An article by Jeffrey Feltman on the political turmoil in Cameroon caught my eye the other day. Readers might wonder why an article on a country from which there is almost no media coverage or interest would interest me. It is partly because I served in Cameroon about 34-35 years ago, and I still retain good memories of the country. When I arrived there in 1983, Paul Biya had been president of Cameroon only a few months. Now, some 35 years later, Paul Biya is still president. And according to Jeffrey Feldman’s article, trouble is brewing; opposition is growing from almost all quarters to his continuance in office. He was not elected president for life, but after 35 years it is hard to tell the difference. After all, Biya has been president longer than over 50 percent of Cameroon’s population has lived.
But it is more than the possible overdue political overthrow of a long-serving African president in a country I once lived that sparks my interest. I see in the Cameroonian situation issues that transcend Cameroon, Biya, and even Africa. They have to do with how transitions away from such rulers have tended in the past two decades to end up no better than where they started. We see that, for example, in Egypt where a transition from an entrenched ex-military civilian leader brought about by popular demand, ended up with another military leader who keeps tightening the authoritarian screws. I will explain this below, but first a brief survey of Cameroon and its all too typical crisis.
According to Feltman, Cameroon is beset by three problems, which are turning its politics very nasty, and which increase the increasing fragility of Biya’s position. First is the disaffection of the English-speaking minority, which makes up about one-fifth of the population. The country was officially a bilingual country, and at least at the elite level, was bilingual. I remember seeing Francophones talking to Anglophones each using their own language, as if speaking one language. The Anglophones are from the part of Cameroon directly adjacent to Nigeria having chosen to join Francophone Cameroon in 1960 when independence came to both countries. The country seemed, then, truly integrated. Now, the Anglophones complain of linguistic and political marginalization, and a movement for secession of the Anglophone part has erupted. Does it want to re-join Nigeria? Of course, the answer is no; it wants to be an independent state. Adherents of secession have attacked the government and killed civilians suspected of supporting it. Government reprisals have been severe; human rights activists assert a government “scorched earth” policy which includes extra-judicial killings, has hardened positions on both sides. Feeding into Biya’s problem is the effects of terrorist attacks by the Nigeria-based extremist group, Boko Haram which have displaced tens of thousands of Cameroon citizens and provoked, as one would expect, brutal responses that raise reports of serious human rights abuses. In addition, Cameroon’s 24 million people are hosting about 400,000 Nigerian and Central African Republic refugees.
The crisis facing Paul Biya may be the more serious and costly in human life of all. Biya has faced disillusionment and fatigue just below the political surface for a number of years now, inspired in part by the Cameroonian diaspora and in part by his growing authoritarianism—curtailment of civil liberties, abolishing presidential term limits, growing corruption, and clearly rigged elections (in the most recent he won 71 percent of the vote, or so they said). This has produced a growing opposition as the number of his terms mounted. Now, in his current term (the seventh), it has vaulted to the surface on steroids. Protests of the latest election results provoked protests by Cameroonians at home and abroad, and in January this year, the opposition leader and many supporters were arrested in Douala which is (or was) Biya country.
What slogans are Cameroonian protestors against Biya shouting in the streets of Douala or Yaounde? “If it can happen in Sudan, it can happen in Cameroon.” If it can happen in Algeria, it can happen in Cameroon.” Yes, the demonstration effect of Sudan and Algeria, both of which, in the past few weeks, have broken the African mould of long-serving, quasi one-party, mostly authoritarian presidents by overthrowing their own version of such a president. This effect is possibly going to unseat, the longest-serving non-royal leader (elected president), not only in Africa, but in the world. There are other African leaders who, as neighbours near Cameroon, may feel the waves of change this demonstration effect could bring. President Bongo of Gabon, for example, whose family has been in power for about 50 years, President Sasso-Nguesso who as Feltman says “is no stranger to lopsided election results” and has used violence against demonstrators recently. How far does this demonstration effect reach? One wonders if it reaches all the way to South Asia.
