Yaoundé – Greetings, resilient Cameroonians and international observers of our fascinating political theater! In our previous editions (Edition 1, Edition 2), we mused about the curious case of Cameroon’s unending “stability” and the Houdini act performed by our national wealth. Today, let’s turn the spotlight onto the grand spectacle that underpins it all: our “democratic elections.” A performance so consistent, so predictable, it makes a broken clock seem erratic.
At the heart of this enduring show is, of course, President Paul Biya himself. The grand architect. The visionary who, in 2008, with a stroke of constitutional genius, abolished term limits – not because he needed to, mind you, but presumably to spare the nation the existential dread of ever having to choose someone else. His victories are legendary, often secured with percentages that make other global leaders green with envy. Forget grassroots campaigning; here, we perfect the art of the “electoral authoritarianism,” where the ballot box is less a measure of popular will and more a formal ratification of an already decided outcome. As he once sagely declared, access to political responsibilities is “through the ballot box and not through the streets.” A profound truth, especially when said ballot boxes seem to come pre-filled with a singular preference.
But no great show is performed by a single actor, no matter how enduring. Behind the curtain, we find the meticulous stagehands and loyal choristers of the CPDM. These are the true unsung heroes of our system, the ones who ensure that state resources are generously deployed for “political patronage,” that voter cards sometimes develop an uncanny shyness, refusing to reach eligible hands, and that polling stations occasionally enjoy a leisurely start to their day. They’ve perfected the use of “Operation Sparrowhawk,” not as a genuine anti-corruption crusade, but as a rather convenient eagle to pluck out political rivals who might dare to challenge the family business.
And who is the maestro coordinating many of these backstage maneuvers today? None other than Ferdinand Ngoh Ngoh, the esteemed Minister of State, Secretary General of the Presidency. This gentleman is reportedly a man of formidable influence, almost a “de facto head of state.” Whispers abound of his ruthless character, his talent for “purging critics,” and a lifestyle that suggests he’s found a rather efficient way to make those elusive oil revenues materialize, perhaps in a property empire in France. He’s been accused of controlling a certain “gang” and berating even high-ranking officials with accusations of being “traitors,” all while allegations of public funds being “splashed out” on luxuries swirl. His contributions? Ensuring the system remains impenetrable, keeping the old guard firmly in control, and perhaps, accidentally fueling more anti-Anglophone sentiment with his reported outbursts. When the de facto head is known for enriching himself and sidelining genuine solutions for political maneuvering, is it any wonder the nation languishes?
Now, let us turn to the other side of the stage, where the “opposition” players await their turn, often with a script that feels remarkably familiar. For decades, we’ve had figures like John Fru Ndi (may he rest in peace) who, despite undeniable courage, could never quite unite the fragmented forces against the behemoth. Today, we have Maurice Kamto, a figure who, after claiming a disputed victory in 2018, found his efforts thwarted not just by the ruling party’s Constitutional Council (a truly independent body, if you believe in fairy tales), but also by the very disunity within the opposition. While he mobilizes thousands in Paris and pledges to visit conflict zones if elected, questions persist about his practical approach. Some suggest his “assurances” to Biya about safety post-presidency are less about magnanimity and more about trying to be “acceptable” to the regime, perhaps even a transactional approach to power.
Then there’s Joshua Osih, the current leader of the SDF. His approach is notably “moderate,” so moderate, in fact, that it avoids the “fierce criticism of Biya” that defined his predecessor. It’s almost comforting. He’s reportedly “well-connected within ruling circles,” even managing travel logistics for the President. One might wonder if his “opposition” is less about shaking the tree and more about positioning himself as a politically palatable alternative, one who won’t upset the delicate ecosystem of the establishment. When the official opposition avoids “fierce criticism” and critiques other opposition leaders more than the ruling power, it begs the question: are they opposing the system, or merely competing for a slightly different seat at the same, very old, table?
The collective impact of these individuals – the entrenched ruler, his loyal enablers who siphon off public wealth, and the fragmented, sometimes seemingly complicit, opposition – is a nation held hostage by its own political class. Their “contributions” have ensured that our “democratic elections” remain a ritual, not a genuine choice. They have ensured that while the populace yearns for change, the political merry-go-round continues with the same, aged riders, forever promising a different destination but perpetually circling the same spot.
So, Cameroonians, as the next election looms, let us not just choose a candidate, but demand a dismantling of this old boys’ club, from the top down and from the so-called opposition within. The price of their “stability” and their “contributions” has been our nation’s potential. And that, dear friends, is a price we can no longer afford.