to give the viewpoint of people on various sides of the conflict – from AMISOM officers to aid workers, from Somaliland politicians to Puntland warlords, and which describes the phenomenon of Somali piracy briefly but almost with sympathy – there is one glaring hole. There is nothing in it from the viewpoint of al Shabaab. We only get to see the organisation through the eyes of others, all of whom have it in their interest to paint it as black as possible.

This is not to say that al Shabaab are saints, of course. Their bloody record proves them to be anything but. Fergusson does say that unlike the Taliban, which always goes to great lengths to put out its viewpoint to the world, al Shabaab does no such thing, and it’s remarkably difficult to contact them. Even if that is true, some actual documented attempts to make such contact would have helped the book, especially since – unlike the conglomeration of disparate entities on one side – al Shabaab is one of just two villains on the other. (The only al Shabaab he talks to are members of a camp for defectors from the group, whose inmates are – according to Fergusson himself – so thoroughly infiltrated by al Shabaab agents that they don’t trust their own shadows anyway, so their testimonies are suspect.)

I’ll come to which the second villain is in a bit.

Fergusson does make some very valid points about al Shabaab, even given his one-sided point of view. He says that the movement was hardly a unified one; there were multiple factions, one of which, headed by Sheikh Mukhtar Robow, was much more moderate than that controlled by Ali Godane Zubeyr. Robow’s forces, in fact, had been known to protect aid convoys from Godane’s men, and the two nearly fought an internecine war over whether civilians should be given food aid in the midst of a famine.

The point of that division in the ranks – which Fergusson, regrettably, fails to discuss – is that if, instead of attacking al Shabaab as a unitary movement, the “other side” had engaged with Robow’s faction, they could have easily split the rebel ranks and ended the insurgency quickly. Instead, by attacking al Shabaab indiscriminately, they drove the insurgents together to make common cause against the enemy and caused it to metamorphose into a transnational insurgency – much like its ally Boko Haram in West Africa is in the process of doing.

There’s also the important factor of Somali Islam. Now, until very, very recently – till the 2000s, in fact – Islam in Somalia was more a notional quantity. The Somalis were – apart from a few who, Fergusson says, went to Yemen or Saudi Arabia to ‘better themselves’ – not interested in religion as a fact of daily life. The Islam they had was heavily influenced by the Barelvi Sufi tradition of South Asia, very akin to Hinduism, with its mysticism and reverence for saints. Even this Islam had been targeted by the old Siad Barre dictatorship, which had attempted but signally failed to erase it; instead, there had been a backlash, with women who had never before worn anything but Western clothes adopting the abaya and veil as a mark of their Muslim identity. But, even then, the religion stayed very muted in the lives of ordinary Somalis until the civil war destroyed society in the 90s and early 2000s.

Today, a different sort of Islam has taken root in all parts of Somalia, one influenced heavily by Saudi Wahhabism, though without its most extreme elements. Fergusson quotes extensively from Western-educated, liberal diaspora politicians and technocrats in Mogadishu and Hargeisa, people who might be assumed to be completely on the side of liberalism, who however make the point that Islam is now an indelible part of Somali identity, and some form of Sharia has to play a part in any durable political setup in future. Exactly how much, and what kind, of influence this has to play is what is up for debate; not the fact itself.

Al Shabaab, of course, has been neck-deep in its own version of Islam as well, one in which children in the areas it controlled were allegedly rewarded with AK series rifles and rocket propelled grenade launchers for excellence in Koran-recitation competitions. But, as I’ll discuss in a moment, the rest of Somalia dismisses the al Shabaab version of the religion as “not Islam”.

In Hargeisa, up in “independent” Somaliland, a city once bombed to knee-high rubble by Siad Barre, a council of Muslim Ulema now keeps order well enough that money changers can leave their boxes of cash on the pavement unattended without fear of theft. It’s hardly the only place this kind of thing has happened, and there is a reason.

All through Somalia, the civil war has devastated society. The modern state – with its constitution and legal system – collapsed with Siad Barre. The civil war, by killing and displacing adults in huge numbers, by putting guns in the hands of children, destroyed the traditional clan law, called xeer. What on earth was left except Islam? And, given that traditional Somali Islam hardly had any influence on anyone, what was left except Sharia?

It’s not, perhaps, an irrefutable agreement, but it’s a compelling one. The only alternative I can think of (it’s not something Fergusson suggests) would be recolonisation with the white man’s justice being reimposed until the (already failed) Siad Barre style state could be rebuilt from the ground up.