Both the Algerian and Sudanese crisis started with popular protests against entrenched unpopular leaders, which the military brought under control by taking power and throwing the leader out. They promised a transition, but to what was left unclear. After decades of support for those authoritarian leaders, in the face of popular uprisings, the militaries decided this time to eject the president rather than kill the protesters. And I think that is, and will remain, the deciding factor in many similar situations—cases in which a long-serving president has finally lost all popular support. The militaries refuse to take the lives of their fellow citizens to save such a leader. But their action to dislodge an authoritarian president does not necessarily mean that they support a transition to democratic rule. What they support may well be a return to stability and the preservation of a regime, which they realize is more than one man—even a president. It is an established system of power and patronage that they know, feel comfortable with, and often profit from.
But as of now, the militaries of both countries are still in charge and trying to guide the transition their way in the face of continued popular protests. In Sudan, the military leaders are at least talking to a loud civil society. As long as that civil society stays in the streets it has power and can negotiate with the military leaders, but if it becomes incoherent or divided and/or begins to withdraw from the streets, that power is lost, and Sudan probably reverts to a replay of the past—a strongman, probably of military background, supported by the military. But so far, the civilians are staying together and gaining ground, so some kind of hybrid arrangement may emerge.
The situation in Algeria is different; the civilian protestors that drove the old president out want a purge of all those connected with the old regime. The military insists on following a constitutional process and holding elections in July. The civilian protestors argue that holding elections under the old regime (minus the old president) means more of the same thing and are resisting this. But experts assert that Algeria was, in a sense, established by the military and remains without a coherent opposition because historically political parties have been marginalized. Thus, it is difficult to see how the military can be excluded from some role in governance.
In both Algeria and Sudan, the militaries have bad memories of the past in which they have treated civilian protestors ruthlessly. Both will go a long way to avoid repeating those past atrocities. In the civilian memory, however, is even more recent history - the example of Egypt in which the elected government of the Arab Spring uprising was soon dismissed by the military, and Egypt reverted to authoritarianism.
Are there lessons in this for South Asians? For Bangladesh, perhaps, that massive civilian protests can push out political leaders who have stayed too long, even in countries in severe authoritarian lockdown, but that requires a military that is unwilling to kill its compatriots and an opposition that the military respects and trusts. The latter condition does not obtain now. For Pakistan, perhaps, an understanding that a military that is vested in the founding of the state is unlikely ever to want to give up its stake, and that civilian governance must be good to allow it to relax its hold on policy.
The writer is an American diplomat, and is senior policy scholar at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars in Washington, D.C.
But it is more than the possible overdue political overthrow of a long-serving African president in a country I once lived that sparks my interest. I see in the Cameroonian situation issues that transcend Cameroon, Biya, and even Africa. They have to do with how transitions away from such rulers have tended in the past two decades to end up no better than where they started. We see that, for example, in Egypt where a transition from an entrenched ex-military civilian leader brought about by popular demand, ended up with another military leader who keeps tightening the authoritarian screws. I will explain this below, but first a brief survey of Cameroon and its all too typical crisis.
According to Feltman, Cameroon is beset by three problems, which are turning its politics very nasty, and which increase the increasing fragility of Biya’s position. First is the disaffection of the English-speaking minority, which makes up about one-fifth of the population. The country was officially a bilingual country, and at least at the elite level, was bilingual. I remember seeing Francophones talking to Anglophones each using their own language, as if speaking one language. The Anglophones are from the part of Cameroon directly adjacent to Nigeria having chosen to join Francophone Cameroon in 1960 when independence came to both countries. The country seemed, then, truly integrated. Now, the Anglophones complain of linguistic and political marginalization, and a movement for secession of the Anglophone part has erupted. Does it want to re-join Nigeria? Of course, the answer is no; it wants to be an independent state. Adherents of secession have attacked the government and killed civilians suspected of supporting it. Government reprisals have been severe; human rights activists assert a government “scorched earth” policy which includes extra-judicial killings, has hardened positions on both sides. Feeding into Biya’s problem is the effects of terrorist attacks by the Nigeria-based extremist group, Boko Haram which have displaced tens of thousands of Cameroon citizens and provoked, as one would expect, brutal responses that raise reports of serious human rights abuses. In addition, Cameroon’s 24 million people are hosting about 400,000 Nigerian and Central African Republic refugees.
