Welcome to the Horn of Africa, a delightful corner of the globe where the 21st century comes to be dismembered by the 19th. In the latest installment of ‘How to Fail at Statecraft,’ Somalia’s telecommunications behemoth, Hormuud Telecom, is shrieking into the void because the Kenyan Defense Forces (KDF) have allegedly decided that the best way to keep the peace is to turn modern infrastructure into expensive scrap metal. In the Dhuyac-garoon area of Lower Juba, the KDF—acting under the auspicious and perpetually ineffective banner of the African Union—has reportedly dismantled Hormuud’s facilities, proving once again that if you give a man a uniform and a tank, the first thing he’ll do is find something useful and break it.

Hormuud, of course, is playing the role of the grieving widow with practiced ease. They’ve released statements lamenting the loss of ‘civilian communications’ and ‘mobile money services,’ wrapping their corporate interests in the blood-stained flag of humanitarian concern. Let’s be clear: Hormuud is a monopoly that functions as the de facto central bank of a country that hasn't had a functional government since flannel was unironically fashionable. When their towers go down, it isn't just a dropped call; it’s a total economic blackout for a population that uses mobile minutes as currency because the local shilling has the purchasing power of a used toothpick. Hormuud isn’t crying for the people; they’re crying for the lost transaction fees. It’s a corporate tragedy masquerading as a human rights violation, and the world is expected to weep.

Then we have the Kenyans. The KDF’s presence in Somalia is the geopolitical equivalent of a neighbor who breaks into your house to put out a fire they accidentally started, then decides to stay in your guest room for fifteen years while charging you rent. Their tactical justification for smashing telecom towers is usually some variation of ‘Al-Shabaab was using it to coordinate.’ It is the ultimate low-effort excuse. In the warped logic of military intervention, if you can’t find the insurgent, you simply destroy the ground he stands on and the airwaves he breathes. It’s a strategy born of pure, unadulterated intellectual laziness. By cutting off the signals, the KDF isn’t stopping terrorism; they are merely ensuring that when the next tragedy strikes, nobody can call for help or pay for a casket. It is security through regression—a bold attempt to fight a modern war by dragging the battlefield back to the era of smoke signals.

The irony is so thick you could choke on it. The international community, led by the perpetually confused bureaucrats in Brussels and Washington, pours billions into these ‘peacekeeping’ missions. This money is essentially a bribe paid to regional powers like Kenya to pretend they are stabilizing a region that they are, in fact, treating like a private sandbox. We are witnessing the absurdity of 21st-century financial technology—Somalia’s world-leading mobile money adoption—colliding with the simian impulse to hit things with sticks. It is a perfect metaphor for the human condition: we build a digital nervous system for the planet, and then we let the least capable among us manage the switches.

Naturally, the Somali government in Mogadishu has issued its standard, toothless protest. Their ‘strong condemnation’ carries the weight of a feather in a cyclone. They are a government that exists primarily within the confines of a heavily fortified airport, presiding over a country they don't control, complaining to an international body that doesn't care, about a military force they can't expel. It is a performance of sovereignty that would be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic. Everyone is playing their part in this theater of the absurd. The Kenyans pretend to be protectors, the Somalis pretend to be a state, and Hormuud pretends to be a charity.

In the end, the only losers are the civilians in Lower Juba who now have to figure out how to survive in a digital vacuum. But why should any of the stakeholders care? The KDF gets to check a box on a mission report, Hormuud gets to lobby for international sympathy (and perhaps a juicy insurance payout or subsidy), and the political grifters on both sides of the border get to continue their lucrative dance. This is the reality of the ‘Global South’ that the activists ignore: a cycle of pointless destruction fueled by corporate greed and military incompetence, all funded by Western taxpayers who couldn't find Dhuyac-garoon on a map if their lives depended on it. The towers are down, the lights are out, and the only thing still broadcasting at full strength is the hypocrisy of everyone involved. It’s business as usual in the abyss.