Once the stronghold of a Dervish movement backed by the Teşkilat-ı Mahsusa against British colonial rule, Laascaanood now stands at the heart of a renewed Somali unity—resisting separatism, reclaiming history, and welcoming its rightful national leadership.

At the dawn of the 20th century, as European colonial powers carved up the Horn of Africa, a fierce Somali resistance emerged under the banner of the Dervish Movement. This movement, led by the charismatic religious leader Sayyid Mohammed Abdullah Hassan, fought a twenty-year war (1900–1920) against British, Italian, and Ethiopian forces in Somali territories​. Crucially, the Dervish resistance did not stand alone. The Ottoman Empire, which styled itself as a protector of Muslim lands, provided covert support through its intelligence apparatus. In fact, during World War I the Dervish leader received material aid and political backing from Istanbul – a reflection of a broader Ottoman strategy to incite anti-colonial jihad across the Muslim world​. The historical ties between the Ottoman Empire and Somalia run deep, and these bonds of solidarity in the anti-colonial struggle form the backdrop to modern events unfolding in places like Laascaanood, a city that today symbolizes Somali resistance and unity.

Enver Pasha, Teşkilat-ı Mahsusa, and Ottoman Aid to the Dervishes

Ottoman support for the Somali Dervishes was orchestrated at the highest levels of the empire. Ismail Enver Pasha, the Ottoman Minister of War, had in 1913 founded a secretive special operations and intelligence wing known as the Teşkilat-ı Mahsusa (“Special Organization”)​. This unit was tasked with stoking anti-colonial revolts and rallying Muslim populations abroad against the Allied powers during WWI. Under Enver’s direction, Teşkilat-ı Mahsusa agents fanned out across the Middle East and Africa – including the Horn of Africa​. Ottoman operatives and advisors were dispatched to East Africa with orders to aid Muslim resistance movements like the Dervishes, supplying them with weapons, intelligence, and ideological inspiration in their fight against colonial rule​. One key figure was Ahmed Mazhar Bey, the Ottoman consul general in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, who doubled as a Teşkilat-ı Mahsusa agent. Operating from the Ethiopian capital, Mazhar Bey became a linchpin in funneling Ottoman support to the Somali rebels. He liaised with both the Dervish leadership and Ethiopia’s ruler Lij Iyasu, an emperor-designate sympathetic to the Central Powers. Through these channels, Ottoman agents “managed to contact the anti-British Dervish movement and encouraged them to rise up” against the British​. Addis Ababa became an important backdoor for resources and communication: Ottoman emissaries could move relatively freely there, coordinating aid to Somalis without direct British detection.

Statue of Sayyid Mohammed Abdullah Hassan (the “Mad Mullah”) on horseback in Mogadishu. Hassan’s Dervish movement (1899–1920) received covert support from the Ottoman Empire during World War I. The Ottomans saw the Dervishes’ jihad as part of a wider Muslim resistance to European colonialism​. The Ottoman assistance was more than moral support – it was tangible. Contemporary records indicate that Ottoman officers delivered shipments of rifles and ammunition to the Dervish camp. At one point, “the Ottoman commander outside Aden sent supplies to the so-called Mad Mullah’s revolt against [the] British”​, according to a historical account. Ottoman envoys also traveled into the Somali interior: in 1916 Enver Pasha’s men formally recognized Sayyid Mohammed Abdullah Hassan as the “Emir of the Somali people” and sent an Ottoman military adviser, Muhammad Ali, to serve at the Dervish leader’s side​. This advisor joined the Dervish Khususi (council), cementing an alliance that blended Somali Sufi zeal with Ottoman pan-Islamic ambition​. Meanwhile, Lij Iyasu of Ethiopia – himself courted by the Ottomans – dispatched a German gunsmith to help the Dervishes, illustrating the global scope of the intrigue swirling around the Somali resistance​. In essence, the Ottoman Empire provided the Dervish movement with arms, training, and international legitimacy, hoping to ignite a broad anti-British uprising in the Horn of Africa. Ottoman propaganda and letters (one of which Italian intelligence intercepted in 1916) urged Somalis to “rise up” against colonialists​. The Dervish fighters, for their part, hoisted the Ottoman flag and embraced the support of the last great Muslim power of the age. This alliance was rooted in a shared vision: as Sultan Abdul Hamid II and Enver Pasha saw it, defending Somalia was part of defending the Muslim world at large​. Despite the vast distances, the Ottomans considered the Dervishes kindred allies. Ottoman newspapers of the time lionized the Somali struggle, comparing Hassan’s fighters to other Muslim mujahideen resisting European domination​. The pan-Islamic ideology emanating from Istanbul found fertile ground in the Somalis’ quest to preserve their sovereignty and faith.