I just talked about clan law, xeer. Now, the other villain of the piece I’d mentioned is the clan nature of Somali society. Like tribalism in the rest of Africa, clannishness is the bane of Somalia. The clans had to find a way to coexist with each other, with mechanisms for redressal of grievances so that they didn’t tear each other to pieces. Xeer provided that mechanism. Once it vanished, the clans were set free to fight each against the rest, while inside each clan, the sub-clans fought each other, and no group – not even al Shabaab – was free of the old Somali proverb:

I against my brother
I and my brother against my family
I and my family against the clan
I and the clan against Somalia
I and Somalia against the world.


Part II:

The second part of the book, and one I found significantly more important, is set in the West, primarily among the Somali diaspora. Normally, I steer very clear of diaspora tales, especially since I know – from my own experience regarding my relatives living abroad – that the diaspora usually have little to no clue about what is actually going on in the “old country”. However, the vast majority of the Somali diaspora are actually extremely recent migrants, dating back to the civil war; and a significant part of the war continues abroad, in the form of a battle of ideas among the young.

And it is from among these young that al Shabaab draws many of its suicide bombers, who go off to blow themselves up in Somalia and elsewhere in East Africa.

Fergusson goes into some detail in his interactions with the members of the diaspora, in the UK and the US in particular. This diaspora, which – relative to the size of the “mother country” – is huge, is of growing importance as a “second Somalia” abroad, dispersed among the nations of the west, and elsewhere in Africa, too, primarily Kenya.

The diaspora is important in three respects. The first is the politicians it sends back, truly dedicated men (and a few women) who give up comfortable lives in France or Britain, the US or Norway, to try and bring a semblance of order to their native land. But they, too, suffer from two insuperable handicaps: first, they’re almost all of the older wave of emigrants, from the 1970s or even earlier, who had grown up in the Somalia before the civil war, and therefore completely out of touch with the local realities of today. The second handicap is the clan rivalries and corruption of today’s Somali society, which would make it virtually impossible to govern without imposing yet another crushing dictatorship. Most of them rapidly found themselves sidelined, rendered irrelevant, and forced to return to their jobs and lives in the west with nothing to show for their efforts.

The second respect is the money that the diaspora sends back to Somalia. After the destruction of the decades of war, virtually ceaseless from the 1980s to today, the economy of the country is almost at a standstill. Apart from livestock exports from Puntland and Somaliland to Saudi Arabia and Yemen, and the temporary boom of piracy, nothing is left of the nation in terms of economical prospects. The money sent back by the diaspora, primarily by hawala channels, is what keeps the country (barely) afloat. The diaspora has even pooled cash to ransom pirate captives; unlike a lot of other countries’ expatriates, they haven’t shaken the dust of the motherland from their shoes and never looked back again.

The third, and in terms of the book, most important, respect in which the diaspora is important is the young, who, as I said, comprise a very significant recruiting pool for al Shabaab. As I’ll point out, like several other jihadist groups, western intervention designed to “destroy” it has merely forced it out of its formerly restricted area of operations and made it a diffuse, but significantly more resilient, group. The illiterate child soldiers who were mowed down by AMISOM in the trenches of Mogadishu have been replaced by an entirely different breed of recruit; tech-savvy, educated young men with Western passports, who can provide significantly more “bang for the buck” where al Shabaab is concerned.

(I’ll resist the temptation to compare al Shabaab to the jihad gangs in Syria and Iraq, particularly ISIS, which has similarly gained recruits from educated Westerners, including converts; the parallels are tempting but not within the scope of discussion of a book whose timeline ends at the autumn of 2013.)

The young Somali diaspora, actually, are a quite fascinating mix of the modern and the traditional. Very few of the young, for example, have any patience for the clan structure which still rules many of their parents’ lives. A lot of them can hardly even speak Somali. Almost none of them chew qat, the addictive leaf whose use is endemic in Somalia and even more in Yemen, and which is banned almost universally in the West except for Britain. But at the same time, very few of them have any respect for the family or for xeer; educational success is rare among them, and they tend to congregate in ultra-violent gangs (so violent that in some areas they have forced out the white, South Asian and Jamaican gangs which formerly ruled the streets). In the absence of parental authority – especially since so many of them are from single-parent households, one parent having been killed in the Burburki or having stayed back in Somalia – they look for authority in the gangs. And a lot of them “find god” as a way out of their “lives of sin”, a process which not infrequently sends them right into the arms of al Shabaab recruiting agents.

Some of Fergusson’s interlocutors make a fascinating observation; the less knowledgeable one of these young people is about Islam, the more easily can he or she be radicalised. Those who have no idea what the Koran or Hadith actually says, and lack the motivation or education to find out for themselves, can be easily brainwashed by mullahs with an agenda. Fergusson talks about young Somali women who aren’t even aware that the Koran does not prescribe either the veil or female genital mutilation, both traditional practices long predating Islam; when a mullah pointed out that these weren’t obligatory under Islam, he was called an “infidel”.