The crisis facing Paul Biya may be the more serious and costly in human life of all. Biya has faced disillusionment and fatigue just below the political surface for a number of years now, inspired in part by the Cameroonian diaspora and in part by his growing authoritarianism—curtailment of civil liberties, abolishing presidential term limits, growing corruption, and clearly rigged elections (in the most recent he won 71 percent of the vote, or so they said). This has produced a growing opposition as the number of his terms mounted. Now, in his current term (the seventh), it has vaulted to the surface on steroids. Protests of the latest election results provoked protests by Cameroonians at home and abroad, and in January this year, the opposition leader and many supporters were arrested in Douala which is (or was) Biya country.
What slogans are Cameroonian protestors against Biya shouting in the streets of Douala or Yaounde? “If it can happen in Sudan, it can happen in Cameroon.” If it can happen in Algeria, it can happen in Cameroon.” Yes, the demonstration effect of Sudan and Algeria, both of which, in the past few weeks, have broken the African mould of long-serving, quasi one-party, mostly authoritarian presidents by overthrowing their own version of such a president. This effect is possibly going to unseat, the longest-serving non-royal leader (elected president), not only in Africa, but in the world. There are other African leaders who, as neighbours near Cameroon, may feel the waves of change this demonstration effect could bring. President Bongo of Gabon, for example, whose family has been in power for about 50 years, President Sasso-Nguesso who as Feltman says “is no stranger to lopsided election results” and has used violence against demonstrators recently. How far does this demonstration effect reach? One wonders if it reaches all the way to South Asia.
Both the Algerian and Sudanese crisis started with popular protests against entrenched unpopular leaders, which the military brought under control by taking power and throwing the leader out. They promised a transition, but to what was left unclear. After decades of support for those authoritarian leaders, in the face of popular uprisings, the militaries decided this time to eject the president rather than kill the protesters. And I think that is, and will remain, the deciding factor in many similar situations—cases in which a long-serving president has finally lost all popular support. The militaries refuse to take the lives of their fellow citizens to save such a leader. But their action to dislodge an authoritarian president does not necessarily mean that they support a transition to democratic rule. What they support may well be a return to stability and the preservation of a regime, which they realize is more than one man—even a president. It is an established system of power and patronage that they know, feel comfortable with, and often profit from.
But as of now, the militaries of both countries are still in charge and trying to guide the transition their way in the face of continued popular protests. In Sudan, the military leaders are at least talking to a loud civil society. As long as that civil society stays in the streets it has power and can negotiate with the military leaders, but if it becomes incoherent or divided and/or begins to withdraw from the streets, that power is lost, and Sudan probably reverts to a replay of the past—a strongman, probably of military background, supported by the military. But so far, the civilians are staying together and gaining ground, so some kind of hybrid arrangement may emerge.
The situation in Algeria is different; the civilian protestors that drove the old president out want a purge of all those connected with the old regime. The military insists on following a constitutional process and holding elections in July. The civilian protestors argue that holding elections under the old regime (minus the old president) means more of the same thing and are resisting this. But experts assert that Algeria was, in a sense, established by the military and remains without a coherent opposition because historically political parties have been marginalized. Thus, it is difficult to see how the military can be excluded from some role in governance.
In both Algeria and Sudan, the militaries have bad memories of the past in which they have treated civilian protestors ruthlessly. Both will go a long way to avoid repeating those past atrocities. In the civilian memory, however, is even more recent history - the example of Egypt in which the elected government of the Arab Spring uprising was soon dismissed by the military, and Egypt reverted to authoritarianism.
Are there lessons in this for South Asians? For Bangladesh, perhaps, that massive civilian protests can push out political leaders who have stayed too long, even in countries in severe authoritarian lockdown, but that requires a military that is unwilling to kill its compatriots and an opposition that the military respects and trusts. The latter condition does not obtain now. For Pakistan, perhaps, an understanding that a military that is vested in the founding of the state is unlikely ever to want to give up its stake, and that civilian governance must be good to allow it to relax its hold on policy.
The writer is an American diplomat, and is senior policy scholar at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars in Washington, D.C.