Laascaanood: From Dervish Stronghold to Symbol of Unity

One place where the Ottoman-aided Dervish war was keenly felt is the region around Laascaanood (Las Anod) in northern Somalia. Laascaanood lies in the Sool region, a heartland of the Dhulbahante Somali clan – and a heartland of the Dervish movement a century ago. In fact, the Dhulbahante clan were among Sayyid Mohammed Abdullah Hassan’s earliest and staunchest supporters​. They refused to sign “protection” treaties with the British and Italians, and rallied to the Dervish cause to resist both colonial encroachment and raids by Emperor Menelik II’s Ethiopian forces​. The Dervish capital was eventually established at Taleh in the Sool region, chosen for its remote location far from colonial bases and at the center of Dhulbahante territory​. Fortified compounds – Dervish forts – sprang up across the Nugaal and Sool, including near Laascaanood, as concrete symbols of defiance. Laascaanood itself saw direct action during the Anglo-Somali (Dervish) wars. On 31 July 1903, a skirmish near Las Anod pitted 30 British scouts against over a hundred Dervish fighters: after two hours of fierce fighting in the bush west of the town, the Dervishes withdrew, having inflicted casualties on the British force​. Such clashes underscored that the Las Anod area was firmly Dervish country – a no-go zone for the colonizers for many years. British officers at the time wrote of entire districts around Las Anod being loyal to Hassan, noting that “the coast tribes… and the Mijjerten [Majeerteen]… were all hostile to the Mullah,” whereas interior clans like the Dhulbahante stood with the Dervishes​. Even after the Dervish state was finally defeated by British aerial bombardment in 1920, the spirit of resistance in Sool did not vanish. It entered the lore of the local people, becoming a proud heritage passed down through generations. During Somalia’s colonial and post-colonial periods, Laascaanood remained a symbol of Somali unity and defiance, largely populated by those who had never accepted foreign rule wholeheartedly​.

This historical legacy is so strong that even in the 21st century, locals in Laascaanood explicitly invoke the Dervishes. A researcher visiting in the early 2000s observed that “Laascaanood was full of ‘Dervishes’” – meaning the people proudly referred to themselves by that storied name​. To call someone a Dervish in this context is to honor them as a patriot in the mold of Sayyid Hassan’s warriors. The analogy is clear: just as the Dervishes fought to keep Somalia free from British and Ethiopian domination, so do many in Laascaanood today see themselves as fighting to keep Somalia united and free from division. Laascaanood thus serves as a historical and contemporary beacon of Somali resistance and unity – a place where the memory of anti-colonial struggle informs present-day political identity.