{Contd ...}

[Pamuji Slamet · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pertama kali membaca karya James Fergusson adalah saat aku ingin tahu lebih jauh soal siapa sebetulnya Taliban, karena di Indonesia, Taliban ini terlalu banyak dikonotasikan dengan kelompok militan Islam yang kebanyakan bodoh, menjadi alat elit politik, dan diisi oleh orang-orang yang selalu siap turut serta dalam demonstrasi asalkan dibayar dengan nasi bungkus. Entah kenapa aku tak percaya dengan itu semua, karena bagaimana bisa orang-orang sekonyol itu menguasai satu negara? Setelah aku melakukan banyak pencarian soal buku apa yang layak kubaca, di antara sekian banyak buku soal Taliban, aku menemukan bahwa karya James Fergusson ini yang paling netral, simpatik, walau kadang terasa apologis. Maka dari titik itulah aku mulai mengenal sang penulis.

Buku kedua dari James Fergusson yang kubaca adalah buku soal Somalia ini. Ini adalah hal yang logis, bukan karena penulisnya, namun juga karena setelah Taliban, kekuatan militan Islam lain yang kuat salah satunya adalah Al-Shabaab (alias 'pemuda') yang memegang kendali sekian tahun di Somalia. Pertanyaan awalku juga sama dengan saat aku memilih membaca buku Taliban, yaitu, siapa sebenarnya para militan muslim ini? Apakah benar informasi-informasi yang selalu simpang siur diberitakan di media-media besar global–aku bilang media besar global, karena Al-Shabaab tidak banyak dibahas di media Indonesia. Paling banter di sini yang dibahas soal Somalia adalah aktivitas bajak lautnya di Teluk Aden. Pasalnya, lagi-lagi, aku tak dapat percaya begitu saja dengan media-media tersebut, sehubungan dengan keberpihakan secara ekonomi-politik mereka.

James Fergusson tidak mengecewakanku sebagaimana bukunya yang kubaca sebelum ini. Ia tidak melulu langsung membahas pokok persoalannya, melainkan mengambil jalan memutar demi membawa pembaca pada konteks yang tepat. Ia memaparkan sejarah singkat, kondisi sosial ekonomi yang membawa semuanya pada situasi dan kondisi kontemporer di Somalia. Ia juga memaparkan dengan jelas dan mudah dipahami, soal bagaimana semua variabel yang ia paparkan sebelumnya, membangun kelompok yang menamakan diri Al-Shabaab ini. Melalui wawancara-wawancara dengan beberapa tokoh kunci baik dari pihak poros Amerika Serikat, tentara bayaran, para pimpinan negara Somalia, tokoh-tokoh gerakan, baik yang masih aktif di daratan Somalia ataupun juga yang menjadi eksil di Eropa.

Lebih menariknya lagi, Fergusson menelusuri jalur-jalur tak nampak yang membawanya pada komunitas Somalian di Inggris dan Amerika Serikat, yang memperlihatkan bahwa dalam kondisi dunia yang mengglobal ini, satu kasus yang tampaknya terkungkung dalam batas negara Somalia, ternyata membawa dampak aktif dengan negara-negara lain di luar Somalia sendiri. Ia kisahkan bagaimana para pelaku bom bunuh diri bagi Al-Shabaab ternyata banyak direkrut dari luar Somalia, termasuk di antaranya anak-anak muda berdarah Somalia yang tinggal, bersekolah, di Amerika Serikat dan Inggris.

Buku ini ditutup dengan bab di mana pada akhirnya kota terakhir yang dikuasai Al-Shabaab jatuh ke tangan pasukan milisi yang disponsori oleh Kenya, setelah kelompok militan tersebut sekian lama dirongrong oleh kekuatan militer–atau proksinya–Ethiopia, para tentara bayaran pemerintah Somalia, dan pasukan internasional. James Fergusson memang membiarkan akhir buku tetap sebagai kisah nyata buku terbuka, karena pada faktanya memang Somalia masih belum selesai kisahnya. Akhir dari Al-Shabaab sebenarnya bukanlah sebuah akhir, melainkan sekadar sebuah fase dalam perjalanan Somalia yang panjang sebagai sebuah negara, bangsa, atau kumpulan suku-suku dan klan yang saling berseteru. Akankah Somalia pada akhirnya membangun satu negeri yang menaungi puluhan dan klan di sana? Entahlah, tapi setidaknya, satu babak gelap di mana Al-Shabaab berkuasa, sudah berakhir.

