Stop reporting or face death. The implication hung in the air.
In the waning days of a presidential mandate, the Somali state turned its instruments of force against those holding a mirror to its conduct. On a Friday evening in Mogadishu, three journalists — among them a Guardian reporter — were pulled from ordinary life, beaten with pistols by counter-terrorism police, and warned that continued truth-telling could cost them their lives. It is a pattern as old as power itself: when accountability becomes inconvenient, those who document it become the threat.
- Mohamed Bulbul and two colleagues were dragged from a restaurant, beaten with pistols by U.S.-trained counter-terrorism officers, and interrogated through the night after his story on an alleged torture victim spread widely across Somali media.
- Mogadishu's police chief reportedly told the journalists to stop covering planned protests and prison abuse cases — or face death — making explicit what the violence had already implied.
- The arrests are not isolated: at least seven journalists have been detained this week alone, two remain missing, and equipment has been confiscated in what press freedom advocates are calling a coordinated campaign of intimidation.
- With Somalia's presidential term expiring May 15 and public anger rising over forced evictions and land seizures, the government appears to be accelerating repression rather than pursuing political resolution.
- Somalia already ranks 126th in global press freedom with over 50 journalists killed since 2010 — and the current crackdown signals the space for independent reporting is narrowing further, not stabilizing.
Mohamed Bulbul was eating dinner in central Mogadishu on a Friday evening when armed police arrived. He and two colleagues — Abdihafid Nor Barre and Abdishakur Mohamed Mohamud — were detained, beaten with pistols by members of Somalia's counter-terrorism unit, and taken in for interrogation before being released early the following morning. The message delivered through their bruises was deliberate and clear.
The trigger was journalism. The day before his arrest, the Guardian had published Bulbul's account of Sadia Moalim Ali, a 27-year-old rickshaw driver jailed for peaceful protest and social media activism, who described being stripped, beaten, and held without food in a small cell. The story spread rapidly. Bulbul had also been documenting security force abuses and forced evictions — reporting that was fueling public anger toward the administration.
At police headquarters, the journalists say Mogadishu's police chief made the stakes explicit: stop covering the protests and cases like Ali's, or face death. He told them he was tired of arresting journalists — a statement whose implication was worse than any threat he could have spoken plainly.
The arrests fit a widening pattern. Five other journalists had been detained just days earlier, their equipment seized. Two broadcast journalists remain missing. The Somali Journalists Syndicate has documented the escalation, and Somali Stream described the campaign as a deliberate effort to terrorize the media community into silence.
The context is unsparing. Somalia ranks 126th out of 180 countries in press freedom, and more than 50 journalists have been killed there since 2010. With the presidential term ending May 15 and citizens angry over displacement and land seizures, opposition figures say the government — rather than seeking political resolution — has chosen intensified repression. For Bulbul and his colleagues, the cost of telling the truth was measured in bruises and death threats. Whether that cost deters the next story remains the open question.
Mohamed Bulbul was eating dinner at a restaurant in central Mogadishu on Friday evening when armed police arrived and arrested him. Two other journalists—Abdihafid Nor Barre and Abdishakur Mohamed Mohamud—were taken at the same time. The men said they were beaten with pistols by members of Somalia's counter-terrorism police unit, a force trained by the United States, then hauled away for interrogation. They were released early Saturday morning, but the message was unmistakable: their reporting had made them targets.
Bulbul's crime, in the eyes of authorities, was straightforward journalism. The day before his arrest, the Guardian published his story about Sadia Moalim Ali, a 27-year-old rickshaw driver imprisoned for peaceful protest and social media activism. Ali described being stripped naked by two male guards in a room with CCTV cameras, kicked, beaten with a baton, and locked in a small cell without food for two days. The article spread quickly across Somali media and social platforms. Bulbul had also been reporting on security force violations and forced evictions in the capital—stories that were drawing public anger toward the ruling administration.
The timing was not accidental. Somalia's presidential term ends on May 15, and the government faces mounting pressure from citizens angry over displacement and land seizures. Rather than address these grievances, the administration has chosen to silence those documenting them. At police headquarters, the three journalists said Mogadishu's police chief, Mahdi Omar Mumin, made his position clear: stop reporting on the planned protests and on cases like Ali's, or face death. He told them he was tired of arresting journalists. The implication hung in the air—next time would be worse.
This was not an isolated incident. On May 6, at least five other local journalists were arrested and had their equipment seized. Two broadcast journalists, Ja'far Mohamed Jim'ale and cameraman Nur Hasan Ali, remain in detention with their whereabouts unknown. The Somali Journalists Syndicate documented the pattern. Somali Stream, the outlet where Mohamud works, called the arrests "an illegal and politically motivated attack on independent journalism," describing them as a deliberate campaign to terrorize the media community and suppress reporting.
The broader context makes the danger clear. According to the World Press Freedom Index, Somalia ranks 126th out of 180 countries in press freedom. More than 50 media professionals have been killed since 2010, making Somalia one of Africa's most dangerous places for journalists. Reporters Without Borders notes that those who work there operate in an environment of constant insecurity. The country is in a fragile political transition, and the government's response to dissent—whether from activists, citizens, or the press—is becoming more aggressive as the leadership's mandate approaches its end.
Opposition politicians have condemned the arrests. Abdirahman Abdishakur, an MP and leader of the Wadajir party, said the administration "appears consumed by fear, confusion as the end of its mandate approaches." He pointed out that instead of addressing the public anger over displacement and land grabbing, or pursuing an inclusive political settlement, the government has intensified repression against journalists, activists, and young people. The message from authorities to Bulbul and his colleagues was unmistakable: in Somalia right now, telling the truth about what the state is doing carries a price measured in bruises and threats. What happens next depends on whether journalists continue reporting despite the cost.
Citações Notáveis
Instead of addressing growing public anger over forced displacement and land grabbing, the administration has intensified repression against journalists, activists and outspoken young people.— Abdirahman Abdishakur, opposition MP and Wadajir party leader
This is a deliberate attempt to terrorise journalists, suppress independent reporting and instil fear across Somalia's media community.— AbdiKani Hamud Abokor, managing director of Somali Stream
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did the police specifically target Bulbul and these other journalists on that particular Friday?
Because his story about Sadia Ali's torture allegations had just gone live the day before, and it was spreading across social media. The government couldn't ignore it—the public was seeing what happens inside their prisons. That made him dangerous to them.
The police chief said he was "tired of arresting journalists." That's an odd thing to say if you're trying to suppress the press.
It's almost a confession. He's admitting they've been doing this repeatedly, and he's signaling that the next time, they won't bother with arrest. The threat of death wasn't hypothetical.
Two journalists are still missing. How does that happen in a capital city in 2026?
Because there's no real accountability. The police can detain people, move them between facilities, or hold them incommunicado. No one can force them to say where the journalists are. That's the whole point of the system—it operates without oversight.
Is this about the elections coming up, or is it deeper than that?
Both. The presidential term ends May 15, so there's immediate political pressure. But the pattern—50 journalists killed since 2010, the ranking at 126th in press freedom—this is structural. Somalia's government has never tolerated independent reporting. The election just makes it more urgent and more visible.
What does Bulbul do now? Does he keep reporting?
That's the question everyone in Somali journalism is asking themselves right now. He's been beaten and threatened with death. His colleagues are still missing. The message is designed to make people stop. Whether they do is what determines whether independent journalism survives this moment.