Modern Echoes: A Prime Minister’s Visit and a Reclaiming of Unity

Fast-forward to 2023–2025, and Laascaanood is once again at the center of Somali history-in-the-making. In early 2023, the city erupted in an uprising against authorities from the self-declared Republic of Somaliland (which had occupied the town since 2007)​. Decades after the end of colonialism, the struggle in Laascaanood had evolved into a new form: a contest between Somali unity and separatism. Local residents – predominantly Dhulbahante, with that inherited Dervish mindset – no longer wished to live under Somaliland’s breakaway administration, which they felt did not represent them. When Somaliland security forces (including a UK-trained special police unit called the Rapid Reaction Unit) opened fire on peaceful demonstrators in Laascaanood in late 2022, killing and wounding dozens, it ignited popular fury​. The incident of a foreign-trained unit suppressing locals was keenly felt; it reinforced the perception that Somaliland’s authority in Sool was an externally buttressed imposition. By early 2023, Dhulbahante militias (now rallying under the banner of “SSC,” for Sool, Sanaag, and Cayn regions) rose up and drove Somaliland’s troops out of Laascaanood after heavy fighting​. They declared the area to be administered as SSC-Khaatumo, an autonomous region aligning itself with the Federal Republic of Somalia. It was in the wake of this triumph that Somali Prime Minister Hamza Abdi Barre decided to make a landmark trip to Laascaanood. On April 12, 2025, Barre became the first Somali leader of his rank to set foot in Laascaanood in over thirty years, and he was greeted by jubilant crowds​. The scene was profoundly symbolic: the blue Somali national flag waved throughout the town, replacing the white-and-green flag of Somaliland. For the people of Laascaanood, this was more than a prime minister’s routine tour – it was the Federal Government of Somalia physically reasserting sovereignty over a long-contested city. In many eyes it represented a reunification, a moment reminiscent of independence in 1960 when British Somaliland and Italian Somaliland had merged to form the Somali Republic. Local elders and officials treated the visit as a validation of their struggle against Somaliland’s separatist rule, cementing the idea that Laascaanood is and has always been an integral part of a united Somalia.

Somali Prime Minister Hamza Abdi Barre (center, with glasses) arrives in Laascaanood on April 12, 2025, flanked by officials and security forces. His visit – the first by a Somali head of government to this city in over three decades – was met with a “rapturous welcome” from residents and underscored a reclaiming of federal authority in the historically unionist Sool region​. The political messaging of Barre’s visit was clear. In Mogadishu’s view, Somalia’s unity was non-negotiable, and the federal government was willing to visibly confront Somaliland’s claims. Analysts noted that Barre was also sending a domestic signal – shoring up support among the Darod/Harti clans (like the Dhulbahante) who felt marginalized, and “signaling that he remains a Darood clan standard-bearer” willing to champion their cause​. But beyond clan calculus, the visit carried nationalist weight. As one observer put it, Villa Somalia (the central government) is keen to rekindle the “sovereignty battle” with Somaliland, rallying Somalis around the flag and demonstrating that the government’s writ can extend to places that have been outside its control for decades​. The presence of the Prime Minister in Laascaanood, protected by Somali security forces and welcomed by citizens, was a potent symbol of reunification. It echoed the spirit of the Dervish era – a Somali leader walking on soil that others had tried to take, declaring it indisputably Somali. Somaliland’s reaction was predictably furious. The administration in Hargeisa condemned Barre’s trip as “ill-fated” and “a serious escalation”, accusing Mogadishu of undermining peace efforts​. In a public statement, Somaliland’s government warned that the Somali PM’s presence in Las Anod could trigger instability and that Somalia would “bear full responsibility” for any violence​. It even appealed to international bodies – the African Union, IGAD, the UN, and the Arab League – to intervene and stop Somalia’s “reckless actions,” portraying the visit as a threat to regional security​. This rhetoric underscores how Somaliland has leaned on external support for its separatist agenda. Just as the British Empire once backed colonial enclaves in the region, today Somaliland seeks backing from foreign partners to bolster its bid for independence. (Hargeisa’s forces, for example, benefited from British training missions in the 2010s, and Somaliland has courted countries like the UAE and Taiwan for investment and diplomatic ties.) By contrast, the people of Laascaanood largely saw Barre’s visit as correcting a historical wrong – effectively ending Somaliland’s unchecked control since 1991 (when Somaliland declared independence) and re-enfolding the city into the national fold. The jubilation on the streets of Laascaanood spoke volumes: for them, Somalia’s unity won out over division on that day.