[Colton Brydges · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a current affairs books that dates back to 2012, so naturally it is dated. It's title is sensationalist, but probably accurate given that Somalia in 2011/12 was grappling with al-Shabaab, piracy, a devastating famine, and a central government that didn't even control Mogadishu. This was probably among the darkest periods in Somali history.

The book is well researched and definitely an interesting read. I just can't shake the sense of Orientalism in the author's writing. He makes sweeping generalizations about Somali culture and backs them up with colonial era writings from Richard Burton. He makes vaguely racist comments about how dark skinned Somali people are.

Fergusson takes us to Mogadishu, Puntland, Hargeisa and Nairobi, and this provides a unique insight into the country at this time. He also visits diaspora communities in Minneapolis and London. The diaspora section is probably the most insightful and shows the greatest critical reflection on the challenges facing Somali youth abroad, from generational differences to overpolicing. But the author repeatedly falls into that habit of describing Somalia and its people as a "problem" in need of solving. His analysis of the root causes of Somalia's issues often boils down to critiques of culture or religion that are overly simplistic.

As a travelogue in war affected Somalia, this is a great book. As a deep dive into the country's history, not so much. A worthy read if you're prepared to take a critical look at it

[Dan · Rating 5 out of 5]

War, poverty, corruption, terrorism, drought and every other known plaque to befall on the human race has hit Somalia. This is a very well written, engaging and sometimes humorous look at the people who inhabit the horn of Africa and have migrated across the world. 99% of the population fights against terrorism and are trying to make it so Somali can enter the 21st Century, but a history of in-fighting amongst clans, interference from the outside world and their own disfunction to govern creates a very sad history for the people who every day are doing what they can to survive. Not a glowing report, an over-romanticized narrative or totally pessimistic myopic view of the people and country, but a sobering assessment of what they are facing.

[Niklas · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sotareportterin todella tarkkanäköinen kuvaus Somalian sisällissodasta ja al-Shahaabin terrorikoneistosta. Kirjassa käydään Somaliassa ja tutustutaan sen lukemattomiin eri faktioihin, mutta katsotaan tarkemmin myös länsimaissa asuvien somalien elämää. Kirjan esseiden tekemät linkit nuorisorikollisuuden, heimoaatteen, huumesalakuljetuksen ja jihadismin välillä ovat todella valaisevia. Itse ymmärsin ensimmäistä kertaa kunnolla mistä al-Qaidan ja al-Shahaabin-tyylisissä ääriliikkeissä lopulta on kyse, ja miten Somalian sisällissota on voinut jatkua jo yli 20 vuotta. Tästä saa paljon myös aineksia omaan Miranda-roolipelikampanjaan, joskin aiheet voivat toisinaan olla aivan liian synkeitä pelin kuluessa käsiteltäviksi...

[Dale Raad · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting book that was, considering it's sensationalized title, surprisingly thorough with it's exploration of all the many facets of the problems of Somalia, focusing a lot on the people and the many layered nuances that contribute to why and how a society can end up with as many problems as Somalia. The most powerful parts were the retelling of first hand account stories by some of the Somalians the author encountered. I give it a three stars because in some parts of the book it become a bit too methodical with it's detailed retelling of the author's own experiences in trying to do his research.

[Siobhan Markwell · Rating 3 out of 5]

At times the book veers towards a slightly condescending Eurocentric view of Somalia. It could do with a bit more depth in terms of the inner views of the protagonists rather than the "hands in the air" shock of the western spectator but there's still a lot that rings true about the Somali situation both in the west and abroad. The final parts of the book are more even handed and Fergusson definitely succeeds in alerting us to the threat that global inequality and lack of economic development and political stability holds for us all.

[Marko Porenta · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Martyrs for Islam, famously, are rewarded with the attentions of seventy-two virgins when they reach heaven. In Somalia, al-Shabaab's mentors were said to have shown their pupils Bollywood DVD's, and told their young charges that they were watching footage shot by militants who had already blown themselves up and gone to Paradise."

[Miroslav · Rating 3 out of 5]

Cesta po Somálsku a rozhovory s miestnymi v priebehu niekoľkých mesiacov roka 2011, kedy vrcholili boje s al-Shabaab (somálsky islamský štát). Trošku som čakal, že sa dozviem viac z histórie, no až na niekoľko flashbackov (vďaka za ne) sa kniha venuje vtedajšej súčasnosti... Napriek tomu som sa dozvedel aspoň o 100% viac, ako som o Somálsku vedel... a toho nebolo veľa...

