Trump's Shadow War: The Bombing Campaign No One Talks About

125 airstrikes in less than a year. That's how many times the US has bombed Somalia since Trump returned to office—more than double Biden's entire four-year total of 51 operations. Yet Trump has mentioned this war exactly twice on social media.

When he did reference the strikes on February 3rd, it was buried in a racist attack on Congresswoman Ilhan Omar, herself a Somali refugee. For a president who loves to boast about military victories, his silence on America's most extensive bombing campaign is deafening.

So why is the US quietly waging an air war that rivals the height of the Global War on Terror?

The Automated War Machine

The surge isn't driven by Trump's personal attention—it's the opposite. Under expanded authorities granted by the administration, individual strikes no longer require White House approval. The post-9/11 counterterrorism apparatus now operates almost automatically.

Sebastian Gorka, the National Security Council's counterterrorism director, put it bluntly last July: "We are stacking [jihadis] like cord wood." He claimed that under Biden's rules, officials were told "we're not allowed to kill bad guys." Those restrictions have been swept away.

The relaxed targeting standards explain the scale, but not the location. Why Somalia, when the epicenter of global terrorist violence is actually West Africa's Sahel region? The answer may be simple convenience—Somalia is where the infrastructure for these operations already exists.

Somalia as Terror's New Hub

There is a genuine security rationale. Somalia's ISIS affiliate, despite having just 200-300 fighters on the ground, has become one of the group's most influential global branches. US officials claim its leader, Abdalqadir Mumin, is directing ISIS's worldwide activities from hideouts in the Golis Mountains.

Whether Mumin is the global "caliph" remains disputed among terrorism experts. But there's growing consensus that Somalia's role in terrorist financing and recruitment far exceeds its modest local presence. The country has become what Colin Clarke of the Soufan Center calls "a vital cog in the global enterprise."

Meanwhile, Al-Shabaab—the older al-Qaeda affiliate—continues to control significant territory outside the capital and carries out regular attacks. The group briefly captured government buildings just 30 kilometers from Mogadishu last year.

The Paradox of Success

Somali officials point to tangible progress. Last December, Mogadishu held local elections for the first time in five decades—a milestone they credit to US support degrading terrorist capabilities. The government no longer faces the existential threat it once did.

But experts remain skeptical about airstrikes as a counterinsurgency tool. "The core problem in Somalia is that there is a lack of competent, legitimate local governance," argues Joshua Meservey of the Hudson Institute. "If you do not have that, you will never successfully eradicate these groups."

The lack of transparency compounds concerns. AFRICOM stopped reporting casualty estimates last April, making it impossible to assess civilian harm. Between 172 and 359 people have been confirmed killed in Trump's second-term strikes, but the real numbers are likely much higher.

The Politics of Distance

Trump's personal views on Somalia add another layer of complexity. He's described Somalis as "low-IQ people" and called Somalia "not a country." His administration has cut foreign aid and launched immigration crackdowns targeting Somali-American communities in Minnesota.

Yet the bombing campaign proceeds in close coordination with Somalia's government. As Ambassador Dahir Hassan Abdi told me: "Somalia's government does not treat political statements as a substitute for policy. The United States remains a critical partner in security cooperation."

This disconnect reveals something telling about modern American power projection. The machinery of war operates independently of presidential rhetoric or even attention. All that's needed is tacit consent.