Picture this: a leader who's steered a nation for more than four decades, now well into his 90s, poised to extend his grip on power. That's the striking scenario unfolding in Cameroon as the country prepares for its presidential elections this Sunday. Paul Biya, at 92, stands as the world's oldest head of state and the clear frontrunner to secure an eighth term at the helm of this central African nation. But here's where it gets controversial—despite his advanced years and visible health struggles, Biya brushes off pleas for retirement, sparking debates about leadership longevity and national readiness for fresh faces.
Facing him is a divided opposition field featuring 11 candidates, none of whom seem poised to mount a unified challenge. Grégoire Owona, the labor minister and secretary general of the ruling party, painted a rosy picture on French radio RFI in late September, insisting that Biya is 'in great shape' and fully equipped to carry on his work. Yet, for many of Cameroon's roughly 7.8 million eligible voters, Biya is the only president they've ever known—having ruled with an unyielding hand since 1982. This continuity raises intriguing questions for newcomers to politics: Is stability worth the cost of stagnation, or does it stifle innovation and progress?
The elections unfold amid a backdrop of deep-seated issues, including economic stagnation, soaring living costs, and widespread social discontent. Opposition groups have leveled serious accusations against the electoral body, Elections Cameroon, claiming it's overly loyal to the ruling party. One prominent challenger, Maurice Kamto, who ran a strong second in the 2018 race, was disqualified by the courts, fueling cries of unfair play. Other contenders, like Issa Tchiroma Bakary—a recent defector from Biya's circle who's drawn thousands to his rallies nationwide—and Bello Bouba Maigari, Biya's inaugural prime minister from 1982, have waged individual campaigns. Observers note, however, that their lack of teamwork has diluted their impact, making a robust challenge to Biya's entrenched authority seem unlikely.
Cameroon grapples with profound socioeconomic hurdles that hit hard for everyday citizens. About a third of the population scrapes by on less than $2 a day, youth unemployment runs rampant, and many young adults feel alienated from the system, lacking both job prospects and a voice in governance. This disillusionment has contributed to plummeting voter participation over time, worsened by violent conflicts. In the Far North, jihadist clashes disrupt daily life, while in the western regions, an anglophone separatist movement—essentially a push for independence by English-speaking areas—has escalated since 2017. To clarify for those new to this, the anglophone crisis stems from long-standing grievances over cultural and economic marginalization, leading to over 700,000 people being forced from their homes and thousands losing their lives.
And this is the part most people miss—groups like the Cameroon People's Party and the Stand Up For Cameroon movement have boycotted elections since 2018, arguing that voting under such insecurity in the anglophone North-West and South-West regions (often abbreviated as #NOSO) is unethical. Leader Kah Wallah emphasized that the Biya administration's forceful tactics have left many feeling sidelined, potentially driving more to abstain from the polls. On the flip side, supporters might argue that strong government action is necessary to maintain unity in a diverse nation—though this approach has undeniably sparked outrage and polarized opinions.
Rarely spotted in public, Biya made his sole campaign appearance on Tuesday at a stadium rally in Maroua, in the Far North. There, he vowed to bolster security, tackle youth joblessness, and upgrade roads and public services if reelected. 'I'm fully aware of the challenges you face and the frustrations that cloud your hopes for the future,' he told the crowd. 'Drawing from my experience, I assure you these obstacles are not unbeatable.' It's a statement that could resonate with those valuing seasoned wisdom, but critics might counter that decades in power haven't solved these very problems—inviting a fresh debate on whether experience equates to effectiveness.
This election cycle has seen unprecedented calls for Biya to step down, amplifying the controversy around his fitness. The Catholic Archbishop Samuel Kleda voiced on French radio last Christmas that continuing in the role wasn't feasible. High-profile defections followed, with Tchiroma and Maigari openly questioning Biya's ability to lead. Even more strikingly, Biya's 27-year-old daughter, Brenda, posted on TikTok last month urging voters not to support him, claiming he 'has caused too much suffering' before later retracting her words. The video still circulates widely among dissenters, highlighting family rifts that add a personal layer to the political drama.
Public sentiment echoes this tension. Take Theophile, a 24-year-old artist in Douala, Cameroon's bustling economic hub. He dismissed the vote as a 'sham,' expressing regret that his favored candidate, Kamto, couldn't run. 'As long as the current setup persists, real change feels impossible,' he lamented, reflecting a broader yearning for transformation that many young Cameroonians share.
In wrapping this up, Cameroon's election isn't just about who wins—it's a mirror to global questions on leadership, fairness, and national healing. Should age or health be barriers to power, or does Biya's long tenure offer unmatched insight? Is the government's crackdown on unrest justified for stability, or does it breed more division? And crucially, can fractured oppositions ever unite to challenge the status quo? We'd love to hear your take—do you side with calls for renewal, or do you believe in the strength of continuity? Drop your thoughts in the comments below and let's discuss!
This report draws from contributions by Agence France-Presse and Associated Press.