[Jennifer Pletcher · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a pretty good book. I am always up for a good non-fiction. It is quite detailed, and I learned quite a bit about Somalia. It was hard to follow at times, but if you take your time, this is a worthwhile read.

[Gareth Whalley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some interesting insight but it feels like it was written for Telegraph readers to have something to discuss at a dinner party. At times paternalistic, includes odd and unnecessarily sexualised descriptions of women

[The Book · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really enjoyed reading this; I learned so much about a country I'd heard of but couldn't pinpoint on a map (I'd probably have said Ethiopia was Somalia, but now I know!).

I don't want to lose all the stuff I learned so here are some key things:

- the media age in Somalia is just 18
- there was an epic civil war, which I don't remember (I did look up some photos on the Economist's website - suitably horrifying and brought to life some of what the author said in this book) which has resulted in no central government in Somalia for around 2 decades.
- clanism is a big deal in Somalia; there are 5 main clans, and Somalians tend to be heavily biased towards their own clans (eg, in a local government, the leader tends to appoint the majority of his cabinet from members of his clan).
- the flag of Somalia is a white five pointed star on a blue background, selected because the 5 points of the star represent the 5 major clans.
- there seems to be an increasing feeling among Somalians that clanism is a key cause of conflict, particularly among younger Somalis, and some are moving against clanism.
- There's a major terrorist group called Al-Shabaab, meaning 'the youth' in Arabic, which is rooted in Somalia and had strong links to Al Qaida. As the country is literally war-torn, nobody can get anything they want - security, a job, money, a stable future, a home, etc, without it all being ripped from under them at any time. So Al Shabaab targets the angry, disaffected young men, who turn to religion as the one stable and consistent thing in their lives and are effectively brainwashed by Al Shabaab into becoming suicide bombers or militant Islamists who use 'Islam' as an excuse to do whatever the hell they like.
- what I read and the photos I saw scared me; Somalis brought up in war-torn Somalia are surrounded by violence and killing and ruthlessness and as a result have no sense of empathy and do not value human life. Thus, some of them perpatrate crazy shit like aimless killings or raping or whatever.
- Al Shabaab is so unreasonable and against anyone who isn't them (or maybe just Americ and the West, or non-Muslims), when a major famine hit Somalia, they denied it was happening, refused foreign food aid, and when desperate starving people tried to migrate from Al Shabaab-controlled areas to places where they could receive food aid to save their lives, Al Shabaab shot them.

In the UK:
- qat chewing is legal - we're the only country in the Western world where it's still legalised
- many Somalis seem to feel it shouldn't be legal. Qat is a drug and at the risk of over-simplifying things, chewing dens take men away from their families and leave their sons without role models (unless the men were killed in Somalia and the families had to flee without a father figure anyway) which could contribute to the rise of Somali street gangs and the problem of Somalis not integrating
into British society
- I didn't know about street gangs much before, but I'm not keen on going to Southall at all...apparently Somali youth offenders can have little respect for good behaviour and there may be a higher proportion of Somalis in youth institutions than any other ethnic minorities
- there's likely a 'Somali crime time bomb' in Britain, which I had no idea about. Militant young men angry about non-Muslims or whatever, brainwashed in some cases by Al Shabaab who can entice young men to leave the UK and head back to Somalia as suicide bombers or fighters. Scary.
- but, not everything is bad. there are young Somalis who do want to integrate and who do become successful and well educated and aren't violent etc.

So that's a lot of jumbled thoughts; how do I feel about Somalia now? I feel like I always had this view that there was a prescribed way to sort things out, but there isn't. I assume all people can be reasonable and rational and think like me, but they can't. They need education and to be able to survive. How would I feel if I couldn't make a living in my own country and I had to do anything to survive? I couldn't fish in my own waters because I'd be fined by a country overseas, so maybe I'd be forced into piratism - what else could I do? But also, there's the lure of Islam and some very persuasive people offering power and money and a place in paradise with virgins, and I feel wronged by the world already and I've got a limited paradigm because of my culture and my country and all the things I'm denied thanks to the civil war...of course I'd be confused and angry and wanting to do something. I don't know how I feel; I do still think that people who come to the UK need to make an effort to integrate and behave according to our societal norms, and if they don't, they can f*ck off back to where they came from. But then there's the culpability aspect of it - not to mention to potential ramifications. How much of their behaviour is their fault and how much is a product of their environment at home or in Somalia, etc? And can you ship young people back off to Somalia when it means they'll likely be killed or could turn into people who harm our or other Western countries in bigger ways? Very tricky.

[Kelly · Rating 3 out of 5]

Complicated situation makes for complicated story. Understand a little more about Somalia but still need more reading.