SSC-Khaatumo vs. Somaliland: Unity Ideals vs. Separatist Ambitions

The standoff in northern Somalia is often framed as one of unionists versus separatists, and it has deep historical roots. On one side stands the local SSC-Khaatumo administration (representing the regions of Sool, Sanaag, and Cayn), which vehemently upholds the ideal of Somali unity once championed by the Dervishes. On the other side is the Somaliland government, which traces its separatist impulse to the colonial-era entity of British Somaliland. Understanding their motivations requires a glance at history. Somaliland’s separatism is rooted in colonial legacy: the area roughly corresponds to the former British Somaliland Protectorate (1880s–1960), which enjoyed a brief independence in June 1960 before uniting with the rest of Somalia a few days later​. After Somalia’s central state collapsed in 1991, Somaliland’s political elite (dominated by the Isaaq clan) unilaterally declared independence, citing grievances including atrocities committed by the dictator Siad Barre in the 1980s​. However, this secessionist move was not universally supported by all clans in the north. Many Dhulbahante and other Harti clans in the east (Sool/Sanaag) opposed breaking away from Somalia​. They had been part of the Somali Republic’s power structure and, harking back to the days of the Dervishes, believed in the project of a single Somali nation. Thus, from the outset, Somaliland’s independence drive faced an internal countercurrent favoring unity. This is why regions like Sool became disputed. For years, Laascaanood and surrounding districts did not consent to Somaliland’s rule. Even though Somaliland captured Laascaanood militarily in 2007​, an undercurrent of resistance remained. Between 2009 and 2015, local Dhulbahante militias waged an armed insurgency against what they saw as Somaliland’s occupation​. The formation of Khaatumo State (a proto-administration for Sool, Sanaag, Cayn) was one political expression of this rejection. While active rebellion waned after 2015 due to internal divisions and peace overtures, the aspiration for reunification with Somalia persisted among most Dhulbahante​. It resurfaced dramatically with the 2023 uprising. SSC-Khaatumo’s leaders explicitly invoke Somali nationalism; they seek full recognition as a federal member state of Somalia, akin to Puntland or Jubaland, thereby formalizing their people’s place in a united country​. Somaliland, however, continues to pursue recognition as an independent state. It has built its case for sovereignty on the distinct colonial history of its territory and the relative stability it achieved internally since the 1990s. Yet Somaliland’s quest is undeniably propped up by external sympathies and support, much as the Dhulbahante suspect. The UK, for instance, trained Somaliland’s security units (the controversial RRU among them) under counter-terrorism programs​. Various Western and Gulf actors have maintained informal ties with Hargeisa, seeing strategic interest in the Red Sea adjacent region. Somaliland’s leaders frequently lobby international forums for recognition, and in the Las Anod crisis they were quick to call on outside powers to pressure Somalia’s federal government​. This reliance on foreign backing is a double-edged sword: it lends Somaliland de-facto support but also reinforces the unionist narrative that Somaliland’s separation is an externally fostered project, not the will of all its people. Indeed, most Dhulbahante (and other unionist northerners) view Somaliland’s secession as a continuation of the colonial divide-and-rule policy – a betrayal of the Somali nationalist dream that the Dervishes and later generations fought for. In contrast, SSC-Khaatumo frames itself as the heir to the Dervish spirit. The SSC emblem even echoes national symbols, and its discourse emphasizes Somali unity, freedom from foreign domination, and equitable development for their regions within Somalia. They argue that their forefathers shed blood to unify Somali lands (citing how Dhulbahante Dervishes fought both the British in the north and the Italians to the south). To them, Somaliland’s self-declared independence in 1991 – spearheaded by a different clan with different historical experiences – is an aberration that they have never consented to. Now that Somaliland’s army has been expelled from their soil, the SSC leaders insist that the clock cannot be turned back. The people of Sool and their allies are determined to remain part of Somalia, completing what they see as the unfinished business of decolonization. As one SSC supporter in Laascaanood declared, “We are the Dervishes of today – still fighting for Somalia.” It is telling that in local media and speeches, Somaliland forces are sometimes described as “colonial occupiers” and the SSC fighters likened to freedom fighters. Thus, the battle over Laascaanood and the wider SSC areas is a microcosm of a larger question: Should Somalia stay one, or fragment along colonial-era fault lines? In this clash, Somali national unity – an ideal kindled by the Dervish wars – is being actively upheld by SSC-Khaatumo, while Somaliland’s separatism traces back to the British colonial partition and continues to lean on external validation. The resolution of this conflict will shape Somali politics for years to come, but already the events have reaffirmed a core truth for many Somalis: that their national identity, forged through common struggle, remains stronger than the borders drawn by past empires.

