The House of Elders: Pillar of Democracy or Obstacle to the Future?

The House of Elders played a decisive role in securing peace and statehood during Somaliland’s fragile post-war years, but today it stands at the center of a growing national debate over accountability, renewal, and the future of democratic governance.

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The House of Elders (Golaha Guurtida) occupies a unique place in Somaliland’s political history, one rarely found elsewhere on the African continent. It was established at a time when the country was emerging from total collapse: civil war, institutional breakdown, and deep social fragmentation. During the landmark Borama National Conference of 1993, traditional elders became the architects of reconciliation, the brokers of peace, and the custodians of a fragile transition toward statehood. Granting the Guurti the status of an upper chamber and a cultural arbiter was, at the time, a pragmatic and necessary choice. There were no mature state institutions, no viable electoral system, and no alternative mechanisms capable of holding the country together.

What was once a temporary solution, however, has gradually evolved into a permanent national dilemma.

Under Somaliland’s constitution, the term of the House of Elders is six years. Yet since its formation in 1993, not a single election or formal renewal process has taken place. For more than thirty-three years, the Guurti has exercised authority without a mandate derived from the public will. Over time, this has transformed an institution rooted in tradition into something resembling inherited political privilege rather than communal representation. Today, some seats in the House of Elders are occupied by the sons or relatives of deceased elders, despite the absence of any clear constitutional or legal framework authorizing such succession.

This reality strikes at the core of Somaliland’s democratic principles.

On one side stands the House of Representatives, the lower chamber, whose members are chosen through competitive and sometimes contentious elections, but nonetheless grounded in popular consent. On the other stands the Guurti, an unelected body wielding significant legislative and political authority, yet accountable to no electorate and subject to no public oversight. This imbalance raises a fundamental constitutional question: how can an unelected institution possess powers equal to, or greater than, a body chosen by the people?

The most controversial authority exercised by the House of Elders lies in its power to extend political mandates. Repeatedly, the Guurti has approved term extensions for presidents, parliament, and even itself. Although Somaliland’s constitution sets the presidential term at five years, nearly every president has governed beyond that limit through extensions sanctioned by the Guurti. While such decisions are often justified by security concerns or technical constraints, they have gradually hardened into a political norm that undermines trust in the democratic process. Rather than safeguarding constitutional timelines, the Guurti has increasingly become the institution that suspends them.

It is from this reality that a harsh but growing public perception has emerged: that the House of Elders has shifted from being a guardian of peace to what some now describe as an “open wound” or even a “rot spreading through Somaliland’s democracy.” These are strong words, but they reflect deep societal frustration, particularly among younger generations who feel that their political future is being held hostage by an institution that neither renews itself nor answers to the people.

Yet the debate is not about abolishing the Guurti.

Such a move would be neither realistic nor compatible with Somaliland’s social fabric, which continues to place immense value on tradition and the role of elders. The real question is how the House of Elders can be reconciled with the demands of a modern democratic system. How can its cultural and mediating role be preserved without undermining the principle of popular sovereignty?

The most viable solution lies in establishing a clear and distinct mechanism for renewal, separate from that of the House of Representatives. This could take the form of a limited public election, or a formalized clan-based nomination system with fixed terms. Clear age limits and term restrictions could be introduced to prevent the Guurti from becoming a lifetime institution. Most critically, the House of Elders must be stripped of the power to unilaterally extend political mandates, a practice that represents both a legal contradiction and an ethical failure.

If Somaliland is to preserve the democratic reputation it has earned internationally as a rare exception in a troubled region, it must confront the question of the Guurti with honesty and courage. Democracy cannot endure when one of its pillars has eroded from within. The House of Elders can still occupy a respected and historic role, but only if it is reformed, renewed, and aligned with the realities of the twenty-first century.

Somaliland’s future cannot be secured by past achievements alone. It requires institutions that are lawful, transparent, and trusted by the people. The Guurti must become part of the solution, not the greatest obstacle to democratic progress.