The First Defectors: How Somalia Broke Al-Shabaab’s Aura of Invincibility
When I returned to Mogadishu in June 2009, the city was a battlefield. The Transitional Federal Government (TFG), led by President Sheikh Sharif Ahmed, clung to survival, controlling only a third of the capital. Six districts were fully under government control, and parts of a few others. The rest of Mogadishu was in the hands of terror groups: Al-Shabaab and Hizbul Islam.
Both groups sought to destroy the state. Hizbul Islam, a coalition of Islamist factions, would eventually be defeated and absorbed into Al-Shabaab, but in 2009 it was still a powerful force. For ordinary Mogadishu residents, daily life was defined by shifting frontlines, mortars, and an ever-present fear of violence.
My first assignment was as a liaison between the TFG and AMISOM, the African Union mission that shielded what little governance remained. Without AMISOM’s protection, the government would not have lasted a week. Their troops defended the presidential compound, the airport, seaport, and other strategic points. Inside this fragile bubble, Somalia’s leaders tried to imagine how to rebuild a state while the war raged literally outside of their offices.
It was here that I began to work closely with Mohamed Sheikh Hamoud, Director General of the National Security Agency. At first, I worked with him as an advisor — drafting documents, helping him in meetings, learning the rhythms of intelligence work. Within a year, he appointed me External Director. But even before that, I was thrust into one of the most surprising and formative experiences of my career: the first wave of defections.
A Man Called “Pakistani”
In September 2009, I received my first defector. His name was Mohamed Abdullahi, better known as “Pakistani.” A police officer, his relative, quietly tipped me off that Mohamed was preparing to leave Al-Shabaab. When the moment came, I personally took him into custody, placing him under guard at Weheliye Hotel in central Mogadishu while Al-Shabaab was one block away as their first frontline defence.
Pakistani was no ordinary fighter. He had been head of Da’wah — Al-Shabaab’s propaganda and outreach wing — in Lower Shabelle. He knew the group’s ideology intimately. And unlike most who slip quietly away, he chose to speak out. He denounced Al-Shabaab’s brutality in the media, exposing their hypocrisy and cruelty. His testimony carried moral weight: here was a man who once preached for them, now condemning them.
For Somalis, this was a revelation. It proved that leaving Al-Shabaab was possible. His defection planted the first seed of doubt in the minds of those inside, and the first flicker of hope among those outside.
The Wave Grows
Not long after, another senior figure followed: Ali Gedi, head of the Hisbah (religious police) in Middle Shabelle. He too surrendered and came under protection, and like Pakistani, spoke publicly.
Then came a more dramatic case: a Hizbul Islam commander Abdishakur who defected with nineteen fighters. The reason he defected was because Al-Shabaab had murdered his older brother also high ranking within Hizbul Islam. Though I no longer recall his full name, I will never forget the sight of twenty men crossing the line. Their defection sent shockwaves through Mogadishu. They too were housed under guard, debriefed, and presented as proof that the tide was shifting.
These cases quickly became a national talking point. International media descended on Mogadishu. Journalists came not only from nearby Nairobi or London, but from as far as Japan and Brazil — countries that rarely reported on Somalia. They came because defections broke the dominant narrative: that Al-Shabaab was invincible.
Improvised and Fragile
Behind the scenes, it was chaos. We sheltered defectors in hotels and safe houses, guarded by nervous soldiers. Resources were scarce. We had no proper system for screening, no long-term plan for reintegration. Everything was improvised.
But what mattered was the symbolism. Defections showed Al-Shabaab was not monolithic. It had cracks. And cracks, if widened, could become fractures.
Early Policy Battles
As defections multiplied, our international partners began to take notice. The UN Political Office for Somalia (UNPOS) and other donors proposed fitting defections into the DDR model — Disarmament, Demobilisation, and Reintegration.
But DDR requires peace: a signed agreement, an end to hostilities, and a framework to disband armed groups. Somalia had none of that. The war was ongoing, the frontlines shifting daily. To apply DDR would have been artificial, even dangerous.
I represented both the intelligence service and, at the Ministry of Interior’s request, the government in these debates. My message was simple: this is not DDR. These are defections. They must be treated case by case.
It was not an easy argument, but eventually we prevailed. The UN and donors accepted Somalia’s position. It was a rare victory for Somali ownership over international templates.
The Talk of the Town
By the end of 2009, defections were everywhere in the Somali conversation. In cafés, in ministries, in AMISOM barracks, people discussed who had defected, who might defect next, and what it meant for the war.
For me, those months were transformative. What had begun as an unexpected responsibility became a central part of my career. I saw how a single choice — one man leaving Al-Shabaab — could have an impact beyond his own life.
Closing
The first defectors were few in number, but their impact was outsized. They broke the myth of Al-Shabaab’s invincibility. They showed that the group could lose members not only to bullets, but to choice.
These early cases were fragile, improvised, and sometimes chaotic. But they were the seed of something bigger: a national defection policy that would, in time, become one of Somalia’s most innovative counterterrorism strategies.
In the next article, I will describe how this fragile beginning was transformed into a structured policy — and what lessons Somalia’s experience still offers today.
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Hussein Sheikh Ali served as the National Security Advisor for Presidents Mohamed Farmaajo and Hassan Sheikh Mohamud before he stepped down in July 2025. He has also served variously in counter-terrorism and intelligence in Somalia. You can follow his Substack, (@saldhigpapers) where this article was originally published.