A new analysis calls for a 25% female quota in Somaliland’s parliament, arguing that decades of exclusion represent a democratic crisis requiring urgent reform
HARGEISA — For more than two decades, Somaliland has cultivated a reputation as one of the most stable and democratic political systems in the Horn of Africa. Yet beneath that image, a stark imbalance persists: women remain almost entirely absent from its highest legislative body.
In a sharply worded analysis, Somaliland politician Abdiweli Mohamed Jama argues that the continued exclusion of women from parliament is not merely a social issue, but “a democratic crisis” that demands urgent structural reform.
A “mono-gendered” parliament
Since 2005, Somaliland’s House of Representatives has operated without meaningful female representation, effectively sidelining more than half the population from the legislative process.
“This isn’t just a women’s issue,” Jama writes. “It is a democratic crisis.”
He describes the legislature as a “mono-gendered institution,” warning that laws governing healthcare, education and family life are being crafted without input from those most directly affected.
Structural barriers rooted in tradition
At the center of the problem, Jama argues, is the intersection of political structures and traditional systems such as the Xeer — a clan-based framework that continues to shape political access.
Under this system, power is often channeled through male elders, creating what he calls a “tribal bottleneck” that limits women’s ability to secure nominations or build viable political campaigns.
“In this framework, women are frequently viewed as ‘transient’ members of clans,” he notes, making electoral success structurally difficult regardless of qualifications.
The case for a 25% quota
Jama’s proposal is direct: a mandatory 25 percent quota that would guarantee at least 25 seats for women in parliament.
“The call for a 25% quota isn’t about charity — it’s about correction,” he writes, arguing that decades of relying on gradual cultural change have failed to produce results.
Such a system, he suggests, would not undermine merit but instead unlock it.
“By legislating a quota, we aren’t bypassing merit,” Jama argues. “We are finally allowing merit to flourish by removing the invisible ‘No Women Allowed’ sign from the doors of Parliament.”
Challenging cultural and religious arguments
Opposition to gender quotas in Somaliland has often been framed in cultural or religious terms. Jama rejects these claims, stating that neither Islamic principles nor Somali traditions justify the exclusion of women from governance.
“There is nothing in our faith or our history that mandates the silencing of women,” he writes.
He points instead to the role women played in peacebuilding efforts during the 1990s, arguing that their contributions were essential to Somaliland’s post-conflict recovery.
“A nation cannot thrive while half its brainpower is locked out of the room where decisions are made,” he adds.
A defining political moment
With elections on the horizon, Jama frames the issue as a defining test for Somaliland’s democratic trajectory.
“We can continue the status quo — an aging, lopsided democracy — or we can take the bold step toward true representation,” he writes.
His proposal calls on political parties and government institutions to adopt a guaranteed-seat mechanism — 25 seats reserved for women across Somaliland’s regions.
“Twenty-five women,” he concludes, “is the minimum price of a functional democracy.”
A broader question of legitimacy
The debate comes at a time when Somaliland is seeking broader international recognition and deeper engagement with global partners. Analysts say that questions of inclusivity and representation could increasingly shape how external actors evaluate its democratic credentials.
For Jama, however, the argument is ultimately domestic.
“Somaliland has spent 21 years waiting for ‘the right time’ for women to lead,” he writes. “The truth is, that time was two decades ago. The next best time is now.”
