Somalia’s Digital Iron Curtain: Who Is Making Critics Disappear?

Mogadishu (WDN) — Somalia’s battle over freedom of expression appears to be entering a new and unsettling arena: the digital space. Several prominent Somali journalists and political figures have reportedly seen their Facebook accounts suspended, removed or falsely memorialized as belonging to people who have died, triggering allegations of a coordinated campaign against critical voices.

But one distinction is essential: the account disruptions are documented; responsibility for them has not been established.

The Evidence: What Is Known and What Is Alleged

The Somali Journalists Syndicate (SJS) reported on September 14 that journalist Farah Abdulkadir Mohamed and journalist Abdijalil Osman had their Facebook profiles falsely memorialized while both were alive. Their accounts were subsequently restored.

SJS also reported that journalist Zakariye Mohamud Timacadde, whose Facebook presence reportedly reaches more than one million followers, had his Facebook page and personal profile suspended. The Syndicate further reported the removal of the Facebook pages of the presidents of Puntland and Jubaland .

SJS described the incidents as part of what it considered an apparent wave of online attacks targeting Somali journalists and media organizations. It also raised concerns over alleged misuse of copyright complaints to remove critical content and reported that a person involved in such claims said he worked in communications for the Somali government.

These are reported incidents and allegations; they do not, by themselves, establish that the Somali government ordered or carried out the Facebook actions. SJS said Meta’s East Africa team did not respond to its request for comment.

The latest incidents also come against a broader documented record of pressure on Somali journalists. Human Rights Watch has reported intimidation, detention and prosecution of journalists and media workers by federal and regional authorities. The Federation of Somali Journalists separately reported 78 violations involving journalists and media professionals between May 2025 and May 2026, including arrests, detention, threats, assaults, harassment, abductions, censorship and interference with reporting.

That broader record provides important context, but it does not establish that government authorities were responsible for the specific Facebook disruptions now under scrutiny.

The most striking cases remain the false memorializations of living journalists. How were living people classified as deceased? Were fraudulent reports submitted? Were accounts compromised? Did automated moderation systems make errors? Or were multiple incidents connected? Those questions remain unanswered.

There is currently no publicly established evidence showing that President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud personally ordered the removals, that federal cyber-security personnel carried them out, or that his government instructed Meta to target particular journalists or political figures.

That distinction matters. The reported disruptions deserve investigation, but allegations of direct government responsibility require evidence beyond the fact that the affected individuals are prominent critics or political actors.

The Hassan Sheikh Question

The controversy nevertheless places renewed attention on the government’s approach to freedom of expression. If federal institutions had no role in the Facebook actions, officials could help settle the matter by making that position clear and supporting an independent investigation.

If government agencies did communicate with Meta concerning the affected accounts, the public deserves to know what was requested, under what authority and on what grounds. The same transparency should be expected from Meta. Account suspensions, removals and false memorializations can have serious consequences when Facebook functions as a major channel for political debate and journalism.

For Somali journalists and politicians, Facebook is not merely a social-media platform. It has become an important part of the country’s public information space. When a prominent account disappears, so too can access to years of reporting, political commentary and communication with hundreds of thousands of followers.

That is why the latest incidents warrant scrutiny without premature conclusions. The evidence establishes that accounts have been disrupted. It does not yet establish who was responsible. And that leaves Somalia with a question that remains unanswered: Who is making Somalia’s political voices disappear from the digital public square—and why?

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