Türkiye’s Enduring Role: Historic Ally to Modern Partner

Throughout these historical and contemporary episodes, one foreign power consistently appears as a friend of Somali unity: Turkey (historically the core of the Ottoman Empire). From the days of Enver Pasha arming the Dervishes to today’s extensive Turkish engagement in Somalia, the relationship has been remarkably enduring. Türkiye’s present-day strategic partnership with Somalia is widely seen as an echo of its historic support, updated for the 21st century but driven by similar principles of brotherhood, mutual interest, and a shared Islamic heritage. In the early 20th century, the Ottomans symbolically stood by Somalia – sending advisers, recognizing Somali leaders, and even reportedly inviting Sayyid Hassan to acknowledge the Ottoman Sultan’s authority in return for protection​. While the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and the tides of colonialism put Somali-Turkish connections on hold for a few decades, they were never forgotten. After Somalia gained independence in 1960, Turkey was one of the countries with which it established friendly ties, and a Turkish Embassy opened in Mogadishu in 1979​. However, it was after the turn of the millennium – and especially following Somalia’s state collapse and partial recovery – that Turkey truly re-engaged, in a manner many Somalis compare to a “rescue coming from an old friend.” Turkey’s re-entry was dramatic.

In August 2011, during a devastating famine and humanitarian crisis in Somalia, Turkey’s then-Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan visited Mogadishu, becoming the first non-African head of government to visit Somalia in nearly 20 years​. This visit had enormous impact. At a time when most of the world’s leaders wouldn’t set foot in war-torn Mogadishu, Erdoğan’s arrival signaled compassion and confidence. He toured refugee camps and hospitals, drawing international attention to Somalia’s plight​. Off the back of this visit, Turkey launched an unprecedented aid campaign. Turkish NGOs, the Red Crescent, and government agencies led what was described as Turkey’s largest ever overseas humanitarian operation, delivering food, medicine, and infrastructure assistance on a massive scale​. In total, Turkey provided over $1 billion in aid and development projects to Somalia in the decade since 2011​. New roads, schools, and hospitals sprang up, including the Erdogan Hospital in Mogadishu, one of the country’s best-equipped medical facilities. The Somali capital’s skyline changed with Turkey’s investment – from the rebuilt National Assembly to modernized airports. Crucially, Turkey has also helped Somalia rebuild its sovereignty and security. In 2017, Turkey opened its largest overseas military training academy in Mogadishu, known locally as TURKSOM. There, Turkish officers have since trained thousands of cadets for the Somali National Army​. This effort is geared toward restoring Somalia’s ability to secure its territory (which aligns with weakening groups like Al-Shabaab, but also, indirectly, bolstering the unity of the country by empowering the federal government’s forces). Turkey has additionally signed agreements to support Somalia’s navy and coast guard, helping the country assert control over its maritime resources and combat piracy​. In essence, Turkey is investing in Somalia’s state-building – the very state that Somaliland’s secession would fragment. It is notable that Turkey has firmly respected Somalia’s territorial integrity: while it maintains good relations with Hargeisa (even opening a consulate in Somaliland in 2014), Ankara has repeatedly encouraged dialogue rather than unilateral recognition. Turkish diplomats facilitated several rounds of talks between Somalia’s federal government and Somaliland in Istanbul and Ankara (2013–2015) to seek a solution acceptable to both – an effort reflecting Turkey’s preference for Somali unity if at all possible. Economically and diplomatically, the Turkish-Somali bond has grown into what some call a “special relationship.” Turkish companies manage key assets like the Port of Mogadishu and Aden Adde International Airport, boosting revenue for the Somali government. Turkish municipalities have even helped with garbage