Since early this year, the security landscape in central Somalia has deteriorated at a disturbing pace, revealing the glaring failure of the African Union mission and the troop-contributing countries that were once instrumental in combatting Al-Shabaab. The group, which had suffered heavy territorial losses during major offensives in 2022 and 2023, has reversed those setbacks and reasserted control over dozens of towns in the Middle Shabelle, Hiraan, and parts of Galmudug.
Government forces, often reinforced by local clan militias, have found themselves overstretched, under-resourced, and unable to hold strategic ground. Towns that had once been declared liberated fell without a single shot being fired. In many of these instances, Somali soldiers withdrew in silence, overwhelmed not by enemy fire, but by the lack of reinforcements, logistical failures, and a total absence of coordination among military units. The root cause of this collapse, according to military commanders on the ground, lies in the retreat and inaction of African Union troops, especially those from troop-contributing countries.
The transition from ATMIS to the scaled-down AUSSOM structure has led to a dramatic reduction in the operational footprint of international forces. Forward operating bases once manned by AU troops have been abandoned. Many troop-contributing countries, particularly under ATMIS, operated under mandates that restricted them from engaging directly in combat. This limitation severely hampered frontline offensives and left Somali forces exposed when AU troops refused to support or lead clearing operations.
The result has been devastating. The Somali National Army and its allied militias have been left to defend expansive frontlines without air support, without artillery backup, and without sufficient manpower. This operational vacuum gave Al-Shabaab the opportunity to reorganize, plan, and strike back. In Middle Shabelle, commanders have pointed to the withdrawal of Burundian troops as a critical turning point. These troops had held key positions along major supply routes and river crossings. When they pulled out, no replacement forces were deployed, and Somali units were neither informed nor supported in re-securing these areas.
Senior Somali officers now refer to this as the “Burundi Syndrome,” a term that captures the paralysis and panic that gripped local forces after the sudden departure of Burundian soldiers. Bases that had previously deterred Al-Shabaab with AU presence turned into ghost posts. When Somali units attempted to fill the gaps, they lacked the artillery, manpower, and medical evacuation capacity to withstand the inevitable attacks. The enemy exploited this. Al-Shabaab infiltrated these areas with ease, using local intelligence to identify weak points, launching ambushes, and re-establishing its shadow administration.
This failure is not only tactical but strategic. The entire AU approach to the Somali conflict now appears built on shaky ground. Troop-contributing countries with no political or operational will to engage in real combat held ground temporarily and left just as quickly. Their presence never translated into long-term stability. The symbolic value of their uniforms and flags did not prevent communities from falling back under insurgent control once they left.
Al-Shabaab’s resurgence in 2025 is not the same as in years past. Their military capabilities have matured significantly. The group now conducts suicide operations with more coordination, deploys remote-controlled improvised explosive devices with deadly precision, and times their attacks to nighttime when surveillance and response capabilities are weakest. They have proven adept at detecting and downing reconnaissance drones, evading aerial surveillance, and cutting off vulnerable supply chains. Government forces, already operating on thin margins, have little room to adapt or regroup under such pressure.
Despite years of international training, billions in funding, and numerous military partnerships, the Somali National Army remains dependent on external forces for sustained operations. When those external forces choose to withdraw or limit their engagement, as the AU mission has done, the result is clear. Territory is lost, lives are lost, and confidence in government authority erodes. Communities that once celebrated liberation now fear retaliation and retribution, unsure whether the government or Al-Shabaab will be in control tomorrow.
The AU mission’s failure is not limited to combat effectiveness. It is also a failure of planning, communication, and political coherence. There was no phased transition. Bases were abandoned without consultation. Strategic zones were left unguarded. The downsizing of the mission to AUSSOM was not accompanied by a plan to reinforce Somali capacity or to secure vulnerable areas during the shift. This left a window of opportunity wide open, and Al-Shabaab moved in with precision and force.
The silence of the AU on these setbacks speaks volumes. There has been no public accounting, no reassessment of troop deployment strategies, and no indication that lessons are being learned from the rapid reversals on the ground. Meanwhile, Somali forces, who were asked to bear the brunt of the transition, continue to suffer losses, both on the battlefield and in the trust of the population they are supposed to protect.
In the end, the failure of the AU mission and its troop-contributing countries is not merely a story of military disengagement. It is a story of abandonment. The Somali people were promised international solidarity in the fight against terrorism. What they got instead was a temporary shield, one that cracked under pressure and disappeared when it was needed most. The consequences of that failure are now playing out in real time across the heart of Somalia.