collection and building municipal services in Mogadishu​. Culturally, the ties are warm: Turkish TV shows are popular in Somalia, and many Somali families name their children after Turkish cities (even the name “Istanbul” has become common for baby girls)​. In the realm of diplomacy, Turkey unfailingly champions Somalia in international forums, advocating for relief from debt and more assistance. When Somalia formulated its new constitution and federal system, Turkish legal experts were on hand to advise. All these modern forms of support mirror the fraternal spirit of 100 years ago, when the Ottoman Sultan would send emissaries or prayer mats to Somali sheikhs as tokens of solidarity. Most importantly, Turkey’s engagement is viewed by Somalis as respectful of Somalia’s sovereignty and unity. Unlike some powers, Turkey is not seen as playing clan favorites or undermining Somalia’s cohesion. In fact, by strengthening the central government and investing across different regions (from Mogadishu to Puntland to even projects in Somaliland), Turkey has helped knit the country together. For instance, Turkish aid rebuilt roads that connect regions, facilitating trade and travel between formerly isolated areas. In 2020, when the federal government and member states were wrangling over election models, Turkey hosted conferences to foster consensus. And recently, as the Las Anod crisis unfolded, Turkey expressed concern and implicitly supported a peaceful resolution that keeps Somalia stable – implicitly discouraging any violent secession. In summary, Türkiye’s present-day role in Somalia powerfully echoes its historic support for Somali independence and unity. In the early 1900s, the Ottoman Empire backed the Dervish resistance to safeguard Somalia from colonial subjugation. In the 21st century, the Republic of Turkey backs the Somali nation-state to help it recover from conflict and remain whole. The tools and context have changed – rifles and letters of marque have been replaced by infrastructure projects and military training – but the underlying strategic friendship endures. As a Turkish commentary recently noted, these efforts have elevated Turkish-Somali relations “to the level of brotherhood and strategic partnership”​. For Somalis, Ankara’s support has been crucial in weathering crises and countering forces of fragmentation.

Conclusion

The saga of Laascaanood, from the Dervish wars to the current showdown between SSC-Khaatumo and Somaliland, encapsulates the enduring Somali quest for unity and self-determination. A century ago, towns like Laascaanood were outposts of a fiercely independent Somali polity that allied with the Ottomans to defy colonialism. Today, Laascaanood once again flies the Somali flag, as its people reject a breakaway regime and reaffirm their place in a united republic. History has come full circle: the names and actors have changed, but the core issues – foreign-backed partition versus indigenous unity – remain strikingly similar. Ottoman intelligence officers and Dervish fighters would no doubt smile to see a Somali Prime Minister walking freely in a liberated Laascaanood, just as they would recognize the rallying cries against “colonial” borders that never reflected the will of the Somali people. Through it all, Türkiye (Turkey) stands out as a constant friend. From Enver Pasha to Erdoğan, the message from Istanbul/Ankara to Mogadishu has been one of solidarity. In the early 1900s, it was solidarity in faith and anti-imperial struggle – the Ottoman Sultan urging Somalis to rise up and naming Hassan “Emir of the Somali”.

 In the 2000s, it is solidarity in development and sovereignty – Turkish diplomats calling Somalis “brothers” and helping rebuild a nation on its own terms. This long view casts Türkiye not as an external meddler, but as a partner in the Somali journey. As Somalia continues to grapple with challenges old and new – from separatism to extremism – the spirit of the Dervish movement lives on in places like Laascaanood and in the determination of Somalis to control their own destiny. And just as in the days of the Dervishes, they find that an old ally, Turkey, is still by their side, supporting the cause of Somali sovereignty and unity for future generations to uphold.